#and i had to take another month to rebuild my strength again

[doodle-pops]

Can You Still Hear My Heart

Gil Galad x reader

A/N: My very first Gil Galad fic and I decided to go down the angst route.

Warnings: slight talk of death, major character's death, slight angst

Words: 1.4k

Synopsis: You contemplate the death of your husband with the visit of an old friend.

The seasons had changed, and the air shifted before the news came. Grey skies troubled overhead, threatening to erupt and scatter their unwanted rainfall upon the earth, and cast away any minute signs of sunshine. It felt like the darkness still won as it never stopped creeping into your heart, shattering any remaining fragments and discarding them around the world, impossible and out of reach. Where your heart travelled, you could not go; it would not allow you after the endless promises made.

There was a light sprinkled on the roof of the pavilion, you saw it rippling in the waters of the pond. The disturbance it created was no different from what your heart felt when it all began, the troublesome whispers and the shroud of trepidation. As your hair whipped gracefully around your face, you managed to find the strength to pull yourself together and attire your figure like the royalty you were trained to be. No matter how difficult things became, you had an image to uphold, a role to play and look. No amount of rain, sunshine, wind and darkness could defeat your majestic image. What would he say if he saw you withered like the flower who could not withstand the torrential rain?

“Your Majesty?” It was the soft and poetic voice of his Herald, Elrond. Ever young was the ellon with his sympathetic face reflecting the tears in your eyes. His face wanted to crack and shatter the façade he kept on for months, bringing you this news might be his final breaking point. You were like a caretaker to him during his days under the High King’s arms, seeing you, a substitute guardian so broken was unnatural. Your emotions could not be hidden from his kind eyes.

Lifting the cup of rose tea to your lips, you took a sip and kept your head afront, looking into the distance. “Lord Elrond, how pleasant of you to come see me,” you greeted in a forced cheerful tone that resonated pain and emptiness. Elrond knew better than to ask you ‘how were you fairing?’, even he wasn’t fairing any better than you. Instead, he cautiously ascended the three steps and sat opposite you on the stone bench. His eyes fell on your sullen figure; eyes sunk in and hallow, lips pale and bruised with bloodstains from vigorous biting, hair dull and figure petite. You hadn’t eaten a decent meal in the last two to three weeks he accessed or hydrated yourself properly. He didn’t fail to see the wine bottles at your feet, hidden behind your robes.

“Are you finished making your diagnostics Lord Elrond? Are the results promising?” Your voice appeared intimidating, hating the scrutiny his eyes held as they your agonising figure; first your maids, now him.

Dropping his eyes to the table, he quickly mumbled a quiet apology. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts he looked at you once again and attempted to speak. “You probably know why I’m here Your Majesty?”

Scoffing and shaking your head cluelessly, you took another sip of your rose tea, nearly finishing the drink in one go. You had no patience to sip your tea with the etiquettes you were taught, they no longer mattered since your reign of leadership was over. You could return to the unbothered person you were before you met and fell in love. There wasn’t a soul who could climb your mountains the way he did. Everyone else was obsessed with tearing it down and rebuilding it, but Ereinion was the one person who courageously climbed its steep slopes without a rope or an axe and braved the harsh weather conditions before arriving at its peaks. There wasn’t a reason anymore to continue the path he left behind if he wasn’t there to walk it with you.

“No, I haven’t the slightest clue Lord Elrond. Do share your reason of visit with me, I’m curious to know.” You smiled forcibly. Elrond winced at the sarcasm dripping in your voice. The tones were worse than when you were delighted.

“Your Ma—Y/N,” he sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Ereinion was dear to you as he was to me; I know the news of his death already arrived.”

“Then why have you come to deliver what I already know? Do you intend on pouring more salt in my wounds?”

Opening his mouth to respond, no words came out, only air. Elrond’s eyes couldn’t reach yours, they fell to the floor shamelessly and remained there, staring at the grey stone. He felt guilt and grief; he understood your pain very well. It was a reflection of his amplified times twenty.

The wind had picked up its speed and blew a strong gust through the garden, increasing its speed as it passed through the pavilion. Your hair flew into your face, but you were too unbothered to care about the discomfort it brought. There was enough discomfort in your fragile heart to care about anything or anyone else besides yourself and the loss of your dead companion. Your bed was empty and cold, the palace was lonely; no amount of servants could bring life into the bleak halls, and your hands were neglected. You felt like you were alone in a stone manor with only four walls.

“You know, they’re asking me if you’re going to carry on the line. I told them you’re not going to, you don’t want that burden,” you sorrowfully stated. It brought back memories of when you told Ereinion that being a King was burdensome and his life was constantly in danger. “You would make a great King, Elrond. Ereinion, I and…the others taught you well. We’re not rushing you, but the offer still stands since Ereinion and I didn’t have any descents of our own. I was never one for children.” You laughed with a bit more colour in your voice.

Your laughter made Elrond’s head snap in your direction causing his eyes to widen. You were smiling and laughing with a teaspoon of mirth, different from the rumours he heard from your servants. “Will you…Will you continue to stay here in Lindon, or will you accompany me to Imladris? There are many who are looking forward to seeing your face,” he whispered with an ounce of fear among the hope, unaware of whether his question would trigger, and shatter the moment.

Darting your eyes to observe the creatures at the pond, you noticed the frogs and dragonflies, the ducks waddling through the water with her ducklings, and the swans. They were Ereinion’s favourite pair since they were black swans. He considered them rare like the both of you with your undying love for one another.

“It doesn’t matter if I leave this world physically, I will never spiritually. I will forever be in your heart and everything you do, always. Know that I love you.”

His last words before he departed.

“Did—Did he at least have an honourable death as a High King?” you asked one last time, too fearful of the real answer.

Elrond knew that his friend’s death was more gruesome than honourable, but given your state of mind, a lie would save your heart from shattering and mead it a bit. Forcing the best realistic smile he could counter; he gave a soft laugh and grinned. “His death was as noble as any other. He gave his life to save Middle Earth and to keep the love of his life safe and alive.”

Feeling your lips trembling at his words, you knew it was a lie, you already heard how he had died at the fiery hands of Sauron; you were touched that he would make his death sound noble. Even you had a hard time seeing how it was courageous and honourable. The intensity of your lips trembling grew before a tear rolled down. Breathing heavily while holding back the rest of the tears, you whispered almost breathlessly, “Thank you Lord Elrond, but I’ll stay here a while longer before coming to Imladris. I still have unfinished conversations with Ereinion; I haven’t poured my heart out enough for him.”

“Understood Your Majesty—apologies, Y/N.” Rising from his seated position, he dipped his head and extended his hand from his heart before making his way out of the pavilion and the gardens, leaving you with your thoughts. Elrond couldn’t help but take one last look at your face as he departed and witness you completely breaking down in the pavilion.

Perhaps it was good that you were finally able to flush all your emotions out. Perhaps Elrond’s words were what you needed to remember your husband in a brighter light.

Masterlist | Underrated Character Event Masterlist |

Taglist: @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @stormchaser819 @wisheduponastar @wandererindreams @batsyforyou

#underratedcharacterevent #gil galad x reader #gil galad imagine #gil galad scenario #gil galad angst #gil galad #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion scenario #silmarillion angst #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #house of finwe #finweans #ereinion gil galad #x reader insert #x reader angst #slight angst #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[hotdideasneverending]

Lost Memories AU

This has been in my brain for a good week or so, and I need to get it out. 

Lost Memory AU, either Genderbend or ABO AU as well. 

So, Aemond follows Luke into the Storm and chases him as per usual only instead of attacking Luke a loud clap of thunder disorients him and Vhagar, the dragon swerving to the side only to be hit in the side by lightning, sending the old dragon down to the ground. In that same moment Luke was also stunned by the thunder and Arrax swerved into Vhagar, slamming into her other side not hit by the lightning and sending him to the ground as well. 

Both dragons land on an abandoned Island that had long since been left behind by people, their riders falling off and down a hill as they laid to rest their wounds that had been caused by the storm. 

Aemond and Luke awake at the bottom of a massive hill, on the beach by a cave with no memory of who they are or how they got there. Aemond is confrontational, Luke trying to calm him down and explain that they must have been on a ship and it fell to the storm, them floating to the beach amidst the waves and Aemond agrees after some time. They get their bearings, realizing they had lost their memories asd they try to remember who they are or where they are from, they settle on the names Luke and Osferth (I am doing it for y’all!), moving to head deeper into the Island as they look for shelter and people. On the way there they see the massive forms of Arrax and Vhagar, Aemond instructing Luke to stay back, ironically, to not go near them as it would be dangerous. 

They explore the island, making jokes and dry quips at one another as they come to the conclusion that they are on an Abandoned island with nothing but themselves and the monstrous, but hurt, dragons. 

Luke makes use of his marine intelligence, he is Corlys’ heir and favorite grandson after all, and helps get fresh water, shelter and food for them both with fishing as well as forging through brushes and forests. Aemond uses his strength to rebuild a home that was in semi-good condition as well as hunting pigs and sheep that had somehow survived the island, skinning them to make clothes and all other needed items. They work in tandem to heal and survive, grating on one another nerves as they try to coexist with the slowly healing dragons who roar each night as if they are calling for someone. 

Throughout that time Luke is getting *feelings* for ‘Osferth’, who is strong, confident and very, very handsome. At the same time ‘Osferth’ finds Luke a bit annoying, overbearing and a whiny baby; but Luke’s intelligence, dedication and warmth has him too falling for him and soon during a rough storm akin to the one they fell in, they fall into bed. Over and over again. They soon get into a relationship, doing everything as before but with a few little side missions in bed that they like to do until the rooster crows in the morning. 

Of course with the bed tango and no moon tea, pregnancy is going to happen and Luke falls pregnant within about…3-4 months of them being there and ‘Osferth’ works harder than ever to learn his beloved's trick of sea life to provide as much as well as stock up on as much as possible. Until one day he needs to head further up to the den of the dragons to gather some berries he knows his lover will crave as they approach their 5th month of pregnancy, them having been missing/presumed dead for little under a year by this point. He manages to grab a basketful before Vhagar spots him and lets out a roar, this shaking ‘Osferth’ who gasps as memories flood back, his life before he was ‘Osferth’ and he remembered his was Aemond Targaryen, the second son of Viserys the Peaceful and the one who was wronged by the bastard he knocked up. 

He returned in a daze, Luke comforting him as he tried to figure out what was wrong. Aemond wanted to be disgusted and he wanted to take out the sinful baby and kill his bastard nephew only to remember the last year or so. 

Luke, despite not knowing who he was or who Aemond was, was nothing more than sweet, kind and caring. More so than his mother who always seemed to go to HIM for kindness and sweetness, Luke had instead given it to Aemond freely. The one thing he had always craved in life that he had to work for from his own MOTHER and FATHER, Luke was giving to him. So he lies, saying that the Dragons startled him and he got too close, Luke responded by kissing him, urging him to be careful and to not leave him behind, Aemond melting as this is what he always wanted. 

Warmth and Love. 

Without expectations weighed upon him. 

He suddenly understood Aegon a bit better now. 

So he continues on as usual, tending to his pregnant lover, receiving love and warmth that only Helaena was ever capable of giving him without added baggage or weight on it. He did all he could from ensuring Luke was comfortable to the pregnant ladies desire for naughty time, he did it all and revealed in the peace he finally had. 

Until he woke up one day, on the 7th moon of pregnancy, to Luke panting, looking at him in fear with a shaking body. 

He remembered. 

Aemond would try and calm Luke down, the other hysterical demanding to know how long Aemond had remembered, demanding to know if this was his plan to ruin Luke and his future; that if he enjoyed tricking him. 

Or if he was waiting till the babe was born to finally kill him. 

Aemond would be hurt, saying he had been aware of everything for two months and had not abandoned him, loving him and their child because he truly did love them. He wanted this life and not the life of the palace anymore as his brother squandered the throne, drink himself into a stupor and he was meant to be his nanny. Luke calms down, they talk it out and agree to contact Luke’s mother, seeing as she had a claim to the throne and would most likely be merciful to his siblings should things be explained…

And her grandchild in her hands. 

So Aemond does, mounting Vhagar to head to Storms End, where he appeared before Borros who had a heart attack at the sight of the supposed dead prince, Aemond demanding for a Raven to be sent out and messaging Rhaenyra about meeting him and Luke on the island.

Within it he placed the embroidered Arrax that Rhaenyra had on her son's clothes, along with a lock of hair from both him and Lucerys.  Then he would send a message to his sister to get her and her children to Dragonstone, urging her to seek sanctuary away from the Greens as he finally sees his Grandfather’s poison for what it is. 

A death sentence. 

On the side of the war…

Blood and Cheese do not happen as Daemon feels like the gods have punished Aemond for the sin of killing Lucerys, but he was not content. He urged his wife to go to war, and she held out for a time until hearing the wind of the feast Aegon threw in honor of her son dying. Corlys and Rhaenys mourn Lucerys who was nothing more than a messenger, they smear the Greens, saying how it was dishonorable to even chase a messenger as Borros had stated Lucerys would not take up arms no matter how much Aemond goaded. 

Jacaerys and Joffrey felt as if the world was pulled out from under them, Lucerys was gone and they wanted vengeance, but stayed their hands as they awaited their mothers order. 

The war had officially begun, with battles here and there but nothing serious until a raven came from Aemond Targaryen, the one who had supposedly by Daemon’s words, struck down by the anger of the gods. The note was simple, saying that he and Lucerys lived, to meet on an Island that was no longer inhabited, to bring Maesters and Dragon keepers to heal Vhagar and Arrax. 

Rhaenyra wept at the hair which was put in the note, smelling it to try and get a scent of her child as Daemon commanded all Dragonriders to get saddled up and to have the best Dragonkeppers and Maesters ready for flight. 

They arrive, Aemond having flown up to lead them to the field in which Arrax was still healing, the Dragon keepers moving to calm the skittish being who recognised it kin and allowed for healing. 

If this was ABO then Daemon would realize that Aemond knocked up his kid and proceed to beat the snot out of him, saying that he had no right and that Lucerys deserved better, to which Aemond agrees but he would never take back what happened. 

In Female Lucerys, he would lead them to the shed where Lucerys is laboring and Daemon would then proceed to beat the ever living snot out of Aemond like as stated above. Even in ABO, Aemond would lead them to a laboring Luke and Daemon would beat him up again because he knew Aemond had mated with his son, he didn’t realize he already fucking knocked him up. 

As the men dealt with Aemond outside, the girls helped Lucerys deliver a boy with Aemond’s hair and Luke’s eyes. 

Daemon entered to see his grandchild, Aemond a bit battered up as he came in to see his son, to which Lucerys proudly states-

“Meet Damian!” 

Daemon would laugh happily, Aemond’s face falling as he realized his son was named basically after Daemon; who promised he had more beatings coming, before they speak of the war and how to end it. 

Don’t know how to continue the rest of it with the war, but after Lucerys takes over Driftmark with Aemond as a sworn shield, and they continue to fuck like rabbits and have as many kids as Jaehaerys and Alysanne.

#lucerys x aemond #aemond x lucerys #lucemond #au #house of the dragon

[outrunningthedark]

Silly question, but do you think the main characters' sort-of reconciliation with their parents will lessen the value of the group's "found family" aspect in the future, or the firefam's dysfunctional family relationships were for early emphasis that the bond they have with each other is stronger than blood ties?

IMO, there's been no evidence to suggest (or outright confirm) that "reconciling" with bio parents will have any long-lasting effects as the weeks and months [and even years] progress. Maddie and Buck: It was a 'blink and you might miss it' moment, but Boston hinted at things not being so bad between Maddie and her parents despite no mention of/appearance by them after 4x05: Phillip emailed her to check in because Chim would call the Buckleys asking if they'd heard from their daughter; Chim wouldn't have done that if the lines of communication were no longer open. Did Maddie reach out to her mother during her struggles with PPD? No. She leaned on Chimney (and her little brother for a bit) and worked on rebuilding the life she wants for herself to get to where she is now. Buck, meanwhile, hasn't been in therapy on-screen post 4x05 and also hasn't discussed his mother or father with anybody despite Kristen's decision to have the parents try harder/be nicer (even if their effort rubs people the wrong way because parents don't usually say *exactly* what kids want to hear). Were the parents meant to "replace" his dependency on Bobby as a father figure, we would have seen them become more of a consistent presence through phone calls (even if we only know who's on the phone because of what Buck says) or relaying of info. The parents have been putting in the work for two years - but that doesn't mean Maddie and Buck are wrong for still expecting something to set them off - and the standard dynamics have remained intact. It will be much of the same as this season continues, because even if Margaret and Phillip never leave Buck's bedside (we won't see that, though), they're still gonna go home once they know he's making a full recovery. With the way Kristen creates scenarios in her head and deems them irrelevant to the narrative, I'd be surprised if either parent is mentioned again before they're supposed to make another appearance. Chimney: Sang seems to have been brought back for Chim to get a story line to himself (prayers answered!), and *my* first thought when watching the episode live was that Sang is either feeling really, really guilty (Albert talking to them about seeing Jee-Yun and realizing what he's missing out on) OR Sang has gotten some unfortunate news regarding his health and he's wanting to "make amends" before he (potentially) passes away - He's going about it terribly, though! If Sang is meant to have limited time left, any "reconciliation" won't mean much in the long run when Chim can't reach out to his father for advice or help. If Sang's return is solely about the guilt, I expect him to get the same treatment as the Buckleys - Chim won't feel compelled to talk about his father unless it's because we're going to be seeing the Han family again. (And keep in mind that the show already does this with Albert, a character that actually served a purpose at one time...) You know what? I understand wanting to see kids cut their parents off - I'm sure it's what many people watching the show have done themselves or wish they had the strength to do - but if we remove the 'parent' and 'child' aspects of the story for a moment (bear with me)...the show has embraced the philosophy that forgiving someone doesn't mean you forget what they've done or have fully healed from their actions, it just means that you're no longer allowing that person to take up unnecessary space in your head and heart because they don't deserve to have such power over you. [And in the case of the Buckleys, forgiveness means that Margaret and Phillip no longer have an advantage. If your kids learn to NOT put up their defenses whenever you're around, you can't get under their easily as easily as before.] (This became an unintentional TL;DR. I'm so sorry.)

#anonymous #tina speaks #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1 #evan buckley #maddie buckley #howie ‘chimney’ han

[starfall-spirit]

My Light, My Strength

Most Romance Week prompts will be attached to a romantic song.

Day 2: Faith Hill's There You'll Be

SJMRW Prompt: Love Languages

Ship: Rowaelin

Summary: Coming home from an exhausting day of delegations and and paperwork, the last thing Aelin wants to do is follow her mate into the main town for his surprise. The gift in store, simple as it may be, turns out to be a memory she'll cherish for her next thousand years with Rowan.

Finally. Silence finally greeted me as my last attendant left the office with my signature in hand. Finally, I could go home to my mate. I could go home to a quiet dinner and a hot bath and a warm bed. Though our efforts to rebuild the kingdom left us with little time and energy for certain types of intimacy, I knew I could at least count on Rowan to hold me night after night.

But doubt reared it's head as I froze at my bedroom threshold, surprised to find my mate dressed in nice, yet casual clothes. He was clearly ready to head out, rather than dine in the privacy of our room. "Where are you off to?"

"We are off to your surprise."

I sighed, trying to politely decline leaving the castle without making him think I was ungrateful to his effort in whatever he had planned for the night. "Rowan, can it wait until tomorrow? Or another day I don't have a thousand things to do."

"You're a young queen rebuilding a conquered country, Aelin. You'll always have a thousand things to do. That's why we have to make time." He kissed my forehead. "Come on. I promise you'll love it." Still, I hesitated. He was clearly dying to show me whatever his plotting had amounted to. "Two hours,” he pressed. When had things gotten so dismal my mate was bargaining time to take me on a date? “We'll be home before the stars greet us, I promise."

I nodded. "Two hours, Whitethorn."

He grinned. "You're dressed to impress, Fireheart. Go change into what I laid out. We're going casual tonight.”

~~~~~

Twenty minutes later I was dressed in flats and a summer dress, my pinned hair let loose to flow down my back, rustled by the summer evening's breeze. Passing through the town square, Rowan guided me a bit further, finally stopping before a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant I hadn't seen in over a decade.

My exhaustion faded to awe. "Rowan, how did you—" My chest tightened. "The last time I was here I was with my mother. She'd take Aedion and I into town in the mornings. We always ended with lunch here."

"Your cousin's shared a story or two from your childhood. I know how stressed you've been lately. I thought getting away from the politics and back to your people may help.”

Because Terrasen was a country that thrives beyond the castle walls. I was queen to more than snobbish lords looking for a vulnerability in my early reign.

Guilt settled in and I turned my back to the restaurant. “Three months. I’ve been so busy proving I could navigate official matters, I’ve barely considered… Thought dead for a decade, and after winning the war, their consort greeted them before their queen.”

“We understand.” I whipped back around, a familiar woman standing in the shop entrance. The human restaurant owner was in her mid-forties now, but she’d hardly changed from the woman I remembered. “It seems congratulations are in order.”

“Amelie.”

“Hello, Aelin.”

I swallowed, hugging her tightly. She had adored Aedion and I those years ago, and I would never forget her kindness. Maybe it was an extra spoonful of dessert for Aedion and I. Other times we earned the treat of watching the kitchen at work. All were moments I treasuered and never imagined I'd find again.

“Sometimes order must be found before all else. What matters is that you’re here now.” She pulled back, pride in her eyes. “You’ve grown up.”

I chuckled. “You could say that.”

“Come on then. Your mate’s reserved a table for you.”

Even in the evenings the town was buzzing. Few people had stopped to gawk or request my attention as Rowan and I walked here, but here in the little family business… Some seemed wary, others welcoming, and some were just downright stunned. I offered a warm smile, my attention dragged away at the light scrape of my chair on the tile floor.

"Relax, Fireheart."

The endearment instantly soothed my nerves, the tension in my shoulders easing as my mate seated me before moving around the table. Eyes slipped away and I let the quaint charm of the place—the warm paint choice, the smell of freshly cooked meat and vegetables, the chatter and music from the next street—wash over me.

This was my childhood beyond the castle. And however much or little of its history my mate had gathered, sitting here for the first time in over a decade with him was… healing.

An appetizer tray and house wine was brought to the table before we were left to choose our meal. “What are you thinking, Aelin?”

There was something tender in his tone telling me he wasn’t asking about what I had in mind for my order. “I’m thinking it’s a miracle.”

“That we made it?”

I smirked. “It’s a miracle, Rowan, that we went from being at each others throats to you surprising me with a chance to forget things for a few moments. We’ve come a long way since Wendlyn. And not just geographically.”

He smiled. “Save business for tomorrow, Fireheart.”

“No.” He sighed. “Tomorrow, I won’t even think of politics and parties.” I watched worry morph to pride and felt my smile grow to match his. “Tomorrow, Rowan, I greet my people.”

~~~~~

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[shae-c-art]

Hey everyone. It’s been awhile. I’m back. Kinda. I’m not really used to being this vulnerable, but I’ve been gone for so long and so much happened in my personal life that I feel like I need to explain more than just being vague about life getting hard. This post got longer than expected so I put it under the cut. Just a heads up, there’s a lot to do with physical disability, surgery, illness, depression and the pandemic in this post.

To start, I don’t actually know the words to fully describe it, but mentally I shut down. I could not cope anymore with the stress of the pandemic and trying to protect everyone in my family while also being immune compromised myself. I just collapsed in on myself. I didn’t even realize it was happening till it happened. I kept looking for solutions without really letting myself recognize the problem, because admitting that my depression was getting to the point of overwhelming me, even with medicine and a therapist and friends, was to scary and painful. I didn’t know what to do. Distractions weren’t working. I lost so much time because every day blended into each other and that led to weeks and months blending together, and I shattered. I over promised to people and couldn’t deliver. I signed up for things and had to drop out. 

I was drowning without realizing I’d even slipped under the water. 

Then my body seemed to catch up with my mental state. I wound up being violently sick for a month. It wasn’t Covid. It was a flu that I truly believe if I’d lived in another time period, would have killed me. I had to be admitted to Urgent Care twice for dehydration, I lost weight rapidly because I couldn’t keep anything down, not even water, and my fever got to 102 at one point. When I finally got to the end of that though, there was one more surprise in store for me. I have arthritis. I’ve had it ever since I was a kid. Often times people just associate it with achy joints but it’s so much more than that. It’s an autoimmune disease that causes the body to attack healthy cells by mistake. That’s what leads to the inflammation and swelling of joints. I’m on something now that helps that by suppressing my immune system, but that also makes me more vulnerable to other things and if you’re sick or have an infection, you’re not supposed to take it. So I didn’t take it during the month I was sick. 

Cue my immune system picking up, but because of the arthritis, it went into overdrive and went overboard from after the virus was gone. This wound up causing intense inflammation and pain, specifically in my right knee and elbows. My left arm and right knee especially, I could no longer straighten either out completely, but my leg was the worst. I have never been in the kind of pain I was in during that. It didn’t matter if I was laying or sitting down, if my leg was elevated, level or down, I was just in overwhelming pain. I wound up going to the Emergency Room and being admitted to the hospital for surgery so my knee could be drained. 

I’d like to say I came out of it totally fine right away and it was great. But that wasn’t the case. I had to face one of my greatest fears which is helplessness, because I was. I no longer had the ability to get up from a bed or chair easily or walk on my own. For a few days after I got home from the hospital, I had to have someone hold onto me if I needed to walk because even with a walker, I couldn’t do it on my own. 

Eventually I was able to use a walker on my own and from there move onto using a cane instead. 

It was months of recovery though, not just to rebuild leg strength, but to heal enough from the flu, the arthritis flare up and surgery, to be able to not get exhausted and need to sleep after only a few hours of being awake. 

I’m now able to walk again on my own without assistance and my arms and leg have full mobility again. I’m still not at the leg strength I was previously, but that’s going to come with time and building my muscles again. 

It felt important to me to make this post. Because I’m not good at admitting, even to myself let alone others, that I’m not okay and that I have limitations. I’m so used to just downplaying how I feel and saying I’m okay, even when I’m really not. I made this post too because I was anxious about making this post and coming back because I feel like I’ve been drowning for so long that even now that I’m out of the water, I’m not sure how to begin rebuilding. But I know I want too and that I need to. I think if I had let myself recognize what I was going through much earlier with my mental state, I wouldn’t have over promised things to people or signed up for things and had to drop out and overall, I wouldn’t have disappointed others if I had actually acknowledged that I wasn’t doing good. I couldn’t have avoided the health issues, but I think even they would have felt less emotionally and mentally traumatic, if I had let myself acknowledge previously that I wasn’t doing good and couldn’t take on anything else, even if I wanted to. 

I’m doing that now though. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long without a word. I’m sorry if I worried anyone or let anyone down by my absence and lack of communication. I own that. That’s part of the rebuilding process and rebuilding relationships that I let falter because I couldn’t keep up my end. 

I’m doing better now, but I’m not sure if I truly feel I can say I’m okay. It’s something I’m having to take day by day and saying ‘I’m okay’ when I wasn’t, is something that came back to bite me. So even though I’m not sure if I’m okay mentally now, I know I am doing better, and one day I will feel confident in saying I’m okay. 

Thank you all for reading this. I hope this helps knowing more about what happened and why I just vanished from tumblr the way I did. I’m not sure how active I can be right now, but I’m still here. Thank you all. 

#personal update

[atomic-thomas]

(Fake ASMR Commission) Urban Giantess [Part 3]

------------------------------------------------------------

*construction site ambience*

"Has everyone made it to safety? This building is going down & I need to make sure that no one gets hurt."

...

"I'm all clear? Good. Here I go!"

"HYAAAH!" *crumbling sound* "NGAAAH!" *crumbling sound* "HAAAH!" *crumbling sound*

"Whew! Even for someone like me, demolishing buildings is hard work."

"Wait... Is that who I think it is? Oh My God, it is! Hold on, guys. That's my friend over there. I haven't seen them in a while."

*some giant footsteps to approach the listener*

"Hey there! It's been so long. How've you been?"

...

"That's nice. I've been busy with volunteer work. You caught me on the job."

...

"Oh, that building? I've been assigned to tear it down. We're gonna build a super mall in It's place. Good thing the crew has a big girl like me to rely on. Although... I don't think they'll be able to rely on me for much longer."

...

"Well, here's the thing. It's time. Gulliver Engineering finished rebuilding the size ray. After all these months, I'm finally gonna return to normal. Provided the device doesn't malfunction again."

...

"I'm just going to assume that it won't. I don't even know what I'd do with my life if it did. Fortunately, they've spent the past few weeks polishing & refining the machine. They're pulling out all the stops to make sure that nothing goes wrong. It's a comforting thought."

...

"Yeah, my co-workers are gonna miss me. They were sad when I told them the news. The fire department was especially upset. But they understood my desire to live a normal life again. I'll admit, I'm gonna miss this part of being a giantess. It's been fun, but it just isn't worth staying at such an uncomfortable size. I could do with viewing the city streets at ground level again, eating normal portions of food & living in my cozy apartment with regulated temperatures while enjoying some quality entertainment on my wide-screen TV. Ahhh, that sounds nice."

...

"Ever since Autumn started, sleeping in the park has been a much colder experience. I'm glad the size ray got rebuilt just in time. I don't think I could endure sleeping outside much longer."

...

"I'm sorry, but GE won't allow any visitors during my appointment. It's probably for safety reasons. Or legal reasons. Whatever the case may be, you simply can't be in the lab with me. It's out of my control."

...

"I'd love to stay & chat, but I'm slacking off right now. I should really get back to wrecking this building. It won't destroy itself. Hopefully, I'll be normal sized when we meet again."

.....*scene transitions & construction ambience stops*.....

*city & traffic ambience takes it's place*

"Hey!"

...

"Ehehe~ Surprise! It's me. Your no-longer-giant friend."

...

"That's right! The appointment was a success. I'm finally back to normal. Ahhh, it feels so liberating. Gone are the days where I have to be careful not to crush cars or people. No longer do I need to eat an absurd amount of food just to have a basic meal. And the best part... I get to sleep in my own bed again."

...

"And normal hygiene care. Seriously. You really don't wanna know what I had to when I was a giantess. It would be such a headache to explain."

"Anyway, I know this is random & totally coming out of nowhere, but... May I please hug you? I haven't felt a proper hug in months. You've also been a great source of emotional support during those times & I just feel like showing affection right now."

...

"Thanks! Now get in these arms."

...

"Hahhh... This feels refreshing. Before, I would just hold you in the palm of my hand, but now I can embrace you with my entire arms. Full strength!"

...

"Oh, too tight? Sorry. Haha~ I'm just so happy right now. Bursting with excitement."

...

"So... What do you wanna do now? Another date perhaps?"

...

"Oh yeah! That new Godzilla movie I played the villain in. It's premiering in theaters. I won't spoil a single thing about it. We need to go see it right now. We can go back to my place after we're done if you want."

"Yeah, come on! Let's go! It's gonna be so cool!"

...

"So what if people recognize me? It's not like I'm trying to hide my identity. I've already accepted my title as 'The Woman Who Was As Tall As A Building'. I'll take that over having to dig helicopters out of my hair. Now let's quit burning daylight. We've got a movie to watch."

.....*another scene transition*.....

*door sound*

"Be honest with me... How good was my acting?"

...

"Only the best. Well, I did give it my all. I had to fully immerse myself in the role of the Titanic Cosmic Goddess. And the editors did an amazing job with the CGI. The way I leveled that city was incredible!"

...

"Well, of course Godzilla still won. I was the antagonist after all. Powerful as I was, I never stood a chance against the King of the Monsters."

...

"You know... It's kinda funny. When we first met, I saw you the same way as anyone else. Just another person looking for clout. I almost didn't even give you a chance. It's a good thing I did."

...

"Yes, I think we can comfortably call each other 'Besties' now. You're the kind of friend anyone would want. You were there for me when I was down. I can't thank you enough."

"This day shall mark the beginning of a brighter future. A future where I can live out the rest of my days in peace."

_______________________________________________

THE END

[adlbeay]

I wanted to talk about the themes in the Walk in the Dust event. The story of Arknights has always had a high level of thematic consistency, but it’s especially prominent in this event. I feel like a lot of the discussion of the story in certain places comes down to “lore” and surface-level plot details, so I wanted to get this out there somewhere.

The two big ideas that are covered in Walk in the Dust are that of revenge and the homeland. Let's talk about revenge first. Long post and story spoilers under the cut.

In the beginning, we are introduced to Elliot, aka Passenger, who by the time we meet him, is an aimless husk of a man. He is utterly empty inside despite being the most powerful figure in the Reefsteep black  market, with vast wealth and political influence under his thumb. Having completed his decades-long quest to slay everyone who was involved in betraying his teacher, he has no more goals for his life. After killing  the Lord Ameer of Ibut, the last of his targets, he realizes that the revenge he had been pursuing was ultimately empty, that the weapons he built and the schemes he engineered to that end no longer moved him. Even the death of the Lord Ameer didn't matter one bit in the political landscape of Sargon.

As for the Sargon army... We live in different times now. The ruling  Padishahs simply care not about what is happening here in this barren  wasteland. My guess is that it matters not to them whether it's the  father or the son that's in charge. Actually, to tell the truth, it  hardly matters to me either.

Ultimately, no one cared if the Lord Ameer was murdered or simply  died in an accident, not even Elliot himself. Sargon continues to be exploited by the Columbian military and the ruling Lords. Professor Thorne remains dead. His research, once entrusted to Elliot to prevent  it from becoming a weapon of war, has nonetheless been used by Elliot  himself to bring even more death. Now, 22 years later, Passenger sees  finding Kal'tsit as his only path to salvation, so that she can once  again give him a purpose like she did when she rescued him the first time.

Folinic's mom, Lillia, also shares the same kind of story. Her husband was killed in Chernobog when the count decided to purge the researchers working on the sarcophagus device. Among the children of the families broken up by this incident are Lyudmila (later Crownslayer), Alex and Misha (later Skullshatterer), and Luisa (later Folinic). Lillia finds Kal'tsit after months of searching, intending to take revenge on  Grand Duke Vanya not just for her husband, but also for Luisa, who never got to know her father because of it. Kal'tsit tries to talk her out of  it, even during the final phases of the plan, but Lillia's mind is set.  She entrusts Kal'tsit with taking care of both Luisa and Lyudmila, as  she knows she won't be able to come back to live a normal life after  this. And... she succeeds. Although it is Kal'tsit who ultimately administered the poison, their plan works flawlessly and Duke Vanya is finally dead.

Except it still ended up being completely meaningless. The Grand Duke was in a glorified nursing home already near the end of his life, and if Kal'tsit didn't kill him then some other conspirator from the Ursus  political backstage would have done it anyway. He was already crippled and blind, and as we find out during the confrontation with the Emperor's Blade, even Kal'tsit only agreed to Lillia's plan because it  defused the conspiracies of other powerful figures who would have used  the Duke's death to spark another rebellion. The only thing that Lillia ended up accomplishing was making sure that Louisa would grow up without both a mother and a father, and Lyudmila would never get the answers she really wanted about her family's death. And, although she ended up not doing it, she was even also planning to go back to Chernobog to kill  Sergei, Alex and Misha's father, for his betrayal.

And this carries on through the future outside the event. Crownslayer ends up joining Reunion because she thinks it will give her the answers  she wants and avenge her father. Folinic almost lets her anger at Atro's death get her into a confrontation with Wolumonde. In the end, Crownslayer is stopped by Kal'tsit and Folinic is calmed down by  Suzuran, but we might be able to imagine what would have happened if  they managed to carry out their vengeance.

The theme of homeland is one that's intrinsically tied to Kal'tsit and has at least a bit of relation to the broader story outside of the event. It's harder to talk about since it's not clearly  split into individual stories like previously, but there's at least one character that exemplifies this theme the most: Old Isin.

Old Isin is appropriately to his name, old as rocks. He remembers being a servant to some lord of a long-lost city that very few even know once existed, and spends his time telling fortunes while trying to seek out people who, like him, also share that past. According to Kal'tsit, the city's people were scattered when it was destroyed, and now only Isin even remembers the origin of the name "Reefsteep". Even then, Isin only has vague memories, and believes it to be his unforgivable sin that  he has forgotten so much about the city.

Old Isin originally helps Kal'tsit and Elliot because he hopes that  she can help him remember about the lost city, and thus absolve his  "unforgivable sin". And Kal'tsit indeed does help him. Isin begins to recall the conquests of armies a thousand years ago, something even with  his age he should not have been a part of, much less remembered.  Kal'tsit dispels the illusions clouding his memory, and reveals that  what Isin remembers is only the stories that the padishah recounted to  him, that the glory of his old city was only a memory of another memory. In truth, the city in Old Isin's memory was merely a stepping stone for the padishah's ambition to conquer the uncharted deserts, and was abandoned just as easily when that campaign failed. His homeland's glory was just an illusion created in his mind by the padishah's charisma.

Which brings us to the Emperor's Blade. Wherever he stands is the dominion of the Empire of Ursus. Whatever he does carries out the Ursus Emperor's will. Or at least, that's how the Royal Guards imagine themselves, single-handedly carrying out their homeland's legacy. Kal'tsit lays it out clearly:

Kal'tsit: Tell me, what does the current Ursus Emperor think of the Pine Valley affair? Or do you mean to tell me the seeds of that uprising, the origins of the crisis were all the will of the Emperor? Feel free to keep deceiving yourself, but the truth is the young emperor is unaware of the events that transpired there. You believe he has no  need to know. You... all of you seek a bygone era. You are just caught up in the former emperor's grand vision!

As does Patriot in Chapter 8:

Patriot: I fought with your fathers. Your strength and tactical acumen are no less impressive than theirs. But you look at the Ursus of those times with rose-colored glasses. What you see is nothing more than your wild fantasies.

The Royal Guards are described in not too unclear words as soldiers  who probably believed too much of their own grandiose affect. They are unparalleled fighters, to be sure, but it isn't hard to infer that those words about executing Ursus's will and each Royal Guard being his own nation are words intended to strike fear into their enemies rather than  statements of any real truth. Indeed, if you know anything about the internal politics of Ursus, the idea of "Ursus's own will" can be seen as more of a nostalgia at a bygone era when Ursus was, or at least seemed, united in conquest under the previous Emperor. The perceived glory of their homeland is what motivates the Emperor's Blade, but like with Old Isin, the truth behind it is shaky at best.

We also have the contrast between the retired veteran at Pine Valley  and Grand Duke Vanya. While talking to Witte, the veteran cuts off one of his own fingers, claiming that the scars he has suffered in Ursus's wars, once considered symbols of his glory and honor, were ultimately meaningless, and he wants this self-inflicted wound to be his only legacy to Ursus. At the same time, the Grand Duke is postulating about how the seeds he had sown in the winter would give birth to beautiful flowers. Even though his actions and the crimes he committed never bore fruition, he is convinced even in death that Ursus's soil will bloom.

The issue of a real or imagined homeland, and its loss, is also  shared by the Sarkaz as a whole not only in this story but in the main story and many other events. It's even arguable that Rhodes Island's mission to help the Infected was originally inherited from Babel's goal of establishing a stable homeland for the Sarkaz. After all, as pointed  out in many places, the Infected and Sarkaz share much of the same discrimination.

Sarkaz Mercenary: Home...? How could us devils... us Infected possibly have one... Kal'tsit: The Sarkaz have tried to rebuild 'Kazdel', their home for centuries, though they have never succeeded. Everyone has a different idea as to what the term 'homeland' means, but as it stands right now,  Kazdel is perhaps as close as you can get to the term's original meaning.

And in Twilight of Wolumonde:

Armed Infected: We’re going home? To what home?

Mudrock: Kazdel. There may be no place for Sarkaz outside of Kazdel.  But in Kazdel, there is a place for you. Not because of tolerance. But because there is... nothing there. Kazdel... is where the homeless go. A land of rootless people.

So what does all this have to do with Kal'tsit?

In the ending cutscene, Passenger asks Kal'tsit whether this "Rhodes  Island" is yet another passing persona to be used to accomplish a goal and discarded when it's complete. Like the persona of the Trusted  Advisor, or the Servant, or the Laterano Cleric, will she abandon Rhodes  Island as well? Kal'tsit initially puts up a front saying he has no  right to ask, then bluffs about having thousands of answers, but is pushed by Passenger saying he'll even accept a lie. In one of the only times we get to see Kal'tsit faltering, she actually has no answer to this.

Unlike the other characters we see throughout the story, Kal'tsit has no homeland. No matter how fake or illusory it is, Old Isin and the Royal Guard have something to believe about a place where they can belong. The nobles in Victoria, as incompetent as they appear from the outside, are dedicated to defending the peace of their home despite having no ruler. Even the ostracized Sarkaz can ultimately go back to Kazdel, as unpleasant as that might be. But while Kal'tsit wanders the earth to keep the homelands of others from falling into chaos, she has no homeland of her own to go back to.

In one of the trailers for Chapter 9, we hear a recording from Theresa, addressed to Kal'tsit: "I hope this Rhodes Island can be a place to call home, a place you can always return to."

#arknights #arknights spoilers #kal'tsit

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt 1) NMJ is the son of the concubine, NHS is the son of the legal wife, who had difficulty conceiving because of an old night hunting injury, and picked out a concubine for her husband who was big and strong and healthy as on ox - the strength got passed on, her more even temperament didn't. The legal wife conceived later, with much difficulty and they weren't entirely sure NHS would live at first

ao3

��Are you well?” Nie Mingjue asked Jin Guangyao, his voice stiff, and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong, surprised by the question, as well as the fact that Nie Mingjue was talking to him at all.

Normally, he would assume that Nie Mingjue was doing it because Lan Xichen was encouraging him to get along with Jin Guangyao again, but Lan Xichen was in the Cloud Recesses, had been in the Cloud Recesses for quite some time. Officially, he was helping oversee the rebuilding; unofficially he was caring for his brother, who had officially entered seclusion and unofficially was healing from a punishment so grievously terrible that Jin Guangyao was reminded all over again why one could not trust the righteous facades of the wealthy and powerful Great Sects.

Not that he needed much reminding, here in Jinlin Tower…

At any rate, Lan Xichen couldn’t be the reason Nie Mingjue was asking Jin Guangyao about his well-being, and that meant that his stern, grim-faced oldest sworn brother was doing it on his own, for reasons of his own.

Naturally, Jin Guangyao mistrusted that even more.

“Of course, da-ge,” he said with a practiced smile. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, somehow, impossibly, even stiffer than before. “No, I just – I meant – with Jin Zixuan’s death. It must have made it – hard. Here. For you.”

That was a staggeringly perceptive insight, and the fact that it came from Nie Mingjue, who thought ignoring rumors until they went away was a valid strategy, was something of an uncomfortable surprise. Even Lan Xichen hadn’t really thought of Jin Guangyao in the aftermath of Jin Zixuan’s death and the ensuing calamity, with the Nightless City and Wei Wuxian’s final downfall and everything with Lan Wangji taking away his attention; at best, he’d penned a careless letter belatedly expressing that he was sad that Jin Guangyao hadn’t had more of an opportunity to get to know Jin Zixuan better before his untimely demise.

Not even Su She had said anything, taking Jin Zixuan’s death as an unmitigated good – an obstacle out of their way, and nothing more. Easy enough for him to think as sect leader of his own sect, however small.

Not so easy for Jin Guangyao.

Not so easy when Madame Jin’s dislike of him had turned to full-blown maddened hatred, when his father looked at him like filth on his shoe, when they wouldn’t let him anywhere near Jin Ling as if his mere touch were some sort of toxic poison…

“…thank you,” he said cautiously. “I’ve been doing fine.”

Nie Mingjue jerked his head in a nod. “Avoid the sect elders for a time,” he said, and when Jin Guangyao looked at him, he was staring straight ahead, not looking at him at all. “Be careful with what you eat and drink. Some people don’t like to take chances.”

Was Nie Mingjue – Nie Mingjue – warning him about a possible assassination attempt? The man who had barely consented to using spies during wartime, who thought politics could be conducted through above-board dealings, who thought bribery and blackmail were unacceptable crimes? Him?

The world had truly turned upside down.

“I’ll be careful,” Jin Guangyao said, and found to his embarrassment that his tone had unconsciously softened, revealing the sudden fondness he was feeling for no good reason. He could rationalize it as a deliberate move, because allowing Nie Mingjue to do him a favor and sounding touched about it was a good way to get closer to him, to get back through those iron defenses of his. The problem was that it wasn’t a stratagem, not really, and that was dangerous.

Nie Mingjue nodded again, and Jin Guangyao expected him to move on – he and Nie Mingjue might be sworn brothers, but they didn’t chat – but he didn’t. He lingered, instead, clearly wanting to say something, something he was chewing over and not quite able to spit out.

Unusual, for someone who normally prided himself on being straightforward and direct.

“Is there something else?” Jin Guangyao eventually asked when Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to be actually making any progress towards saying anything.

Nie Mingjue grimaced and took a step – off to the side, to a corner of the path that was a little more secluded than most. Interestingly, he didn’t make the amateur mistake of going for one of the obviously secluded alcoves, which of course had all sorts of hiding-holes for eavesdroppers, but rather ended up in one of the few areas where the architecture created a natural dead space for sound.

Intrigued, Jin Guangyao followed him there.

Once they were there, Nie Mingjue still looked awkward – he was still refusing to look directly at Jin Guangyao, as if they wouldn’t be talking in hushed tones in a secluded corner if he didn’t admit that that was what they were doing – but finally said, “Would it help or hurt if I said anything?”

Jin Guangyao frowned a little, not following. “Said anything?”

“About the inheritance,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened. “You’re the only recognized son left; you ought to be named heir until Jin Ling is full grown. But that doesn’t mean people will let that happen so easily.”

Jin Guangyao would have been less surprised if Wen Ruohan had spontaneously resurrected himself from the dead and performed a brothel fan dance on the front lawn of Jinlin Tower.

It had not even remotely entered his calculations that Nie Mingjue would be anything but an obstacle to his ambitions for power over the Lanling Jin sect – at best, he had hoped only that Nie Mingjue would be convinced that Jin Zixuan’s death was wholly Wei Wuxian’s fault and not find some way to blame Jin Guangyao for it, and that he wouldn’t immediately suspect that Jin Guangyao of scheming to kill Jin Ling and take the whole thing for himself.

He’d never dreamed that Nie Mingjue might think that he deserved it.

“I’ll support you, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, as if it were obvious, when it was the least obvious thing that had ever happened in Jin Guangyao’s life. “But I’m not actually any good at this sort of thing, you know – playing politics with the internal affairs of other sects. I don’t want to make things worse for you just because I don’t know what the right approach is, especially not here.”

Jin Guangyao stared at him.

Nie Mingjue, not hearing a response, glanced at him and scowled. Lowering his voice still more, he said, “Think on it carefully. Sect Leader Jin hates me personally, but my Nie sect isn’t nothing, not even in Lanling. It’s still more so after the war, after all those battles I won to save the Jin sect’s rotten – that is, after everything I did to help. Even if your father doesn’t like it, he still has to give my sect face, and his sect elders know it. You’re a war hero, and my sworn brother; if a public stand on my part would help make things easier for you…”

“I’ll think on it carefully,” Jin Guangyao assured him, his mind already racing over the possibilities. Nie Mingjue underestimated himself – he wasn’t just a war hero, he was the war hero, the righteous and unyielding war god that had won an impossible war for the rest of them. He was Jin Guangshan’s chief rival for the position of Chief Cultivator and he wasn’t even trying to get the position; he probably wanted nothing more than to go home to Qinghe and sleep for three months and yet practically every single sect leader that Jin Guangshan felt out on the subject invariably dropped his name as the possible alternative. Assuming he was serious, and Nie Mingjue was always serious, his public support would make it extremely tricky for Jin Guangshan to refuse to name Jin Guangyao as the official heir, even if he tried to claim that this was a private matter. The rest of the sect would force him to do it, even against his will.

Moreover, Lan Xichen would follow Nie Mingjue’s lead, or at least could be easily encouraged into doing so. He was so distracted with his brother, if Jin Guangyao went to him and pointed out that Nie Mingjue thought it was a good idea to stand behind him…no, he wouldn’t even need to do that. Everyone knew how much better his relationship with Lan Xichen was in comparison to Nie Mingjue; if Nie Mingjue stood behind him, everyone would assume that Lan Xichen did as well, and then he would have two of the remaining Great Sects backing his right to inherit – even if only in the interim – the seat of power for Lanling Jin, as the only recognized son…

Except, of course, Jin Guangshan had already accounted for that.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes flickered. Perhaps there was a way to test Nie Mingjue’s sincerity.

“There is one issue,” he said, and Nie Mingjue turned his head to look at him directly. “My father has – decided to bring home another son.”

Nie Mingjue stared at him. “Another son?”

“From a minor noble family of commoners –”

“He brought one home now?” Nie Mingjue said, and he sounded angry. He always sounded angry, but this time he sounded angry on Jin Guangyao’s behalf, something he hadn’t been since Langya, since Qinghe, and it thrilled Jin Guangyao’s heart to hear it. He’d always secretly enjoyed having someone as physically and politically strong as Nie Mingjue in his corner, the power of it going to his head; it was even more so now, when he was finally in a position where he could really use it. “That’s a deliberate insult to you, and for what? Some untried boy…”

One who isn’t the son of a prostitute, Jin Guangyao thought, but of course Nie Mingjue wouldn’t think about it that way. He never had, not from the beginning.

“Father is of course within his rights to bring home whoever he wishes, for the best interest of the sect,” he said diplomatically, and Nie Mingjue huffed and rolled his eyes. “Da-ge…”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Nie Mingjue said curtly. “Think on it, and tell me what you want me to do.”

With that he turned away and strode off towards the main hall, a scowl firmly on his face.

Jin Guangyao watched him go, pleased – Nie Mingjue was really too easy to manipulate, if you knew him well enough. He’d keep quiet during the opening ceremony of the conference, but if he was really sincere about standing up for Jin Guangyao’s right to inherit, there would be no way he’d be able to refrain from expressing his views to Jin Guangshan at some point later that evening.

Sure enough, Nie Mingjue seethed throughout most of the complex and beautiful ceremony Jin Guangyao had arranged to show off Lanling Jin’s wealth and strength and taste – all wasted on him, naturally, so Jin Guangyao didn’t take any offense – and through dinner as well, and afterwards found a reason to make his way over to Jin Guangshan. After a few words, they both retreated to one of the receiving rooms.

Jin Guangyao made his excuses very shortly thereafter and slipped away: the receiving rooms, at least, were not dead spaces, and he knew all the ways to listen in there.

By the time he arrived, they were already arguing.

“ – what business of yours?” Jin Guangshan was snarling. “These are my private family matters!”

“He is my sworn brother,” Nie Mingjue said in return, his voice stiff as always. It was interesting to Jin Guangyao that he still didn’t seem happy about admitting that fact; he was still resentful of Jin Guangyao, still suspicious, and yet he supported him regardless, just because he thought it was his right. Ah, the foolishness of good people! “When you refuse to give him face, that becomes my business.”

Jin Guangshan spat, audibly. Jin Guangyao, still carefully moving into a position where he could see as well as hear, hoped he’d aimed it at the floor and not at Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Jin Guangshan said. “I suppose I really shouldn’t be so surprised to find you supporting him, should I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nie Mingjue demanded, and Jin Guangyao wondered the same.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Jin Guangshan said. Jin Guangyao had never heard his father sound so cruel – and he had quite a bit to compare it to. “They do say like calls to like, don’t they?”

Jin Guangyao had just finally gotten into view position, which meant he was just in time to see all the blood drain out of Nie Mingjue’s face as if he’d just been stabbed.

“You may have won some merit,” Jin Guangshan said, and he was smirking now. “But they do say blood always tells – or did you think that people would forget that it’s your brother that’s the true-born son, and you merely a concubine’s get?”

He was what?

Nie Mingjue was –

It was impossible. Surely, it was impossible.

And yet Nie Mingjue was not denying Jin Guangshan’s words, was not getting angry at the slander, was standing there stiff-backed and grim-faced –

“I still remember how disappointed your father was when his beautiful, beloved, delicate wife couldn’t get a pregnancy to last the term,” Jin Guangshan said, picking up one of the jars of wine and taking a swig. “He didn’t want to take a concubine at all, thought it’d be disrespectful to his wife, but what could he do? He was the sole heir, with an obligation to continue his lineage…they bought your mother for the breeding, like bringing in a cow for the farmyard bull.”

He laughed.

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“Healthy, I think he said about her. Healthy and big, good hips for bearing children, good tits to nurse them – that was all he cared about, squeezing a few sons out of her, and she didn’t even manage that. Ran away after the first one, didn’t she? You ever figure out where she went, whether she ended up married to some dumb farmer as illiterate as her, or else lying on her back in a brothel? Dead in a beggar’s grave somewhere, perhaps?”

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“No, it’s no surprise: of course you’d back the little son of a whore for the position of rightful heir, as if letting him take it would help cover up for the way you stole your own brother’s –”

“Watch your words,” Nie Mingjue said, his heavy voice slicing through the air like a saber.

“Still pretending it wasn’t theft, then?” Jin Guangshan laughed again, pacing the room back and forth, prowling like some sort of beast. “You were supposed to step down when he was ready – you had to swear never to have children, never to marry, all so you could warm the sect leader seat until he was grown up and ready to take it himself. But a weakling wastrel like that, he’s never going to be ready, is he? Very clever of you. I bet your sect elders hadn’t thought of you getting around it like that.”

“You dare –”

“Oh, I dare! And I’d dare more, if you think you can push me around!” Jin Guangshan bared his teeth. “Let me tell you now, Sect Leader Nie, if you dare make a public statement of support for Guangyao, I’ll remind the whole world that you’re no better than him, that you ought to be one of the Nie sect’s servants, not its sect leader –”

“Go ahead.”

Jin Guangshan stopped.

“Go ahead,” Nie Mingjue said again, stepping forward, and Jin Guangyao had never actually seen him purposefully use his height against someone, wield it like a weapon to remind the other party which of them was the more terrifying. “I’ve already had half a dozen public arguments with Huaisang about the fact that he needs to take the role of Sect Leader; everyone in my sect knows that he’s the one who keeps refusing. Do you really think everyone is like you? Scrabbling for every scrap of power you can get, like a rat in the rubbish bin?”

Jin Guangshan took an involuntary step backwards as Nie Mingjue continued to advance.

“When there are those who speak against you, you must do so well that they have no choice but to shut their mouths,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was the very same words he had spoken in encouragement to Jin Guangyao, all those years ago when they had first met. At the time, and thereafter, Jin Guangyao had thought him naïve, of not knowing of which he spoke. “Tell me, Sect Leader Jin, if you go out and spew your poison to your sycophants, do you really think any but the most loyal and brainless will open their mouths to condemn me now? Now, when I’ve just won the cultivation world a war, when I saved Lanling Jin a dozen times or more? Do you really think people will remember my mother instead of my saber?”

“You’d be amazed what people remember,” Jin Guangshan said, even if his voice was weaker, more desperate than it had been before. Less mighty and more pathetic than before, as if Jin Guangyao were suddenly seeing him in a brand new light: seeing him as what he was, as a man who would never looked beyond a person’s birth, no matter what their merits. “In the end, public arguments or not, you were the one who raised Nie Huaisang, now a good-for-nothing, a waste, and you sit in his throne, managing his Nie sect. People will remember that! Your sect will still lose face, be dishonored!”

“Fine. Then I’ll just kill you,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangshan gaped at him. “Why not? You’re right. To protect my brother’s birthright, I vowed never to have children, never to marry; the only ambitions in my life were to allow Huaisang to live well as he grew older and to avenge my father, and I’ve accomplished both. Even if they execute me for your murder, what’s it to me? What will I have lost?”

Jin Guangshan’s mouth moved open and closed, mute in his shock, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him.

Nie Mingjue’s lips twisted into a sneer of his own.

“For once in your life, Sect Leader Jin, just do the right thing,” he said, sounding tired, and Jin Guangyao felt something loosen inside of him that had gone inexplicably frozen and pained at the idea of Nie Mingjue breaking all those morals and principles he always seemed to hold so dear.

It was strange. Not a day earlier, Jin Guangyao would have sworn that he would’ve liked nothing more than to see Nie Mingjue pushed too far, forced down into the muck and mud that the rest of them trudged their way through, and now that he saw a hint of it, he’d never wanted anything less.

“Name Meng Yao your heir until Jin Ling is grown,” Nie Mingjue continued. “Reap the benefits of the alliance he brings with him and have us all honor you as an elder, if that’s what you want. But playing games like this…I’d say it’s beneath you, but I’d need a shovel to get that deep. So don’t think about it. Just do it. Or I’ll make you.”

He left, Jin Guangshan still gaping after him. It wasn’t long before he finally started moving, throwing around expensive teacups and furnishings and shouting for servants to bring him a drink and a whore, even though it was early; Jin Guangyao returned to the party, knowing there would be nothing more for him to learn, not when his father was in a mood like that.

Later that night, when the party was over and all cleaned up, he went to the quarters assigned for their guests from the Nie sect and was unsurprised to see a light still lit within the one assigned to the sect leader.

He knocked, and a familiar voice beckoned him to enter.

Nie Mingjue was dressed in a sleeping robe, but he was at his desk, writing a letter; he’d clearly been unable to sleep. He looked up when Jin Guangyao entered.

“What?” he asked, short and sharp and rude as always.

These days, Jin Guangyao usually planned out his encounters with Nie Mingjue in advance, hoping to minimize awkwardness and achieve his goals without too much of a scolding. He’d done that at the very beginning of knowing him, only to rapidly give up during his time at Qinghe – Nie Mingjue was both predictable and yet somehow an utter mystery, and it was easier to just go with the flow, adapt to the circumstances, than it was to plan in advance. Only after he’d left did he start planning once again.

He wasn’t planning now.

“Your mother,” he said, and Nie Mingjue barked a laugh, reaching up with a hand to rub at his eyes.

“Did your father tell you?” he asked. “Or did you just listen in?”

Jin Guangyao shrugged, and Nie Mingjue for once did not seem inclined to demand an answer.

“Is it true?” he asked instead, even though he already knew. “That she was…”

Like mine.

Not exactly like, of course. Jin Guangshan wouldn’t have hesitated to call Nie Mingjue the son of a whore directly if he thought he could get away with claiming it was merely fact, and had managed to imply as much nonetheless. Jin Guangyao’s mother’s shame could never be washed away, not in his lifetime; Nie Mingjue’s birth, being merely low, was not the same.

And yet.

“Oh, it’s true,” Nie Mingjue said mirthlessly. “Right down to the fact that they all but bought her based on how fertile she looked, for all that my father later pretended it wasn’t that, and the fact that she ran away.”

Jin Guangyao blinked. If he was playacting, he might have bitten his lip, averted his eyes, and he still considered doing it, but for the moment he was still feeling too off-balance to really commit to it. “Is she – still alive?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“Have you looked for her?”

“I’ve been sect leader for over a decade,” he said, which wasn’t a denial. “If she wanted to find me, she knows where I am.”

That was a good point, Jin Guangyao supposed.

“Was it hard?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue frowned, clearly not understanding the question. “For you, when it was you. Was it hard to convince them to let you inherit?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes slid half-shut in pained memory. “Yes.”

Jin Guangyao nodded, and went to sit down next to Nie Mingjue, who allowed it, returning to his work. He didn’t say anything.

It was rather atypical for Jin Guangyao – he was always thinking of something to say, when it came to Nie Mingjue, trying to bridge the gap between them with clever words. Perhaps it was only that the gap had shrunk, or had never been as large as he had thought.

After a while, Nie Mingjue said, “You know I wish you were better than you are,” and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong. “But in the end, you’re my brother. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said, and there was that uncalled-for fondness again. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

#mdzs #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #jin guangshan #my fic #my fics #alternative backstory #dead spaces #jessaramine

[tchallasbabymama]

Instinct

Hello, fellow whores. You asked for it and I hope I delivered. I present to you: T’Challa in heat❤️‍🔥! This one had me blushing, y’all.

The next request I work on will either be sugar daddy silver fox T’Challa or Star-Lord T’Challa. I know I just threw the latter in the lineup, but apparently, people are seriously feeling the lack of Star-Lord T content here and I want to do what I can to help fill the void.

Check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots, and, as always, comments and reblogs are my lifeblood! Enjoy😘

Word count: 4,903

CW: SMUT, infidelity

Instinct [instiNG(k)t] noun: an innate, typically fixed pattern of behavior in animals in response to certain stimuli.

For centuries, the descendants of the great Bashenga retained their hold on the Wakandan throne. Challenge Day after Challenge Day, they beat their opponents and were rewarded by Bast allowing them to ingest the heart-shaped herb. The herb imbued them with a panther’s strength, speed, and instincts, effectively turning each of them from an ordinary man into the Black Panther. Now, strength and speed are pretty self-explanatory, but what exactly were their instincts?

When T’Challa was crowned king and ingested the heart-shaped herb, he visited the ancestral plane and reconnected with his baba. Their reunion was one full of tears, but most importantly, T’Chaka took the time to impart his wisdom to his son. T’Challa spent hours talking to his baba about life, what to expect as king, and, most importantly, what to expect as the Black Panther.

T’Chaka had warned him about what was to come, but until it happened to him months later, T’Challa was in denial. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

Wrong. When T’Challa woke up one sunny Wednesday morning, he felt strange. He felt feverish but not sick. Like most days, his morning wood stood at attention, tenting the crisp white sheets that laid across his lower half. He looked at the clock and saw that he had plenty of time to take care of himself, so he rolled to his side and reached for the tub of shea butter in his nightstand. T’Challa bit his lip as he rubbed his hands together to melt it down, but when he reached down to stroke his length, he nearly bit clean through it. He was much more sensitive than usual, and he wondered why...then it hit him. He jumped up and grabbed his kimoyo beads with his slippery hands, and he frantically opened his calendar.

“Twelve weeks,” T’Challa groaned as he counted backward to the night he became the Black Panther (the second time.) “Fuckkkk.”

He was in heat, and it was only going to get worse. T’Challa wracked his brain for ideas on what to do to fix his problem, but all he could hear was T’Chaka’s words echoing through his head.

“You should find a partner sooner rather than later. The instinct will take over you, and it will become unbearable if you do not have anyone to aid you.”

T’Challa had been so busy trying to rebuild the kingdom that his cousin damn near broke that he had forgotten to look for someone. Sure, there was Nakia, but she had moved to Oakland and their relationship quickly fizzled out. Then, there was that one Dora Milaje after he regained the throne, but that was a one-night thing and she went back to her wife the next morning. He needed to find someone, but who?

As the king’s mind wandered through his options, sweat beads began to form on his chiseled body. He knew he’d be no good today, so T’Challa typed up a message to his family and staff that he would be taking the day off. With that taken care of, all he needed to do was figure out how to get through this heat in one piece. T’Challa looked down at his dick again. It was swollen with need, and he watched as droplets of precum escaped from his tip. He couldn’t take it anymore and decided to bear through the sensitivity. Carefully, as though he might hurt himself, he reached his hand down and grabbed it in his hand. The whimper he let out was foreign to his ears, but it was all he could do when he felt the intense wave of arousal wash over him. He gritted his teeth as he began to slowly move his hand up and down his shaft. It seemed that everywhere his hand went, it left a deep burning sensation in its wake, but he just couldn’t stop. He rutted into his hand, and as soon as his thumb swiped over his reddened tip, he came undone quicker than he ever had before. His body jerked as the milky white substance spilled over his hand, and it seemed that he had plenty to give. However, instead of leaving him sated, all that did was arouse him more.

T’Challa had made a mess all over himself and decided to take a shower, but every touch of his hand, or even the water, drove him up the walls. He needed some pussy, fast. He exited the shower and allowed his body to air dry as he moisturized his mahogany skin. Minutes passed before he noticed that he was still massaging himself, too caught up in the sensation to notice the passage of time. His dick was rock hard again, and he groaned in frustration as he attempted to stuff it into silk lounge pants. He called for his breakfast to be brought to him and spent the day in his quarters, alternating between desperately jacking off and going through his contacts to find the right person. It had been so long since he had opened that figurative little black book that all of his usuals were taken, and unfortunately for him, they were hellbent on remaining faithful for some reason. As the day went on, his hunger grew in intensity, and it got to the point where neither his hand nor his sex toys could cut it anymore. He felt lost, he felt horny beyond belief, and he felt...famished.

T’Challa looked at the time again and realized that he hadn’t eaten in hours. He placed another order from the kitchen and waited impatiently for it to arrive. It wasn’t that he couldn’t wait for the food to be brought up; he was impatient because every moment that passed without him touching himself brought him more pain. He didn’t need the poor kitchen staff walking in on him feverishly pleasuring himself, so he just sat there and attempted to focus his mind elsewhere. Eventually, there was a knock at the door, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Room service,” a melodic voice called out, and T’Challa smiled to himself at his friend’s playful tone. It was Xoliswa. He hadn’t seen her in almost a week, and he was sure she was out of town, yet here she was bringing him his dinner. Xoliswa started working in the kitchen at the palace seven years ago, and they grew close over the years. He was even in her wedding.

T’Challa unlocked the door with his beads, and she came right on in with the cart full of more food than he usually ordered.

“Somebody’s hungry today,” she joked. Just as T’Challa was about to respond with some smartass remark, an aroma hit him square in the face. It definitely wasn’t coming from the heaping portions of doro wot and rum cake he ordered. It was sickly sweet and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention, as well as something else.

The king began to salivate. “New perfume?”

“No, just the usual,” Xoliswa sighed. “Why?”

“No reason. You just smell different today is all,” he gulped to keep from drooling at her smooth, brown legs that were always on display. His eyes traveled up to the curve of her hips and the thickness of her waist before grazing over her delicious-looking chest and landing on her plump lips. Of course, he had noticed her looks before, and they would playfully banter and flirt back and forth from time to time, but this was the first time he was really seeing her beauty. Not only could he see it, but he could smell her from across the room, and his body was reacting in ways he couldn’t control. His dick sprung up and immediately started to harden as he watched her ass bounce in her flowy shorts when she pushed the cart out to the balcony. She had gone too far away, and he felt the intense need to be closer to her, so he bolted up and made his way outside with her.

“Here, let me help you.” T’Challa quickly picked up the heavy tray before she could and placed it on the table before taking his usual seat.

“I thought you didn’t feel good today,” she crossed her arms over her chest, unintentionally pushing her ample breasts even closer together. His body burned at the sight, and he visualized his lips wrapped around her undoubtedly perky nipples. He needed her body on his, but he knew he shouldn’t. Xoliswa was a friend, a confidant, a married woman...

“I don’t,” T’Challa cleared his throat and tried to focus his mind on anything but her. It wasn’t working, though. “But, uh, it’s not what you think. I just needed a day, that’s all.”

“Want to talk about it?” Xoliswa asked as she leaned against the balcony. He was acting strange, and it concerned her. “You know I’m here for you if you need me.”

“Don’t say that,” he chuckled darkly as something flared inside him.

“Why not?” she tilted her head to the side and uncrossed her arms. He would’ve sighed in relief, but she just made it worse by stepping closer to him. Xoliswa placed her hands on his shoulders the way she always did and began kneading his bare flesh. Little did he know, he wasn’t the only one fighting back their arousal. Xoliswa had a small crush on T’Challa since the moment she laid eyes on his muscular frame. Had she not been in a relationship the entire time she’d known him, she would’ve dropped down on her knees and given him the business by now. However, Xoliswa loved her husband and wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing...except for the occasional nights where she closes her eyes and all she can see is him. All she can feel is the king.

T’Challa let out a low groan as her hands worked out his stress, and as usual, the sound made Xoliswa flood the panties that had gotten wedged between her fat pussy lips. The scent of her arousal traveled straight to his nostrils, and his pupils blew wide. He jumped up and crossed the balcony in just a few quick strides, needing to get away from her before he truly lost himself to his lust.

“Seriously, what’s up with you today?!”

“N-nothing, you just...you smell so good, and- Xo, I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Xoliswa narrowed her eyes as she tried to figure out what could possibly be wrong with him...but then her eyes fell to the large dickprint in his silk pants. She had seen him in those and similar pants several times before, and although they always left little to the imagination, she had never seen him in his full Bast-given glory. But this time? This time she could almost make out every vein through the soft fabric, which made her pussy spasm with need and release more wetness.

T’Challa could see that Xoliswa was staring right at his dick, and he knew she liked what she saw by the whiff of sweet honey that wafted his way. A low rumbling started in his chest like an engine revving as the burning need in his loins intensified.

Xoliswa spoke barely above a whisper, stunned but in awe of the man before her, “Why are you-”

“My heat,” he sighed.

“Your what?”

“My heat!” T’Challa snarled, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Any other time, he would assume he had scared her, but he knew better now. He could hear her heartbeat, he could smell her dripping pussy, and he could see her hardened nipples and the way her luscious thighs rubbed together in a feeble attempt to quell the throbbing between her legs.

“W-what’s that?”

T’Challa gestured for her to take a seat, and she lowered herself into the chair across from his, squirming in her pooled fluids. Her obedience just made him harder, if that was at all possible. He gingerly sat down across from her and just stared for a moment, her breathing getting shallower with each inhale.

“One of my newly acquired panther instincts requires me to, uh, mate every three months.”

“So...you basically ovulate four times a year,” Xoliswa joked in an attempt to break the tension, but he began to growl at her again, causing them both to shudder at the other’s arousal.

“It’s more than being a little horny and fertile, Xo. I have to- no, I need to find a release, or I’ll go crazy. My whole body is on fire, and masturbating just makes it worse. I’ve been in here all day-”

“You’ve been in here jacking off all day?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s not helping?”

“Not at all.”

“Have you tried-”

“Yes. Whatever it is, I’ve tried it. Trust me.”

Silence descended upon the pair as they both stared at each other, stuck in a lustful feedback loop, chests heaving and mouths watering. Xoliswa was the first to break, so she stood and headed for the door. She had to get out of there, the atmosphere was too thick, and she couldn’t think straight with him staring at her like a piece of meat. She couldn't stand to look at him any longer or she might do something she’d regret later, but when he grabbed her wrist and looked up at her with those pitch-black eyes, she knew she was in trouble.

“Xoliswa, please,” he begged. He knew he had no business asking that of her, but he was desperate, and she just looked so damn delicious.

She bit her lip as her eyes traveled back down to his bulge that had started leaking through the fabric of his pants.

“Shit…”

“You like what you see?” his voice was lower than she’d ever heard. It seemed like everything he did turned her on more and more. T’Challa took a deep inhale so he could know for sure, and his head swarmed with the smell of her. “Yeah, you like it. I can smell that sweet pussy; it’s dripping for me, Xo.”

He had never spoken to her like that before, and every word lured her further into his trap. She had a brief moment of clarity and pulled her wrist from his grasp, taking a step back.

“T-T’Challa, I’m married-”

“Tell your body that, then,” he grumbled as he stood and stalked closer to her. She backed up with every step he took until she was wedged between his body and the doorframe. His arms went up on either side of her, and he leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath tickle her lips. “Tell me right now: do you want me?”

Her eyes darted around, desperate to look at anything but the coal irises that would surely draw her in. “I-I-”

“Say it, Xo. I want you so fucking bad,” T’Challa growled with his face buried in her neck, imprinting her scent deep in his brain. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but take a little bite. As soon as his teeth made contact with her skin, she let out a light moan and set his body into overdrive. He pressed his hips into her, and the heat of her skin made him whimper. The noise shocked her, and she realized just how much he needed her...as if the ten inches of clothed steel pressing into her stomach wasn’t enough of a sign.

Xoliswa had secretly wanted this for a long time. In her dreams, he’d fuck her good and deep and leave her a sobbing, leaking mess. Truthfully, if he had ever come onto her before this, she probably would have caved then, too, but she thought he was too gentlemanly to do so and pushed the dirty fantasy to the back of her mind. Boy, was she wrong. Right now, T’Challa couldn’t give a shit about chivalry and certainly didn’t care about her husband. Right now, all he wanted- no, all he needed was her body.

She pulled his curls to remove him from her neck, and he growled again at the titillating pain and the loss of contact.

“You want me?” she whispered, her lips mere centimeters from his.

“Mmm, more than anything.”

Xoliswa’s hand traveled down his body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. T’Challa’s lip found its way between his teeth again as he struggled to maintain composure, but it all flew out the window when he felt her hand wrap around his throbbing length.

“Fuck! Xo, stop playing and-”

“You need me?” she teased as she pulled his pants down over his hips and let them pool at his feet. She wrapped both of her hands around his girth and stroked him softly. He was so sensitive that he jerked away from her hand, but she grabbed him and pulled him back in. Xoliswa had dreamed of this day, so why not make her dream come true?

Suddenly, T’Challa’s self-control went out of the window as he thrust into her hands and wrapped one of his much larger hands around her throat. She stared back at him with lust clouding her eyes as he met her lips for a hungry kiss. The taste of her on his tongue drove him wild, and she felt his dick begin to twitch. She picked up her pace and gripped him a little tighter, making him stick his tongue further down her throat. She melted into him. The firm grip he had on her made her knees weak, and just as they began to buckle, he pulled his lips from hers and said the three magic words he had uttered so many times in her dreams.

“On your knees.”

Xoliswa fell to the ground and looked up at him with her mouth opened wide for him to use. And use it, he did. T’Challa was surprised she could take all of him without any training, but he guessed her husband might have been around his size.

Her husband. He had a married woman on her knees, slobbering up and down his shaft. He had Xoliswa on her knees…

Just the thought of how wrong this was turned him on even more, and as if the same thought had occurred to her, Xoliswa started sucking harder. The spit foaming in the corners of her mouth and running down her chin soaked her chest, and the king longed to see more. He reached down and ripped her shirt down the middle, freeing her breasts from the confines of modern clothing. T’Challa grinned when he saw that not only was she not wearing a bra, but her nipples stood erect like two Hershey’s kisses ready for him to devour. Just the way he liked.

Xoliswa didn’t care that he had ruined her shirt; all she cared about was making her king cum. She wanted to taste him and swallow everything he had to give, so she grew impatient and turned it up a notch, fondling his balls in her hands as she sucked on him. Her tongue swirled around his tip, and he gripped her locs in his fist to hold her down on him as he exploded into her mouth. Splashes of him coated her throat, and she swallowed every last drop he gifted to her. She blinked up at him with those innocent-looking eyes as she sucked him like a straw, milking him for all he’s worth. Normally, he would get overstimulated at this point, but that seemed impossible. Xoliswa gave him the best head he’s had in a long time, but it still wasn’t enough to sate him.

T’Challa pulled her head off him, and the bridge of spit that connected them was a sight to see. He reached down and lifted her to her feet, kissing her once more to taste his saltiness on her tongue.

“You still...want...this pussy?” Xoliswa asked between kisses.

“Mmmmhmmm,” he grunted as he pushed up on her again.

Xoliswa pushed him away, and he looked at her like she had betrayed him. His face relaxed when he noticed the feral look in her eyes and the way her pheromones filled the air.

“Take what you need.”

T’Challa saw red, and the next thing he knew, he was buried deep inside her as he pounded her into the mattress. The arch in her back deepened as he fucked her rougher than her husband could have ever dreamed of. Xoliswa struggled to see as she reached for the sheets to hold onto, but he wouldn’t let her. T’Challa pinned her hands behind her back and continued to plow into her as she screamed.

“Fuck, yes! Just like that, baby! Ooooh, T’Challa-”

“You like that?”

“Yes!”

“Then take it. Fucking take it!” he roared as he released inside her, but neither was ready to stop. Xoliswa loved how his cum felt dripping out of her, making her pussy even wetter than it already was. Keeping it juicy for him to do whatever he needed to do to her body.

“This tight fucking pussy, Xo,” he groaned as he slowed down and grinded into her, stirring her insides. His heavy hand came down on her ass, and she let out the most adorable squeak. He smiled and did it again and again, her pussy tightening around him with every strike until she couldn’t take it anymore. Xoliswa’s body convulsed as she came all over the king’s dick.

“T’Challaaaa!” she wailed, and he stopped to massage her cheeks.

“Too much?”

She looked back at him and smiled mischievously with a glint in her eye. “No, my king.”

“I’m your king?” he teased while rubbing her clit, making her hips circle on his dick as he stood still and let her work.

“Yessss,” she whined.

“Then cum for your king one more time. I have another load for you,” he whispered in her ear with his teeth firmly gripping the lobe. His fingers tickled the underside of her clit, and she bucked her hips. “That’s your spot, huh?”

“Y-yes, my king!”

He alternated between circling her clit and strumming the underside for barely a few moments before her pussy began to grip him again. T’Challa leaned back and watched the way her pussy spasmed on him. He couldn’t hold out and exploded inside her once more.

“Mmmm, baby, I love when you do that.”

“You love when I cum in this pussy?”

“Mmmhm,” her voice grew higher in pitch the more she felt him twitch inside her.

“Good, because I’m not done with you yet.”

T’Challa pulled out slowly, and she moaned as his bulbous head dragged across her g-spot. He flipped her over with ease and slid right back into her slippery canal. She loved how full he made her feel, how he stretched her walls and beat the breaks off her pussy. But this? This felt so good.

His hips moved slowly as he stroked deep into her and gazed into her eyes.

“I just need one more, babygirl. One more, and I think I’ll be good, ok?”

“Whatever you need, my king,” Xoliswa whispered against his lips and pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, and he chuckled darkly.

“You want me in there deep, don’t you?”

“As deep as you can go, baby.”

“You’re filthy. Does your husband know what a little slut you are?”

Xoliswa released all over him again.

“Oh, you like when I talk about him when I’m in these guts? You like being reminded of how naughty you are, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” Xoliswa nodded with tears threatening to fall from her eyes from how good it felt to have T’Challa inside her.

“Let me ask you something,” he leaned in close to her ear and thrust harder. “Does he fuck you like I do?”

Xoliswa frantically shook her head, “N-no!”

“Then you come to me whenever you need a taste of what a king can do for you.”

“Yes, baby!” she keened as he picked up the pace and dropped his weight on her.

“You know this pussy is mine, now, right? He can use it if you want him to, but this shit belongs to me. You’re fucking mine, Xoliswa.”

“T’Challa-”

“Mmmhm, say my name, babygirl. Tell them who owns this tight little pussy,” he punctuated those last three words with thrusts so deep she swore she could feel it in her ribs. “Who owns you?”

“T’Challaaaa!”

His eyes rolled back in his head at hearing his name fall from her lips. Her voice was shaky and hoarse, but she screamed his name over and over again as his hips pounded into hers, the curve of his dick angling just right to keep her creaming all over him.

“Fuck, baby, here it comes. You ready?”

Xoliswa looked him dead in the eye and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Cum in your pussy, Black Panther.”

He hadn’t expected her to call him that, but it lit something within him, and he came harder than he ever had before. He bit into her neck as he spasmed inside her, pumping her full of his essence. She came from the feeling of him releasing so much and putting it right where it belonged. Their bodies fed off each other, and when one would spasm, it would trigger the other to cum. T’Challa peppered sweet kisses all over Xoliswa’s face and spoke to her in hushed tones, “Thank you, babygirl.”

Xoliswa couldn’t speak; she could only moan incoherently. Minutes passed before their bodies began to tire of the constant state of arousal, and they slowly pulled apart. She whimpered as she felt their fluids escape her and drip slowly down her crack, and he could only watch in awe. He had never produced so much, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of Xoliswa or his heat or a combination of both. Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

“Call Abdul. Tell him you have to work tonight,” he rasped, making a devilish smile appear on her face. She knew she was in for the night of her life, and just the thought of what was to come had her playing with her overstimulated clit. He swatted her hand away and replaced it with his own. “Call him. Now. Make sure your camera is off.”

T’Challa kissed from her neck down to her chocolate nipples and took a bite, making her yip at the sensation. “Be quiet, or he’ll catch you. You don’t want that, do you?”

“N-no, my king,” she stuttered out as she pressed Abdul’s contact card and called him.

“What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be working? Or are you slacking off with T’Challa again,” he joked, and Xoliswa locked eyes with a smug T’Challa as his tongue swirled around her nipple.

“N-no, I’m at work,” she struggled to speak as T’Challa trailed his tongue down her body and suctioned his lips around her clit. She snapped her legs shut around his head, making him pry them open with a menacing growl.

“What was that?” Abdul asked.

“What was what?” Xoliswa chuckled nervously.

“I thought I heard something. Anyways, what’s up, sweetie?”

“I, uh-” she stopped herself and muted the call for a moment to let out a moan from the pits of her soul as T’Challa showed no mercy on her. His tongue masterfully maneuvered around her clit like he designed it himself, and the three slender fingers curling inside her coaxed another orgasm out of her.

“Take him off mute right fucking now,” T’Challa ordered with a mouth full of pussy.

“Hello? Xo?”

She scrambled to unmute the call and calm her breathing down as the king nibbled on her labia and sped his fingers up inside her.

“I’m here, baby. I-have-to-work-late-so-I’m-staying-at-the-palace-tonight!”

“Wait, slow down. I can barely understand you. Are you ok?”

“I’m ok,” she giggled as T’Challa nibbled on her inner thighs. “I’m staying here tonight.”

“Oh, no problem. Don’t let T’Challa work you too hard, ok?”

“I won’t!” she squeaked.

“Good. You get back to work, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Tell him you love him,” T’Challa whispered against her pussy lips, and Xoliswa couldn’t help but oblige.

“Abdul?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“I-I love you.”

“I love you too, Xo. Call me when you get off,” he blew her a kiss through the phone, and she hung up right as T’Challa started chuckling.

“You almost got us caught!” she fussed.

“You liked it. Don’t lie.”

Xoliswa bit her lip to hide her smile, but it didn’t work.

“Maybe a little.”

“Mmmhm. Nasty slut, letting me use you like this. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

Xoliswa’s pussy jumped, and T’Challa couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Maybe you should teach me a lesson,” Xoliswa moaned as she ground her hips on his fingers, and his dick hardened right back up. “Or punish me.”

“Fuck, Xo, where have you been all my life?” he groaned and pulled his fingers from her, lining the head of his dick up with her entrance.

“Married...to my husband,” Xoliswa teased. T’Challa’s nostrils flared, and she knew it was on.

She wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @nahimjustfeelingit-writes, @dersha89

#cecewritessometimes #oneshot #smut #t'challa fic #t'challa x oc #black!oc #Youtube

[tuiccim]

Terrigenisis (Part 10)

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes X Inhuman!Reader

Words: 1669

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: Fluff and SMUT (18+, NSFW)

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist       Divider by @firefly-graphics

As the months went by, the relationship between Steve, Bucky, and yourself became more and more solid. You talked about the future, made plans, and worked through the few issues that had arisen. There had been missions and you had become an integral part of the team. You were happy. You had a job you loved, two men you loved, a home, and a family in your team. It was idyllic. Which terrified you at times. When the fear began to overwhelm you, Bucky and Steve were there for you. They let you express your fears and helped you through them. 

You were gearing up for a mission to take out a large Hydra base that had been recently discovered. The intel on its existence was solid even though what was going on there was a mystery. Some information had been gleaned through surveillance but it was mostly pictures of  objects with an alien language. Thor and Loki were expected to arrive today to help and give some information on what these items could be. 

The team was awaiting their arrival in the conference room except Steve and Tony who were greeting them. You were going over mission details and making tactical plans with the available information.

“So, what are Thor and Loki like?” You ask the group in general. 

“Thor’s a good guy. Nice. A little terse at times. Intense.” Bruce replies.  

“What about Loki?” You look at Bruce. 

“He’s a bag of cats. He’s trying to be… different. Better, I guess. That’s why he’s coming. Thor is trusting him. I guess we’ll have to try, too.” Bruce shrugs as Natasha scoffs. 

“Be careful around Loki. There’s a reason he’s the god of mischief.” Natasha warns.

“Noted.” You say just as they walk in. You immediately smile when you catch Steve’s eye but turn your attention to the two Asgardians as they enter. Steve makes introductions as Tony pulls up the intel photos for the two gods. 

“This looks to be Kree.” Thor states. 

“It is.” Loki confirms as he swipes through the photos. 

“Kree?” You say bringing Thor’s attention to you.

“Yes. They-”

“Created Inhumans.” 

“Yes. You are familiar with the Inhumans?” Thor asks. 

“I am an Inhuman.” You watch the two for any reaction. 

“Ah, a fellow abomination.” Loki grins. “What are your powers?”

You stare Loki down for a moment. Interpreting no malice in his remarks, you reply, “Warging, understanding of all vocal communication, increased strength and stamina.”

“Interesting.” Loki narrows his eyes.

“Warging?” Thor asks and you give him a brief explanation. 

Going back to the available information, the team gleans all it can to formulate a plan. Afterwards, everyone moves to the common room to relax while Tony has a meal brought in. 

“Loki has been watching you the entire time we’ve been in here.” Natasha murmurs to you. 

“Novelty, I guess.” You shrug. 

“Maybe so. Are you okay?” 

“Just have a headache all of a sudden.” You say. 

“Want me to get you something?”

“No, I’ll-mmph! Ow. It feels like an icepick in my head.” You say. 

Natasha’s eyes widen and her head snaps up, “Loki, stop!”

You make eye contact with the god and feel another stab of pain. Realizing he is trying to get in your head, you push back at the feeling. 

“What are you doing, brother?” Thor grabs his arm. 

“I just wanted to see how far her capabilities went, brother. She began fighting me. Strong, this one.” Loki smirks. 

“Keep your mind games to yourself, Loki!” Steve growls. 

“No, it’s okay.” You say. “Try.”

“What?” Steve turns to you with a stern look. 

“I want to see if he can. I can’t know how far my abilities go if I don’t push them. Most of my powers have to do with my senses. I’m just curious.” You shrug.

“Doll, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Bucky warns. “It was obviously causing you pain.”

“It’s not a big deal. Will you try again, Loki?” You ask. 

“At your service, darling.” Loki grins and concentrates on you again. Your head aches almost immediately and the sharp stabbing pain returns but you fight back against it. Using the same thought process you use when warging you concentrate on Loki, pushing back against his mental invasion. The pain in your head increases the more you fight back but you aren’t willing to stop. You feel a surge from Loki and automatically push back at him with a mental force that suddenly turns your eyes green as the god’s and you realize you have entered his mind. Intense pain spikes through you bringing you to your knees as you grab the sides of your head. A scream tears from your throat before you black out. 

You wake in Bucky’s arms as he takes quick strides towards the elevator. 

“Bucky. I’m okay.” You say. 

“You passed out. You aren’t okay.” Bucky says firmly. 

“We’re just going to take you to get checked out, sweetheart.” Steve says from right beside you. 

“No, I’m fine. Put me down.” You squirm in Bucky’s arms. 

“Doll-” “Sweetheart-”

“Down! Now!” You all but shout. Bucky reluctantly lowers you to the floor and you stand, holding his shoulder for support. “Well, that was new.”

“What did Loki do to you?” Steve growls.

“I only did as she asked.” Loki defends himself. “She managed to fight my attempts. It was quite impressive. Not many can keep me out of their mind as she did. And then, she slipped into my mind. It probably overwhelmed her as she’s not used to such an exertion.”

“Agreed.” You say. “I’ve never been able to do that with a human before.”

“You were probably able to because I have to open my mind in order to reach out. That was admirable.” Loki says. 

“Uh, thanks?” You laugh lightly. 

“Did you see anything?” Loki asks with eyes narrowed.

“It was pretty jumbled.” You admit.

“That’s normal for a first timer. Come, let’s discuss our little experiment.” Loki wraps your hand around his arm and guides you away from your two supersoldiers who glare at Loki as the two of you sit on the loveseat. When dinner is ready, you sit at the table between Bucky and Steve. Loki is seated across from you with Thor next to him and the table is jovial as everyone enjoys the company and food. You notice that Loki retreats into himself during the meal. As soon as the meal is over, you approach Loki again to ask more questions about his abilities. Everyone drifts into the common room while you and Loki sit at one end of the table and talk. He has a great deal of knowledge regarding the Kree, Inhumans, and different abilities. You learn more in two hours than you had in the six months with your Inhuman team. 

“Hey Doll. We’re heading to the room.” Bucky approaches to say. 

“Okay, Love. I’ll be there shortly.” You smile up at him as he leans down to plant a quick kiss on your lips. 

Loki watches as Bucky leaves with a smirk, “So, you and Sergeant Bar-”

“Sweetheart, you coming to bed?” Steve interrupts. 

“Soon, Babe. Loki is giving me some history on the Kree.” 

Steve eyes Loki for a moment before leaning down to kiss you possessively “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.” You smile at him as he leaves. Turning back to Loki, it’s your turn to smirk, “Yes, Me and Bucky and Steve.”

“That was unexpected.” Loki raises an eyebrow. 

“I imagine not much surprises you.” You laugh.

“Very little.” Loki says. 

“You know, I was prepared to hate you but… you aren’t exactly what I was expecting.” 

“I was under the influence of other entities during the Battle of New York. It spoke to the basest part of me. I know I’ll never fully make up for it but I’m hopeful I can do some good to set it to rights.” 

“I’m sure you will. Do some good, that is. I should head to bed. Good night, Loki.”

“Good night.” Loki nods his head and joins his brother. 

You were impressed with him. Truthfully, you had planned on hating him. After all, he had killed Coulson but when you had slipped into his mind you had felt his remorse. You were honest when you told him that everything was jumbled. The memories and images that came through had been but his feelings had been loud and clear. Inferiority, remorse, contrition, fear, and hope had suffused you when your minds were joined. It had softened you towards him and you hoped that he could find some corner of redemption in all of this. 

When you get to the bedroom, you pause a minute to smile at Steve and Bucky cuddled up together in the bed. 

“Come join us, pretty girl.” Steve beckons. 

“What were you and Loki talking about that kept you so enthralled?” Bucky groused. 

“Careful, Buck. You almost sound jealous.” You laugh. “We were talking about the Kree and inhumans and different abilities. I learned a good bit from him. Loki offered to bring some information and writings when he comes again.”

“He doesn’t usually talk to any of us much when he’s around.” Steve says. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Usually all we get out of him is sly remarks.” Bucky says. 

“Huh. Probably a defense mechanism. He feels he has a lot to make up for and know no one really likes him.” You offer.

“How did you find that out?” Steve asks.

“When we did the Vulcan mindmeld. I could feel what he was feeling more than anything else. It told quite the story in and of itself.”

“Loki is a master manipulator.” Steve warns.

“I understand.” You reassure them. “And we leave for mission tomorrow for who knows how long. Is there anything you'd like to do before that happens?”

“Yeah.” “Definitely.” They speak at the same time. 

“What would that be?” You ask. 

“You.” They say in unison.

Part 11

Tuiccim’s Masterlist

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Terrigenisis: @dark-night-sky-99​ @amiets2​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms @tite-rose @teenwolfgirl90 @jennmurawski13 @captain-asguard​ @the-soulofdevil​ @redbarn1995

Updates and taglist: My taglist is currently closed. Updates for series will be made on Thursdays and Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​ for update notifications. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

#Stucky #Stucky x you #Stucky x reader #Stucky series #Stucky fanfic #Stucky fanfiction #steve x bucky x reader #steve x bucky x you #Bucky #Steve #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Captain America #The Winter Solider #marvel #avengers

[filthy-vigilantes]

Batman: Where to start

***long post***

Getting in to comics is rather hard and finding a good starting place or a good recommended must-reads is hard and confusing and you typically get hundreds of different answers.

This is my personal list, that I'm working through and hope to collect. I've done quite a bit of research and feel like this is a adequate reading list for modern (post-crisis) Bruce Wayne

Anyways here's the list in primary chronological order:

Batman: Year One (Batman Vol 1 #404-#407)

This story line established the back story for Batman in the post-crisis timeline, along with the back stories for Commissioner Gordon and Selina Kyle. Not necessarily canon anymore, but a good story to get the feel of the characters

Batman: The Man Who Laughs

This is a one shot that was published in 2005 that tells the story of Batman's first encounter with the Joker roughly a year after the Batman's debut in Gotham. Based on the Joker's original first appearance in Batman Vol 1 #1.

Batman and the Monster Men

This is a 6 part mini series that takes place sometime after Batman: Year One and Batman: The Man Who Laughs. First half of the Dark Moon Rising series. Story revolves around Batman's first dealing with Hugo Strange

Batman and the Mad Monk

This is another 6 part mini series that is the second half of the Dark Moon Rising series. It is a retelling of a story from Detective Comics Vol 1 #31-32

Batman: The Long Halloween

This is a 13 part limited series, that serves as a re-introduction of the Calendar Man and features a wide array of Batman's rouge gallery such as Two-Face, Scarecrow, Riddler, Joker, and Poison Ivy.

Batman: Dark Victory

This is a 14 part limited series that is a sequel to The Long Halloween. The main case in the story is a turf war between Two-Face and the Falcon Mafia. It also serves as a re-telling of Dick Grayson's Robin origin.

Batman: Birth of the Demon (TPB)

This is a collection of 3 Batman one shots: Son of the Demon, Bride of the Demon, and Birth of the Demon. All stories center around Ra's al Ghul and Talia al Ghul.

Batman: Strange Apparitions (Detective Comics Vol 1 #469-479)

This collection reintroduces Golden Age villains such as Hugo Strange and Dead shot along with introducing new villains such as Doctor Phosphorus and Clayface III.

Batman: The Killing Joke

A 60 page one shot that hints at the Jokers true identity, along with pushing the Jokers madness to new extremes, and showing just how dangerous he can be.

Batman: the Cult

This is a 4 issue mini series, in which Batman gets captured, torture and brain washed by Deacon Blackfire. This is also one of the few stories written by Jim Starlin that shows Jason Todd in a favorable light, as Starlin had a dislike for the character and kid sidekicks.

Batman: Death in the Family (Batman Vol 1 #426-429)

The famous 4 issue story arc that allowed readers to vote on the fate of the then current Robin, Jason Todd.

Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying (Batman Vol 1 #440-442)

This story is the introduction of Tim Drake and his taking of the Robin Mantle. The story also involves a case with Two-Face

Batman: The Last Arkham (Batman: Shadow of the Bat #1-4)

This story shows us the inner workings of Arkham Asylum, along with introducing new villains such as Zsasz, Jeremiah Arkham, and Amygdala

Batman: Gothic (Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #6-10)

In this story we get to see glimpses of Bruce Wayne childhood.

Batman: Venom (Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #16-20)

This story introduces us to the strength-enhancing drug, venom

Batman: Knightfall (Batman Vol 1 #492-510, #512-515; Batman: Shadow of the Bat #16-30, 32-35; Catwoman Vol ? #6-7, #12-13; Detective Comics Vol 1 #659-677, #679-682; Justice League Task Force #5-6; Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #59-63; Robin #7-9, 11-14; Showcase '93 #7-8; Showcase '94 #10)

The Knightfall collection is a trilogy consisting of Knightfall, Knightquest, and KnightsEnd. In the story, Batman is crippled by Bane leading to him enlisting help from Jean-Paul Valley, while he recovers. Jean-Paul becomes increasingly unstable and violent, ruining Batman's reputation until Bruce can finally put an end to it. The story had long term ramifications in the batcannon as Bruce had to rebuild the trust everyone had for him.

Batman: Contagion (Batman: Shadow of the Bat #48-49; Detective Comics Vol 1 #695, #696; Robin Vol 4 #27-28; Catwoman Vol #31-32; Azrael #15-16; Batman Vol 1 #529; Batman: Chronicles #4)

A cross over even where a deadly virus sweeps through Gotham. One of the story lines leading in to the No Man's Land event.

Batman: Legacy (Batman Vol 1 #533-534; Batman: Bane; Bane of the Demon #1-4; Batman: Shadow of the Bat #53-54; Catwoman Vol 2 #33-36; Detective Comics Vol 1 #700-702; Robin Vol 4 #32-33)

Another crossover, this storyline serves as a wrap up for Contagion as well as Knightfall. One of the story lines leading in to No Man's Land event.

Batman: Cataclysm (Azrael #40; Batman Vol 1 #553-559; The Batman Chronicles #12, #14; Batman: Arkham Asylum- Tales of Madness #1; Batman:Blackgate- Isle of Men #1; Batman/Huntress/Spoiler: Blunt Trauma #1; Batman: Shadow of the Bat #73-79; Catwoman Vol 2 #56-57; Detective Comics Vol 1 #719-722, #724-726; Robin Vol 4 #52-54)

The final crossover storyline leading in to No Man's Land. After a earthquake, Gotham's heros have to band together to help the citizens in the aftermath.

Batman: No Man's Land (Azrael #47-61; Batman Vol 1 #560-574; Batman: Harley Quinn; Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #116-126; Batman: No Man's Land #1-0; Batman No Man's Land Secret Files and Origins; Batman: Day of Judgement; Batman: Shadow of the Bat #80-94; The Batman Chronicles #16-18; Catwoman Vol 2 #72-77; Detective Comics Vol 1 #727-741; JLA #32; Nightwing Vol 1 #35-39; Nightwing Secret Files and Origins; Robin Vol 4 #67-73; Young Justice: In No Man's Land)

After several catastrophic events in Gotham, the US government decides to cut off Gotham, destroying all bridges to the city leaving Batman and allies to keep order in the city.

JLA Tower of Babel (JLA #43-46)

This story deals with the discovery of Batman's plans and files on how to take out the members of the Justice League in the event of them going rouge.

Bruce Wayne: Murderer? (Batman: The 10-Cent Adventure #1; Batgirl #24; Batman Vol 1 #599; Batman: Gotham Knights #25-26; Birds of Prey Vol 1 #39-40; Detective Comics Vol 1 #766-767; Nightwing #65-66; Robin #98-99

Bruce Wayne is arrested for murder and the rest of the bat family are forced to solve the crime and help clear his name.

Bruce Wayne: Fugitive (Azrael #91; Batgirl #27, #29-33; Batman Vol 1 #600-601, #603, #605-607; Batman: Gotham Knights #27-28, #30-31; Birds of Prey #41-43; Nightwing #68-69; Detective Comics Vol 1 #768-775)

This story is the follow up to Bruce Wayne: Murderer. After getting out of jail, he must full solve to murder, as those around him begin to doubt his innocence.

Batman Hush (Batman Vol 1 #608-619)

This story arc share a bit about Bruce Wayne's childhood along with introducing a new billion, Hush and furthering Batman and Catwoman's romantic relationship. This story also teases the resurrection of Jason Todd, the second Robin.

Batman: Heart of Hush (Detective Comics #846-850)

A follow up to Batman Hush, once again furthering Batman and Catwoman's romantic relationship. Also serves as a prelude to Batman R. I. P.

Batman Under the Red Hood (Batman Vol 1 #635-#641, #645-650, Annual #25)

This Story focuses on Jason Todd, the second Robin's resurrection and return to Gotham

Batman R. I. P. (Batman Vol 1 #667-669, #672-686, #701-702; Detective Comics #846-853; Nightwing Vol 2 #147-153; Batman and the Outsiders Vol 1 #11-14, special #1; Robin #175-183)

This story leads up to Bruce Wayne's apparent death in the DC Final Crisis event.

What Ever Happened to the Caped Crusader? (Batman Vol 1 #686; Detective Comics Vol 1 #853

These two issues deal with the aftermath of Bruce Wayne's apparent death.

Battle for the Cowl

This is a 3 issue minis series that shows the remainder of the bat family hold Gotham together in the wake of Batman's death and Nightwing ultimate decision to take up the mantle.

Batman: Hush Money (Detective Comics Vol 1 #852; Batman Vol 1 #685; Batman: Streets of Gotham #1-4)

Batman's enemy Hush alters his face to look like Bruce Wayne and begins pretending to be him.

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne

A 6 issue limited series that shows Bruce Wayne's journey through time to return to present day Gotham.

Bruce Wayne: The Road Home

A limited series that details the return and aftermath of Bruce Wayne's return. Batman Vol 1 #703 is a prelude to the series.

Batman: House of Hush (Batman: Streets of Gotham #14, #16-21)

A story arc that ties up the Hush Money story and the return of Bruce Wayne.

Batman Incorporated

This series focuses on Bruce Wayne franchising the Batman name across the globe, while Dick Grayson still serves as Batman in Gotham.

Batman: The Gates of Gotham

A limited series that features Dick Grayson as Batman, but was used as a lunching point for major Batman story lines in New 52.

Batman New 52

After the New 52 reboot, DC began Batman Vol 2, aka Batman New 52

Batman Eternal

A weekly limited series that ran for a year, reintroducing numerous villains in to the New 52 canon, along with Stephanie Brown.

Batman and Robin Eternal

A weekly limited series that ran for 6 months as a follow up to Batman Eternal. The story jumps between Dick Grayson's first year as Robin and the present. Cassandra Cain is reintroduced in to the New 52 canon in this series.

Batman Rebirth (ongoing)

Current Batman title

#batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #red hood #robin #tim drake #dick grayson #dc comcis #bat family #batfam #bat fam #comics #selina kyle #catwoman #batgirl #barbra gordon #stephenie brown #cassandra cain #where to start

[manyfictionsmusings]

Pull Me Like A Ripcord

Summary:

This story takes place immediately after the events of X-Men Apocalypse, where Peter decides against going back to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, despite seeking his father’s attention prior. This fic will just be growing and “mutating” as I write but promising lots of Dad/son angst, hurt/comfort etc.

Chapter 1: AfterEffects

As naïve as it was, Peter had hoped Erik would somehow realize he was his son, now that idea seemed cold and stupid. Why would Erik magically know who he was? He wasn’t Charles, a mind reader, and this wasn’t a fantasy kingdom where the orphan got his father in the end of the story.

Peter pulled his legs up to his chest, or at least he would have if he could have moved his shattered knee, the pain, coupled with the emotional turmoil of the long day sent him easily to tears. He wasn’t used to losing, he wasn’t used to being physically injured. The finale of the Egyptian battle had seen the x-men triumph, but Peter himself had lost…lost another chance to connect with Erik, if only he’d been able to get the better of the Immortal it might have impressed his father enough to take note of him, but instead if it hadn’t been for Raven’s distractions, the Beast’s strength and his own father’s shift in loyalties, he would have been just another victim in the note book of Apocalypse.

Peter drew a shaky breath, trying to force the events to wash over him, normally things didn’t bother him, but the last few months he’d changed, the others here at the school, or what was left of the school…he didn’t want to call them family but that’s what they felt like to him. It scared him and it was too much to hope for, he’d been disappointed to many times to open up like that. Which was why he’d told Beast to take him to a regular hospital in Cairo and he’d make his own way home once he was healed.

Beast had had his reservations about it, leaving the scrawny, pale kid who’d been with them since he’d saved literally everyone at Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters seemed a shitty way to repay him, but he’d finally consented to it, only after Peter had gotten angry and started yelling.

He felt lonely now, in the hospital bed, with an oxygen tube in his nose and his injured leg casted and hoisted by a sling, a thousand miles from anyone he knew, but the pain was reminding him of his failures as one of the x-men and the isolation served to remind him why he didn’t bother with people, especially his father.

They always left. Or were never there to begin with.

He deserved this.

“You don’t deserve any of this, Peter.”

Peter jolted, startled for only a second by the gentle voice, there was only one person it could be, to know what precisely he was thinking. He hurriedly wiped tears off his face before Charles came any closer.

“I told Beast I was fine. I don’t want anyone wasting any more time on me.”

“Beast didn’t tell your secret, but I was worried about you, Peter. You think I was going to just leave Egypt without you? I wouldn’t leave here without any of you.” Charles stepped closer, softly he took his hand and squeezed gently.  “You all mean so much to me. I owe you my life, Peter.”

He removed his hand and crossed his arms. “I didn’t do anything, if…if Erik hadn’t stepped in, we all would have been killed-including you.”

Charles glanced towards the monitors attached to the young man, before his eyes roamed across the physical state of Peter, in contemplation. “It was a group effort; it took all of us.” He finally spoke after a moment of hesitation. “I know you seek his attention and yet you’re afraid of it…Lehnsherr is coming back with us to New York, he’s going to help me rebuild the institution.”

Peter glanced up, his eyes reflecting a youthful hope the professor hadn’t seen for some time. “I thought he left.”

Charles shook his head. “It’s a way to…perhaps earn his attention, little by little anyway. What do you think? Will you return with me?”

Peter grimaced. “I’m not in great shape professor, encase you haven’t noticed. I might swing in when I’m up and around.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “I know all your pains, I’m sorry. I put your life in such horrific danger-”

“I came along on the mission of my own free will, no one forced me,” Peter interrupted.

Charles gripped his shoulder suddenly with an assertive intention. “Let me oversee your recovery, Maximoff, please, it’s the least I can do. I won’t leave here until you agree to be transferred to a hospital in New York, preferably close to Salem Center. You don’t have to be bothered by anyone from the school. But knowing you aren’t in Egypt would put my mind at ease.”

Peter sighed, he was feeling it again, the warm sensation that made him relaxed and somehow extremely uncomfortable at the same time. Family was something he would never be able to hold on to. He was going to mess it up, he knew that. He could already feel the threads slipping between pale, desperate, grasping fingers. But in the meantime, Charles cared about him enough to hunt him down in one of many Cairo hospitals, and he’d checked in under an alias. The professor cared enough to come back, or had he never left in the first place? His caring nature was beyond consolation to Peter’s broken, cold body, so comforting in fact he felt tears welling up again!

He sniffled and hurriedly wiped his brow before their return, nodding. “I’ll come with you.”

Professor Xavier had kept his word, medically and financially he’d arranged for everything to be taken care of, transporting Peter from Cairo to New York. He’d also arranged for him to have his own private room in Sheeran Hospital—a private hospital in upstate New York, forty-five miles from the current disaster of Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters.

Over the next two weeks physically Peter’s injuries slowly healed but mentally he felt wrecked beyond compare. He started having reoccurring nightmares that he couldn’t run; his ability had been fractured when the monstrosity had snapped his leg like a twig under his boot. In the dream he was trying to run away from someone, his first thought was that it was Apocalypse but a couple nights later he realized it was just a shadowy figure, one he could never outrun. Each time he fell, immobilized as pain shot through his leg, the sound of his own bones crunching reverberated in his ears, just as it had that day.

The nurses had unfortunately taken note of his mood, though Peter hadn’t put much effort into hiding his grim attitude, he’d slipped in a snarky remark about getting some extra drugs for an overdose. The nurse didn’t find his dark humor amusing and Charles suspiciously showed up the very next day.

He didn’t say much at first, just sat near Peter’s bed, looking out the enormous rectangle window that looked west, on a glowing sunset. “You have a good view though,” he finally spoke.

Peter pursed his lips. “I do appreciate your hospitality Professor, but I’m fine, you don’t have to check in on me. Just... really bored here you know, I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in one place this long…it’s wearing on me, I feel weird being at this speed.”

Charles turned his chair to face him, hands in his pockets, yet concern on his features. “Must be very uncomfortable to be forced to slow down. How’s physical therapy going?”

Peter avoided the older man’s gaze for some reason and snorted. “I mean it’s slow, I’m not the patience type or a patient for that matter…”

Charles nodded. “But the sooner you’re hobbling around, the sooner I can get you out of here.”

“And take me where?” Maximoff snipped with his signature deep-set frown.

Charles chuckled, “You’d be surprised what several telekinetic mutants can accomplish when it comes to construction. The east wing is already rebuilt, for now we’re using it for sleeping quarters. It’s a little crowded but…”

“…Anything is better than the smell of hospital?” Peter finished, trying to keep his mind in constant motion—moving from thought to thought. He didn’t know how much the professor knew about what he was thinking but Xavier had already noted his inward conception about seeking Erik’s attention in Egypt, so his guess was he was an open book, but Peter’s thoughts could be about as fast as his movement when we wanted them to be. “Well sounds like I need to hit therapy harder, if you’re actually going to get me out of here.”

As much as Peter didn’t intend to be shambling around a cramped wing in the school, Charles’ visit served to kick him in the butt about getting out of Sheeran soon, regardless of where he went afterward. And if he was being honest, he had never planned to go back to the school, though he also wasn’t ready to face his reasoning for not returning there.

No one was going to miss him, well not the one person that mattered, because he couldn’t even see Peter for who he was. A new plan had quickly formulated—get his leg in good enough shape to slip off before Charles came back for him and circumvent the entire situation altogether.

The nightmares continued to plague him, as day after day he added a little weight to the tender broken leg, between tears and a lump that had formed on his lip from how many times he had bit it to deal with the pain, he started making it all the way through the routes the therapist had set up for him. Once he realized he could make it to the end of the routine he had to mentally stop himself from trying out his true speed. He continually checked himself, forced himself to be normal, move slowly. He embraced the pain wholly, promising himself a whole box of Lemonheads when he got out of here.

A week and two days after Charles’ visit, Peter decided he was going. He’d woke up from his worst nightmare by far, clutching his throat, covered in sweat, his heart was beating hard enough his chest ached. His leg was throbbing with shadow pain from Apocalypse breaking it, only in this dream he hadn’t been saved before the giant mutant had slit his throat and tossed him aside like trash. His father hadn’t even noticed or cared.

Peter swallowed painfully, still tracing his fingers across the smooth, blanched flesh of his neck as he slipped out of bed. His x-men costume had been lost somewhere in the shuffle, or maybe the professor had taken it, either way Charles had been kind enough to replace it with his current pajamas and a change of clothing. Not the usual silver tinted clothing but considering he still wasn’t up to his Quicksilver speed, it seemed fitting to pull on the dark blue jeans and faded orange hoodie. Peter sighed in comfort at the velvety worn state of both items as they contacted his skin, though he tried to ignore how billowy the clothes were on him, he’d lost a significant amount of weight since Egypt—which the nurses had been lecturing him over—but what could you expect when there was only hospital food and no snacks to be seen.

Next Peter attempted to calm his silvery hair, by brushing his fingers through it repeatedly, which only seemed to make it worse. Between the wild shock of hair and the dark rimmed eyes, his reflection looked ghostly, coupled with the dim hospital lighting.

Peter exhaled calmly before grabbing the only items that had made it back with him from Egypt, his googles and his earphones, he stuck one of the foreign crutches under each armpit and silently slipped out of Sheeran Hospital…

#Peter Maximoff #maximoff #pietro maximoff #fanfiction #evan peters #quicksilver #fanfics #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #angst #hurt #comfort #hurt/comfort #x men universe #x men fanfiction #x men quicksilver #x men #x men apocalypse #magneto #dadneto #dadneato #silver #speedster #mutant #mutants #xmen #beast #erik lehnsherr #daddy issues #snacks

[pastelsandpining]

we’ll meet again

a rewriting to the ending of Ocarina of Time

words: 2347

warnings: angst. a lot of angst. read with caution

Masterlist

When the mangled body of the hog-like monster finally grows still, the sacred sword still hilt-deep in the crumpled corpse, Link knows then that it’s over. The years of sorrow, the loneliness of travel, everything that came with the heavy weight of pulling the world from the clutches of evil, is over. He withdraws the sword, but it takes an effort he didn’t think he had left. It’s heavier--or maybe it’s his limbs that are heavy, too exhausted to carry on any further. Adrenaline is a thing of the past and he takes two steps forward before his foot catches on a bit of loose debris. The Master Sword, his tool of time and of protection, slips to the soiled ground with a clang, and he’s following it. Part of him, the part too used to victories never meaning an end, expected the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

The only thing that wraps around him, catching him from hitting the rocky ground still levitating above the chasm of chaos, is a sea of gentle pink and purple tones. The touch is feather soft and strong enough to ground him all at once, and no longer is the world spinning, or burning in a sea of despair. It’s a comfort he hasn’t known since Saria—over seven years ago, but it feels like so much longer that he’s been craving it.

“Princess,” he greets in a hoarse, broken whisper. It’s swallowed by the fabric of her dress.

“Oh, Link,” she says, and it’s enough to make him lean his head against her chest. When her face finds his shoulder and he feels the warmth of her exhale on his neck, he chokes out a sob and digs his filthy, glove-covered fingers into the satin of the dress covering her back. He isn’t worthy of her touch or her comfort, but he’s too brokenly grateful to let her go.

Seven years of nothing and a mere two of shadow, of death and destruction and desolation, comes to an end, a result of nothing more than a man given too much power to handle, and Link does not feel the relief or the lifted weight that one would expect. All he feels is the suffocating fear that the body would move again, or that the crystal would encase her, and he would find himself stuck in a never ending cycle of heroic trauma.

But the arms of the princess are steady and she whispers another phrase, two of the simplest words that bear a heavy importance: “Thank you.”

He wonders what bit of her magic is responsible for how she still smells so good after running down several swirling cliffs and through burning, stuffy rooms. A vague realization hit him that he must smell awful, but he supposes it doesn’t matter when the world has been ending for the past nine years. His fingers are stiff when he tries to move them. He doesn't realize just how tightly he’s been holding onto her, or how hard they’re both shaking. He flattens his hands against her back, inhales her scent, loosens his arms, and relaxes his shoulders. His leg still stings from where Ganon’s blade had caught him, but it’s dull and doesn’t matter right now.

When he finds the strength to lift his head, everything around him is blue.

It’s a stark contrast to the dark skies that plagued Hyrule for months. It’s so different from the moody interior of blackstone walls and towering mirrors with grotesque mosaics of thirst and power. It’s too bright for his eyes, even if all he wants to look at is her. They’re still kneeling on the ground, except there’s nothing visible beneath them. Blue skies and cotton clouds stretch as far as he can see. The Master Sword is still there, telling him whatever’s holding them up is solid enough, and he reaches blindly for it when he finally retracts his arms. He drives the tip into the transparent (or maybe, reflective) ground and hauls himself up with a wince. It takes a minute for the spinning to stop. When he’s steady again, he extends a hand to her.

She takes it, gentle and promising, and Link helps Princess Zelda to her feet.

“Where…” he tries to ask, but her eyes soften and he no longer has a voice.

“Nowhere,” she replies. He feels her hold on his hand tighten. “We’re in a moment between time, a space away from Hyrule. I figured you, of all people, deserve an explanation.”

For all of his senseless meddling with time, he understood none of what she’d said. Thinking about it gave him a headache, so he didn’t. But why would he need an explanation?

“There’s no explanation worth saying,” he says, shaking his head.

“People go to great lengths when they have been wronged. You are one of them. I was so young, too naive to know what would happen. It was my plan that put you through so much and for that, I’m sorry.”

She looks so sad. It claws into his heart and tries to pull it out. Link shakes his head again, more desperately, and covers her hand with his.

“It’s an honor to help you, Princess,” he argues, as if he could make her forgive herself through the sheer force of will. “I would do it again and again.”

“Because you are kind and courageous. It’s in your blood, to be a hero.”

To be her hero, which was something he couldn’t say aloud.

“I feel empty,” he admits into the stretch of silence. “What happens now that it’s over?”

Because stories are not real. Stories that end with a suddenly happy life, like there was never any threat at all, never sit right with him. What’s a hero’s purpose once the villain is defeated? Princess Zelda, in all of her wisdom and power, is the only person who could answer that.

“What do you want to happen?” she asks.

Link frowns. If he’s honest, he’s never expected an ending. Logically, he knows he couldn’t go on forever. Either he would succeed or he would die trying, but it lasted for so long that the idea of a life after the war was nothing more than a fantasy. Now, with the prospect in front of him and just out of reach, he doesn’t know what he wants. He thinks of the forest, of Saria and of his friends, and knows that having it back is not an option. Even if it was, he knows it wouldn’t be the same.

He thinks about the contrast between the past and the present. He thinks about the lively people and colors and animals that once filled Castle Town to the brim, and the ghost town inhabited only by reanimated corpses that it’d become. He thinks of the civilizations he’s met—the Gorons, the Zora, and how devastated they were destined to be. He thinks of the woman in front of him, the princess with which this all started, and believes that she does not deserve to bear the burden of destruction alone.

He also doesn’t think he’s been asked that before. It’s always been, you must do this, and so he doesn’t know what it is that he wants.

“Is peace an option?” he asks, because he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to quiet the chaos in his head.

“That’s a complicated question,” Princess Zelda replies. Her hands slip from his and he aches with the urge to take them again. “Can you have peace without conflict? Are they really so easy to seperate? Hyrule was peaceful because a civil war brought about chaos. This moment in time is peaceful because you’ve laid to rest a terrible evil. I wish I could grant you what you seek.”

He wants to shrug, brush off her words like there was nothing profound or truthful behind them, but for all his courage, not even he could disrespect the princess. She does not deserve that. Instead, he asks,

“What do you want, Princess?”

Her reply comes fast, with a small and pained smile, “I’m afraid what I want isn’t something you can give me, Hero.”

He doesn’t like that title, Hero. Why can’t he be Link, nothing more, nothing less? For the same reason she can’t simply be Zelda, he supposes, and leaves it there with a frown.

“Is it that bad?” he asks. She shakes her head.

“I want, more than anything, for my people to be spared the suffering that Ganondorf-- that I have put them through. I want to undo my mistake, take back my meddling in something I was too young to understand. I want to restore everything that was, before the world ended.”

It’s a bold desire. Link understands where she’s coming from, because it was easier before the world ended. Back when his only struggle was wondering why he didn’t have a fairy like the rest of the Kokiri children. With all the power that Princess Zelda had, surely it was not impossible.

“You could go back to before,” he suggests, gripping the sword a little tighter.

“I could,” she agrees, “but I would leave so much behind.”

Link furrows his brows and takes a look at their surroundings. What would she be leaving behind? Did she not lose her entire kingdom? There must’ve been something he was missing, something he couldn’t see.

“I don’t understand,” he admits at last, turning his gaze to the Master Sword. “What’s left to lose?”

When he looks back up, Princess Zelda’s eyes are wet. He frowns again, wishing there was any sort of comfort he could offer her.

“I would lose you,” she says, and he feels his heart stop in his chest, “and the friendship we’ve built, and the lessons I’ve learned. Neither are worth giving up. It’s a difficult decision I don’t know how to make.”

Link doesn’t know what to say, so he extends a hand to her in a gesture he can only hope will provide some sort of comfort. When she takes it, he averts his eyes and busies himself looking around at what he could see of the ruined kingdom. He can’t pretend to know how she feels. Right now, he has nothing but her to keep him going. He’s outgrown his friends, his purpose has been fulfilled, what more is there for him to do? He could support Princess Zelda in whatever decision she makes, but even so, what could he do for her, really? Perhaps if there was any remnant of the kingdom that wasn’t fractured, they could rebuild, but at what cost? The expense of exhaustion and of the resources they didn’t have was too great. He knows nothing about governing, or anything else he might be required to do if he stayed with her--and gods, did he want to stay.

For her, he doesn’t think it’s much of a sacrifice at all. A kingdom of thousands of people is worth more than one lowly man. He does not know how to read. It was a silly thing, to be as old as him and not know how to do one of the simplest things. Navi’s done it for him for as long as she’s been around, and he doesn’t think someone who can’t read or write would make for a good companion in a time of need. He can be taught, but the time it would take simply wasn’t worth it.

He brings her gloved hand to his mouth, offers a kiss to her knuckles, and before he knows it, he’s pressing the Ocarina of Time into her hands.

“Your kingdom,” he says, “it needs you.”

“Link,” and she shakes her head and sounds broken but he presses further.

“You’re brilliant and just, and you deserve your fair reign over your people. Please, Princess, you deserve something for yourself.”

“Is a lifelong companion not good enough?” she asks. He feels her grip on the instrument tighten beneath his fingers.

“No. You have the chance to undo it all. Why settle with the cards you’ve been given?”

“I..”

She doesn’t look sure. Link has to admit that the idea is scary. Resetting the timeline was… difficult. It would undo everything he’s done up until now, reducing it to nothing more than a few years of bad dreams, and that idea made him feel sick. The possibility of never knowing her scared him more.

“We can get back what we lost,” he tries to convince her anyway. “You didn’t get to be a child.”

“Neither did you,” she argues, stepping closer. “Why should I get what you never had?”

“Then make it so we both get it.”

Her blue eyes narrow as she looks up at him. He doesn’t back down. The silence is pregnant and her gaze is intense, but he knows what he wants and it’s for her to get the chance she deserves. Backing down is not an option, no matter how much he wants to tell her that she can have whatever she wants from him.

“Link,” she says at last, freeing her hands so she could hold the ocarina to her chest. He thinks she wants to say something else, but she settles for, “Are you sure?” and he nods quickly, despite the tears he can feel stinging in his eyes.

“Go home,” he insists, lifting a hand to gently hold her face, “and I promise I’ll come find you.”

She smiles up at him, mumbling something about keeping the promise, and all he can do is smile back. When she lifts the ocarina to her mouth, Link decides simply to watch her until the arms of time take him back, away from her again but not for long.

When he comes to, in the Temple of Time, with the sword in the pedestal and his hands too small to hold it properly, that’s when Navi takes her leave. Link, renewed with the vigor of youth, turns around and runs towards the castle, as fast as his little legs can carry him.

#zelink #oot zelink #ocarina of time #ocarina of time zelink #my writing

[bloody-bee-tea]

JC Love Month 2020 Day 12

Ego and Inflexibility

Day 12 of JC Love Month brings some more Lan Qiren feelings, who is most definitely fed up with JFM's shitty parenting and he is so over it that he forgets all of his manners. It's exactly what Jiang Cheng deserves.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure what they are waiting for—in front of Lan Qiren’s personal quarters no less—but Jin Ling is inside and so Jiang Cheng waits, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji right by his side.

“Do you know what this is about?” Wei Wuxian asks him suddenly, clearly fed up with waiting already. “A-Yuan is inside, too, but he wouldn’t say what’s going on.”

“Same with Jin Ling,” Jiang Cheng says with a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He would accuse the juniors of shenanigans, but Lan Qiren is involved, so clearly it cannot be that bad. He would have told them to stop otherwise, Jiang Cheng is sure of that.

Lan Wangji doesn’t actually contribute anything to the conversation but Jiang Cheng gets the distinct impression that he’s not liking this, either, but then the door opens and the juniors and Lan Qiren step out.

“What is going on here?” Jiang Cheng asks and keeps his gaze on Jin Ling, because he’s bound to break first under his glare.

“I told them not to do it,” is the first thing Jin Ling says, and he does seem strangely guilty, but then Lan Sizhui speaks up and Jiang Cheng turns his attention to him.

“So, here’s the thing,” Lan Sizhui starts, clearly nervous and when he can’t seem to find his words, it’s Lan Jingyi who speaks up.

“We brought back your dad for you,” he says and when Ouyang Zizhen elbows him in the side he let’s out a pained noise.

“We brought Jiang Fengmian back for you,” Ouyang Zizhen clarifies and Jiang Cheng’s mood plummets faster than it has in years.

“Why the hell would you do that?” he demands to know and Lan Jingyi waves his hands at him.

“We didn’t actually bring him back,” he tries to reassure them. “We just called his spirit here and gave it a more solid form, so you can talk to him for the day. Uncle Qiren made sure we did all of it correctly.”

“Uncle,” Lan Wangji chastises him, way too mildly if anyone were to ask Jiang Cheng, but Lan Qiren only strokes his beard.

“There’s some catharsis to be found in this, I am certain,” he says and Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath.

He doubts catharsis is the thing they will find here, but it seems like no one cares about his opinion.

“Uncle Fengmian is back?” Wei Wuxian says and he sounds doubtful, but Jiang Cheng knows him well enough to hear the hope in his voice.

“For the day,” Lan Sizhui says. “You always talk so fondly of him, and we thought it would be good for you to talk to him again. And Sect Leader Jiang, he’s your father, we thought you’d like to speak to him, too.”

“I told them they were being stupid,” Jin Ling grumbles and Jiang Cheng has to bite back a small smile.

“We already caught him up on all major events, so you can jump straight in,” Lan Jingyi says excitedly and now Jiang Cheng is glad that Lan Qiren was there all along, because at least like this Jiang Fengmian got the right version of events.

“Fine, let’s do this, it’s not like we’re getting out of this,” Jiang Cheng says with a sigh and starts to walk up to the room, when Wei Wuxian stops him.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” he lowly asks, and even though they are still mending their relationship, it’s nice to see that they still understand each other like this.

“No,” Jiang Cheng answers honestly but with a shrug. “But there’s nothing to be done about it now, is there? I’m not actually so unfilial as to leave a ghost hanging,” he says and it startles a laugh out of Wei Wuxian just like he hoped.

“Alright, let’s go,” Wei Wuxian suddenly cheerfully says, and leads the way into the room.

Jiang Cheng is surprised to notice how much he forgot about his father in the past twenty years and it’s like a punch to the gut to see him again, unchanged and untouched by time.

Well, being dead will do that to you, Jiang Cheng guesses.

“Uncle Fengmian,” Wei Wuxian yells once inside the room and Jiang Fengmian looks Wei Wuxian up and down with a smile.

“You really do have a new body,” he says, as if Lan Qiren would lie to him about that. “But you’re still unmistakably my A-Ying,” he then adds and Jiang Cheng chooses that moment to step into his sight as well.

“Jiang Cheng,” his father says, looking him up and down much more critical than he had Wei Wuxian. “The spitting image of your mother I see.”

“Thankfully,” Jiang Cheng bites out and sits down, ready to get this over with as soon as possible.

There’s a very small part of him that hopes that he interpreted his father’s actions and words in his childhood wrong, but with how this started, Jiang Cheng knows it’s a foolish hope.

His father is exactly like he remembered him.

“Why are you not wearing purple, A-Ying?” Jiang Fengmian asks Wei Wuxian who throws a love sick look at Lan Wangji.

“Because I’m no longer a disciple of Yunmeng Jiang,” he answers, and while it still stings, they are making their way back to that.

Wei Wuxian forgot Chengqing in his old room last time he visited Lotus Pier and Jiang Cheng dares to hope that it means something.

“And why is that?” Jiang Fengmian asks, sending a sharp look at Jiang Cheng.

“Because I married Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian cheerfully says—too cheerfully, if you ask Jiang Cheng—and he throws himself at his husband who catches him easily.

“I see,” Jiang Fengmian says with a small smile. “What a wonderful match.”

“It is,” Wei Wuxian agrees and then Jiang Fengmian turns to Jiang Cheng.

���Are you married?” he asks and Jiang Cheng shakes his head, expecting the sour look on his father’s face.

“I never quite found the time for it,” Jiang Cheng easily says because he long stopped being bothered by that fact.

“Ah, yes, I heard about what happened,” Jiang Fengmian gives back and turns his attention back to Wei Wuxian.

“You invented a new cultivation style. I am very proud of you,” he says and Jiang Cheng can’t help the snort he lets out at that.

“Do you have something to say to that, Jiang Cheng?” Jiang Fengmian demands to know and Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue.

“His new cultivation style killed over three thousand people before it eventually claimed his own life. I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of,” Jiang Cheng says, with an apologetic look to Wei Wuxian, who nods along.

“Yeah, it cost too much. It’s not actually something good, you know,” Wei Wuxian agrees but Jiang Fengmian shakes his head.

“But you did it because you gave your core to Jiang Cheng and didn’t have another choice, right? I’d say that’s a sign of true strength.”

“Wow,” Jin Ling mutters behind Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng is inclined to agree with him.

“And you lost your core in a reckless move, did you not?” Jiang Fengmian asks Jiang Cheng next and by now everyone in the room seems uncomfortable, even Lan Wangji.

Jiang Cheng has to give it to his father, he has quite the talent.

“Clearly,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says, but he does feel vindicated when he realizes that his father is just as bad as he was in his memory.

“What did you do while A-Ying learned to master his new life and got a family on top of that?” Jiang Fengmian asks and by now everyone in the room is holding their breath.

“You mean what did I do while Wei Wuxian was dead?” Jiang Cheng corrects him and then goes on without actually letting Jiang Fengmian speak. “I was building Lotus Pier back up, that was completely destroyed in the attack,” Jiang Cheng says, and he says it with pride, too, because he managed to do what people thought was impossible. “I raised my nephew and brought my Sect to greatness again.”

“By taking in everyone you could find,” Jiang Fengmian spits out. “Being a Jiang disciple used to mean something, once upon a time. And now look at who you are taking in. I hear your right hand used to be a servant.”

“As your right hand used to be, if I remember correctly,” Jiang Cheng sharply says and Jiang Fengmian’s eyes apologetically dart to Wei Wuxian, who is clenching his hands on his thighs.

“Listen, father, I don’t know what you remember, but when you and mother died, so did the majority of our people. Thousands of disciples were killed that day. They didn’t even spare the kids, did you know that? There wasn’t all that much left, after the Wens were done.”

“Still, you should have kept some priorities.”

“My priority was to rebuild my home,” Jiang Cheng shoots back but he knows that it’s futile.

It doesn’t matter what he says to his father, it won’t make a difference, because he is not Wei Wuxian.

“And yet you couldn’t even protect your family,” Jiang Fengmian bites out. “Yanli died, and for what?”

“For protecting Wei Wuxian, so really, shouldn’t you be proud of her?” Jiang Cheng says and Wei Wuxian makes a wounded sound next to him.

“It was my fault,” Wei Wuxian lowly admits. “I lost control and everyone wanted to kill me, and shijie only died because she tried to protect me.”

“Like family should,” Jiang Fengmian says and Jiang Cheng had enough of this.

“I think we’re done here,” Jiang Cheng says and it’s clear that Jiang Fengmian wants to say more to him, but it’s surprisingly enough not his voice that rings out.

“Sit back down,” Lan Qiren orders him and Jiang Cheng is surprised enough to simply do it.

“Wei Wuxian, do you have something to say?” Lan Qiren asks Wei Wuxian, voice softer than Jiang Cheng remembers ever hearing it, and Wei Wuxian nods so vigorously that his hair flies.

“You are a shitty father,” Wei Wuxian says then and Jiang Cheng sits down more firmly, because that he has to hear.

“Wei Ying!” Jiang Fengmian admonishes him but Wei Wuxian clearly doesn’t care.

“No, you are! Jiang Cheng survived a war! You died in the first wave of attacks and he survived all of them and he led a destroyed Sect to boot. He was thrust into the position as Sect Leader so young, but he did it, and he did it more than well. And he didn’t survive just one war, he survived my armies of undead as well.”

“You would have never hurt him,” Jiang Fengmian defends Wei Wuxian, even now, and Jiang Cheng huffs out a bitter breath.

“I would have,” Wei Wuxian argues and makes a grimace at Jiang Cheng, clearly apologizing for that. “I lost control, much earlier than people think, and there was nothing I wouldn’t have done. And I died for my sins.”

“But you did the impossible and came back,” Jiang Fengmian says and Wei Wuxian glares at him.

“I am back because poor Mo Xuanyu was harassed so much that he thought suicide would be better than living on. I was summoned back as a vicious spirit. There is nothing admirable about that,” Wei Wuxian vehemently says but Jiang Fengmian doesn’t seem like he is very much interested in how  Wei Wuxian is not the amazing guy he still seems to believe he is.

“Still,” Jiang Fengmian says and looks back at Jiang Cheng. “You don’t seem any closer to understanding the Sect motto than you were when I was still alive,” he says, and Wei Wuxian’s eyes flash red.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t actually want him to attack his father, even though it would be quite the sight to behold, but before he can do anything to stop Wei Wuxian, Lan Qiren speaks up.

“You egotistical, inflexible piece of shit,” Lan Qiren says, and it takes Jiang Cheng a moment to realize that those words really came out of Lan Qiren’s mouth.

But when everyone is staring at him, their mouths mostly open because no one heard Lan Qiren talk like that before, Jiang Cheng comes to the conclusion that it must have been really him.

“Qiren,” Jiang Fengmian starts, but Lan Qiren seems absolutely ready to tear Jiang Fengmian a new one.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Lan Qiren says. “You are a disgrace to your Sect. You never even attempted the impossible, because you were too mellow to ever take a challenge at all. And you can’t even recognize great men, because your son is sitting there after he achieved the impossible time and time again and you have nothing but contempt for him.”

“You shouldn’t speak on family matters,” Jiang Fengmian tries but clearly Lan Qiren is not done.

“I have more right to speak on family matters, than you do,” Lan Qiren says. “Especially when it comes to your son, who you so clearly think the worst of. You hold your son in so little regard that you really believe him to be so stupid as to lose his core in a reckless move? Seriously, out of the two, you’d think Wei Wuxian would be the one to do that, and yet you can’t even be bothered to question it.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian asks and Jiang Cheng desperately wonders why he never learned the silencing spell the Lans love so much.

It would come in really handy right now.

“Wait, what?” Wei Wuxian says again and looks back and forth between Lan Qiren and Jiang Cheng. “Say that again.”

“I think that’s enough,” Jiang Cheng says, but now Jin Ling chimes in for the first time.

“No, I think Teacher Qiren should speak,” he says, clearly remembering that moment after the whole temple mess. “I think this needs to be said.”

“And I think I’m going to break your legs,” Jiang Cheng hisses, but Jin Ling only smiles at him.

“Jiang Wanyin!” Jiang Fengmian yells. “How dare you speak like that to your sister’s son.”

Jiang Cheng has a few choice words for that, but before he can articulate them, Jin Ling gives him his best glare.

“He’s my jiu-jiu and he can speak to me however he wants,” Jin Ling tells him with more bite than Jiang Cheng expected and it’s almost enough to derail the previous conversation.

But only almost, because Wei Wuxian is worse than a dog with a bone.

“Wait, let’s go back, what was that about Jiang Cheng losing his core?”

“It was nothing,” Jiang Cheng says, mostly because he doesn’t want to do this in front of his father.

If the truth comes out—and it seems more than unlikely that he can keep it a secret for much longer—then he doesn’t want to hear what his father has to say to that.

It will probably be the only time he will praise Jiang Cheng, because he did it to protect Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.

“I think it’s time for you to go back now,” Jiang Cheng says with a meaningful look to Lan Qiren, who thankfully seems to understand enough to undo the summoning circle without a second thought and Jiang Fengmian vanishes before he can say another word.

“If you think that gets you out of telling the truth, you’re mistaken,” Wei Wuxian says to Jiang Cheng, who only shrugs, because he knows when he’s being beat.

“Fine, whatever,” he says and motions for Lan Qiren to speak.

“You’re not so stupid to try and get your parent’s bodies back, no matter how much you’re grieving. So there must have been another reason you got captured,” Lan Qiren says, and Jiang Cheng didn’t know he thought so highly of him.

“Maybe I am just that stupid,” Jiang Cheng tries, but Lan Qiren sends him such a sharp glare that Jiang Cheng flinches.

“Tell the truth, Jiang Cheng. What did you do?” Wei Wuxian whispers, though Jiang Cheng can already see understanding dawn on him.

“You were buying medicine for A-jie,” Jiang Cheng says after a long moment, and he looks down at his hands, because it feels safer than looking at Wei Wuxian. “Wen soldiers were coming up behind you, and they wouldn’t have passed by.”

“And then they got distracted,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, “by you. Why would you do that?” he wants to know and at that Jiang Cheng lifts his gaze.

“I just lost my entire family, my home. Do you really think I could have survived losing someone else?” he wants to know and it stuns Wei Wuxian into silence.

“You distracted them to safe my life,” Wei Wuxian says and Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue.

“They would have killed you on the spot or tortured you. Wen Chao hated you enough for both, so I had to do something.”

“And then you got tortured,” Wei Wuxian cries, and Jiang Cheng is acutely aware of all eyes on him.

“Not in front of the kids,” Jiang Cheng hisses out, but before he’s even done, Wei Wuxian has thrown himself at Jiang Cheng.

“I love you, too,” he sobs out and Jiang Cheng’s eyes are burning enough that it’s safer to just hide his face in Wei Wuxian’s neck.

“Yeah, yeah,” he awkwardly says around the lump in his throat. “I love you, too.”

There’s a long moment of silence, before Lan Qiren clears his throat.

“Now that this unpleasant situation is over, everyone is free to leave.”

Wei Wuxian only reluctantly parts from Jiang Cheng, but when Jiang Cheng smiles slightly at him, he seems to understand that there will be time later.

“Lan Qiren, I didn’t know you held my shidi in such high regard,” Wei Wuxian says, clearly not done with the unpleasant situation and Jiang Cheng wants to strangle him.

“Sect Leader Jiang is one of the bravest, most capable cultivators and Sect Leaders I ever had the honour to teach and I will not stand for any slander against him,” Lan Qiren says, very deliberately not looking at Jiang Cheng, who is glad about that.

Because his eyes are burning like crazy again and he doesn’t actually want Lan Qiren to see him cry.

“He took his Sect and his Sect’s motto to heights that were never before reached and he should be held in the highest regard by everyone,” Lan Qiren mercilessly goes on, and Jiang Cheng only doesn’t burst into tears, because Jin Ling presses into his side.

“He’s right,” Jin Ling says and all the juniors agree.

“Absolutely,” Wei Wuxian predictably says, but when even Lan Wangji makes an affirmative noise, it all becomes too much for Jiang Cheng.

“Alright, stop that, enough,” he snaps out, his voice only barely shaking and everyone laughs at him.

Even Lan Qiren’s face softens.

“It’s only the truth,” Lan Qiren says and Jiang Cheng gives in to the fact that his dignity is a lost cause today.

He does burst into tears, but it’s not at all bad, because Wei Wuxian is the first one to hug him and he’s crying, too.

Jiang Cheng thinks it’s only fair that they both lose face like this in front of the kids and their teacher.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #jclovemonth2020 #the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #jiang fengmian #junior quartet #lan qiren #hurt/comfort #post canon #support #lqr HAS HAD IT #and he's not too shy to say it #as he should

[filthy-vigilante]

Batman: Where to Start

*** long post***

Getting in to comics is rather hard and finding a good starting place or a good recommended must-reads is hard and confusing and you typically get hundreds of different answers.

This is my personal list, that I'm working through and hope to collect. I've done quite a bit of research and feel like this is a adequate reading list for modern (post-crisis) Bruce Wayne

Anyway, here's my list:

Batman: Year One (Batman Vol 1 #404-#407)

This story line established the back story for Batman in the post-crisis timeline, along with the back stories for Commissioner Gordon and Selina Kyle. Not necessarily canon anymore, but a good story to get the feel of the characters

Batman: The Man Who Laughs

This is a one shot that was published in 2005 that tells the story of Batman’s first encounter with the Joker roughly a year after the Batman’s debut in Gotham. Based on the Joker’s original first appearance in Batman Vol 1 #1.

Batman and the Monster Men

This is a 6 part mini series that takes place sometime after Batman: Year One and Batman: The Man Who Laughs. First half of the Dark Moon Rising series. Story revolves around Batman’s first dealing with Hugo Strange

Batman and the Mad Monk

This is another 6 part mini series that is the second half of the Dark Moon Rising series. It is a retelling of a story from Detective Comics Vol 1 #31-32

Batman: The Long Halloween

This is a 13 part limited series, that serves as a re-introduction of the Calendar Man and features a wide array of Batman’s rouge gallery such as Two-Face, Scarecrow, Riddler, Joker, and Poison Ivy.

Batman: Dark Victory

This is a 14 part limited series that is a sequel to The Long Halloween. The main case in the story is a turf war between Two-Face and the Falcon Mafia. It also serves as a re-telling of Dick Grayson’s Robin origin.

Batman: Birth of the Demon (TPB)

This is a collection of 3 Batman one shots: Son of the Demon, Bride of the Demon, and Birth of the Demon. All stories center around Ra’s al Ghul and Talia al Ghul.

Batman: Strange Apparitions (Detective Comics Vol 1 #469-479)

This collection reintroduces Golden Age villains such as Hugo Strange and Dead shot along with introducing new villains such as Doctor Phosphorus and Clayface III.

Batman: The Killing Joke

A 60 page one shot that hints at the Jokers true identity, along with pushing the Jokers madness to new extremes, and showing just how dangerous he can be.

Batman: the Cult

This is a 4 issue mini series, in which Batman gets captured, torture and brain washed by Deacon Blackfire. This is also one of the few stories written by Jim Starlin that shows Jason Todd in a favorable light, as Starlin had a dislike for the character and kid sidekicks.

Batman: Death in the Family (Batman Vol 1 #426-429)

The famous 4 issue story arc that allowed readers to vote on the fate of the then current Robin, Jason Todd.

Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying (Batman Vol 1 #440-442)

This story is the introduction of Tim Drake and his taking of the Robin Mantle. The story also involves a case with Two-Face

Batman: The Last Arkham (Batman: Shadow of the Bat #1-4)

This story shows us the inner workings of Arkham Asylum, along with introducing new villains such as Zsasz, Jeremiah Arkham, and Amygdala

Batman: Gothic (Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #6-10)

In this story we get to see glimpses of Bruce Wayne childhood.

Batman: Venom (Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #16-20)

This story introduces us to the strength-enhancing drug, venom

Batman: Knightfall (Batman Vol 1 #492-510, #512-515; Batman: Shadow of the Bat #16-30, 32-35; Catwoman Vol ? #6-7, #12-13; Detective Comics Vol 1 #659-677, #679-682; Justice League Task Force #5-6; Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #59-63; Robin #7-9, 11-14; Showcase ‘93 #7-8; Showcase '94 #10)

The Knightfall collection is a trilogy consisting of Knightfall, Knightquest, and KnightsEnd. In the story, Batman is crippled by Bane leading to him enlisting help from Jean-Paul Valley, while he recovers. Jean-Paul becomes increasingly unstable and violent, ruining Batman’s reputation until Bruce can finally put an end to it. The story had long term ramifications in the batcannon as Bruce had to rebuild the trust everyone had for him.

Batman: Contagion (Batman: Shadow of the Bat #48-49; Detective Comics Vol 1 #695, #696; Robin Vol 4 #27-28; Catwoman Vol #31-32; Azrael #15-16; Batman Vol 1 #529; Batman: Chronicles #4)

A cross over even where a deadly virus sweeps through Gotham. One of the story lines leading in to the No Man’s Land event.

Batman: Legacy (Batman Vol 1 #533-534; Batman: Bane; Bane of the Demon #1-4; Batman: Shadow of the Bat #53-54; Catwoman Vol 2 #33-36; Detective Comics Vol 1 #700-702; Robin Vol 4 #32-33)

Another crossover, this storyline serves as a wrap up for Contagion as well as Knightfall. One of the story lines leading in to No Man’s Land event.

Batman: Cataclysm (Azrael #40; Batman Vol 1 #553-559; The Batman Chronicles #12, #14; Batman: Arkham Asylum- Tales of Madness #1; Batman:Blackgate- Isle of Men #1; Batman/Huntress/Spoiler: Blunt Trauma #1; Batman: Shadow of the Bat #73-79; Catwoman Vol 2 #56-57; Detective Comics Vol 1 #719-722, #724-726; Robin Vol 4 #52-54)

The final crossover storyline leading in to No Man’s Land. After a earthquake, Gotham’s heros have to band together to help the citizens in the aftermath.

Batman: No Man’s Land (Azrael #47-61; Batman Vol 1 #560-574; Batman: Harley Quinn; Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #116-126; Batman: No Man’s Land #1-0; Batman No Man’s Land Secret Files and Origins; Batman: Day of Judgement; Batman: Shadow of the Bat #80-94; The Batman Chronicles #16-18; Catwoman Vol 2 #72-77; Detective Comics Vol 1 #727-741; JLA #32; Nightwing Vol 1 #35-39; Nightwing Secret Files and Origins; Robin Vol 4 #67-73; Young Justice: In No Man’s Land)

After several catastrophic events in Gotham, the US government decides to cut off Gotham, destroying all bridges to the city leaving Batman and allies to keep order in the city.

JLA Tower of Babel (JLA #43-46)

This story deals with the discovery of Batman’s plans and files on how to take out the members of the Justice League in the event of them going rouge.

Bruce Wayne: Murderer? (Batman: The 10-Cent Adventure #1; Batgirl #24; Batman Vol 1 #599; Batman: Gotham Knights #25-26; Birds of Prey Vol 1 #39-40; Detective Comics Vol 1 #766-767; Nightwing #65-66; Robin #98-99

Bruce Wayne is arrested for murder and the rest of the bat family are forced to solve the crime and help clear his name.

Bruce Wayne: Fugitive (Azrael #91; Batgirl #27, #29-33; Batman Vol 1 #600-601, #603, #605-607; Batman: Gotham Knights #27-28, #30-31; Birds of Prey #41-43; Nightwing #68-69; Detective Comics Vol 1 #768-775)

This story is the follow up to Bruce Wayne: Murderer. After getting out of jail, he must solve the murder, as those around him begin to doubt his innocence.

Batman Hush (Batman Vol 1 #608-619)

This story arc share a bit about Bruce Wayne’s childhood along with introducing a new billion, Hush and furthering Batman and Catwoman’s romantic relationship. This story also teases the resurrection of Jason Todd, the second Robin.

Batman: Heart of Hush (Detective Comics #846-850)

A follow up to Batman Hush, once again furthering Batman and Catwoman’s romantic relationship. Also serves as a prelude to Batman R. I. P.

Batman Under the Red Hood (Batman Vol 1 #635-#641, #645-650, Annual #25)

This Story focuses on Jason Todd, the second Robin’s resurrection and return to Gotham

Batman R. I. P. (Batman Vol 1 #667-669, #672-686, #701-702; Detective Comics #846-853; Nightwing Vol 2 #147-153; Batman and the Outsiders Vol 1 #11-14, special #1; Robin #175-183)

This story leads up to Bruce Wayne’s apparent death in the DC Final Crisis event.

What Ever Happened to the Caped Crusader? (Batman Vol 1 #686; Detective Comics Vol 1 #853

These two issues deal with the aftermath of Bruce Wayne’s apparent death.

Battle for the Cowl

This is a 3 issue minis series that shows the remainder of the bat family hold Gotham together in the wake of Batman’s death and Nightwing ultimate decision to take up the mantle.

Batman: Hush Money (Detective Comics Vol 1 #852; Batman Vol 1 #685; Batman: Streets of Gotham #1-4)

Batman’s enemy Hush alters his face to look like Bruce Wayne and begins pretending to be him.

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne

A 6 issue limited series that shows Bruce Wayne’s journey through time to return to present day Gotham.

Bruce Wayne: The Road Home

A limited series that details the return and aftermath of Bruce Wayne’s return. Batman Vol 1 #703 is a prelude to the series.

Batman: House of Hush (Batman: Streets of Gotham #14, #16-21)

A story arc that ties up the Hush Money story and the return of Bruce Wayne.

Batman Incorporated

This series focuses on Bruce Wayne franchising the Batman name across the globe, while Dick Grayson still serves as Batman in Gotham.

Batman: The Gates of Gotham

A limited series that features Dick Grayson as Batman, but was used as a lunching point for major Batman story lines in New 52.

Batman New 52

After the New 52 reboot, DC began Batman Vol 2, aka Batman New 52

Batman Eternal

A weekly limited series that ran for a year, reintroducing numerous villains in to the New 52 canon, along with Stephanie Brown.

Batman and Robin Eternal

A weekly limited series that ran for 6 months as a follow up to Batman Eternal. The story jumps between Dick Grayson’s first year as Robin and the present. Cassandra Cain is reintroduced in to the New 52 canon in this series.

Batman Rebirth (ongoing)

Current Batman title

Previously posted on @filthy-vigilantes

#Batman #Bruce Wayne #dc comics #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Robin #barbra gordon #stephenie brown #cassandra cain #batgirl #batfam #batfamily #gotham #mp

[mimisempai]

You walked into my life like you had always lived there

Summary

Charles has resigned himself to a life alone in Paris, but he might be surprised by a visit from an "old friend"... Will they get another chance to reach happiness?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31463351

Words:3719 - Chapters:1/1

This morning, like every other morning, sitting on the terrace of the café downstairs from his small apartment, Charles was waiting for his usual coffee while watching the bustle of the street. Delivery men unloading their vans at the grocery store on the corner, the bookstore owner unpacking his shelves, a tourist couple having their picture taken with the view of Montmartre in the background. The passers-by, people going to work, others walking their dogs. All this lively and colorful world coming and going, talking, laughing, reminded him of the hallway of a certain school, in the mornings just before the students entered their classrooms.

And like every morning, Charles was acutely aware of his loneliness. He had voluntarily closed his mind to all other thoughts than his own.

Thoughts that were enough to torment him.

More often than not, they were memories which he forced himself to face. His mistakes, what he should or should not have done. Searching, dissecting when he had lost sight of his values. At what point he had let down those he had sworn to protect since the day he had discovered Raven in his kitchen so many years ago.

But appeasement never came.

At the beginning, Hank gave him news of the school, of the progress of the students, news of each one and then little by little the messages had spaced, Charles put more and more time to answer, letting the distance grow voluntarily. It was now 3 months that he had no news and it was good like that.

Raven, Jean, Alex... and the names of all the others were spinning in his head, like a macabre dance, a torture he was inflicting on himself to atone.

There was only one name that he refused to pronounce, that he refused to think about. The one name that had always been able to read him without having any telepathic powers.

"You're always sorry, Charles. And there's always a speech. But nobody cares anymore."

"Will that be all sir?"

The waitress, pulling him out of his musings, put his coffee on the table.

"Yes, thank you," Charles replied.

"Mutant and proud."

Raven had always been right,

"Or is that only with pretty mutations or invisible ones, like yours. But if you're a freak, better hide."

Mutant yes, but proud he was no longer. He was the freak who had to hide.

He took a sip of his coffee and ran his hand over his face.

He suddenly felt a presence behind his back, and a shiver went through him at the sound of the voice with such familiar inflections,

"How's retirement treating you Charles?"

Erik sat down and placed a small case containing a chess set at his feet. Why was he there? To taunt him? To provoke him? Charles resisted the temptation to read his mind. He clenched his fist on his knee. Erik was the only one to provoke this storm of emotions in him. The only one who had the capacity to unsettle him.

So as always he chose the attack,"What are you doing here, Erik?"

He finally dared to meet Erik's eyes, and he almost gasped, because, in the blue-gray eyes, there was nothing of the harshness, of the disappointment from their last meeting. Erik's gaze was kind and open as he replied with a slight smile, "I came to see an old friend. Fancy a game?"

Erik showed him the chess set at their feet. Their usual chess game, the moment when their minds clashed. That space outside of time, where despite the fights and conflicts, they always managed to find each other. But this time Charles wasn't sure he had the strength to offer Erik a worthy opponent. So he shook his head and replied, "No, not today. Thank you."

He looked away. He couldn't look at Erik when so many emotions were running through him. He was sure he would never see the only man he had ever loved again, and there he was in front of him, beautiful, making Charles even more aware of his own state.

"A long time ago, you saved my life. Then you offered me a home. I'd like to do the same for you."

Charles studied Erik's expression for a long time. Always the same openness and acceptance. He was once again tempted to read Erik's mind.

"You can, you know." Erik made the hand motion that Charles made when he wanted to access someone's mind.

As always he had seen right through Charles, but again no disappointment or disgust in the voice and the eyes.

Charles after swallowing, answered in a slightly hoarse voice, having trouble containing his emotions.

"I don't do that anymore."

Erik simply nodded with a half smile, put his hands in his pockets, then took them out, and held them out in front of him in clenched fists, just like in the old days.

"Just one game. For old times' sake."

Charles gave in, he didn't feel like fighting anymore, he didn't feel like pretending. So he held out his hand to Erik's right fist, which opened to a white pawn.

Erik said with a slight teasing smile, "I'll go easy on you."

Charles replied with the same smile, just a little more hesitant, "No, you won't."

As they set up the pieces, Erik added, "I might surprise you, you know Charles."

Charles stopped his motion as he went to move a knight, and said with emotion in his voice as he stared into Erik's eyes, "You already have."

Time stood still for a moment, neither of them able to take their eyes off the other. Then Charles continued his movement and the game resumed.

The sun was high in the sky when they finished their game. It was Erik who had won. But as always, no matter who won, neither of them cared, the important thing was the duel not the result.

"Well?" inquired Erik as he closed the chess set, "Did you have time to think about my offer?"

"Did you mean it?" Charles hoped Erik couldn't hear the eagerness in his voice, because he really wanted to accept Erik's offer. But did he deserve it? Did he have a right to this home Erik was offering him? And what did a home even mean?

His hand began to tremble slightly, as if he wanted to grasp something, but didn't dare. He closed his eyes to compose himself.

He felt a hand rest on his as Erik's voice said softly, "Charles...". He opened his eyes. Erik's hand opened his clenched fist and intertwined his fingers with his. Charles slowly raised his eyes to Erik's face.

The urge to surrender, to let go, hit Charles even harder. He could see so much in Erik's eyes, but he was so afraid of being disappointed and of disappointing... again. He closed his fingers over Erik's and tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat.

Erik continued, "Charles, no demands, no debts, no obligations, this is completely free, I'm just offering you a simple and protected life. It's far from a castle life, but Genosha is a small, isolated island where we have created a self-sufficient community. Most of the inhabitants are like us, "retired" mutants with wounds to heal. You can-"

Charles interrupted him, "It's okay Erik, no need to say any more, I accept. " and after a moment of silence, he added, "Thank you."

Erik simply smiled, put his other hand over their entwined hands and said, "I'm just showing the same generosity that you have shown to me over and over again. No need for gratitude between us. We are just two friends and..."

Erik paused as if he were about to say something else.

"And?" asked Charles, curious about what Erik had stopped himself from saying.

For the first time since the beginning of this meeting, Erik looked a little unsettled before answering, "Nothing... well at least not now."

Charles didn't insist, he knew there was a lot to clear up between them. But now that he had decided to follow Erik to his island, he knew they had time.

"So how do we do this?"

Erik replied as he stood up, "I'll go with you to your flat, you take what you need for a few days, and we'll leave for Genosha. You can get the rest delivered later."

"So soon?"

"Why wait? Do you have obligations here, people to say goodbye to?"

"No!" replied Charles curtly, angry at having been found out once again.

He began to roll his wheelchair quickly toward the entrance of his building. Erik joined him in two strides before putting his hand on his shoulder. Charles felt bad for being so touch starved that this simple touch immediately soothed him.

"Charles, I know what it's like, I've been there. Don't get upset. It wasn't a criticism or a mockery." He squeezed Charles' shoulder before letting his hand fall back.

"I know..." sighed Charles. "Come on."

As they walked through the door of Charles' tiny apartment, sensing that Erik was about to say something, Charles admonished him, "Don't say anything."

Erik waved his hand, as if he were zipping up his mouth without hiding his smile, but finally couldn't help himself.

"My Charles, do you live in that shoebox? I'm disappointed in you! Pretty spartan."

Seeing Charles' dark glare, he pretended to surrender. "Ok, ok, I'm not saying anything more."

Charles muttered, "Liar."

Then they gathered Charles' things and a few hours later they were on their way to Genosha.

__________

Two weeks later, Charles was unpacking the last of the boxes that had just arrived, mostly books. Erik had built him some makeshift shelves. His "residence" like all of Genosha’s, was made of salvaged materials, but Charles didn't mind. Although he had always lived in a certain opulence, he knew how to make do with little.

"Need a hand?"

Erik had just stepped through the curtain that served as a door.

"I'm not saying no."

They hadn't had time to really talk and clear the air between them, but Erik was very thoughtful. Charles was a little insecure, not knowing where he stood. So he decided to just take things as they came. If he was honest with himself, he knew how he felt about Erik. But he wouldn't act, he didn't want to risk breaking the friendship they were rebuilding.

Erik had begun unpacking a box of books.

"Do you have a particular order?"

"No put them on the shelves as they come for now."

So Erik began to put the books away, commenting on some of the titles.

"Oh Charles, Charlotte Brontë really? Jane Eyre as well?"

"Hey Erik, just because you're helping me doesn't mean you have to like what I read."

"Ho Ho! You even marked a page."

Charles remembered, what page and what words he had written in the margin.

"Erik, please put that book away, it doesn't matter."

But he could see from Erik's face that he wasn't about to let go, so he resigned himself and closed his eyes waiting for a reaction, of what kind, he didn't know.

"Charles?"

Charles squeezed his eyes tighter.

"Yes?"

"Is that about me?"

Charles had a small self-deprecating laugh before he replied, "I don't know any other Erik, so yes."

"What do you mean with 'you left Erik and now I'm bleeding'?"

Charles let out a big sigh and put his head in his hands. "This is really embarrassing...it's in relation to the underlined passage that's a little higher up if I remember correctly."

He knew the phrase by heart, because it had resonated in a special way since he'd met Erik, but he hadn't expected the raw emotion that ran through him when he heard Erik read the words aloud.

“I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I’m afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I’d take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you’d forget me.”

Charles heard Erik put the book down, and a sound of footsteps, he still didn't want to open his eyes, he was too afraid of what he would read in Erik's eyes. He was aware of Erik's presence very close to him, then a hand clasped his.

"Charles, please look at me." Erik's voice was almost pleading, Charles didn't resist and opened his eyes, to see that Erik had knelt down to be at his level. Then he looked up at Erik's eyes, afraid of what he would find there, and gasped, Erik looked almost amazed, yes that's right, amazed.

"Charles is that how you still feel?" Erik asked him in an pressing tone, his eyes scanning his, leaving Charles no escape.

Charles swallowed, and despite his tight throat, he tried to answer, "Yes."

"But when... I mean since when?"

"When? Do you remember the day you managed to unlock your power. The day you let me access that memory? Well since that day, I've felt this very strong connection between us."

Erik tightened his grip on his hand and asked, "And those words in the margin?"

Charles' voice was a whisper, "After the missiles and the beach, when you left."

"Oh Charles, I...I'm so sorry." The regret was genuine in Erik's eyes.

"Don't be anymore, it's been a long time since I forgave you and since then I think I've made my share of mistakes and bad decisions. Some of which have more consequences than losing my legs. Raven was right, I had forgotten who I was. Why I started all this in the first place. I lost sight of what was important, I lost... I lost so much. And I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner, and... I'm not as evolved as I thought I was. You say you're sorry Erik, but you don't know how sorry I am. Forgive me I... I must..."

Charles had to go, he had to get out, the grief he had been feeling since he left school, no even before, since Raven's death, it was all threatening to come out, he didn't want to fall apart like that in front of Erik.

But Erik was keeping him from walking away. Still kneeling and holding his hand.

"Erik, please move over... let go of me, I have to get out, I-" the tears were starting to blur his vision, with his free hand he was trying to push his wheelchair forward.

"Charles, stop! You don't have to leave. You don't have to be alone anymore. You are not alone!"

Erik loosened Charles other hand's grip on the wheel, and suddenly took him in his arms, and he felt his lips move against his head and the words came to his ears "Charles, you can let go, even though I've failed you many times in the past, this time I won't. Let it go. Don't be afraid, I'll catch you."

Because Charles no longer had the strength to stay strong, because he was craving for someone to lean on, he let go. He let the grief engulf him, because he knew Erik was there and would keep him from drowning.

Erik continued to hold him and whispered over and over, "That's it, let it all out. I'm here mein Liebster. Let it out."

Once the crying dried up, exhaustion fell on Charles and he fell asleep in Erik's arms. He was sleeping so deeply that Erik had been able to lift him out of his wheelchair without him waking up and now he was lying with his back against Erik's front, his head under his chin and Erik's arms wrapped around Charles.

Erik had been torn when he saw his beloved overwhelmed by grief and wondered how long it had been since Charles had been able to express his pain. He had always been attracted to the shining side of Charles, he often compared them to two sides of the same coin. But when he'd found him in Paris, he'd seen that all that light was like dulled.

"Erik..." the still broken voice Charle continued, "Thank you..."

"Sshh Charles, I told you no thanks are needed between us."

"Yeah..." Erik felt Charles relax against him again.

"Sleep, meine Liebster."

Much later, Erik was awakened by a gentle brushing sensation on his face. He opened his eyes, found himself facing Charles, who was withdrawing his hand as if he had been caught with his hands in the jam jar.  Erik grabbed his hand and placed it back on his own cheek.

"Don't stop Charles..."

He saw Charles' expression ease as he gently stroked his face with feather-like touches, tracing Erik's facial lines with his fingertips.

Their faces were so close that Erik immediately caught sight of Charles gulping as a veil of sadness passed over his face.

"What's wrong?"

"I've lost you so many times already," Charles murmured.

"But I'm still here and so are you. Now we're together."

Erik couldn't resist, he crossed the remaining distance between them and put his lips to Charles'. It was as if everything fell into place in their worlds at that moment.

They remained for a long time, joined in a soft and almost innocent embrace.

Charles moved back and stared at Erik, looking for something in his eyes. He must have found what he was looking for because he smiled. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from his face.

His lips parted and he pressed them to Erik's again. Erik licked the corner of his mouth and slid his tongue over his bottom lip, then kissed him. Charles quickly opened up to him, welcoming him wordlessly with his lips and hands in his hair. His tongue mimicked the actions of hers, and soon they were drinking from each other's lips, caught up in a thirst that would not seem to be quenched.

Erik slid his hands to Charles' waist, and pulled him as close as he could get. Charles' head fell back with a moan as Erik’s fingers slipped under his shirt and caressed his back. Erik took advantage of his distraction and lowered his head even further to press himself against his neck. He felt the slide of his tongue against his skin, then his teeth biting the same spot. Charles had a slight startle. His hands slid over Erik's shoulders and his fingers dug in. Erik immediately raised his head, worried about his reaction. "Not good?"

"No. Good. Really good," Charles reassured him in a gentle sigh. Erik smiled fondly and returned his attentions to Charles' neck. But Charles groaned and tugged at his hair, pulling Erik toward him so he could take his lips again.

Much later, as they both caught their breath. Lips to lips, forehead to forehead, Charles asked Erik, "I don't know if I was dreaming or not, but before you called me 'mein liebster', 'my dearest' if I am not mistaken."

For the first time since he had known him, Charles saw Erik's cheeks turn slightly pink. However, Erik's voice was perfectly assured as he replied, "You were not dreaming mein Liebster." He punctuated his words with a tender kiss.

"Unless you prefer, mein Schatz, my treasure." Another kiss.

"Or mein Geliebter, my beloved." Another kiss.

It was now Charles's turn to have slightly red cheeks. But he, too, looked Erik squarely in the eye and asked, "Is that really what I am?"

"Yes, my love and much more." Erik emphasized this with another kiss.

"Since when?"

"I'll show you. By looking into my thoughts in the brightest corner of my sensory memory like you did that time, you will find an additional memory beyond the one you found to help me unlock my powers."

Charles began to protest, "No Erik, I don't want to-"

Erik put a finger over his mouth, "Shhh, I'm asking you to."

He took Charles' hand and placed his fingers against his temple, in the familiar gesture he had when he wanted to access someone's thoughts.

Erik, visibly moved, addressed Charles, "What did you just do to me?"

"I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system. It's a very beautiful memory, Erik. Thank you"

"I didn't know I still had that."

Charles put his hand on his shoulder and said with strength and emotion in his voice, "There's so much more to you than you know. Not just pain and anger. There's good to you, I felt it. And when you can access all that, you'll possess a power no one can match. Not even me."

When Charles exited Erik's head, they were both deeply moved by the strength of the emotions of the shared memory.

Erik pressed his forehead against Charles'.

"What you told me that day, that there was good to me, that you felt it. It's a memory as happy as my mother's. It was also that day that I felt the connection between us. That I knew that-"

Erik paused for a moment.

"That you knew what?"

"That I was hopelessly and madly in love with you. I love you Charles. We've fought together, we've clashed, we've been through terrible trials sometimes together, sometimes against each other, but this, what I feel for you has always been my ultimate truth. I love you Charles."

Charles once again gasped, this time at the open adoration he read on Erik's face.

He raised his hand to his face, tracing the outline of it he said, his voice broken, "Despite all the detours I've taken, all the bad decisions you or I have made, every time, when it counted, you were there by my side, that unchanging presence. I can't tell where you start and where I end. I love you Erik, more than my life."

There. That moment. This moment of perfect communion after all they had been through. The fate, the choices, the events that had separated them, brought them together in a spiral that never seemed to end, it was all over. It was time for them to live. It wasn't the end, it was the beginning. This was their story.

___________

Although I am very familiar with X-men - Movie verse, I have never written for this fandom before. After rewatching Dark Phoenix, I'm only holding onto this ending scene. I wanted to write about Erik and Xavier from there. I hope I did them justice.

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed your reading.

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