GOT: an insult that would not be accepted

Rebellious silver locks fell on the princess's face. Her purple eyes set upon the man standing before her, in disbelief at what had just transpired. He had embarrassed the princess in such a way that did not warrant the Death penalty, but one that made her cheeks burn from being exposed as an illiterate princess in public. When she was still enslaved, she had no use for being literate, so her master never bothered with teaching her. Her beauty and dancing skills were more than enough for him, and she grew up thinking that she would never need to learn. That changed when Daenerys liberated Meereen, and Baahal became a princess. Suddenly, it became improper to be illiterate, and she became self-conscious about it but could not bring herself to request a Maester's help. So Tyrion had a system when they were in public together. He would secretly repeat every message sent to her so she would not need to read in public, and based on his words, she could form her opinion. 

Today, however, things have been different. The nobleman who stood before Baahal tricked her in public through a gift he gave her. It was a jewel with an engraving on it. It was a clever insult, one that flew over her silver head since she couldn't read it. So when she thanked him for his gift, he laughed in her face and turned around to the other noblemen in the room. He pointed out that she could not read for fucking shit and that she was ridiculous for it. Tyrion warned him to watch his tongue unless he wanted to be harshly punished, but he did not stop. Jaime was standing a few feet from the man, his green eyes alight with anger as he heard the insult directed at his betrothed. Very few men dared to insult the daughter of King Aerys II. Very few tried to mock her openly, especially not in her face.  Baahal, however, was shocked. 

"And pray tell, why should I stop talking, Ser Tyrion?" -He chuckled and lifted his shoulders and arms- "Why should I pretend to respect this princess? She is an illiterate illegitimate daughter..."

"Careful!" Tyrion still hoped he could stop the man from digging his own grave, but the nobleman refused to back down. Instead, he pointed his forefinger at the princess's face-

"She is a whore! She used to lie on her back and take fat cocks for a low price. I bet--"

He did not finish his sentence. Jaime did not wait and drew his sword to cut the man's head off. It was a clean cut, and the head rolled on the floor before aghast guests. Baahal's face remained stoic; she swallowed a hard lump.  Her hands held onto the rim of her dress as tightly as she could, and the princess pinched her lips together. What she had always feared happened; they brought her past back in a way to humiliate her in public. Baahal could not help what happened to her; she could not deny or reject the circumstances of her birth, but no one until now had ever mentioned it publicly, and even less in front of her. Suddenly, she was no longer worthy of being a princess because she was born into slavery and was used by countless men while she grew up. Suddenly, the brand on her shoulder started to burn, and Baahal tightened her fists into her skirt. She held her head high when Tyrion reminded the rest of the court that they should mind their words when they talked to the princess and that any slander and insult would be met with death. 

She left the room in a hurry, quickly followed by Jaime, who ushered her into an empty room. He knew the princess needed to vent. He knew that she was upset, and as soon as he closed the door behind him, the princess started to cry. She cried hard, so much so that the only thing Jaime Lannister could do was wrap his arms around her shoulders and pull her into a hug. The silver princess put her soft hands on his chest and cried hard. Jaime stroked her hair and whispered in her ear that everything would be alright, that he was there with her, and she could stop trying to be brave now that he was there. Baahal relaxed against him. 

"I did not know what to say when he started to insult me. Jaime... I usually know how to defend myself, but back there... I did not know what to say." -She sobbed harder-

"His words were vile, princess. His insults aimed at your heart. He spoke of you as if you were not worthy of being our princess, but he spoke out of ignorance and disdain." She shook her head and kept crying. It broke Jaime's heart to see her like this, but he had already dealt with the source of her pain, so there was not a lot he could do except talk- "You are not what happened to you. You are not what he said you were, and I certainly do not look down on you. Your subjects don't either. What they know about you is that you saved them when no one could. What they know is how kind and how loving you are. What they know is how brave and how strong you are. You lost your dragon, but that never stopped you. I know some of these assholes think like the man I have just killed, but they will always get what they deserve. They will always get what they deserve." 

"Jaime.... I don't want to embarrass you or my sister, the queen. I don't want people to look at me and only see my shame. It hurts so much.... I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize, princess. You are not responsible for what that asshole said. He paid the price, and any other person who tries to do the same thing will meet the same fate."

His words offered some comfort to the princess, but Baahal felt nauseous. She knew her past could not be easily forgotten, and some would accuse her of something she had no control over. She did not ask to be born a slave. She did not ask to be raped by her master and clients, and frankly, by any men who could lay their hands on her. It was a dark chapter of her life that had ended the moment she killed her master, and Daenerys liberated Meereen. Today, Baahal had full control of her life. She was a beloved princess who was doing her best to help her people. She did not look down on them and instead always made sure they were protected to the best of her abilities. Baahal the Brave. Baahal the resilient. Baahal the champion of the people. She was so much more than what she endured in her childhood. Jaime held her as tight as he could, hoping that his warmth would bring some comfort to his beloved. It would take some time for Baahal to calm down, but Jaime had the right intuition. He found the right words. He did the right thing.

-TBC-

Colby: ambushed

When dawn came, Tommy was finally out of the jaws of death. Mary had worked tirelessly to save the gangster's life and found herself with his blood on her hands, her skin pale as the moon. Her eyes were red from crying and from staying awake for so long with little to no break. She had to work on Tommy's body, alone, in the bleakness of winter. She had to ensure he didn't die from his wound or from the bitter cold. She had to ensure her own survival because if she died, then Tommy would too. There was a telephone in the safe house; she used the last bit of strength she had at dawn to call him once she was sure Tommy was stable enough to leave him out of her sight. 

Alarmed, the eldest Shelby tried to reassure Mary about coming as fast as he could, which could still take half the day in a car ride. She mindlessly hummed her approval and hung up the phone. Her face was covered with white streaks from tears she had cried that night. She looked around them. The safe house was nothing but desolation. There were bodies on the floor, with a bullet or more lodged in their bodies. These men attacked Tommy and Mary at their safe house, and after the initial shock of being found, Tommy and Mary quickly did as they had rehearsed. Both grabbed their guns and hid behind a wall. Mary was to protect herself and shoot if anyone came closer. She managed to kill two men who tried to take her by surprise and then hid under a table, so Tommy would not be too worried about something happening to her. 

He fired his gun, and the deafening sound of gunshots managed to hurt her eardrums.  It was only when there was no more firing sound that the nurse tried to move out of her hiding spot. Everyone was either painfully groaning or already dead. She carefully walked on top of the corpses and found Tommy sitting on the floor.  He took a bullet to the chest and was bleeding profusely. He was pale, alarmingly pale, and was holding onto his wound as tightly as he could. The nurse did not have time to panic. Instead, she went to work on Tommy. It was rudimentary, but she quickly filled a bowl with hot water, grabbed her first-aid kit, took Tommy to the nearest table, and helped him lie on his back. She went to wash her hands, and on her way back to the table, one of the dying men grabbed her ankle and begged her to save his life. 

Mary's eyes opened wide, and she kicked the man's arm and rushed to Tommy. Operating on Tommy was grueling. She managed to remove the bullet and stitch the torn flesh back together. Luckily for him, the bullet did not tear a vital organ apart, so his chance of survival increased, and Mary could perform the surgery on him. He passed out several times, and the brown-haired woman tried to slap his face to keep him awake.  She apologized for hurting him and for not being able to make him more comfortable. She apologized for not being what he needed and perhaps for failing him. She begged him to stay alive because they still had so much to live for together. They still had so much to do.  It took her two hours to remove the bullet and stitch him perfectly back together. 

It took her another two hours for an improvised blood transfusion. Tommy ended up falling asleep, and the dying man was now long dead. A deafening silence fell upon the safe house. Mary decided against climbing on the table, and instead sat on a chair next to his face. She slid her fingers into his and leaned her head on the table, right next to his. Mary did not sleep. She could not. Arthur came, but Mary did not register that. She did not register that the Peaky Blinders he came with took care of the bodies. She did not see them clean the safe house up, wipe out the blood on the floor, bury the bodies. She refused to be taken away from Tommy's body and refused to stop holding him until he woke up.  Arthur sighed and put his hand on her shoulders. 

"You need to drink something, Mary. You're pale as death. Your lips are dry. Come over... Mary. Drink something."

"I can't... I can't... I need him to wake up, Arthur. I need him to wake up." -She pinched her lips together and looked up at his face-

"Can I at least check for injuries? You tried your best to save me brother, but I have to make sure you're not wounded."

"I'm fine!" She yelled, holding onto Tommy's hands tighter. "Please...Don't take me away from him."

"Mary. Do you think he would like to see you in a bad shape?" 

Arthur's voice was softer, his eyes wet with emotion. He cared for the woman, like he would care for Ada. Mary was family, and if he was to lose yet another brother, Arthur did not want to lose a sister. He did not want anything to happen to Mary. Even worse, what if Tommy woke up and Mary died in his arms? He would never forgive Arthur for not taking care of his woman, so the eldest Shelby grabbed Mary's shoulders tighter and forced her back on her feet. She screamed and kicked and tried to push Arthur away, but he refused to give in to her and instead looked at her body for traces of a bullet impact or any other type of wound on her. She was pale, deathly so from the blood transfusion, but she did not have any wounds. She did not seem to be injured. 

"Release her!" 

Tommy's voice echoed through the room. He had gathered enough strength to yell at his brother and to reassure Mary that he was alive and well. He had been awake for a couple of minutes when his brother and his missus were arguing about her taking a break. He noticed that it was morning already and that he might have been in and out of it for a couple of hours. He groaned and shifted on the table as he wanted to sit on it. Mary pushed Arthur and rushed to the table so she could help Tommy sit. He grunted as his freshly dressed wound stung, but he tried to keep his head held high. Mary cupped his cheeks with blood-stained hands. 

"You're alive. You pulled through." He nodded, and her lips trembled. " I thought I had lost you. I couldn't... I couldn't live without you... Thank God..." And she fainted. Arthur was able to catch her before her body hit the floor, and he carried her in his arms. She was beyond exhausted and weak from the blood transfusion and needed to rest, and as soon as she woke up, she needed to eat. 

"The safe house is compromised. We'll use this place to lure our enemies in. Take Mary back home; Frances would have fixed something for her so she can eat upon waking up. I'll go to the Garrison. Get a doctor for me, fresh clothes and whisky, and bullets. I'm going to find out who did this and flush them out."

Arthur did as he was told. He would see to it that Mary was safely brought back home and that he could ensure his brother had everything he needed. He had no idea who could have tried something like this, but was ready for the fight to come. Tommy kept his concern for Mary to himself. She simply fainted and was not injured. He gathered that it was just exhaustion and nothing more serious than that. Before Arthur took her to the car, Tommy managed to stand up and stroked Mary's cheek with his calloused and dried-blood-stained hand. His eyes were filled with murderous intent as his heart was filled with revenge. He had to get the people who threatened Mary's life. He had to kill every single one of them and hoped that it was not Michael who was behind it because if it was, he would not spare any thought for Polly Grey's son. He would not spare any for Polly either. He would simply retaliate until there was nothing left of Michael Grey. 

-TBC-

Nixus: Bianchi

*This is serious.* Bianchi thought to herself as soon as Marc left the break room. Her coffee had gone cold during their conversation; she was too shocked to drink it. Nick Thomas... Bianchi rarely was shocked, mostly because in her line of work, it was not unusual to come face to face with the scum of the Earth. She had seen practically everything, from fisticuffs to serial murder, and with time, she managed to grow a thicker skin. You had to have one to be a cop; otherwise, you put your life and the lives of your partner and colleagues in danger. When emotions took over, logic disappeared, and that's when mistakes were made, and cases were thrown away because of carelessness. She witnessed colleagues losing their jobs because they assaulted perps so badly that it threw the case away, and the violent criminal was free to walk the Earth without care and with intel about how to become better at killing and hurting people.  Others lost their lives because they rushed headfirst before even making plans. So Bianchi tried her best to remain neutral, whatever the case. 

However, this time, it was different. No matter how hard the blonde cop had tried to put some emotional distance between the case and herself, she was having a hard time because it was Marc's girlfriend. This time it was about a vulnerable woman who had been beaten to near-death by an angry parent. Reading the report made Bianchi's stomach churn. She was angry and vengeful, but these emotions quickly turned into concern because Marc /was/  involved. He was the current boyfriend of the victim, and a cop. He had read that Phoenix did everything right and pressed charges right after the beating, but it led nowhere because the man had some influence and escaped prison.  Her first reaction was to worry that Marc would lose his shit and try to kill Nick Thomas. Bianchi had been there in the past, ready to use her job to hunt down and punish the kids who bullied her son Valentino in High school. Marc and Tony both had to tell her that she could not just pull out personal information and use police resources to punish the parents of these kids. It could cost Bianchi her job, and for what? For an impulse. 

Marc was her partner for 15 years, and they were so close to each other that she considered him her little brother. Her children called him "Uncle," and Tony treated him like his brother-in-law. Bianchi was fiercely protective of Marc, and while he assured her that he would not act on impulse, she could not help but worry. She would help him as promised. She would be the official liaison between him and the 3rd so his name would not compromise the case. She would check in with Marc to ensure that he would not go off the rails.  The blonde rubbed her eyes and closed them. *He really loves her. She's in deep shit. I have to protect both.* Phoenix was a gentle woman. Marc had introduced them for the first time when she visited the precinct one day. She looked like a very sweet and soft teacher who was taking good care of her student. She saw how relaxed Marc was next to her. He even smiled when his colleagues teased him about her. Phoenix was special because she made Marc happy. Bianchie could tell it was something good. Marc was slowly opening up to happiness. He had something to look forward to when his shift was done. He had plans for the weekends now; he mentioned Phoenix more than once and ate the baked treats she always packed for him. Marc asked Christie about some of his ideas for a date or a surprise, checking in with Bianchi like he would ask his older sister. It was a side of Marc she had never seen before, and she thought it was absolutely precious. 

Watching the two of them together was cute, warm, solar... and everything was thrown into a pit of darkness with that perp who came back into Phoenix's life to harass her and threaten to beat her up again. She saw how protective Marc was with her today. She saw how distraught Phoenix was. The way she shook and shivered. The way her voice broke when she tried to sound cheerful. She was scared of that man and expected him to come back and hurt her again.  This, she refused to let happen. She refused to let her friend, her brother, her partner go through hell because of an asshole. She wanted Marc to be happy, and she would see to it. Determined, the blonde woman left the break room with the files and a renewed determination to catch that asshole and keep him behind bars. 

-TBC-

Windora: make me forget.

There was an eagerness in the way Jake kissed Lux that made her forget the worries in her heart. There had been so many things to think about. Her father was restless, and her investigations led her to find a solid lead about the threat that was looming over them. An elder vampire was trying to take over the vampire society and held a grudge strong enough against the Adora family that it had its current patriarch fear for the lives of his fledglings.  When Jake kissed her forehead, Lux forgot about the mismatch of their couple. He was a human hellbent on keeping his humanity, and she was a vampire who refused to turn back into a human. They should not survive the next winter as their couple wasn’t sustainable. When Jake kissed her ears and made them flutter, Lux forgot about her fear of losing him to human illnesses or monster attacks. He was a Winchester, but he still remained mortal. He still remained vulnerable.

When Jake kissed her collarbones, Lux forgot the fears of introducing him to the vampire society and the cruelty she was subjected to. In the human world, Lux was revered as being an uncanny beauty. She was worshipped, adored, and thrived off the praises and adoration. In the vampire world, even her more tamed appearance was not enough to earn her basic respect. She was both desired and hated for her power and true face. And Lux feared that the incessant mockeries would make Jake recoil in disgust. In the vampire world, she was seen as a lost cause, someone who should only be used as a political pawn and stay hidden in the attic.  

When Jake kissed her breasts, she forgot how self-conscious she was about her true form. No one ever looked her in the eye, looked at her tail and her claws and teeth and told her she was beautiful. No one ever wanted to have sex with her in that form, and her own peers talked about her like she was a prehistoric animal. But Jake told her she was hot the first night he saw her true form. Jake kissed and hugged her after he saw what she truly looked like. He sought her touch. He sought her company, and with him, she simply could be herself. 

When Jake touched her body, there was nothing else in her mind but him. He owned her heart, even if he didn’t know it. She had given him her heart, her soul, and her love.  She wished they could live in all eternity, wished that this love was her last… oh, wouldn’t it be sweet if Jake was the last soulmate she would ever have? Wouldn’t it be sweet? But isn’t it impossible? A human and a vampire. A hunter from a legendary family and an exceptional creature… everything should have told her to give up on Jake, but love persevered. Love made her stay. Love made her want more. So in the burning passion she and her favorite human indulged in,  Lux forgot about her wishful thinking and hopes and focused on the moment. She focused on the love they shared with each other. She focused on how good it felt to be in his arms because otherwise the world would swallow her whole. So she lost herself to his passion and embraced her own burning fire for Jake. This moment was real. This moment was theirs. 

-TBC-

GOT: a thousand young and dashing men

Jaime rolled on his side, his emerald gaze set upon the curvy silhouette beside him. His eyes took in the divine sight before him. The princess looked unreal, with silver hair that shone bright under the moonlight. Amethyst eyes, a color so uncanny it looked like jewels adorning her face. Her smooth and mostly unmarred brown skin he was tempted to kiss all over. Her youthful face, beautifully round with plump lips that asked to be kissed and worshipped. Truly, the princess was otherworldly, and overtaken by the urge to cup her cheek, Jaime lifted his maimed arm and then realized that only his stump was pressed against her cheek. Baahal didn’t recoil; instead, she smiled at him, but Jaime felt overwhelmed with self-loathing.  What a vile sight that was. A maimed limb over the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Yet she didn’t seem to have issues with it. She didn’t seem to notice. It was only in his head, and perhaps that was the worst for Jaime. How could she not see the obvious? 

“My love, you seem troubled.” -her gentle voice forced the knight to focus on her again-

“Yes, princess. I just wonder what drove you to pick /me/ instead of another. Why me? Why an old crippled war veteran rather than a young and dashing knight? Princess… look at me. Truly look at me. I can’t make a reason in my mind other than eyes colored with love or perhaps pity.” 

His words felt like a slap in the princess’s face. Did he truly believe that she was oblivious to who he was and how he looked? Did he think she was with him because of pity or a misplaced sense of gratitude? The flash of shock transformed into something sweeter. She understood where he was coming from. Before they met, Jaime was a young and dashing man. He was the most sought-after bachelor of the Seven Kingdoms because of his uncanny beauty. He was a skilled knight who was hard to best in a joust or in a sword fight. He was a skilled lover -at least that’s what he told her the first night he bedded her- one who was able to make his lover melt under his skilled fingers. But he lost his good hand. He lost his golden locks. He aged faster due to worries and pain. Trauma creased his skin, turned his hair darker, and left him with a bitterness he had not realized inhabited his heart before. 

“Do you sincerely believe I  pity you? Do you, Jaime Lannister, believe that I am disgusted with you? That all I see when I look at you is an old decrepit man who deserves my pity? Do you hear yourself? My love. Do you hear yourself!” 

She sat on the bed, her silver hair cascaded on her chest and back, almost covering her like a thin silver blanket. Her eyes were alight with a fire he was so familiar with. His firecracker. His impossibly beautiful firecracker was positively burning with indignation. 

“I did not intend to offend you. I just can’t resolve myself to accept that you chose me….. that you lay with me every night and I can’t hold you like I want to. I can’t touch you like I want to. I can’t show you how good I was in my prime. I wanted to show you, my love, just how good I could make you feel with my good hand. I just… can’t understand why you chose me, when you could have been with younger and more handsome men than me.” 

Baahal blinked and put her hands on his chest. She let her fingers run through his beard and then into his hair. He expected her gaze to be full of reproach for speaking such awful words, but he saw none of it. He expected the princess to look at him with eyes filled with pity for him, and he saw none of it. Baahal was looking at him with a gaze full of compassion. She understood how he felt, to some extent, because she was self-conscious about her own branding. Iron burned her flesh and marked it with the name and sigil of her owner. It was a reminder that once upon a time, Baahal had been property. She had been used and abused by men who traveled the seas for a piece of her. Yet Jaime had never seen her unworthy of him. He never saw her as beneath him or tainted. He never saw her as soiled and in need of purity. 

“To the seven Hells with the young and dashing knights! I do not care for them nor do they move me like you do. If I were looking for that, I would have been married with children ages ago! I am /not/ the woman you used to be around. I am not superficial like they are. I chose /you/. I want /you/. I think— no, I know that you are handsome. Handsome is what makes my legs quiver, and they do when I look at you. 

I see a strong jaw, and green jewels that set upon me anytime you look at me. I see the sun rise with each gaze I catch from you. I feel the sun’s warmth whenever you smile. Dashing man that you are! A man of his word, a man of passion, and a man with a chiseled jaw I never tire of tracing with my fingers. A man I saw with different hairstyles, each bringing about a side of him I love. From the long-haired peacock you used to be, I fell for the more mature and experienced knight with shorter hair. I fell in love with the man whose life made him see heaven and hell, and yet he pulled back. He came back, and he still did the right thing. I see hair I can hold onto, a scalp I can get easier access to when passion takes over….

Jaime! Come on, my love. Look at me. I am not done yet…”

He had looked down, unable to stare at her while she was talking to him. He could not believe his ears, and yet she was genuinely talking to him. She was sincere; he had always known it. After all, the princess only met him after he had lost his hand. But Baahal thought he was handsome. She thought he was even more than what he lacked. Jaime opened his eyes wide and looked at her amethyst eyes. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, and Jaime knew that it was only a matter of time before his adorable crybaby started to cry. A sure sign of her sincerity. She stroked his cheek with her thumbs and slowly lifted his head up so he could sit straight. 

“I love you, my Golden Lion. All of you. I never saw what you lacked because for me, you were already realized. I have never met the Jaime you used to be. I did not fall in love with the Jaime who could have been. I fell in love with the person you are. I fell in love with the brave man who fought the White Walkers, the man who saved me at the siege, and the man who kissed me in that ship at dawn. I love the man who made me feel desire before even touching me. You haunted my nights from that day, and you still do when you are away.  I desire you, Jaime. “

“ Princess… but—“

“Didn’t you feel his wet? I was because of you, my love? Didn’t you hear my moans and gasps and pleads? Didn’t your cock feel how welcoming and hot and wet I was for you?”  -she stroked his cheek with the back of her right hand- “Only/you/ can make me moan; only you can make me lose strength in my knees. You are a strong man, with strength shaped by decades of practice and discipline. You are beautiful, with your scars, with your stump, with the proof that you have lived, laughed and lost. You are the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. With your devastating smiles and your proud gaze. You stand tall. You stand proud.” 

Her emotions became hard to hold back. She was so sincere that it was difficult for Jaime not to believe her. Tears rolled down her face, and he used his valid hand to clean them off her face. He pressed a kiss to her forehead in a tender gesture and pulled her into a gentle embrace. She sobbed against his chest, and he ran his hand through her scalp, in an attempt to soothe her. 

“It must have been so heavy to bear…all this self-loathing. My love. I don’t know if my words soothed your heart, but at least they are the truth. I love you. I desire you. I think you are the most handsome man to ever exist. Please… don’t see yourself as someone who lacks and can’t give me what I need because you do. Your love is priceless… your heart is uniquely beautiful, and you make me positively obsessed with you. So please… I beg you. Look at yourself through my eyes rather than what the world wants you to see. Please…”

“I—I will try, Princess.”  Was all he could say in hopes of comforting his princess. 

Jaime was still processing her words. He was still trying to apply them to him and see past his self-hatred. His beautiful princess was genuine. Her love was bright, and her words were true. Perhaps he could try and see himself as the man she said he was. Perhaps he could find some peace in her love. That night he certainly found comfort. 

-TBC-

Nixus: Violent delights

// Phoenix always makes sure to stay sober and protects Debbie whenever the two go out at night. Here is what happened during a night out. post-meeting Marc. 

xxx

Debbie begged for a night out with Phoenix. It had been a while since Chief Wallace moved into her house, and  Debbie had a moment for herself. She wanted to dance. She wanted to drink and let loose and could only do so with her friend Phoenix. So the honey-haired teacher agreed to go with her. It would be fun after all, to dance until she could no longer stand up. So on Friday night, Debbie went to Phoenix's apartment to get ready. She borrowed a short sequined purple dress with long sleeves, put her hair in a high ponytail, and kept the high heels she wore to work. Debbie was confident and beautiful that night. She blasted some music in the living room through the Bluetooth loudspeaker and danced and drank a glass of wine to pre-game their night out while her friend got ready. 

In her bedroom, Phoenix looked into her closet. She did not know what to wear that night. She hesitated for a long time before finally putting on a white "lingerie" thing-strapped dress, cinching a silver belt on her waist, and putting on a pair of low-cut black boots. Her makeup was light: a pinkish lipstick, pink and silver eyeshadows, and a pink blush. Her hair was let down, and she left her room with a triumphant smile on her lips. She was ready. Debbie whistled at the sight of her best friend and lamented that Nix did not dress up more. The two women laughed and teased each other for a while before Nix grabbed her bag, her keys, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. It was time to go. 

The evening was cut short after a couple of hours. Debbie drank far more than she could handle, and she was sick. Phoenix decided that it would be best to take her home. Despite her best friend vehemently protesting, Phoenix managed to drag her out of the club. Debbie's inebriated rant did not faze the young woman, who held her hand tighter and helped her walk towards the metro. Unfortunately, she felt sick, and the two found a wall Debbie could lean into to puke. Phoenix stood up next to her and noticed a trio walking towards them. She narrowed her blue eyes and quickly scanned the men closing the distance between them. They were dressed in expensive suits, leather shoes, typical businessman's haircut. One dark-skinned black man, the other two were white, but all three of them had that lustful gaze on. 

"Hey, beautiful, do you need some help with your friend?"

"No. We're good. You can keep walking, guys." -She tried to keep a neutral tone, but they took it as an invitation to get closer to her. 

"Aaaww, baby, come on. We noticed you from across the street. You two look like you want to have some more fun. Your friend is hot. I'm sure that her ponytail would look good wrapped around my fist. And you, baby, that big ass of yours, damn! And your lips are so plump that I'm sure you're a good cocksucker. Come on, let's have fun."

" Fuck off! Don't fucking touch me." Debbie's drunken voice pierced the darkness. One of the guys grabbed Debbie's wrist, and she slapped him hard. "I have a boyfriend. I don't care about you fuckers."

"You bitch!" He punched her face, and Debbie fell on the floor with a bloody nose. 

Phoenix's eyes grew wide, and she reacted instinctively. Her palm hit the throat of one of the guys who was standing in front of her. He grabbed his throat and took a couple of steps back. The one next to him tried to punch Nix, but she dodged him and instead kicked his leg. It made him stumble, and she punched him hard in the face, making him fall on the ground. The third man was surprisingly fast, and he superman punched her, hard enough for Phoenix to take several steps back and be conscious enough to cross her arms in front of her face to protect her from a kick that came from the same guy. Debbie screamed and tried to walk towards Phoenix to help her, but she was too drunk to be steady in her steps and fell on the ground. Her nose was still bleeding from the punch she got, so Nix yelled. 

"Stay down, Deb. I got this." 

She shut her eyes tight and opened them again. The man grabbed her hair, but she hit his solar plexus with the flat of her hand, surprising him and cutting air from his lungs long enough for her to then continue with a kick in the stomach and another one in his face, effectively making him fall flat on his stomach. The guy whose trachea she had hit had managed to take his breath back. He ran towards Phoenix and tried to grab her hair. He missed and instead grabbed her arm, but she pulled away from him, once, twice, and finally used the momentum to throw a knee at his midsection.  He took the hit and crumbled on his knees. All three of these men were on the floor, reeling from the pain her punches and kicks gave them. 

She then punched the guy several times in the face, hard enough to make his nose bleed, hard enough to make his mouth bleed, and hard enough to make a couple of teeth fall out. She held his neck and squeezed. She wanted to choke him to death. Her eyes were red from unbridled rage. He started to suffocate and asked for forgiveness. She saw Marc's face, and his pleas snapped her out of it, and she released his neck. They were no longer a threat, and Phoenix could turn around and tend to her friend. She grabbed their bags that were on the floor, took out a tampon from Debbie's, and stuck it in her nose to deal with the bleeding. She then stood up and extended her hand to the brunette, who grabbed her hand back. The two women walked to the metro station.  

"You were amazing. I did not know you could fight."

"I got lucky. I did not know what I was doing. All I wanted was to protect you. I am sorry about your nose."

"Aaahhh, don't sweat it. I used to play sports when I was younger, so this is nothing. Thank you for having my back, babes. Thank you for being a sister to me." -She wrapped her arms around Nix's arm and leaned her head against her shoulder- "Can I stay with you tonight? I don't feel like going home alone."

"You did not have to ask. I'll take care of you. Now rest until we're home, okay?"

Debbie did not answer. She had fallen asleep against the young woman. Phoenix looked at her hands, at what she wanted to do to these men. At the rage she felt when she saw Debbie's blood. Her urges were not gone, quite the contrary. She wanted to kill again. Her hands shook, and her eyes were wide open. This time it was Debbie. What if she were acting like this in front of Marc? She refused to even imagine this situation. It filled her eyes with unshed tears, and she looked at her hands, those hands that were now soaked with blood. Panic started to take root in her heart until she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, let her tears run down her cheeks, and exhaled. Marc's gentle hug came to mind, and she told herself that she did not kill these guys like she could have. She chose to let them live. She was no longer the weapon she was raised to be. She was Phoenix, a woman who protected the people she loved. 

-TBC-

windora headcanon: Heartbreak

Heartbreak 💔 : Lux had her heart broken into pieces so many times. Starting with the day she turned into a vampire. Her old life was traumatic, so much so that she doesn't remember a lot of it and avoids any memory that could trigger the rest. She also had her heart broken when her human lover, Paolo, died, murdered by a jealous human. She was so heartbroken that the vampire tried to walk into the sun to die. On a different scale, the reception to her true form by vampires has been a source of pain for Lux. Many consider her to be a runt (half-baked vampire)  or non-orthodox looking ( Claws? a tail? without wings and without horns to complete the look? Bat-fangs, rather than the typical vampire's longer canines?) What many fail to realize it's that her physical appearance comes from the ancient blood that coursed her veins, and that she is a direct descendant of that elder vampire. Even Lux doesn't know about it and simply considers her appearance to be monstrous and disgraceful when presented in public. The other vampires, especially the elders, very often request that she present only as a semi-transformed vampire, with her bat-fangs being the only disgrace they can suffer from her. So she doesn't expect people other than her Sire and brother to actually care about her and see no problem with how she presents herself. She hides that discomfort with a bold attitude, but expects disgust when in full transformation.

Windora trivia: Soothing

Soothing 🥲 : When Lux becomes angry, very few people can actually soothe her. Her anger stems from fear. She usually fears losing her father (or Sire) and brother. She fears their deaths at the hands of his enemies in the royal court. She also fears being rejected, and usually lashes out instead of crying. She would only be calmed by her father's embrace or her brother's quips. When they are not around, and she has to deal with her emotions on her own? Oh, she kills. She breaks her own rules about not going after innocent humans and kills anyone who crosses her path.  When she doesn't kill, she fucks, or she indulges in hedonism and alcohol. It doesn't help her feel better, but at least it can quell the rage and fear. Jake can soothe her if he sings to her. His music truly makes her feel. She has access to emotions she thought were long dead. It would calm her. It would make her cry, maybe. It would make her hope. If Jake hugs her, she would also calm down. If he makes her feel welcomed and accepted, she would be calmer. She dreads the day he sees her as a monster. She dreads the day he will die, too.

What do you mean?

"What do you mean, I love you  too much?"

What do you mean by "you feel suffocated"?

What do you mean by "I put you on too high a pedestal"?

When you kept telling me that my love was welcome. 

When you kept telling me that I was more than enough. 

When you kept telling me that you loved being in my life. 

It stung. It hurt. It fucked me up. 

The whiplash from the change of tune almost made me dizzy. 

One minute you love me, the next you run away from me. 

That got me thinking. 

It is not me. I am not the reason for our end. 

You simply decided that you no longer wanted me in your life. 

You simply decided to put the blame on me. 

Easier to turn me into the reason you feel upset,

While I know that your life is unraveling, and your secrets are being spilled. 

While I know you resent me for keeping a positive mind when everything is breaking down around me.

Easier to turn me into the reason you feel upset,

And to try to trash the bond we once shared. 

And to try to project your self-loathing onto me. 

It stung. It hurt. It fucked me up. 

I wondered if I loved too much and if my relationships were real.

My mind broke for a while, and tears kept on rolling. 

It stung. It hurt. It fucked me up. 

I let your actions blur the truth to me, reshape the way I think of myself. 

I let it affect me when it should not have. It is your bullshit and not mine. 

What do you mean by " I love you too much"?

When you kept telling me the opposite.

When you kept loving me all the same. 

When you kept asking me not to change.

What do you mean by " I love you too much"?

When I know you simply don't love me enough. 

// Vent piece. 

GOT: Private chatter.

After her long trip to Highgarden and its surroundings, the princess finally returned to the Red Keep. As soon as she set foot in the palace, a maestre took her to a royal chamber near the throne room so she could get an official portrait done. That was a first for Baahal, who had never had to pose before. It took some time for the princess to select a pose and even longer for her to get used to the tiresome process. Sitting still was not something she was used to doing. As a dancer, she was accustomed to being in constant motion. She was always expected to move, to perform, to speak, so to sit still for a portrait was difficult for the silver-haired princess.  She shifted on her seat and took a deep sigh. Her hand was slowly becoming numb, so the princess pinched the bridge of her nose and rolled her head. The painter accepted for them to have a break, and the princess finally left her chair to stretch her legs. 

"I can't believe the princess has not ditched Jamie Lannister."

A maid said. Baahal blinked and slowly closed the distance between her and the two maids who were having a little chat while cleaning up a room.  The princess felt her heart beat fast and hard against her ribcage. Should she intervene? Should she say something?? She wanted to. She took a step forward and then decided against it and leaned against the wall. They were talking about her, and specifically about Jaime Lannister. 

"I thought she would have opened her eyes already. He is not suited for her. The whole Lannister family should have hanged at the end of the war."

For a brief moment, Baahal felt insulted. Did they really think that the princess was stupid? Did they really think that she did not know how to defend herself? Did they really think that she was easily manipulated? The lack of faith in her ability to protect herself bothered the princess. She wanted to step in and say something. She wanted to protect the knight and would have if she had not known better. Westeros and King's Landing had their own customs and rules. She could not storm in and act in a way that would cause trouble to the queen. It made her swallow a lump and hold onto the skirt of her dress. 

"Our queen is too generous. I understand why Ser Tyrion was spared. After all, his family wanted nothing to do with him. However, Lady Kyra and Ser Jaime should have died. They will bring nothing but pain to this world." -The young maid almost spat on the floor. Her disdain...No! Her hatred for the Lannisters was proudly on display for her fellow maid to witness. He lifted the right corner of her upper lip and worked her broom faster-

"Oh Seven Hells! I hope you are wrong. I thought that with the death of the Usurper, maybe the Lannisters would stop trying to get on top of others. I thought they would crawl back to the hole they came from." - The other maid matched her energy and shrugged at her own suggestion. She was disappointed in the queen for extending the olive branch to one of the most wretched families of Westeros, but there were rules and rules were made to be followed. The queen had her reasons,s and who were they to criticize her? -

"I don't have anything against Lady Kyra. I heard she was the best of them all, but we never know with bad seeds like the Lannisters... She could become just like Cersei." 

"Oh, by the gods old and new.... I hope the queen won't come to regret her decision. I would be worried sick about my sister if I were her. Jaime will never be able to love anyone else but Cersei. She is sorely mistaken if she believes that Jaime loves her."

Baahal's patience was wearing thin. She wanted to say something, to defend her best friend, Lady Kyra. She could understand the people being hostile towards Jaime Lannister, but why would they be angry at Kyra? If anything, the poor girl was a victim of her family, and it was well-known that the Lannisters were the least favorite of the siblings. It was already a lot to deal with. She already had a lot to deal with, between the lords who refused to be commanded by a woman, but she also had to deal with the fallout of Jaime's actions.  It was unfair, but she had to rein in her feelings. She had to be careful and control her anger. Easier said than done. 

"Yes! I agree with you. I think he simply did not want to die, and he used her. She is so naive, our princess, so kind and just... It hurts me to see her lose her mind over a liar like Ser Jaime."

That was it! She had to say something! Baahal took a deep breath and ended up walking into the room where the two maids were chatting up. She did her best to appease her features and to appear calm and collected. After all, she needed something to drink after so long posing for her portrait. The maids gasped and bowed in front of their princess, worried that she might have heard their little chatter. 

"Excuse me, we are on a break, and I would need to have something to drink. Since it is going to be a long day today, I would like to have some water to drink." 

"Yes, of course. Right away, princess." -They rushed out of the room and  left the princess on her own-

Baahal finally took a deep breath and ran her fingers over her chest. She tried to get herself together and covered her face with her hand. She knew she had to know that Jaime was not loved by the seven kingdoms. He was hated, his reputation destroyed, and the little bit of honor he had left would require some hard work, perhaps the hardest work he would ever have to do. The silver-head knew that she could not expect people to welcome Jaime the way she did. She could not expect them to understand why he did what he did or that Love influenced his very decisions.  They would never understand, not when the wound was still fresh. Not when they could still remember how life was when the Targaryens were ruling the world. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and walked back to the painting room.  It would be a long fight, a tremendous effort of her part to help the people of Westeros, her people, understand why she chose the man. She wanted them to understand how rich and full of love this man was, but she knew that there was a chance this world would never be ready for them. She made her peace with it, but that did not make it easier for her. It did not make it easy at all. 

-TBC-

HUG: The whole world against us

Sara tucked her hair behind her ears. She could not help herself but felt the hard and fast thumping of her heart beat against her ribcage.  Stress... No, fear! She was scared. She knew that dating Homelander was not going to be a walk in the park. It wasn't because of him -That part she had it under control. She was now certain they loved each other so much that he would never dare hurt her. She was scared of the Boys. She knew how unhinged they were and how bloodthirsty, too. There had been news about the assassination of many prominent supes in the political and entertainment world. There had been news of former heroes meeting their deaths, nd rumours flooded the internet about a conspiracy or a supe serial killer roaming freely in the world. There was a lot of information, and Sara did not know what to trust anymore. She had cancelled her next tour, fearing that maybe she would become an easy target. An easy target? To whom? Very few people were aware of her relationship with Homelander. For the whole world, she was just a singer, and a harmless one at that. Her powers had only been used in her shows and never to harm anyone. Who would perceive her as a threat? Maybe not a threat, but leverage...

Leverage against  Homelander. She was to be used as bait, a way for his enemies to force him to do their bidding. It made sense, come to think of it, that they would turn to what was perceived as a weakness to try and force the most powerful man in the sky to bend the knee. Sara loathed that idea. She loathed the idea that anyone would be using her to blackmail Homelander or even defeat him. She loathed the idea that they would use his feelings for her to try and turn him into a begging mess. Should it happen... Should she be kidnapped.... She wished that Homelander would not give in to them. Perhaps, she would not want him to burn the world down -Hello! She wanted to survive-, but she would never be comfortable with the idea of him losing his life or freedom because of her.  So should she be kidnapped... She hoped that Homelander would do his best to save her, and if push comes to shove, she was ready to die--- Pause! That part was not true! Sara did not want to die. She survived all these years with her wit and cunning spirit. She managed to rise on top; it was NOT to be reduced to pulp by some psychopath. She refused to die and would do her best to avoid it. Yet, she chose Homelander... Both the safest choice on Earth if she wanted to survive, but also the worst, since he had a giant target on his back. 

He protected her, showed it several times already, but Sara was still worried that his enemies would find a way to defeat him. She was worried that they would find her and would make her suffer a thousand deaths to get back at him. Revenge... They all wanted to kill her man; Sara was aware of it. They all wanted to destroy him, and if that meant breaking his mind before his body, they would do just that. Ryan was the most precious thing to Homelander, but Ryan was a supe as powerful as he was. No sane man would try to kidnap that kid. No sane man would even come closer to that kid. Especially not now that Ryan had trained and honed his skills better than before.  If not Ryan, then only Sara was left to use and exploit against the blonde supe. Only Sara knew the tender parts of him, the soft and loving parts of that mad man. Only Sara could appease him when no one else could. Only Sara could drive him forward, and if they knew it, she would be able to destroy him. The singer simply could not fall into the hands of his enemies, but how could she recognise them? How could she when the whole world was against them?  The whole world? the whole world!

COLBY: A night with mom

Charlie knocked on her bedroom door with a child's enthusiasm that betrayed his excitement. He had not seen her in a day, and the desire to see her overwhelmed him. He waited for permission to enter the bedroom, and once he got it, the little boy stormed into the room. He laughed and climbed onto the bed to join Mary. The woman put the newspaper she was reading back on the nightstand near the bed and opened her arms to welcome Charlie in a sweet hug. She let her fingers run through his disheveled blonde hair. She leaned against the bed headrest and gently started to rock her body back and forth to soothe the young boy. She knew he had been missing his parents; the poor darling had not seen either of them for a week. Mary had been so busy that she only came home to sleep, and Charlie was already deeply asleep.  Tommy was... Tommy was out of town for business reasons. Mary wasn't stupid; she was well-aware of what that business entailed. She knew that to protect his family, Tom made the choice to keep them out of the loop. Charlie did not know his father was a gangster, and Mary, technically, did not know as well. 

"Mom... I am so happy you came home early. I've missed you."

"I am sorry, baby. I have been very busy, but you were always on my mind, Charlie."

"I know, Mom. Don't worry.  I just wanted to be in your arms and maybe sleep next to you tonight? Would Papa join us?"

"Papa is... busy. He won't be home tonight, so you can sleep with me."

His little squeal made her chuckle, and  Mary gently stroked his head and pressed another kiss to his forehead. She never corrected Charlie when he started to call her mom. He explained that soon after he first uttered the word that he loved his mother in the sky. She would always be his mother, the one who gave birth to him, and the one he loved and would always love. Mary was his mom. The mother he had on Earth. The mother he loved and would always love too. There was no competition in the eyes of this child, only two mothers he loved and cared for. For Mary, the childless mother, his love was a gift, far more important than anything else Life could have given her. She loved him like her own and thanked the Lord for his gift. As Charlie lay under the sheets, she followed him and lay on her side. Her hand gently stroked his bouncy cheek, and she smiled at him. 

"Mom... What do you love about Dad?"

"Why do you want to know?" She asked in a soft voice, with a brow lifted. 

"Because I want to see how you see Dad. I want to know more about him."

It made her smile. Charlie rarely asked questions, even less when it came to his father. From time to time, Mary wondered if he was afraid of his dad. She tried to put herself in his shoes, and although her past was not exactly the same as Charlie's, she thought she could relate to some of his feelings. Tom was not exactly a very open person. He was mysterious, distant, silent... And for a child, this was scary. He wanted to know more about his father, perhaps in a bid to be less afraid of him. So Mary indulged the young boy.

"Fair enough, Charlie. Your dad is a man of few words, but his heart is very big and kind. He loves his family. He works tirelessly to protect us and to ensure we lack nothing. He works very hard to ensure that we won't be in harm's way. Have you noticed the Peaky boys guarding us?" -He nodded- "That is because of your dad. A lot of people want to hurt us, but your dad won't let it happen. He might look cold and distant, but it is because he needs his solitude to think clearly. That doesn't mean he doesn't love us. Quite the contrary, darling. Your dad...Ah...  He is very clever, and I think that was what attracted me to him in the first place. He is so clearly above the rest of the world. Your dad cares so much about you, Charlie. Everything he does, he does it for you."

"Have you tried to have a baby with him?" -His little voice could not hide his worries. Mary noted that he was excited, but she also knew that there was fear hidden in his words.- 

"Listen, my darling, if we ever have a baby, that will never take away the love we have for you. It will only make our family bigger. You will have a sibling, and we will love you both very, very, very much. You will always be my son, Charlie. And you will always be your father's. "

"Thank you, mom."

It seemed to have calmed the child. He heard what he needed to hear. His parents would not forget him just because there would be another child. His father won't turn his back on him because he loved him way too much for that, and despite looking cold and being distant, Tommy was devoted to his family. She was happy to put her child's fear to ease and thought about mentioning it to Tom. She definitely could always say whatever she wanted; Tom had to do his part as Charlie's father. It was his job to reassure his son and to be present in his life. Mary knew that it was not exactly how things worked in their society. Fathers were rarely present in their children's lives. Fathers ended up being estranged from their families, and drama always ensued. 

Mary did not want that for her family. She knew Tommy and his siblings did not have their father's love and presence in their lives. If anything, he was very abusive. Polly Gray raised them, instead, and while Mary was grateful for the woman's presence in their lives, she still did not want Tom to be absent like his father was. She did not want them to repeat the same cycles they suffered. Tom would be a dad, not just a father. She would be a mom, not just a mother. Their children would be happy, far happier than children their age in today's society.  It was easier said than done. Despite her best efforts, Tom was nowhere to be found. He was nowhere to be seen. He did not even place a phone call. She knew he was busy. It's been weeks... months by now, since he left. But she was used to it. He would come back, wouldn't he? If anything happened to him, Arthur would have told her... Or Ada.. Or even Michael ( to gloat).. If anything happened to him..... If anything.... Mary simply pulled Charlie into a hug and wished upon the stars for the safe return of the love of her life. 

Nixus: Freaking out

Phoenix hid in her classroom. She needed a quiet place to gather her thoughts. Today seemed to be harder than expected, a test of her resolve.  Who did she think she was? A former killer pretending to be a good citizen! A former killer, eager to be loved and to love freely.  Someone who had to fight her dark urges every single day.  Phoenix wanted to be the person who chose to do good. She wanted to be the person others would turn to for comfort and help. She wanted to save lives, and she had no idea of how to do that if it did not involve the skills she learned as an assassin. A day like today almost made her feel ridiculous in her attempt to become a better person. 

First, it was that sweet student of hers who was attacked by older teenagers on his way to school. Every day, when he walked past her classroom doors, she noticed his bruised and battered body. He always passed it off as clumsiness, but she was well aware of the nature of his bruises and wounds.  Today, she decided to confront his bullies with words rather than her fists. It went just as she expected, badly. They mocked her and taunted her, and it took all of her willpower not to make them eat concrete. Instead, she gave them a lecture and a warning. She told them that the next time she found a bruise on one of her students, she would replicate it on their bodies. They laughed it off and called her a liar. One of the teens tried to swing at her, but she blocked him so effortlessly that it made him reconsider continuing his assault. The warning worked for the time being, but Phoenix knew that they would get back to bullying that poor boy in no time. This time, she chose peace over violence, but the teacher wasn't so sure about being able to do it again if they pushed their luck.

Then came the second test of the day, a deeper cut, a more personal issue. A simple question asked by a gentle student who went through her first little heartbreak. "Did someone ever break your heart, Miss Phoenix?" It was enough to bring back the memories of the betrayal. She had loved someone a long time ago. In her young mind, only /he/ could actually love her. They were of similar age and went through the same ordeal. Only /he/ could understand her, wasn't it true? Wasn't it true that he faked his death and escaped Hell without her? Wasn't it true that he sold her to the Guild and left her to endure severe punishment? In the end, he simply chose himself rather than love. She noticed her body shaking and decided that it was best to isolate herself rather than subject her student to a meltdown.  As soon as she closed the door of her classroom behind her, Phoenix rushed to her desk. She sat on her chair and put both hands on her face. Her heart was beating fast... way too fast for her liking. Her upper body was shaking, and her hands couldn't stay steady. Her lips were trembling, and tears rolled down her cheeks in an uninterrupted flow. 

The honey-haired beauty still remembered the intense pain she felt when she heard news of her lover's "passing". She still remembered grief washing over her frame, turning her bones cold and her heart into broken glass. She still remembered the scream she let out when she heard the news and how hard it was to breathe. She still remembered the rage that flooded her heart upon hearing the truth from her handlers. Anton did not die; he simply left the Guild after selling her out. She remembered the hatred that put her heart back together and renewed her desire to escape the Guild. And all these emotions came crashing down again. The stress caused by her memories made her cry in that classroom. Her solitude only became heavier in the confines of her classroom. Her mind was wrecked, and she could not think straight. If she could, Phoenix would have told herself that she was not alone, not anymore.  

Marc was there. Marc was there, with his warm and strong arms. Marc was there, with his soothing voice and his intense blue eyes. Marc was there... And if he were in the room with her, he would have helped her center herself. He would have talked to her in a soft voice. He would have stroked her hair, her shoulders, planted kisses on the top of her head, and she would have felt safe. She would have felt... Safe. Right now, her mind was shrouded in panic. She could not think straight because if she did, she would remember that her old life was behind her. She would remember that her heart was at peace when she was in his arms. She would remember that her body had stopped fighting. She would remember that she was loved. Loved.... and safe. 

COPG: Life and Death of Ayasha: Nothing but a coward.

Ayasha, goddess of knowledge, had decided to walk the earth for a while. She was still restless from the day she felt the shift of power in the air. For the first time in a very long time, the goddess realized that her sister, Elpis, had become far more powerful than she had ever been.  She realized that Elpis could overthrow them and seize control of the Prima Donna. What would become of her if Elpis won the war? Surely she would be dead. Elpis was a vengeful goddess, and that much she was certain of. The destruction of the Sumerian Pantheon still resonated within the immortal world. Ayasha did not want to die at the hands of her sister. She knew that  Elpis would make her suffering last far longer than she could bear.  She felt her fingers twitch and sank them into her thighs.  

Ayasha was in disbelief that to be able to walk the mortal realm, she masked her energy. She did everything to ensure that her sister could not locate her.  How did she go from hunting her sister down and being the one looking for her in the mortal world to being the one in hiding? How did it happen?  She lowered her head, her thoughts now just a maelstrom of emotions. She could not form coherent thoughts because they were jammed by her fear. What has she become? A weakling! A fucking coward! The goddess of knowledge felt disgusted by her own cowardice and couldn't pretend anymore. Ayasha was a coward, and she really couldn't face her sister. She loathed that display of weakness and loathed the desire to escape. She needed Elpis to be crushed beyond repair. She needed the whole situation to go away and for herself to survive. After the shift happened, Ayasha painfully came to the conclusion that she was lacking something...

Her confidence.

-TBC-

Colby: Something was off

Mary was sitting at her vanity, her hands holding onto her towel as she dried her hair with it. Her green eyes stared at her reflection for a moment, and she slowly put her towel on her lap and her hands on the vanity. Were they safe? In Tommy's line of work, it was almost a given that they were moving targets. He always had enemies, whether as a Peaky Blinder or as an MP. They could not remain safe for long because Tommy would always have enemies. He would always want to find bigger, stronger, and more vicious than he was. Tommy was seeking death, wasn't he? And the realization made Mary's soft eyes express a deep melancholy. She put the towel on the vanity and dropped her head as she was now holding back some fresh tears.  

One could believe Mary was feeling sorry for herself, but the truth was that Mary was feeling sorry for Tom. After all these years, Tom was still suffering from wounds too deep for Mary to heal. How could she when she did not know most of it? They shared the loss of Grace and the loss of John... And so many other traumatic memories that it would not be right to consider that Mary did not understand how Tom felt. To some extent, she could, but obviously, there were so many things she could not even begin to understand. She lowered her gaze to the vanity and her hands. Her fingers curled into fists, and she chewed at her bottom lip. She could not get through with Tom; that much was true, but she could always try.  

The young headmistress-in-training swallowed a lump and dropped her head further down, and she rested her chin against the back of her hands. Mary knew she was strong. She knew Tommy and his distance and his silence didn't mean that he did not care. She knew that He cared for her deeply, in a way ath screamed love without words. She was his family, the woman he loved and the woman he wanted to protect. There was no doubt in her mind about his feelings. However, there was still a deep seated fear in her heart. She was scared of losing Tom by his own hand.  He could become careless and rush towards danger. He could let himself die - No... No of course not!- She noticed he became more and more forgetful - He always passed it off as being busy- He was paler and his sleep was even worse than before. Something was going on and she had no clue.. 

For now...

-TBC-

Pris: short: I wish we never met.

What would the world look like, Ayasha, had jealousy and ambition not devoured your soul? Would I have been loved properly, like you claimed you did? Would I have never been betrayed by your evil schemes? I wonder, sister, if in this other universe we would have been closer. I wonder, sister. Sometimes, the thought of seeing you again turns my blood into ice because I am scared. Deep down, I know it is fear that still lingers on my skin. How could it not when the culmination of your betrayal literally stabbed me in the heart? How could I not fear the impact of your sweet words on my mind? 

I know you would be very capable of turning my head upside down. I know you are fully able to make me lose the fire that is burning inside of me, and suffocate the agonizing cries for revenge that echo in my heart. Still, I wonder, sister, how sweet life could have been had you loved me. Rest assured, Ayasha, that as soon as this thought forms in my heart, I quickly squash it with extreme prejudice. If I were to be reborn, I wish we had never met. I wish we had never become sisters, and it is enough to fuel my hatred of you and my desire to destroy you with my own hands.

Colby Shorts: Poisonous memories.

Mary swallowed a lump and rubbed her arms together as the chilly wind blew over her. Her green eyes looked in the distance, admiring the beautiful sunset. She woke up with a heartache that lingered until sunset, leaving her perplexed, as there was no apparent reason for her to feel this way. Tommy Shelby was home, after all. He came back and was deeply involved in their little family life. He was giving her his utmost attention in the midst of a hectic couple of months. The brown-haired woman put her hand against her chest and squeezed the fabric between her fingers. Today was a familiar day... And the more she racked her brain to find the answer to her question, the stronger her heartache became. It was a familiar day, so why did she feel melancholic?  It suddenly dawned on her. Today was her wedding day to her ex-husband, Carter. 

She could see herself, frail and heavily pregnant, scared yet hopeful because she was about to marry a man who claimed he loved her. What did she know about love when she was still a child? She was too young to realize that marrying a man twice her age under these circumstances was wrong. She was too young to realize that this man was using her. He was preying on her youth and innocence. He was using her good heart and naivety. A pervert who married a 15-year-old girl he defiled and impregnated when she was just 14. A pervert who doubled as a liar because he pretended he was disabled and unable to work, when the whole time he was just a lazy man. A pervert, a liar, but also a coward who didn't go to war on a false excuse. He didn't tell her about his gang affiliation and the money he owed them. He even ran away from both the delivery and the funeral of the child they had.  How come the memory came back to her after all these years? She dutifully snuffed out any memory she had of her dead husband. How miserable her life was before she met Tom. How miserable she was! 

She grew up thinking she was forsaken by God! How could she not, when the nurses kept repeating nobody wanted her? Her father died at the hands of God. Her mother was the very one who left her at the orphanage, and the nurses? OH, they had to wash the "black" off of her skin. Mary knew that if Tommy knew about these old racist hags at the time, he would have punished them. He would have found a way to protect her from their whips and psychological torture. He would have protected her! Her heart sank in her chest, and she wished she had never gotten married to Carter. She wished she never had to suffer at the hands of that man and instead spent more time by Tom's side. A blink, and suddenly, a couple of tears just ran down her cheek. It snapped her out of her thoughts, and she took a deep breath.  She endured, but she came on top of it. Today, her husband was dead, and all the pain he brought her was behind her. Today, she was safe and loved. Tommy wasn't a man of many words, but he showed his genuine affection with actions. She knew he loved her even if he had never directly said those words. She knew, and that was what truly mattered. Mary smiled through the tears and rubbed her arms together. 

Life was better now that Tom was in her life.

Life was better because Tom was in her life. 

Klasma: A bad encounter

Before handling Elijah, the witch wanted to close her shop. After all, becoming Klaus's companion implied she would never return to Mystic Falls, and she had to give up on the life she used to lead. The witch agreed with the terms. After all, what exactly did she have to protect here? She opened up her shop but never made meaningful connections here. She was, for lack of better words, akin to furniture inside a house.  Well, not exactly.  She still struck an odd friendship with the resident witch: Bonnie Bennet.  The relationship remained superficial, as Bonnie suspected she was a witch, but never received confirmation (and frankly, never had the time to investigate, given how messy her life was). The others only saw her shop as a convenient meeting spot, so leaving would not put them in distress. Nëela was certain they would not even notice that she was gone. 

One of them did. Damon Salvatore. He had always kept his distance from her since she settled in Mystic Falls. He watched Stefan talk to her, out of concern for Elena, but also because he could smell that she was powerful and a supernatural creature. He wanted to assess her threat, but realized over the years that there was nothing to worry about the apothecary at the corner. However, that vanished the day the witch met with Klaus. That day flagged her as more dangerous than she looked for both brothers, and while Stefan tried a direct approach, Damon remained in the darkness to observe her from afar.  He noticed that she remained the same, aloof, not really caring for the Salvatore brothers, unlike the rest of the lot, who seemed to be attracted to them like moths to a flame. She was living her own life, and perhaps that was the bit that really drew Damon towards her. He tailed her one day, when she made herself very pretty and went on a date that never happened with Klaus. Her genuine upset reaction caught him off guard so much that he decided to keep following her.  Did she fall for the monster? Could it be that someone could genuinely love someone who caused so much pain as Klaus? If there was a chance for the Original, maybe there was some for him? 

"Leaving us so soon?" -He walked into the shop, unannounced. It made her gasp, and she turned around to face him-

"So soon? If you knew me, then you'd know I have been around for years. There's nothing for me here, so I'm leaving."

"What a shame! Bonnie really liked this place." 

"She will find another. I've met a very curious vampire a while ago. His name was Stefan Salvatore. I heard there were two brothers, and since you're as curious as he is, I assume you're Damon Salvatore?" -She knew who he was; she saw him interact with Elena and the gang. Of course, it was Damon, and he knew she was bullshiting by pretending not to know who he was. He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. The witch pushed her sunglasses up her nose and lifted a brow. 

"Guilty as charged. I am Damon. I have a question to ask, and I hope you will give me an answer."

"It depends on what you ask, but please, try me."

"I know you're a supernatural creature. I just couldn't figure out what you were. Care to tell me?"

"Will you stop stalking me, Damon?" -She asked, bemused. He lifted both arms and chuckled at her words. Would he? Perhaps he would, perhaps he wouldn't. He was just itching to know what she was and why Klaus seemed to gravitate around her-

"I can promise I will try." -She rolled her eyes and chuckled at his answer.-

Well, if she were to believe all the intel she got from observing Elena and the gang, he was too busy wrapped up in his drama to eventually try to find her again. So she decided to bite the bullet and reveal her true nature to him. Slowly,  the witch removed her glasses, which revealed her closed eyes as she wanted to be dramatic. Damon crossed his arms against his chest and waited for her to open her eyes. The uncanny gold color took him by surprise, and he was left with a clenched jaw and a piercing blue stare full of incomprehension. How could she have eyes like this? They weren't typical of vampires. They weren't even typical of the Originals. The only creature he saw with eyes like these was Klaus, but only because he was a hybrid. He looked at her with eyes wide open and growled at the sight of this little witch's uncanny gaze.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost, Damon. Ahah!" -She laughed and put both hands on her hips- " I am sure that you're wondering what I am, so let me tell you." -She closed the distance between them but stood a couple steps away from him- "I am not a vampire." -She cleared that one question he had- "I'm not a werewolf- "Another option cleared- "I'm not human either" -She grinned- "I am a witch. A cursed witch, so I can't really identify as a witch anymore."

"Then what are you?"

"A cursed soul and a badass!" -She chuckled and put her sunglasses back on her nose.- "Now now, I have given you exactly what you requested from me. You can now leave." -She shrugged-

"What's your deal with Klaus?"

"And why should I answer you? Oh, let me guess, are you afraid that I'm plotting with  Klaus against you?" -She laughed and shook her head- "Lighten up, Damon! Not everything is about your family. I know who Klaus is. We have... History. All I want is to leave Mystic Falls and hopefully never return."

"You didn't like the town, uh?"

"Oi... It's none of your business, Damon. I'm not going after you or Elena and her gang. I'm just trying to get out of here as fast as possible. So let me finish and I'll be out of your hair."

Damon snorted. She had never been in his hair. As a matter of fact, she was never in their business. Damon knew that the witch was minding her own business, always kept to herself, and never made a fuss. She was so discreet that had it not been for Bonnie and her two other friends gravitating around the golden-eyed witch. Still, Damon knew from experience that he couldn't trust anyone, especially not supernatural creatures, because they tended to lie and have ulterior motives.  She was a bit different, brash, genuine, and salty. He realized that she was not lying and had no reason to.  He stroked the tip of his nose and grinned. 

"You're not in my hair, darling. But yes, I'll keep an eye on you. If I see you with Klaus, trying to come at my family and friends, I'll become nasty. You know that, right?"

"And I'll ask you one more time, do you really think that you're the center of the world? I don't care about you and your posse. I don't think Klaus cares either, but I won't speak on his behalf. What I know is that we're getting out of here, and I hope we don't cross paths anymore. Now, shoo!"

Damon gave her a bitter chuckle and slowly but surely walked back. He didn't want to fight because there was no reason for him to try it that night. She was determined to close her shop for good, and she even went as far as to reveal her true nature to him. He couldn't exactly ask her for more than this, so he simply didn't. Instead, he left the shop, now convinced that Nëela was dangerous. Damon was determined to watch her until she left Mystic Falls, and he was certain they would hear more from her simply because she was associating herself with Klaus, and Klaus was trouble.  He was always "trouble".

-TBC- 

Colby: relief and sorrow

"Mary!"

Tom's voice echoed through the bedroom as he watched the young woman shift and turn on their bed. She was nursing a fever from the bullet wound she sustained earlier that night. Nothing went as it should have, and Tom was wracked with guilt upon watching his woman wounded and suffering because of him. He swiftly grabbed her wrist and gently stroked Mary's swollen and calloused hand. The night was supposed to be a good night... How did it take such a dramatic turn?  She mumbled in her sleep, called for Tom's name, and all he could do was hold her hand and tell her that he was there. He would always be there, despite failing to do so that night. 

Arthur invited Mary over to the Garrisson Pub. He knew she needed some distraction and a little bit of fun. Since becoming the chief nurse and Headmistress in training of the Grace Shelby Institute, she spent most of her time advocating and caring for the children in her care. Obviously, with the rise of the fascist party of Great Britain, there had been more attacks against the Institute and more attacks targeting her. It got the attention of Alfie Solomons, who tried to strike a deal with Mary, one she could have taken had she not been under the Peaky Blinders' protection. In exchange for his protection, Alfie wanted Mary to hide his merchandise within the walls of the Institute. She refused, and Tom doubled her protection, but that made it more difficult for her to have a good time. 

Naturally, Arthur thought of something that could help Mary find her good spirits again. Nothing rivaled a good night at the pub, where Mary could sing and dance and listen to loud music without a worry in the world. He owed it to her, after all; she always managed to help him get back on his feet every single time he fucked shit up. As the elder Shelby had planned, the night began well. Mary was on stage, singing and dancing, and forgetting for a moment all the troubles she had faced since joining the family. It felt good! And for Mary, she finally had a little bit of fun during that night out. Things took a dramatic turn, however, when a sudden attack happened. Mary couldn't remember everything clearly. The sound of broken glass, the screams, Arthur throwing himself at her to shield Mary from the bullets raining on them. She remembered being splashed with his warm blood. His body shaking, his blood... oh, his blood that was pouring out of his wounds and that soiled her face, her arms, and clothes. 

She remembered the survivors ran to the next doctor's office to try and get Arthur some help. Mary remembered ordering the survivors around to check themselves for wounds and for those who were the least injured to help her save Arthur's life. A surgery... She worked on the floor, using hot water in a basin, a clean cloth, domestic needles and threads in the lack of anything better, and alcohol to help sterilize wounds and the tools she used on Arthur. She worked for hours, tirelessly, cut her fingers multiple times with the knife, stabbed them with the needle, but it didn't matter. She had to save Arthur. The doctor came in late, but he helped Mary stabilize Arthur's body and wait for the ambulance to come and get the Peaky Blinder to the hospital.  Only when Arthur was taken to the hospital did she realize that Tom had come to the Garrisson Pub, helped in any way he could while assessing the damages, talked to the survivors to see if they could identify those who had attacked the Pub, and kept his mind occupied. 

Only then did she faint, sustaining a bullet wound with the bullet still inside her. Only then did her body react now that the adrenaline was gone. Mary fainted, and then Tom began to worry about another kind of concern. He watched her risk her life to successfully save his brother. He watched her ignore her pain for other lives, but for a brief moment, he was scared of losing her. He couldn't suffer a second loss like that. It reopened old wounds, a trauma that never really healed. How could it heal when he lost Grace, his whole world crumbled? How could it heal when he still had hallucinations of his late wife? Looking down at him whenever he was feeling desperate, just like that night. She was there, in the corner of the room. Grace stared at him with a gaze full of judgment for putting Mary through so much pain and violence. He led a life that ended in Death. How could he expect a second chance at life? What a fool! Tom blinked, and Grace was now at the deathbed of Mary. 

He panicked, ran his thick and calloused hand over his face just to make sure that it wasn't real. His mind interpreted the presence of his late wife as a sign that Mary was dying. He held both hands tighter and mumbled under his breath. He was speaking nonsense, calling for Polly to confirm his wild, erratic thoughts. He was talking about spirits and ancestors, about the veil between the world of the dead and the living, about having to pay for the blood he spilled, and about sparing Mary's life because she was innocent. She suffered enough from the hands of others, and he didn't want her to suffer more. Perhaps she wouldn't have been shot and possibly lost her life if she had not met him. Guilt was wrecking his heart, and before he knew it, Tom's eyes were wet from unshed tears. His fingers were shaking, as if he was afraid that if he wasn't careful, she would die in his hands. Grace's "ghost" shook her head and softly pressed a kiss to Mary's forehead. 

"Tom...." -Mary's faint voice snapped him out of his mind,  Grace's ghost vanished, and Tom focused his attention back on her-

"Mary! You're awake!" -He grabbed the clean cloth, dabbed it on her forehead- "I'm here."

"Tom!... Tom... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." -She was too weak and still feverish, but alive. She tried to sit on the bed, but she couldn't sit down properly. He helped her with his powerful arms and took her hands back into his larger ones.- "How is Arthur?"

"You don't have to apologize, Mary.  Arthur is fine. You saved his life."

"I made you worry, Tom." -Mary replied in a grunt- "I never like it when you are worried because of me."

"You're awake. Everything else doesn't matter." -He dabbed her forehead again and  pressed his lips to the back of her hand for a brief moment- "I'm here, now, and nothing will happen to you ever again."

She nodded, unable to conjure up the words she wanted to say. She didn't know how to tell him that she was scared that night, far more than she thought she would be. She was worried about their enemies coming back for more, worried about him or any other member of the family dying in her arms. She was worried about so many things, but couldn't find the strength to talk to him. Instead, Mary set her green eyes upon Tommy and gave him a soft smile. She would be fine. She would be fine. She would be fine! 

-TBC-