Just finished up the new Changeling model. Lots of fun with the freehanding and blending. Highly recommend the model. Tzeentch in general has plenty of opportunities for color customization and painting challenges.
ok so, lexa is a polo player and clarke is one of those fancy girls who watch the game and clarke develops a crush on lexa when she sees her playing and then stuff happen (my idea finish there sorry ) but anyways thanks for your amazing fics i love you they make me happy
The drinks flowed for hours before the game even started. While the field occupied a large section of the estate, the tents and tables and mingling crowds of people in expensive dresses and hats swarmed around it all around the pitch. It was a sunny day with a handful of the magnificent, fluffy white clouds that took their time to get across the sky.
What it means to be Queen
//Harry Hook x OC// Part One
Harry Hook finds himself at Auradon Prep. As soon as he lays eyes on Clara, daughter of the White Queen and princess of Wonderland, he decides he’s going to break her perfect image
As Clara sat before him, a perfect image of what you’d expect of the White Queen’s daughter, he found her demeanor unnerving. Even after nearly eight years of friendship Ben never quite got use to Clara’s poised behavior.
He remembers that until her met Clara, he had never met or even seen someone from Wonderland, or ‘Underland’. Back then tensions had been high between Wonderland and the rest of Auradon, even more between his father and Clara’s mother.
Her mother had been one of the only royal against the Isle of the Lost when the idea if it was first proposed. She felt is was cruel and inhumane to just leave them on the Isle by themselves, things only got worse when she heard of how they planned to feed the inhabitants of the Isle; with garbage. Tensions only grew when the White Queen heard her sister had, had a son. She wanted for the child to be brought to Wonderland to be raised as he was innocent of his mother’s crimes. She felt the same way when it came to the other children on the Isle but his father, King Adam hadn’t allowed it.
He remembers the day Clara came to Auradon with other Wonderlandian children.
Plot: How about one where while Jerome is being revived,his cult is also busting the reader out of prison,since they worship them both cause they’re both crazy & then maybe she sees Dwight with J’s face,then kidnaps & kills him on TV,J then goes to her??😂
A guard darts toward the cell blocks, but a lanky boy dressed in skimpy clothes with bright makeup gets in the way, their dagger plunging into the guard’s back.
“Ho-ly crap!” Y/N exclaims.
The boy and Y/N both started to speak.
“Who are- “
“Are you- “
Neither of them finished.
The boy regained his composure. “You know, it was hard trying to break into this damn place and trying to find the right cell. I almost grabbed hold of some girl but I found out that she was slouching. You don’t slouch, do you?”
“Some days.” Then came her notorious maniacal laughter. She barks out the laugh until getting serious. “You here to break me out or?”
‘As I mentioned before, the word “occult” simply means “hidden,” and the word “esoteric” means “inner” (its opposite is “exoteric,” the outer appearance of things). These definitions must always be kept in mind by those approaching literature of this kind. The really great occultists, and I think Chumbley belongs in this category, write passages like Russian matryoshka dolls. If you look at the surface of what is written, you are missing what is hidden inside. You need to dig, dig again, and then dig some more. The reasoning behind this sort of thing is not merely to encode it–something that was desperately necessary in the centuries when the Church had the power to execute those who questioned its doctrines–nor to keep it from the eyes of the ‘profane.‘ The fact is occultists are often trying to communicate something incommunicable, or more to the point, something that the reader must seek for himself. Once more, the world of magic is a mirror, and in digging through layers of a passage like this, the reader is looking deeper and deeper into himself. You cannot simply be “told” any meaningful secret…it has to be discovered and earned. My purpose is unpacking this 300-word passage of Chumbley’s is not only to illuminate his philosophy, but to demonstrate to the reader the intricacy of this kind of work.
And so Chumbley has given us a recycled version of the myth of Lucifer, simultaneously drawing us deeper and earlier to the Hebrew “fallen angel” myth that precedes the Christian retelling. In doing so, he has tipped his Gnostic hand. There are at least two deeper levels ahead, but we need to stop a minute and consider the meaning of what we have already discovered. We need to dwell on “Gnostic” for a bit.
“Gnosticism” is an umbrella term for hundreds of sects, but what they all share is an approach to truth if not the same conclusions on what the “truth” is. The Indian subcontinent, which gave rise to some of the richest philosophical and religious traditions in the world, often employs the word yoga when discussing spiritual practices. This is not merely stretching and breathing exercises; in India it is synonymous with “religion.“ In fact, the word yoga is connected to the English “yoke,” both Sanskrit and English being descendants of a common Indo-European tongue. They both mean the same thing; something that “joins” two things together. This is exactly the meaning of “religion,” from the Latin re ligio (to bind two things together; “ligature” comes from the same source).
India recognizes many types of yoga, or religious approaches, three of the most common being bhakti yoga (joining yourself to the divine through love and faith), karma yoga (joining yourself to the divine through good works and proper conduct), and jnaya yoga (joining yourself to the divine through knowledge and direct experience). Historically, the Christian Church in the west decided early on that bhakti was the official method of coming to God, with karma running second. But Christianity has always been uncomfortable with “knowledge,” a word again linguistically related to both the Sanskrit jnaya and the Greek gnosis through those same Indo-European roots. It is a matter of historical record that the Church tried relentlessly to eradicate any knowledge that contradicted its teachings–the Renaissance only could occur after prolonged contact with Islamic civilization, which had preserved classical writings instead of destroying them. The church discouraged seeking direct knowledge of the divine in favor of serving as the sanctioned intermediary between man and God. The Gnostics, as their name implies, rebelled against this. What joins all the various Gnostic sects is the doctrine of initiation, of discovery, of knowledge and personal experience as the road to truth.
We cannot blame the Church entirely for its discomfort with knowledge…it inherited this from the Hebrew priesthood it is modeled upon. In retrospect it was probably Islam’s lack of an institutionalized religious authority that left it more open to knowledge; there was no Islamic church or temple that needed a monopoly on knowledge to justify is existence. Twice in the Hebrew myths connected to this passage we have seen God frown upon “leaks” in heaven’s knowledge monopoly. First in the passage’s reference to Eden and the serpent (the fall of Man caused by eating the fruit of knowledge) and second in its reference to the fall of the Watchers in 1 Enoch (damned for teaching the arts and sciences to men). Ironically, the Church seems to have inherited its “we have all the answers” mentality from the very priesthood that Christ accused of not having all the answers. But the Gnostics were having none of it, and Chumbley is throwing his lot in with theirs.
Which brings us to the part where we must lift the next veil.
Who the heck are these “Elder Gods” Chumbley is talking about?
While many readers are familiar with the story of Lucifer and that of the serpent in Eden, and careful readers of the Bible are aware of the Watchers and their dalliance with the daughters of men, this notion of gods existing before (G)od probably comes out of nowhere to them. Well buckle those seat-belts gentle reader, this is where the real fun begins.
Let’s start with the most obvious. I cannot say with absolute certainty, but I would be more than willing to wager, that Chumbley is sneaking in a reference to H.P. Lovecraft’s fictional brood here. Lovecraft–who was himself a materialist and atheist–wrote weird fiction and horror tales that often included the “Old Ones” or “Elder Gods.“ These were vast and incomprehensible alien beings who reigned over the cosmos long before man evolved, and fell into decline before the first human civilizations appeared. Now they are somehow locked “outside” of our universe, and much of his fiction deals with them trying to get back in. These Elder Gods were purely fictitious, but–as we shall see–reflective of genuine mythological beings. More importantly, they found their way into occultism around the mid-20th century. Anton LaVey–who like modern Chaos Magicians viewed belief as a tool and all gods as symbols–published two rituals dedicated to these Elder Gods. Several other occultists, most notably the anonymous “Simon” and more recently Donald Tyson, have published their own versions of the Necronomicon, a book Lovecraft invented detailing these Old Ones. But the reason I am quite comfortable in linking Chumbley with them is that Chumbley was a member of Kenneth Grant’s British offshoot of Aleister Crowley's Ordo Templi Orientis from 1993-1999. While Grant is a fascinating figure in his own right, what matters here is that he wrote extensively about Lovecraft’s prehistoric gods and included them in his magical teachings. I have no doubt this is how Chumbley comes to incorporate them.
Am I telling you that Chumbley is now talking about fictional entities in his occult teachings? Yes, and no. We need to remember the mask and the mirror, the lies that point to truth. I spoke at length in my article on Qutub on the Qabalistic concept of zero, of nothingness, and the true nature of God (ultimate reality). Basically, the “real” God is by definition ineffable and incomprehensible. Anything less and it could not be God. Yahweh, like all gods, is a human invention, an attempt for the sake of convenience to put a face and a name to that which is nameless and faceless. Yahweh is thus no more real than Lovecraft’s gods; but God being omniversal, these gods can tell us something true about God’s nature just as surely as Yawheh can. In fact, from the Gnostic point of view, the Elder Gods are closer to an accurate conception of God than Yawheh is because Lovecraft’s deities are themselves incomprehensible. By being outside our ability to understand, the Elder Gods are more reflective of real ultimate reality. Further, the Gnostics believed that the “true” God existed outside of the universe, something we touched on in talking about the Azoetia. For them, the universe was far too imperfect to be the handiwork of a perfect being, and thus ascribed Creation to the “Demiurge,” a manifestation of the true God with delusions of grandeur. In their conception, this tyrannical God manufactures the universe and traps humanity within it. Having fashioned the cosmos and shut himself away from the True God, the Demiurge becomes the “jealous” god of the Old Testament, convincing himself he is the one and only god and setting himself up as a despot. The Gnostic path was to escape our prison and return to the True God outside of it. Chumbley is clearly merging Lovecraft’s extra-dimensional deities with the Gnostic one.
Again, he has a sound reason for doing this, but before we get there a moment must be taken to scratch our heads over his cryptic “Those who are without number and yet are numbered as Eight.” The first half should be easy to understand by now; without number is 0, the Qabalistic conception of nothingness. The Eight is a bit more problematic. I will submit three points for your consideration.
It is possible that Chumbley is taking a page from Crowley’s play book, and that this “Eight” is a sly reference to the “infinity” symbol (an 8 on its side). Those who are without number and yet are infinite.
It is possible that Chumbley is nodding his head towards Chaos Magicians, another group he had close contact with (having written for the journal Chaos International). Without getting distracted now–I plan on talking about Chaos Magic in a future entry–it is enough to say now that this school uses Chaos as a way to describe the same idea as the Qabalistic Zero, and that the unofficial but widely used Chaos symbol is an eight-pointed star. We will come back to Chaos at the close of this entry, so keep it in mind.
Or it could be that he means the Qabalistic “Eight.“ Qabalah is another topic that demands an essay (or a hundred essays) unto itself, but to summarize here Qabalah ascribes symbolic meaning to numbers, especially the first ten, which form spheres of experience on a diagram called The Tree of Life. We have already discussed the meaning of zero, but to fully grasp what Chumbley is telling us we need to breeze through the next ten. I will use a model created by Aleister Crowley, the elegant and succinct “Naples Arrangement,” to summarize for you.
After the infinite, indescribable perfection of Qabalistic nothingness, we arrive at One. This is the mathematical point, or Qutub, again. It is the “I” and the “eye,” a mystery we will save for later. The point is the first manifestation of nothingness, positive yet undefinable. It has position but nothing else. It is the number of the Demiurge, the god who thinks it is the first to exist and the source for the rest of the universe (ie numbers). “With the conception of the Universe was the Beginning and the Fall of the One, the One that men have named falsely,“ Chumbley tells us. One thinks it is the first, but Nothing was before it.
"At the side of the One there was the Secret One, the Angel Most High, Emissary of the Elder Gods." Here is the number Two, who Chumbley identifies with the Elder Gods (Zero). Why? The answer again is Crowley, who attempted to reconcile the old mystical question of whether the universe was dualistic, monistic, or nihilistic with an elegant equation. The "dualistic” universe is that wherein God creates the universe but stands outside of it. The monistic universe, most famously seen in the Indian Advaita Vedanta school, postulates that “all is One” and separateness is illusion. The nihilistic school is typified by early Buddhism, and says the nature of the universe is nothingness. This is also the Qablastic position. Crowley stood forward and said “2=0,” that the universe appears dualistic and is simultaneously nihilistic. In short, if all the pairs of opposites in the cosmos are viewed from a distance, everything vanishes into zero. Observer and observed, hot and cold, light and dark…all of the positive “n” plus the negative “n” balance out to 0 (n + -n = 0). It was a cornerstone of his system of Thelema. “One” is leap-frogged over because it is not as perfect as Zero and cannot be defined without Two; “…position does not mean anything at all unless there is something else, some other position with which it can be compared. One has to describe it. The only way to do this is to have another Point, and that means one must invent the number Two…" Here then is Chumbley’s Angel Most High, the number Two that is secretly the true manifestation of Zero and the "Secret One” that the One needs to even exist.
Then comes Three, a number that is necessary for the universe to begin. Two points makes a line, but we cannot even say how long that line is without a third coordinate to measure it. Three gives us the first geometric shape, the Triangle (the circle belongs to Zero), it gives us the synthesis that reconciles thesis and antithesis. It is the child of the Mother and Father.
Four is the manifestation of Matter, a point defined by three coordinates, the birth of the Third Dimension. The first Pythagorean solid, the three sided pyramid, now is possible. Five introduces Motion, and therefore “time." Six is said to be where the Point becomes conscious, able to define itself by position, direction, and form. Now the next three are forms of experience drawn from Indian philosophy, Ananda, Chit, and Sat. These are the things the conscious and manifested point experiences on its journey. Ananda is "bliss” or “sensation,” and is associated with Seven. Sat is “being,” the awareness of existence. That is number 9. But the number 8, which I skipped over briefly, is “Knowledge." And this brings us back to Chumbley’s "Those who are without number and yet are numbered as Eight” and the third possibility.
Knowledge is the union of two points. One point-event experiences another when they collide. If it helps, think of “knowledge” in the Biblical sense. But this is 2=0 again. In knowing each other, two points become one and difference is erased. The third possibility is a very Gnostic one, and ties up our entire discussion neatly. The Eight could be Chaos, it could be Infinity or it could be Knowledge, all of which are expressions of the Qabalistic Zero or how to attain the ultimate reality of the Qabalistic Zero. My suspicion is that it is simultaneously all three.’
(Left) The Dragon-Book of Essex, by Andrew D. Chumbley - Pub 2014.
(Right) Twin-Lions Azoëtia, Sethos edition, by Andrew D. Chumbley - Pub 2003.
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Hey Hollywood, if you ever feel like making a Danger Days movie, I’ve got some script excerpts all ready for you. I included all your favorite cliches and Hollywood-ified it as much as possible. If you like what you see, there’s a lot more where this came from if you slip a few million dollars into my Paypal account. (Email: email@example.com.) Check it out!
[THE GIRL walks into a store. She picks up a can of POWER PUP, then puts it
down again. She browses the shelves, glancing up when she notices that a few
people are watching her. She shakes her head and turns back to the shelves.
Eventually, she walks up to the counter with a few cans of food. Two TEENAGE
BOYS are laughing and joking around near the counter. One wears GOGGLES, while
the other wears SPIKED BOOTS.]
Requested: A one shot where the reader is a magic P.I. and the end up running away from an active crime scene and Graves pursues them, traps them and then holds the charge of the scene.
Requested by: the awesome @anonymousglitchingowl I hope it’s good. It ended up being tweaked a bit by mistake, but I still hope you like it :)
Word Count: 2520
You don’t know how it got to this
How it got this far.
But it did.
After years of working as a
magical P. I. And seeing all the terrors you’d seen, you saw too
much. You’d seen so much and you knew you couldn’t go back…
No matter how hard you tried.
No matter how far you ran.
The magic you’d seen that night
had been evil. It had been dark, cold and unnatural. It had scared
you to your very core and no one understood that. No one understood
what you’d seen or why you decided to turn your back on everything.
The very wizard you knew you
couldn’t outrun. A wizard who’d found out where you were after months
of hiding. Hiding in New York city was difficult to achieve,
especially with the trace Macusa had put on every single person who
worked for them, but you had managed to hide for eight months. Hiding
in plain sight, but tonight was different.
You could see it in the sky, the
way the lightning struck in the sky above you, the dark navy colors
swirling as you stood there. You stand with your hand pressed against
a broken window pane, eyes trained on the sky.
You don’t know how you figured it
out, but you knew you’d been found. It was as if you could feel it in
your bones. Your (e/c) eyes widen when a shaking bang comes from
overhead, your eyes finding the ground in front of you. The old
house you’d found in the oldest neighborhood in New York City had
been your home for a mere two hours, but as you looked around now,
you felt as if you’d been there forever. It was as if time was
standing perfectly still, your eyes seeming to find the faint
silhouette of men and women wearing long trench coats, their wands
showing because of the lit tips.
Your heart seems to skip a beat
at the sight until you hear the faint whisper of his voice. A faint
command that paralyzes you the moment you hear it.
“Close down the area…”
He rasps from a building across
the room, his body emerging from the shadows to the moonlight in one
swift movement. His coat seems to trail behind him like a cape, his
sleek hair catching the light.
I held the pregnancy shakily in my hand alone in the abandoned apartment building we were pushed into by the most recent cop invasion. Leaving us stuck in the very very very very very bad part of Gotham. It was positive. I hadn’t had my period in almost three months now which sounds ridiculous but I dismissed it as the side effects of not eating, there was never any food here. I shivered looking out the nonexistent windows letting in sharp hot sunbeams. He was going to kill me he hated children with a sickening passion. He couldn’t even handle the baby that was crying when he took me (In disguise) to the ice cream parlor for my birthday. He stuck a gun to the mothers head saying with a peachy smile. “I wonder what baby brain ice cream would taste like hmm?” The mother began to scream and we had to run out of there before the cops showed up.
I walked around the floor we lived on along with his many Followers/ servants? I didn’t know what they were. The floor was covered in sleeping bags, bottles and soiled clothes. I bit my finger nail, smiling, thinking of all the times Jerome and I had gotten a little to into each other and Jerome would drag me into a separate room hissing at the other guys “If anyone looks they die” that had an old dusty mattress in the center of the floor. Images of our nights together sent my head into a whirl. The feeling the rush of his pale skin against mine, his rough breathing while he stared protectively into my eyes holding me tightly until we both… exploded. I shook the thoughts away reminding those were the nights that got me into the trouble I am now. I sat down on the beaten floor going through my options. I could tell him and based on his reaction either stay with him and raise the little brat or bail if he has a negative reaction to the news.. which could end up me being dead. I rubbed my little bump of a tummy gulping like the did in the cartoons. I would want my little to at least have a chance in the world. Should I just disappear?
I scrunched my eyebrows knowing he would find my regardless of how far I ran. Also it would be a bummer growing up without a father, at least that’s how my experience of being a bastard felt. Knowing my decision I headed to the opening in the wall that led to the stairs which would take me to the basement where Jerome was lurking. With the pregnancy test tight in my hand I made my way down the stairs. The stairs were cold and damp with bits of broken glass I dodged carefully not wanting to catch the diseases many of these men were carrying. Not Jerome of course he was clean. I blushed again thinking of him smiling his all american but still kind of creepy smile while he draped his arm around my shoulder watching his latest plan of chaos unfold. I hoped this didn’t affect little times like that.
The basement was completely silent when I came down the stairs. All the men had their hands up besides the ones with machine as well as shotguns in their hands Jerome was at the front of all of them with a unfamiliar looking cop in a choke hold, his pistol pressed up against her head. “Jerome let the officer down.” Jim said over the loud speaker. “Or what Jimbo? Are you going to open fire? Noo Hmm let’s see here…”Jerome pretended to think of all the options the cops didn’t have. “Oh that’s right. You’re sitting ducks! What can you do!?” He began laughing even though what he said wasn’t as brilliant as some of his other stuff. I laughed at how cute he was with his wild red hair, beaming green eyes. He was so charming when the police and him were at a stand-off. I twirled the pregnancy test in my hand until suddenly I was pulled away from the group by a strong pair of arms. I screamed at the top of my lungs feeling the familiar chest plate of the GPD’s swat team “Let go of me you pig!” I was taken into a dark room of some sort then when the light reconnected with my eyes I was on the cops side of the stand-off. “ Oh her? take her Jimbo I’m through with her” Jerome said weakly as if it was a poorly executed joke while he craned his head like he didn’t believe what he saw. “You bastard!” I cried at him beginning thrashing up against the police officers until I broke free of his grasp. My body hit the ground and I began to scramble getting up to my feet I tried to make my way to Jerome.
His face was horrified for a reason I couldn’t fathom until I felt myself hit the ground again feeling warm electricity pulse through my body. I tensed up a blood curdling scream until a police officer killed the charge and took out the metal prongs out of my back. A pair of gloved hands carried me back until I was stood up a cop on each side of me. Everything in my body felt shattered, I couldn’t speak of fight all I could do was lay there limply hearing the poisonious words Jerome said. Jerome’s face curled into a snarl as he took out his pocket knife “Drop the knife!” Harvey yelled. As if given permission Jerome slit the offiers throat then holding it to prevent her form bleeding out. All the police officers readied their weapons waiting, hoping for the que so they could blow my angel away. Jerome shook his finger at them smiling furiously at them. “Oh she’s not dead yet ladies and gentlemen.” He suddenly turned to the men behind him yelling. “Bring out the rest my good men!” Out of the darkness three of Jerome’s men brought out three more cops. Jim cussed glaring back at me seeing the pregnancy test still in my hand, he tapped Harvey’s shoulder most likely sharing the news. “Now boys like me!” Jerome said snapping Jim’s attention away. Jerome displayed how the slit the officers throat. The men did so. The officers choked moaning loudly. “Now hold it right by the jugular wouldn’t want these good whole hearted men to die… yet.” He laughed looking directly into my eyes. His face softened which Harvey noticed.
“Harvey don’t” Jim said in an attempt to stop him The big man waltzed over to me ripping both my arms out of the cops hands. “Hey Jerome!” He yelled dragging my a crossed the ground. “See this? You’re going to be a father” He yanked the pregnancy test and waved it through the air then took out his stun gun and jammed it into my stomach. I screamed “No please stop!”. Jerome froze in a vulnerable but was able to mask it when Harvey stopped him little show “My little friend here can stop that.” I dropped to the ground curling up in a ball. “congratulations Harv. Boys give this expecting father a clap.” They all did laughing at the situation not seeing Jerome’s hateful glare. Amoungst the applause Jerome began to stab the officer in the throat over and over again until she flopped down into a puddle of her own blood. “What are you going to name it Harv?”
Jerome casually walked over the the next officer relieving the thug of his duty stabbing the officer in the throat until he fell just as the female police officer did. Jim stepped forward next to Harvey a pained look on his face. “Harvey that’s enough” He growled “Two cops are dead because of you little skit.” Harvey nodded stepped back distraught. “Jerome” Jim addressed him kneeling down besides me gently touching my shoulder. I shook in pain like a pathetic rat dog under his touch. “Are you okay y/n? he asked. I nodded yes “You need to go to the hospital. The shock from the stun gun may have caused serious damage to the baby.” Jerome cleared him throat getting Jim’s attention. “Not on my watch Jimbo” he smiled “Here’s the deal, oh holy one. You give me…” he looked at me concerned but quickly hanged his face when he looked at Jim. “Her and I will give you your precious little boy here” Jerome grabbed the police officers cheeks getting blood on his hands. He wiped it on the dusty ground below waiting or Jim to answer. Jim’s eyes wandered around the clear blue sky for awhile until he turned walking back to the squad car to discuss his options leaving me a pile of pain on the ground. Jerome knowing the police officers attention was averted ushered me to crawl over to him, his face strained with stress. My vision was blurry as I looked him over trying to find the strength to get up in his features I didn’t find it there I found it in thinking of my little’s life it would be born in a hospital then quickly afterwards I would be taken back to Arkham while m little was bounced from home to home. Slowly I made my way unsteadily to my feet creeping towards Jerome. “Hey somebody stop her!” my body froze at Harvey’s voice. My eyes looked to Jerome who was not tin the same spot as before but in front of me pulling me back behind the bleeding police officer.”Jerome?” I said gazing up at his smiling face like it was the first time we had ever met. I thought of that moment as his voice echoed in the background “All right boys kill him and let’s scoot!”
We had met in Arkham when I was first admitted for murdering my alcoholic father. Barbara who had a cell right next to mine took it upon herself to give me a tour of the hospitals facilities, even though at the time we were only allowed to go to the rec. room. One the door was unlocked by the guard she skipped in smiling “Hello all this is my new best friend Y/N isn’t she cute?” She grabbed my hand and led me to the long white table at the back of the room, all eyes were on me at this point making me feel like a caged animal seated at the table she led me to was a fat man with frizzy hair, a skinny nervous looking fellow, a ravishing red head who peered at me never breaking his star and a man I would later know as “Greenwood” who grumbled in his seat. “Oh yes she is” he licked his lips at me. I scowled at him looking back at Barbara who was talking to the ginger. His green eyes were locked on me as she spoke. Interrupting her he spoke “What’s your friends name again?” Barbara looked offended but carried on “Her name is Y/N?’ Jerome smiled sticking out his hand. “I’m Jerome the only man here worth your time” He got up snaking to my side. “Why you here sugar lips?” Softly I touched my finger to my bottom lip wondering if I has something on my face, I didn’t. He smiled seeming to be excited by my actions. “I killed my dad.” I said softly He cradled his head in my right hand raising his eyebrows. “Just your dad?” I nodded “Why?” he said suddenly scooting up so close to me. My breathing quickened becoming nervous at his intensity. II think someone noticed this saying ‘Jerome cut it out’ but I was absorbed in his green eyes causing the grey dull room and all of it’s noise to fade away. “I-I he was a drunk’ I said feeling the release of saying the words that had caused me so much dismay. “And the town bicycle. He loved all women and their sexual assets.. Including me.. he was foul.” My heart quickened as my face blushed with anger. Jerome looked at me, his face softened. Leaning forward he kissed my forehead saying. “Stick with me and nothing bad will happen to you again.” My eyes looked in his eyes, they were wild with some unidentifiable emotion my body moved itself forward placing my lips on his. I could feel him breathe in deeply with.. shock? His heart quickening with every movement..
Now I’m pregnant with his child being carried through dark tunnels until we would reach the other side of the building were multiple stolen cars were parked to take us to the back-up hide-out. A mansion of one of the henchman’s grandparents he so thoughtfully slaughtered. Jerome was laughing hysterically in between words. My mind was foggy crossing between sleep and dream. I saw the sight as we entered through the doors feeling the hot city air hit my face. Jerome set me down on one of the cars looking into my face kissing me suddenly like we hadn’t seen each other in years. His hands dragged themselves through my hair feeling as much as he could before pulling away. “What a trip” he said sadly looking down at my stomach “ I just found out today” I said quickly hoping he wasn’t going to kill me. He nodded slowly looking out at the men that were loading up weapon and such into the vehicles. He cleared his throat “It’s okay” he said uncomfortably then lifted me setting me down in the passengers seat of the car I had been sitting on. He lingered hovering over me in the car kissing my lips. For a minute we sat like that barely moving until he pulled away shutting the door. “Let’s get this show on the road!” He yelled cheerfully to the other guys. I watched him as he said this looking taking in his handsome qualities but quickly away when he opened the driver door. He hopped in smiling widely at me his eyes lit with new life. “Let’s go baby” I smiled back.
Thanks for reading all more to come! Same Bat-Time Same Bat-Channel!