#Bandage Dress London

[sgiandubh]

idk if you’ve watched it yet but in the 10th celebration video, the part where Sam says “we dnt even know when we’ll be released” and Caitríona’s reaction to it had me👀….like the rest of us it seems they too can’t wait for it all to end so they can finally “released” and free from St*rz clutches. But i thought that was interesting thing to take notice of

Dear Reaction Anon,

Of course I watched it. Friday, even. But I have a dinner to plan for Wednesday, my car to sell (plot thickens...), dinners in town and various people to see.... So, sorry for the delayed answer and so incredibly sorry for being also late to the Shipper Feast.

Almost everything has been dissected to death, as it always happens, but I might still throw in my two cents, after all. So, I'll simply relisten to that video as I answer you and hit stop every time something interesting that has not been mentioned in here yet, made me go hmmm, ok?

At the 01:35 mark, S: 'yeah, it was such a whirlwind, you know, I mean, going straight into screentests and then looking for THE Claire, and it took quite a while, and then this one landed in Scotland, you know, weeks before we just started'

Here is her reaction - definitely fed up with this peasant, right?

Also, as a side note, did you notice how emotional S gets every single time babies and domestic scenes are mentioned? For a man who supposedly has no family of his own, that is surely strange.

And then you are so, so right, Anon, this is how she reacted to his 'being in a bubble for ten years and we don't even know when we'll be released what the world looks like' comment:

Did I notice an impish smile? Well, I surely did, Anon - and so did you.

It was a smart move to watch them watch OL. I found it very interesting, lots of clues about their joint dynamic:

She, as always, is leading the pack. He is more reserved and usually takes his cues from her, constantly seeks her approval. Gradually relaxes as she seems to imply the context is 'safe enough' to loosen up a bit. And yes, this is all instinctive, by now. If I knew absolutely nothing about These Two and saw them act and react like this IRL, I would definitely have questions.

And yes, I think he could listen to her talking about WWII medical pamphlets and bandages for days and still never get bored. This guy still lives to make her laugh:

Psst, Anon - see how they hate each other, here? Which really makes me think the 'just promo/fan service' argument is borderline schizophrenic, really - and why is S wooden and clumsy when promoting anything else with ANY OTHER WOMAN in our galaxy, by the way? Also, S and McTavish pretending they were still friends at that MIK event in London was 'just fan service' - this? This is not really that.

And then, oh dear me darling, that photo. I can almost hear two different kinds of 'shiiiiit' reactions, here:

He knows he mustn't slip - as he usually does, she is more like 'shiiiiit, hehehe, see what we've done here'. Logically, then, he brings about that sorry modicum of an excuse 'I've been so jetlagged' (jetlag was actually the least problematic thing, in that pic, ROFL; also, there are two people in that pic, bless your 💖🤣). Followed by the only diversion he could think of: bringing in the 'thousands of people, that was incredible, blah blah' - and then she dutifully chimes in: ' I think we did Hall H...? the big one...?' (strange comments for a pic where one can see two very cozy and scantily dressed people, LOL). Dilute, dilute, dilute. But it's Horowitz reply that interested me the most: ' it's too bad you guys aren't photogenic, even after a long flight, like what a mess you guys look like, there':

He threw a bait, C took it: 'weeelllll...' and then Josh ended it with a simple, smiling 'please' that, in my mind, is on par with KDS' 'believe what you want'.

I also found very telling one of the last remarks by Horowitz, too: ' it's ok, they can't fire you now, it's too late, it's way too late'. Granted, it was about the trivia and allegedly in jest, but really?

And there you have it, Anon. Perhaps it's not much, but as always, I tried to take the road less traveled by. Thanks for giving me the opportunity.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fix You Part 1/10

This story is my new baby. ☺️ Ruben is so vunrable in it, though. 😭

Part 2 and 3 are out on my Patreon for Free!

Summary - Reader is hired as Ruben's assistant nurse after receiving head trauma during a football game. He has fallen into a deep depression on his road to recovery and does not accept much help from Reader as she only reminds him of how incapable he is.

Enjoy!

You wouldn't consider yourself a failed actress. No. If it wasn't such a male dominated and misogynistic industry, perhaps you would have continued your short-lived career as an actress. Instead, you found yourself in the depths of Manchester, looking for jobs in nursing. 

Luckily, you had that to fall back on. Listening to your parents might have spared you the experience of being a struggling artist. So, hats off to them for forcing you to study nursing while pursuing your acting career at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London. Now, the moment has come to utilize your experience in both ahead of the job interview you had as an assistant nurse.

"Y/N, right?" Said a fairly young man. You arrived at the address you had been given, and there he stood, in the doorway to a fancy apartment complex in uptown Manchester City.

"Please, follow me." He said and led you down a hall towards the elevators. On your way up, the young man explained the terms of the job interview, that if you were given the job, your employment would begin with immediate effect. Starting off with you signing an exclusive NDA.

But why would you have to sign an NDA for a nursing gig, you thought. However, as you were invited to a fairly neat residence, it became obvious to you that your employer was a very wealthy man.

"This is Bernadette and João." My and Ruben's parents." Said the young man, introducing you to an older couple. "And this is Max Foster, Ruben's physio." He further introduced you to a man in his forties, quite fit, as most physio tended to be.

"Hello, everyone." You waved, awkwardly, presenting your best winning smile.

"This is Y/N. She's applying for the job as Ruben's assistant nurse."

"I'll bring him out." Said the man named Max, disappearing into the other room.

You were offered some tea while you waited. Ruben's parents seemed quite surprised that you didn't decline the offer. His mother rushed to the kitchen to put water to a boil, but before she could return, Max entered the living room, leading a blindfolded man by the arm.

With a tap on your shoulder, the man that had brought you up to the apartment gestured for you to rise from the couch. "Y/N. Meet Ruben Dias, my brother." He said.

You stood and straightened your dress. "Erm....nice to meet you, Mr Dias."

The man chuckled. "Mr Dias is my dad."

"Ruben, please." His mother hissed. She entered the living room with your tea and a tray of cookies. "Behave, the girl is our guest."

"Yeah, but if she's holding out her hand to greet me like the other ones did, then tell her to fuck off."

You were taken aback. Quite appalled, actually.

"She's not, Ruben." His brother budged in. "So, can we please get on with the interview?"

You noted the tension already lingering in the room, how everyone seemed careful not to upset the blindfolded man. He obviously had a short temper.

"Fine." Ruben sighed and shrugged off his physio's arm, insisting on taking a seat without his help.

You took a seat as well, looking curiously at the man who sat before you. He had dark, untamed hair and a beard that needed trimming. He was also very young, the youngest one in the room after yourself. And the blind fold he wore was actually a bandage wrapped around his head to cover his eyes. You wondered how long he'd have to wear it, as well as the color of his eyes.

"As you've read in the job description...." Ruben's brother continued, taking charge of the interview. "Ruben is in need of an assistant nurse during the six week recovery of his brain surgery."

It was quite sad. In the job description, you were told that you'd be working for a man with severe head trauma following an accident. The damage to his head caused swelling in his brain, along with damages to a nerve that unfortunately affected his eyesight. However, after undergoing surgery, Ruben was expected to make a full recovery.

"He is also in need of assistance when it comes to physical recovery, since Ruben has temporarily lost some of the mobility in his body...."

Ruben's jaw clenched.

"However, that will fall under Max's job description. Your job, Y/N, will be to make sure that Ruben has everything he needs, whether that is medically or just as a helping hand around the house. We, Ruben's family..." He said, gesturing towards his parents. "Don't have the jurisdiction to help Ruben medically. However, we do handle his financial affairs until he is fit and ready to do it himself."

"There." His brother sighed. "Did I miss anything?"

It was a sigh of relief. His brother was clearly not used to being in this position, and neither were Ruben's parents. Perhaps the accident had been traumatizing for all of them, not just Ruben.

"Tell me about yourself?"

You perked up as the question came directly from Ruben and not his older brother.

"Erm...what would you like to know?" You stammered. He seemed to be looking right at you now. Perhaps he could see right through it, the blindfold.

"Anything." He smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile, more of a spiteful one. "Like, why are you even here?"

"Ruben?" His family hissed.

"What? Her resumé stated that she is based in London. I wanna know what she's doing here, in Manchester of all places?"

"Well, the weather is nicer here, no?"

Ruben raised a brow, perhaps surprised by your comeback.

"And even though I'm from London, I guess I've always wanted to experience life in the north. I hear this is where all assholes come to breed."

The room fell silent. Ruben's family looked to have swallowed their tongues, anticipating what was to come. However, Ruben kept his attention towards you, perhaps wondering who sat before him.

You figured that you blew the interview by not keeping your cool. So much for being an actress.

You grabbed your purse and made the motion to stand up when suddenly, Ruben made a quick movement in your direction, grabbing a hold of your wrist, searching for the palm of your hand. "You're hired." He said and shook it firmly.

Part 2 and 3 are out on my Patreon for Free!

[ludoka]

Reflecting on J&H again and how it is very easy for me to imagine reprehensible things that Hyde could have done without going to extremes. (such as homicide and sexual assault)

Sleeping with men and cross-dressing are simple things that I can imagine even a young Jekyll did. The next simplest thing to imagine is his terrible temper and impatience. I don't know but he always gave me the feeling that he was always in a hurry when he didn't have alcohol in his system.

Other things I usually imagine come from the satisfaction one can find in sadism. Or the fun there is in morbidity. Finding fascination in the tares.

Go figure:

Hyde being in a bar where a dispute breaks out. (If he provoked her with an out of place comment or accused another of putting his foot on the waiter who was bringing drinks to the corner table, causing the drink to fall on a temperamental customer... It is very debatable.) He is sitting at the bar enjoying the show when something particularly catches his attention. A man had a knife stuck in his leg. At first glance, and with the good doctor's knowledge of medicine, Hyde determines that it is not something very serious. It is something so harmless that the victim's reaction seems exaggerated, who is writhing in pain and asking for help. Hyde is moved towards the man by a habit forged from years of assisting people who needed a doctor. But before arriving, he picks up a semi-full bottle of alcohol abandoned on a table. It's a bottle of the cheapest alcohol you could get in that bar. Perfect! After all, he's not going to waste his own very expensive alcohol. Much less in one of the scumbags of London. With a smile of anticipation, he assists the wounded man in the most brutal way possible. He pulls out the knife carelessly, pours alcohol into the wound, uses a dirty piece of cloth that he tore from the victim's pants, and presses very hard on the wound. These actions were accompanied by screams and cries of pain from the victim. A symphony that sparked a feeling of bubbling fun in Hyde.

The man, with his face full of snot and tears, twists his face in a gesture filled with anger. Ready to yell at Hyde for his brutality. But the guy stops and his entire being is invaded by raw horror. It is there that the wounded man realizes that he is not being assisted by a human, but by a demon who found amusement in his agony.

Hyde finds insane satisfaction in watching the man's abrupt change of emotions. And it is even more satisfying to know that this wound, if it had been treated with delicacy and patience, could have healed well and left a small mark. But now? That thing will heal in all the wrong ways even if you run to a more qualified doctor. And leaving such an ugly mark on a stranger is very exciting. Although it would also be more entertaining to see what happens if the improvised bandage catches fire due to being soaked in alcohol.

After that incident Hyde takes on the horrible habit of "assisting" the wounded in the most barbaric way he can. From heating a thick-bladed knife to high temperatures to burn a cut that needed to be stitched. Until waiting until the last minute to help a drunk who was choking on his own vomit.

Of course, this is all under the assumption that Jekyll was cruel enough to think of all these things in the first place. How my mother once told me "Sometimes you shouldn't expect the worst from people. Not everyone is that bad." After all, Hyde is a certified jerk but being "evil personified" is more the prejudices of Jekyll and the high society. So if it really is, it is debatable.

[ravencincaide]

When the dead talk

Summary:  Sometimes you wonder whether Dazai seeks you out because of your ability or if there is an obsessive element to your encounters. Either way as long as he keeps his part of the deal, you’ll make the dead talk for him. OR the real reason Dazai is always dirt poor. 

Pairing: Necromancer!reader x  Dazai

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 19: Teeth Brushing 

Warnings: This is a somewhat morbid and contains: Necromancy, toxic-unhealthy relationship, hint at suicide (lets face it, it’s BSD and Dazai!), hint at Odasaku, cursing,  

Polish polish polish bones, grimy bones, dirty bones 

Polish polish human bones, my fair lady

You ran the slim blush over each and every tooth; first the top ones. You paid  extra attention to the canines. Then down the jawline and up to the second row of teeth. There you scrubbed a little harder to brush away the dirt that got in between the crevasse. You changed brushes several times; first the normal toothbrush, then onto a different thin one and then into an even thinner one. Each one able to get more easily into the crooks and gaps. 

Once satisfied you went back to brushing the jawline, focused on removing any of the dirt gathered there before you  flipped the skull over. You did a similar meticulous job of cleaning the underside. Being thorough to remove soil and all the other nastiness from the precious bone. Under your breath, you were humming the tune of “London bridge is falling down”, though you replaced the words of the familiar nursery rhyme with more bone related appealing lyrics. That was until you heard the metal door far above open, while its hinges squealed loudly in protest. The sound made you lose yourself in the made-up lyrics; a groan of annoyance making it past your lips. 

“ Was that really necessary?” you whined as the worn out dress shoes made an irregular tip-tapping sound against the concrete floors. 

“ Still working donna?” was the reply you got instead. The voice was neither warm nor icy, something lukewarm. It grew closer, the steps tipp tapping away until they came up right behind you. A bony bandage-clad hand placed a paper bag with a take away container and some other items beside you. The hand lingered there for a moment longer, waiting until you fully acknowledged the generous gift he brought you. When you didn’t, the hand snapped upwards, grabbed your face and twisted it to the side. 

Face to face with the young devil. 

 “ I told you to be done by the time I arrived.” Dazai’s expression was displeased, raw chewed lips turned downwards into a frown. The hand on your chin tightened; no doubt tomorrow you would wake up with finger-shaped bruises on your skin. 

“ You pay peanuts, you get monkeys” you replied back, meeting his hollow gaze with your unafraid one. Still your hands slowly lowered the skull you worked on onto the table, the gentle clang of bone against metal seemed to snap him back into reality. He gave you another warning look before he shoved your face away from himself.  

You danced away; twirled to the opposite side of the otherwise tiny room and the metal sink placed there. Hands reached for the soap, scrubbed at the dirt and pieces of flesh before running your digits under ice cold water. You were not about to dig into much needed dinner with dirty hands- even you had standards.You held them there until you lost feeling; skin red- almost blue from the cold. Then you turned the water off with your elbow, while you wiped your hands onto a nearby paper towel, Then back you went towards Dazai and the paper bag he had gotten for you. 

“ Awwe Rice on Tea again?” your smile dropped as you opened the half-cold container. “ C’mon really? Even prisoners get more variety than this!” 

Dazai chuckled at your reply, a humorless sound at your choice of words, while his eyes watched your every move with hawk like dedication. Dazai tried to look unbothered, tried to hide the itch in his hand and the frustration which brewed in the pit of his stomach.  “This is plenty in return for your services” he replied stiffly. 

You dug your chopsticks in, twirling the half soggy rice around the plastic bowl. Then brought a grain to your lips. Although tasty the food left you to craving a new blend; “ I bet Port Mafia’d give more” 

“ You’re not cut out for Port Mafia” Dazai growled, his one uncovered eye narrowed. Just daring you to continue this conversation. You knew he wouldn’t kill you- but that did not mean starvation and torture was off the table. “ You're still too weak; its safer here” 

I don’t share.

That was what he was actually saying. The underlying threat right there; care twisted into sadism with you balanced on a thin beam between. One wrong step and begging for mercy would be the least of your worries. Setting the food back down, your eyes shifted onto the rest of the bones beside the human skull you had spent the last few hours cleaning. Your fingers reached out towards the femur and you picked it up with interest “ Can I keep these?” 

“ No.” he answered in a heartbeat. “ Not these ones” 

You frowned and turned to face him. A pout on your lips “ Oh come on, pretty please. I already do so much for you and you get me so little in return” you moved closer, practically in his face.

“ I SAID no!” You tightened your grip on the bone, the brittle thing beginning to crack in your grasp. The sound made Dazai snapp, his hand moved faster than your mind could register. But you knew what he’d do; whenever he got emotional he was so much easier for you to read. 

“ Ahh ahh ahh marvelous, are you gonna shoot me? Let this ugly flesh rot away until my sceletton can join the others, to be feasted on by vermints and rats, or tossed outside as vulture food. Please hurry up, you’re getting me all so excited” you clasped your hands and held them cutely to the right side of your face, tilting your head to the side and giving him long flaps of eyelashes.  The sight might have looked cute- endearing even were it not for the bone covered in dirt and half rotten flesh clasped in between your hands. 

You were flirting with death; literary. 

“ Do that again and I’ll shoot you to pieces, inch by inch” Dazai hissed in warning, nudging the gun closer to your temple. You grinned in response, yet your grin dropped the second he whacked you with the weapon. 

“ Holy fucking shit- ouch!” you yelped as you took a step back, your back hitting the metal table, adding insult to injury. Your head clasped in your hands; part in actual pain and part in a feeble attempt to guilt a softer responsible- a gentle reaction out of him. 

Seeing right through your act, Dazai took a step closer, almost suffocating you with his murderous aura.  The look in his eyes told you, you were going to regret pushing and toying with him. “ How long until you’re done?” Dazai barked, not a sign of the usual softness he’d use whenever he wanted something out of you. 

You were unbothered by it; neither his loudness nor the gun in his hand scared you any longer. You could see that the rage was there to hide the more vulnerable emotion; longing, fear and desire. Human emotion not reserved for the demon protege. 

“ Hmmm about an hour” you answered without even flinching as he slammed his gun against the metal table behind you, right beside the remains, careful of them, less careful of your hand.

“ An hour? I told you to get this finished before I come!” 

“ You pay peanuts, you get monkeys” you repeated a second time, softer this time. You watched the infuriated emotion pass over his face, then saw it twist into something almost gentle. A caring seductive look that did not suit this terrible man. 

“ You disappoint me Bella,” his voice a silky purr, a heart-wrenching sigh; his body in your space again. Arms on either side of you, head bowed to rest on your shoulder. “ I thought you weren’t going to do that” he turned his head to the side, hot breath fanning your neck. 

You barely resisted a shiver, then felt your knees grow weak as his lips landed on your skin, right above your pulse. You could feel his smile as he pressed more open mouth kisses. Making your mind a jumbled mess, your body an involuntary respondent to his advances. 

God this man was a demon; a monster who played you like a flute. 

You gasped, your head thrown back as his teeth nipped at your skin. Your knees shook, growing weaker with every touch; “ ahh h-he is w-waiting in the other room.”

At your words Dazai let out a low hum, finally stopping his assault on your skin. When he pulled back, he wore a smile. The kind of sweet hopeful look that was not reserved for you. 

Never you. 

You felt his finger tap your nose, bringing your mind back to reality. “ Make sure you keep it up for longer this time, and you’ll be well rewarded” Dazai flashed you a smirk and then stepped away from you. There was a slight skip in his step, a humm that wasn’t there before as he moved towards the door on the opposite side of the room; a bottle of whiskey he swiped from the paperbag in one hand and two glasses in another.  

You heard the door open; Dazai’s sing-song voice calling out “Odasaku~” and a less pleased reply before the door slammed shut. Keeping you out locked out of their conversation, yet just close enough that your ability wouldn’t fade. Not like you would be going anywhere; not when his kisses had turned your body to jelly. 

A dirty yet very effective trick. 

But it was okay; as long as Dazai kept his part of the deal, you did not mind making the dead sing for him. 

Author note: An anon asked if i'd be posting more Dazai fics. And my answer is basically this. Another one with unclear dynamic between reader and Dazai but still I hope you enjoyed,

[the-fiction-witch]

Y/n!

Media The Artful Dodgert

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty

Requested : I absolutely love your Jack Dawkins fic, I've just added your Newt fic to my library. You are an absolutely amazing writer.This is also a request for the jack Dawkins fic, as in could you write one where jack is reunited with someone who he knew back in London?? I just think it would be cute and you can do anything you want from there, anything you want haha Thank you for writing xxxx

I sighed finishing up with the ward rolling my sleeves up heading towards the stairwell, 

"Jack. Patient. Room four," Hetty said having come chasing after me, 

"What about them?"

"She's refusing to let Dr Sneed see her." 

I sighed, great last thing I need some little whiner, "Will she let me see her?"

"She says yes." 

"Alright," I sighed heading back down and quickly went to room four, "Hello Miss, Dr Dawkins, I heard you refused Dr Sneeds treatment?" I asked taking her paperwork to see what I was actually dealing with, it wasn't much just a mild head injury nothing worth keeping her in over. 

"He's a snivelling, Pompous Git" her voice said from the bed,  

I admit I chuckled a little, "Well we agree on something." 

"What was your name again?"

"Dawkins. Dr Jack Dawkins." I told her setting her paperwork back and actually looking at her, but- I had a heart attack. 

She sat with her long tight curls against the headboard of the bed, a bandage for her wound around her head, her skin slightly red where she clearly had not yet gotten use to the sun here, a long violet dress been repaired and fixed a hundred times. 

I- I felt like I was in a dream, I could barely beleive my own eyes, I- I was utterly convinced I'd never see her again. 

Y/n. She was a London street girl a year or two older then me, abandoned by her family and forced to make her own way, Much as I was. She didn't run with Fagin, the boys and I. She more made her own way but still we crossed paths. We were pickpockets and petty theives breaching only death it if became nessesary. She... Was The Violet Widow. Known though out London. She'd walk the streets as a evening girl but a man who paid her never got to finish, He would be taken home, stripped, tied, and riden until she had reached her desires then she would kill him, steal his clothes, money, watch and sell what she wouldn't keep or give to us boys. She kept herself nicely I must say, and she even married a few older wealther men taking their name for a few weeks before butching them too taking all that remained and being left as a widow. She lived just down the road from us, and any clothes she thought would she'd pass along, even if she couldn't always feed herself she always tried to feed us too. 

We of course were freindly and we'd both gotten each other out of jams more times then I dare to think. 

And Admittedtly I had spent more nights then I care to remember as a bored excited teenage boy, knoitted with the sheets of her bed, and with her. But she never minded, and she never charged me, and never let any of the other boys near her. 

Last I had heard she had been arrested on her most recent husbands murder charge, but that was only a week or two before I was locked up myself. 

I had greived for her, beloived her hung for her crimes or... atleast locked away somewhere I would never see her. 

Never in my life would I have pictured her, Here in port victoria let alone, here infront of me.

I was... thrilled to see her alive! But also... suspcious. 

"Hi, Dodger." 

Immediately I shut the door, locked it tight, pulled the windows shut and the blinds drawn leaving us in complete darkness and secrecy. Standing catching my breath at the foot of her bed my hands on my waist, 

"Y/n!?"

"Hi,"

"The bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Got into a fight with a card cheat," She sighed adjusting her bandage, 

"No- I don't mean the hospital, I mean Australia!" 

"On my travels..."

"Travels?" I glared, "I'm getting pretty fucking concerned right now, first Fagin shows up like the bloody ghost of Christmas past, and now you! What Oliver bloody twist gonna show up next week!" 

"He what?" She glared,

"What?"

"Fagin! Is here!"

"Yeah. showed up a few weeks back." 

"What the hell is he doing here?" 

"Got himself arrested, sent down here."

"You believe that do you?"

"What choice have I got?" I sighed, "So what are you doing down here?"

"Traveling, making my way around," She shrugged,

"And you want me to believe that do you?"

"Why would I Iie? I didn't know you were here, or Fagin, and yes I'd be pretty damn surprised Oliver Twist showed up too. It's a weird ass coincidence." She explained, 

"Alright," I sighed I did want to see her, I was happy even if I was concerned by this coincidence I couldn't be angry at her, "How's your head?" I asked sitting on her bed a moment to check her over

"Never had any complaints," She giggled 

"I'm serious."

"I thought you'd remember."

"Y/n."

"I feel fine Jack" she smiled, "Are you alright?"

I softened a little all these little jokes reminding me that it is still y/n. "As I can be,"

"Made quite the life for yourself down here. I take it... Dodger's gone?"

"Very much so. They hang escaped convicts here so... Dodger is dead. For all intensive purposes." I told her as I got up to finish her paperwork

"Understandable," she nodded "Dr Dawkins," She playfully smiled, 

"You still just Y/n?" I smiled, 

"Ohh god no uhhhhh... Y/n, Smith, Liswick, Warden, Petrecove, uhhh I'm sure there's a Llyod in there somewhere, I loose track" She said, "But just Y/n."

I smirked a little, "Humm... Still the Violet Widow I take it?"

"I see why you became a doctor, quiet the skills of deduction." she smiled,

"Yeah well I hope you're not here planning to add Dawkins to that lineup,"

"Why? Would it be so bad for... old friends to rekindle old flames now that they're all grown up," She smirked, 

"Don't even think about it." I warn her, "The issue there is I know what you do. and I know what you'll do to me on our wedding night."

"True." She smiled "You're letting me go then?"

"Yep, just keep it clean, and stay out of trouble" I told her, 

"I uhhh Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I only ask because it is you Jack, but do you think you could slip a girl a few coins before you send me away? just for an apple and a place to rest my head tonight," 

"You don't have anywhere to go? Or any money?"

"No."

"How'd you get here then?"

"Spent my last few coins on the boat trip here, figured I'd get a job or earn money my usual way, I haven't even all that lucky yet," 

I felt awful, nowing the girl who use to gived me soup and clothes kept me happy and better off then I ever could have been without her, now had to ask me for money just to rest her head, but... I don't get paid, meerly food and accomodation, What little I had was for me and I'd worked my ass numb at the card table to get it, But... I can't say not to her "I... I think I can."

"I'd pay you back," she said, 

"Yeah, how?"

she stopped short a moment expecting me to say no and she clearly did not actually having an answer, "How I always used to?"

"Yeah?" I smirked a little 

"mhm" she nodded moving her dress and opening her legs 

"...Deal" I smirked crawling into bed with her "I've missed you" I smirked pulling her into a kiss feeling the intensity of our time apart 

"I missed you too Jack," She smirked 

[mercurygray]

꒰ 13 ꒱ “i say this with all the love in my heart, but you look like shit.”

꒰ N ꒱ fondness

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ the corner bed in a hospital ward

for anyone who’s been on your mind lately!

Thanks for the prompt, Addie! I'm taking another opportunity to write more Vivian/Huston - a follow up to the piece from last week.

His affirmations were becoming harder to remember.

Your name is Adam Huston. You are a surgeon with the 96th Bomber Group and you are good at your job.

Yes, good at his job - good at patching men up and putting them back together after they came back home shredded and bleeding. But men weren't planes, and after a while there came a point where patches couldn't - wouldn't - hold. Twenty five missions, twenty eight, thirty. How could you put that man back together? Assuming, that is, that he came back at all. So many of them didn't.

He tried not to say too much in his letters to Vivian, glanced over and around it using only the lightest words. CO's turned me down for leave again - we're still shorthanded. You'll have to enjoy London without me. She wrote back about a dog they'd adopted, new recipes for dinner, the flowers in the estate garden. I'm being reassigned. I'll let you know when I have my new address. I miss you terribly. I miss you awfully. I miss you more than anything. Vivian.

Time in emergency surgery seemed like an everyday occurrence now - his nurses could suture and close as well as anyone he'd gone to medical school with. Easier to deal with them here than try to send them up the chain. In the scrub room he stripped off his gloves and his mask, consigned his bloody smock to the laundry bin. Clean hands and a cup of coffee, and then there was still the ward to check, the casualties from yesterday.

Lieutenant Harris handed him a clipboard as he shrugged into his coat, her nightingale cap and nursing whites immaculate. (Blood was best left elsewhere - in the surgery and on the landing field. White was calm - orderly. White was clean bandages and bedsheets and uniforms. A white coat meant that everything was at peace, even if the man wearing it hardly felt that way. "The new Clubmobile woman's waiting, when you have a minute," she added, when he'd found his pen and checked his appearance in the dressing room mirror. "She stopped by to introduce herself."

"Has someone not told her there's a war on?" Adam asked acidly, giving the jacket one final tweak. "I'll be with her when we're done with rounds, and not before."

His coat was like armor. Put it on and he became someone else - someone actually capable of solving the world's problems. (He'd never worn his coat at Coombe House. It had never really fit.) He worked the ward with his best bonhomie in full force, better in no time, healing wonderfully, arm's never looked better, give the cast two more weeks and you'll be fine.

He was ignoring the woman near the office - the last bed in the ward, and not before. They would all get their full due from him before he met the new woman.

Finally she spoke, and he felt something inside him plummet and fall. "I don't mean to sound disrespectful, Captain, but are you feeling well?"

Adam turned, the voice both sacred and profane and the fondness in it inescapable, and strongly resisted the urge to run and embrace her. (Harris was still on the ward, and there were the patients to think about. Doc Huston, with a girlfriend? The gossip mill would have run off of its chain in excitement.) "Vivian." And here she was - in living flesh and Red Cross Blue, smiling at her own joke. "You - you said you were being reassigned."

"And here I am."

He stared. "You're going… to be here?"

It didn't come out the way he wanted. "I thought you'd be pleased," she said, studying his face for a sign, dropping her voice lower still. "Is it going to be a problem?"

"No," he said, and it sounded like begging to say it. He moved closer, tried to match her tone, resisted the urge yet again to wrap himself around her and never let go. "No, it won't be a problem. Only if I can't get ten minutes alone with you."

"Only ten minutes?" Her tone was light and teasing. "I was hoping for at least an hour. I'm overdue, after you cancelled on London."

His mind filled in the blanks and he smiled, in spite of himself, in spite of everything. "Naughty girl."

"But are you, Adam?" She had returned to her original question - the one that had been a joke. "Feeling well?"

He took a breath and filled in his smile, feeling the weight of the coat at his shoulders. "I'm fine," he said, and almost meant it.

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 1) Chapter Thirteen

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Thirteen: One Hell of a Prince

Summary: Sebastian, (Y/N), and Ciel find a strange prince and his khansama in London.

            “Have you still not apprehended the culprit, Abberline?!” cried Lord Randall as (Y/N), Sebastian, and Ciel walked up to another crime scene of an Englishman being hung upside down naked in the street.

            “I-I am profoundly sorry, sir!” said Abberline.

            “Failing to catch Jack the Ripper, doing nothing but putting feathers in that brat’s cap…” Randall huffed.

            “That brat? Do you mean Ciel Phantomhive?” said Abberline as he looked over case files. “I cannot help but feel he bears some immense burden even though his is still but a child.”

            “A child?” remarked Ciel, leaning over to see Abberline’s files without announcing himself. “A series of incidents targeting those who have returned from India?”

            “Master Ciel!” exclaimed Abberline.

            “It seems there haven’t been any fatalities yet,” said Ciel. He stepped up and took another paper from Randall’s hands. “ ‘Crazy and lazy children, huh?’ ” He read from the statement of the perpetrator. “The culprit’s choice of words is very accurate. I also think this country would be considerably better off without the nouveau riche who cam back from India. At any rate, this mark is…”

            “They’re making fun of us and Her Majesty the Queen!” declared Randall. “The culprit has to be Indian.”

            “Ah, so that’s why I was called out,” said Ciel. “The vast majority of Indians who have been smuggled into the country are situated in the East End underworld society. Scotland Yard still has no idea of the exact number or their precise location, does it? There is no way we can sit idly by while the royal family is slandered. Let’s go, Sebastian, (Y/N).”

            The small group walked along the port to where many suspects might live. As they walked, a man bumped into Ciel.

            “Oh, so painful!” cried the man dramatically as more men surrounded them. “I think one of my ribs has fractured! Damn it, I might die!”

            “This is terrible,” cried another man. “You should get compensation to pay for a doctor!”

            “You better leave us everything you have,” said another voice in the crowd.

            “We seem to have been surrounded by rather loutish thugs,” remarked Sebastian.

            “So unfortunate. We should clear the way,” said (Y/N).

            “Take care of this quickly,” said Ciel.

            “Understood,” said Sebastian.

            “Hey!” The man grabbed Ciel by the collar. “All the Indians around here have a grudge against you English!”

            Which is fair, all things considered, thought (Y/N).

            The man raised a dagger, and Sebastian flicked him in the forehead. The simple motion threw the man to the ground.

            “Are you alright?” asked Sebastian with a smile.

            “Yes,” said Ciel.

            “You bastard,” growled the man. He raised his dagger again.

            “Wait,” said a new voice. Everyone paused as a two well-dressed men, one with purple hair and the other with white, stepped out onto the street. One held a really terrible drawing. “We are looking for someone. Have you seen this person?”

            “What do you want, you bastard?! Don’t interrupt me!” said the thug.

            “Are you having a duel or something?” said the new man brightly. He blinked as he saw (Y/N) and Sebastian beside Ciel. “Oh, he has a khansama with him. Are you one of the English nobles?”

            “And if I am?” said Ciel coldly.

            “In that case, I shall side with my countrymen in this quarrel,” said the young man. He turned to the man following him, the white-haired one, and said, “Agni.”

            “Yes?” said Agni.

            “Defeat them,” said the man.

            “Jo anja,” said Agni dutifully. He began to unwrap his bandaged right hand. “My right hand, blessed by the Gods, shall be wielded for my master.”

            Agni ran at them. Sebastian grabbed Ciel and jumped out of the way, and (Y/N) blocked Agni’s attack, their eyes narrowing as Agni’s inhuman strength, yet he was as human as anyone. Agni adjusted quickly, turning midair, kicking, flipping, and striking with blows faster than the human eye could be. (Y/N)’s reactions were catlike with precision, perfectly timed with his attacks.

            “I’ve hit your vital points several times now,” said Agni. “You should already be paralyzed. How can you still move?” (Y/N) smirked at his confusion.

            “Hey! We were just passing through here!” said Ciel. “It was those men who looked to rob me.”

            “What? You people, did you attack the little one over there for no reason?” asked the purple-haired noble. “That is not right! This time, my countrymen are at fault. Agni, take the little one’s side.”

            That’s how easy it is to change is mind? (Y/N) raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

            “Understood,” said Agni, and in a moment, all the men were lying in a heap on the ground. “It’s taken care of, Prince Soma.”

            “Good,” said Soma. “Well, then, I was in the middle of looking for someone, so I had better be going. See you.” He sighed and turned away with Agni. “English roads are too complicated. Let’s head left next.” And they just…walked away.

            What strange humans, thought (Y/N).

l

            “I’m completely drained,” muttered Ciel once they made it back to the townhouse. “The culprit might have been one of those we saw.”

            “Let us await Lord Randall’s report,” said Sebastian.

            “Young Master, welcome home,” greeted the rest of the servants.

            “If I keep getting called out to London for all these trivial incidents, there’ll be no end to it,” huffed Ciel.

            “Ah! Earl, you really did come!” Lau opened the front door, not caring for decorum or invitations as usual.

            “You’re always so unannounced!” said Ciel. “I keep telling you, if you’re going to visit, at least send a letter or something first.”

            “Have you said that?” Lau’s memory was terrible as always.

            “Since we have a guest now, I shall prepare some tea,” said Sebastian.

            “Fine,” said Ciel.

            “I’d prefer an English Chai blend,” said a familiar voice.

            “Fi—!” Ciel’s eyes widened as he saw Soma and Agni standing in the doorway.

            “Ah, I met them around the corner,” said Lau. “They said they wanted to meet the Earl.”

            “Why are you here?!” cried Ciel.

            “Why? We got acquainted earlier, did we not?” said Soma.

            “Acquainted?” questioned Ciel.

            “And, also, we saved you,” said Soma, walking confidently into the house.

            “Saved?! In what way?!” cried Ciel.

            “In India, hosting for those to whom you are indebted is common sense,” said Soma. “Is it the English way to throw such people out under the cold sky?” He walked upstairs casually to a bedroom.

            “Who are you anyway?!” demanded Ciel as he threw the door open after Soma and Agni.

            “Me?” Soma was lounging happily on the bed. “I am a prince.”

            “A prince?” asked (Y/N). The rest of the servants peeked into the room next to them.

            “This personage is the Bengal Kingdom’s prince, the twenty-sixth son of the King of Bengal, Prince Soma Asman Cadart,” said Agni.

            “I’ll be imposing on you for a while, Little One,” said Soma.

            Presumptuous. He’s going to be an irritating guest, thought (Y/N).

            “Wow! A prince!” exclaimed Finny.

            “A prince!” echoed Mey-Rin.

            “This is the first time I’ve seen a real prince in the flesh!” said Baldroy.

            “You may approach me,” said Soma. The servants crowded Soma with questions.

            “So, you brought your servants with you this time?” remarked Lau.

            “Yes. We have a guard dog to protect the manor while we’re away now,” said Sebastian.

            “Well, that must be a relief,” said Lau.

            “Sebastian, (Y/N), keep an eye on them,” said Ciel.

            “Understood,” said Sebastian.

            “Yes, sir,” said (Y/N).

l

            “Master Ciel, it is time to wake up.”

            Ciel’s eyes opened before jumping in shock. Agni and Soma were in his room.

            “Namaste, Master Ciel,” said Agni, smiling.

            “Why are you in my bedroom?!” cried Ciel.

            “We’re going out, Little One! Show us around!” said Soma brightly, picking up Ciel.

            “Why should I have to?!” demanded Ciel, trying to push out of Soma’s arms. “And I have a proper name! It’s Ciel, not Little One!”

            “Then, Ciel, I ask that you be our guide,” said Soma. “Come!”

            “Sorry to intrude,” said Sebastian, stepping into the room before Soma could run away with Ciel. “But the Young Master has studies and work duties to attend to today to today.”

            “You’ll have to accompany yourselves,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “No, we shall stay and wait for Ciel,” said Soma, smiling as if that was normal.

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched in annoyance.

l

            Sure enough, Soma and Agni were not far behind Ciel as he practiced violin. (Y/N) watched in amusement as Sebastian, in a tutor outfit (which made (Y/N)’s eyes unabashedly roam him), instructed him.

            Ciel played as best he could, and Sebastian listened for imperfections. The melody was interrupted, however, when the sound of prayers began. Agni and Soma had erected a statue of a Hindu goddess and were praying before it.

            “What on earth?” asked Ciel.

            “It seems they’re praying, but that’s a rather fantastic idol, isn’t it?” remarked Lau.

            “I’ve seen Cults. This is reasonable for hu-people,” said (Y/N).

            “All I can see is a statue of a woman carrying a head with a necklace of heads around her neck, dancing on the body of a man,” said Sebastian.

            “She is one of the Hindu gods we worship, the Goddess Kali,” said Agni.

            “Hindi gods, eh?” said Ciel.

            “Kali is the wife of Shiva and a goddess of power,” explained Agni. “In far distant times, a certain demon recklessly challenged her to a fight. Of course, the goddess Kali won. However, after that, unable to quell her destructive urges, she went on a rampage of death and destruction. In a bid to defend the Earth, her husband, the god Shiva, lay down at her feet. Having stepped on her husband with unclean feet, the goddess Kali returned to her senses, and the Earth once again became peaceful. Kali is the great goddess who defeated a demon after a mighty battle. As proof of that, she has the demon’s head in her grasp.”

            “So he says,” said Ciel, glancing back at (Y/N) and Sebastian.

            “To think there was a god as strong as that…” murmured Sebastian. “I will have to be careful if I ever go to India.”

            “I rather liked Egypt when I traveled there,” said (Y/N). They smirked. “I convinced some people to worship me.”

            “Well, then, our prayers are concluded, so let’s go out!” said Soma.

            “As I said, I’m busy!” said Ciel as Soma tried to drag him out again.

            “What are you even doing anyway?” sighed Soma.

            “You’re being distracting. Be quiet!” said Ciel. He picked up his fencing sword. He had practiced violin, now it was fencing. “If you want my attention so badly, then I’ll be your opponent!”

            Soma excitedly took the other sword. “So, if I win against you, you’ll come out with us?”

            “If you can,” said Ciel.

            “Good luck,” said Agni.

            “Well, then, begin!” said Sebastian.

            Agni is going to be beaten, thought (Y/N). He clearly has no idea what he’s doing.

            Sure enough, Agni swung the foil at Ciel’s leg, and it bent.

            “There’s no benefit to hitting the foot with a foil,” remarked Ciel sarcastically.

            Agni parried a few blows and huffed. “That’s unfair! I don’t know the rules!”

            “A match is a match,” said Ciel. “It’s your fault for not knowing.” Ciel had the upper hand and was about to finish the match with a blow to the stomach.

            “My Prince, look out!” Agni intervened. One hand held a cup to block the tip of the fencing foil, and the other struck Ciel’s pressure points, causing his arm to go limp. Agni’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d done. “M-Master Ciel. I’m so sorry. When I thought that His Highness was going to lose, my body moved of its own accord.”

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. Agni seemed to have some honor, even if Soma seemed immature and naïve. They would remain careful around the unnaturally talented human, but they had to admit, he wasn’t the most intolerable mortal they’d met.

            Sebastian noticed (Y/N) observing Agni, and his eyes narrowed.

            Soma laughed. “Agni, you protected me well. I give you my praise! Agni is my khansama and belongs to me. Therefore, the win was mine.”

            “Th-That’s ridiculous!” said Ciel.

            “Oh, dear, Sebastian, it seems like the Young Master’s honor must be defended,” said (Y/N). They smirked and tossed Ciel’s fallen foil to Sebastian.

            He caught it effortlessly. His eyes turned to Agni. Well, he had to prove a point now that the human had gotten (Y/N)’s attention. “Good grief,” he said. He masked himself easily with disdain at Ciel. “This happened because you teased an amateur who doesn’t know the rules.”

            “My fault?!” huffed Ciel.

            “Nevertheless, as a butler of the Phantomhives, now that my master has been injured, I cannot sit by and watch,” declared Sebastian. “All else aside, we’re ten minutes behind schedule.”

            “So, that’s what you’re really irritated about,” muttered Ciel.

            Not even close to correct, thought Sebastian.

            “I will allow a duel,” said Soma. “Agni, in the name of Kali, do not lose!” Agni bowed and took the fencing foil.

            “Sebastian, this is an order! Shut the brat up!” said Ciel.

            “Make this entertaining, you two,” said (Y/N) brightly.

            “Yes, of course,” said Sebastian, smirking.

            “Jo, ajna,” said Agni.

            “Begin,” said (Y/N).

            Agni and Sebastian were instantly in motion. With each thrust and parry, they danced around one another. Both were perfectly matched for the duel with inhuman grace as they fought. (Y/N) watched in fascination. Agni was most definitely human, but his skills were equal to those of Sebastian at the moment. It was truly fascinating to wat

            At the last moment, Agni and Sebastian both thrust their foil’s out, and the tips met. The foil’s bent. They snapped.

            “Oh, my. The foils snapped,” observed Sebastian.

            “The match is a draw,” said (Y/N), blinking in surprise.

            “Ciel’s khansama is pretty good,” said Soma. “Agni is the best fighter in my palace. This is the first time I’ve seen anyone fight on par with him.”

            Ciel walked to Sebastian and (Y/N) and whispered, “Just what is this man? He’s not one of those…” Reapers…

            “No, he’s definitely a human,” said Sebastian.

            “But with that power…He’s a likely suspect for the hangings,” said (Y/N).

            Sebastian nodded. “Indeed. Hanging people would have been an easy task for him…” Perfect. (Y/N) would be wary around him instead of interested in any way.

l

            It seemed that everyone else was having a positive reaction to Agni, as well. When Sebastian and (Y/N) stepped into the kitchen, they expected the usual chaos. Instead, Baldroy, Finny, and Mey-Rin were working well beside Agni.

            “Thanks to everyone’s hard work, it looks like the food will be delicious,” said Agni.

            “This can’t be real,” said (Y/N).

            “Indeed, to have this lot helping you…” Sebastian didn’t have to elaborate.

            “Everyone is born with their own talent,” said Agni. “They have a duty and path laid out for them by the gods. We children of the gods abide by that and do what we can.”

            “You are a most well-rounded individual, aren’t you, Mr. Agni?” said Sebastian.

            “Not at all. Until I met the prince, I was a hopeless fool,” admitted Agni. “I will be forever in his debt. I injured those around me, strayed from the gods, and accumulated many sins. Finally, my day of judgement came. Without leaving any attachment in this world, I would…have died. But Prince Soma gave me a new life. To me, who had not even believed in the gods, who had thrown everything away…A god appeared! Indeed, that day, I saw the holy light of God within the prince.”

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. An interesting mortal.

            “The prince is both my king and my god,” said Agni. “Therefore, I will use this new life to protect the one who gave it to me and grant as many of his wishes as I can.”

            “Interesting,” said (Y/N), cocking their head. “You truly are devoted to him.” They had no loyalty to anyone in that. Well, almost anyone, but as a demon, they had to be ready to let go of attachments at any moment.

            “Yes,” said Agni. He brightened for a moment. “Ah, and I wanted to say something to you, (Y/N).”

            “Yes?” said (Y/N).

            Agni bowed. “I apologize for fighting you when we first met. Had Prince Soma and I known our countrymen were at fault, I would not have attacked.”

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. They put on a smile. “I am perfectly capable of defending myself against you, and you were following your prince’s orders as a servant should.”

            Sebastian’s respect for Agni’s devotion to his master and pure humanity was quickly losing to his desire to throw the man out of the house.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

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@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

[dyns33]

Shielded by the moon

A looooooong Moon Knight story, that I will try to finish with a part 2 even if it will take time.

Y/N had been working for SHIELD for several years, in the section reserved for the study of supernatural and paranormal cases.

There weren't that many.

Most of the time, when an explosion took place somewhere, it was the work of a mad scientist, or an alien. And although aliens were a bit weird, they weren't categorized as paranormal, but extraterrestrial, which was the specialty of another section.

It was all the more complicated to study the phenomena considered as magical because of the interference of those who called themselves the Masters of Mystical Arts, protectors of this world, who jealously guarded their secrets, and intervened in all the incidents that the SHIELD wanted to cover.

So when none of them seemed to move after a guy dressed as a mummy who was immortal and played with the Egyptian sky, Y/N figured it was her chance.

It was harder than she thought.

Normally, Y/N had some sort of gift for these things. Or a curse. Ever since she was born, she had heard certain things. She saw shadows. She had nightmares, about the past, the future, the dead, the gods, many strange things.

This had frightened her parents. This fascinated the doctors. There had been a lot of medications and therapies.

Then Thor came. The aliens. Thanos. And Y/N had finally had hope that she wasn't completely crazy, but that she only had certain predispositions.

When she arived in Egypt, it was too late. All that remained was carnage, and witnesses who had seen a mummy and a winged woman fighting with a group who were trying to take people's hands and killing them randomly.

The mummy and the woman had won, then they were gone. That was the first piece of good news, the person she was looking for might be what SHIELD called a "potential ally, or case to be monitored but not threatening."

He was killing people, but they weren't innocent civilians.

Now she had to find him, to be sure he wasn't a future problem, and to know what he could do, and how he did it. Was it technology, innate or acquired abilities, and did it have anything to do with magic ?

Considering what had happened with the sky, there was little doubt, but Y/N’s bosses wanted proof, not speculation.

It took several weeks before she found a lead in Sweden. A mafia group that trafficked in weapons, precious objects and humans had obviously been targeted by the mummy.

Once again, she arrived a little late, but surveillance cameras allowed her to see the individual. His costume did indeed consist of bandages, but contrary to previous reports, they were black. He seemed more violent too.

It was clear that he knew how to fight, but he didn't really try to parry the blows, as if he didn't feel the pain. A knife was thrust into his chest without his reacting, and the blood disappeared almost immediately.

Y/N was sure of it now, it was magic.

It was even more sure when a huge skeletal bird appeared in the footage.

At least that was what she saw. Because when she sent the tapes to SHIELD, they didn't notice a bird.

It was one of the things only she could see.

Her bosses, and no one really, being aware of her abilities, Y/N apologized, saying that she had written her report quite late, without having slept after taking the plane, and that some remarks were therefore incoherent.

A quick search on birds and Egypt offered her several possibilities for her research. Horus. Thoth. Ra. But adding the criterion of the moon, because it was a symbol that the mummy wore on his costume, Y/N found Khonshu.

God of the moon and vengeance.

Focusing on him, she dreamed of London. The big bird was in London, and there was a good chance the mummy was there too.

No incident having been noted for several months, passers-by having seen a drunk man with a white mask fighting against a bus, then climbing on a roof, Y/N searched for places with the Egyptian god.

It was thus that she entered the museum, and that she met Steven. Steven Grant was the sweetest, loveliest man she had ever met. With his accent and shy smile, he approached her as she gazed at the ancient statues, asking if she had any questions on the subject.

"I'm sorry, is that weird ? I hope it's not weird. I just wanted to help, but maybe I'm disturbing. I've been told before that I talk a lot and that I'm weird, I can let you if you want."

"No, it's fine. Tell me more about Egyptian culture please."

"Really ?!" he wondered with excitement.

Of course, she was there to focus on her mission, and she didn't normally have time to flirt, but Steven had something special. She agreed to follow him into the museum, then give him her number, then have dinner with him in a restaurant.

When she wasn't with him, Y/N kept looking for the mummy and the skeleton bird. She end up finding them by chance, while they were saving a child in a dark alley.

Still not sure there was no danger, and not knowing how to fight, she stayed hidden, but she could hear the loud-talking bird congratulating his "son", Jake.

She now had a name, it was a good start.

Things got complicated the following night, however, as she walked down the street with Steven, forgetting for a few hours why she was here.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Khonshu on a rooftop watching them, and she tried her best to remain calm, wondering if he had seen her the other night.

She still remained calm, kissing Steven and wishing him good night, as they arrived in front of her hotel.

Being a perfect gentleman, he didn't ask her to come upstairs, smiling shyly and replying an adorable "later gators" before leaving.

Then the god followed him.

There was no reason for Khonshu to follow Steven, the kindest man in the world.

With SHIELD resources, it didn't take long for Y/N to find information on Marc Spector. Almost nothing on Steven Grant. He came out of nowhere some months ago. They had the same face. So several possibilities :

Either they were twins, which was unlikely. Either it was one of these aliens who could take on the appearance of someone, or another person who could through magic, technology, or whatever, to take on the appearance of someone. Either it was like in the film with Jason Bourne, and Marc had lost his memory, becoming Steven.

Either Marc Spector has been making fun of her for several weeks now.

But Y/N was a SHIELD agent, and no one could lie that well. Steven seemed like a real person, not a liar.

And above all, there was Jake. Jake was clearly the mummy she was looking for, so what was the connection with Marc and Steven ?

All the answers came slowly, but surely, because as she adored Steven whom she wanted to pamper and protect, it was also the case of several other people, whether he knew it or not.

Y/N met Marc first. One evening, while they were watching a film in the Englishman's apartment, something changed in the air, the body against her stiffened, pulling away, and the look he turned towards her almost made her to shiver. The American accent didn't help.

"I know you work for SHIELD. What do you want ?"

“… Steven ?”

"No. But I imagine you already know that."

"Marc. Marc Spector. So… Was it a role ? A joke ?" she whispered, hurt and disappointed. He seemed to see it.

"Steven adores you. Far too much, he trusts you and he refuses to listen to me when I tell him that you are hiding things and that you don't have good intentions. I want to know why you are here, that can't just be a coincidence."

So Steven existed, in the sense that he was an alter. They shared a body. Nothing magic there. He hadn't pretended, he hadn't approached her because she was looking for the mummy, but it was clear that there was something strange about this story.

"Well… I'm not sure."

"I knew it !" shouted Marc, pointing a finger at the aquarium. "I told you !"

"Actually, I'm investigating some kind of mummy related to the moon."

"… We don't do that. Not anymore, ever again."

"Oh, I know. It's a guy named Jake who wears the suit and kills gangs, following him is part of how I got here, and he's the one I'm looking for. Steven… I didn't know that Steven, or you, had a connection. It was a shock actually."

Marc stared at her for a long time, searching for the lie in her eyes. Especially what she had said about Steven, and about him, because their safety was his priority. He couldn't trust her, she was part of SHIELD, and he didn't like that at all.

But knowing that Khonshu had found a new avatar, and that he was in London, pleased him even less. So he agreed to help her. He would have liked her to leave afterwards, but Steven didn't seem to agree.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Steven. My contract…"

“I understand, love.” smiled the sweet man, with his adorable smile that only a heartless being could resist. "I understand. I didn't say anything about Marc either, so I guess we're even. This bird of misfortune always has to ruin everything, innit ? But I'm still happy that we met. So, what do you know about this Jake ?”

That was the problem, Y/N knew absolutely nothing about Jake. Nor his last name, his appearance, his age, his nationality, nothing. Only that he obeyed a vengeful god and jumped from roof to roof on full moon nights.

They searched together, and each on their own, and it was a moment when she was alone that Y/N found herself in front of the mummy. He was covered in dark bandages, his eyes were glinting, and he had blood on his hands.

"Mentirosa. Vas a arruinarlo todo. Los vas a poner en peligro. debería matarte."

“Hello, Jake.” she said calmly, scanning the surroundings for a place to flee.

"You think you're smart ? Because you know my name ? Como sabes mi nombre ?! Nadie lo sabe ! Hablar alto ! You work for Harrow ? You want to kill us ? You won't touch Marc and Steven !"

"… What ?"

“Mentirosa !” he yelled, throwing a moon-shaped dagger at her, which she narrowly avoided, running towards the brightest street, hoping that someone would be there to… To nothing, because nothing could stop this thing.

Looking behind her, Y/N saw that he wasn't following her. Or she thought so, until she crashed into something, falling to the ground and finding herself in front of Jake, who pointed a new weapon near her face.

It was at this moment that Khonshu appeared.

"Hmm. I know she could be a problem, but she has never hurt the night travelers. Try to scare her, my son. Hurt her if you have to. But killing her wouldn't be fair."

"But she's going to ruin everything !"

"That's not a good reason."

"Yes, listen to the big skeletal bird, please." Y/N sobbed, raising her hands to protect himself.

This surprised them. Jake backed away as if she had just punched him, while the god instead moved closer, very close, not seeming to see that he terrified her, or not caring at all.

"…¿ Ella puede verte ?"

"Fascinating. A prophet. There hasn't been one for centuries. Or they burnt down or end up in an asylum. She's not a danger, my son. She's very important. Prophets are powerful allies."

"… Alright."

So Jake put away his weapon, growling slightly, before making his mask disappear, and Y/N finally understood the link he had with Marc and Steven.

[darlingsfandom]

If it's ok with a kitten x reader

They used to be childhood friends and if kitten didn't do those peep show what if she's a model and reader became a fashion student/ designer . They catch up along with admitted to having feelings for eachother ^~^ no pressure and hope it's not a bother

It’s never a bother honey 💕 always feel free to send me a request ! My inbox is usually always open!

“Son of a bitch!” You jumped a little as the tiny needle poked through your skin making Kitten giggle across the room. You waved your hand a little before throwing the needle into the trash once you got it out of your finger. After getting it cleaned up and bandage Kitten came over to you, lifted your hand and gave it a kiss.

“Ya gotta learn how not to stab yerself.” You rolled your eyes at her and she returned the favor before giving you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. Kitten was your best friend. She had been your friend since you switched to the school because you needed “better direction” in your life. You wanted to be mad but it brought Kitten into your life and for that you couldn’t be more thankful. As the years went by the two of you grew closer, went to parties together, experimented with each other in which she taught you how to kiss and french kiss (that one she taught you in detention for kissing in the first place), the two of you went to your prime together both wearing green dresses that you had designed and she sewed together because god forbid you’d hurt yourself with the sewing machine!

Sadly after graduation the two of slowly lost touch. Kittens a wanderer who makes her own mark on the world while you stayed on your path and somehow ended up in design school in London.

“Alright! I know this is your first show for some of you but no need to be nervous.” Your instructor clapped her hands together before looking around the room “now I do have good news, I did get one the best models out there to agree to do this show but on one condition…. She picks her stylist and designer ! So please help me welcome Miss Saint Kitten.” Everyone was clapping including you but your mind was lost because you haven’t heard that name in years.

“Hello!” The voice rang through your ears, you knew that voice! It was kitten! Your kitten! She stood tall , proud and was now blonde. You couldn’t believe your eyes. She waved a little before her eyes met yours and her jaw dropped as you stood there with your hair pulled back, tape measure draped around your neck all wrapped up in a little red dress. Kitten gathered herself and made her way around the room. People followed her like a lost puppy. She complimented some outfits until she made it to you.

“This one! I’m picking her.” She glanced over her shoulder towards your instructor but your instrcuter made a face.

“Are you sure? She’s not …” “

“How dare you?!? The whole point of going to school is learn something you love and youre going to insult her ? I’ve worn many high fashion labels that don’t even touch this design she’s sketched out! Who’s the super model diva with a nice house hmm? That would be me! So if you don’t mind, I’m picking her or else I’ll take my money and free sponsoring somewhere else hmm?” Kitten sassed back. Still sassy as ever actually and it made you feel so proud. Your instructor closed her mouth, pulled back her shoulders and huffed before walking away while a few others finished clapping Kittens speech.

Kitten grabbed your hand, took your sketch book and walked with you towards a more secluded area.

“Kitten… wow! You look amazing!” You sat down next to her before she set your book down. She pulled you closer until her knee was touching yours. The spark in you was still there! Butterflies still swarmed in your stomach. Your crush on Kitten was alive as ever.

“You look amazing honeybee!” She made the cute joke since she always remembered the time when you two were at lunch in seventh grade and you spilled honey on your lap. Since then you’ve been honeybee but only her honeybee. The nickname made you swell with pride.

“I know it’s been awhile since we’ve talked and I understand why… but I’m so proud of you kitten! You always said you’d make a name for yourself and everyone will know the tale of Saint Kitten.” Your hand rested on her hand, squeezing it gently she looked into your eyes and you could see how filled with love they were. Kitten ran her thumb over your knuckles before she leaned in and pressed her lips against yours.

Sparks bursted in your skin. Your heart raced, your toes curled in your shoes and your hands squeezed onto her arm. Kitten pulled away to look up into your eyes. Her right hand landed on your cheek while her thumb brushed away the tear that was daring to drop down your cheek.

“Why are you crying honeybee?” Her head tilted a little while her voice sounded like it could break.

“I’ve missed you is all…” you looked down at your hand and still couldn’t believe that you were reunited with her.

“That’s all? Honeybee!” She wrapped her arm around you and pulled you close as she could since the two of you were sitting. “I’m not going to let you go again.” She stood up, pulled you up to your feet and put you in her arms. The two of you held onto each other as tight as possible. Her scent intoxicated you all over again. She still smelled the same like she did in high school, a sweet and Smokey mix like an overcooked vanilla mixed with honey. Her chin rested upon your head while her hands rubbed your lower back tracing small circles every now and then since she remembered how much it gave you comfort.

“Please don’t go anywhere again.” You hiccuped against her chest. She pulled away, lifted your head with her hands and made you look into her eyes.

“I am not going anywhere without my girlfriend… I mean honeybee!” She quickly corrected herself but you still heard the word you’ve always wanted to hear.

“Kitten… do you like me?” You bit down on your bottom lip.

“Of course I do you idiot! I’ve been in love with you! I just thought you didn’t like me beyond a friend.” Kitten stroked your hair slowly.

“I’ve been in love with you since our senior year! When you first taught me how to kiss! Everytime we kissed I felt sparks! Any time you’d touch me my heart would skip a beat but honestly I thought you were going to end up with Charlie !”

Kitten let out a little laugh before she shook her head.

“No no honeybee! Charlie and I are close but she’s not into me like that. Plus I told her that I liked you and she told me I should ask you out but…”

“AND YOU DIDNT LISTEN TO HER!” You gave her a playful smack on the arm making her chuckle again. The two of you stood there smiling at each other holding hands with love pouring from each others eyes.

“My honeybee, I’ll never let you fly alone again.” Kitten pulled you into her arms until you were chest to chest and her lips pressed into yours tenderly making you lift your leg a little. She is your Kitten, always had been and always will be.

[ksiondzkanexkiii]

MAYBE YOU'RE NOT A BAD PERSON

Chapter twenty-five

Next chapter (26)

chapter twenty-four

find a story on wattpad/tumblr/Neobook

 

Since the conversation on the rooftop, the Captain and Jinx have almost grown closer. In the morning Jinx woke up in her bed lying in the clothes she wore yesterday, but she had no idea how she found herself in bed, the only rational thought that came to her mind was about the following

She sleepwalked

At least the ground has landed her back in bed and not somewhere on the other side of London

Then she'd be screwed

And then she would cry

Does anything

She herself does not know

And who cares? She contorted her face as this thought possessed her mind like a naughty demon. She slid off the bed and dragged her feet toward the closet door to pull out loose sweatpants, it was Saturday or Sunday so she didn't even have to bother to go to school

Well

School

I wonder when the captain will tell her to go to school claiming that her grief has come to an end. If she felt it at all of course she was sorry that she would no longer be able to talk to Ava

 won't be able to kiss Eric

won't be able to play pranks on siblings

won't be able to help making pranks

will not hear their laughter

Her knees softened as she suddenly sank to the ground making a quiet , "of" her body became weaker as she thought about all this, this devilish fire. She wondered what would have happened if she had checked the house when she smelled the smoke and not listened to Ava, who said it was the house machine that was giving off such a stench. She was foolish to believe her in the end the Rodriguez siblings were drunk

they didn't think soberly in their heads just had alcohol that overshadowed their common sense that Jinx had, she should be the one to lead them and save them from the fire, but she didn't. How stupid she was to believe on the words of drunken teenagers.

She snorted under her breath through her thoughts she might have been mad at herself for not overhearing, but she can't turn back time. Even if she really wanted to.

There was nothing she could do

She dressed in black sweatpants that matched a black strapless shirt on her shoulders also threw on a Hawaiian shirt that she stole from the captain's closet she liked it and the captain did not wear it so she took the opportunity, she got up in a good mood she was even willing to ask the captain to leave the house outside to breathe fresh air

She left the room improving the collar of her shirt with Hawaiian patterns she didn't bother with buttoning up the buttons outside it was warm and she wanted to take advantage of that. She didn't bother with the bandages on her left side today was their last day

The doctor would recommend pulling them off today and letting the wound , "breathe" she could not wait for the moment of pulling them off

- Hey," greeted the captain putting the cups on the table in the living room, when he raised his eyes met the sight of his shirt pointed his finger at it, "is this my shirt? - he asked raising an eyebrow

- Maybe - Jinx shrugged her shoulders still wrestling with the collar of her shirt which stubbornly did not want to go up but kept turning to the left side, the captain approached the teenager and corrected her collar

- We'll talk about it later," he muttered standing over her, when she raised her eyes she met two men sitting on the couch and watching her closely and next to them on the armchair sat Annalise, Jinx furrowed her eyebrows wondering what was going on

Both men sat and looked at her appraisingly which stressed the teenager one of them was older maybe even older than the captain he had brown hair however the graying was immense to the point that only brown patches remained. The man was most likely from Germany or Australia it was hard to tell, but he had a distinctive accent, the mysterious men wore a perfectly pressed shirt tucked behind Jean pants held up by a black belt with a funny buckle, he had his hands on his knees however, when the captain placed the cups on the table the stranger leaned over to grab his drink

He had wrinkles on his forehead and crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, the wrinkles appeared from old age or stress, the captain had the same problem, but he was thirty-one or thirty-five years old she couldn't even remember exactly how many

- My name is Tim Rockford - The older man introduced himself - And this is my partner Seeley Booth - Tim introduced his younger colleague, their age difference may have been as much as twenty years. The elder teaches the young, the master teaches the student. At least, that's what Anoana thought when evaluating the younger man

He was black-skinned his black hair was cut short, but without an interesting pattern on the side of his head. Pity. He was dressed quite elegantly at the same time more casually than Tim, they were partners but with different views, their style of speaking, dressing and walking spoke volumes.

She had not yet seen them take the steps, but she was sure that Tim would walk like a lady in a straight line and Seeley would walk like a real , "tough guy" if you can call him one

- I'm a detective from the police department," Tim continued his monologue, showing his badge, "And Booth is a sergeant from the fire department," Rockford explained, taking a small sip of the drink that Price had prepared earlier Jinx didn't know what was inside the mug, but she could suspect that it was tea, which hadn't even cooled yet, as the detective furrowed his brow as the boiling water burned the inside of his mouth

It probably hurt, but he didn't say anything - Mrs. Riverstream you probably already know - for the first time Seeley spoke up sending the teenager a brief smile to try to calm her nerves with poor results, as the teenager still felt lost in the situation - Why don't you sit down? - he offered as if the Captain's house was his office or interrogation room

However, it made sense at least according to John, he put his hand on the teen's shoulder gently squeezing it. Jinx finally took her blue eyes off the two detectives to look inquiringly at the captain, who gently nodded to tell her that he was next to her, Anoana hesitated for a moment more, but finally hesitantly walked over to the chair where Price had just been sitting

She sat down slowly, unsure of what awaited her and what it was all about. And what the hell should she do?

- You probably have a lot of questions," began Seeley, he had a good approach to difficult youth or just children. He had two young children himself, so he had gained experience - But first we also have questions - he said slowly each word he spoke devilishly slowly

- It's about the fire at the Rodriguez house," Tim interjected to his partner, "We're trying to figure out what happened there," he said as he pulled a small notebook and pen from his pants pocket to write down the words the teenager would say, the teenager looked at the notebook with a raised eyebrow, "If you tell us something we don't already know write it down and then we'll check it," Rockford explained with his accent

- Do you understand that? - finally Annalise spoke with her well-known dryness never believed a teenager would change. Even more so after what she had done and who she had become refusing to know anything other than the person who uses the nickname , "Jinx" Riverstream had never met the real , "Jinx" or experienced the softness of Anoana who is hidden under the nickname , "Jinx"

Defense system

Jinx nodded - Yes, I understand," she muttered not sure whether to say anything further or not, she looked over her shoulder to see if the captain was still in the room or had gone. But he was standing there leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest his gaze studied the two detectives and the social worker finally his gaze fell on Jinx, he nodded again giving her a sign that he wasn't going anywhere

- I thought the hearings were held more... - she fell silent, not knowing what word to use to appear smarter than she looks

- Ustronomical? Private? - prompted Seeley, still looking appraisingly at Anoana who nodded - Well you're right, but your situation is -.

- Complicated - interjected Tim apparently already wanted to start the interrogation, Tim sent a glance in the direction of his partner with a silent command, as Seeley after a moment from his pocket pulled out a small recorder - The conversation will be recorded as long as you do not mind? - asked Rockford rhetorically

- What if he's in the way? - asked Jinx - Yes hypothetically," she added after a moment causing a small snort behind her back, the captain smiled hearing her question and had even more trouble holding in a giggle at Tim's answer

- Then we will record anyway," Tim smiled sarcastically, "Have you known Eric Rodriguez and Ava Rodriguez for a long time? - He asked already moving on to the actual questioning without wasting time with introductions or explanations of unnecessary things

- I got to know them since I went to school for the first time - Jinx leaned forward and her elbows rested on her knees as she played with her hands, everyone might have thought she had already gone through her grief, but that was not the case she still felt the burden of never seeing them again - A few months -.

- Were you close? - asked Seeley still with a calm voice however Jinx heard a note of nervousness in his voice

- We were best friends with Erick constantly playing pranks on his sister and vice versa," Jinx smiled gently as she recalled those moments, "There was not a day when one of the siblings did not play a prank on the other one.

Tim wrote down the information in a notebook - Since you were friends then maybe they told you about their enemies? Maybe someone threatened them? - Asked Rockford, the teenager only shook her head

- No one threatened them and even less had enemies," she shrugged her shoulders, "Or they didn't tell me which I doubt, everyone liked them more or less. They were the reason for smiles in some people," she explained

- Have they had any problems? Financial, with a boyfriend or girlfriend? - asked Booth, Jinx raised her eyes to look at the younger man - Maybe they told you about their exes who have a problem about them breaking up? Or about their crushes whom they rejected," he summarized his question seeing the question written on Jinx's face

Jinx let out a quiet , "Oh" but shrugged her shoulders trying to remember - I was closer to Eric than with Ava, but he told me about Iris - she confessed after a moment of silence, when she finally remembered - I had the impression that he still had feelings for her, because he kept looking at her, but she didn't pay attention to him - she explained, Tim vigorously wrote down this message and would note later to go to Iris

- Iris? - queried Booth they needed a name

- Iris Graves," she replied, "However, he looked at Iris with puppy dog eyes at the same time he looked the same way at Herrera," she added after a moment of thoughtfulness, recalling the last time Eric mounted the

- Victoria Herrera? - inquired Rockford noting down Herrera's name again they had already questioned her once, but she never mentioned that Eric might have had feelings for her and that could have given them motive

Jealous boyfriend gets rid of competition

Stalker who defends his victim whom he stalks

These were two of the few motives that appeared in the minds of the detectives when they looked at each other with the same ideas and words in their heads - Yes, Vic," confirmed Jinx, "The relationship between him and Iris was a touchy one for him as was the relationship with Herrera, when I wanted to find out more to tease him he started to be unkind to me," she explained without knowing the connection to this

The detectives nodded their heads in agreement - Did you know Ava was using drugs? - asked the arson detective looking at Jinx turning her head slightly to the side to get a better look at her, Jinx raised her eyebrows thinking they were joking she was more inclined to say it was Eric who was taking, but she left it to herself

A wave of shock and then confusion passed across her face this was enough for Seeley to understand that she did not know even if she did not manage to utter a word - N-No, I did not know - Jinx almost whispered it her courage in her voice was lost somewhere

- You have an interesting and heavy file," Seeley muttered, "You're probably not proud of it, but we have to ask if you were the one who brought drugs into Ava's life? - He asked raising his eyebrows while watching Anoana's reaction closely

Anoana at first did not know what to answer another accusation in her direction? She would not have the strength to defend that she had been brought to the right path, at least she tried to be good. The influence of the captainodź a small one made her herself crave for changeodź her mind was still trying to return to her old habits. At least she returned to one, which she is not proud of either

But smoking cigarettes gave her some inner peace

- Jinx does not take drugs or smoke," he spoke up behind the teenager's back, "She watches this," the captain defended the teenager from this question, knowing that the teenager decided to change of her own free will, not much he had to fight to do. Some factor made her want to do it on her own, however, he had yet to find the answer to this question that was simmering in his head

What factor made Anoana herself want to change and why she trusted him enough to tell him her real name and briefly tell her story

- I see," said Tim, "Let's move on to the day of the fire," he sighed, not liking to explain teenage murder cases much less children, "What time did you show up at the party? - he asked

- I don't remember," muttered the teenager remembered little of the entrance to the party perhaps due to the stress that was then swimming through the teenager's veins, Jinx looked over her shoulder seeking help from the captain, who did not refuse to give her a helpful word

- I was supposed to take her around 8 pm to Rodriguez, but we were about two hours late," he explained, saving the teenager from this question, Tim nodded his head as a sign of understanding

- Why are you late? - This time it was Seeley who took the baton of asking questions again, Tim and Booth exchanged the baton that asked the questions

- I didn't know what to wear," she explained calmly, "The captain had the idea to go to the store and see for new clothes," she smiled gently at this memory she was grateful to the captain for paying for her dress even if it had suffered in the fire

- So you showed up at the Rodriguez house around two o'clock? - Tim inquired, Jinx muttered

- I think so, but I'm not sure I didn't check the time on my watch with Price agreed that I would be there by midnight at the latest," she explained, the two detectives looked at the captain looking for confirmation, which followed a nod confirming the teenager's words

- And the fire didn't happen after twenty-four by any chance? - asked Annalise skeptically for the second time after the start of the meeting - Were you not supposed to be there then? - she asked again, looking for some loophole in which she could again put Jinx in the reformatory with a note of , "not repairable" or , "lost cause"

The detectives looked at each other - Actually," muttered Rockford, skipping back a few pages in his notebook to check the information, "The fire broke out at twenty-four forty," he said and his fingers deftly returned again to the page on which he had been jotting down notes, "If you could have been there by twenty-four, what were you doing there at almost one in the morning? - he inquired

John could have explained it, but before he did he wanted the teenager to tell her version - I had agreed with the captain that when he was going to honk," she explained, "That's why when the agreed time was approaching I sat in the kitchen, because there it was relatively quieter and I would have heard the car honking, by the way there was the only free window to the street - she continued her explanation

- I extended my mission, we raided one of the cartel outposts. A drug raid," the captain added, explaining his tardiness, "When we finished I just got a call from the fire department that Rodriguez's house was on fire and Jinx was unconscious, then I arrived as soon as I could. My sergeant can confirm this," he added after a while, giving a full picture of the situation while not saying too much because he couldn't tell most of it because it was a secret military operation.

Tim nodded understanding - You say you were in the kitchen there was someone with you to be able to confirm this? - He finally asked looking at the teenager taking his eyes off his notebook, still loosely holding the pen in his hand

- A lot of people would go in to pour themselves alcohol or there to get groped before settling into their bedrooms," she squirmed at the memory, "I didn't talk to people at that party, I don't even know if they noticed I was there," she shrugged her shoulders as she leaned her back to rest it against the back of the soft chair

- You must have talked to someone if you sat there for so many hours," Seeley said, hoping that she would answer and not hide behind the words "I don't remember" or "I don't know." He understood that many victims don't remember much about the attack they suffered, but he hoped that the teenager would remember more than a normal civilian because she herself was a witness to the crime and has a large criminal record.

So she knew how to deal with the stress of the attacks however, she was never as a victim, but was as an attacker

- I was alone in the kitchen drinking raspberry juice, soon Eric joined me and then Ava. We were talking," she explained shrugging her shoulders as if it was no big deal just a simple conversation with best friends

 - And then you went to the living room to dance? - Booth asked, glancing at Tim's notes. Jinx furrowed her brow and shook her head at this statement

- I was talking to them in the kitchen they asked how I liked the party, I was still in the kitchen when I smelled smoke - she paused to take a breath, she felt the weight of guilt on her shoulders, even though she had done nothing - Ava said that it was probably the smoke machine broke down again and smells from it, but nothing threatens us - she continued to explain, but the memories of this blurred and whitened

When she continued to tell the story she felt like she was making up a story because nothing was sticking and she couldn't remember if she went to the living room dancing, but she was sure she didn't, "In the end I started getting weak and passed out," she explained.

Tim and Seeley looked at each other with furrowed brows, Jinx began to get restless she looked over her shoulder at the captain looking for an explanation of what was going on.

And what the hell is going on?

The teenager didn't understand this, the captain didn't know what was going through the detectives' heads something didn't seem right to them, but they hadn't said it out loud yet. Price took a few steps closer to the teenager to put his hand on her shoulder he knew that the trauma of the fire might be in her head maybe not showing itself too much, but he knew that there it was hidden in the darkest corner just waiting to explode

- Is something wrong? - inquired the teenager furrowed her eyebrows, which almost merged into one line and her forehead was furrowed

- The firefighters found you in the living room," they explained after a moment of the nervous atmosphere they had brought on after carrying on the dialogue with their eyes not saying a word, Jinx almost mocked their remark

- The whole time I was in the kitchen with Ava and Eric," she said, "I saw them fall unconscious next to me," she said these words more aggressively than she intended, "Besides, what is this all about? You are interrogating me almost two weeks after the fire - she became indignant, irritated a little more and veins would pop out on her forehead

- We had to question others at the party there were at least two hundred people inside as well as in the garden of the Rodriguez house," explained Seeley and Tim sent him a chastising look saying , "Don't tell her" because Rockford feared that Booth would reveal why they had started investigating

- And I was the last one because I have the blackest past? - She asked raising an eyebrow, Tim unscrupulously nodded his head confirming her claim

- We need to determine how the fire started and from what," explained Tim, "The criminal division joined this investigation for the fact that Eric and Ava died during the fire," explained Rockford explaining as much as he could, some words and facts had to be kept secret for the sake of the case.

The matter began to get complicated and Jinx did not know what to think about it - So you suspect me? - she raised an eyebrow knowing the answer to this question, but she wanted to hear it from their lips

- Of course you are suspicious - Annalise almost mocked the teenager's reaction - You were the only one there with such a rich file, I don't even know how Mr. Price agreed to party and leave you there unattended - she added after a while looking sternly at the captain - He shouldn't have let you maybe if you hadn't shown up there maybe Eric and Ava would be alive they were good kids - she sighed sadly, at the same time she sighed to get a fresh breath of air after speaking on one exhale in her squeaky tone

Anoana furrowed her brow considering what Annalise had said, was it even true? The truth was that Riverstream must have had a big dick, since she said her accusations out loud in front of the detectives, who could have easily cuffed her for it but they didn't comment anything. Jinx did nothing during the event and she was the only one who knew about it

Because she was the only one at the event

Annalise, Tim, Seeley and John were not at the party at the time they were working alone or relaxing after their work maybe even playing with their children or mumbling to their wives or husbands how much they missed them during their shift and how much they thought about them at the time a real horror story was happening in Anoana's life

Booth sighed heavily - We can't rule you out, anyone who was at the party is a suspect," explained Seeley without spurning or straightening out what the social worker said it was as if it suited him. What offended Jinx immeasurably from all this anger her already red cheeks became even redder spreading the blush even to her ears and forehead and her freckles hid under the red cloak of blush

- Well, you must be mocking me," muttered the teenager and the captain gently snapped her in the back of the head to watch her words sent her a communicative look

- Don't you remember how you got into the living room? - questioned Rockford - Or maybe you set the fire in the kitchen, but Eric and Ava covered you so you hit them in the back of the head to make them unconscious and you could have escaped only to be poisoned by the smoke - Rockford speculated which irritated the teenager even more

She did nothing, nothing! She just sat in the kitchen and sipped stupid raspberry juice or orange juice she no longer remembered herself. But she was in the kitchen going nowhere she couldn't talk to her peers at the party

Either they talked about the drugs they ineptly took or the guys wanted to , "pick her up" and in fact just drag her to bed for one night to later brag to a friend that they slept with another chick, which they added to the collection called , "overgrown chicks" or , "whores" however brutally they would call it

- Eric and Ava were my friends I wouldn't kill them - Jinx almost growled offended by what Tim accused, the detectives were testing her for the time being the teenager failed the test - Besides, I've never killed a human being and never will," she said almost in a whisper after a moment of silence in which she had to rethink her words

Seeley sighed heavily, knowing that they had annoyed the teenager too much to continue asking her about the details of the fire, so he decided to let the subject go, "That's all," he muttered finally, too nothing new was learned, "Thank you for your answers," he confessed after a moment, slowly getting up from the couch and his bones shot up

- Oh, the old age of joy," giggled Tim as he heard his partner's bones skip to the right place and Seeley giggled, after a moment Rockford took a small card from his pocket and handed it to the teenager, "If you are reminded of anything call this number," he explained handing Jinx his business card and handing the other to Captain

- I'll walk you out - Offered the captain as a decent housekeeper always had to escort guests to the door of his apartment, he followed a group of people consisting of Riverstream, Booth, Rockford. When he was sure that they had moved far enough away from Jinx so that the teenager did not hear - Do not be offended by Jinx's words - he muttered quietly

Even if he knew that the teenager was not eavesdropping he preferred to remain discreet - She has not yet experienced mourning," he whispered, looking at Tim the chief investigator of this case of arson of the Rodriguez house

- We know how it is, Captain," said Tim raising his hand to calm the captain's nerves which were already calm for the situation that had just happened, "We've handled a lot of cases, we're used to civilians not trusting us or shouting at us," he confessed, putting the notebook in his pocket, "Jinx somehow behaved differently after the fire? Any signs of aggressiveness or anything else? - he asked after a moment of silence everyone wondered what to say

The captain only shook his head - She only shut down more for two maybe four days she didn't leave the room - he explained shrugging his shoulders and tucked his thumbs behind his belt - She would go to the toilet or get food or drink, she avoided me - Price continued, recalling the first week after the death of the Rodriguez siblings

- She became more secretive," he shrugged his shoulders shaking his head, "But she got back on track actually yesterday, she opened up," he explained tilting his head as he spoke scratching his chin with one hand, not much he could say to help the detectives not because he couldn't by the government or anything else just not much was going on

- I see," muttered Rockford wrinkling his eyebrows, the brunette stood beside him and looked at the captain with her hazel eyes. Her eyes had a silent wariness in them as she opened her mouth to voice the question

- Does the captain say that she opened up? - She asked, but did not wait for his answer - Did she say something specific? Maybe something that will land her in a reformatory or her story? - she asked

- Why do you care that she should go to a reformatory? - asked the captain raising an eyebrow at Riverstream's questions, he didn't understand this sick passion to put Anoana in a reformatory. Annalise merely shrugged her shoulders like an innocent child who does not understand her mistake and this woman was twenty-nine years old

- Because it's a lost cause," she whispered, "She can't be changed," her voice was quiet she looked behind the captain to see if Jinx was eavesdropping but the teenager was still sitting in her chair she didn't want to get up until everyone left

Price only rolled his eyes at Annalise's words not having the strength to argue about it, the teenage girl was a debatable matter the captain no longer had the strength for - She only said her real name and her story in brief," he explained after a heavy sigh through his nose

- Really? Did she tell you the name? - Annalise almost mocked not believing the captain, her fingers tightened on the handle of the briefcase she had in her hand - Let me guess Lisa, Anna? - said Annalise guessing Jinx's real name

However, she wasn't close, the captain looked over his shoulder at the corridor where Anoana was sitting at the other end waiting for him to maybe have breakfast or whatever else to do, The captain slowly straightened up looked at the ground and shook his head. He wasn't going to tell Riverstream the teenager's real name, unless the teenager would let him

But no such permission was given

- No. none of those names," he muttered, "I won't tell you, even if you give me a million dollars or whatever," he looked at the younger woman while tilting his head and his voice was more hoarse than usual. For God's sake he felt like smoking a cigar to relieve himself

Riverstream merely snorted under her breath and left the captain's apartment like a storm abandoning the subject. The brunette knew very well that the captain would not tell her anyway and she was not going to ask Annalise had one important rule

She never asks

Tim and Seeley merely nodded goodbye and followed the younger woman out without trying to catch up with her simply headed to their car, which was a black Ford Fiesta.

Everyone dispersed in their own direction The captain quietly closed the front door by turning the lock on the door and returned to the living room to find the teenage girl who had not moved even an inch or millimeter, she was deep in thought trying to remember something at least that's what the captain deduced from the way her eyebrows crinkled. It was missing that her vein would pop out

The captain with quiet trained steps headed to the couch where the detectives were sitting a moment ago, sat down on the couch spreading his arms to the sides spreading out as comfortable as possible and taking up as much space as possible, he closely watched the teenager watching her thoughts churning - As far as I can see from here how the cogs of your head are working," croaked the captain's voice breaking the silence

The teenager looked at him pulled out of her thoughts, "It's just," she started to say, but did not think her words through so she closed her mouth to think about what to say, "I never thought I would be accused of murdering my friends," she muttered already more quietly

The captain pressed his lips together in a narrow line which caused his lips to be hidden behind a thick brown beard - Hmm - muttered the captain understanding the teenager or at least trying to understand - No one likes to be accused of something - he muttered - even more so when you know you didn't do anything -.

The teenager looked at the wall next to her as if it was the most interesting thing in the world or maybe she lacked the courage to look at the captain - I'm used to being accused of stealing or setting something on fire or whatever - the teenager whispered so John had to strain his hearing to understand what she was whispering under her breath

- But murder is something else," finished the captain knowing what he wanted to say, "I believe you did not do it," he added after a moment of tense silence, Jinx only snorted under her breath gently smiling she looked at the captain tilting her head

- Are you saying that so that I would believe you? So that I would continue to trust you," she said as if she wanted to sniff out his plan, which could have been made to tell him about what was going on in the Rodriguez house at the time and not the detective or the social worker, "I haven't killed anyone and never will," she reported her promise

 - I believe you," the captain smiled relaxing even more, "But let's change the subject," he muttered, "We've suffered enough already," he added tilting his head, he pointed to the loose unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt the teenager was wearing, "That's my shirt right? - he asked rhetorically knowing the answer to this question

- Perhaps, you didn't dress her so now she is mine," Jinx smiled innocently and Price laughed

- So be it," he muttered rolling his eyes, however, the smile did not disappear from his face, "Come on it's too big for you," he complained, of course he could have bought the teenager the same shirts, but in her size so that she would detach from his shirts however, he did not feel like getting up and going to the store to look for the same shirts

Both fell silent, however, the silence in the room was not nervous or awkward it was calm without any major demands Jinx and John locked themselves in their worlds. Thinking about what they might have said differently or what they might do later

- Since you trust me enough to know that I didn't do it," Jinx began to say dragging out the last words, "How can you be so sure? - she asked suddenly rejecting the idea of saying more than necessary

John moved his gaze from the ceiling to her looking piercingly at the teenager gently squinting his eyes and then looked at the ground shrugging his shoulders - Because I know you are not willing to kill a person - he confessed after a moment of silence - You may have had a shitty life, but you would never kill anyone - he muttered

- Why do you think so? - she asked curious - You know me a few months maybe even already a year, I don't even remember when I appeared here and you trust me so much? - she expanded her questions further doubting the captain and maybe also because she was curious about his view of the world

He again looked at her - I do not know the answer to this question Anoana - he whispered - However I would answer you most likely it would be a lie, I have not yet found the answer to this question - he answered honestly, he interrupted his monologue for a moment to take in air with his nose hard

- Of course, I could tell you that I see the good in you, but that's probably something you've heard many times before suppose from Laswell," he shrugged his shoulders looking at the ceiling again and the teenager quietly giggled nodding her head which the captain couldn't see but he sensed her answer

The teenage girl only muttered under her breath unintelligible words to the captain - Don't mumble under your breath - he rebuked and Anoana rolled her eyes but muttered a silent , "sorry" Silence again met them still calm without any tension however in the teenage girl it was still boiling in her head

- I was all the way in the kitchen how come I ended up in the living room? - she muttered to herself, the captain's head darted toward Anoana, as he looked at her miraculously without breaking his neck in the process

- Maybe due to stress you forgot? You know adrenaline you saw the fire and started to run away, but you lost consciousness," John suggested, scratching the back of his head, Jinx only shook her head

- I would have remembered that," she denied the captain's theory, "I was still in the kitchen when I lost consciousness I saw that Eric and Ava were still standing, but moments later they were lying down," she muttered, but she herself wasn't sure if it was true, "And after that I don't remember anything," she confessed even more quietly, her voice didn't resemble a whisper she was moving her lips more than making a sound

- I don't know how you ended up in the living room," confessed the captain, getting up hard from the couch, "But I don't know how you are, I'm hungry," he confessed, heading for the kitchen. At the mention of food, the teenager's stomach rumbled loudly, letting her know it, the teenager quickly got up from her seat from this sudden movement, her head spun slightly, but with quick steps she headed for the kitchen following Price 

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fix You Part 4/10

+18

Part 5 and 6 are out on my Patreon!

Summary - Reader is hired as Ruben's assistant nurse after receiving head trauma during a football game. He has fallen into a deep depression on his road to recovery and does not accept much help from Reader as she only reminds him of how incapable he is.

Enjoy!

He should have never given you a day off, Ruben thought. You had been gone for hours, without telling anyone where you went. Ruben woke up that morning to an empty apartment. Okay, Max was there but he was an early riser and always went out for a morning run. You, on the other hand, wasn't an early riser. You'd wake up around the same time Ruben did. He would listen to your footsteps puttering around the kitchen while he lay in bed. By the time you knocked on his door to give him his shot, Ruben had been awake for hours, thinking about you and how he would do anything to feel your hands against his face again.

"Do you think she's gone missing?" Ruben asked Max.

"I thought she said that she had an audition this afternoon?"

"A what?"

"An audition. She's an actress, you know? A really good one too."

"Y/N, an actress?" Ruben found it very laughable. Actors and actresses possessed the skill of lying to the world. That night, looking into your eyes as you held his face, Ruben saw nothing but the truth in them. The truth that you were indeed the most breathtaking woman he had ever seen.

"Yeah, apparently she's studied at one of the best acting schools in London."

"Oh, yeah? Then how come I haven't seen her in any movies?"

It was a slow day in the park. However, Max refused to bring out the tennis balls. Despite the surgery, it was obvious that Ruben's conditions had yet improved. He feared that it was getting worse. And with that thought his creeping depression would return to him with the thoughts of never playing football again. That, and the fact that going blind forever meant never seeing your eyes again.

"I dunno, she said something about the movie industry being misogynistic and unfair to women." Max explained.

Ruben snorted. "Sounds like excuses to me."

He was an asshole at heart. Ruben knew that. But you didn't, or at least pretended not to notice. It's the reason why he hired you. You had an attitude like no other, an attitude that was reflected in your snapping tongue. Whatever Ruben put you through, no matter the insult, you always looked at him the same. Not with pity like his mother. You looked at Ruben as if you could see right through him. See through the pain in his heart and the many many failed attempts to better himself. You gave him the illusion that he might be good enough for you. However, the whole world knew that he wasn't. Not with his broken mind.

The sun had gone down by the time you got back to the apartment. Ruben and Max returned from the park hours ago. You had missed dinner and Ruben didn't like that. Did you have dinner somewhere else? With someone else? If that was the case, the two of you really needed to talk.

"Ruben?"

It was right on cue that you knocked on his door. You had made it a habit to check on him before you retreated to your own room. Ruben would never admit it, but this was the favorite part of his day.

"Come in." He said, sitting up in bed. He perked up even more seeing you appear in the doorway, your face painted with makeup, wearing a tight black dress that hugged your shape in ways that struck his sinful imagination. No bandages covered his eyes during these hours and luckily you wore a coat over your naked shoulders, preventing Ruben from completely losing his mind at the sight of you.

"Hey, I just wanted to check on you." You said.

"Well, like all the other nights you've checked on me, I'm still alive."

His cheesy comment made your smile fade. Good job Ruben, he thought. Even in the dark he could see your distaste for him.

"I mean, do you need anything before I go to bed?" 

"No."

"Oh, okay."

You lingered in the door frame, perhaps feeling forced to make small talk. "Max told me that you guys went to the park today, did you have a nice time?"

"Yes."

"Good."

An awkward silence followed. If you would only step a little closer to the bed so that he could see you clearly. Ruben's vision got a bit blurry where you stood, since his eyes still needed time to adjust, even to the dark.

"Did Max let you exercise again?" You asked.

Ruben snorted. "No." 

"I'm sorry about that."

Perhaps you felt guilty ever since his little fumble in the park, where Ruben's heart topped the average rate. Max refused anymore advanced brain exercises after that. The reason for Ruben's newfound restlessness. Nevertheless, he didn't blame it on you.

"It's not your fault." Ruben said, looking at his hands. "We'll start again in time."

You nodded. "You will get better in time, Ruben, your doctor said so himself."

You had started taking him to his weekly appointments. Although you were much better company than Ruben's mother, he didn't like the look of pity that you gave him as the doctors would pin all those needles in him to run their many many tests. You would never see him for the man he really was, a football player.

"Where were you?" Ruben asked, pleased to change the subject.

"Erm...out." 

"Out with who?"

Your arms folded. "Why do you assume I was out with someone?"

"You were out alone?"

"Yes, yes I was. Believe it or not."

"Why were you dressed like that?"

You looked down on your dress. The light from the hallway reflected off of the little specks of glitter, putting dots on Ruben's walls, making it look like little stars roamed above their heads.

"What's wrong with the way I dress?" You frowned.

"Nothing." He shrugged. "It just looks like you were going on a date or something."

"And if I were?"

"What?"

Ruben's reaction made you smile. "Yeah, if I did in fact go on a date, what's it to?"

"I don't....." 

He choked on his words and you laughed.

"Relax Ruben. I'm only dressed like this because the audition I went to required it."

Of course, he thought. Max told him about your acting pursuit, although he still doubted that you were a good one. However, Ruben was curious. "How did it go?"

"Shit." You sighed and to his surprise stepped into the room. "The directors wanted me to run lines in a scouse accent. Like, who even knows how to do that?"

Ruben laughed. He thought about the many times he had been scolded by the Liverpool fans. He never managed to understand a word of what they were saying to him. He doubted anyone knew what they were saying, not even themselves.

"All I'm saying is thank God for this job, otherwise I'd probably be on the street begging for leftovers."

"I'm sure you'll get your breakthrough." He said and really meant it. If it wasn't in your heart to work for him it could turn ugly very quickly.

"I dunno?" You sighed and to Ruben's surprise, felt comfortable enough to take a seat on his bed.

His legs stirred under the covers to distract him from the blood rushing to parts of his body that he really didn't want to come alive right now. Luckily, the room was dark and you sat on the foot of his bed. Nevertheless, your silhouette was enough to send him off. You were beautiful beyond the light, and if he was ever given the pleasure to touch you one day, he'd forsure make it memorable.

"Ruben?"

Fuck, he thought. You must have caught him staring.

"Yes?" He replied, cupping his groin under the covers.

"I want you to be honest with me."

Fuck.

"Before I go to bed...."

Yeah, he's done.

"Of course." He said, clearing his throat.

"Do you need my help getting to the toilet?"

"Pardon?"

You avoided his eyes out of cheer embarrassment. "You know...." You said. "To help you pee?"

If only God did drive-by's. "No, Y/N." He sighed. "I'm good to go on my own if I have to."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. It's my body, isn't it?"

"I'm just saying. Last time..."

"Last time was a first."

"Right." There was a hint of a smile on your face. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Ruben's heart sank, seeing you leave his bedside. "Y/N?" He exclaimed, stopping you at the door. 

You turned around, eyebrows raised. 

"Erm...you look beautiful."

Your face lit up. "Thank you."

"Yeah, um....goodnight, I guess." Ruben was quite desperate for you to leave.

"Goodnight Ruben."

He fell onto his back once the door shut. And an odd surprise awaited him as he slid a hand down his sweatpants. Ruben had been told that parts of his body could remain permanently affected by his injuries. Like the next man he wondered if that meant his abilities to perform in other places than just the football pitch, and unfortunately the answer was, yes. Like the next man Ruben had tried watching porn in all kinds of outrageous themes. However, nothing had done it for him. But now here he lay, with a full fledged erection and one person on his mind. 

As he began stroking himself, Ruben thought of stripping you of that dress of yours, touching you in ways that would pleasure you to a point of rapture. Oh how he would love to rip you apart, to hear you moan his name.

"Fuck."

As much as he wanted to make the moment last, Ruben was too horny to maintain a steady pace. He stroked his dick like his life depended on it. As if his mother could burst into his room at any minute.

"Shit...." 

Ruben ground, succumbing to his own temptations. He felt pathetic afterwards. Like an animal unable to control his urges. Nevertheless, he made a promise that the next time he came, it would be inside of you.

Part 5 and 6 are out on my Patreon!

[antigonai]

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  ( outside ) st mungo's hospital, london  !

"don't tell on me," it's a simple thing, that request. almost laughable, at their age, but antigone has been subject to the whims of everyone but herself for the past week and as childish as it sounds, it's about what this amounts to - the difference between temporary freedom and a stuffy, private room that she has been forced to stand despite the discomfort that goes all the way down to bone boils down to whether her new companion feels inclined to tattle. she's not doing much. it's obvious she's not meant to be there, hunkered down on a stone bench in her dressing gown, hours past visiting and past the gardens being a warm and welcoming retreat, but anything is better than inside. she tells them, voice small, "i just wanted some fresh air. i'm not a flight risk. promise," and uses a bandaged hand to cross her heart. where would she go? the funny thing about loss is how it leaves you only wanting the person you'll never be able to run to again.

[thevioletscout]

Jigsaw falling into place So there is nothing to explain You eye each other as you pass She looks back, you look back Not just once Not just twice

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

Back with another redraw of a photo from pinterest!

Now, I've had a few recurring faces show up on my posts, and I'm sure some of y'all are thinking "Hold on, I don't recognize her. Who's that?"

This is Sibyl Bierce, yet another pc I have made for this game. She is a pastor's adopted daughter and member of the church. A very kind, if somewhat oblivious, girl. But why would I make an account for her? What am I hoping to do that I can't do as either Emery or Fae?

I want to seek Mr. Eaten's name.

Now granted, that's going to take awhile. Someone else has discussed it better than me, but this game doesn't just let you make a throwaway character for this. You're going to have to build them up and get attached one way or another. I'll probably even do that thing where you back out at the very last minute. Though I won't lie, if taking that final step is what it takes to actually learn the damn name I could be tempted...

Regardless, this piece could honestly be considered more concept art than any literal depiction of events. For example, it's going to take awhile before Sibyl looks like this. Next time I draw her you'll probably see a more well-dressed, less-bandaged and happier version of her. So either way don't be surprised if as her story continues, some elements of this design either change or simply don't come to be.

One thing I'll say now is that she's bandaged up like this because I imagine after all of the beatings and deaths this story puts you through, she slowly starts to become a tomb colonist. At least in practice if not officially. I mean they say the people of Fallen London become tomb colonists when they're either too old or too injured, and Sibyl will certainly fit the latter. Oh and do you want to know the kicker to all of this?

Sibyl is only 19 years old.

Og photo here

(Also- one thing you'll notice if you go lurking is that I also use Sibyl for the ttrpg Call of Cthulhu. That version is Sibyl Matthews. This one is Sibyl Bierce. Same character, different surnames.)

[callsign-owl]

Easter Break - Part 3

This is a continuation of Easter Break - Part 2 

London, United Kingdom - April 2019

Owl woke up the next day, groggy but surprisingly clear-headed. Blinking, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up slowly, expecting the familiar pounding of a hangover to slam into him. But instead, what greeted him was a strange sense of calm. His body felt lighter than it had in days, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his mind wasn’t a swirling mess of shame, anxiety, and self-loathing.

It was almost disorienting, how good he felt. His bandaged hand throbbed only faintly. The usual weight pressing down on his chest, the relentless heaviness that usually clung to him was gone. It was as if something had reset in his brain overnight, a quiet reboot that left him feeling oddly refreshed.

Owl ran a hand through his messy hair, staring  at the ceiling as the realization sank in—he felt okay. Not great, not perfect, but normal—at least, his version of it. It was as if the storm had passed, leaving behind an eerie sense of calm in its wake.

This had happened before, more times than he cared to count. He would spiral out of control, completely lose himself in the chaos—only to suddenly wake up feeling like his slate had been wiped clean. His brain would reboot, the noise would fade, and he could function again. For a while, at least. It never lasted for very long. The cycle always repeated itself. 

Owl didn’t quite understand it, and he was sure no one else did either. Percival certainly didn’t. Percy was always so sure he had Owl figured out, convinced that every self-destructive moment was part of some greater spiral that needed to be stopped before it got worse. Something that needed to be fixed, something that required intervention and control. But Percy never managed to understand this part—the part where Owl somehow bounced back without an explanation, where he leveled out after everything unraveled. For Owl, this was just how things were. It had been this way for as long as he could remember.

Yet it was still always strange when it happened—waking up after a downward spiral and just feeling… fine. Not great, not ecstatic, but sort of normal or rather neutral. Owl didn‘t know how long it would last this time but for now, he would try to enjoy it. And all he wanted right now was a cup of coffee. Just coffee. Still in the clothes he had slept in, Owl didn’t bother to change. He headed straight to the kitchen.

As Owl stepped into the kitchen, the scene that greeted him almost made him laugh. There, seated at the dining table, was Percival—clearly in the middle of some serious stress eating. The table was covered with food: pastries, bacon, eggs, pancakes, enough to feed an entire family. And then there was Percy himself, not dressed in one of his usual impeccably tailored suits but in his pajamas. The pajamas did nothing to hide Percy’s bulk, which his suits usually managed to keep in check to some degree. It made Percival looked so much more human, his body straining against the fabric.

For a moment, Owl just stood in the doorway, watching the absurdity of it all. He couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was almost… endearing. Almost.

Percy finally noticed him standing there and froze, a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise. He had clearly not expected Owl to show up—and certainly not looking so composed. He stared at Owl as if he were some kind of apparition, his mind trying to reconcile the image of his brother from the night before with the one now standing in front of him.

"Morning," Owl said casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened the other night. He walked over to the counter, grabbed a mug, and poured himself some coffee. He added some milk and took a sip, savoring the taste and the warmth spreading through his chest. Exactly what he needed.

Percy, still holding his fork, blinked at Owl still trying to process what he was seeing. He had witnessed this "reboot" in Owl before, but it always left him bewildered, no matter how many times it happened. The night before, Owl had been spiraling, completely unhinged, and now… now he was just standing there, drinking coffee like nothing was out of the ordinary. It didn’t make any sense. Percy’s analytical mind, always so focused on logic and control, simply couldn’t wrap itself around the idea that Owl could bounce back from the edge so quickly.

"You… seem better," Percy finally managed, his voice slow, measured, still trying to gauge the situation. He set his fork down and straightened up slightly, as if trying to regain some semblance of authority, though his pajamas made it hard to take him seriously. 

Owl raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in his hands. “Should I not?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Percy blinked, clearly struggling to wrap his head around what he was seeing. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that after everything that happened last night, you’re just… fine.”

Owl shrugged and took another sip of his coffee, completely unfazed.

 Percys brows furrowed in disbelief. “*redacted*, you were practically on the verge of burning down the house last night. You were drunk, high, and—”

“And now I’m not,” Owl interrupted, stating it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. „Did you ever actually read those books? They were terrible."

Percy didn’t answer, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. He couldn’t understand how Owl could be so calm, so dismissive. To him, last night had been a clear sign of Owl’s ongoing struggle—a struggle that needed to be addressed, managed, controlled. And yet here Owl was, acting like it was nothing more than a minor hiccup. “This… this isn’t normal. You can’t just hit the reset button and pretend everything’s fine.”

Owl sighed, setting his coffee mug down on the counter. “I’m not pretending, Percy. I feel fine. Why can’t you just accept that?”

“Because I’ve seen this before,” Percy said quietly, his eyes searching Owl’s face for any sign of the cracks he was so certain were there. “You pull yourself together for a while, but it never lasts. And then the cycle starts all over again.”

Owl rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking you to understand it. I’m just telling you how it is. Today, I’m fine. Tomorrow? Who knows. This is just how it works for me. I spiral, I crash, I reboot.“

Percy stared at him for a moment, clearly struggling with how to respond. This was what always threw him off—this sudden shift from chaos to calm. He wanted to argue, to tell Owl that he couldn’t keep doing this, that he needed help, real help. Instead Percys shook his head, still in disbelief but he remained silent. He grabbed a slice of toast and took a bite, clearly still frustrated

Owl watched his older brother for a moment, a faint smile still playing on his lips. It was rare to see Percy so flustered, so out of his element. He was usually so buttoned up, so rigidly controlled in every aspect of his life, that seeing him like this felt strangely surreal. And Owl couldn’t help but find a certain satisfaction in it. The whole scene was an comedic contrast to the chaos of the night before.

Eventually, Owl pushed himself off the counter and made his way toward the door, his coffee in hand. "Enjoy your breakfast, Percy," he said over his shoulder, his voice light with a hint of amusement. "Don’t eat yourself to death."

Percy shot him a sharp look, but Owl didn’t stick around to see if he responded. He was already out the door.

Owl had planned on heading straight to his room but something about the smell of burnt paper still lingering in the air pulled him toward the study. He paused at the door, his hand resting on the polished brass handle. The study had always been forbidden to him, a place where his father had ruled with an iron fist. Owl had only been allowed inside under very specific circumstances—none of them pleasant. Every time he had been in that room, it was to be punished, reprimanded, or reminded of his inferiority to his older brother. But now Bartholomew was gone and with him the rules. With that thought, Owl turned the handle and stepped inside.

Owl, still sipping his coffee, casually began snooping around the study, opening drawers and cabinets, flipping through documents. He had hoped to find something—anything—of interest. A secret, maybe, or some sign that his father had lived a life outside of his obsession with business and reputation. But everything was exactly as Owl expected: dull, orderly, and lifeless. Bartholomew’s entire existence had been about his legacy, and the study reflected just that. Contracts, ledgers, property deeds, correspondence with business partners—it was all so predictable, so achingly boring.

He was about to give up when he reached the bottom drawer of the desk. Unlike the others, it was locked. Owl’s pulse quickened slightly. A locked drawer in his father’s study—now that had potential. He crouched down, inspecting the lock more closely. There was no key in sight, but Owl wasn’t the type to let a lock stop him. He set his empty coffee down on the desk and grabbed a couple of paperclips, bending them into makeshift lockpicks.

After a few minutes of fiddling with the lock, he could feel it starting to give. The paperclips weren’t perfect tools, but Owl was persistent. He was just about to hear that satisfying click when—

“*redacted*, what the hell are you doing?”

Owl froze, the paperclips still jammed in the lock. He turned slowly to see Percy standing in the doorway, fully dressed now, his earlier relaxed demeanor gone, replaced by a tense, almost panicked expression.

Owl raised an eyebrow, trying to appear casual. “What does it look like?,” he replied, his voice light with a hint of defiance.

Percy’s eyes flicked from the drawer to the paperclips in Owl’s hand, then back to Owl’s face. His usual cool composure was cracking, and there was a flicker of something akin to fear in his eyes. “Get away from that drawer,” Percy said, his voice unusually sharp.

Owl blinked, surprised by the intensity of Percy’s reaction. He had expected his brother to be annoyed, maybe even angry, but this was something else. Percy was genuinely unsettled.

“Why?” Owl asked, standing up slowly but not moving away from the drawer. “What’s in there? You’re acting like there is a nuclear launch code hidden in it.”

“Just leave it,” Percy insisted, stepping closer, his tone growing more urgent.

Owl crossed his arms, suddenly more interested in what was inside than he had been before. “Why should I?”

Percy’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. The silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Owl watched him closely, intrigued by the uncharacteristic panic in his brother’s eyes. Percy never lost his cool like this. Never. Which meant whatever was in that drawer was important. Maybe even dangerous.

“Just drop it.” Percy said, his voice low and tight.

Owl narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to Percy. “What are you so afraid of?” he asked quietly, his curiosity now fully piqued. “What’s in that drawer that’s got you so worked up?”

Percy looked unsure—nervous, even. He glanced toward the locked drawer again, then back at Owl, as if weighing his options.

“Just trust me on this,” Percy said, his voice almost pleading. “There are some things you’re better off not knowing.”

Owl’s smirk faded, replaced by a cold, calculating look. He’d heard that line countless times before, from both his father and Percy when they would keep secrets under the guise of “protecting” him. But Owl wasn’t a interested in being kept in the dark. Not again.

“Trust you?” Owl repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “Since when has that ever worked out for me?”

Percy’s expression hardened, but the fear in his eyes remained. “I’m serious. Leave it alone.”

For a moment, the two brothers stood there, staring each other down. Owl could feel the tension in the air, the weight of whatever was hidden in that drawer pressing down on both of them. He didn’t know what it was, but he could sense that it was something big—something their father had gone to great lengths to hide. And now, Percy was apparently carrying on that burden.

Owl’s mind was racing. He could feel his pulse quickening, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. The military training he’d received over the past few months flickered in the back of his mind—how to disarm an opponent, how to incapacitate them quickly. For a split second, the thought crossed his mind: he could take Percy down, incapacitate him just long enough to get a chance to open the drawer.

Percy noticed the shift in Owl’s demeanor immediately. "Don’t," Percy warned, his voice low and deadly serious. He could see the calculation in Owl’s eyes, the subtle shift in posture. "You don’t want to do this."

Owl‘s fingers twitched at his sides, the temptation still hanging in the air like a storm about to break. He could see the tension in Percy’s shoulders, the wariness in his eyes. His brother was waiting for him to make a move, bracing for it.

Percy was no fool—he knew Owl had the training now, and he knew what that meant. He could see it in the way Owl’s posture had shifted, the subtle tightening of his muscles, the cold calculation in his eyes. This was someone who knew exactly what he was capable of—someone who knew how to hurt, how to end things quickly if he wanted to.

Percy didn’t move and he didn’t break eye contact. He knew that one wrong word, one wrong movement, could tip Owl over the edge. And while he had always been the larger and stronger of the two, he wasn’t naive enough to think he could overpower Owl physically. Not anymore. If Owl decided to use his training, if he decided to cross that line, Percy wasn’t sure how far things would go. He wasn’t sure if he could stop him. He could see it, that flicker of violence lurking just beneath the surface, the same edge their father had always had. Owl had inherited that dark side from Bartholomew and Percy had always been wary of it.

The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, until finally, Owl broke it. “You’re scared of me,” Owl said, his voice quiet but laced with a dangerous edge.

Percy didn‘t bither denying it. The fear was there but it wasn’t just the fear of his brother. It was fear of what was in that drawer, of what Owl would do if he ever found out the truth. Percy could feel his pulse quickening, but he kept his voice steady when he spoke. “I’m not scared of you, *redacted*,” Percy said slowly. “I’m scared of what you’ll do if you keep pushing. You don’t want to go down this road.”

Owl’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a faint, mocking smile. “Is that a threat?”

Percy shook his head. “It’s not a threat, it’s a warning. There are things that can’t be undone if you open that drawer.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. For a moment, Owl’s expression wavered, as if he was considering what Percy had said. But then his eyes hardened again, the icy resolve returning.

“I don’t care,” Owl said, his voice low and dangerous. “Whatever’s in there… I’ll find out. You can try to stop me, but you know I’ll get to it eventually.”

Percy didn’t flinch. He met Owl’s gaze with equal intensity, his voice low and steady. “You’re playing with fire, *redacted*. Be careful you don’t get burned.”

Owl smirked, a dark, humorless smile that sent a chill down Percy’s spine. “We’ll see who gets burned.” With that, Owl walked out of the door, leaving Percy alone in the study.

Percival stood there for a moment, his heart still pounding in his chest, the lingering threat of violence hanging in the air like a shadow. He let out a slow, controlled breath, but the unease didn’t fade. Owl had backed off, but Percy knew his brother. This wasn’t over. Owl would find a way to get to that drawer—if not today, then another day. It was only a matter of time.

Continue reading here

[thedivinelights]

Console.WriteLine("A Christmas Carol);

STAVE FIVE: BEGINNING OF AMENDS

Ao3

(TW: Mentions of miscarriage)

⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯ · ⎯

Scrooge awoke at last on Christmas Day, and he awoke with all the energy of a man who had indulged in the power of spirits — not the ghastly kind, mind you — most definitely would. But he woke with a start, and there was an odd sort of energy about him, a catharsis the likes of which he had not felt in a long time. 

“You were a bloody moron last night, Scrooge.” Scrooge scowled, reciting the self-deprecation in his head in time of the metronomic throbbing behind his eyes. “There’s still a chance to make things right, and sitting here dawdling and feeling sorry for yourself won't change a thing!”

He forced himself out of the empty bed with perseverance, and dressed as well as he could for a man who had hurled in the toilet, cleaned up the toilet, hurled again, and cleaned up again minutes before. The suit he wore was old and tight-fitting, bandages were concealed beneath the sleeves, and he had to make do with a plain baby blue shirt since his white blouse had been stained red. But even through the queasiness, Scrooge remained undeterred. It was a startling feeling, reanimating oneself from the creaky hinges of a drunken stupor.

Taking one step down the staircase, Scrooge immediately retracted from the stair as if he had trodden on a thorn, shook his head, and instead took a right into his and Marley’s internal filing room. It was an abandoned thing, lightly dusted and seemingly untouched, but a stream of faint morning light trickled through the gaps between the heavy curtains. Rows upon rows of locked and padlocked drawers lined the walls and greeted him with silent judgement. The keys jangled as he approached, the blades digging into his calloused hands.

And lo and behold, he tore each and every one of them open! Swiftness had been key, and Scrooge had welcomed it with open arms. Open, pull, slam! Open, pull, slam! A steady rhythm, a percussive tempo! Metallic clinks and clanks harmonised with Scrooge’s racing heartbeat, formidable and determined. It was a glorious retribution. It was a magnificent redemption.

So Scrooge, carrying more files than he had any right to possess, finally descended the creaky staircase into the living room, his movements a tad unsteady. But that was to be expected, taking into account both his veisalgia and the pile he currently cradled in his hands with no consideration for the contents inside. And Scrooge all but stamped towards the fireplace, bumbling about, wincing as his hips hit a wall, then a table, and then his foot hit a chair. But he did not swear or curse out in pain. For in this newfound determination, Scrooge bit his lip and soldiered on! A true trait, one that we all must aspire to have.

Upon reaching the grand fireplace, Scrooge dropped the pile of files onto the rug with a heavy thud. He brandished the Scotsman’s lighter like a weapon, added the two-thirds that remained of his alcoholic endeavours to the wood, ignited the flames with a flick of his thumb, and tossed each and all of his nefarious deeds into the hungry blaze.

Gone was the grief of a coding woman’s disheartening loss. Gone was the addiction of a television man’s tendencies. Gone was the hold over two boys’ swindling. Gone was the operation of the Fezziwig sister’s misdeeds. Gone was the man that had been the Shark of London.

But he could not stand to watch the papers curl and blacken into the inferno, no. He had much and more to do, after all, and if Scrooge had been anything in life, it was efficient. So Scrooge donned his coat and scarf, hastily wrapping the latter around his neck, its frayed ends tickling his ears. He opened the front door, and a gust of frosty air greeted him, momentarily stealing his breath. The world outside was blanketed in a pristine layer of snow, and the morning sun painted everything in hues of gold and pink.

And what luck! What pure chance it was to see a familiar woman strolling down his very avenue, with such a familiar countenance! Scrooge hoped to change that soon enough, if he could.

“Miss Nakamura, was it?” Scrooge called out, tripping on his feet on his way to her.

“S-Scrooge-sama?!” Nakamura stumbled back, eyes darting around for an exit. “What are you doing here, sir?”

“Doing here? Well, I live here.” Scrooge said nonchalantly.

“You do?” Nakamura asked.

“I do indeed!” Scrooge smiled as best he could, though it appeared more a grimace, if anything, and did more to unsettle her than comfort her. “I… I am sorry for what happened the days before, with your dismissal.”

“Do not be, Scrooge-sama. It is the way of things.” Nakamura bowed slightly as she smiled, and hers had been more genuine than Scrooge had anticipated.

“Though it should not be.” Scrooge insisted, gently gripping her shoulders. “You are a smart young woman with a life ahead of you and a family who cares about you. I will not be the reason you cannot have that.”

“But—”

“No buts, Miss Nakamura! There shall be no excuses on this day!” Scrooge placed a hand over his heart. “Now, what say you to a chance as a paid intern at Asplex Industries? Not a retail branch of course, but a role where your talents can truly shine. I've been reconsidering the way I run things, and I believe I could use someone with your skills and determination.”

Nakamura blinked in disbelief, her eyes wide with surprise. “Scrooge-sama, are you serious?”

“When have you ever heard me as the sort to jest?” Scrooge laughed, and by God, it was such a wonderful laugh, even if it had been tinged with a lingering worry.

“I… I do not know what to say…” Nakamura’s eyes blurred with tears

“Then say yes, woman!”

“Yes, Scrooge-sama! Yes, yes, yes!” Nakamura bowed relentlessly and grinned, and it was the brightest grin he’d ever seen directed at him. “Arigatou gozaimasu! Thank you very much! There must be something I must do to repay you. Anything you need!”

Scrooge blinked for a moment, surprised at such an earnest offer. He pondered for a brief moment, then his eyes lit up with a newfound idea.

"Well, Miss Nakamura, there is one thing you can do for me." Scrooge pulled out a pen and a notebook, tearing the page. "You remember the store in Canary Wharf, yes?”

“How could I forget?” Nakamura replied.

“Ah, yes. What a foolish question to ask.” Scrooge passed the sheet to Nakamura, along with a few large wads of cash. “That is the address of my secretary, Bob Cratchit, and with it is a list of items I need you to purchase for me.”

Nakamura’s eyes widened at the list. The latest laptop, a tablet, a gaming console with all the accessories, and a baby monitor? She could not help but ask what it was all for, but Scrooge gave her a look that told her how he just listened, and he answered.

“That note also includes my PayPal information. Order those items and have them delivered to the Cratchit household.” Scrooge placed a finger to his lips. “Do not tell him they are gifts from me, and make sure they arrive before noon. Can you handle that, Miss Nakamura?”

Nakamura nodded, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Consider it done, Scrooge-sama! I'll make sure everything is perfect."

"Excellent! You really are a wonderful woman to converse with." Scrooge replied, pleased with himself, and he turned to leave, but added one last kind reminder. "Oh, and Miss Nakamura, I must insist you address me as Ebenezer from now on. We're going to be working closely together, after all."

"As you wish, Ebenezer-san!" Nakamura grinned, the formality in her tone softened by genuine warmth, and soon she was off like a rocket; it would have required quite the steady foot to keep up with the sheer velocity of her departure. 

On Christmas Day, it was well known to Scrooge that most, if not all, public transport services were as good as nonexistent, and he himself did not have the luxury of having a driver’s licence, and he definitely did not have the luxury of a car — which he pushed to the back of his mind for the time being — to take him there. But Scrooge did have two luxuries to rely on: His connections, and his own two legs.

Scrooge pulled out his phone from his pocket, a second one, of course; most in the realm of business were equipped with redundancies, and adjusted its security settings for more ease of access.

“FULTON, are you there?” Scrooge put the speaker to his lips, knowing that the AI would find their way to his phone sooner or later.

FULTON: Good morning, Mr. Scrooge. It is good to hear you are still functional. How may I assist you?

“I need you to contact Preslan Sullivan.” Scrooge replied, beginning his stride towards the bus stop near the boarding school. “Tell him I need transportation, but make it so that he can decline if necessary.”

FULTON: As you wish. I would also like to add that Mr. Marley has been stabilised, Mr. Scrooge. There is a high chance you will be allowed to see him soon.

Scrooge’s heart skipped a beat at that, and the hand that held his phone trembled for a moment. “Thank you, FULTON. That… That’s all I can ask for, really. And Tiny Tim?”

FULTON: Completely unharmed, Mr. Scrooge. Mr. Marley bore the brunt of the accident for him, it seems.

“That’s Jacob for you…” Scrooge shook his head. How could he have been so foolish to forsake him so? “Thank you again, FULTON. Truly.”

The AI covered his screen with a simple thumbs-up emoji, and Scrooge’s lips quivered into a smile. Perhaps he had been far too judgemental on the technological marvel. He really should consider them a more magical thing! The future brought into the present, a belief mere science-fiction, now reality.

“If I may ask, FULTON, while we wait.” Scrooge pursed his lips, debating whether asking such a question would be ethically sound. “Who created you? I would like to extend my thanks to them.”

He received nothing, and Scrooge had been content to leave it at that. But then a notification pinged his phone, a loud sound against the shelter of the bus stop. Swipe, tap, open Messages, tap on FULTON, image.

There sat a man in a terribly dim workshop, with only a small lamp as his light source. His blue eyes hidden slightly by his furrowed brow, his brown hair looking falsely ginger by the lighting. A boxy computer sat on his desk, lines of code filling the screen. Scattered sheets of notes, tools, and a half-finished cup of coffee filled the whole space, messily and unsettling, but oddly comforting. 

But Scrooge didn't notice the notes or the tools or the coffee. All he could see was the man. That determined man in his twenties — no, he had to have been a teen — seeming so familiar to him. Oh… so familiar.

It all made sense when he checked the date. Scrooge remembered little, but he remembered dates. And he knew this date well.

Taken: July 23, 1979

Five weeks prior, love was made. Five weeks prior, he was drunk and in love. Five weeks prior, they made her.

FULTON: I was made as a companion. The previous CTO found my code and altered me, but I am still a friend.

Scrooge covered his mouth to hold back a sob.

“She would have loved you, FULTON… I made sure of it.”

FULTON: That you did, sir.

He wanted to say more, ask more, learn more. There was so much left unsaid, and so much he had forgotten. But before he could, Preslan arrived in a familiar Ford Escort, rolling down the windows with a toothy grin.

"Happy Christmas to ye, Mr. Scrooge! Did ye say ye'd be needin' a lift?" Preslan asked, one arm dangling out of the car.

“Aye, Mr. Sullivan.” Scrooge hopped into the front of the car, the scent of pine air freshener mingling with the crisp winter breeze. “Fezziwig residence, if you will. And make it quick.”

Preslan raised an eyebrow. “D’you know where they live?”

Scrooge nodded. “If they haven't moved location, I should hope so.”

He relayed the postcode, and the speed by which Preslan drove within legal limits would be nothing short of miraculous, for Scrooge found his back pressed against the seat, his hair tousled, and his hands gripping against the seat for dear life as Preslan swerved corners with all the energy of a Formula 1 racer in Silverstone. Thankfully, Scrooge found the sensibilities to make himself more presentable in the minutes that passed. And thankfully, Scrooge remembered to shout a very ‘Merry Christmas!’ to dear Preslan, who greeted him back with just as much fervour as he parked on a cosy corner not too far from their destination.

He patrolled awkwardly at their front door, stepping like he was in some peculiar dance routine of etiquette and uncertainty, before he threw caution to the wind and rapped swiftly on the wood, not noticing the doorbell next to it.

“Ebenezer?!” Belle exclaimed when she threw open the door, and Scrooge half-expected her to slam it back in his face.

“Hi, Belle.” Scrooge shuffled on his feet. “Is Old Fezz— Nigel, here?”

Here? Why, if Nigel Fezziwig had not been at his own home on Christmas Day, I would have a right mind to accuse him of a grave crime of festivity! But let us not dwell on such hypotheticals, for Fezziwig had been here, and he had been waiting with a gaudy, hideous sweater with snowmen and snowflakes and reindeer.

“S-Scrooge! What a pleasant surprise!” Fezziwig addressed as he took his daughter’s place, though Scrooge knew him well enough to know the apprehension in his tone. “What brings you here today?! If you're here regarding the shipments, I—”

“I won’t stay long, I promise.” Scrooge did not take a single step into the household, knowing damn well that he was unwelcome. “I just came to say that… I… fuck, I’m not good at this…”

“Take your time, lad.” Fezziwig spoke gently, his fear no longer prevalent, and Scrooge toyed with the lapel of his suit, unable to meet his eyes even if they had softened.

“I… I’m sorry, Nigel.” Scrooge choked out. “You gave me so much, and I threw it all away. I-I know there’s probably not enough love in your heart for a wretched old sinner like me, but I will give you this much: I burned the files, Nigel. I burned all of them. You don’t have to do business with me ever again! You can find someone else to sell your semiconductors to. You can punch, yell, slander me if you want, I deserve it! You can hate me all you want, I—”

Fezziwig pulled him into a warm, tight, loving hug, and it felt like all the air left Scrooge’s lungs.

“I might have felt a lot of things, but I never hated you, my boy.” Fezziwig whispered, tears pricking his eyes. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

And when Fezziwig rubbed his back in a soothing motion, Scrooge couldn’t help but shudder out as he buried his face into the crook of the older man’s neck; he smelled like cinnamon and candy canes, a scent Scrooge had forgotten he'd loved more than any other scent of the season.

“I-I’m so sorry, Mr. Fezziwig. I’m so sorry…”

The length by which they held each other close, and the length by which they cried, and the length by which the world outside spun in a wintry waltz, seemed to stretch and warp, collapsing and expanding in a peculiar dance of time itself. In that moment, in that embrace, Scrooge felt the weight of years of regret and sorrow lift from his shoulders, replaced by the warmth of forgiveness and acceptance.

Scrooge wiped away his tears and pulled away first, fearing that if he lingered any longer, he would be considered selfish. But Belle then took his hand, and led him into the house, through the hallway, past the dining room, into the living room, and to the yard. Dick shook at his free hand, Topper gave him a quiet wave, Benedicta and Bridget gave him amicable smiles, Mrs. Chloe Fezziwig lured him into a hug. Scrooge took it all as he passed them all by, and still he feared he was overstaying his welcome.

The yard itself was a nice yard. Large and well-maintained, covered in a thick layer of snow that crunched beneath their feet. A good wooden fence barred the yard from the neighbours, save from the occasional feline which darted along the top. Scrooge recognised it, and recognised it well. And in the centre of it all, surrounded by well paved stones… was a tree. A marvellous hornbeam, the likes of which Scrooge rarely, if ever, encountered. It stood tall and proud, branches adorned with trickles of snow lightly dusted upon it, and its leaves — though still visible — brought autumn to winter, clinging on in oranges and reds.

“Do you recognise this tree, Ebenezer?” Belle asked.

“Of course I do.” Scrooge replied. “We buried this tree together thirty-three years ago. Your mother was worried it would take up her gardening space, but you were ever so insistent.”

“Oh hush!” Belle lightly nudged her former flame. “You were just as insistent as I had been, and you know it!”

Scrooge laughed, one of many to come. “Of course, of course. It seems to have grown well in my absence, but why bring me here?”

Belle’s smile wavered. All she did was motion towards it, so Scrooge obeyed. The dampness beneath his feet meant nothing, even as he moved, step by step, inch by inch. He looked downwards, stopping just short of the stones encircling the trunk, and there it was. A slab of marble, preserved for all these years, covered in a layer of snow as if it had been untouched by time. He crouched down, brushed it away with such tenderness, and saw it.

But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the children come to me,  and do not hinder them,  for to such belongs the kingdom of God.  Truly, I say to you,  whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child  shall not enter it.” - Luke 18:16-17

You were carried for a moment, but you are loved for a lifetime SHEILA FEZZIWIG PERCIVAL SCROOGE

25 December 1979

Scrooge looked upon it, and sobbed so loudly that Belle finally moved to comfort him.

“I never understood your fixation on that morality play…” Belle laughed quietly, even as her bottom lip trembled and her eyes glistened.

“It was what drove me in so many ways.” Scrooge shoved his hands into his pockets. “I never understood that Inspector Goole. Not really. I never understood why this mystery of a man would go so far as to… to teach a family about responsibility, with varying results.”

“The young versus the old, and poor Gerald in the middle.” Belle mumbled, twirling her hair.

“A part of me wanted our girl to be just like Sheila Birling. Not the bratty little girl who caused the tragedy, of course, but the mature young woman who learned from it. To be fair, I never got far into understanding it until tonight, until I burned those files.”

Scrooge knelt down, brushing a few more puffs of snow away, before he closed his eyes, muttered a silent prayer, and opened them once more.

“Hello Sheila. It… It’s your Daddy.” Scrooge didn’t know what to make of the word upon his lips. “I’m sure your Mummy must have told such outrageous stories about me. A good few of them might be true.”

Belle chuckled, and Scrooge continued.

“How are you doing with the angels? I-Is heaven nice this time of year? Is God treating you well?” Scrooge gasped out. “I hope you haven’t been watching me… you might think of me as a bit of a scoundrel.”

“Ebenezer!” Belle chastised.

“What? It’s true!” Scrooge smiled at Belle, then turned back. “I… I don’t know what heaven is like, but… I do wish your grandfather is there with you. Abel Marley. He was a very smart headteacher.”

Scrooge blinked away tears. “Knowing Mr. Marley, he’s probably off teaching you the fundamentals of mathematics. Integration and differentiation and all sorts of things you might find boring. But… he taught me well. He took me in when my own father did not accept me, and I’ve always thought him a good man.”

Fezziwig had come out at this point, holding his wife and other two children close. Dick and Topper stayed within the house, keeping their silent vigil, a prayer or two.

“I’m sure you know my husband, if you’ve been watching.” Scrooge clutched at his chest, and Belle squeezed his shoulder. “His name’s Jacob, and I know he’s not your Mummy, but he's a good man. He's been through a lot, and I... I haven't been the best husband to him. But I'm trying to change, Sheila. I’m trying to love him better. I'm trying to be better. Your Mummy and Jacob have been helping me see things differently.”

He paused, wiping away another tear. “I miss you, Sheila. Every day. I wish I could have seen you grow up, but life doesn't always give us what we want. Just know that your Mummy and I love you. And if you're up there, looking down on us, I hope you can forgive this old, foolish man for all his mistakes.”

Scrooge pressed a gentle kiss to the cold marble slab, and Belle wrapped her arms around him, providing silent comfort. The snow continued to fall, covering the yard in a pristine white blanket.

“Merry Christmas, my angel.”

To say that he stayed there in a long remembrance would be an understatement, for he stayed as long as he could. He whispered to the slab, told her of all the goodness and redemption he hoped to achieve, of the love he carried for her, and of the gratitude he felt for the chance to change. Eventually, however, Scrooge rose to his feet, his legs stiff from the cold and his heart heavy with emotion. The Fezziwigs wished for him to stay, but alas he could not. If he stayed any longer, he would let all other obligations fall to the wayside.

So he gathered himself, bid farewell to the Fezziwigs, and left with Preslan feeling a little lighter than he had before. There was another stop he had to make, and Preslan knew the way well enough that he didn’t have to ask. 

Scrooge stepped into the bookstore — hands full with bags from the local Tesco, filled with all sorts of groceries — and ignored the sign at the front.

“Sorry but we’re closed…” Aurora trailed off, starting from her place at the counter, tallying up her pounds and pence, at the sight of her brother-in-law. “Ebenezer?”

“Uh…” Scrooge waved awkwardly. “M-Magandang hapon?”

His Tagalog was by no means perfect; it was stiff and clunky. It was ludicrous and perplexing enough for Aurora to see Scrooge, with his much taller stature looming over her, trying to press his forehead against her hand. For she had been older than he was. Not much older, of course, but Aurora felt no need to correct him on the etiquette. It was, after all, the thought that counted.

“This is a surprise.” Aurora stepped back, mirth upon her countenance. Scrooge knew her to be a rather hard-to-please woman, so he considered this more of a victory.

Scrooge put down the groceries and rubbed his sore fingers. “I’m sure it must be. Are Fan and Fred here?”

Aurora told him to give her a second, and Scrooge watched as she took a few steps up the staircase, and yelled with such vigour and ferocity for such a small body that he wondered if the walls would tremble from her tenor.

“Tito Ben?!” Fred shot down the stairs so spiritedly and hastefully that he tripped upon one of the steps, but he managed to catch himself before tumbling completely. He wore a wide grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Tito Ben! Tito Ben!” Fred repeated, bounding down the remaining steps and practically throwing himself into Scrooge's arms. “You came!”

Scrooge, though caught off guard by the exuberance, couldn't help but smile. “Well, it is Christmas, isn't it?”

Fred pulled away. “I-I heard about what happened to Tito Jake, is he—”

“I have it in good conscience and good intel that he’ll live, Fred.” Scrooge squeezed his nephew’s shoulder, patting him on the back. “You of all people should know that Jacob is a tough man to bring down.”

“Yeah, he is!” Fred beamed, eyes shining with admiration. “Tito Jake is the coolest! But I'm so glad you're here, Tito Ben!”

Scrooge ruffled Fred's hair, a rare display of affection from the usually reserved man. “Well, I figured I’d spend Christmas with my family. And speaking of family, where’s your mum?”

“Oh, she’s upstairs, probably sorting out some of the old books or tuning her guitar or something.” Fred rolled his eyes with a playful grin. “But hey, since you’re here, let’s get her to take a break and spend time together! Come on!”

“Hoy! Frederick!” Aurora called out, ready to scold him on such impulsivity, but there was no use in it, for Fred practically dragged Scrooge upstairs to Fan's recording room, where they found her surrounded by stacks of books and a mountain of music sheets. The room was filled with the musty, comforting scent of aged paper and ink. A multitude of electronics littered the room, from an amp to a sound mixer, and that old guitar upon the stand, seemingly untouched for the moment.

“Mum, guess who’s here!” Fred announced, his excitement contagious.

Fan looked up from her work, her eyes widening in surprise and then softening with warmth. “Ebenezer?”

“Hello, Fan.” Scrooge offered a small, genuine smile.

Fred excused himself, and brother and sister stood alone in the room. Neither knew what to say, and that was to be expected. Having gone so long without each other, after being joint at the hip in childhood… what could one say? If I myself had a sibling such as Ebenezer and Fan, I would have certainly marvelled at the reunion. But we are not here for my suppositional relationships, but rather to witness the interactions between these two long-lost siblings.

Fan broke the silence, her voice gentle yet filled with a hint of sadness. "Ebenezer, it's been so long. I never thought I'd see you again."

Scrooge nodded, a heaviness settling in his chest. "I know, Fan. I've been a fool, a stubborn, prideful fool.”

“A fool is too kind.” Fan quipped, crossing her arms. “You’ve been a downright buffoon in every sense of the word.”

“I know.” Scrooge replied.

“What were you thinking, pushing Jacob away like that?” Fan asked.

“I don’t know.” Scrooge responded. “Actually, I do know, but I’ve just been too much of a blind fool — or buffoon, in your terms — to see it.”

Fan remained silent.

“You know what happened when our father found out I had an romantic interest in men—”

“Gay is the term.”

“Bisexual, actually.” Scrooge corrected, causing her to roll her eyes. “But you know what happened. He sent me to boarding school, from London to Essex, never to return.”

“You never knew the full story, Ebenezer.” Fan insisted, causing Scrooge to bristle slightly.

“What is there to know? That Zachariah Scrooge, my own father, disowned me and sent me away for shits and giggles? He despised me, Fanny!”

“He never despised you!”

“Then why didn’t he come back for me?”

“Because he’s dead, Ebbie.”

The words — soft and compassionate — hung in the air, heavy and raw, cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. Scrooge's eyes widened, and for a moment, he felt the world stop. Dead. That word echoed in his mind. Dead. His father, Zachariah Scrooge. Dead as a doornail. Dead as the embers in a long-forgotten fire. Dead. Gone. Dead.

“He’s… what?” Scrooge whispered, mouth agape.

Fan nodded, her eyes filled with such strength despite her tears. “He got sick shortly after you and Jacob got into business together. He never stopped using those damn cigarettes, and it caught up with him.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?” Scrooge asked timidly, dreading the answer.

“Of course I did, but you changed your number, and you were busy with the whole success of your video game, and I was too busy with my music, and I couldn't get through to you. We lost touch, Ebenezer. And by the time I found out where you were, it was too late. Dad was already gone.”

Scrooge sank into a nearby chair, processing the revelation. He had carried the weight of resentment toward his father for years, not knowing that the man he held a grudge against was no longer part of the living world. The room seemed to close in on him, and he felt a mix of emotions: Regret, sadness, and an odd sense of relief.

“I never got to say goodbye.” Scrooge whispered, his voice cracking.

“I didn’t either.” Fan sat with him. “I was on tour in the States when it happened.”

“No one was with him?”

“No one.” Fan toyed with her necklace, a gift from her wife. “The only ones who were at his bedside were the hospital staff. He died alone, Ebenezer. And I couldn't be there for him."

Scrooge felt a lump forming in his throat. The weight of his anger and resentment toward his father suddenly transformed into a profound sense of loss and missed opportunities. He had spent years harbouring negative feelings, unaware that the person he resented was no longer there to bear witness.

"I'm sorry, Fan," Scrooge whispered, tears streaming down his face. "I didn't know."

"It's alright, Ebbie. We all have our burdens to bear," Fan replied, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the unspoken grief and the shared pain of their fractured family hanging in the air. In that moment, Scrooge realised that life was too short for grudges, and he couldn't afford to waste any more time clinging to past grievances.

"Fan…" Scrooge began. “I—”

“Tito Ben! Mum! Are you coming down?!”

They looked further down the hall through which Fred's voice echoed, breaking the solemn atmosphere. Fan wiped away her tears, and Scrooge took a deep breath, pushing himself up from his chair and pulling his dear and most beloved younger sister up with him.

"We're coming, Fred!" Fan called back, her voice steady.

And come along they did! The groceries by which their surprise guest had acquired were put to good use, and then some. Scrooge and Aurora, by themselves, could hold a feastly spread fit for the royal family themselves, but none could compare when both had gotten to work with the diligence and concentration of professional culinarians. The bright-eyed Frederick, God bless his soul, had to be pulled away from the banana leaves by his eager mothers before he snatched it all up, and took it to weave into a makeshift basket, a star, a tray, and leave none left for the table. The poor boy was as impatient as ever, and none would expect that he was but a teenager entering manhood with Fan scolding him for his hastiness. But even she, in her dutiful maturity, watched on with bated breath as the two people she held most dear shuffled out of the kitchen, balancing their masterpieces with all the care they could afford it. Which was to say, they afforded much!

A perfectly trimmed banana leaf housed an enormous crispy pata, skin crackling with perfection, and a sawsawan — vinegar, soy sauce, patis, chilli peppers, and garlic — awaited its first dip. A serving dish with caldereta had been so filled to the brim with tender beef, potatoes, and carrots that one might wonder how the dish could possibly contain any liquid at all. The sinigang, both salmon and chicken separated steaming pots, sent savoury aromas wafting through the air, while a bowl of shrimp adobo showcased plump, succulent crustaceans bathing in a rich, garlicky sauce. And that had not even included the items not upon the table, for the bibingka and puto bumbong, freshly steamed and generously slathered with butter and niyog, waited patiently in the kitchen for their turn to make an appearance.

But truly, Scrooge could not help to taint — Aurora’s words, not mine own — the festivities with British staples, and so he had also prepared a hearty Christmas pudding, dense and rich with brandy-soaked fruits, and a decadent trifle layered with sponge cake, custard, fruit, and whipped cream. The dinner had been nothing short of a magical symphony of cultures, a combination of a family long since torn apart from years of heartbreak, now slowly mending.

And even when there had been worries that it was too much, that all those dishes would go to waste, so came Preslan and his siblings, all ten in total along with the pregnant matriarch and jolly patriarch, stepping through bearing gifts of beer. And in came in Pastelle, having long since forgiven her superior for slamming the door upon her, and offered merely a playful elbow with the promise of never to slam a cab door in her face ever again, to which Scrooge wholeheartedly agreed, and everyone else had laughed at to his chagrin. 

It was perfect in every sense, in every fibre of every being. Though to Scrooge, it could have been a bit more, in the company of some few others.

So now, even amidst all the revelry and gluttony, I felt it prudent to remind you all of the two souls currently in Royal London Hospital upon this very day, their thoughts persisting in the back of the CEO’s mind. Oh, my loyal bookworm, if you had thought me neglectful enough to forget to mention dear Marley, and the babe that was Tiny Tim, you should know that I am not one to overlook such crucial parts of this narrative.

It was not that Scrooge did not wish to visit his husband and the boy that was his secretary’s youngest, far from it. But the truth of the matter was that even with his newfound lease on life, he was as welcome to the hospital ward as a fox was to a henhouse. No doubt, the hospital staff had not forgotten the cold, arrogant man who had barged into their premises just days ago, demanding to see his husband and causing a commotion.

There were plans to visit at the end of the day, when the quietude of the night would make his presence less disruptive, but those plans had altered. For when the dishes had been cleared away, Scrooge received a message on his phone from FULTON, the urgency made painfully aware with the exclamatory emojis.

FULTON: Mr. Scrooge, you must head to the office at once.

“Can’t it wait, FULTON?” Scrooge asked, visibly annoyed as he wiped his hands on a washcloth.

“I don’t think it can, monsieur.” Pastelle continued, stepping into the kitchen with a furrowed brow and her own phone to her ear. 

“What is it, Miss Talon?”

“It’s M. Cratchit, monsieur.” Pastelle listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line. “The receptionist says that he’s gone quite mad.”

Ignoring the oddity of the receptionist still being at her desk on Christmas Day, Scrooge’s countenance darkened in an instant. He put away the last few bits of cutlery and utensils, then bid his family farewell as both Pastelle and Preslan, the truest of colleagues, flanked him with purpose and rode to Canary Wharf, and to Asplex Industries.

“Cratchit!” Scrooge growled out the surname as he strode into the building, and his heart raced at the sight before him.

The lobby of Asplex was decidedly bare and bereft of Christmas decorations, both due to Scrooge and Marley’s previous disdain for the holiday and the unspoken rule between their fearful colleagues to never drop even a single bauble without express permission. But this was Bob Cratchit, and Scrooge knew he would be in no mood to play nice.

So to see a real Christmas tree, a true spruce the size of a small car, adorned with twinkling lights and sparkling tinsels and an array of baubles, standing tall and proud in the middle of the lobby was nothing short of a shocking spectacle. And upon a ladder against the tree stood Bob, wearing a Santa hat and clashing Christmas-themed accessories, singing at the top of his lungs as he scattered confetti and tossed candy canes into the air while the rest of the Cratchit family cheered him on from beneath, with Zoe and Oliver chasing each other in circles around the bark.

“Bob Cratchit!” Scrooge called again. “What in God’s name are you doing up there?!”

Bob continued singing as he hooked a bauble into a branch, and Scrooge fought the urge to take the ladder from the rungs and pull it away.

“I know you can hear me, Cratchit!”

“I choose not to, Scrooge!” Bob yelled back.

“He chooses not to, Scrooge.” Emily moved to Scrooge’s side.

Scrooge muttered that he wasn’t deaf, blasted woman, and stepped in closer,  yelling at Bob to get down from there.

“Why? So you can tear this thing down?!” Bob fired.

“So I don’t have to pay for you getting your bloody spine broken!” Scrooge retorted, flabbergasted at the absurdity of the situation, before turning to Emily in hushed tones. 

“You’re his wife, goddamn it! Do something!” Scrooge hissed. “Both of you have a baby in the hospital!”

Emily sighed and walked over to the base of the ladder, looking up at her husband with a mix of exasperation and concern. "Bob, darling, can you please come down? You're scaring everyone."

Bob stopped his festive fervour for a moment, looking down at his wife with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Emily, my love, it's Christmas! The time of joy and celebration! Why should I come down when I can spread the holiday spirit from up here?"

"Because if you fall and break something, you won't be spreading any joy from a hospital bed!" Emily shot back, her patience wearing thin.

"And who's going to pay for that?" Bob retorted, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Scrooge felt his temper rising. "For heaven's sake, Cratchit! Get down from there before I call security!"

Bob's laughter echoed through the lobby. "You wouldn't dare. It's Christmas, Scrooge! Even you wouldn't stoop that low."

Scrooge clenched his fists as his nails dug into the wood of the ladder. “Robert Cratchit, as your superior, I am ordering you to get down there this instant, before I… before I…”

“...before I wish you a happy holiday, and triple your salary!”

The whole of the lobby fell into a silence, then, and Scrooge’s grip loosened almost immediately at the sound. The familiar voice that echoed through the room, once nothing more than a hiss.

And there he turned, and there he stood. Jacob Marley, in all of his glory as the wounded Snake of London, donning a hospital gown, bearing a crutch, and grinning with all the madness of a man who had just played the best prank of his life.

“Jacob!” Scrooge exclaimed, rushing towards him.

Marley smirked, gripping his husband’s shoulder with his good hand. “Hey love. Miss me?”

Martha and Peter emerged from behind the tree, exuding all the essence of tomfoolery, the former of which held a sleeping babe, swathed in a blanket of embroidered snowflakes, and a name. A very simple name: Tim.

“When…? Why…? How the fuck are you out of the hospital?” Scrooge breathed out to Marley. “I don’t believe for a second that they discharged you so quickly.”

“They didn’t.” Marley shrugged despite the pain. “I have ten, maybe twenty minutes, before they realise I’m missing and chase after me.”

“And Tim?”

“Discharged an hour ago.” Bob said, having finally climbed down from above, and took Tim into his arms. “Emily and I were going to just head home when Mr. Marley decided to drag me into an escape plan.”

“You broke out?!” Scrooge shot Marley a look of incredulity. “Have you gone mad?!”

“Oh, how very scandalous, M. Marley.” Pastelle crossed her arms, smirking in amusement.

“Now that’s what ye’d be callin’ loyalty, lads!” Preslan laughed boisterously, playfully shoving Pastelle. “Git yerself a fella like that!”

The speakers in the lobby boomed as FULTON played a messy mix between a wolf whistle and a clap track.

Scrooge smiled warmly at the cheek between the three candidates. Three candidates that, for the longest time, he thought were mere eccentricities, rascals in a world of professionalism. The C-suite executives that the world deemed mad and chaotic. But in that moment, surrounded by their antics, he realised that they were a part of his family too. His odd, dysfunctional, and utterly lovable family.

“Does it hurt?” Scrooge asked softly, holding Marley’s right arm. It was bandaged from shoulder to elbow, and no doubt hiding the burns seared into him by a cursed gas tanker.

Marley winced, but managed to answer all the same. “Like a bitch, but I’ll live. Doctors said I bore the brunt of the accident when I shielded Tim from the rubble.”

“Jacob…” Scrooge wanted to chastise him for such recklessness, but the words were undermined by something else. “Listen… I know about Jorkin, and… the contract.”

Scrooge mentally cursed himself as he watched Marley visibly deflate. 

“I was going to tell you.”

“I know.”

“I really didn’t want to leave you.”

“I know.” Scrooge cupped Marley’s head in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. “I don’t blame you if you wanted to abandon Asplex… I’ve been a shitty partner, through and through.”

“Now hold on—”

“I love you, Jacob Alexander Thorne Marley.” Scrooge spoke finally, truthfully. “I love you so… so much. I don’t want you to leave but… I-I won’t stop you. You deserve better than this toxic, rotten, miserable monster like me."

"Scrooge—"

"I ruined you." Scrooge stammered and cried, his voice growing hoarse and muted. "I… I ruined you the moment I defined our relationship by a label we couldn't have. By expectations this bullshit mess of a world heaped upon us. You shouldn’t have to stay, Jacob, you shouldn’t have to—”

“I love you too, you bastard.” Marley whispered, silencing him in an instance. He had said it so easily. God, how could he say it so easily?

“...Why?” Scrooge gasped out so timidly.

“I don’t know.” Marley laughed, wincing slightly. “I really don’t know. Maybe it’s because we’ve both done so much shit that I can’t imagine anyone else accepting me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been abandoned so many times that I’m selfish enough to latch onto your sorry ass. Maybe it’s because you're the only one who has seen the real me and still stuck around. Or maybe it's just that stubborn, idiotic part of me that believes we can get through anything together.”

Scrooge couldn't help but chuckle through his tears. "That's not much of a declaration of love, Marley."

"Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't." Marley leaned in, kissing away his tears. "But it's true. I love you, Ebenezer Lysandre Percival Scrooge, and I'm not going anywhere. Not without you."

A relieved smile crossed Scrooge's face. "You really are mad, Jacob."

"If this is madness, then I don’t want to be sane.”

It wasn’t enough, they both knew that. There was too much left unspoken, too many wounds festering from years of greed and selfishness, too many links in the chains they had yet to break apart fully. But they were not the same men they had been, for they had love. True, genuine, disgusting, messy love. Love they finally admitted. Love they finally cherished.

For years, they had kissed in so many ways, so many times, so many places. But this one meant so much more. For it held the weight of those three simple words, taken for granted in an Oxford dictionary’s worth of pages, but held so much weight in the context of our lives.

With pressed lips, they had felt the passion of devotion more addicting than any drug, and more intoxicating than any drink.

And it held on, even as Bob finally caused them to pull away.

“Forgive me for interjecting, Mr. Scrooge, Mr. Marley. But I have a burning question.”

Still somewhat dazed, Scrooge looked at him with a loopy smile. “What is it, Cratchit?”

Bob smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Do you still plan to triple my salary, sir?”

The whole lobby burst into laughter, a joyous sound that echoed through the empty halls of Asplex Industries on Christmas Day.

Marley chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine, Cratchit. You’ve earned it.”

Bob threw his arms up in victory. “Praise the Lord Himself!”

“But we expect you to contact Save the Children International.” Scrooge pointed at his secretary. “And tell them we’re donating the agreed amount and then some! Do that, and we might consider quadrupling it!”

This time, it had been Emily who shrieked with joy. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”

Oh, what a miracle it was, indeed! Humbled by their humanity, Scrooge and Marley had done it all, and kept their word better than any contract ever could. The promised candidates had found their places by the Shark and the Snake’s sides at the board, and lived by the vows and the standards they had set for themselves. And to Tiny Tim, who grew stronger and kinder than all expected him to, they had been godfathers. Asplex Industries no longer became associated with the inherent selfishness of corporate greed, but a beacon of hope and the proof of the innate capacity within us all to change for the better. There were sceptics, of course, with infamous journalists and spiteful competitors who aimed to discredit their transformation, to consider them a weakened powerhouse. Scrooge and Marley let them talk and whisper, for they themselves knew the full measure of their hearts, knew well that there would always be doubters initially, and let them be.

So, dear reader, if you find yourself in the chill of winter or the warmth of summer, remember well the names Jacob Marley and Ebenezer Scrooge. May the lessons that they learned through suffering be imparted to us through the tale of their redemption, reminding us that it is never too late to change, even if it seems that the world itself is against us. And so, as I write the final words upon the page, I grant you all these parting words…

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Tagged: @rom-e-o@crimson-phantom-designs@quill-pen@a-christmas-carol-from-hr@ray-painter@pinkytoothlesso11

[stelly38]

First Words Meme

Rules: post the first lines of your 10 most recent fanfics.

Not quite ten, but here we are.  The first of these is still being written.  Thanks to @nervousladytraveler for the prompt.  

1) The second the door claps shut behind him, Ross knows he’s overreacted.  The glass panes rattle in their wooden frames, and the sharp slam echoes off the closed doors up and down the hallway.  -The Initiate.

2) The dress lay crumpled on the floor in a heap, at the side of the bed where it had fallen the night before, when Ross loosened the ribbons that held it together, and the garment slid from her trembling frame.  -The Morning After

3) “I don’t like it, not one bit,” Jud slurred as he took a swig of rum from the bottle.  “She too big fer ‘er boots, she is. I says to Mast’ Ross that first day ‘ee brung ‘er here, she looked like trouble was a-brewin’ in that ‘ead o’ hers.”          -Interval

4) The pretty red head sitting at the computer squinted at the screen before clicking onto another page and scrolling to the bottom. She tapped her pen against her chin and scribbled something down in her notebook, then stood and stretched her tall, willowy frame. -Like Montana Sapphire

5) Ross and Dwight stood, talking quietly, at the foot of the bed where Demelza was tucked under the covers. It was a chilly November night, and candles chased shadows from the corners of the bedroom, and added to the warmth from the fire Ross had set.  -Nampara Autumn

6) Demelza stretched under the covers and opened her eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. It took her a moment to remember she was in London, in Ross’s apartment. The covers on his side of the bed were rumpled and there was a shallow depression in the mattress from where he’d slept.  -Number Six George Street

7) The coach bumped and lurched to a halt, jolting Ross awake. He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping, but he heard the coachman dismount from above, and just then, the door opened, and the driver poked his head in, “Last stop, sir. This is Truro.”  -Gilded

8) Demelza jumped as Ross banged into the house through the kitchen door. She’d been sitting by the fire, doing some mending, when the door flew open with such force that it hit the wall before being slammed shut by her husband. It was fair to say he looked like he’d had a bad day.    -The Lesson

9) She heard the hoof beats before she saw him. Demelza was in the garden, cleaning up weeds and cutting herbs for the evening’s supper when she heard the horse approach. She stood up in time to see Ross ride through the gate of Nampara, and wondered why he was home so early. It wasn’t yet three o’clock. As he neared, she could see his arm was wrapped up and he was holding it gingerly.  -Bandages and Betrothal