#I do not have the money for a horse and i couldn't find any wild ones unfortunately

[arthursfuckinghat]

Epilogue 2 - John Marston

[durudurururu]

Linked Universe Vtubers Au

So I like Linked Universe. I also like Vtubers. The result? LU vtuber AU! This has refused to leave my brain ever since it came up and now you shall live with this too!

It's a basic modern AU but everyone is a Vtubers instead of any normal job they could have. Their Vtuber lore is the same the actual chars, but their Irl counterparts are different. I'll talk about the agency the characters are in later, so have some fact about them!!

The chain

Sky

Married to Sun.

The one's who's been a Vtuber the longest.

30yrs (may change)

Was a pilot before becoming a vtuber due to his wife thinking he would like it.

Was indie before being recruited by the agency (Was called Crimson).

Time

Oldest in the Chain

46yrs

Was still raised in the forest, but not by a tree

Has a teenage daughter named Navi (had her at 31, she's now 15yrs)

Learnt her to speak Kokiri.

Married to Malon

Only have a few cuckoos and some horses instead of a whole ranch.

Only became a Vtuber since his wife and daughter likes them and he wouldn't mind some extra income.

Has a toggle in his model to turn into the Fierce Deity.

In a April fool'd stream he has a 3D model of Time as a kid which he used the whole day.

Warriors

25yrs.

Twins with Linkle and lives with her in an apartment in Castle Town.

Used to live out in the country but moved away since he doesn't have the best relationship with his dad.

Hides his accent, uses a quite posh one.

Worked full time at a make up store in the morning and did night security shifts at 3 times a week before becoming a Vtuber.

Quit because it was making his health way worse and he had more wiggle room when Linkle moved in as she (supringly) also had a job.

Became a Vtuber due to the extra wiggle room. Wanted to be one since they helped him through some tough times.

Wind and Arryl (his cousins) visit him on occasion, and he loves them.

Wind found out his Vtuber identity immideatly, but is not a snitch.

Dating Arthemtis.

Crazy ex Cia that he still had traumas from.

Wild

24yrs

Married to Flora

Used to date Mipha before the accident.

She lived in another country and though she wanted to give him her support, she often couldn't, and since so much about him changed with the memory loss, she sadly had to cut her losses and break up, even if Wild technically didn't know it at the time.

Still looses his memories, but now because of a car crash. His parents died in it and though his sister survived, she didn't go in a coma but went to an unknown relative. Happened when he was 19, awoke when he was 20.

Wheelchair bound but can technically walk and stand, just not good.

Does his best to hide the fact that he's disabled.

His model does not have any scars because of this as he wants it to be perfect, unlike himself (yes, he is in therapy, because who thinks he isn't perfect?)

Became a Vtuber as it was difficult to find jobs he could do whilst wheelchair bound that doesn't pay like shit or force him to move away for college. He also really liked them regardless.

Trans (FtM). Had surgery before the accident and didn't know until he was 21.

Most popular of the chain.

Four

4 streamers in one channel.

Green, Blue, Vio, and Red

Blacksmiths, but has some extra jobs as it doesn't pay too well.

Quadruplets.

20yrs.

Became Vtubers because of Shadow and since they wanted the extra money.

All their desks (+Shadow's) are right next to each other.

Both streams alone and with each other. Rarely all 4 unless it's a special occasion.

Has a model that all four can control at once. Yes, it absolute chaos.

Their individual models are just coloured differently than that one ^^, otherwise looks the same.

Streams at least 4 times a week, one day for each of them.

Green

Dating Dot.

Works part time at a café

Helps with planning their streams and any collabs that their manager doesn't do for them.

Blue

Works at an animal shelter when he's free.

Has almost ruined his set up too many times to count due to gamer rage.

Vio

Dating Shadow, but hiding it...kind of. They're playing up their relationships for jokes and the community ships them to all hell.

Has a Shadow body pillow that doesn't exist Irl (yet) that their model sometimes holds during streams.

Non binary (they/them).

A bit goth.

Works at a library.

Red

Aromantic and Asexual!

Calls his fans his Rubies.

Everyone—including the rest of the chain—will protect him with their life.

Works at a a cat café. It is a different café than Green, and he hides that he's jealous about being able to work there.

Hyrule

Lives in the middle of nowhere and does not know where anything is.

Somehow lives off of hunting (don't worry, he has a license) and the instant noodles etc he buys from the store that's very close to the middle of fuck who knows where.

Somehow still used Internet Explorer when he started. Did not know what Firefox was until Legend explained it to him.

Refused to use Chrome as he didn't know how to change his browser.

Still shocked at being a functioning Vtuber.

Became one because money was getting tight and since he grew up in a village in the middle of fuck who knows where, didn't have too many good jobs he could have.

Legend

24yrs.

Married to Ravio.

Still refuses to wear pants.

Puts even more of a tsundere act when on camera.

Has quite a posh accent but hides it and uses one that's actually normal.

Twins with Fable

Twillight

25yrs.

Dated Midna, but she suddenly broke up with him and he's still slightly heart broken.

Time's (technically Malon's) nephew.

Got a country accent.

Sadly had to move out of Odinia because of college. Now works part time at a veterenarions clinic.

Became a Vtuber because it sounded fun even though he wasn't the biggest fan of it at the time.

On his debut stream he found a toggle to turn his model into a wolf and Legend send a donation just to call him a furry.

Wind

15yrs/18yrs

Doesn't join the agency until he's 18, and he's 15 for most of the stories that I have planned. This may change.

Warriors' cousin. Often visits because his Grandma can't take care of them every day, especially Aryll.

Slowly starts to join streams even though Warriors is very reluctant. Warriors' fans love him.

About the agency and some lore:

The agency is called Fates and their theme is good vs evil. Their first wave was called Inception and had four members: First, Fi, Hylia, and Demise.

They were suprisingly successful, but after 1 year, Demise took a break because of some bad rumours about him started to spread, and not long after, First graduated due to personal issues.

Fates was already in the progress of adding more members, and eventually the new wave by the name of Clouds came out, having 2 new members: Sky—a former indie Vtuber by the name of Crimson—and Ghirahim, who was also an indie before joining the company.

Everything went great, Demise coming back to streaming...but then the rumours came back, and they found out that they weren't just rumours. Demise was quickly terminated as he had been harrasing fans on an alt account, then Ghirahim got terminated as he had been meeting with his fans Irl and given them special bonuses, which even went for outside of his streams.

As a way to save their image, Fates let out a new wave by the name of Destruction shortly after, having 3 members: Vaati, Dark, and Shadow.

Both Sky and the members of Destruction got a fair amount of hate, mostly from people saying that the company is simply trying to replace First and Demise with cheap knock offs.

Fates has open Vtuber auditions for the first time since the agency started, and recruit 7 people that joins a wave called The Chain: Time, Wild, Legend, Hyrule, Twillight, Warriors, Four.

Later they would open auditions again, and have a new wave by the name of Mortality with 4 members: Impa, Calamity, Majora, and Ganondorf.

Other important characters:

First

Most popular member when he was still streaming

Hand picked Sky as his succesor

Fi

Though she technically didn't graduate, rarely streams any more. Now is a higher up in the company.

Helped Sky find his footing at the start.

Sometimes holds Vtuber game shows with Shadow

Hylia/Zelda

The most popular streamer in the agency.

Often has collabs with Indie Vtubers and Impa.

The best at the game show Shadow hosts.

Was re-named to Zelda because of continued harrasment for sharing a name with the goddess.

Has been a Vtuber for (at least) 3yrs.

Vaati

Graduated after 2 years due to the continued hate.

Still talks with Shadow and Dark.

20yrs when he graduated.

Shadow

21yrs.

Lives with the Four gremblins and is dating Vio.

They are way too gay for each my Lord.

From Lolrule.

Darker skinned.

Used to work at the same library as Vio. Only there because no other place would accept him.

Was with the bad boys in High school, is getting better now.

Likes holding game shows for other Vtubers.

Dark

23yrs.

From Lolrule.

Darker skinned.

Quite shy but doesn't show it much.

Can be very childish.

Dyselxic. Why? Because I say so.

People always said he was a teaser for another Vtuber, which was technically true, but he still didn't like hearing it.

[theentropiceye]

Act 1 - 2

The Trio and the Sclera

As the day gives way to the afternoon, Gwen finds herself crouching low, behind a jagged cluster of cobblestone and without her horse. Her breath is faltering, but silenced by the endless cycles of waves, and her eyes are narrowed as she eavesdrops on the three figures that jumped into the water hours ago, standing near her current hideout. 

One of them stands out - notoriously taller than the rest, with broad shoulders and jagged, withered teeth. His pale, black-speckled skin contrasts with the blacker pirate-like jacket lined with golden details. A massive diamond broadsword rests at his side. 

The second figure, slimmer and restless, paces nearby. His head, bizarrely hammer-shaped, gives him wide, alert vision. A red coat with gold trim hangs loosely over a light shirt and beige trousers. A diamond rapier sways at his hip, secured in a golden scabbard. 

The third, striped with tiger-like markings, radiates ferocity. Saber fangs protrude from his mouth, and his sharp green eyes burn with intensity. Fins along his head and back add to his wild demeanor. He wears dark blue pants lined with gold, leaving his chest bare. Golden bracelets glint on his wrists, accentuating the diamond claws he flexes idly. 

They seem to be discussing about something. 

TALLER INDIVIDUAL (Grumbling.): "How the fuck long are we going to wait here? I didn't crawl out of the sea and beat the shit out of two golems just to sit around." 

HAMMERHEAD INDIVIDUAL: "Oh, shut up, will you? (He raises one arm, clenching his fist) The less attention we draw, the better." 

TALLER INDIVIDUAL: "I couldn't give a fuck about the attention. For all I care, we could've just stormed into the walls and finished the job, but you just went on this 'incognito' bullshit because you're fucking coward!" 

FERAL INDIVIDUAL: "Grrrrr…." 

HAMMERHEAD INDIVIDUAL (Turns to him): "You too, shut up! You can't even speak!" 

FERAL INDIVIDUAL (Low growl.): "Rrrgh…" 

HAMMERHEAD INDIVIDUAL (Sighs and turns to the white shark): "And it'’s called strategy. You should try it sometime." 

TALLER INDIVIDUAL: "Strategy doesn't give any fucking results. You saw how fast I busted those losers! We could’ve torn apart this shithole by now!" 

HAMMERHEAD INDIVIDUAL (Sarcastically.): "Oh, yes please! I'm sure the entire Order would thank you if we had them stabbing us in our sleep. I prefer gold over knives in my back, but hey! Maybe that's just me!" 

The Taller Individual steps closer to him, looming as he bares his jagged teeth. 

TALLER INDIVIDUAL: "You think you're funny, you little shit?!" 

HAMMERHEAD INDIVIDUAL (Chuckling.): "I know I am." 

Gwen, hidden behind the cobblestone, remains still as them, carefully noting each exchange. Her attention is mostly drawn to the Hammerhead Individual, as he has full panoramic vision, which translates to more chances of being detected. 

TALLER INDIVIDUAL (Growling.): "If we're wasting time, tell me what we're actually here for. Like… what the fuck do you have in mind!?" 

HAMMERHEAD INDIVIDUAL: "These losers have a Sclera on one of their temples. The Captain says that we 'negotiate' with them, but I say we loot them!" 

TALLER INDIVIDUAL (Annoyed.): "I know that part already, dickhead! Don't fucking repeat yourself like broken disc!" 

HAMMERHEAD INDIVIDUAL (Annoyed, too.): "Well, yeah! But I was thinking about evasive maneuvers! I had a gut feeling that this place would be guarded! Heck, we could've just left the golems alone, but noooooo! You just had to slaughter everyone!" 

TALLER INDIVIDUAL: "And we're way better off for that, you know. No witnesses and all." 

HAMMERHEAD INDIVIDUAL (Sigh.): "…for now. Anyhow, remember the recipe. Once we have everything, we're untouchable. We'll have a ton of money and power…" 

The Taller and Feral Individuals' eyes narrow. 

FERAL INDIVIDUAL (Low growl.): "Rrawrrgh…" 

TALLER INDIVIDUAL: "Assuming the Captain's not making it up." 

HAMMERHEAD INDIVIDUAL (Softly.): "Oh, I believe it. And so does Guzmán here! (turns at the Feral Individual) And once we get our hands on it, we'll be kings of the sea! No, we'll be the kings of the world!" 

Gwen listens to the trio intensely, laying bare before her their intentions. From what she knows, they are looking for something they call a 'Sclera'. Other than that, she has learned the name of the Feral Individual - Guzmán. 

TALLER INDIVIDUAL: "Alright, this is your idea, and you better not fucking mess up! Now let's get going before someone snoops on us!" 

And after those words, the trio depart, walking further away from Gwen and her hideout, with her heart racing as she takes into account the Taller Individual's last words. Much to her fortune - and the trio's chagrin, they have been exposed. 

She doesn’t linger. The moment the trio disappears beyond the shore, she slips out from her hiding spot, stepping lightly over the cobblestone and gravel. 

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

Within minutes, the outer walls come into view, torches flickering faintly against the coming dusk. 

The travelers, who at the time are with Arthur once again, stand near the village gate, watching over the distant shore as if expecting trouble. Gwen approaches them, and her presence draws their immediate attention. 

SANDIE (Grinning.): "Gwen, hello! Back already? Don't tell me they were pushovers." 

GWEN: "We have a problem." 

Arthur steps closer, crossing his arms, his expression hardening. 

ARTHUR: "What did you see?" 

GWEN: "I could only listen to them. The ones who attacked us earlier. I even caught the name of one of them: Guzmán." 

Sam doesn't seem to react at the mention of that name, while Sandie leans in, curious. 

SANDIE: "Ooooh… How did they look li-- oh, right, you couldn't see them." 

GWEN: "I did caught a glimpse of them. Just a little one. They look like the one at the helm of the ship, but… weirdly different. One of them had their eyes, like, so separated from the other, almost like his head was like a flat hammer, and possibly the brains of the group. Another one is… borderline feral, and the last one was possibly the worst. He was swearing all the time and he seemed like a sociopath. In fact… he's the one who killed the golems." 

SANDIE: "O-oh… that sounds really scary." 

SAM: "Wait a second. 'Flat hammer head'?" 

GWEN: "Yeah, he had a gray skin. And for that matter, the other ones had… orange and dark skin. They all had fins, gills and their mouths had white undertones. 

SAM: "And… Arthur said that they almost looked like dolphins?" 

ARTHUR: "Correct." 

Sam remains silent for a moment, with the group staring at him expectantly. 

GWEN: "Well?" 

SAM: "They are sharks." 

The word lingers in the air. Arthur’s brow knits in thought, while Gwen narrows her eyes. and Sandie raises an eyebrow. 

SANDIE: "Sharks? What is that?" 

SAM: "It's… something I thought didn’t exist around here. They're pretty much like Arthur said - they look like dolphins, but… a lot more aggressive." 

Sam continues to explain himself as the group remain utterly silent and lock their eyes on him. 

SAM: "And there's a lot of species of them. There's the hammerhead shark, tiger… shark, great white shark, and so on. (Turns at Gwen). Maybe that's why she said they looked 'weirdly different'". 

ARTHUR (Frowning slightly): "Oh, my. I know you are a traveler and have seen a lot, but I never expected you to be so… knowledgable." 

SAM: "Benefits of being one." 

SANDIE: "Well, yeah! But I wasn't expecting you to know about it either! Heck, I've traveled around so many places and I've never heard of a 'shark' before!" 

SAM: "Maybe… you never had the chance to know about them, until now." 

Gwen shifts her weight, shaking her head. 

GWEN: "Right… Anyhow, I'm sure it's interesting and all, but there's something else, too. They mentioned that their 'Captain' wanted them to 'negotiate' with us, but the… uh… hammerhead guy said that they were going to loot us. More specificly, the temple. They said that we had something called… ‘Sclera’? I don't know what it is, but whatever it means, they believe it'll make them untouchable.” 

Arthur stiffens. 

ARTHUR: “'Sclera'?… (His voice trails off, then sharpens.) Wait… don't tell me they're after… that thing these villagers have always been keeping here for who knows how long.” 

SAM: “What thing?” 

ARTHUR: "It's… something the locals know more about than I do, which is… not much, really. It's not exactly my area of expertise either, and Gwen doesn't care much for old stories... either.” 

Gwen shrugs lightly, offering no argument. 

ARTHUR: "Not that I blame her. No one can tell for sure what exactly is the Sclera, but it seems that these… uh… 'sharks' do." 

SANDIE (Lightly, though her expression darkens.): Well, guess we'll have to crash their little treasure hunt! 

GWEN: “They're moving now, you know? They're going to try and get in.” 

Arthur curses under his breath, turning towards the villagers stationed along the inner walls. 

ARTHUR: Sound the bell. I want every able-bodied fighter on watch. 

One of the armed villagers nods, dashing towards the bell tower at the village center. The sharp toll echoes through the square as golems shift in the distance, creaking to life. 

ARTHUR (Glancing at Sam and Sandie.): You two, follow Gwen. We need eyes along the coast. I'll stay with the villagers. If they come through the main gate, I want to be ready. 

SAM: “Okay.” 

SANDIE (Playfully saluting.): “Aye-aye, Commander.” 

After these words, they move quickly on foot, exiting the walls and then making their way to the outside of the island, through the main tunnel that connects the village to the shore. 

[the-firebird69]

Guy buys a McLaren and regrets it! #shorts

I think it's more appropriate to say you can lead a horse to water but my husband is saying is perfectly content with it he's just got to do a couple things extra but it runs great so I say I don't think that you're very smart person about that but didn't get to look at it looks like he's perfectly happy with

Hera

What the hell is this doing up I can't believe it and happy New Year everybody yes happy you kind of rolling around have a good time and remember my phone fell out later on it was there it was cold and it was still working what A night that was I drove home I just bought it and I couldn't get out of it it was hell it says he's just like Mom you have to swing your feet out I kind of pull yourself up so I tried it it works and I felt great so grateful and it was nice I didn't have to do that in the parking lot and stuff

Jason

You got to be kidding me we have to get you out of there this place is a nightmare what did you do he said he farted on his mouth like everybody here he's learning from his environment is a baby this is ridiculous his body is out of a three-year-old of his race you're crazy as hell this is not this whole thing is nuts it's probably him he's just creative Jesus Gone wild that is reviving a Pontiac of all companies is that it took me like years to find this it's the only way for me to make money and get my part of gold so I've had it with that talk too I don't need any more of it maybe some more green beer would be good tonight

John Gallagher

I'm not really out there with that pissy boy what is he pissy says yeah it sounded pissy and it tasted pissy it's like a pissy theme I was so pissy nothing is doing is working now he knows everybody else is I want one of those cars it's really nice and fast and powerful it doesn't look it and that's why and boy I saw you get up and move in the car that's how you run as fast and I can't believe it that's ridiculous where do you get the energy he says it's surely not from absorbing it from Ken he does it a little I can feel it. Who's with you people you mutants he says it's electric that's terrific this car looks like a lot of fun and it's the tempest and I want to get one it'll probably go around racing people and winning

Ellie

I'm going to get one too this is a great idea and we're going to buy them and hopefully Trump will make them

Bja

We're not fighting as hard as other people are it's arguably over stuff but really is bad but really this will help these cars are great

Trump I just had a thought he might get one of these because the repo Man is driving one but then again everyone's fooling around with the cars that one is a four-door

Olympus

We better stop but no this is good it's really helping out and he's going to start making the car and he's going to modernize it a little and keep it simple and he's going to make it quick and rude the way they made him back then is quick he's going to try and make it that way too

Thor Freya

I should be able to at least meet Meghan Markle in production and I didn't try to at least meet it but she wants the car and she's a fan it's like everybody is I saw that little guy getting the car and started up and start moving right away I've never seen him do that stuff he's telling her to get in the car now and she moved it and I got in and locked the doors started it is looking around and just took off that guy was pissed but he was being a jerk I can't believe what a weird guy that turns out to be he's strange

Trump

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 7:

тєи ℓєє

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @curieouscapt @whathamelon @unknown5tar @ajhdr @silent-potato

warnings: the reader is soon-to-be engaged to someone 12 years older, virginity loss, extreme lack of experience from the reader, dirty talk, Ten’s a sweetheart 😭

“He’s here!” Your mother clapped her hands excitedly, asking the butler to answer the door.

You sat with both hands squeezed on your lap. You’d never seen a male tailor, let alone be dressed by one. Would it be uncomfortable? Just as your mind was about to drift away, a man with at least four rolls of fabric entered the room.

“Good evening, my lady.” Was he even real? He looked straight out of a painting, just like the ones hanging on your wall.

“Good evening, sir.” You bowed your head gracefully, just like you'd been taught to do.

“There’s no need to be so formal.” He smiled cheekily, his eyes disappearing just the slightest and making your heart flutter with excitement. “Let us have a seat and chat a little about what kind of dress you'd like.”

Everything went so naturally with him, from sitting down and talking about the event you'd be wearing the dress to, to his hands surrounding your waist, taking your measurements.

“I was thinking of something white, my lady. After all, the goal is to get a certain gentleman to ask for your hand, isn't it?”

“How did you...?”

“Your mother is quite a chatty lady.” You sighed. She certainly had trouble keeping things a secret, the whole town probably already knew by now.

“Then I guess you already know we've known each other since we were kids, well, since I was a kid. He's twelve years older.” You sounded so excited talking about that guy that it made him smile. “Are you married, sir?”

“God, no!” He was quick to explain. “I want to devote myself to work, that's what makes me happy.”

“But imagine yourself, waiting for your beautiful bride at the church, ready to join your lives for what is left of them. Just to think about it gives me goosebumps.” To him, what you'd just said sounded like agony. Dedicating himself to another person for the rest of his life? He’d rather jump off a cliff.

“I just don't think I'm good husband material, that's all.”

As the days passed by, you got to know him better. He’d often tell you about his job, how many dresses he'd confectioned that week, how much money he'd earned, every single little detail of it. He made it sound like a dream, he spoke so passionately about it that you wondered whether you'd ever find something that would make you feel that same way.

“Good morning, my lady.” He kissed your knuckles, a devilish grin extending through his lips as he admired your flustered face. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He extended a big, white box with a red velvety ribbon keeping it closed.

“That was fast!” You opened it to reveal a pretty, lacy dress. It was exactly what you’d asked for, but then why did you feel so sad?

“What is it, my lady? Do you not like the dress?”

“No! I love it.” He smiled, pulling out the dress from it’s confinement to let you have a better look at it. It was, indeed, beautiful.

“Would you like to try it on?”

You soon found yourself behind a room divider, slipping the soft dress on. The texture was marvelous, like wearing a cloud. It would definitely draw Johnny’s attention, that’s for sure.

“How do I look?” You stepped out, spinning around to let his critic eyes have a look at his masterpiece. He squinted his eyes as if he wasn’t pleased. “What is it?”

“Your corset.”

“Huh?”

“Truth to be told, I knew this dress wouldn’t work with a traditional corset, so I might have made a special one for the occasion.” You walked to the full body mirror, taking a look at yourself.

“It looks fine to me.”

“You look too innocent, my lady.” You furrowed your eyebrows, eyes connecting with his through your reflections. “This dress wasn’t made to make you look innocent, but to make you look like a sophisticated, upper class woman.”

You went through your options and finally decided to listen to the expert.

“Do you happen to have that corset at the moment?”

“Yes, but the problem is, only I know the right way to adjust it. Would you be okay with me doing that?” You could feel cold sweat running down the back of your neck.

Only your mother and some servants had seen you naked, but never a man. It wasn’t supposed to happen unless the couple was married. However, you felt the urge to accept his proposition.

“A-alright.” He nodded, keeping a straight face as he started undressing you.

He slowly started undoing the ribbon that kept your corset in place. Still in front of the mirror, you could see his concentrated features, not looking at anything but your back. Your mounds were finally liberated, and for a split second, you could see the tailor’s eyes staring at them.

“Raise your arms please.” Was he really not going to do anything? This was the part when the two main characters exchanged a heated session of kisses according to the novels you'd read. But he kept the same stoic face all the time.

“Ten?” This was the very first time you'd called him by his real name, well, his nickname.

He didn't seem bothered by it, concentrated on adjusting your corset.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Am I not attractive?” His hands accidentally tightened the ribbons too much, making you wince.

“Sorry.” He apologized, loosening the piece of clothing. “But why are you asking me this?”

“Well...” You were ashamed to admit it, but your curiosity got the best of you. “Aren’t men supposed to go wild over breasts? At least that's what I heard.” Ten would've never expected such an inappropriate comment from you, though he couldn't say he didn't like that new boldness of yours.

“I guess so.”

“Then why didn't you go wild over mine?”

The room was filled with nothing but silence for a couple of seconds before he finally found an appropriate answer for your question.

“I’ll ask you something first.” you nodded. “If you knew men had a thing for breasts, then why did you let me do this?” You would've liked to say that it was because you deeply trusted him, but you both knew that deep down, it wasn't completely true.

“I don't know.”

“Did you want to seduce me or something like that?” You were about to reply, but his deep laugh interrupted you. “Well, since you answered my question, I shall answer yours.” he finally finished adjusting your corset, placing his hands above the curves of your waist and leaning down to whisper something. “You have the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen. They look round and soft, the perfect size to hold them with my hand. But I can't allow myself to go wild over you, not when you're about to get engaged to someone else.” So the things wrote in novels weren't entirely fantasy, things like that did happen in real life. “Trust me, I wish nothing but to pinch those pretty, perky nipples and have you begging for more. But we can't.”

“Yes, we can.” With a newly found courage, you guided his hands up until they reached your mounds. They did, in fact, fit perfectly between his hands.

“My lady-”

“Y/n.” You held his hands against your warm body. “Please, my name is y/n.”

“Stop playing with fire.” His voice had become lower, hands shaking the slightest under yours.

“I want you to play with me, Ten. Use me, do whatever you want with my body. Alleviate the ache I'm feeling between my legs.” That was his breaking point.

His expert fingers quickly undid the knots, allowing his hungry eyes to have a look at your naked torso.

“Touch me.” he turned you around, so you were directly facing him.

“So greedy.” His hands covered your chest once again, this time with no fabric in between. His palms felt so warm against your skin, you couldn’t help but sight. “Tell me, how does your little cunt feel?”

“I-I’m sorry?” His right hand went down, rubbing circles over your undergarments. Immediate relief washed over your body.

“Do you know what an orgasm is?” You shook your head, gasping as his fingers pinched your hard nub. “It’s the only way to relief the ache you feel here.” He tapped your entrance with his middle finger, feeling your wetness under his digits.

“How can I have one?”

“You’ll have to trust me, alright?” His dominant demeanor had changed to a softer one, kissing your jawline as hands sneaked inside the fabric, a new, pleasant feeling making your legs shake. “How does this feel?”

“Nice.” He retrieved his hand, you whined at the loss of contact. “Hey!”

“Jump.” He instructed, lifting you up with both of his hands below your thighs. He guided you all the way to the nearest wall, your back pressed against the concrete surface. “Sorry for this.” He muttered before ripping your undergarments apart.

Skillfully, he lowered his pants, his hard member springing up. The moment his tip started slipping into your whole, an immense amount of pain made you scream.

“Stop!” Ten frowned, pulling away but still holding you against the wall.

“Have you changed your mind about this?” There was a hint of pain peeking through his voice.

“It hurts a lot.” As if to back up your words, a small tear rolled down your cheek.

“I know, sweetheart. But that's the way it's supposed to be.” If it hurt so much, then why did people do it so often? “You just need to get used to it and it'll start feeling better, I promise.”

“Really?” For you, it didn't make any sense.

“We can stop whenever you want, just give it a try.” You hesitantly nodded, letting him align with your entrance once again. “Deep breaths, darling.”

It was the worst pain you'd ever felt, even worse than that time when you fell off a horse. But just like the tailor had said, that unpleasant feeling was soon replaced with something else...something that made your tummy feel warm.

“You're doing so well.” He praised as if he wasn't the one doing all the hard work while you held onto his shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I need to pee.” You gasped, letting your head rest against the wall.

“Don't hold it back, darling. It means you're close.” His large hands caressed your sides, holding you tightly.

“Ten...” You whimpered, biting his clothed shoulder to stop yourself from screaming in pleasure. Something inside you exploded, making your body shake in ecstasy.

“Y/n.” You both whispered your names, pleasure taking over your minds.

“May I kiss you?” There was no response from him, his length still pulsating inside you. “If you don't want to that's-”

“Kiss me.” Your lips came closer to each other, barely millimeters away when a loud knock abruptly interrupted the moment.

“Miss y/n, Mr. Seo is here to see you.” Johnny, you'd completely forgotten about him.

“I guess you better get dressed.” He pecked your cheek, setting a fire inside you.

“I'm sorry.” He helped you put on your dress again, smiling at the sight of you trying to stop your and his essence from dripping down your bare thighs.

“Don't be.” Ten fixed your hair, proceeding to gather his stuff before sending a wink in your direction. “I guess I'll see you in a week to help you get dressed...my lady.”

[jaskiersvalley]

Found out about the zine from your post and absolutely had to buy a copy, I couldn't miss out on any of your amazing work!

You are in for an absolute treat with the zine. I’ve had the great privilege of seeing all the art and stories created for it and let me tell you, there whole thing is laden with incredible content. Both art and fic alike are some of the best things you’ll encounter in the fandom.

As a little extra, here’s a ficlet of thanks for spending your hard earned money on supporting the zine!

The truth of the matter was, Jaskier had gone out in search of the Butcher of Blaviken. He’d followed rumours of the witcher’s whereabouts, tracked him down. It was every bard’s hope to find inspiration and a story to turn into a truly outstanding piece and Jaskier was convinced he would find it with the Butcher.

There was a lot he expected when he finally found the witcher. Violence, barely restrained rage, animalistic habits, maybe even witnessing the Butcher eat raw meat. All the rumours and whispered theories about witchers that made them inhuman and something terrible. Yet Jaskier didn’t see any of that. Sure, he got punched in the gut, there were more grunts and hums than speaking and even the well known stand-offish growling. But it didn’t feel like Jaskier was trailing after a monster bred for hunting creatures. Not once did Jaskier get the feeling of being in the presence of something less human, more wild. It was disconcerting and, frankly, quite disappointing.

The Butcher of Blaviken had a name he preferred to be called by rather than the grim moniker. He also had a soft spot for his horse, harmless animals and children. Not that anybody would believe it. Even Jaskier had thought it was some ploy to start with. But Geralt kept up with the charade and the longer it went on, the more Jaskier was convinced it wasn’t an elaborate ploy. Nobody could keep up talking to their horse like that while brushing her if they didn’t mean it.

What had initially been a planned day with the Butcher of Blaviken turned into weeks with Geralt. Not a single drop of inspiration could be found for a bloodthirsty epic or a stirring ballad extolling the violence of a witcher. In fact, Jaskier stood back as an observer and watched how the rumours and common ‘knowledge’ about witchers seemed to cause nothing but misery for Geralt. More than once he was run out of town after a contract. Or paid less than promised because he didn’t do the job like the locals had expected. Some nights, Jaskier was certain he heard Geralt’s stomach rumbling in hunger but he never dared mention it. Especially when Geralt had gruffly shoved the squirrel on the skewer at Jaskier with a growl of “I can’t sleep when your stomach wails louder than your mouth.” Somehow, Jaskier suspected that there was more to it than Geralt let on.

His suspicions were proven right because, over time, Geralt seemed to take care of Jaskier in his own distant way. More stops at inns that would have then, larger portions of food foisted on Jaskier and there was also the appearance of a bedroll on Roach’s saddlebags for him to use. It all served to do one thing for Jaskier. It made him feel guilty.

Guilty for wanting to use Geralt as a leaping point for his own gains. Guilty for thinking Geralt to be an emotionless, unfeeling humanoid creature. Guilty for thinking Geralt didn’t care. It also made Jaskier rage. He was learning to read Geralt’s expressions and sounds. While on the surface it looked like he didn’t care, Jaskier could read the dejection in the slope of his shoulders, the resigned anger in the set of his jaw. When a tavern refused to serve them food or drink, nobody saw Geralt tiredly trudge through the countryside with Roach to ensure at least she had a nice patch to graze and rest on. The worst, Jaskier thought, were the times Geralt got injured. Nobody would believe that witchers felt pain or needed healers. Their bodies were weapons, nothing more. The first time Jaskier offered to help Geralt, he’d been snarled at. But, by the fifth time, Jaskier felt confident enough to simply take the salve and bandages from Geralt’s hands and set to work. He’d never had a more tense body under his hands. It probably didn’t help that they had barely been paid for a contract and then turned out of the village. So Jaskier was inclined to think that Geralt was more tense than usual. However, he only started to relax after the eighth time Jaskier helped him patch up a wound.

All through it, Jaskier was slowly realising that he wasn’t following a hand reared killer. Under all the pretence and gruffness, there was very much a human hidden there. One who had no idea what to do with gentleness, with company, with kindness. The first time Jaskier kissed Geralt, it had led to a whole two days of frowning and furtive glances. Until, finally, Geralt had asked “what do you want?”

Which opened up a whole new course of dialogue. Well, monologue with some grunts in reply. It seemed Geralt wasn’t familiar with the concept of having things like affection freely offered. All that mean was that Jaskier would show him what it could be like. And, while he was at it, he would work on changing the whole continent’s view on witchers. They deserved so much more than they got. That view only strengthened when Geralt took him back to Kaer Morhen one winter and Jaskier met the other wolf witchers. Suddenly, he didn’t just have on witcher to emotionally rehabilitate. He had four.

[indigobackfire]

HPHM MC Profile ✧

Indigo Silverwood

“ Getting near you is like stretching my hand into an open flame. I know I’ll burn myself, yet I crave the heat. ”

Nicknames: Indie. Didi (only by family). Silverwood. Silvie (by people who don't bother learning her name).

Gender: Female.

Birthday: 6th of March, 1973.

Born: Edinburgh, Scotland.

Mother: Clarin (née Tramer) Silverwood - Half-blood, Ravenclaw, English.

Father: Palmer Silverwood - Pureblood, Slytherin, Scottish.

Siblings: Jacob Silverwood (b. 1968), Phoenix Nobleworth Silverwood (b. 1973) - Phoenix was adopted after the death of his parents when he was just a couple of months old.

Ethnicity: Scottish, English, (probably with some Spanish roots).

Sexuality: Straight.

MBTI Type: ENFP-A

Blood Status: Half-blood (by her muggle grandmother on her mother's side).

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor.

Appearance

Eyes: Naturally yellow/golden/amber (nobody knows why, since their parent’s eyes are brown) but both hers and Jacob's eyes are like this). She wears glasses for her Astigmatism.

Hair: Naturally dark brown, but she asked her mother to turn it red when she turned 8 and doesn't plan on undoing it any soon.

• She’s average tall and reasonably strong build, honey-brown skin littered with scars from venturing with the vaults and being freaking attacked by dark wizards, big hands and feet due to her height. A large chest that grows at once in her 4th year (”Everybody's starring, Rowan!”).

• She keeps her nails short. Her makeup is often down to just some lipstick (mascara smudges her glasses, eye shadow irritates her eyes), her hair is often long wavy and fluffed for extra volume. She often smells like coconut oil from all the creams her mother insisted she used.

• She looks a lot like her father which gives her a rather rough look - like a handsome but wild animal - yet has enough of her mother’s attributes to be considered attractive and poise if well-groomed.

Magical Aspects

1st Wand: Red Oak wood with Dragon Heartstring core, 12″, pliable. "The true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect dueling wand. Its ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive spells, and a good person to have beside in a fight." Indigo had good times with her red oak wand but as the years went by, her emotions start affecting the wand's efficiency. The wand would bleed a glowing red light in moments of extreme physical or emotional pain and become extremely unstable.

2nd Wand: Beechwood with Thestral hair core, 13", rigid flexibility. "The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond their years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation." Indigo has a hard time adapting to her new wand, it's stubborn to her spells and acts upon its own will especially considering its unusual and unstable core, Thestral hair, which is of unknown habilities, except for its use in the mythical, Elder wand. Her wand is one of a kind which is why she has to adapt her abilities to match the wand's requirements. Despite all, it's a remarkable instrument for undoing curses/spells and detecting danger.

Animagus: Somali cat. She's already certain she wants to be a cat animagus - harmless, of easy blend, and enables an approach to humans -, but decides for the Somali breed, during the process, for its sumptuous golden fur and agility.

Patronus: Kangaroo, for its fighting spirit and family values, not to mention its strength. (In-game it's the Abraxan, but only because I thought it would be cool.)

Patronus memory: (During the first times) Her first Quidditch match, not just because they won but because everyone she loves from Hogwarts was there, and she got to cheer their victory together. (Later years) Her family gathering for hot cocoa during a rainy night with Jacob with them.

Abilities: Legilimency, and great emotional influence over magic (Don't get her frightened or angry or she will blow you up).

Boggart:  Her boggart changes constantly - she can't decide if it's either because she overcame the old fears, or if the new ones toppled those, creating a pile of fears. And since the new DADA teacher is always teaching Riddikulus again and again, the famous curse-breaker is always the most awaited in the line.

Jacob, eyes dark and musty, clothes covered in blood, someone's blood. He walks to her and slowly raises his sleeve, the Death mark is craved deep in his flesh and it glows. Behind him, it rises the Dark Lord.

Riddikulus: He turns into a younger version of himself from a photograph she recalls laughing about with her mom (he's running wearing a loaded diaper, crazy hair, rosy cheeks).

For a while is someone in a cloak threatening to cast the killing curse over her friends, whispering each of their names like a snake but she's frozen unable to stop them.

Riddikulus: The cloak falls to reveal a bunch of gnomes piled up wearing wigs and makeup.

For another, very realistic corpses of all of her friends spread at her feet, a dark wizard across from her, it's over and there isn't anything she can do to save them anymore - it was a grim day in DADA, but they all wanted to see it didn't they?

Riddikulus: This is the one time she fails to defeat a boggart, letting the horrible scene consume her, she falls to her knees defeated, and even after Rakepick's shouting, when she tries to cast the spell, it fails again and again.

This last boggart came to show everyone around her how truly terrified she was, not for her own life, but for that of those around her. How despite the confidence she was constantly displaying, in reality, she was afraid she couldn't save them from whatever was trying to get her.

Amortentia: Her Amortentia smells like Jacob's cologne — which he used to borrow from their father which is why she recalls so easily —, fresh Catnip ever since she became an animagus, bakings just out of the oven — extra intensity if there's chocolate involved, and freshly washed sweaters (from hugging Barney and the Weasleys).

Mirror of Erised: She's under the shadow of a tree, Jacob on one side along with Phoenix and Aspen, Barnaby's head resting on her lap, Rowan by her side, and Orion for some reason. They're laughing and reading books, it's an eternal spring afternoon.

Miscellaneous

Pets: A Sphynx cat, Mocca, a brown and white rat, Franccesca, and (later in her Hogwarts years) a Great Horned owlet, Plum.

Things she always carries with her: Her wand (duh), a handmade Gryffindor bracelet that used to belong to Jacob, the Handbook of Magical Theory, a handful of peppermints, a pouch with some money, a flask of Wideye potion, some Murtlap Essence, and a family photo during Christmas of 1980.

Lucky Amulets: She has a dream catcher made by Phoenix from feathers he shed during transformations and a "broken" knight from Murphy's chessboard who decided to leave the game for good and now sleeps on Indigo's nightstand with its horse, she likes stroking the horse the night before every Quidditch match

Best Friends

Her brother, Phoenix, takes the crown in matter of importance because, well, they're siblings who grew up practically like twins, but their relationship deserves their own detailing.

Rowan has got to be the first. Not only they share the same adventurous nerdy spirit, but Rowan also is the one to stick around even when everything is dark and uncertain and Indigo's popularity plummets. Indigo is always excited to hear whatever Rowan has to say - most times about books or Bill Weasley - and she's rarely fazed by the weird things Rowan does.

Murphy McNully is a close second, having officially met in the middle of her second year, they're both still fresh in a matter of friendships which allows them to open up, both in desperate need of company and support. He's often a companion in the girl's library and common room study sessions and sits with them during meals.

Charlie Weasley has her heart and soul from the moment they first speak during year one, but it actually takes a while until they form any real bond, which begins after he finds out she has been seeking his brother's help to search for the cursed vaults.

Ben is a friend she cherishes deeply but often finds it hard to break through his protective shell which makes him feel distant even when he opens up to her. Unlike her friends, she grows more liking towards Ben after he has his change in personality, as he feels more open about himself.

Chiara is a friend she deeply appreciates for her courage in reaching out for her help in times of need and trusting her with her secret. In Marauder fashion, she likes keeping an eye on her on the nights of full moon - which is good to train her cat tree climbing. They often have afternoon tea together and she teaches Indigo useful healing spells.

Andre and Indigo didn't have a great start, as she thought of him as arrogant and inconsiderate, and he thought she was careless and selfish. But when she helps him with a transfiguration mishap during their 3rd year when he was trying to be creative - and the reason he now has a two-headed cat - they start opening up to each other and begin a friendship. He's a good friend to confide in about the mundane aspects of her life and Quidditch intrigues.

Orion means to her more than she can put into words. Not only he is her team captain, but also a dear friend whom she turns to in times of emotional instability cause she knows he'll be the one to successfully help her clear her mind. They enjoy each other's company even if they don't have anything interesting to say. They sit together during every Divination class for as long as the subject goes.

She has no "rivals" as she finds that sort of labeling quite petty, but would definitely punch Emily Tyler on the stomach and perhaps Face Paint kid for all his eavesdropping.

She has an easier time bonding with her fellow Gryffindors since they spend most of their time together in classes, lunch, and hanging around in the common room.

Dormmates: She and Rowan got placed in a room for three people, as the ones for five were already full, along with a girl called Tanya. But at the beginning of their 4th year, they find out she has bailed out to another dorm room claiming they 1. Snort and speak in their sleep on a regular basis, 2. Will eventually endanger her with their cursed vault shenanigans, 3. Will get her killed - which, spoilers, actually happens, oops. So they basically have the dorm for themselves.

Academics

Favorite Classes:

Potions

Flying

DADA

Magical Theory

Least Favorite:

Transfiguration

History of Magic

Arithmancy

Favorite Professor: Kettleburn. Despite CoMC not being on her top favorite subjects, she enjoys her time in his classes and reminds her of her grandfather on her father's side who's a highlander wizard.

Least Favorite: Binns. Just retire you old man!

Quidditch Position: Chaser. Despite enjoying her time as Gryffindor's beater, she notices the position takes a toll on her physical wellbeing, having to carry a heavy bat and being injured by bludgers more times than she can keep track of. So she returns to her chaser position after a year.

Favorite Team: Montrose Magpies. She never had an interest in Quidditch before she began playing but decided to pick a team to support. Of course, it had to be a Scottish team and settles for MM because of professor McGonagall who's also a supporter.

She's not indigo's face claim, but it's hard to find good red-haired characters out there.

I guess I'll leave her background and history for another post since it interweaves very tightly with her sibling. And since I'm still exploring her story.

Well this is just an intro to my beloved MC

[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter II: The Woman In Beige

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault, objectification, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Author’s Note: If you have any questions or concerns about these warnings, please don’t hesitate to contact me! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

-Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER  | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

DECEMBER 17TH, 1891

LONDON, ENGLAND

The outside of the Globe theater was alight with bustling crowds as Oscar Wilde's London premiere of Salome had just concluded for the evening.

You were never partial towards theater. In fact, it made you wonder how a show could captivate such a diverse audience, as you watched formally clothed aristocrats and their servants cringed amongst the middle-class plebeians as they exited the theater through the matching front doors. Little did they know, the real show would take place inside of the closed carriage you waited in, peering through the red blind that covered it. Your thumb ran over the smooth pommel of your dagger. You focused on its smooth entirety as you sat back in the carriage to wait, distracting yourself from the consuming darkness.

Thankfully, Felix Keating, the wealthiest factory owner from Birmingham, valued his privacy. He opted for a carriage that had a single window on the door. This made his carriage an ideal place for you to intervene and elude any potential witnesses, considering the man had little to no time alone. In your case, it was less than optimal, but strategically, it was going to do the trick.

You stared at the wall of the carriage across from you before squeezing your eyes shut. You tried to focus on something concrete- perhaps the weight of your weapon, the tickle that your wool scarf gave your lip as it concealed the bottom half of your face. You inhaled deeply, reaching out for the drape of the window to let a fraction of light, but you froze and for a moment, you were...gone. When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in the hallway of your home, a lantern burning dimly in your hand as you heard two men talking- one voice familiar, the other strange.

'Lass? I haven't the slightest-'

'Just hand over the money and we won't have to blow no one's brains outta their skulls.'

Gunshots. Blood.

'Has she already been broken in? Lord knows what she was doing here with that old bum.'

'Doesn't matter, she's ours now, isn't that right?'

'Whore?'

Cold.

Piercing pain in your neck reminded you that you were in a carriage with years of difference from that morning. You had a job to do as you heard approaching steps and the posh voice of the factory owner himself. Before sinking to the corner furthest from the door, you took a generous inhale of the drafty air and focused on how it filled your lungs, rather than the poorly timed panic that the darkness insisted on showing you towards. You wiggled your toes in your black boots and wrinkled your nose, which served as tics that you had cautiously picked out years ago to help ground yourself when necessary. You held the dagger in your hand, the blade ready to pierce a sinner's flesh.

"That playwright will bring tears to the steeliest of lads. Quite brilliant. I must write to Wilde," Felix Keating's dulcet voice sounded as his coachman greeted him. "Reckon I could stick my nose into the theater enterprise, Her Majesty is quite interested in renovating these rubbish theaters," Keating mused, his muffled voice growing closer by the step.

"A clever investment, Mr. Keating," the coachman validated as you hugged your legs, making yourself smaller in the corner of the carriage, your head down and hood up. The door opened and you held your breath, as your heart pounded against your ribcage in protest. "May I offer you extra linens for warmth? The wind's just startin' up."

This wasn't the first time you've had to hide in order to carry out an assignment, yet the adrenaline between waiting and pouncing was always riveting.

"Ah, no Horace, I'll be 'right," Keating took his seat, more focusing on lighting his cigar. The scent caused you to tense, reminding you of the conman, someone smoked as if his life depended on it. He was a smart man that would scold you for the way you grew past his death. He'd be disappointed in you, a relentless advocate for diplomacy. Ask questions, shoot later.

"Right. If you change your mind, you gimme a holler," Horace, the coachman, shut the door as Keating settled himself with an exasperated sigh. He pushed the short drapes that were concealing the window, allowing the city lights to illuminate the small quarters and simply watched the street go by as Horace told the horse to "get walkin".

Without wasting another moment, you got to your feet, your dagger precariously reflecting light that shone through the window.

"Who is it? Who's there-" Keating started to shout, immediately sitting to attention as you used the whole of your arm's strength to shove him back against the wall that he was previously reclining against. Your nondominant hand barely fit around the circumference of his clammy neck, but nevertheless you were able to force his head back completely, his torso following in suit. You squeezed firmly, your fingers digging into the warm flesh and you could feel his hurried pulse with ease as you kept your back straight and legs strong. The angle was awkward, seeing as you were bent over in a moving carriage, but your balance was more than you gave it credit for. "Why- please!" he gasped for air, his glasses low on his nose, threatening to fall to the floor. "Stop! I have...money! Take anything you want. H-Horace!"

"Shut up!" Unintentionally, your grip tightened as you shoved his head back into the wall again, causing Keating's extinguished cigar to fall on the cushioned seat next to him. His hands flailed in panic as his chest tensed with effort as he tried to yell out to Horace again. "Maggie Calvert," you snarled as your petticoats moved with your short steps closer. Your nose could have touched his while you held his sightline. You adjusted your hold on the wooden handle of your dagger in your dominant hand before impelling the blade between his fourth and fifth ribs and close to his midline. "This is for her."

His body froze, his mouth agape. You couldn't tell if he recognized the name, but you wanted him to. A greedy businessman of his caliber deserved to think about someone other than himself during his last few moments alive. You pushed your dagger until both quillions were making contact with his white shirt. You have the dagger a small jerk for maximum damage before pulling it out, allowing blood to immediately gush out of his wound. Finally, your heart rate was beginning to slow with the rush of merely completing the task and you let go of his neck, your fingers aching from being tense. Keating was choking as he tried to yell or scream, or perhaps curse you, but the blood that was rushing into his collapsing lung was going to keep him from doing so.

"Maggie Calvert," you repeated solemnly, using Keating's long coat to clean off your dagger and tuck it into your pocket bag, one of the two large pouches that were nestled between your skirts. The body was limp and the strangled hacking had finally come to a stop. After all, the blood had stained your stomacher as it had come up through his mouth during his final moments of struggle. However, the compensation you were about to receive for this task would more than cover it. Unfortunately, it left Horace with more than a mess to clean up. Blood was a stubborn substance.

. . .

DECEMBER 20TH 1891

BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND

Before you could knock, the door of the brick building flew open, causing you to jump in surprise.

"Miss Y/l/n," Eric Calvert's muddy green eyes were glassy with unshed tears as you pushed the hood of your cloak off of your neck out of respect for the modest home. The housing in Birmingham, an industrial town, was much different than London's. It was more compact, the air was more polluted with factory smoke. The Calverts seemed to be better off than most common families, but that meant nothing in this case. Factory conditions were poor, even after the reform laws from the 1830s. You were blessed to be introduced to more lucrative work upon your arrival- drawing money straight out of pockets with the most genuine man to have strolled down the cemented walkways of the city. "Please, come right in," he gestured with his gloved hand, moving out of your way as he removed his hat and bowed.

"Mr. Calvert," you offered a tight-lipped smile at the bowing man. In the hand that pressed against his chest, Eric pressed his grey hat into it, like a proper gentleman. The gesture had only fed into your discontentment, while Eric seemed no better off. You weren't blind to the pallid shade of his face, the withheld energy in his stance. "You mustn't bow to me," you assert, waiting for the man to right himself as he frowned.

"Oh, please... Mr. Calvert's my father." Eric said with a miffed shake of his head, raking his fingers through his sloppy waves of hair. The two of you walked down the short hall that led into a big foyer. A fireplace was on the far side with several articles of outerwear hanging on the mantle to help warm them from snow, you presume. The scent of the burning wood brings you a foreign nostalgia that ideally, you would've failed to notice. The past deserved to stay where it belonged- in the past. The only hearth you were to be a part of was your own.

"Evelyn, dear! Draw some tea, she's come back!" Eric called his wife, who seemed busy in the kitchen that was located in an attached room. "Hurry!" You presumed that he felt apprehensive about being left alone with you, which was fair.

"Just a minute!" Evelyn called from the attaching room, the door left ajar. You were right to assume that it was a kitchen of some form, seeing as the general layout of this building resembled that of your own home, the fuss of her brown petticoats catching your eye. You wished she'd move with more urgency. You had yet to eat properly, seeing as you were more occupied with moving efficiently over the past day or two. At least the vicinity was warm, allowing you to pull off your thick gloves and tuck them into either pocket bag as Eric led you to a small area near the fireplace. There were two big loveseats across from each other and with a rug in between. The cushions were patched together with random sheets of fabric.

There was a single photograph in a hanging frame over the fireplace's mantle, the glass dirty. It was Eric and Evelyn, jubilant in light, fancy clothing as they cradled their baby girl between them. You understood how the couple found themselves in such desperation to acquaint themselves with someone like you when they had once smiled without any semblance of malignity. She was stolen from them, and it had seemed that the world was prepared to let the men at fault see their own children grow up. You were the one to right that wrong- by driving your knife between the ribs of Felix Keating and watching him choke as blood filled his lungs. His eyes tearing as he begged for mercy when Maggie Calvert, who was no more than nine, died in his workhouse because of his cheaply built machinery. She wasn't given a chance, so who was Keating to think he deserved one?

"She'll be uh...right out," Eric smiled at you again, repeating the words of his wife, those of which you had no problem hearing. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the uncomfortable way he held himself, as opposed to the haughty attitude he sported during your first meeting. He was dubious that a mere lady like yourself (months shy of twenty) could hurt a fly, much less hold a body count to her name. Yet the morning prior, the bustling headlines of The Daily Telegraph reached Birmingham, selling quickly as they covered the murder of Felix Keating, owner of many iron manufacturing factories who narrowly escaped an immense prison sentence for a major accident in his Birmingham factory a week before.

"Oh my, Eric," Evelyn entered the main room, precariously balancing a steaming teapot and a modest spread of small bites on a tarnished, silver tray. "Where have your manners gone?" she tutted, setting it down on the oakwood table before turning her attention to you. Her blonde hair was tied in a disheveled bun, droopy and with tendrils falling out of it like spider legs that swayed as she moved.

"My manners?" Eric began to protest, only to be interrupted by his wife again. You found their dynamic as a couple quite refreshing. After all, you would not have been there, had Evelyn worked to contact you without her husband's knowledge.

"Miss Y/l/n, allow me to take your cloak," Evelyn gestured to the many hooks that were nailed into the fireplace mantle where there were drying articles of clothing hanging, narrowly dodging the short flames.

It was difficult to compel yourself to smile, but the corners of your lips turned upwards anyhow. There was a line where social niceties ended and another where gullible kindness started. This was the latter as they knowingly welcomed you, a murderer into their home because you made an ally out of yourself. "Don't trouble yourself any more than you have, Mrs. Calvert. My time here is brief," you found satisfaction when she shook her head and began to pour you a cup of the steaming tea, despite your words. Thankfully, she made no attempt to sit with you.

"Brief?" Evelyn repeated, gently passing the delicate teacup to you. The warmth spread over your palms on contact as you brought the rim to your lips. Your hold was improper, though necessary, seeing as the finest details are what make the best disguises. Only the wealthy held their teacups with so much consideration. Besides, the warmth was much more satisfying when it went beyond the tips of your fingers. "I reckon a woman such as yourself is a tad busy," she concurred, causing you to tense in surprise. You were rarely referred to as a woman.

"Quite," you mused after her, taking a contemplative sip of your tea. "I ought to be at the station in less than an hour," you lied, gently tapping the tips of your short nails on the warm cup. All that was necessary was payment and crucial parting words. The assorted bites on the tray were beginning to seem unappealing, the longer you stood there. "But we must discuss a few things-" you start, only to be interrupted by Evelyn, which was common.

"Your fee. We have the first installment," she gestured to Eric with her chin, her smile long gone as he offered a small pouch made of different, threadbare, fabrics. While you had already discounted your normal charge for the couple's situation, they could hardly afford a fraction of the sum.

"We've tried to save as much as possible. Take it. It's the least we can do at the time," Eric spoke, linking his arm with his wife's. Reluctantly, you hold your cup in one hand and deftly slide the pouch into the pocket bag between your petticoats. They would have felt worse if you refused to take their money. After all, you avenged the silenced death of their girl.

"It's plenty, thank you," after finishing the rest of your tea, you proceed with your original thought before they could try to pass their relief for protest. You had to recite the practiced discourse that you gave to every one of your patrons before making your leave. "Now, the two of you will be suspects to the Yard, be cautious," you put emphasis on your words by meeting each of their gazes. "You must avoid London and keep your heads down. Do you understand?"

"And... what happens to you?" Eric asked, sipping out of his own teacup. His shoulders were still unnaturally squared and attentive as he actively avoided your sightline. "Where are you off to?" his focus quickly turned to Evelyn, who was untangling her arm from his and bringing the tray back into the kitchen.

"The distance from Birmingham to London is great, she'll starve before she returns!" Evelyn stopped to yell from over her shoulder before leaving the door open behind her. In the kitchen, she promptly began to wrap the biscuits in napkins.

"Nevermind me," you coaxed Eric back to the conversation by answering his question. You smiled once again as you put your cup on the table and begin to put your gloves back on their respective hands. "You need to make certain that you both have an alibi for the night of December 17th, I cannot stress this enough, Mr. Calvert," you looked up from your gloves, pulling them so they covered your forearms again.

"I assure you, Miss Y/l/n. We were both working in that refinery- until dawn," you had no doubt about the truth to that statement, though any Peeler would press further. That part was to the Calverts to handle, seeing as you had played out your role. Pursing your lips, you took a generous inhale to soothe the ominous pit of anxiety that had settled in your stomach.

"Sure," you pulled your hood back over your head as Evelyn returned with a minute basket. It was covered and you wished you still had your appetite from when you had entered their home.

"Here you are," Evelyn allowed you to take the handle in your non-dominant hand. In a city, it was always smartest to have your dominant hand free, which was yet another insignificant habit that you had inherited from the old conman. What was the date? December 20th, which meant there were still a few weeks before it was the anniversary of his death. Otherwise, the most difficult twenty-four hours to bear out of a calendar year.

Evelyn was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes. After all, for most women, motherhood was a privilege and it had been torn away from her. She was attempting to care for you as she would have for Maggie...had she lived to nineteen. Tears were welling in her eyes as she watched your hand extend to briefly touch her shoulder. "Take care," you said, finally meeting Eric's green hues that were tearing up as well. "I can show myself out," you shook your head dismissively when he moved to go to the front door with you. Evelyn needed to be coddled more than you did.

. . .

JANUARY 5TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

Evenings at home always unsettled you, being the start of an all-too boring night, which made you feel restless- itchy for action. Rather, your quiet home always put you on the height of your guard, even as you were sitting behind the short shed, submerging your assorted gowns and petticoats into the warm, soapy water that bubbled in your wooden tub. It was a tedious, once a week process that perhaps irked you more than cooking. With a huff, you directed your stress into the iron grip that you kept your washboard upright with, rubbing fabric over its ridges.

The water made your fingers prune and the stool under you caused your bottom to grow sore, the longer you had to sit there, toiling away until each article was hanging on your makeshift clothesline- fastened with pins. When you were a girl, you had about twice the amount to wash and yet, you enjoyed the task because there were two more hands to make light, fun work of it. The conman liked to sing to pass the time- the lyrics had taken you ages to comprehend, seeing as your English had challenged for years. He was anything but a schoolteacher.

You cringed as your hand slid down the washboard too quickly, causing the hot water to splash back up at your face. The weather was foul, the winter in London was always tempestuous and the warm water on your face had only reminded you of how little warmth your wool scarf provided. It was wrought with holes by now, but you couldn't bring yourself to give it away, you've had it from the day you arrived...nine years ago. Dismissing the thought, you allowed the cooling water to run down your forehead, passing the slope of your nose, until it finally fell and assimilated with the top of your stomacher.

You squeezed the wet petticoat, turning it in order to ring the water out. Although you could have been more thorough, the boredom that came with domestic chores was causing you to rush and find something more occupying to start. The tranquility of the night was eerie, an uneasy contrast to the violent life you led.

The sound of approaching voices caused you to pause, your hands pulling the washboard out of the water to hold, ready to swing. The petticoat that you had been wringing out fell back into the wooden tub with a quiet splash. The soap suds ran down your forearms, dampening the brown sleeves of your gown.

"No entiendo por qué la señora quiere una chica. Podríamos bombardear el sitio de Phantomhive más rápido que esta pérdida de tiempo," the voice of a woman spoke quickly, in a language that you couldn't identify. A denomination of Latin? Knitting your eyebrows, you conceded, deciding to focus on what you could understand. Bombard, Phantomhive. Bomb?

Vaguely, you recognized the name 'Phantomhive' from the newspaper. The Earl Phantomhive ran the Funtom Company, children's' toys and confectionery.

"Quiere su nombre lo más lejos posible de esto. La chica es una asesina exitosa, así que sería más discreta que los explosivos," a masculine voice responded, a stiff twig cracking beneath one of their shoes. You scowled as you shifted your weight from your left side to your right. The washboard was a viable weapon, but it was simply a matter of timing. Their silhouettes were getting closer, each short and clad in neutral earth tones.

"A menos que te interese en enredarte con ese mocoso," the man chuckled. He wasn't secretive or trying to be discreet. By the way he trudged, he was probably leaving deep tracks in the slushy excuse for snow.

"No tengo un deseo de muerte, a diferencia de ti. Callado!!" The woman said, her voice suddenly at a harsh whisper.

"Ah. There," the man spoke in English, finally a language that you could comprehend. "Y/n Y/l/n?" He asked, pulling down his scarf to expose the rest of his face. In comparison to yours, his accent was much thicker. Your grip on the washboard didn't waver.

"Who are you?" You demanded, stepping forward to stand your ground as they approached you. The pair wasn't visibly armed, their figures weren't particularly threatening to you. The man merely smiled at you while the woman to his side scowled.

"Diego- and uh, Carmen. Peace! We come in...uh, peace," Diego stammered, stopping at a respectful distance from you while showing you his empty hands as they beckoned with his rapid words. He seemed amused with your choice in weapon and assertive stance. "Carmen," he elbowed the sour-faced woman, causing her to grunt and hold her gloved hands up as he was.

"What brings you here?" They must have knocked at your door and came around when there was no response and a dim light behind the shack. Their winter gear suggested that they had some tier of wealth or deft hands in thievery. If it was business, this wouldn't be the first time you were asked to aid in stealing. However, as tempting as the offers were, you turned each one down. 

"Business." Carmen answered this time, her hand slowly reaching into her jacket pocket. "No fret. Is just a letter," her English was just as mediocre as yours had been, years ago. Your eyes followed her hand as she pulled out an envelope with a dark red seal. "Business for our...líder?" She explained and looked at the man, leaving a long pause before her last word. It was essentially 'leader', but the stress was on an 'i' sound instead.

"Yes. Leader," Diego cleared his throat in a weak attempt to mask a laugh as you dropped your washboard back into the washbasin with a short splash. You ignored him as you took the letter from the woman, your wet hand causing the ink on the front to smear. It read your name, Y/n Y/l/n, in a pompous script, the illegible type that royalty and aristocrats penned. "All you needa know is there."

The Undertaker was supposed to be the partition between yourself and clients. Who did he think he was to give these servants your address? You'd have to give him a stern reminder for the next time you cross paths. With a frown, you pushed the envelope into your pocket bag, allowing it to jut out due to its dimensions.

"Is this all?" You asked as you waited for them to either leave or proceed with more broken commentary. Your lips were pressed together in a tight purse, a fresh lump of apprehension growing in your stomach. However, you couldn't let it show as the man sheepishly removed his hat with a shallow bow. It was more unctuous than anything as it only caused your scowl to deepen.

"Yes, Miss. We can... be going now," Diego righted himself and put his hat back over his dark curly hair. You didn't offer either of than a proper dismissal for the favor of going back to your washing and ruminating over the letter. It merely had a location, date, and time with no further information. No explanation of identification. You could appreciate the impudent nature of it, as this 'leader' assumed you had no plans for January 10th or presumed that you would handle any conflicts yourself when they were approaching you for your services. It was crude of them to assume that you still took orders.

. . .

JANUARY 10TH, 1892

READING, ENGLAND

Perhaps it was curiosity or a lapse of judgment that led you to board a train and throw caution to the wind. Whatever it was, your default prudence seemed to abandon you at each instance you dared open the letter that you were given- if you could call it that. The paper inside merely had your name, a distinct address, time, and date all in a presumptuous formality that made you want to tear it to shreds. But you refrained and instead, rolled your shoulders back and down as you knocked on the painted door of the lofty residential home that coincided with the address in the letter. The walls were constructed with sturdy brick and there was smoke wafting out of the chimney. As you predicted, the entirety of the property before you suggested wealth, just as the note and the delivery had.

You knocked on the door, the letter in your hand as you waited several long, cold moments before a woman greeted you. Most of her features matched Carmen's, deep olive skin and brown hair that was tied back. "You are late," she spoke, disdain clear in her voice as she ushered you through the open door and into a foyer. You were only late by a few minutes, according to the clock on a passing wall. "My mistress is impatient," the woman added as an afterthought as if that fact was supposed to faze you into an apology. Her accent was quite notable, pronounced, and sharp like the other servants.

As she led you to a winding staircase as your gaze trained on each room that you passed. They were each decorated in a modest fashion and the colors were left to a simple tan palette. It was more simple than you would have expected from the manor's proud exterior. The woman cleared her throat, "Doña, she has arrived," she knocked twice on the closed door before opening it, revealing another woman. She stood behind a mahogany desk, watching you with relaxed shoulders. The bay window behind her illuminated the silk of her beige dress, contrasting her tan skin as it hugged her slender figure. Beige was uncommon at the time, given the dullness of it, although this woman wore it like a badge, using the simple color to allow other parts of her appearance to stand out.

"Leave us, Andrea," the woman's gaze had yet to leave yours, causing you to look away in mild discomfort. Once the door was closed again, she extended her hand to you, speaking again as you cautiously shook it. Her grip was confident and warm against your bare palm. "It is my pleasure, Princess Helena. I feared you would disregard dear Carmen and Diego." You retracted your hand, the name causing you to meet her eyes again.

"Y/n," You corrected, your mouth running dry as you calculated each of your words, down to the syllable. This foreign woman was able to unravel each of your lies within the latest nine years and frankly, it took every bit of your skill to remain composed. The conman would assess the person standing in front of him and decide if they were entitled to the truth that they were trying to extract. He would run through each advantage and disadvantage and return to the same conclusion- murder was always an option. After all, it was the only sure way of containing sensitive information. "Y/n Y/l/n," you repeated, causing the woman to laugh, her rounded cheeks eclipsing her eyes.

"We may both employ our pseudonyms, then. Address me as Doña," she sat in the red, cushioned chair behind her. Doña raised her eyebrows at you expectantly as she motioned towards the decidedly less opulent wooden chair across from her. You complied, frowning at her as she leaned towards you. Her smile only seemed to expand. "I have a task for you, Y/n. Only you can complete it for me."

"I know there are other services in London you might have requested," you contradicted, sitting back in the uncomfortable chair as you showed no qualms in testing her.

"No," Doña said with a simple shrug of her slender shoulders, "I need you to eliminate the Earl Phantomhive- the Queen's Guard Dog who puts an end to anyone she names. The graveyard to his name exceeds even yours. Although... it seems to be watered with the blood of the innocent, instead," her smile finally melted, causing her red lips to lay in a natural frown. In the streets of London, her lip color was enough to impose any of the filthiest assumptions about her.

"How does this concern me, specifically?" You asked. As your interest piqued, your eyebrows furrowed and you found yourself leaning towards the edge of the desk, rather than sitting slack against the wooden chair. The notion of the proprietor of a children's company having blood on his noble hands was more endearing than anything, especially to someone such as yourself, living substantial evidence that no one was who they appeared to be.

Your eyes followed Doña's hand as she opened a drawer in the desk, pulling out a pristine, folded newspaper. The masthead read 'DIE SUEDLlCHE POST' (THE SOUTHERN POST), a German newspaper with the headline of 'PRINZESSIN MARIE-LOUISE GIBT IHRE VERLOBUNG MIT PRINZ ARIBERT VON ANHALT BEKANNT' (PRINCESS MARIE-LOUISE ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT TO PRINCE ARIBERT OF ANHALT). There was a picture within the columns of words of your twin sister as she sported a gaudy dress and faux-smile as she beckoned the public into her personal life. Seeing Marie's matured face resemble yours so flawlessly was disarming and you only remembered to release a breath you had been holding when Doña spoke again. "The Queen trusts the Earl implicitly- enough to put the safety of her granddaughter in his...capable hands. At any mere threat, the Princess will come overseas to stay under his protection," she paused, smiling again as she unfurled the groundwork of a meticulous plan. "The monarchy is quite predictable, no?"

You had to give her credit for her unwavering confidence. The idea that she implied was beyond mad and yet, she sold it well. "We intercept her transportation before she reaches the port," Doña raised her chin as she explained, her expression smug to challenge you. Someone had trained her to manipulate others, just as the conman had done for you. She was reflecting your body language, while keeping her own polished mannerisms as a subtle attempt to establish trust, but express her own certitude.

"And you intend for me to take her place," you finished mapping out her plan for her, almost speaking in disbelief. Reclaiming your past? Your sister represented the whole of what you had resented in Germany; the wealth, the social faux pas, down to each ruffle of every gown. "Kill the Earl within his own estate," you bit the inside of your bottom lip, keeping yourself in the present.

The door opened behind you, the startling sound of a crying baby caused you to jump and turn your head to the source. A frazzled Andrea, the servant who greeted you, held a crying infant in her arms as it squirmed. "Doña, su hija te necesita ahora," she said, offending you as again as the two individuals conversed in a foreign tongue, ignoring your confusion.

At the sight of the distressed child, Doña's expression curled such as milk did. Her nose wrinkled, her eyes staring at it in disdain. Her glowered response came quickly as she gestured with her hands, "debes llevártela. Andrea, deberías saber mejor que interponerme cuando estoy ocupado con los negocios."

Immediately, and to your relief, Andrea left the office with a mumbled curse that you couldn't decipher. The baby was still crying. "You never learned Spanish?" Doña mused, her hands slowly returning to the wooden surface that separated herself and you. At least you had been correct in assuming it was from a Latin dialect. "That was my daughter," she explained with a careless shrug, causing you to frown. Your mother always spoke of you with the same amount of indifference, if not more than what this woman expressed, calling her daughter a 'that'. Bearing witness to that treatment left you vulnerable to frustration, an emotion that distracted you from the clear thinking you were trained to maintain.

"Earl Phantomhive," you said, bringing her back on topic before she could fiddle with your strained heartstrings any more. "It's a personal vendetta, is it not?"

"Ah. Correct," her face grew serious again as she brought her heavy stare back to yours. For a moment, you looked down at the newspaper- at your beaming sister and her Prince. "The Earl killed my husband after my whole family," Doña said as she shifted in her seat. Her eyes pried into your soul as if she was weighing each of your sins and virtue against each other in that moment. "I cannot rest until he feels the same anguish. What do you say?" She asked, raising her thin eyebrows, leaning forward in her seat.

For the first time that afternoon, you understood the woman sitting before you. You understood the lingering pain behind every smile, the loneliness behind her confident handshake. For that, you didn't need her to prove that the Earl was deserving of just intervention when normally, you required a means that ensured you that you weren't being sent to murder an innocent. The Calverts allowed you to read the court records of Keating's failed prosecution. But in this case, you recognized the raw emotion in her face. You saw it weekly in your employers and it used to stare back at you in the mirror...before you grew.

"Fine," your shoulders relaxed as you shifted in on the wooden chair, tempted to retreat, the more she invaded your space.

"We will begin our preparations immediately, then. We may discuss the finer details over tea."

. . .

JANUARY 17TH, 1892

READING, ENGLAND

"Diego and Carmen have returned," Doña entered your room without the formality of knocking, even though Andrea was in the middle of preparing you for your arrival to the Phantomhive Manor while you were attempting to keep yourself present. You gave your toes a discrete wiggle while they were crushed in tall heels. At least the slight pain was grounding. "Your personal effects will be included with ours," she added as a suggestion for you to respond. Over the week you had spent in her presence, you learned that talking to her was an exhaustive endeavor when most of the time, all you needed to do was listen. Meanwhile, Andrea was finishing your complicated hairstyle behind you. She tied strands of your hair into braids that led into a single low ponytail behind your head. Frankly, the steps she took had you standing there for ages, but you didn't protest, as opposed to the riot you always threw in Germany.

"At last," you stared at your reflection in the mirror before you, willfully ignoring the addition of her behind you. It was almost difficult to recognize yourself, considering you were staring at the visage of your sister, Marie as you dawned a sky blue gown that was embroidered with white designs around the bodice and top petticoat. The neckline had simple ruffles that covered the top of your stomacher, alternating with lace. Your skin was smooth to touch, almost delicate with the amount of cold cream that Andrea had insisted on smothering over every inch of you each morning and night. Even the apples of your cheeks were lightened with a gentle hand of pink rouge. "Putting that off to the last day was careless."

"At least our princess needs not to remember her privilege," Doña smarted, her red lips pursing in a sardonic grin. "Only her grace."

"And what of the princess?" You asked, turning away from yourself to give the packed trunks in your room a quick once over. They were each packed with fine clothing and luxury products that Doña had procured over the week, whilst important belongings of your own had just arrived, according to the woman herself. The conman's watch stayed with you for each task, whether you wore it, forced it into your pocket bag, or wrapped around a garter.

"Her steamship was supposed to dock about an hour ago. It should be in the process of sinking in the North Sea." The words had no effect on you, other than perhaps, relief. While Marie was your sister, you grew up in her looming shadow, her constant jibes, and haughty smiles. Her death secured your role in perhaps, one of the most complicated schemes you have ever dared take part in and did well to rid the world of another self-absorbed leech. Doña's hand gave your shoulder a patronizing pat as she smiled, "peace, Y/n. Your face is too young for frown lines. Remember, princesses haven't a care."

"You would know?" you asked, pressing your lips together and gathering your breath in a shallow inhale. The statement affected you more than it should have, but you blamed the superior tone that Doña attempted to pull over you. Although there were many years separating the two of you, it gave her no right to treat you as a child. You believed that Evelyn Calvert said it best- you were a woman, a lady that deserved every brutal sentiment that the world had to offer. "I believe the monarchy in Spain ended years ago."

"Someone did their reading."

"Enough," you glared, "I believe it would be best to allow Andrea to finish here. Before I stain this gown with your-" Andrea gave your hair a slight tug to tighten the hold before she gave you a quick once over. She seemed proud of her work- turning a runaway back into a princess. Quickly she patted a bit of power over the exposed junction between your neck and shoulders, adding some to your throat. Rather than making you appear paler, it was mostly translucent and served as a more natural aromatic while hiding blemishes. Andrea then left and quickly returned with a white coat that ran down to your mid-thigh. Deftly, she buttoned down the middle of it, closing both sides with little effort, seeing as it was made to be snug over all of your tight layers.

"-No, I believe that is quite enough, Y/n. Don't forget- we are allies, love." Doña reminded you with a smile. "In fact, I retrieved something else of yours to prove it," her hand disappeared into the deliberate fold of her pocket bag, revealing a small box. It was a black velvet that was soft in your hand. "Go on, she prompted, nodding at the box with her chin, "open." Slowly, you opened the box as it revealed a breathtaking emerald ring. The band's soft rose gold shone in the sunlight that came through the windows as small diamonds lined its circumference and outlined the expensive gem itself.

It couldn't be-

Your breath hitched as you took the ring out, putting the box on the vanity to your side as you looked at the interior of the band, your eyes wide as the engraving read 'Prinzessin Helena Victoria, 5/3' (Princess). It was your family ring, the exact one that you had given to a young boy because he was too poor to buy himself a proper jacket. All he wanted were a few coins for you to buy his newspaper, but you had no currency at the time. Instead, you gave him the ring and changed his life, rather than allowing the damned thing to burden you any more than it already had.

"That ring has seen...nearly all of Europe before returning to you," Doña said as she watched you slide the ring back over your satin glove. It fit your ring finger perfectly. Marie was made a completely identical ring, emerald, rose gold, and diamonds. You shared the same birthdate with her, being twins. "It would have been wiser to procure hers, but we must make do. You may never take it off." She was right. Though the ring was in fact, a smart decision to make your appearance more legitimate, the engraving could just as easily be the end of you.

"I understand." You confirmed, with a generous inhale. You felt your chest expand against the confining corset you wore.

"Andrea, ¿está lista ahora?" (Andrea, is she ready now?) Doña asked the servant, who was cradling her daughter, a chubby infant in her skinny arms, seeing as she finished tending to you. Andrea was not given enough credit, seeing as she took care of you, the baby, and everyone else within the household. She seemed to be around the age of Doña herself, perhaps younger, though missing a ring on her own finger. You owed her more respect than Doña, seeing as she took the time to teach you bits of conversational Spanish. Sitting in that house for a week while most individuals spoke in their native tongue was frustrating to you, and she cared enough to alleviate some of that pressure.

"Yes. You all should be going. Marie would have been near to our destination." Andrea said, before leaving your room to presumably, get Diego and Carmen to load the carriage with the aforementioned trunks. She left you and Doña alone, in temporary silence.

"Diego and Carmen are escorting you," she spoke, ushering you to leave the room behind her and start to the carriage that waited in front of the brick manor. "They are dock workers to you since the Queen called for finesse; minimum security." Marie's steamship was private- it made sense that she'd only have a few individuals as personnel. Although, they were likely dead at the bottom of the sea with the intended princess. "I will be in contact," her eyes, once again, stared into you, but you refused to falter. At a time like this, it was important to appear confident, even when there was residual panic racing through you.

"I won't be long," you replied, quite sardonically. The Earl Phantomhive was just a boy, about two years younger than you. He had a butler and four servants and an opulent estate that gave you plenty of opportunities, space, and minimal witnesses. You have surmised much harder conditions in the past, considering you've posed as a maid and drowned a woman in her own bathtub since she kidnapped and sold little girls to the highest bidder. That case had reached a particular soft spot within you, although it made you sensitive to the scent of rose water.

For a moment, you were back in that bathroom. The steam of the heated water hit your face in droplets as the curvaceous woman thrashed, her knees peeking out of the water, kicking. She was screaming, but it was garbled by the water as she choked on it. You had to use both of your soapy hands to press her forehead against the porcelain tub and apply moderate pressure around her trachea before she went limp...

"I'm sure," Doña rolled her eyes as she opened the carriage door for you. Diego and Carmen came out the front door with the small trunks in their arms. Carmen's tan features were still warped in her perpetual scowl, but Diego beamed at you, his eyelashes fluttering. You squeezed your eyes closed before opening them again, repeating the process multiple times while wrinkling your nose. It was, naturally, still cold and unlike the staff, you were only given a coat and gloves to stay warm. How Doña stood her ground without sleeves in this weather was lost to you.

"Andrea, fixed you up real good, Your Highness," Diego said, leaving Carmen to finish packing the carriage as he approached you. He bowed at his waist, over-exaggerating the movement. You had come to the conclusion that he was an excitable puppy dog, personified in a man. It was hard to imagine a man like that had the nerve to use the handgun in his holster. You frowned, the sight of firearms never failing to unsettle you, despite your line of work.

Trap the gun.

You urged yourself to focus on the people in front of you and the task that was rapidly coming into fruition. "You ought to ask her for a hand," you shrugged dismissively, the jab subtle as you shrugged and showed yourself through the carriage door. You sat down on the cushioned seat, closing the door and staring out the window of the carriage. Though you could have afforded a simple goodbye to the staff, your growing demand to be alone was overwhelming. Even the carriage, though it was white and an unassuming beige upholstery lined the seats, you had to force yourself to stay present.

Felix Keating.

"Y/n, we're pulling out now!" Carmen's grumpy voice announced as she knocked twice on the closed door to get your attention. She and Diego were to be driving the carriage- as Doña said, they were acting as port attendants to substitute Marie's dead servants. Your fingers wrapped around the pommel of your dagger, giving it a long squeeze.

"Fine!" You responded, watching the street from your window as it slowly passed by, paired with the trotting hooves of the horse that dragged you to your possible demise.

. . .

JANUARY 17TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

The Phantomhive manor was on the outskirts of London, shielded within the countryside by a thin forest line. As it rolled into your sightline through the small window of the carriage, you shamelessly allowed yourself to gape at the sheer size of it- the height of the walls, the militant stone masonry, and expansive stone garden that surrounded the cobblestone path. The cobblestone caused the carriage to bump clumsily and you could hear the sound of the packed trunks shifting around, even though they sat in the front with Carmen and Diego. To you, having so much space for one person was simply a waste- you made do in a shoebox that was going to be comparable to a linen closet on this property.

There was no describing the intimidating grace of the noble manor that stood proudly before you- although it was the furthest from your first complicated infiltration and as much as you tried to repress it, grew up in a castle. However, even Glücksburg was feeble in comparison to the fortress that your carriage slowed to a stop in front of. Diego wasted no time in opening the door, allowing more of the afternoon light in. You shuddered as the cold, once again, attacked your face and outer extremities, despite the petticoats that Andrea had precariously piled under your gown.

"We have made it, Your Highness," the joke was obvious in Diego's face, the apples of his cheeks too perky with his enthusiastic smile. He needed some of Carmen's restraint while the latter required at least a semblance of his warmth.

Your Highness. The form address was foreign to you. It was nothing but a burden that weighed just as much as the genuine metal around your ring finger and the tight corset that restricted your torso. But this was your role- at least for the next week or so. Your smile was small enough to not seem horribly forced, though anything but enthused. Restraint was something Governess Lydia always stressed, making it one of the single things she had in common with the conman, who never let you forget about the strength of words. This task required you to heed lessons from the both of them, which was unfortunate, considering the conman represented the best two years of your life, while Governess Lydia was the embodiment of your poisonous girlhood.

"Your prudence is more than appreciated," you accepted his hand as he helped you down the two, rather short stairs of the carriage. This was it- now you were Princess Marie of Schleswig-Holstein. Her identity belonged to you- rather than a withering corpse in the sea- however Doña had managed to get her there. For your own sake, you found it easier not to ask. You didn't need the blood of your sister on your conscience while you embodied her likeliness. Or at least...what you could recall from your spoiled bias and hourly etiquette classes in the castle. "Thank you, Diego," you let go of his hand once you stood on your own feet. You didn't need to look at him to know that he was shaking his head, discouraged that you were being kind to him simply because you had to. Prior to the carriage ride, you'd told him to see Andrea and give her a chance to improve his scraggly appearance.

"Of course," he responded with a hasty bow. Diego shut the door with a slam, clumsier than he needed to be. You pretended that all of your doubts were conveniently left sitting on a cushioned seat- as dispensable as a glove. Confidence in your own vast skill sets was going to get you through this and the blade of your dagger between the Earl's ribs. "To the door, Your Highness. You'll catch cold." Diego led you to the door, leaving Carmen to unload your baggage. The door opened immediately after he knocked, revealing a simpering man.

"Wir heißen sie herzlich willkommen, Eure Hoheit. Ich hoffe, dass Ihre reise bis zu diesem punkt angenehm war.," (Our deepest welcome, Your Highness. I do hope your journey was pleasant to this point,) he spoke, his German succinct as if he was a native speaker himself. Following his practiced welcome, he bowed, the silver accessory that was pinned on his lapel moved as he did. A gloved hand pressed politely over his heart as he righted himself at your nod. In this case, you would have preferred him to speak to you in English, seeing as the whole of the experience was already quite out of body for you. "Bitte, treten sie ein." (Please, come in).

You complied, reluctantly crossing the tall threshold. Diego was behind you and silent as you took a moment to look over the barren foyer around you. "Sie haben ein schönes anwesen. Danke, dass sie mein Refugium beherbergen - Ihre Majestät kann mehr als exzessiv sein," (You keep a lovely manor. Thank you for housing my retreat- Her Majesty can be more than excessive,) you replied, noting the butler's endearing features. His face was pale as if the moon decided to bless him with natural illumination and in contrast, his hair fell in black tresses that framed his face. His smile was too perky for his darker disposition.

"Es ist unser privileg, mit ihrer sicherheit betraut zu werden." (It is our privilege to be entrusted with your safety.) The unctuous pleasantries were in excess. A little went a long way, especially for you, who tended to be brief towards every accessory- every pawn. As a girl, that efficiency labeled you as ill-mannered, as Lydia, the uptight Governess, cautioned you.

"Gibt es einen namen für sie?" (Is there a name to call you by?) It was more appropriate for his master- the rudely absent Earl, to introduce him properly, but you were growing weary of having no name to associate with the man. You tilted your head, thinly smiling at the butler who immediately stood to attention to respond. He had more effortless poise than you did, but at its essence, it couldn't be hard. Between your intense life in the monarchy was nearly a decade of living amongst the middle class and working for anyone with the fortune to pay you.

He bowed again, the palm of his right hand returning to his heart. "Natürlich. Mein Name ist Sebastian, mein meister-" (Of course. My name is Sebastian, my master-) he was interrupted by the door opening again, proceeding with three individuals and Carmen entering the foyer, bringing the trunks that were in the carriage. There were only six boxes, but the shorter boy out of the group was holding three heavy boxes instead of one.

"Sebastian! Where should we be putting these?" A woman asked rather loudly, as opposed to the smooth dulcet of Sebastian's German. Her voice had a clear, animated quirk of an English accent and it took you a moment to return your brain to the language, seeing as focusing on one at a time rather than two at once was simpler. Then you entered her sightline, causing her to shriek in surprise as she gasped. "Princess Marie- Your Highness!" she dropped the box, sinking into a clumsy excuse for a curtsy. At your side, you could hear Diego attempting to stifle his laughter. As for yourself, you weren't one for sudden noises and had to feign understanding. By the end of the day, your cheeks were going to ache from constantly having to smile.

"Your Highness, these are the other servants of the house," Sebastian finally spoke in English as he gestured with an arm to the two men and the woman. As the three other servants put the trunks down. The woman's face was red under her disproportionate glasses as she looked from the older man to the younger one at her sides, searching for validation for her abrupt enthusiasm. "Our gardener, Finnian-"

"-Finny!" He interrupted with a bright smile, before meeting Sebastian's eyes and shrinking. Finny cleared his throat, his gloved hand rubbing under the hat that covered the nape of his neck. "Please, um...call me Finny, Your Highness." In front of him were the three trunks that he had been carrying- stacked vertically. One alone was heavy for even yourself, but he seemed unaffected.

"Right...Mey-Rin, the maid," Sebastian continued. Mey-Rin's face was still red as she looked at Sebastian and then you, uncomfortable with the attention of the room on her. "Our cook, Baldroy."

Baldory seemed to be the most composed of the three. Notably, there were strands of grey in his blond hair as he regarded you with an easy simper, his shoulders relaxed. "Good to meet ya," he said with a simple nod of his head. His voice reminded you of the conman's- perpetually at ease.

"And ...Tanaka- the executive director of the Funtom Company," Sebastian said, guiding your attention to a small man that watched you from behind Baldroy's legs. He wore a monocle and seemed to hold a cup of tea as he bowed. The executive director of the Funtom Company was a frail man?

"Oh but, that's how he is- he rarely goes into his full size," Finny chimed in, once again, cutting himself off at Sebastian's pointed gaze. He only gave you more questions than he had answered. How was such a large estate taken care of by such a small cast of individuals?

"Might I ask about the Earl himself?" You didn't feel the need to properly introduce Carmen and Diego, seeing as they were only supposed to be distant dockworkers to you. Marie wouldn't have thought twice about them, seeing as she was her own sun, moon, and savior. Instead, she would be miffed that a mere Earl had the self-importance to show tardiness in meeting her.

"Our master should be with us in a moment. Please allow me to show you to his study," Sebastian said, easily making a transition from the exhaustive introductions to sitting in. "In the meantime; you three, take Her Highness's belongings to her quarters." This time, Baldroy picked up Carmen's neglected box as she stood at Diego's side. The three of them responded enthusiastically as if they were excited to be given a laborious task from their superior.

"Sure," you agreed, more than aware that this was going to be a temporary goodbye to Diego and Carmen, the final allies you'd speak to before heading into a minefield of social complexity, corsets, and lies. You turned to Diego, almost unsure of how to let him depart. It was almost pathetic of you, growing tongue-tied from a simple goodbye. The duo had no semblance of sentimental value to you. All you had was yourself, a dagger, and a large sum of money waiting for you.

"We leave you in capable hands, Your Highness," Diego smiled as he bowed, before quickly winking at you.

"Farewell," Carmen added, her expression illegible as she too, bowed and left with her counterpart.

"Right then," Sebastian led you up the massive staircase. Each step was narrow and troublesome but you attempted to tread smoothly. "Would you care for tea? You toiled through quite a long trip..."

. . .

Tags:

[punkscowardschampions]

Ronnie & Joe

Ronnie: where the fuck mckenna Joe: stuck at this thing Ronnie: like i fucking said Ronnie: where Joe: oh Joe: this kid from my course was doing open mic so we all had to show up Ronnie: youve done youre time then yeah Joe: overtime Joe: i wanna be home bad Ronnie: leave Ronnie: whats keeping you there Joe: them Joe: you know how people are Joe: buying me more drinks Ronnie: fuck em Ronnie: down whatever youre on & fuck off Joe: i will Joe: i am Joe: you picked up or am i Ronnie: its on you Ronnie: for the radio silence Joe: come on baby Joe: can't hear myself in here nevermind my phone Ronnie: not your fucking baby Joe: don't be like that Ronnie: i dont only exist when its quiet in your head Ronnie: thank fuck Joe: no one does then Joe: that's the whole point ain't it Ronnie: the point is where the fuck have you been Joe: i told you ron Joe: if i didnt have to i wouldn't be gone from you Ronnie: if you werent a pussy you wouldnt have to do fuck all Ronnie: grow a pair for christs sake Ronnie: baby is fucking right Joe: ive got to go out sometime Joe: if i didn't show to uni i couldn't afford half the shit we cop Ronnie: you aint at classes Ronnie: so unless some bitch off it is paying you to escort i call bullshit Joe: sadly not Joe: see if any of 'em are game maybe Ronnie: with 1 foot out the door Ronnie: you wish Ronnie: no fucking game when youre trying to play fuck all except cello Joe: 💘 for my cello skills Ronnie: youve got groupies Ronnie: go cry to em like Joe: you're sick of me, yeah Ronnie: work it out cunt Joe: we don't need to play games Ronnie: goin from baby to middle fucking aged aint cute Joe: you've got it covered for the both of us Ronnie: fuck you Joe: now I can't call you cute Ronnie: you cant call me old shithead Joe: i weren't idiot Joe: come on Joe: it'll all be good when i get there Ronnie: you come on Ronnie: I could be fucking dead Joe: you aren't Joe: don't say that Ronnie: no thanks to you Ronnie: or fucks given by you Joe: stop it Joe: you're the only person i care about Joe: literally Joe: not even myself Ronnie: & this is how you show it yeah Joe: i'm shit Joe: i know it but i never told you no different Ronnie: get another drink bought for you mckenna Ronnie: drown in it Joe: we got better plans Joe: and methods Ronnie: stop pissing about then Joe: will you be my baby again Ronnie: not that easy Joe: what if i get you something special Ronnie: do it & find out Ronnie: why the fuck would i commit to a yeah for a maybe Joe: 'cos you know i'm gonna Ronnie: your word is for shit Ronnie: i know that Joe: fine Joe: i'll stop talking Ronnie: promises promises baby Joe: 😶 Ronnie: left yet Joe: just me and my two feet Joe: no promises Ronnie: if you aint & youre silent on me to talk to some other bitch you wont be walking anywhere Ronnie: thats a fucking promise like Joe: if you were trying to get me to go faster Joe: why would i wanna talk to anyone else Ronnie: why else go out with those doss cunts Joe: part of it is keeping 'em thinking i'm normal Joe: can't just show up and nod out Ronnie: youre the only 1 with your ma on speed dial Ronnie: who fucking cares Joe: means i don't need to go back don't it Joe: or would you rather i was in dublin every other weekend Joe: i do what i gotta for a reason you know that Ronnie: theres fuck all need to have that many playmates Ronnie: if you planned that it was to piss me off Joe: i wouldn't need to plan that Ronnie: fuck you Joe: and i didn't Joe: they're boring Ronnie: 💔 Joe: i am Joe: i miss you Ronnie: you dont Joe: yeah i fucking do Ronnie: you fucking dont Joe: how do you want me to prove it Joe: tell me Ronnie: i aint spoonfeeding you ever day of your fucking life Ronnie: not that bitch Joe: you want it you ask for it Ronnie: you wanna prove yourself do it Joe: i will Ronnie: 💘 Ronnie: picked a boss day for romance Joe: have i Joe: i'm always romantic Ronnie: dont you know what day it is Joe: oh Joe: lol yeah Joe: i'll get you garage flowers instead Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: theyll die quicker than you Joe: picky Joe: put the rig to another use after then Joe: 🥀 v classic Ronnie: ill carve it into my arm as you like it so much Ronnie: cheers for the easy design Joe: you could wait 'til I'm there Joe: so mean, baby Ronnie: course you wanna watch Ronnie: putting down the glass like Joe: if you don't know me by now Ronnie: so misunderstood yeah Joe: 💔 Joe: you wish Ronnie: yeah you know me proper well Joe: bollocks Ronnie: keep the sweet talk coming baby Joe: that's not what you like Joe: silence is golden Ronnie: you reckon you know what i like now Joe: yeah Ronnie: took you long enough Joe: you been waiting all your life yeah Ronnie: shut the fuck up Ronnie: puked enough today cheers Joe: see? s'your favourite Joe: can't get enough Ronnie: hating you fuels me Ronnie: aint denying it Joe: you're so welcome Ronnie: got that from your avoidance tactics Joe: i'll turn around then Joe: give you a real reason to live Ronnie: try it Ronnie: ill fucking kill you Joe: have to come find me first Ronnie: yeah & Joe: you threatening me with a good time ain't how this day is supposed to go Joe: know that much Ronnie: itll go however the fuck i say Joe: yeah? Ronnie: you know that much about me mckenna Joe: ain't denying nothing me Ronnie: too busy doing it round your besties Joe: 'cos i don't owe them shit Joe: only you get to know me like that Ronnie: you said you were killing the sweet talk Joe: it ain't its just how it is Joe: you know me Joe: no one else, end of Ronnie: come be with me then Joe: i am Joe: one stop but that'll be worth it Joe: come to mine and stay yeah Joe: don't wanna see the others Ronnie: ill be there before you Ronnie: few streets away Joe: good Joe: i like it when you're there Ronnie: want me to kick the door in so your flatmate girlfriend has a heart attack Joe: go on Joe: if she lives i'll say you forgot your keys Ronnie: ill say its your 💘 day pressie Ronnie: all for you baby Joe: if you're also in a mac, believable Joe: her boyfriend dumped her so she'll definitely be in Ronnie: tonights the night for that 3some Ronnie: hot Joe: only if you kill her first 😏 Ronnie: we need her tears for lube Ronnie: think it through like Joe: we've always got blood, baby Ronnie: keep it up & ill deffo stay Joe: forever Ronnie: ive been waiting all fucking day for you Joe: i'm sorry Joe: i'm making it up to you, alright Ronnie: i mean hurry up Joe: 🚖 it and everything Ronnie: your gf will be thrilled Ronnie: can hear her crying from here like Joe: maybe its the cat Joe: very similar Ronnie: watch your fucking mouth bitch Joe: 😂 Ronnie: 😾 Joe: you're both very cute Ronnie: say that again & well both fuck you up Joe: adorable Ronnie: 🖕 Joe: 👼 you Ronnie: you wish soft cunt Joe: nah Joe: but i'll survive Ronnie: you fucking wont Ronnie: i know you like Ronnie: & what you like Joe: 'cos its you Joe: all you Ronnie: ruined your gfs rom com Ronnie: shes gonna need some of whatever the fuck youre bringing Joe: too bad Joe: its for you Joe: i might have some benzos she can have though Ronnie: 💘 Ronnie: its wild being here when you aint & she is Joe: rude of her to have her drug-fuelled orgies when i ain't in Ronnie: party can really start now i am Ronnie: know shes dying to break the tension Ronnie: 👊💋 Joe: won't make you wait for me on that score, babe Ronnie: like you could Ronnie: bitch is ready to go Joe: you trying to make me jealous of sophie Ronnie: wouldnt use her Ronnie: fuck that Joe: awh Joe: 👼 Ronnie: you trying to say shes hot enough to bait you Ronnie: step your pussy up mckenna Joe: no Joe: i'm saying if you wanted to i would Joe: i'd obviously do anything for and with you Ronnie: we aint taking her virginity Ronnie: youre hard enough fucking work Joe: shut up 😏 Ronnie: make me baby Joe: that's part 2 of the plan Ronnie: you gonna talk me through it or you gonna do it Joe: i know what you like Joe: and how you feel about talking Joe: even if it ain't no empty words bullshit Ronnie: youve still got your tongue Ronnie: means i must wanna hear some shit youve got to say Joe: that means i can tell you all how you won't regret giving sid my tongue as a toy when it can be yours Ronnie: you wont regret leaving those cunts there & coming back to me Ronnie: [pics from his bed like hey it's me] Joe: i already knew that Joe: but keep reminding me whilst i wait for the man Ronnie: you gotta know it harder Joe: you'll know how hard i know it Joe: i'll make you feel it too Ronnie: you can keep you fingers unbroken too like Ronnie: typing that shit while we both wait Joe: don't reckon much to a dealer's idea of foreplay Joe: and i've waited too long for you already Ronnie: youve gotta bring it to em baby Ronnie: junkie law states it aint a real addiction til youve sucked a dick for it Ronnie: romance him Ronnie: [pics again like these will inspire you] Joe: fuck Joe: how 'bout I stay up here on my high horse and enjoy just being addicted to you then Ronnie: how bout you come the fuck home Ronnie: now Joe: yeah Joe: i gotta Joe: i need to see you right now Joe: i got what i really wanted we can top up later Ronnie: ill go out then Ronnie: they plug me faster than theyll do it for you Joe: can't blame 'em Ronnie: yeah you still smell like 🍒 Joe: and they know they ain't getting nothing sucked Ronnie: you could do a toe Ronnie: dont be a pussy Joe: 😂 Joe: i think they'd rather my money Joe: not cute like you Ronnie: fuck you Ronnie: big cal is well into it Joe: tempting Ronnie: hell tell you how pretty you are Joe: just what i need Ronnie: yeah i know Joe: nah you know what i really am Joe: and that's what i want Ronnie: ive got eyes like Joe: me too Joe: even when they're half-shut or pinholed Ronnie: cute Joe: you Ronnie: dont Joe: why Ronnie: cause fucking dont Joe: alright Ronnie: fucks sake Joe: forget it Joe: i'm practically in the door Ronnie: make me

[leelee10898]

Somewhere with you - Drunk on you

Nsfw!!!

Hayden had started to get into the swing of life on the ranch. She rose early and headed down stairs. She over heard Cliff, Duke and Sawyer speaking about the county fair. "Ooh what prize money?" She snuck into the room. They explained the county fair had categories each with a cash prize to win. It wasn't the full 10k they needed, but if they could win the pie and cattle contest they would have some money to advertise their cattle, and bring in some real cash. Sawyer rubbed the back of his neck "I could do the pie contest, but everyone knows what happend two years ago."

"Umm I don't. " she giggled. "Yeah. Its better you dont." Duke grunted. "I'll do it. I can bake." She grinned "That's my girl." Sawyer clapped his hands. Duke and cliff shot Sawyer a pointed look "I mean, that's the spirt." Nobody noticed the blush that spread across her face.

"Im gonna go milk the cows, then feed the Horses. Hayden, come find me in a little while. " Sawyer left. Duke went to talk to Dallas about picking a cow for the contest as cliff lead Hayden into the kitchen. "If we got any shot at this this, its gonna be with this here recipe. It's a guaranteed win I reckon." He handed her an old recipe. "Apple burbon pie. That sounds delicious. " "it is! was my favorite until..." she noticed a bit of moisture in his eyes, his expression changed back to the stern demeanor he wore "it was my wifes, dont screw it up. "

" I won't, I promise. " she softly assured him. "Im gonna go holler at some fish. Calms me right down. " he stomped out of the kitchen. Hayden couldn't help but giggle, she was really starting to love this family she had only known such a short time.

She decided to double the recipe. So that cliff and guys could have some for dessert. She borrowed some bourbon from Juliette and with the help of curly she successfully baked two of momma Oakleys apple burbon pies.

She helped Dallas pick a cow. Hayden decided to name her Tessa, since her facial markings reminded her of a girl she knew in highschool. She shuddered at the thought of the dick shaped brows the girl had.

Once Dallas had taken the heffer away she made way to the field to help Sawyer with the horses. "There you are." He grinned "I was startin' to think you forgot about me." He chuckled. "Never, what do you need me to do?" She batted her lashes at him. He grabbed her waist and pointed to the edge of the ridge. "Look there, wild horses." They were beautiful, everything was beautiful there. "Wow, they're really wild?" She asked. "Yup. Every so often they wrangle em up, an auction em off to keep the population from over growin. See that girl there." He pointed over to a beautiful black horse. "We got her from an auction, haven't had the chance to train her and shes not real keen on people. Duke named her lady." He held out a carrot, the horse paid him no mind. "Wanna try?" He handed her the carrot. She spoke sofly coaxing the horse closer before it reached out and snatched the carrot. Sawyers eyes went wide. "Well I'll be damned. I reckon shes yours now. That is if you want her?"

"Seriously? Your just gonna give me a horse?" She eyed him. "She likes you. Wanna ride her?"

"Absolutely. Help me up?" Sawyer boosted her up onto the horse, she leaned against his strong chest, he breathed in her scent, apples and vanilla. Sawyer mounted dolly and he took off across the field. Hayden followed after, a smile spread across her face. She had never really rode a horse before, but it semed like second nature to her.

"Wanna go faster? " Sawyer grinned. "Umm I don't know, I am barely hanging on here, never rode before. " she blushed. "You look like your doing fine to me." Just then Sawyer took off, The horse which she decided to name Autumn breeze neighed in want. She squeezed her sides with her legs, the horse took off barreling across the feild. The wind blowing in her hair, the scenery blurring past her as she laughed. She felt so alive, so free. Sawyer smiled at the sight of her. He never thought he would find someone to share his life with, he told himself he was content with that. But ever since he laid eyes on Hayden, he felt so drawn to her, like she was meant to be in his life.

They took the horses back to the barn, and put them away. Hayden leaned against the wall, eyeing Sawyer as his muscles contracted against his tight flannel shirt as he shoveled fresh hay into the horses stall. She silently wished he would lose it all together. He took his flannel shirt off tossing it to the side, the removing the white tshirt, her prayers had been answered. She pulled her bottom lip in with her teeth. Sawyer glanced over, her eyes fixed on his every movement "see something you like?" He asked. "Maybe." Her eyes roamed his muscular chest and arms. He shook his head and chuckled. Continuing shoveling the hay.

"Thank you for today Sawyer. It was really nice of you to give me Autumn. Since were just friends." She twirled her hair. Sawyer spun around to face her giving her a side ways look. "Were more then just friends and you know it." He quickly closed the distance. His lips crashing on hers. He made short work of her top and jeans tossing them across the barn. She un fastened his jeans yanking them down around his ankles, his underwear following. He kicked out of them discarding them somewhere on the floor. His lips trailed kisses down her jaw, to her neck as one hand skillfully removed her bra, his two fingers looped her lace panties pulling them down. "Sawyer" His name fell off her lips with a low moan. He lifted her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked her across the room sitting her on a hay bale. He dropped to his kneeds, his hands snaking up her legs as he roughly pushed them apart, spreading them wide open. Her glistening wet pussy on display just for him. An appreciative growl escaping his chest as his lips kissed her slick folds. He Darted his tongue betwen them finding her sensitive bud flicking and sucking lightly on her clit "mmm so fucking sweet." He moaned. Hayden tossed her head back as her hand gripped his cowboy had. "Fuck Sawyer, your so good at that." She pulled his face closer to her wanting center. He develd two fingers into her dripping wet heat, curling them to reach that magic spot. He thrust his fingers into her, his tongue teasing her clit "Sawyers, fuck, yes oh god." She screamed out as she came, sawyer taking everything she gave him. "So fucking tasty Doll." He stood pulling her up, lifting her up again before sitting back down.

She straddled his lap, rocking her hips against his thick hard length. She lifted up and lowered herself onto his cock. A low guttural growl escaping his chest. "Were more then just friends." He gripped her ass "Friends don't do this kind of shit." He bucked up into her. She gripped his broad shoulders as she matched his rhythm bouncing up and down on his long thick dick. She threw her head back "oh god, yes Sawyer." She screamed out as he thrust his hips into her at a delightful pace. She bounced up and down, crashing down harder onto him. She felt herself coming undone as his fingers rubbed tight circles around her clit. "Fuck, Sawyer im gonna, im gonna. Fuuuuuck" she screamed as she road out the intense wave of pleasure that spilled onto his throbbing cock. The sensation threw him over the edge as he thrust into her with two hard pumps, spilling hinself inside of her.

She rested her head against his chest. Steadying her breathing. His words running through her mind. we're more then just friends. Was it to soon? of course they were more the just friends, was he just a fuck buddy? Or something more? "We should probably head inside, time to get supper on." He said pulling her from her thoughts. "Can I help?" A wide smile spread across his face "yeah,I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." They walked to the house hand in hand.

Tag list: @cocomaxley @riseandshinelittleblossom @bobasheebaby @ao719 @katurrade @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @mrsernestsinclaire @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @zaffrenotes

[grapsandclaps]

GRAPS AND CLAPS REVIEWS - PROGRESS WRESTLING CHAPTER 77 "PUMPKIN SPICE PROGRESS".

Hello and welcome everyone to this edition of Graps and Claps, this time taking me to Camden for PROGRESS Wrestling's Chapter 77 'Pumpkin Spice Progress with the huge main event between PROGRESS champion Walter and the SSS16 Winner for 2018 - Zack Sabre Jr. which was a mouth watering prospect on paper and one I personally couldn't wait for as in a surprise I have never seen this match live or on the box which is rare as rocking horse shit in this day and age.

As ever with a trip to London it was a 9 am bus journey to Manchester to catch the 1035 am train to London Euston, thankfully unlike last week's journey to Leeds this went without a hitch and also the happiness of finding a stray £1 coin on a seat on the top deck of the bus - rich beyond my wildest dreams folks. A distinct lack of people from up north made the trip to London for this show, meaning I was drinking on my own in The Black Heart until London friend Steve came in, so I had a good chin wag about the action upcoming and what other stuff had been going on in the world in the past week. Only two pints in here for me both from Amundsen Brewery with the following - 6.5% Apocalyptic Thunder Juice IPA (£6.60) which was really juicy in taste, another winner in the book was a Lorita Pale Ale (£5.40), if you spot any drinks from this brewery make sure you check them out.

Drinks done, it was time to get into the Ballroom and take my position up on the raised perch with Athers for the first time (a great viewing spot if you can get up there early enough). The Ballroom in the time since I last came for the 1978 show has grown a big screen where the sound booth once resided, another happening is a change in the beer lines available with a Sharp's Brewery IPA, Spaten and Franziker Weissbier taking pride of place on the bar which is a welcome move away from the usual Camden Pale. So with that all said let's get into what went down on this cold Sunday afternoon!

First up we had pre-show action with the lesser seen Kyle Ashmore taking on JJ Lynch who I found out ply's his trade in Battle Pro Wrestling down south. Opening part of this contest was the audience shouting out that Ashmore had a resemblance for some reason to Uncle Albert of Only Fools and Horses fame, plus yes it was me who started the 'Baldy Baldy' chant to absolute silence as ever from the London crowd who don't do singing like they used to (Thanks to the Taffs for trying to join in). JJ Lynch impressed me in this first look at him as he hit a headbutt to Ashmore to stun him but Ashmore rolled out of the ring. Back in the ring Lynch hit a Superkick for a 2 count but that was as good as it got for Lynch as Ashmore hit a big JOHN WOO! and then a elevated back cracker to Lynch for the 3 count to end a tidy pre-show match and maybe the best Pre-show match in ages.

After the opening messages from Jim Smallman, we started off with the main card and a change to the advertised match up as Tyler Bate wasn't fit to compete after picking up an injury at Fight Club Pro at the weekend. Instead we had one half of the fearsome Ringkampf duo, Timothy Thatcher taking on a repackaged version of Pastor William Eaver who is now going by the name of 'Present' William Eaver - the basis of this character is that of a upmarket street preacher (A touch of the Bray Wyatt's here) coming out saying that 'Today is the Day' which I initially thought of a great song Eaver should come out to - go and check on Youtube for the Sean Maguire hit 'Today's the Day' which was a popular tune in the 90's.

Anyways on to the match, Timo hit a big T-Bone Suplex and followed up with a Judo throw slam for a 2 to Eaver. Eaver though eventually got the grasps of things as he beatdown Thatcher in the corner leading to Timo to hulk up by slapping the taste out of Eaver's mouth but Eaver retaliated with a Uranage Backbreaker to stun Tim. Tim though came back to hit an enziguri to the back of Eaver's head and then following up with an arm submission to get the tapout victory in around 10 minutes. Was what it was for an opener, even though it is early days Eaver's gimmick I can't say I was sold on it but time will tell for the Former PROGRESS Champion!

Second up was yes you guessed it PROGRESS Women's Division action with Isla Dawn taking on Millie McKenzie with the latter trying to build momentum after not being able to capture the title in the 3-way at Wembley, Even though this match was 6 minutes long, this was a really good match between two women who you will be certain to hear much more from in the future, Isla at one stage locked in a Dragon Sleeper to Millie that was until Millie managed to reach the ropes to break the hold, Millie though made a fightback hitting a couple of crazy back German suplexes to Dawn but as it looked like Millie was on her way to victory, Jinny and Laura Di Matteo made an unwelcome appearance to lay the boots to Dawn and Millie, that was until her Jinny's former House of Couture mates Nina Samuels and Charlie Morgan came down to fend them away making both Jinny and LDM to fall in the arms of Isla and Millie who hit stereo Germans to send them packing to the back.

Sadly no explanation yet to why the House of Couture split up but it will at least be good to see both Nina and Charlie Morgan at least get some wrestling time in PROGRESS instead of mooching around on the ring apron watching Jinny.

Third match was a PROGRESS Atlas Title Open Challenge match with the Champion Trent Seven offering anyone in the back the opportunity to take him on in his first defence of his newly won belt when he defeated Doug Williams at Wembley Arena. The person to take this opportunity was none other than the MCW Heavyweight Champion - Gino " Mr. Juicy" Gambino. Gambino was on the upside of things early on as he hit a couple of running splashes in the corner to Trent, but all that running left Gino with no juice in the tank which led to Trent passing Gino an inhaler only for Gambino to spray this in Trent's eyes (a really good inventive spot).

This temporary blindness for Trent led to Gino being on top for the next couple of minutes but Trent managed to fight Gino off with knife edge chops and a DDT for the two count. At a vertical base Gino flattened Trent and followed up with a big splash to get a two count, as it looked like Trent's reign was in trouble Trent somehow managed to hit a massive suplex to Gino - Christ Almighty! The big spots didn't end there as Juicy hit a Piledriver for a 2 count but that only awoke Trent who managed of all things hit a Burning Hammer to the 330 pound monster from Australia to get the 3 count to retain the Atlas Title - Excellent big lads action that I didn't have much expectation for but this was a BIG thumbs up from me.

Your first half Main Event was for the PROGRESS Tag Team titles with the first defence for Aussie Open (Mark Davis & Kyle Fletcher) taking on the Grizzled Young Veterans (James Drake & Zack Gibson) and also the 17:35pm 198 bus service from Cardiff to London in the form of 'Flash Morgan Webster' and Bill Bailey doppelganger Wild Boar. Lots of green material on show here as the action got underway in the early feeling out process as the match built to a great crescendo with all three teams coming close on a number of occasions to winning the match. 

The Aussies hit a fidget spinner at one stage only to be dragged out of the ring by Gibson, but as teamwork was much needed in this match Gibson who had grabbed a stray chair he accidentally hit his own tag team partner James Drake to possibly plant the seeds for a break up which was hinted at on the USA tour a month or two ago. With the GYV's out of the way Webster was in the ring to hit headbutts to Aussie Open but this had no effect on them as Davis hit the 'Close Your Eyes and Count To Fuck' Piledriver of Doom and then Fletcher joined hit to hit the fidget spinner with Davis t0 end the 198's hopes of winning to end an all action tag match and end a really fun first half of action.

Back from the break we had Eddie Dennis interrupting an entrance by one of the people who pledged money to the Progress Documentary. Eddie who has some valid points, was unhappy at being left off the card despite beating Mark Andrews at Wembley and that he would cash in his No.1 contenders opportunity when he see fit. The crowd even though Eddie in hindsight is supposed to be a baddie, cheered a lot of what he was saying and in a way can you blame them, out of the current No.1 contenders I am certainly more intrigued to see how Eddie's story ends.

Talking of people from Eddie's past we came to a match between two wrestlers who both ended up on the losing side at Wembley Arena with the terrifying Paul Robinson taking on what seems perennial loser at the moment and in need of a freshen up Mark Andrews. In what was a rematch from Chapter 10 and the first Natural Progression Series, we got off to a great start in this match with both Andrews and Robbo hitting dives to the outside with the fans scrambling out of the way whenever Robbo was in the vicinity.

Back in the ring Andrews hit a reverse rana to Robinson for a two count, but as Andrews went up top to hit the Shooting Star Press he was unfortunately straddled by Robinson on the top rope leaving Robinson to hit a Huaracarana sending Andrews crashing to the mat leaving him prone for a Curb stomp from Robinson who duly pinned Andrews in around 10 minutes to get the win. Onwards and upwards for Robinson for now, for Andrews it is back to the drawing board once again to figure out - Who the real Mark Andrews is??

Semi Main time with a No.1 contenders match to the PROGRESS title with the usual faces in these No.1 contenders matches taking part in the form of Jimmy Havoc and Mark Haskins who both gained big wins at the Wembley Arena show, joining them in this three way was #CCK himself - Chris Brookes who last had an opportunity at the big belt at the turn of the year coming close to beating then Champion Chris Brookes (I'm not counting the 3 minutes Walter no contest in Hamburg). On reflection this was a good match, but for me a downgrade from what had followed before it, Jimmy Havoc was on his way to victory that was until Drew Parker came from out of nowhere to attack Jimmy from behind to take him out of the running by dragging his lifeless body up the ramp and through the curtain. With the odds drastically reduced for the remaining two folks in the ring, it was Mark Haskins who was the one get the victory on Brookes as he locked in the Sharpshooter Submission before leaning back to tap out Brookes in 14 minutes.

After the match Haskins got on the mic to proclaim that after all of the setbacks he was back on top of his game once again to hopefully take the PROGRESS World Title in the future, but I have a bad feeling that if he came up against Walter he would end up on the short end of things but we shall see if that materialises.

With the clock striking 7 p.m it was now time for your Main Event with the unstoppable force of WALTER taking on Zack Sabre Jr with the latter coming out to the Idles tune 'Mother' which was welcome relief away from the Casio Keyboard music which is around once again. My god what can be said about this match - duelling chants from the crowd with a 50/50 split in terms of who people wanted to win here, we had chop battles where at times Zack was trying to wind up Walter by saying that the chops were not having that great an effect on his body - at one stages ZSJ gave Walter the middle fingers which would be a death wish for anyone else but this is Zack Sabre Jr. we are talking about here.

Reversals galore by both men, as Zack tried to grab any stray body parts when Walter was on the floor or at a vertical base - Zack is just smooth as silk in this situation. At one stage though as the match reached fever pitch it looked like Walter was ready to tap to another deadly submission from the Technical Wizard but alas the Austrian managed to escape Zack's clutches when at coming up to 30 minutes in the contest Walter hit the 'Fire Thunder Driver' to Zack to end a breathless and enthralling contest to retain the PROGRESS World Title to send the Camden faithful excited at what they had just seen. In closing though on this match, in terms of PROGRESS matches of the year I would put this slightly above Bate vs Walter at Wembley so make sure you go and check this out once it hits the On Demand service in 5-7 Working Days *Terms and Conditions apply.

Wrestling done, it was time to get back on my way to Rochdale getting back in the 'Dale for Midnight to end another long weekend of japes on my travels. So with that said, I hope you have enjoyed reading this review and as ever any comments and feedback are welcome! Until then I will bid you farewell - BYE!!

@oggypart3

#grapsandclaps 

[annaphoenix1994]

Colter - The Aftermath of Genesis

Arthur interrupted Pearson's quiet thoughts with a cough, seeing that Pearson had been waiting for the fire he had created to pick up. "We're gonna starve to death up here, Mister Morgan," He spoke.

"We're okay," Arthur assured, rubbing his hands together.

"We have a few cans of food and a rabbit. For what, ten, twelve people? When I was in the Navy-"

"I-I do not wish to hear about what you got up to in the Navy, Mr. Pearson," Arthur replied, not interested.

"We were stranded at sea for fifty days-"

"And you unfortunately survived..." Arthur teased.

"When we ran away from Blackwater, I wasn't able to get supplies in!" Pearson explained.

"Well when government agents are hunting you down, sometimes shopping trips need to be cut short!" Arthur replied, watching Pearson carry the pot to the brewing fire. "We'll survive...we always have...and if needs be, we can eat you, you're the fattest," Arthur continued with his crude humor.

"I sent Lenny and Bill hunting and they found nothing!" Pearson argued, soon being joined by Charles Smith, who was gripping his still-injured hand.

"Well, Lenny's more into book learning than hunting," Arthur chuckled, holding his palms to the fire. "Bill's a fool. Unless those mountains are full of game that wanna read, ain't no wonder they found nothin'!"

Arthur really did not want to go out and face the snow again. For once, just once, he wanted to stay inside and not do anything else.

"Enough of this," Charles intervened. "We'll go find something. Come on, Arthur."

Arthur grunted as he was once again chosen for a task he didn't want to do, but he knew someone had to do it and he didn't want Charles to go off by himself.

"Wait a second, hold on," Pearson said as he made his way to his make-shift butcher's table, retrieving a can of salted Offal for them to take. "Here, you're gonna need something to eat out there!"

"Assorted, salted offal," Arthur read from the can. "Starving would be preferable."

"Come on, let's go."

"You can't go huntin', look at your hand!" Arthur protested.

"I can't stay here listening to you two," Charles replied. "Look, if there's game in those hills I'll find it and you can kill it."

"You need to rest, Charles!"

"You think this is rest?" Charles argued. "Come along."

───※ ·❆· ※───

Valentine, New Hanover

Minnie scarfed down a shot of harsh whiskey. She was never one to drink cheap liquor, but with the past couple of days being so rough, she didn't care. As long as it burned her throat and had her craving more, she wouldn't protest.

Her father, Jameson Barlow, had a cabin just north of Citadel Rock. It was small, quiet, and comfortable - somewhere for her to go when her actions got the better of her. She felt selfish for calling her father's home her preferred hideout as her father was the complete opposite of her: an honest, working man who made honest money. He knew who she was and what she was capable of, but he knew he couldn't change her ways. He swore to never tell her, but he never properly accepted the money she would gift to him as it was stolen. Instead, he stored it in a chest under his bed, promising himself to never touch it, even in an emergency.

"You want another?" The bartender asked his regular customer.

"Nah, I'm good for now," Minnie replied, embracing the burning sensation coating her throat. "I wouldn't mind some of that beef stew, though." She added.

"Sure thing, ma'am."

She nodded and took a few peanuts from the small bowl as they were available for everybody, setting aside the shells as she ate. She couldn't help but see a couple of men in the corner, pretending to play Dominoes, scouting her out. She hid a sly smirk as they must have thought she was stupid. Everybody knew around here that the O'Driscoll's wore a green vest or scarf and most of them lacked common sense.

She knew they were after her.

"Thank you." She smiled at the bartender as he brought over a fresh bowl of stew. Her stomach growled as she had gone without a whole meal for a few days, only relying on small game and wild berries to satisfy her hunger.

"No problem, Miss." He replied while setting down a glass of water for her as it was complimentary with every meal.

She soon finished her meal, requesting another shot of whiskey as she knew she was going to get in another fight sooner or later.

"See you around!" She said almost too loud, alerting the two O'Driscoll's who had been watching her.

She tossed a couple of coins down on the counter before slinging her coat over her shoulder while her spurs jingled as her heavy boots collided with the wood floor. She nodded in greeting at everybody she had come in eye contact with as she walked out the door, even the two O'Driscoll's who were after her, using her sly grin and short wink as a 'fuck you' to them as she passed by.

Instead of mounting her horse, she turned to the right to the small alleyway that ran towards the back of the buildings. "Where you goin', Miss?" One of the O'Driscoll's said.

She turned around slowly to study them. At one point in her life, she was a secret agent for the Pinkerton Detective Agency, specializing in hand-to-hand combat, security, and weaponry. She had also posed as a spy to expose crude companies such as the oil industry and acts of the mob in the surrounding areas. During one of her assignments, her supervisor, Andrew Milton, conspired against her as she "knew too much" about the industry and attempted to have her killed. After figuring out the plan, she had turned against him and the Pinkerton Detective Agency and robbed Andrew Milton before running from the law, becoming the well-known Minnie "Bandit" Barlow.

"Ain't none of your business where I'm goin'," She replied.

"Is too!" One of the O'Driscoll's replied, his hands on his gunbelt. "You're a wanted lady, Miss Barlow!"

"Don't know what you're talkin' about, Mister," She chuckled, shaking her head.

"Oh, I think you know. You're a wanted lady. About eight thousand for your hide! And I don't know about you, but I could do with a good chunk of cash like that!"

Minnie scoffed, "Yeah? And I could do with gettin' in a good fight. I need to burn off some excess energy!"

"That's it! Get her!" The man said as they both clenched their fists, lunging at her. She ducked from one's punch but received a punch to the side from the other. She groaned at the sudden pain and hunched over before delivering a blow to the man's groin, buying her time to take care of the other man who was well on his feet. She blocked his punches as she grabbed his left wrist, using her small fist to target his major pressure points throughout his torso, such as his jaw, solar plexus (under the sternum), and kidneys. The man groaned as she used items around her for her advantage, such as using the saloon wall to slam his temple before he slumped to his feet in defeat.

The other man finally stood to his feet before attempting to deliver another punch or grab to her, but she was too fast. She used her knee to bury into his sternum as he gripped her thigh and calf as he attempted to take another breath. She then delivered a strong punch to his nose, upwards towards his face, making it bleed almost instantly before slamming him into the wall as well. She blew a piece of her stray blonde hair from her face as she shook her fist, staring at the two men lay before her. "You jackass, you got your blood all over my knuckles!" She snarked before kneeling down to the men, "What're you bastards doin' here?" She questioned.

"I-I..." He gargled.

"I-I can't hear you!" She mocked as she gripped his collar.

"We were told to kidnap you and take you to Colm!" He cried. As much as she loved to be feminine, she also took pleasure in putting the fear of God into a man when she needed to.

She chuckled, "Colm O'Driscoll? Yeah? Well, you tell him just where he can find me, but you and I both know he won't!" She hissed, gripping the man's collar harder, pulling him closer to her. "I'll do the same thing to him like I just did to you two!" She warned.

"You and your big and bad words!" He taunted.

"Big and bad words, huh? Want me to brand you as we do to livestock? Is that it?" She questioned as she pulled out her massive hunting knife.

"Better than dyin' by the hands of you!" He cursed.

She nodded her head before taking the tip of her knife and poking it through the sensitive skin just below his left eye socket. It was a small cut, but big enough for any lawman or government agent to recognize within the region: A snake eye - a well-known mark done by only the hands of Minnie Barlow.

Resembling the Pinkerton Detective Agency's popular slogan: We Never Sleep, hence putting a small cut just below the eye socket as it took longer to heal, keeping the victim awake.

"Sometimes, snakes are just within your sight," She whispered as he groaned at the new pain. "If you don't mind, I'm just gonna take everything from ya here and be on my way!" She taunted as she looted his pockets. The man took a deep breath as she let go of his collar, his torso thudding against the mud. He didn't give up, though, as he wrapped his arm weakly around her leg as she stood, trying to stop her from leaving.

"Let go of my boot!" She warned as she jerked her foot from his grasp, using her spur to gouge him in the arm before walking out of the alleyway towards her broad buckskin Quarter Horse, nodding at the local townfolk who had just seen what had happened.

She would be lying if she said her adrenaline wasn't pumping. She took a cheap thrill in running from people who were after her, whether it be government agents or local gangs, she enjoyed it far better than doing honest work for the government as she now felt the government's work was more crooked than being an outlaw.

Her horse loped along the trail as she purposely took the long way to her father's cabin, eager to see him after a couple of weeks. She continuously studied the area for any threats as she neared her destination, wanting to avoid any harm to her father and his land as he had always worked hard to keep his home as private and secluded as he could.

"Pa!" Minnie said as she slowed her horse, dismounting at the hitching post as he had slowly walked through the front door with a pipe hanging loosely from his lips.

"Evenin', darling," He croaked. "How are you?"

"I'm doin' well, pa," Minnie smiled as she stepped up onto the porch, engulfing her father in an embrace, finding the smell of his tobacco comforting. "I brought you somethin'," She added as she pulled out a money clip from her pocket as well as a tin of cigars.

"Thank you," He smiled as he sat down in the rocking chair, releasing a cloud of smoke. "If ya don't mind, put it on the mantle and bring out the whiskey! You look like you could use a drink!" He chuckled.

"Sure thing!" She nodded as she walked into the cabin, seeing that a small fire had been lit in the hearth. She walked closer to the mantle, seeing that her father and mother's wedding photo was still presented in the middle of the hearth. "I miss you so much, ma," She whispered as she picked up the frame, flipping it over to see her mother's handwriting on the back: JAMESON AND EMMA BARLOW - 1837

She smiled as she looked up at the bust of a buck that was mounted above the mantle. A small six-point buck that her mother had killed a few years ago and had gotten so excited at her first kill as she was never the one to hunt, but to always provide, hence why her father called the location "Six Point Cabin." It was his way to always remember her as it was one of the many exciting moments of her life before she passed.

"I hope you're keepin' dad sane in this cruel world," She continued, putting down the frame before looking at the photo of her as a child: MINNIE ANNA BARLOW - 1867

"What the hell happened?" She chuckled as she degraded herself before putting the photo back on the mantle before returning to the task at hand. She grabbed the bottle of whiskey as she walked out back onto the porch, taking a seat in the rocking chair beside her father.

"What took ya so long? My throat was gettin' dry!" He joked as he reached for the bottle.

She giggled, "Just looked at momma's photo you got on the mantle and got to missin' her," She frowned.

Jameson nodded, "I miss your momma every day. Tuberculosis was real bad back then - still is," He explained as he took a sip of the whiskey, grunting as the strong liquor coaxed his throat.

"I understand," She frowned, looking down at the toes of her boots. "If I could've done anything to prevent it, I would've!"

"Minnie, darling, there wasn't anything you could've done. That disease affects older people the most. It's progressive and there's no stoppin' it. Stop blamin' yourself for it. I did and now I feel more at peace," He explained, lighting his pipe once more, taking a long drag before continuing. "You know, I met a feller a while back when I had to go to Saint Denis, some Indian feller who was hoping to find peace within his tribe - met him on the train. We had got to talkin' and your momma's passing came along. He said that she was lucky. I looked at him like he was crazy and made him explain. He said that most people don't know when they're gonna die, nor do they have that closure or time to find peace before passing. He said that she at least got to find peace and be with us before she went as comfortably as she could. That's when I opened my eyes and realized that I needed to stop blaming myself for it and to embrace her spirit and energy as she is looking over us,"

Minnie wasn't one to have a soft heart for regular people, but when it came to family, everything she was known for was unknown. She held back a tear at her father's explanation, taking note that she may have to do the same in order to move on with her life. She loved her mother unconditionally, but she could never let go of the guilt she felt she had to carry when her mother got diagnosed with Tuberculosis. Minnie was known for being so strong and relentless but felt helpless when she watched her own mother pass away in her arms in her now father's cabin in eighteen ninety-six.

"Do you remember this fella's name? I may need to pay him a visit. Seems like he has tons of wisdom, not much more than you, of course," She teased.

Jameson chuckled, reaching over and patting the top of her hand with his own, reassuring his daughter, "Rains Fall was his name."

[marzipandox]

The Witch of The Wilds has been harassing the town of Adlersbrunn for years, but it comes to a head when Fareeha finds herself trapped between a terrible circumstance; let herself fall into the hands of The Witch, or let The Witch destroy her town. But The Witch is not all that she seems either, and Fareeha may just find a horrific past and an ulterior motive under the sweet honey smiles of The Witch.

Oh snap, its a Pharmercy halloween fic!! I’m going to post the chapter under the cut as well, but it’d mean a lot if you read the original and its other chapters at the source!

    Overhead, quiet as an owl, soared a woman of extraordinary intelligence. She was a fey individual, a terrible trickster who spent her free time ruining the lives of others in any way she saw fit. Her mouth watered and her eyes stretched wider as she stared into the darkness about her, like she could see through the fog and gloom into the very souls of every living thing that existed below her, all the way down to bugs and beyond. She couldn’t help but let out a delighted squeal, leaning harshly to one side to spin her about on her long, thin broom. With unearthly speed, she zipped above the thick forest below her towards a tall, crumbling castle high upon a cliff. Below her the forest cleared where a lake had formed, and seeing her own reflection below her almost spooked the Witch enough to crash, but she recovered from the shock of seeing her own shape and pulled on her broom to bring herself back up. She continued to make a beeline for the castle before her.

    As she drew closer, she saw something that made her giddier than a child with a new toy: the castle was packed with people, lights shining in every window, and the trail leading up was packed with carriages and carts and groups of people, funneling further into the castle. This was going to be just wonderful! She thought with utter certainty. She slowed her travel, swinging around the back of the stone structure to see if there was some unguarded entrance she could sneak in through. She found a window with no lights in it: just an empty, abandoned room. She wrestled the glass pane in, slid it to the floor, and wiggled in after it, rolling away giggling. Getting up and dusting herself off, she kept the window open, in case she needed to make an escape.

    "Oh, Reaper~!" She called into the darkened guest room. It made sense in her impish mind for her to take it; she was a guest, after all, and had one of her own on the way. The darkness grew and swelled, and before her stood the hunched form of what looked to be a headless horseman, minus a horse. He was tall and strongly-built, and filled the room with light from his well-carved replacement head. The collar to his coat went high along the sides of his head and cast strange shadows upon the wall when he looked about.

    "Gabriel, darling," The Witch purred, clasping her hands and setting them against her cheek in a begging motion. "Will you be so kind as to guard me tonight?” She asked, syrup-sweet, though she knew full well that he could not refuse her. “I don’t want to be interrupted when I step outside to do a touch of work."

    "Fine…" He grumbled softly, turning away from her towards the door, but left opening it to her, out of spite. The Witch saddled her hovering broom and pulled a thick book from her hip, flipping through it leisurely. The Reaper pulled two large shotguns from his coat and leaned against the door, grumbling with his impatience. The Witch sat up suddenly, pleased with what she’d found. Returning the book to her side, she yanked the door open and flew out with incredible speed, squealing giddily as she zipped down the corridor towards the festival halls, huge and bright and decorated. The Witch delighted as what was originally the cheer and chatter of partiers turned into screams of fear and surprise as they noticed her and the Reaper trailing after. She looked below her and saw their shocked faces. Being All Hallow's Eve, they were all dressed up, but not a single one had dared dress up as her. Good choice on their part, she thought. The Reaper had taken the form of unearthly black smoke which swirled and morphed as it slunk behind the speeding witch.

    Wasting no time for fear of his escape, the Witch dove through the doorway of the throne room, coming to a screeching stop before the King, who stared up at her like a man caught stealing. The Witch found his surprise and fear absolutely adorable, and couldn’t help but lick her lips as she soaked it up. How she wished she could have it frozen and hung on her bedroom wall – but this was not the time to lament. No, she was much too busy. The guards that protected the King rushed to get him from the hall to a safer location, but the Reaper quickly took care of them, leaving bloody pools lifeless corpses where they once stood. The civilians still in the room raced out, fearing for their lives. Unprotected and outmatched, the King could do little more than sit there to see what the Witch wanted.

    "Reinhardt~! Long time no see, darling!!" The Witch giggled like a schoolgirl as she stared at him, lying down on her broom before flipping over to hang upside down. The Reaper stood off to the side, his guns drawn threateningly.

    "What do you want, witch?" The King growled, leaning forward in his chair.

    "So rude! To think the only reason I would visit the great king was because I wanted something? I'm truly hurt, Wilhelm!" The Witch set her hands over her heart, pouting at him. She couldn’t keep her serious attitude for long, and couldn't help but laugh as she dropped to her feet.

    "No, you're correct," she purred, sauntering up to the larger man. "All I want from you is my payment! It's All Hallow's Eve, dear King! And I was true to our pact – but you, you haven't even lifted a finger to fulfill your side. You owe me quite a lot of books! Books I know you can’t pull from behind your chair like I know you wish you could. How terrible would it be for your citizens to learn that you're this untrustworthy! That the whole reason they've been safe this past year has not, in fact, been because you're the strong leader they think you are? That it's because you made a pact with a terrible witch?!" She wailed dramatically, collapsing against the arm of his throne. She theatrically set a hand to her forehead, barely containing a giggle. "Oh no, we couldn’t have that, could we~?" She walked her fingers up his arm, fluttering her eyelashes at him, before she pulled herself back up and waltzed away to drape herself over the Reaper.

    "And, as incredibly powerful as I am, my dear Reaper could very well go rogue, having been betrayed like this – he's tied in too, you know – and that'd just be terrible, wouldn’t it? So –" she stood before him again, arms crossed and feet set wide apart. "What shall you do, dear King?"

    The King was visibly conflicted. Frankly, he had no clue what he could offer her; the Witch was a picky woman, and convincing her would not be done easily. "Will you take money? Land? What can I give you?" the King asked, cursing himself for showing his ignorance.

    The Witch grinned wide as she realized what he’d said, eyes shining bright. She nearly drooled with the thought of the opportunity, rising high on her broom. "Oh, dear King, I don’t want money! No, I want something of true, usable value! Perhaps… a life or two~?"

    She landed gracefully again, drawing close with her broom in hand. "Do you remember that one woman you hired? A certain… Alchemist? Yes, the Alchemist. How rude that old bat is! Did she tell you she shot me in the chest? Hurt terribly, too. The only reason she didn’t take me down was that you didn’t give the poor woman iron bullets! Your loss, too." She pouted once more, tracing a nasty little circular scar upon the skin above her heart. "Well, I learned she has a daughter – how wonderful for her, yes? So, all I want from you is her daughter. Bring me the Alchemist's daughter, alive, and all will be forgiven~."

    "What!? That is an impossible demand!" He finally stood, stepping forward to intimidate The Witch but she didn’t move at all from her position.

    "It's difficult yes, but I'm certain you can do it! Besides, if you don’t, it'll go poorly in your favor." She lowered her head, staring at him with hardening eyes.

    "And if I don't?" The King challenged, crossing his arms as he stared The Witch down.

    "Oh, but you will, King. Because if you won't, your knights and dear hailed heroes will not be able to protect you, for I have a weapon I have not yet unleashed upon you, one that no one could stop. So you will do this, or you will die." For the first time, her face went hard and cold, a deep, angry scowl on her face.

    The King wanted to call her bluff, say she was lying, but he had experienced her enough in the past to know The Witch did not lie. “Lying is a sin, and I do not sin.” The Witch would say, as if her mere existence wasn’t a sin. With no other choice, The King agreed. "… Fine, Witch. But if I do this, you will not return to my castle under any circumstances, understood?" The King threatened as much as he could.

    The Witch only sighed and nodded as her face went soft with her smile, knowing well that she had won. "I promise on my life, I will not return to your castle if you pay me this. But, that does not bar me from your town. Know that, dear King.

    "Oh, and one last thing," she hopped back onto her broom, facing away from him to fly her way out of the hall. "I would like The Alchemist's daughter by the 13th. I will visit you that day for her, and if you do not have her, that night I will attack you. Understood? Wonderful. Goodbye King! And good luck!" And without waiting for his response, she took off laughing, knowing she had won this battle and prevented any in the future. The Reaper took off behind her once more as a cloud of smoke, and just like that, the two were gone into the night. This left the poor King to sit alone and ponder how he was to accomplish this terrible task he was forced to complete.

[the-firebird69]

wild horse saloon - Google Search

My question is where is the saloon and when and which one is it I've been in several when I think was the steakhouse and I'm right for says the other was in California and it was a big bar and saloon but it was very Western and he said yes it's correct I did a lot of line dancing they're doing some there and you didn't join in you're having some stomach issues and had to sit there rude them it's so rude. You had a non-alcoholic deer and you had some fun and we're talking with your blood you went with and think it was dan. Yes then the roper roper license plate he says any roped in the parking lot and thought it was amazing cuz it was cuz a damn good roper that's an awesome time it doesn't look it but I'm kind of a amateur gunslinger.

You told Daniel his cap gun on the story when looked at me believed him and they all started researching it one of them couldn't tell cuz it was late they thought it was a cap gun and they saw it was solid and it sounds very shiny this is covered with Mercury and it's fused to it and everyone started looking for it and it's a Saturday night special that everyone sings about that got him famous people were constantly talking about it.

There's some huge successes there and this is one of them Dempsey had a bird it's a real gun and I found out Uncle Donald might be taking it everyone flipped out and started following him around he's he said say this you will leave me alone it started said we need to know about it they said I don't know anything about it it's my gun I go down there and I shoot people like you keep bothering me what is it is it a special he says no it seems to be heavy then he says why what is it titanium they won't tell him if they go around looking for it I find them with it and they try to start scanning and they do more stuff it's really easy but you probably get killed really try it a lot of people got killed

Thor said that it says it too he's like in a shoe box with cotton around them and then Hera has mop and other woman came and saved him his life became wonderful again and he learned to communicate with her and she says it's fairly well it's not perfect and he does pretty good but it changed his life because he had hoped then and now he has a lot of it and she's going to be waiting at the saloon at some point and we will hear about it and he's saying it again

I'm about to go mad on you no well yes a little I'm going to set up the saloon in this little plan and we're going to see how it goes because I'm the president of this company today now he says I'm vice president the other day and I really don't work everyday it's every other day and it probably land on your day and so I said okay you can stop wow this was like to be married yeah and we're off we're going to set this up and we're going to do it cuz they want to get you for social security fraud and then try and cut you off social security it all sorts of ways to make it work then it's going to be like this it's a windfall this girl saying it I'm trying to change the law and we're going to hit him it's going to be a fantastic voyage cuz tons of these retarded folk do it all the time need to see it what he's going to do is keep the money and put it in a bank and they're going to be trying to go after all the time and the idiot will probably do it and get mad and it'll probably take more of his territory

Hera

Zues

This is a fascinating story no it's our story we're all involved and we all started drooling when we heard his idea and it was his idea and hers and it's an amazing idea cuz they've been working on it and he knows that he get money for something but it was like for what and what was his role what would it be so you'd have like a note in the bag it says for your work is president and something something and he probably throw it away somewhere and the wastebasket up by that railroad crossing so that everybody who tried to harm Uncle Paul can get killed again even though the characters were there probably dead long ago everyone agrees except for the foreigners cuz they don't want to kill them and they want him to succeeded something the biggest American company to Asia so he can teach them like that crazy guy whose vulture how to make cars to make American bikes

Thor Freya

Olympus

[ourholly101love]

Chase The Lightning Inuyasha style Fanfiction

Authors Note. This story Can Also be Found On my Mediaminer Account under the Name holly101

CHAPTER ONE

Somebody had cut the fence on purpose Inuyasha Pulled on a pair of gloves and started repairing the barbed wire he hated this….barbed wire and riding the boundaries of mirokus ranch looking for damage it was time to leave it all behind and disappear into the mountains to hut for his own food travel into to the reaches of the rocky mountains where no human had ever been…to wake up in the morning to absolute quiet of the mountains,to watch the stars at night unencumbered by the sounds of humans. Inuyasha had admitted to himself long ago that he didnt really like humans,and they certainly didn’t like him. Miroku and Sango and their twins were the exception,they were the only family he had,the only family he wanted,and thats why he was stuck here for another two months,he had promised Miroku he would stay and look after the place.

A shot rang out and Inuyasha knew he was hit even before the burning sensation in his side began to grow.he looked down as he dropped to the ground, the bullet had passed through cleanly and blood was pouring from his wound another shot was fired from the heavy cover of the trees the bullet whizzing over inuyasha’s head he lay in the grass, Inuyasha blew a low whistle and his black stallion galloped to his side.a rifle was slung from the saddle and a third shot rang out,Inuyasha pulled himself to his feet and slid the rifle from its boot,Absently he stroked the horses neck the stallion was a good mount, well trained and unafraid of gun fire it would have made a good battle horse in the old days, Inuyasha slapped the horses rump and watched it trot away as he dropped into the tall grass a fourth shot went wild as Inuyasha aimed blindly into the stand oftrees and fired, after his third unanswered shot Inuyasha knew his attacker had fled whoever had ambushed him was a coward who was unwilling to be fired on in return,he sat in the grass and pulled his shirt over his head,the flow of blood was steady and inuyasha warped his shirt around his mid section tying the sleeves together as tightly as he could, Ambushed he wasn’t surprised not really, most everybody wanted him dead.

Rising slowly Inuyasha whistled for his horse and with silent effort he pulled himself into the saddle and turned towards the ranch knowing his wound was just above his waist he figured he could doctor it himself.he never asked anyone for help before and he wasn’t about to start now,there were bandages and fresh water for cleaning the wound at the cabin, his make shift bandage had slowed the blood,though it continued,and a short time later Inuyasha became dizzy,for a split second he thought he saw Tala ahead of him guiding him to the cabin but his loyal companion was dead shot in the head by some cowboy who didn’t like the idea of wolves mixing with people, but Inuyasha liked that wolf better then most people.Sango had cried for three days,and had insisted on burying the wolf she named tala and placing a marker on her grave, Inuyasha never admitted to Anyone not even Sango how much he missed that animal, but he did.The sun was setting and Inuyasha began to believe if he didn’t reach the cabin soon he would bleed to death.there in the distance barley more then a silhouette against the setting sun was kikyo her head held high as she waved to him of course it wasn’t kikyo she was still in Denver probably married by now to some well bred gentlemen with pure blood.as Inuyasha watched the woman who had waved at him change into a sapling, a young tree bending in the wind and his hallucination was replaced with reality. No one in edo not even Miroku knew what happened during Inuyasha’s trip to Denver, where he exchanged his Firerat for a plain black suit and clubbed his hair securing it with a leather strap he had plenty of money for his brief forays to the city he had allowed Miroku to invest his share of the profits of the sale of their silver mine and Miroku had made them a fortune, Inuyasha knew that in a way Miroku hated the fact that he had a talent for making money a talent his grandfather had,for Miroku broke away from his grandfathers Influence and his stifling Japanese background but like it or not Miroku had the golden touch and Inuyasha was grateful he did, the money had helped Inuyasha gain entry into Denver society which treated him differently then the people of edo.

His bankers invited him to dinner parties and he attended curious about these people who seemed so happy and His bankers invited him to dinner parties and he attended curious about these people who seemed so happy and care free, And to get a glimpse of a world so foreign to him where everything was so clean and peaceful and free of hate,of course Inuyasha never danced,women who who behaved differently towards him too flirting with him and sending seductive sideline glances his way, then the prominent wealthy Onigumo Ashiro Decided Inuyasha would make good husband material for his 18 year old daughter Kikyo. Kikyo’s life had been different then Inuyashas he found himself entranced by her, She was always smiling always happy and it was obvious she was intrigued by Inuyasha whom her father brought home for dinner more and more. He knew she liked him but Inuyasha would never have proposed to the girl after all he had demon blood. How could he after seeing his mother and grandfather shot, Then Onigumo and his lovely daughter found out about Inuyashas background. he’ll never forget the look on Kikyos face the girl that always flirted with him was now afraid he would eat her, that had been two years ago.Inuyasha lifted his blood soaked hand from his side he was losing to much blood to fast the cabin was in sight now and none too soon.Inuyasha narrowed his eyes there was a light on someone was in the cabin. if he hadn't been hurt he would have turned away maybe it was one of the ranch hands it was much to soon for Sango and Miroku to be back. Inuyasha slid from his horses back slowly knowing it was important to keep his footing, He could have called out to whoever was in the cabin for help but he wouldn’t he would rather bleed to death then ask Miroku’s foreman for help, he paused against the heavy door falling inside he felt everything spin around him, the last thing he heard was a womens high pitched scream before he blacked out. Kagome stopped screaming the moment she realized that the man who burst through the door was in no condition to be of any danger to her, he had long silver hair his blood soaked shirt wrapped around his mid section was the last thing she noticed as he landed half in and half out of the cabin one look outside told her he was alone…. only one way to deal with you Kagome talked to the unconscious man who lay face down on the floor she reached down and grabbed him dragging him inside then she closed the door.You must be Inuyasha Sango described you perfectly, but she never said you were beautiful. kagome shook her head what am i saying men are not beautiful…but this one sure is. Inuyasha opend his eyes to find a women leaning over him washing his face with a cool cloth as though he might break if she pressed to hard, oh good your awake how do you feel?Inuyasha squinted and tried to see her face better but he couldn't no matter how hard he tried Like I’ve been shot,“It seems you were kagome said leaving his face alone for a moment, Do you think you can move?"I hate to leave you on the floor but i cant get you into bed by myself."Of course i can move.” Inuyasha said sharply what did she think that he was helpless? he rolled up slowly only to find out how hard it was and found a womans arm around his back as she lifted him gently, I don’t need any help…yes do you do.“ kagome insisted pleasantly half supporting him as he rose to his feet. you've lost a lot of blood and you’ll have to spend several days maybe weeks in bed,the bleeding has stopped but if it starts again you’ll be in a lot of trouble."Inuyasha looked down at his midsection the woman had bandaged him tightly with a length of calico dotted with pink flowers,…I know..but its all i could find, Inuyasha wanted to argue but he couldn't he was just to week…Come on yasha don’t give up on me now not unless you want to spend the night on the floor.Her use of his name caught his attention allowing him to stay alert as she led him to the bedroom,she studied his bloodstained pants for a moment and decided to leave them on him gently she covered him with a quilt and tucked him in as though he was a small child, he wanted to ask her who she was,where she had come from, if he could touch her hair it was all he had been able to see of her and it looked soft and warm but that could wait till tomorrow, he didn't have the strength to speak he knew even as he fell asleep she was watching him that should have Irritated him but it didn't It felt strangely right.