#My little child is made of wet paper towels…

[charadrxxmxrr]

CHARA DREEMURR

[ HEART STEALER ]

Candy Cane Dagger

red velvet armor 

CHARACTER SKILLS:

SLEIGHT OF GUMMY HAND: Every thief needs to know how to steal! With this knowledge you can easily sneak treats out of any distracted person’s cookie jar. It can be very useful in battle too, if the big boss you’re facing has an important item you’ll need to get through to the next level!

OOPS! ALL BEANS: On your utility belt, you’ll find a bag of magic jelly beans, with properties that will aid your adventure! This bundle of flavours all have different abilities– when thrown to the ground, the marshmallow bean creates a smoke bomb, obscuring your enemies vision and leaving you with a way to escape. The green apple bean creates a powder blast that can knock back your foes, while the lemon bean stuns and paralyzes anyone it hits. Last but not least is the spicy bean, that can melt the locks off of doors and treasure chests!

SUGAR GLASS: You’re so good at tricking people, you can even make them see things that aren’t really there! Of course, these illusions will be completely made out of candy, but they will let you conjure items, monsters, or even change your own appearance. The candy people might fall for it a little easier than your friends, however.. especially when you suddenly have a beard made out of sour belts.

GREAT LEAPING GUMMY FROGS!:You’ve trained all your life with the candy frogs to jump just like they do– a wise decision on your part! Leap to high places to avoid danger, pick up your party to soar across obstacles, or spring up high behind your enemy to deliver a crushing blow!

CHARACTER STATS:

STRENGTH:1

MAGIC:7

ENDURANCE:2

SPEED:10

[vigilante-3073]

Harm

Edward Cullen x Female Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Y/N has always had issues with physical contact and Edward never understood why until an accidental touch brings up unpleasant memories for her.

TW: Mentions of sexual assault, death and molestation, angst.

*Contains mature themes that could be triggering*

Y/N had always had an issue when it came to physical contact, she would shift away like any kind of unexpected touch made her squeamish. Edward had never questioned it, simply assuming that it had been a matter of personal preference. Physical contact had never been a big factor in their friendship and Edward found it easy to respect her boundaries.

Most people were willing to accept her dislike of physical touch, but there would always be people who didn't understand or respect her wishes.

They were walking down the hallway talking about their biology assignment when Emmett ran up behind Y/N and grabbed her waist. She let out a panicked scream as memories began to race through her mind. The memories were so powerful that Edward couldn't keep himself from hearing them.

"Here, munchkin, I got you a toy, but you can only have it if you promise not to tell anyone about our little game," The man said to a 5-year-old Y/N.

The sound of a belt buckle clinking and a sudden unyielding feeling of fear overcame everything.

"Such a good little girl," The man said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before leaving her bedroom.

The memories continued to fly by, each one more unpleasant than the last. It was years of torture, fear and abuse. Her emotions were overwhelming as the memories began to resurface, like a festering wound that never healed.

Emmett set her down on her feet and she immediately broke free of his hold, running down the hallway and into the girl's bathroom.

"The hell was that about?" Emmett asked.

Edward shook his head before quickly following after her. He pushed aside his discomfort and made his way into the women's restroom. Edward moved over to the stall where Y/N had fallen to her knees, coughing and retching as she threw up.

Edward held her hair back, providing silent comfort as she continued to get sick. The memories obviously weighed heavily enough on her to produce such a visceral response.

She finished getting sick before slowly shifting onto her butt, leaning back against the wall of the bathroom stall. Tears rolled down her cheeks as Edward reached past her and flushed the toilet. He stepped away and wet some paper towel for her before returning to her side.

He held out the paper towel to her and she took it silently, wiping her mouth. Edward watched her, listening to her erratic heartbeat as it began to return to normal.

"Who was it?" Edward asked, she gulped, "My uncle," Y/N admitted softly.

"How long?" Edward asked.

"Until I was twelve," She stated.

"Where is he now?" Edward questioned.

Y/N shrugged, "I don't know," She said, toying with the paper towel in her hands.

"Did you ever tell anyone?" Edward asked.

She shook her head, "No, I was-I was scared and I just- I felt like it was my fault," Y/N said shakily, more tears gathering in her eyes.

"You were a child," Edward said, kneeling down beside her.

Y/N scoffed, "I could have said something but I didn't... I thought that no one would believe me," Y/N said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"I'm sorry that you felt like you were alone in that, Y/N. No one should have to go through that," Edward said.

Touch had become an evil thing for her. That man, that family member, had taken her choice away and robbed her of her innocence. Y/N was just a child when he took advantage of her and it went on for years before she was able to escape him.

Y/N was abused and manipulated into thinking that no one would believe her. She endured years of pain and lived in a state of constant fear of this man who was supposed to be someone she could rely on.

He was family.

...

Edward took some time away from school after that day. He told Y/N that he was going to see his cousins, but he wasn't going to Alaska. Edward went to Y/N's hometown and found her uncle stumbling drunkenly out of a bar.

The stench of alcohol permeated the man's entire being as he staggered over to his truck. He fumbled for his keys in his pocket, dropping them down onto the pavement with a mumbled curse. The man bent down to pick them up and Edward had appeared in front of him when he straightened up.

"The hell do you want, kid?" The man asked.

"I'm a friend of Y/N's," Edward said.

"Oh, wow, I haven't seen her in years," The man chuckled.

"You mean that you haven't assaulted her in years?" Edward questioned, eerily calm.

The man scoffed, "Now, I don't know what she told you-," He started.

Edward didn't allow him to finish, grabbing onto his throat and slamming him back against the side of his vehicle. The metal caved in from the force, knocking the wind out of the man.

"I know all about what you did to her and you deserve to endure a lifetime of suffering for it," Edward growled, leaning closer to him and tightening his hold around the man's neck.

He sputtered, hands shoving desperately at Edward's chest to try and push him away.

Edward felt like an avenging angel in this moment, choking the life out of such a vile man. It brought him comfort to know that he would be removing a very evil person from the world.

Edward leaned in and bit into the side of the man's neck, shredding the arteries and spilling his blood in the parking lot brutally.

He pulled away, watching the life drain from the man's face, "You will never hurt her or anyone else ever again," Edward said before letting him go.

He watched the man's body slide down to the ground, gasping and gurgling on his own blood as he died. This man was a predator and he finally knew what it felt like to become the prey.

...

Edward returned to Forks a day later with red eyes, Carlisle knew what he had left to accomplish and chose not to acknowledge it. Even Carlisle had to allow him leniency in this case, violence was never the answer until it was the only answer available.

That man was sick and he deserved to suffer for what he had done to such a kind person, a child nonetheless. He could not be saved or changed and the world would be a better place without him in it.

Edward never told Y/N about what he had done that day, but he would never forget the day her mother had told her the news. They thought it was an animal attack, her mother called it 'gruesome' and 'awful.' She had said that the animal responsible hadn't been located, but assured Y/N that they were searching for it.

Edward watched the look of recognition cross Y/N's face before her glossy eyes slowly came to focus on him. She hung up the phone, dropping it down on her bed.

"What happened?" Edward asked.

"My uncle is dead... They said it was an animal attack," Y/N said.

"Seems to be happening a lot lately," Edward stated.

Y/N stepped over to him, sliding her arms around him and pressing herself against his chest. Edward slowly wrapped his arms around her, holding her gently.

"Thank you," She mumbled, a few warm tears soaking into his shirt.

"You're welcome," Edward said.

She let out a soft breath before her body began to shake with sobs. Y/N cried until she had nothing left in her, standing silently with her head on his chest and her arms wrapped tightly around him.

His shirt had been saturated with her tears and he could feel her beginning to shiver from the ice cold temperature of his body. Edward wanted to get her a blanket or a warm cup of tea, but he knew that she needed this. She needed to hold onto him and feel safe.

Edward had protected her more than anyone else had and Y/N finally allowed herself to enjoy the touch of another person. Y/N would never have to live in fear of that man again and maybe she would eventually be able to tell her family about what he did to her. And if she didn't, her secret would rot in the ground with her abuser.

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 8 | Parker in the Park

Chapter Eight | Parker in the Park

“Momma? Can I have this?” Amanda looked over on the kitchen counter where Parker, the three inch tall boy, was standing and saw he was currently holding a single M&M. Somehow, he had managed to climb the edge of the lunchbox Amanda had set aside and had made it back out with the single piece of candy.

It was humorous, seeing that it was half the size of his head, and Amanda marveled that he was able to get in and out of the lunchbox without getting himself hurt. He had been climbing a lot more recently, which set her nerves on edge. Amanda was determined to find a way to make his climbing a bit safer using rubber bands or safety lines. Something!

In the meantime, she would just have to watch him a little closer, which was hard. He was quick and quiet, unnaturally so for a child his age. He also had a natural instinct for finding tight, quiet places to hide. Amanda had to all but ban playing hide-and-seek after she couldn’t find him for nearly two hours just the week before.

Parker, thankfully, was thoughtful and listened well enough when he heard the rising distress in Amanda’s voice as she called for him to come out.

“Please, momma?” asked Parker again as he readjusted his grip on the slightly melty chocolate candy in his hands. Amanda was brought back to the present and knelt to be at Parker’s eye-level. It was something she read in a parenting book once, and it often worked well.

“Parker, we are getting ready to have lunch. I don’t want you to spoil your appetite, but you can have a tiny piece on the way if you sit by the lunchbox patiently,” said Amanda. She knew waiting was hard for the toddler, but it was more about the exercise and less about ruining his lunch. Waiting and listening were essential skills and Amanda wanted to practice with him now.

“Okay,” smiled Parker as he toddled over to the lunchbox and sat down, keeping the candy in his lap and tapping the top as if it were a massive drum. Amanda knew this might not last long and quickly grabbed the rest of the things they would need including a few thick blankets for the ground, the books they were reading, a couple of toys, and a few little blankets in case Parker wanted to take a nap outside.

Amanda decided that it might be nice to take Parker outside instead of having him cooped up in the house. Childhood was about adventures, even when the child was barely the size of her thumb. There was a different park with trees and a little stream that Amanda found online, and it was barely a five minute walk away.

It would be a little risk, but a lot of kids were still in school for the day and Amanda thought it would be nice to get out of the apartment. She had taken two hours for lunch, taking off the necessary time, and was going to make the most of it with her adopted son.

Besides, he listened well, and Amanda would be paying close attention to him at all times.

Amanda packed her backpack, making sure the strap wouldn’t pinch her front pocket, and went back to the kitchen to find Parker still sitting in the place she left him. He was still playing the piece of chocolate like a drum and, predictably, it had melted slightly and dyed his hands blue. He looked up at her and smiled broadly as he wiggled his shoulders in a “happy dance.” He knew he had done well and was ready for his reward.

“Thank you so much for waiting, Parker. You’re such a good listener,” praised Amanda. Rather than reply, he pushed the M&M toward her and beamed, his eyes eager for his prize. Amanda fulfilled her end of the bargain by chopping up the piece of candy into more manageable pieces and giving Parker two of the small fragments. He gripped the pieces with his blue fingers and began eating immediately.

Amanda took the opportunity to secure the lunchbox to her backpack before snagging a few paper towels, wetting them in the sink, and shoving them into the edge of her pack.

“Ready to go?” asked Amanda now that she was fully prepared. Parker considered the question before nodding, stepping up to Amanda’s extended hand and climbing on. Amanda couldn’t help but still feel in awe that only a few months ago he was shying away from her hand and trembling if she moved too quickly. Now, it was almost as if this was how it had always been between them.

Just her and Parker.

Amanda lifted her hand from the counter and readjusted her shirt one more before asking, “Do you want to go for a pocket ride?” Parker’s soft brown eyes gleamed eagerly as he nodded. It was one of his favorite pass times, mostly because he liked being close to Amanda. His separation anxiety from her was getting better, but it was still a challenge when Amanda didn’t respond fast enough to his calls for her.

Amanda wanted him to know he could call, and she would always come, but being dependent on those feelings was not good. The adoptive human mother, however, didn’t mind bringing him along wherever she went. She liked having him nearby and listening to his questions and random stories.

She lifted her hand and held it flush with her pocket. Parker, knowing what came next, scooched over to the edge of Amanda’s hand and slipped his feet into her shallow pocket before falling right on in. His mess of light sandy brown hair poked out from the top as he stood as tall as he could to watch where they were going.

“Let’s go!” Parker cheered as he threw his sticky, chocolate covered hands into the air.

This pocket is going to need a wash Amanda thought as she gave Parker a little tap on the top of his head and left through the front door.

“Now, remember our game? Sneak and Peak? If I say sneak, what do you do?” asked Amanda as she locked the door behind her. Parker, who wasn’t listening as he was too focused on the chocolate fragment still on his hand, started humming to himself. Patiently, Amanda waited before asking the question again. “Parker? Remember your listening? What do you do if I say sneak?”

Parker’s eyes gleamed in recognition as he giggled and crouched down in Amanda’s pocket, hunkering down in the bottom and holding very still.

“Good job!” Amanda praised. “And what do you do when I say peak?”

Parker was quicker on the draw this time and stood, jostling the pocket as he fought the fabric for a good grip. His little head poked out from the top of the pocket once more as he looked up at Amanda.

“Good!” smiled Amanda. She clapped a few times which prompted Parker to start clapping and repeating, “good, good, good, good,” over and over.

She loved how talkative Parker was. It was almost hard to believe he was practically mute for the whole first month she knew him. It was understandable, given the circumstances, but there was nothing like hearing his sweet voice talk to her and ask her about the world around him.

It was a feeling Amanda knew she would cherish forever, just as she would cherish their games and little moments, which is what they were doing now.

Amanda continued playing the Sneak and Peak game as she walked down the sidewalk, across the road, and along the path until she saw the signs for the park she was headed toward. Amanda had a particular spot she was looking for and keeping the mind of a child from becoming impatient was the goal. So, it did. The game kept Parker occupied all the way until Amanda found a nice little place in the shade by a creek far enough away from trails or any potential people walking nearby.

It was perfect. There was shade and sun as well as dozens of things Parker could see and ask about. He had such a curious mind. This was the perfect place.

“Alright, Parker. Sneak, and no peaking,” said Amanda as she set down her pack and began setting up the area. It was going to be a fun surprise for the child; at least, Amanda hoped it would be something Parker enjoyed.

The blanket and towels made a kind of sanctuary on the ground. She set up the lunchbox and pulled out the books and a few little games that Parker usually enjoyed in a nice little area near the middle of their area. With everything ready, Amanda tapped the top of her pocket and knelt.

“Okay, Parker. Peak,” Amanda instructed. Parker giggled as he grasped the top of Amanda’s pocket and jumped up, soft brown eyes peering up at her as he smiled.

“Boo!” he exclaimed as he giggled, his whole body wiggling excitedly like an overstimulated puppy.

“Oh goodness, you’re so spooky,” chuckled Amanda as she pointed to their picnic. “Parker, look. What do you see?”

The child’s eyes pulled away from Amanda to the scene below him. He was still for a moment as he looked down and out. His silence almost indicated confusion, but seeing his toys and food laid out quickly processed in his mind.

“What’s that?” he asked, his arm wrenching over the top of the pocket so he could point.

“It’s a picnic,” explained Amanda.

“Picnic?” Parker asked.

“Yes, a picnic,” Amanda repeated.

“What’s that?” echoed Parker.

“A picnic is when you eat and play games outside,” said Amanda as she reached toward her pocket. “Want to see?”

Parker nodded and, with little help, managed to climb out of the pocket and onto Amanda’s hand. Setting him on the blanket was a bit of a trick, seeing that the uneven and slightly unstable surface of the blanket seemed to make the miniscule child uneasy. It was the grass underneath that made the blanket a bit difficult to walk across, which was something Amanda hadn’t considered. She thought the blanket would make it easier for Parker to walk across, but elements actually seemed like a trampoline for Parker, giving way under his step and springing back when his entire weight wasn’t on it.

Still, it didn’t seem like he would be deterred for very long. It took only five minutes for Parker to understand how to move across this new terrain and, soon after, he started running and bouncing across the trickier parts of the blanket. It was like his own personal game.

“Momma? What’s that?” asked Parker as he pointed to anything and everything around them.

“That’s grass. It grows inside and outside from little seeds,” Amanda explained. She handed him a single blade and let him flip it around in his hands.

“It’s rough,” he muttered as he pinched it in his fingers. Amanda hadn’t really thought about the texture of grass before. To her, it had always been soft. You could cut yourself on the edges, sure, just like a piece of paper. Amanda then thought about Parker’s perspective and all of the things he saw with him being so much smaller.

His evaluation of the world wasn’t inaccurate, just different.

“Yes, it is a little rough,” said Amanda. “Just like this rock.” Amanda reached over by the creek and pulled a pebble from the edge that was more like a piece of gravel. She set it down in front of Parker, who crouched and rubbed his little fingers across the surface.

“Rough and smooth. Rough and smooth,” Parker repeated as he touched the rock and then touched the blanket. He flopped down on his bum as he continued examining the grass blade. “Momma? What’s that?” The child pointed at the tree currently shading them.

Patiently, Amanda explained everything around them over the next hour. She talked about the trees and the leaves and the grass and rocks. She talked about the creek and how the water helped smooth the stones.

Satisfied with her answers, Parker eventually stopped asking so many questions and simply listened to Amanda as she read some of the books she brought while he chewed on his sandwich and chips. He played with his toys and asked questions from time to time about the book Amanda read to him.

Like a little sponge, he absorbed all of her words and drank in every little answer she gave. It was mesmerizing watching him learn. They finished the first book and then the second and third. They were simple picture books, but it was still no accomplishment to be dismissed.

It was when Amanda continued reading part of The Hobbit that she had started with Parker during that storm that she realized Parker hadn’t asked any questions in a short while. She had been so enthralled in reading aloud to him and enjoying the day that his lack of questions hadn’t crossed her mind as unusual.

Amanda placed her thumb on the paragraph she was reading from and glanced away from the page to the spot where she expected Parker to be – but he wasn’t there.

Amanda’s breath caught somewhere in her lungs and in her throat. She had to force air in her lungs as she tried rationalizing where Parker was. Maybe he had gone back to the bag of chips? Maybe he went over to get his piece of candy from the lunchbox?

Amanda was careful when she pushed herself up so that she didn’t accidentally crush or hurt Parker and scanned the ground for her adopted son. Despite her efforts, Amanda couldn’t see Parker anywhere. He wasn’t by the lunchbox, and he wasn’t anywhere on the blanket.

Every moment that passed made Amanda’s heart race faster. Her mouth was dry. She felt her hands starting to shake. She abandoned the book, head whipping from side to side, as she searched the ground.

“Parker? Parker!” Amanda called as she carefully maneuvered around to see behind her and beside her. Still nothing. Amanda feared for a moment that he might be trying to play Sneak and Peak on his own without telling her. It had only happened one other time, but she was grasping for straws at this point.

“Parker, peak. It’s time to peak,” called Amanda as she tried to choke down the rising panic in her throat. She felt her whole body shaking as she failed to find him.

How could this have happened? He was right there! He was right there with me the whole time! How did he get away from me so quickly?

Amanda felt tears welling up in her eyes when she heard the smallest “oooff” sound. Her eyes immediately fell to the corner of the blanket by her feet, which was closest to the creek, and spotted Parker.

He was climbing back onto the blanket with something in his hands. There was a big smile on the child’s face as he toddled across the uneven surface back toward his spot on the blanket near Amanda’s shoulder.

Amanda choked back a sob of relief as she leaned over and scooped up the child, bringing him close to her face.

“Parker! Where were you? Where did you go? Do you know what could have happened if I couldn’t find you? What would have happened if you fell in the water? What would have happened if you got lost? You could have been really hurt, Parker. Do you know that?” asked Amanda. Her whole body was shaking. Parker’s bright eyes, which were filled with confusion, turned to sadness as he read her facial expression. He had no words and only a soft whimper escaped him as he held whatever it was he found closer to his chest. Tears started dripping down his cheeks.

She didn’t want to scare the child, but he needed to know it wasn’t okay to just wander off. She took a few deep breaths and carefully brushed Parker’s back with her thumbs, keeping him cupped in her hands carefully so he didn’t get scared. The last thing she wanted was to make him scared of being held or being near her, even if he was in trouble.

“Parker, I’m not mad. I was just scared. Okay? Momma was scared. I didn’t know where you went,” reassured Amanda. She rubbed his shoulders as Parker whimpered a little and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

He took a few deep breaths and sniffed pitifully.

“Parker, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just scared. I couldn’t find you. You shouldn’t wander off on your own, okay? It’s dangerous to go somewhere without telling me,” said Amanda.

It took a few minutes to help calm down the toddler, but eventually his breathing resumed normally except for the occasional sniffle. Guilt plagued Amanda. She was worried that she had spoiled a perfectly good day by scolding him for running off on his own.

To help turn it around, she nodded toward the thing in Parker’s arms and asked, “What did you find?”

Parker took a few deep breaths and held out the thing he found.

It was the top of an acorn with the stem still attached. It was about as big as Parker’s torso, but he didn’t seem to be having a hard time carrying it. It was such a sweet, innocent sight. He probably didn’t go too far to retrieve it, but that wasn’t the point. He had left and Amanda couldn’t find him. Any child vanishing would have sent any parent into a panic, but Amanda felt this feeling amplified ten fold because of Parker being so little. He was already so small and helpless.

Still, Amanda would find a solution for this later. For now, she wanted to make sure their day ended pleasantly. Her break was almost over after all.

“Oh? You found an acorn cap?” asked Amanda. She felt herself suck in another breath as she breathed calmly. “Is it rough or smooth?”

Parker ran his fingers over the top of the acorn and mumbled, “Rough.”

“Rough? Yes. It is rough. Rough and bumpy,” confirmed Amanda. Parker muttered “bumpy” over and over. Then, inspired by childish creativity, Parker raised the acorn to his head and placed it on top like a hat. He smiled bashfully up at Amanda, which made her laugh.

“Yes, that makes a wonderful hat,” Amanda chuckled.

“Cap hat. Cap hat,” said Parker. The tense atmosphere dissipated and, just like before, all felt good and wonderful; and just in time too. The alarm on Amanda’s watch went off, signaling the end of her lunch break.

“Okay, Parker. It’s time to go home. Ready to go?” Parker nodded in response to Amanda’s question and slipped into her pocket without issue. As Amanda packed up, Parker began repeating, “Sneak and Peak. Sneak and Peak,” while bouncing up and down in her pocket.

“Yes, sweetheart. Sneak and Peak. Ready?”

The adventure home was uneventful, and the game went flawlessly.

However, in the back of Amanda’s mind, she worried that she couldn’t go and do an activity like this again with Parker out of sheer worry that she would lose him. Her mind was already reeling with possibilities of how to keep him safe while letting him experience things like a normal child.

There was a solution. She just had to find it.

Until then, perhaps they would just have picnics inside.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Beginning

[winchesterwild78]

Chance Meeting pt 19

Master list

18+ Minors DO NOT interact

Please be kind and all mistakes are my own. All work is mine. Please don’t take or copy it.

Warnings: Angst, heart break, physical assault, SMUT

A/N: This chapter is another ride. Stay with it. I promise happiness is on the way. It’s also a bit of a roller coaster. I haven’t mentioned the kids names or his ex for a reason. This is fiction and I don’t want any disrespect towards Jensen’s family. I adore him and this is just fiction. However, because he’s older it made sense for him to be divorced and with children. I edited this quickly, so please overlook any errors.

———————————————————————

*Time Jump 5 Days*

You sat beside Jensen nervously with your leg bouncing. Jensen placed his hand on your leg trying to calm you down. You looked at him and he gave you a soft smile. His attorney was looking over some things and the three of you were trying to figure out how to deal with the current situation with Ashley and the baby. “So Jensen, you said you didn’t sleep with her but you did wake up in bed with her, right” his attorney asked. You felt sick to your stomach thinking about it. Jensen looked over at you and then said “yes” softly. “Okay, so we need to petition for a DNA test to see if the baby is yours. I believe we can push to have an amniocentesis done and DNA extracted that way. We should have the results soon” he said typing away.

You tensed up and Jensen felt it. He looked over at you and you were fighting tears back. “You okay baby” Jensen asked leaning over. You shook your head no. You stood, cleared your throat and excused yourself. You went to the bathroom and went into a stall. You covered your mouth and let out a sob. The idea of this child being his broke your heart. You knew if he did sleep with her it was before you met, but it still hurt. Even though he said he didn’t remember it, it still hurt. You tried to compose yourself but it took a few minutes. Your cell phone went off, it was a text from Jensen.

J: you sure you’re okay baby. We can leave if you want to.

Me: No, I’m fine. I just needed a minute. You keep talking. I’ll be back soon.

J: Okay. I love you. ❤️

You let out a soft sob

Me: I love you too, Jensen. So much.

You finally got yourself together and walked to the sink. You heard the bathroom door open and a woman say hello. You didn’t look up but said hello back. You took some paper towels and wet them, washing your face.

The woman walked up to the sink and stood there for a minute. You started to walk away and she said “hello y/n” and you spun on your heels. You looked at her and knew it was Ashley. “Are you enjoying your time with my future husband” she said as she stepped closer to you. “I saw his cute little post. Isn’t that sweet. He felt guilty and asked you to marry him. Don’t worry once he realizes he wants to be with me and our baby you will be yesterday’s news.” She said as she stepped even closer to you.

You took a step back. You saw her pregnant belly and your heart broke a little more. She really is pregnant you thought to yourself. “Jensen doesn’t love you and if that baby is his then he will step up, but as far as Jensen and I we are solid and nothing is going to change that. We are getting married and there is nothing you can do about it.” You said as you walked towards the door. Just as your hand was on the handle you felt something hard hit you and your head hurt. Then everything went black.

You woke up to the sounds of steady beeping. You felt a hand on yours and your head hurt really bad. Your eyes fluttered open and you saw Jensen sitting beside you. “Hey babe” you said in a weak voice. Jensen’s eyes looked over at you and went wide. “Oh my god, y/n. You’re awake. Let me get the doctor” he said standing up. Before you could say anything else he was out the door. You waited until Jensen returned with a doctor and a nurse. “Hello Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr Roberts. How are you feeling” the middle aged man said stepping towards you. “I’m okay. My head hurts bad and I’m really tired” you said. The doctor took some vitals and the nurse checked your IV and drew some blood.

“Well you took quite a bump on the head. I’d be surprised if it didn’t hurt. You’ve got a concussion and a big knot on your head. I want to keep you another night and we will see how you’re doing tomorrow.” The doctor said before giving you a soft smile. “Wait, how long have I bet out” you asked. “Almost 4 days” Jensen said. You looked at him with wide eyes. You whispered “oh wow”.

The doctor and the nurse left and Jensen took your hand. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Jensen, have you slept” you asked him rubbing his hand. “Not really, I couldn’t leave your side. I’m so sorry this happened to you” Jensen said with tears in his eyes. “It’s not your fault, Jensen.” You said looking at him. “Please tell me she’s been arrested or something. I don’t even know what happened for sure. I just know she was in the bathroom and we had a little back and forth about you and the next thing I know I’m waking up here. What the hell did she hit me with” you asked him.

Jensen’s face dropped and he whispered out “a metal pipe”. Well that explains why I have a headache you thought. “Was Ashley caught” you asked. He shook his head no. “I’m so sorry baby. When you were gone for as long as you were and not responding to my texts we went to the bathroom and found you on the floor in a puddle of blood. I was terrified I lost you. There is a warrant out for her. They lifted her prints off the pipe and there is surveillance footage showing her entering and exiting the bathroom. You and her were the only ones on the video going into the bathroom. I’ve called Clif and he’s gonna hang around for a while until we can make sure you’re safe. He said hugging you.

“Jensen how can this woman do this? If you broke it off why is she still so convinced you’re hers and the baby is too.” You asked choking back tears. “She’s just obsessed and needs professional help. If the baby is mine we will figure it out. Until then I want you to rest. Don’t stress and don’t think about her or the baby” he said kissing your head.

Your head was spinning with all the thoughts of Ashley, the attack, Jensen possibly being the father of the baby, how his kids would react to a new baby, if you’re still going to get married if the baby is his. Ugh! Your head wouldn’t stop. The only sound in the room was the steady beeping of the machine. You could feel the tension and you just wanted to cry. You pushed the call button and the nurse came in. “Yes ma’am, how can I help you” she said with a soft smile. “Um my head really hurts is there anything I can take for it” you asked not looking at Jensen. “Yeah, I’ll go grab it and be right back” she said and she left.

Jensen looked at you and said “baby, everything is going to be okay. I promise” he kissed your hand. The nurse came back and you took some medicine. When she left you looked at Jensen and said “you can’t promise that. I thought I would have been safe in an attorney’s office, but somehow I was attacked. I love you, but I’m scared. She won’t stop until I’m out of the picture.” You said as the tears broke loose. He reached for you but you turned over. Sobbing you asked him to leave. You wanted nothing more than for him to stay, but your heart was breaking and you were scared for you and anyone who loved him. You loved him so much but how could you compete with the baby if it’s his. You would never make him choose between you and his children. He’s an amazing father and he would be to this child. If you’re in the picture she might not let him see the baby or she would stop at nothing to drive a wedge between you two. Or worse, she might get you out of the picture permanently.

You heard the door shut and you just cried. The medicine finally kicked in and you fell asleep. When you woke up it was dark out. There was a soft light coming in from under the door and the television was on. You rolled over and reached for the light. Your heart was hoping Jensen would be there when you woke up but you knew he would give you space.

You grabbed your phone to send him a text. Picking up your phone you noticed you had a few missed texts. A few were people texting to check on, a few were from Jensen, and then there was two that made your blood run cold. It was Ashley.

Ashley: I told you he was mine. That was just a taste of what I’m going to do if you don’t leave him

Ashley: *picture* (it was a picture of Jensen leaving the hospital. He looked like he was crying.) Why is he so upset. Maybe I’ll follow him and make it all better. I can’t wait to feel his arms around me again.

You felt sick. The picture of Jensen had to have been taken after you told him to leave.

You: Jens, baby I’m sorry. Please call me when you get this. I love you.

You looked at the time. It was a little after 11pm. He shouldn’t be asleep. You waited for a text or phone call. Nothing. You started to get worried. You sent another text.

Me: Babe, please answer me. You don’t have to call me but please just tell me you’re okay. I got another text from her and I’m scared for you.

Still nothing. You tried to call but he didn’t answer. You texted Gen and Jared and asked one of them to call you. Gen called you right away. “Y/N is everything okay” she asked. “No, I got a threatening text from Ashley and Jensen isn’t answering my texts or calls. I’m really worried.” You started crying. “I told him to leave Gen. I’m so scared someone is going to get hurt because of my relationship with him. I was trying to keep him safe.” You said through sobs. Jared grabbed his keys and took off towards your’s and Jensen’s house. Gen told you she’d stay on the phone with you until we heard back from Jared.

You talked to her about your fears and she did her best to calm you down. “I’m sure he’s okay, y/n. When he spilt with his ex we found him passed out cold many nights. I’m sure that is what’s going on.” She said reassuring you. About 20 minutes later you heard Jared in the background. Gen told you Jensen was fine and Jared brought him back to their house. He had been drinking but he wasn’t passed out he just didn’t take his phone outside with him.

You finally let out the breath you had been holding. “Okay. Thank you, Gen. Please tell Jared thank you too, and tell Jensen I love him and I will talk to him tomorrow.” You said She told Jensen you said you loved him and you heard him giggle and say “hey guys I’m gonna marry her. Shhh don’t tell her” You smiled and told Gen thank you again and hung up.

At least he was safe and you could rest a little easier. Your mind kept playing what he said over and over again. He wanted YOU and he wanted to marry you. He LOVED you, not her. Even if the baby was his you two would figure it out. You decided she was not going to win. Jensen loved you, you loved him and the two of you were going to get married. He had room in his heart for you and all of his children. You two were going to be fine.

The next morning when you woke up Jensen was sitting beside you. As soon as you saw him you let out a sob. “I’m so sorry Jensen. I was scared and thought I was protecting everyone. I know we are better together and we will figure this out. I love you so much.” Jensen stood up and wrapped his arms around you. Kissing the top of your head trying to calm you down. “I know baby. I was hurt but I know why you did it. I’m sorry you got hurt because of me. I love you and I can’t wait to marry you. We will tackle whatever comes our way together.” Then he kissed your lips.

A few minutes later the doctor came in and said you were good to go home but you needed to rest and take care of yourself. Since you have a concussion there were certain things you couldn’t do according to the paper. Jensen looked over at you and looked at the doctor. “I’ll make sure she’s taken care of Doc. So what about sex, can she have sex” Jensen asked smirking at you. You turned red. The doctor chuckled and said yes as long as there weren’t any acrobatics involved. Jensen said “well, I guess I can resist acrobatics for now”. You playfully slapped hit arm and he kissed you.

The doctor left and Jensen helped you get up and get dressed. Once you were ready he helped you out of the hospital and into his car. When he got in the drivers seat he took your hand and kissed it. “I’m so glad you’re okay baby and you’re coming home. We’ve missed you so much.” Jensen said looking at you.

“Oh Jens, I’ve missed all of you too. How are the kids doing” you asked. “They are okay. They’ve missed you and can’t wait to see you. We told them that you got hurt by a bad person but were going to be okay. Little man was really upset. He cried for almost an hour. It was heartbreaking but in a weird way made my heart melt to see how much he loves you.” Jensen said. “Oh poor little guy. I hope he knows how much I love him too. I love all of you very much.” You said giving a soft smile to him.

When you finally arrived home Jensen helped you into the house. You went upstairs to o your room and decided to take a shower. Jensen was walking in your shared room and saw you getting undressed. “Need any help sweetheart” he asked with a grin. “I don’t know Mr Ackles. Are you talking about my clothes or something else” you said with a smirk and a wink. Jensen growled and attacked your lips.

You got undressed and so did Jensen. He helped you in the shower and he stepped in. You leaned back standing under the falling water. Jensen moved in close and put his arms around you. You missed his touch. You missed his lips, and everything about him. He kissed your lips and started kissing a line across your cheek, down your jaw, onto your neck. A shiver ran through your body at the touch of his lips. He kissed down to your breasts and one of his hands cupped the breast not currently being teased by his tongue. You moaned and called his name.

Your hands were running over his body and you found your way to his hardening cock. When you took it in your hand Jensen moaned.

Jensen spun you around and gently pinned you to the wall. His hand finding your folds and running in between your folds. His hand was met with a dripping wet pussy. “Damn baby you’re ready for me” he said into your mouth as his lips ghosted over yours. You moaned and nodded your head yes. He started to rub your clit and as he rubbed his fingers pushed inside. You gasped and moaned as you felt your core tightening and your release building. You knew it wouldn’t take long because it had been awhile since he touched you. He could feel you getting closer and helped push you over the edge. As you came he crashed his lips to yours helping you ride out your release.

Jensen turned off the water and grabbed the towels. You both dried off quickly and he led you to the bed. He gently laid you down and positioned himself between your legs. “You okay with this sweetheart” he asked leaning down to kiss you. You nodded your head. He took his length in his hand and lined himself up. He pushed in slowly letting you get used to his size. You gripped his biceps and moved your hips a little. His size and girth took your breath away. It was a pain and pleasure you craved. You looked at him and said “move baby”. He nodded and with one thrust he bottomed out. You gasped as he set a steady pace.

You knew he wasn’t going to last as long as he normally did because it had been awhile for him too. You wrapped your legs around him and pulled him closer. He leaned down capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You could feel his thrusts getting sloppier and you knew he was close. “Cum for me Jensen” you whispered into his ear. That was all it took before he was coating your walls with his warm seed. As he softened he kissed you and got up to get a washcloth to clean you up. He returned and cleaned you gently and once he was clean he crawled in bed with you.

He put his arms around you and pulled you close. “I’ve missed this baby, and I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you’re safe and home” Jensen said kissing you gently. You smiled and snuggled in his arms. “I’ve missed this too and I’m glad I’m home. I love you, Jensen” you said kissing him. “I love you too, y/n. Now, one last thing.” He said sitting up. He opened the bedside table and pulled out something. Tears filled your eyes when you saw it. “I had to bring this home when you were in the hospital. Every night I would hold it and pray you would get to have it again. I’m thankful I can give it back to you.” Jensen took your hand and slid your engagement ring back on your finger. A tear slipped down your face as you looked at it. You were glad to have it back, but you were more glad to be back in Jensen’s arms.

Forever tags: @nescaveckdaily @nescaveckwriter @kr804573 @jensengirl83 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373

[shiftsandgiggles999]

A (somewhat) canonical retelling of Emma Bloom’s backstory with a few small renditions of my own choosing (:

“Hurry up Julia! Mother will be cross if we’re late for supper.” 10 year old Emma Bloom chastised her 6 year old younger sister, the pair marching swiftly down the cobblestone alleyway to their home.

“Yeah, yeah. You know mother will be cross no matter when we come back.” Julia grumbled in return, stooping down to pet yet another skinny, grimy alley cat. Emma let out a puff of air, knowing the other girl was right. Their mother was always finding reasons to be aggravated with the girls whether those reasons were just or not.

The duo trundled on, schoolbooks in Julia’s arms, a fish for supper in Emma’s, the elder glaring daggers at passersby who dared risk so much as a glance towards her or her younger sister. The Bloom family did not live in the nicest part of Cornwall, England that was for sure. It wasn’t the slums but it wasn’t far off in Emma’s humble opinion. The walk through the alleyway was dark and dank, even in the middle of the day, and there wasn’t a street corner in England that wasn’t occupied by at least a few unsavory types. At least that’s what her mother said any time she was forced to leave the house.

Even at the ripe age of 10 Emma understood what people, strange men especially, were capable of and the older girl took care to keep an eye on Julia for as much as they quarreled, they were still siblings after all, she did not want the younger girl to know such horrors of the world so soon.

“Do you think mum made the biscuits she said she would this morning?” The 6 year old jogged to catch up, hope filling her big green eyes. The siblings were practically identical with their sandy blonde locks, pale skin, and the most striking green eyes anyone had ever seen. The 2 little girls were undoubtedly beautiful, and that was unfortunately one of the most dangerous things a girl could be.

“Maybe.” Emma mumbled in reply, knowing she hadn’t. Their mother was always happy to see the girls go in the morning and get out of her hair but as soon as they returned Mary Bloom could be found in yet another foul mood having forgotten whatever empty promise she had made her daughters this time. The girls’ father, Michael Bloom, labored at a factory job up to 11 hours a day depending on the week and the unemployment rate, and was simply too exhausted and frustrated upon his return home to care about the welfare of his 2 children, preferring to leave the child rearing to the women folk.

“I suppose it’s fish stew again for supper?” Julia wrinkled her nose in disgust. She hated fish stew. They both did and they were quite certain their parents did as well. But, it was cheap and it was better than cabbage soup, another staple meal in their home.

“Yes. But the fishmonger overcharged us last time and made up the difference today so I had a little extra left over that mother needn’t know about.” Emma gave her sister a sly smirk and the 6 year old’s face lit up like Christmas had come early this year.

“Sherbet fountain?”

“One for each of us after supper.” Emma chuckled at the younger girl’s squeal of delight at the prospect of candy.

Entering their quaint little apartment home the pair took care to wipe the mud from their feet and leave their boots by the door lest they track in dirt and stomp around like elephants according to their mother. As Julia went off to leave her school things in the girls shared bedroom Emma headed into the kitchen to deposit the paper wrapped fish.

“Took the 2 of you long enough. That fish will have gone off by the time you’re done lallygagging about.” Mary Bloom snipped as she stomped her way through the miniature kitchen, drying her hands on a wet towel and loudly slamming the stew pot down on the stove.

“Apologies mother. We’ll be quicker tomorrow.” Emma had fast learned to just tell her mother what she wanted to hear and let the insults roll off her back no matter how much she ached to throw her own right back. Instead, she bit her tongue and busied her hands deboning the fish, willing herself not to earn a slap tonight. She couldn’t very well share sweets with Julia is she was cowering beneath her father’s belt.

Mary shot a disgruntled look at her daughter’s back, wanting her to take the bait and bite back effectively starting an argument and giving her a reason to take out her frustration on the younger girl. Nevertheless, Emma kept her temper in check, surprisingly enough as she was well known for her hot headedness, and got on with her supper duties as Julia started her homework in their bedroom.

Emma was in school as well but as the eldest child of a low income household she often had other duties to uphold at home that kept her from her studies. That being said she wasn’t stupid. Emma Bloom was actually rather intelligent considering both her age and unfortunate upbringing. Despite her limited time in the classroom she rather enjoyed school and learning new things, even if the teachers were boring and older than dirt and the actions of the other children frequently caused her to end up with sore knuckles and her own ruler crudely marked with her name.

Once she understood the letters reading and writing came naturally. Arithmetic was… less of a strong suit but Emma still tried. Julia struggled more with school and throughly disliked it but there wasn’t much else a 6 year old girl was good for.

Just as Mary and Emma were finishing up supper Michael Bloom found his way home and into his chair at the head of the table without a word to any of his family. Julia came skipping eagerly in a moment later, powder blue dress swishing about her knees and a great big smile on her chubby baby face.

“Mother did you make the biscuits you talked about this morning?” The little girl asked hopefully, bouncing on her heels.

“No. Perhaps if the 2 of you had been back on time then I would have gotten around to it.” Emma knew this wasn’t true of course and didn’t make a lick of sense either. Her mother had plenty of down time while Julia was in school and Emma was either in school herself or running errands at their mother’s request. Nonetheless, Mary’s snide remark left Julia unphased, the younger girl suppressing a grin when her older sister winked at her and hid a little smile of her own, the exchange going unnoticed by their parents.

Dinner mostly consisted of Mary attempting to engage Michael in small talk about how each of their day’s had been and Michael simply grunting as a response to anything she said. The girls kept silent, making pointed glances at each other every time their mother said something very unladylike about a neighbor and trying very hard not to gag on the spice less, watery stew.

“Could we go to the beach on Saturday father?” Julia piped up, feet swinging eagerly underneath the table.

“It’s meant to rain on Saturday.” Michael responded dismissively, never even bothering to look up from chewing the leathery fish chunks.

“Even better. More puddles to jump in and the waves always look so big when it rains.”

“We’ll all catch our death out in that. You especially jumping around in the water or getting swept away in a rip tide.” Mary joined in, siding with her husband as normal.

“I have to collect the eggs and the milk from the grocer’s on Saturday. She could come with me and we could take the long way around through the cove on the walk back.” Emma suggested, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly and hoping to appease both her parents and younger sister.

“Fine. But you are responsible for her Emma. If she comes back and gets us all ill or gets swept into the current it’s on you. You hear me?” Mary raved, pointing a long, crooked finger in her eldest daughter’s face. Emma nodded, sneaking a wink at Julia who could barely contain her excitement. Who knew what kind of mischief the pair could get into with an entire afternoon devoid of adult supervision.

After supper Michael Bloom retired to the sitting area to read the daily newspaper and nurse a cup of cheap brandy. The girls scurried off to their room after finishing their kitchen duties, excited by the prospect of a rare candy treat. It wasn’t often they had anything sweet in the house, much less store bought candy that they could not afford.

Sherbert Fountains were still on the cheaper side but neither girl cared, savoring the sweet, sour, lip puckering taste of the treat as they sat facing each other on their respective beds giggling and dusting the lemon flavored powder all across the bedsheets.

“Perhaps Saturday we can go by that little sweets shop by the school. It’s always so crowded when we’re out of class. It’ll be easy to knick something.” Emma smirked wickedly, licking the sticky candy from her lips.

“Emma! That’s naughty!” Julia gasped, giggling even harder. “Do you think they have chocolate?” The other girl may pretend to be the well behaved one of the pair but in reality she was just as mischievous as her older counterpart. Emma grinned and assured her they did in fact have a plentiful supply of the younger girl’s all time favorite treat.

“Now, you’ve had your sweets. Go and brush your teeth so that they don’t rot out of your head.” Emma took both empty wrappers and stuffed them into a drawer to dispose of later in a trash can far, far away from the house.

“Ugh. You’re not mum Emma. You can’t always boss me around.” Julia pouted.

“Well by all means let them fall out. You’ll never be able to eat sweets again. It’ll be mash and prunes for the rest of your life.” That and a look that rivaled their uptight mother’s when the girls were misbehaving were enough to get Julia moving, albeit grumbling about nasty prunes as she went.

* * *

She was trapped. There was nowhere to go that the flames did not lick at her clothes, her skin, her hair, anything their devilish fingers could cling to they did. It was her own home she found herself trapped in, every door and window barred by the hellish fire quickly consuming everything in its path.

The wooden panels groaned overhead and the walls crashed in around her as the fire moved ever closer to the little girl trapped in the center of it all. Emma was scared, so scared that all she could do was cower on the floor with her head buried in her knees and cry as the overwhelming heat kept creeping closer, growing hotter as the seconds passed, scorching her soft skin.

A loud, piercing scream filled her head and shook the house around her, ripping her awake but not out of the nightmare, the blazing heat still surrounding her on all sides and the bright orange flames dancing around her body casting harsh shadows across the darkened room. The scream had come from Julia who had been awoken by the immense heat and acrid scent of burning wool to the sight of a raging fire engulfing her sister’s bed with her still in it.

For a long moment Emma was too shocked to move, her breaths coming fast and ragged as she stared blankly at the ceiling. However, as soon as she was lucid enough to register what was happening the older girl leapt from the bed and raced to the other side of the room where Julia was crouched, sobbing. Their parents raced into the room at the sound of the girls’ distress, Mary gathering them both into her arms and ushering them into a safer part of the house while Michael ran to fetch water and put it out.

The children huddled together, Julia still crying and clinging to a shell shocked, ash covered Emma while their parents worked to put out the flames. Thankfully, the disaster had remained secluded to the one bed and only burned up the bedsheets and parts of the mattress, the metal frame keeping it from spreading further.

Emma’s clothing had not been quite so lucky, her nightdress scorched along the bottom hem and all up the sides, small blackened holes littered here and there. Though, miraculously, Emma herself appeared to be completely unharmed by the fire that had consumed her only moments ago.

Once the flames had been fully doused and the doors and windows thrown open to to release the smoke, Mary and Michael went in search of an explanation to the strange happenings of their evening.

“Someone want to explain what happened?” Michael Bloom question, bushy black brows furrowing in anger at his 2 children. Julia was the first to offer up an explanation.

“I just woke up and Emma was on fire! It was really scary. I thought the whole house was going to burn up.” The younger girl clutched a beloved doll in her arms for comfort, big green eyes still watery and red from her tears. Michael’s attention immediately redirected itself onto Emma.

“I’m not sure either father. Honest. I was having the most awful dream about being trapped in a burning house. I woke up and the dream was real!” Emma tried to look as innocent and confused as possible which wasn’t at all hard to do since she really was both innocent and extremely confused.

“Well it didn’t just spawn out of thin air now did it?” Michael was growing angry, the muscles in his face scrunching up as his piercing black eyes darted between the 2 girls.

“We really don’t know what happened father. Honest.” Emma’s voice was quiet, childish, her eyes pleading with her father to believe them. If it was even possible Michael Bloom’s face scrunched up even harder as he looked between his scared, smoke smelling children.

“Fine. But you better make sure it does not happen again. Understood?” Both girls nodded furiously, being ushered back to bed by their mother.

“We’ll sort out the bed tomorrow. Tonight you’ll just have to share.” Mary Bloom waited until both Emma and Julia were squished into the single bed before roughly throwing the scratchy quilt over them and leaving without another word.

The window was still open to air out the house and left the girls huddling together for warmth as the late winter wind whisked in and chilled them to the bone. Emma couldn’t help but notice that despite the biting cold and her chattering teeth, underneath the blanket her palms were covered in a sheen of sweat.

* * *

The first occurrence happened on a Wednesday. By Saturday the Bloom family had all but forgotten the little incident and were back to their less than cheery ways.

“Emma watch the bacon. You let it burn again and you’ll be out looking for another switch. Julia get those dolls out of my kitchen floor before someone trips and breaks their neck.” Mary ordered the girls around as she set the breakfast table and handed a cup of coffee to Michael who was, as usual, sat at the head of the table reading the morning news.

“Anything new today darling?” Mary asked sweetly, trying to earn her husband’s favor by getting him talking about his favorite subject, politics.

“Not much really. More people being sacked as the economy plummets so prices are about go up again. A group of disorderly women were spotted at one of the docks smoking and drinking out in broad daylight. These radicals with their short hair and even shorter, harlequin dresses are ruining this good town I tell you. I believed they had put a stop to all of that in the 20’s. Clearly I was wrong! And I know it’s not just Cornwall it’s everywhere. You should hear some of the news coming out of America Mary. It’s downright scandalous the way they flock to parties and speakeasies, cohorting like men. It’s outrageous!” Michael fanned out the newspaper and took a long drag from his pipe, filling the kitchen with yet another layer of smog. Even Mary paused for a moment before answering in her usual practiced, monotone way.

“Yes dear. They are becoming harlots, the lot of them.”

Emma gripped the fork tighter in her hand as she flipped the sizzling bacon, trying hard not to give a retort of her own. She had heard a little bit about the going’s on her father mentioned from adults in town and found the liberal ideas quite fascinating. She would love to chop off her long hair, dress up in those sparkly dresses, and become the very thing her sexist father despised if for no other reason than to spite him.

It all sounded like a grand old time to the 10 year old and perhaps it was simply her rebellious spirit but she couldn’t understand her father’s complete aversion to the changing times. Her mother didn’t help of course. She followed her husband blindly without a single thought of her own it seemed. Emma often wondered why on Earth she had ended up trapped with 2 old crones stuck in the 1800s when even they themselves had barely been alive to see that time period.

It was true Emma had much more of a personality than her mother and a more forward thinking mind than her father. She also favored neither of them physically. While Emma and Julia both had wavy blonde hair and green eyes, Mary and Michael each had dark hair and matching obsidian eyes. They were both thin and gaunt with very harsh features whereas the girls were still chubby with baby fat and had soft, kind faces even when angry. If there hadn’t been records of their births Emma might have thought they weren’t related at all, and she had certainly questioned it a few dozen times. However, she had received one thing that made her unmistakably a Bloom and that was her short, bad temper. A family trait it seemed.

“Would it really be so bad for a girl to cut her hair? It’s not like it won’t grow back.” Emma started, challenging her father who met her hard stare with a lethal one of his own.

“It is the principle of the matter. First they chop off their hair. Then they start wearing trousers, and some have believe it or not. Before you know it women are trying to make their own money and support themselves without need for a husband. It just isn’t natural.” He seethed, puffing on his pipe with a steady pace as he awaited the rebuttal he knew was imminent from his bull headed daughter.

“And so what if they want to live for themselves rather than for a man? Why is a woman not afforded the same luxuries? What makes us weaker, less important, or worth less than a man?” Emma was on a roll now, forgetting the food completely as she took on her father in the heated debate, mother and sister watching nervously in silence.

“Women are made to bear children. They cannot do the work of a man as efficiently. They are smaller, weaker, and emotional.” Michael was quickly growing angry now.

“A good woman can do anything a man can do and she can do it with a screaming baby on her hip. It takes 2 to make a baby father. It isn’t just the woman. I may only be 10 years old but I know just how terrible men can be and in my opinion we would be a lot better off without you.”

Slap.

The stinging hand came down hard across Emma’s face, knocking her into the stove and over the open fire. She instinctively jumped back with a yelp as her arm landed directly on the lit eye. The young girl slowly looked up at her father, a bright red handprint displayed across her pale face, absolute hatred in her watery green eyes.

“I will not hear this nonsense in my own house. If you want to become one of those heathens then you will do so when you no longer live under my roof and eat my food. Until then you will act like a proper, respectable young lady and treat the men providing for your ungrateful little self with a little more respect. Is that understood girl?” Michael’s voice was calm, quiet, and quivering with barely concealed rage. Emma nodded silently, gently touching her heated cheek where he had hit her.

After Michael had stalked off to another part of the house no one was really in the mood for breakfast. Mary, Emma, and Julia picked at the food, Mary casting malevolent looks at her eldest daughter ever so often but not wanting to redirect her fury upon herself by stirring the pot.

Emma on the other hand had already redirected her attention elsewhere. When her father had knocked her into the stove the lit fire should have scalded her bare arm when it landed upon the eye, but, just like the night her bed caught fire she was once again left completely unharmed.

That afternoon it did in fact rain, a slow, drizzly rain that seeped into your bones and caused a chill to spread throughout your body even once you were back inside. Emma and Julia took miserably to the streets, the younger still trying to enjoy sloshing through puddles as she had claimed she would but it became immediately obvious that she was quite agitated by her soggy stockings.

The walk into town wasn’t long but even so by the time they made it to the grocer’s both girls were shivering and drenched from head to foot despite their colorful rain slickers. The pair wasted no time collecting all that was on the list, paid the man at the counter, and scurried back into the frigid rain towards the sweets shop, refusing to let the bad weather keep them from their promised treat.

Even despite the wet there was a gaggle of school aged children lingering about the corner shop, a smattering of both boys and girls clinging to their mother’s arm begging for every kind of sweet available. Others were already enjoying their selection outside away from the fray in whatever semi dry spot they could find.

“How are we gonna do this with so many grown ups in the way?” Julia whined, grabbing at Emma’s hand at childish frustration.

“First, we pick out the goods. Choose which sweet you want and meet me back by the door.” The pair split off, perusing all the different candy displays while avoiding the stuff behind the counter knowing it was just a little bit out of reach with the shopkeeper on patrol.

After a full lap through the over crowded store, Julia being forced to squirm through a man’s legs at one point, the duo found their way back to the door to converse amongst themselves again.

“I want to try a Baby Ruth.” Julia whispered eagerly, pointing to a display of colorfully wrapped chocolate bars. They had been all the rage lately, the kids at school often flaunting them in front of their friends like a prized possession.

“Fine. I’ll distract the shop owner. You snatch one and run. Got it?” Julia nodded with excitement, already sidling back towards the unguarded table.

Emma flounced up to the counter, catching the attention of the frazzled looking man trying to keep up with the Saturday hub bub while simultaneously keeping an eye out for naughty children such as themselves trying to steal.

“What do y’got that’s good sir?” Emma questioned loudly, slamming her hand down on the countertop to get his attention and perusing the shelves behind him, simultaneously reaching into her coat pocket with her free hand as if to pull out a handful of coins she did not have.

“Why, everything in my shop is delicious of course. I’ve got Snickers choc full of nuts and caramel, Abba Zabba’s with vanilla taffy and peanut butter, or perhaps you’d fancy a Charleston Chew, named after the dance and full of nougat.” The man prattled on in a booming voice, gesturing to each candy on the shelf.

“Hmm, got anything not chocolate? Tends to go right through me.” Emma clutched at her stomach and made a sour face.

“Of course. There’s Sherbert Fountain, Red Hots if you’re in the mood for a bit o’ spice, Hubba Bubba Bubblegum, all kinds of lolli-“ The man paused, quickly looking past her before beginning to shout. “Hey! Hey you girl! Stop at once!”

Emma spun around just in time to see Julia dart out of the crowded shop as fast as her little legs could carry her. The older girl wasted no time in flashing the handyman a wide, mischievous grin before following suit, the sound of angry shouts fueling her adrenaline and pushing her faster as she and her kid sister fled the scene of their crime.

The pair did not slow until they reached the safety of the beach, tripping and falling into the wet sand when they couldn’t stop giggling.

“Did you see the shop man’s face when he realized I was stealing?” Julia chortled giddily, rolling around in the sand, the drizzling rain still coming down on top of them.

“I really thought his head might pop. He was as red as a tomato! It looked like he was ready to leap over the counter and chase after us.” Emma cackled alongside her.

The sister’s were in tears by the time their giggles had subsided, faces red and clothing ruined by the sand, rain, and sea water, the waves lapping angrily at the shore made more excitable by the bad weather. They had only managed to snag one candy bar but neither complained, splitting it equally and taking the first bite together, moaning at the sweetness of the chocolate melting on their tongues.

“Whoever baby Ruth was she makes delicious candy.” Julia mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate and peanuts.

“Supposedly it was named after an American president’s daughter but a lot of people think it was named after another American baseball player.” Emma shrugged. “We had to do a presentation on the history of candy in school last year.” Julia shrugged back, not really caring about anything other than how it tasted.

After they had finished their sweet treat and were walking along the surf back towards home Julia spoke.

“That night your bed caught fire, you really don’t know what happened?” She peered sideways up at her older sister, big green eyes full of innocent curiosity. Emma just gave a thin lipped shake of her head.

“I really don’t. It was quite strange. And the weirdest part?” She hesitated only a moment, balling her hands into fists and feeling the sweat on her palms making the grocery bags slick and hard to hold. “My hands haven’t stopped burning since.”

* * *

The second occurrence came on Monday night. The same dream of little Emma trapped in the burning house only to wake up once more engulfed in flames. Michael and Mary again confronted their children about these strange happenings, quickly becoming less certain about Emma’s claimed innocence.

“Fires do not just start themselves.” Raged Michael, the veins in his neck bulging as he paced back and forth in front of his eldest daughter. Mary was off applying burn cream to Julia’s scorched fingers where she had tried to reach into the fire to rescue her big sister this time and paid the price.

“I don’t understand it either father! I swear it isn’t me!” Emma cried out desperately, begging her father to listen to her plea.

“Enough lying! Both times this has happened have left you without so much as a mark on you! Your sister is in there crying with 2nd degree burns and still you cannot confess to what you have done!” Michael was growing angrier by the second, spittle flying from his lips as his face drifted from red to purple. Hot tears were sliding down Emma’s cheeks, unsure of how to convince her father it wasn’t her fault.

“Father..” the 10 year old whimpered, curling in on herself and backing into the corner knowing full well what was about to occur.

“Very well. If you insist on refusing to speak the truth perhaps this will loosen your tongue, girl.” Michael was already unfastening the belt around his waist and stepping towards his daughter who turned her body into the wall, bracing for the pain to ensue.

The leather came down hard and loud across the child’s back, thin, cotton nightdress doing nothing to soften the angry blows. Emma gritted her teeth to keep from crying out and not give her father the satisfaction, using the wall for support as she ground her nails into the soft flesh of her palms. Michael gave her 10 sharp blows in the exact same spot each, her face red and tear streaked once he was finished but she did not offer up any more of an explanation as she did not have anything else to give.

This went on for several weeks. Twice a week or more Emma would unknowingly set fire to her bed in her sleep and each time it happened the punishments became more severe. Eventually Michael took away the remnants of the burned mattress, quilts, and pillow altogether, leaving Emma with nothing but the metal bed frame to sleep in.

Since removing the flammable materials from her space the fires had become less frequent, however, the ever present holes in her clothing and blackened metal cot told her they were still happening just less flamboyantly. Michael and Mary had taken to calling her a pyromaniac, still believing it was her purposefully starting the fires in a bit of childish rebellion as she never seemed to be injured by the flames. Julia still claimed to believe Emma about being innocent but as time went on even the 6 year old sounded less sure it wasn’t she who was causing havoc in the family.

The beatings came frequently, the girls’ father growing angrier each time and looking for any excuse he could find to remove his belt. As for Emma herself she found her hands growing increasingly hotter, her palms sweating and itching almost constantly now. She tried to tell her mother of her odd medical predicament but Mary just believed she was making up more excuses to try and throw them off her trail.

Emma was scared and confused but eventually resigned herself to dealing with her problems all on her own, her parents clearly uninterested in caring for their own child. She had always possessed a bit of a temper and wasn’t afraid to put someone in their place should she feel they deserve it but this new set of circumstances and the obvious fear her family had for her had left Emma with a hardness no 10 year old should have.

She had taken to more or less caring for herself, not that she hadn’t been doing that previously, but aside from beatings and harsh words when she did quite literally anything in their vicinity Mary and Michael had taken to simply ignoring their eldest daughter altogether.

“Julia set out the plates and get your father. This is nearly done.” Mary demanded, flipping sizzling bacon with one hand, the other perched on her bony hip in her usual expression of annoyance. She didn’t particularly trust Emma around the stove these days and had become too fearful of her to even let her help in other ways.

As the rest of the family sat down to enjoy a meal together, Emma snatched a piece of toast and a strip of bacon off the platter before setting off out the door. While her mother may not want her around the cooking food it was apparently still her job to fetch the weekly groceries.

As she walked she absentmindedly scratched at her itchy palms, wiping sweat on her dress every so often. The burning sensation had increased over the last couple of days and was driving Emma mad but she was growing used to it. However, it certainly seemed worse today for some reason.

The closer she got to town the worse her symptoms seemed to get, the girl clawing at her palms until they were blistered red. They had also begun to swell somewhere along the way, the skin stretching and tightening like 2 big water blisters ready to burst.

They were beginning to agitate Emma a great deal by the time she had made it to the grocer’s, her whole hands up to the wrists now burning something awful and she thought they might just burst into flames if they got any hotter. She collected a few of the things they needed around the small market and moved towards the ice chest containing the different cuts of fish.

Unable to stand the incessant aggravation any longer the girl glanced around to make sure no one was looking before plunging her hands into the ice chest and automatically sighing with relief. However, the relief was short lived as her hands only seemed to burn hotter beneath the ice, quickly melting the contents inside. Emma watched in horror as the ice began to disappear at a rapid pace, the fish chunks soon floating around a box of tepid, smelly water and her hands burning worse than ever.

“Oi! You girl! Wha’ d’ya think yer doin’?” Emma jumped at the grocer’s gruff voice, ripping her hands out of the ice chest and spinning around to face his wrath.

“Yeh think it’s funny d’ya? Ruin’ me stock? Yer goin’ ter pay for all that.” The grocery man was livid, stalking towards the little girl with an angry red face. Emma was just debating whether to make a run for it or to stay and try to explain herself when all of a sudden, in her adrenaline induced state, her swollen, burning hands suddenly spontaneously combusted right before their very eyes.

Emma yelped and instinctively wrung out her hands trying to put out the fire but of course it didn’t work. The grocer took a hurried step backwards away from her as his eyes widened in surprised fear. Emma was terrified and had no idea what to do so she did the only thing she could think of. She ran.

The 10 year old high tailed it out of the shop and through the center of town, people gasping and jumping out of the way as they took notice of her flaming appendages. The flames consumed her hands up to the wrists, 2 great balls of fire encouraged into burning brighter by Emma’s panicked flee.

She ran until she made it to the beach, collapsing in the surf and plunging her hands into the ice cold seawater in a desperate attempt to put out the flames. The fire extinguished underwater but the pain persisted and as she drew them back out they immediately relit. Emma went back and forth for several minutes, dunking her hands in the water, watching the fire die and the water sizzle, just to pull them out and have it rekindle itself all without leaving a scratch on the girl’s tender skin.

Eventually the adrenaline began to subside and so did the intensity of the flames, Emma discovering that if she concentrated really hard on calming both her breathing and her heart rate that the fire began to sputter and finally vanish, stubby, pale fingers back to normal if not still uncomfortably warm. She was afraid of letting her emotions light them back up and worked very hard to keep herself calm as she stared at her fingers in disbelief.

Once she was certain she had it somewhat under control Emma turned back towards home, fearfully checking her hands every time she felt an itch or a prickle of heat, knowing she did not in fact have things under control as she was desperately trying to convince herself. She could not let her mother or father find out about this. They would lock her up, kick her out, or maybe even kill her depending on what kind of day Michael had at the factory.

Emma was doing her best to suppress the panic needling its way into her chest when she finally made it back across town without incident, scurrying into the Bloom’s apartment home and off to her bedroom without stopping to even check if anyone was home. Her father was likely still at work, her mother off at a neighbor’s house spilling her woes to her housewife friends. Julia, however, was sprawled atop her bed, already out of school for the day.

“You’re back quick. Where’s the groceries?” The 6 year old questioned, attempting to read a children’s book she had nicked from school. Emma didn’t immediately answer, sitting down on the edge of her own metal cot and breathing hard, taking in the events that had just occurred.

“Emma? Are you alright?” Julia had her full attention on her older sister now, obviously concerned by her odd behavior and abandoning her book on farm animals to sit up and face the other girl.

“I-“ Emma started, unsure of what to actually tell her or how to do it without sounding completely, certifiably insane.

“I think.. there’s something seriously wrong with me Julia.” Emma stared hard at her hands, half wanting them to catch fire again and prove to herself and Julia it had really happened but at the same time fearing she wouldn’t be able to stop it again if they did.

“What do you mean?” Julia was intrigued, wanting to understand what was going on with her big sister as of late. Emma hesitated only a moment, taking in an unsteady breath before finally telling the other girl everything.

“I was at the market and my hands started burning like they were going to catch fire any second. It hurt so bad I stuck them in the ice box where the fish are kept. But then the ice started melting and when I pulled them out they really did catch on fire! Can you believe that? I certainly couldn’t. Both my hands, covered in flames but the craziest part? It didn’t even hurt. It was like my skin was fire proof or something. Then the grocer man got mad I had ruined the fish and I ran out of the shop and down to the beach. Everyone in town saw. They all know I’m a freak, Julia, and they’re going to tell mum and dad and then I’m done for!” At some point tears had begun to run down the 10 year old’s face, fear coursing through her body but also relief at finally having told someone. However, Julia wasn’t sporting the expression Emma had expected her to have after relaying such surprising and exciting information.

“You’re just making that up.” The younger girl pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and putting on a rather adorable look of annoyance. “You must have done something really bad in town in you’re making up stories to cover it up Emma.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Emma cried, begging the other girl to believe her. “Everyone saw! The grocer watched me catch on fire! It really happened I swear! Julia you have to believe me.”

“Father told me not to listen to your excuses Emma. He said you’re just looking for attention and to not spend so much time with you anymore.” Now Emma was growing angry. Angry at her sister for not believing her story, angry at her parents for refusing to listen to what was obviously a cry for help, and angry with herself for believing that anyone would care enough about her to do either of those things.

She opened her mouth to tell her sister exactly where she would stick her flaming fist the next time she saw their father when her anger got the best of her, the lack of control causing her fists to go up in flames again just like at the market.

Julia screamed. Emma gasped and reflexively tried to scurry backwards away from the heat. However, just like earlier the flames did not harm her, simply wriggling and dancing across her fingertips as the pair watched in astonishment.

“Wha- how are you doing that?” Julia had fallen off the opposite side of her bed when she had gotten spooked by the sudden appearance of the fire and now crept cautiously around the bedpost with wide, fearful eyes and her mouth agape in utter shock.

“I told you I don’t know! I can’t control it.” Emma tried frustratedly shaking out her hands again with about as much luck as the first time. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried to calm herself down again but she was too amped up by her fight with Julia.

Julia watched with fascinated horror as Emma flexed her fingers, tried blowing them out like a match, and huffed in annoyance when nothing seemed to work, the flames blazing hotter than ever. Finally she took a long, deep breath and concentrated on clearing her mind and slowing her racing heart. Closing her eyes she imagined her hands encased in ice and the flames slowly dissolving, her skin cooling underneath the ice. After a couple of minutes she risked a peak and, to her delight, found nothing more than her very average, fire free fingers wiggling in front of her.

A wide grin broke out on the older girl’s face, waggling her cold fingers for Julia to see. She didn’t have complete control over her new ability but it was a start. The next time it happened she at least knew how to stop it even if she couldn’t always control when it happened.

* * *

It wasn’t until the next day that things went from bad to worse. Emma and Julia were at school and it seemed the events of yesterday were already making their way around town, Emma’s classmates ogling and whispering behind her back when they thought she wasn’t listening. Julia’s classmates kept asking if the rumors were true and if her sister could really control fire. The 6 year old told the truth. The 10 year old did not.

Julia’s innocent, naive friends were entranced with the idea that someone could spout fire out of their fingertips at will, continuously asking how she did it and trying in vain to replicate it themselves all throughout class, much to their teacher’s chagrin. Emma’s classmates, however, were less impressed and more wary of the girl on fire. There were murmured whispers of ‘freak’, ‘monster’, ‘con artist’, ‘gypsy’, and Emma did her best to ignore the lot of them. Nevertheless, it was only a matter of time until the girl’s hot headed temper got the best of her as it always seemed to. One of the boys that sat behind her was animatedly whispering to his friend, obviously intending for Emma to overhear.

“My mum was in the village when it happened. Saw the whole thing. She said if she hadn’t jumped out of the way when she did she would have gotten set on fire. She felt the heat and everything the freak got so close.” The boy sneered, earning an amused chuckle from his crony beside him. “My father was even saying we should bring back the witch trials. She’d certainly be the first to hang.”

That did it. Emma whipped around in her seat with so much fire in her eyes it was a surprise she didn’t light the whole desk up like a bonfire. The glint of fear that passed between the two boys was enough to grant her the smallest amount of satisfaction as she silently dared them to speak another word against her.

“If you 2 don’t shut your gobs this instant I’ll set the both of you on fire and dance in the ashes. We’ll see what your mum says then when you come home on the bottom of my shoe.” She hissed, holding up one hand and giving them a very unladylike gesture.

“Miss Bloom!” Screeched the school marm, turning just in time to miss the exchange of words but to witness the raised middle finger. The boys sniggered and feigned innocence as they took great delight in seeing her get in trouble.

“They started it Miss!” Emma tried, pointing at the pair of goons who were pretending to pour over their schoolwork.

“That is quite enough Miss Bloom. You will turn back around and worry about yourself or else I will have to get the ruler again. Am I understood?” Emma grumbled a response and turned back around in her seat, the back of her neck prickling in irritation as the boys continued to make snide remarks all throughout class.

After school Emma practically dragged Julia away from the grey brick building and through the busy streets back towards home. The townsfolk ogled Emma as bad, if not worse, than her classmates had, backing away in fear as she passed, mother’s roughly tugging children into their skirts, father’s shaking their head’s disapprovingly at her as they shielded their family’s. Emma set her brow and surged forwards through the throng, Julia trotting along behind her already out of breath.

“Emma slow down.” The younger girl whined, panting and struggling to keep up as they made the journey from school to home in nearly half the time it usually took.

When they got there Julia scurried off to help their mother prep for supper while Emma locked herself in their bedroom. She flopped down on her bed, the old metal cot groaning in response to her sudden weight. Everyone in town knew. They all had an opinion of her and it did not appear to be a good one. The other kids were bad enough but hearing the same whispers of ‘freak’ and ‘witch’ from the grown ups just worked to solidify Emma’s belief that she was quickly becoming the town outcast.

Perhaps she should just run away and join the circus. Emma snorted at that thought. What would perfect Michael and Mary say then? Their daughter, the circus freak.

All of a sudden Emma’s ears caught the sound of another voice in the house, that of one of her mother’s neighbor friends, and she sounded distressed which of course piqued the 10 year old’s curiosity. She crept out of her bedroom and into the kitchen where Mrs. Lisenby, the woman next door, appeared to be having a come apart.

“It’s all over town Mary! They’re saying she caught fire, just like that!” She snapped her fingers before resuming her frantic pacing across the kitchen floor. “No reason at all. Harry said he got onto her about bungling his fish. He said soon as she took her hands out of the ice box they just lit up like a matchstick. Poof! Gave the poor man quite the fright. And then she just ran off, disappeared towards the cove.” Mrs. Lisenby was clearly distressed and Mary herself looked as if she couldn’t decide whether to be worried about her dear friend’s mental state or terrified of her own daughter.

“Well it had to have been some sort of mistake Alice. There is just not way someone could conjure fire right into their hands, least of all my very own daughter.” Mary offered as a weak rebuttal but she didn’t look at all convinced as her face slackened in deep thought and her fingers instinctively went to the cross she wore at her throat. She of course hadn’t told Mrs. Lisenby of Emma’s pyromaniac tendencies.

“What if the girl’s a witch Mary? What if she’s possessed by the devil himself?!” Mrs. Lisenby was really working herself into a state now, chewing at her fingernails as she wore a path across the kitchen tile. Emma had heard enough and was becoming increasingly agitated by people claiming she was such awful things without asking her about their accusations first. Before she really thought about what she was doing the girl stepped into view with an expression of barely concealed wrath on her face ready to let them have it. Mrs. Lisenby let out a yelp and jumped so hard Emma was surprised she hadn’t hit her head on the ceiling.

“For your information I am not a witch.” Emma seethed, all but shaking with silent rage. “And I will thank you kindly to stop spreading these atrocious lies about me Miss.” Mrs. Lisenby was taken aback, her lips moving but no sound coming out as she floundered like a fish out of water.

“I didn’t mean.. I- I really must be getting home now. The kids.. yes I should go.” She hastily bid farewell to Mary, casting more spooked looks in the direction of the little girl still staring daggers at her on her way out. As soon as the door was shut and they were alone Mary rounded on her daughter.

“What is wrong with you?” She hissed, malice in her deadly quiet voice.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that people are accusing me of something so horrible. I am not a witch or possessed by the devil mother!” Emma huffed, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.

“What you are is a nasty, attention seeking little girl.” Mary began stalking towards Emma. “I don’t know how you’re pulling these little stunts of yours but they need to cease this instant! You are single-handedly ruining this family’s good name and turning the whole of Cornwall against us!”

Mary was absolutely livid, her face turning scarlet and her hands shaking where they hung at her sides, fingers clearly itching to wrap themselves around little Emma’s throat. Before she could defend herself in walked Michael, Julia hot on his heels with a basket of cabbage from the lady down the street. Michael Bloom paused as he put away his coat and hat, glanced between his seething wife and frustrated eldest daughter before he face curled into a look of irritated disgust and he let out a resigned sigh.

“What have you done this time eh?” He sighed again, directing the accusatory question at Emma. However, her mother stepped in before she could utter a single word.

“The little wench was mucking about in the grocer’s yesterday apparently. Alice stopped by and she was in a right state claiming the girl had set herself on fire right in front of Mr. Mandel and then went running through the streets for everyone to see! Yet, not a scratch on her. Just like always. I don’t know how she’s doing it Michael but this cannot continue.” Mary tsked her tongue, glaring darkly at Emma. “They are calling her a witch, a demon from hell Michael.”

Mr. Bloom’s expression had grown darker and more angry with every word, his beady black eyes boring into Emma’s undeterred green ones. “Is this true?” He asked her in a deadly quiet voice, venom dripping from every syllable.

“Yes.” Emma stated plainly, meeting her father’s lethal glare without fear. She was done trying to reason with these people. If they weren’t going to listen to her then she wasn’t going to cower in front of them begging for their mercy and forgiveness.

Michael looked as if he was going to blow a fuse. Nostrils flared, breaths coming in harsh puffs, fingers quivering with rage, he reached out for Emma, undoubtedly ready to throttle her and be done with all this malarkey. However, something happened that shocked every single individual in the room, including Emma herself.

As her anger at her family took hold and consumed her very being, Emma lit up like a firework and this time it wasn’t just her hands. This time her entire body from the tip of her blonde head to the toes of her worn out boots was instantly engulfed in red hot flames. It was as if a bomb had detonated beneath her feet, the flames licking up towards the ceiling as the girl’s fury made them flicker and dance wildly around her.

Mary and Julia screamed, jumping backwards. Michael hurried to shield them with his own body as he stared transfixed, mouth agape, at Emma in the center of the fire, posed like an effigy with a wicked little grin on her perfectly poised face. She peered at her family from behind the wall of fire, unfazed by the heat that should have begun melting her baby soft skin instantaneously, knowing they now had no choice but to believe her.

* * *

Mary Bloom could not handle it. She wasted no time fleeing from the house screeching about how her daughter was a demon delivered straight from Hell via her own womb. She did not take any of her belongings or inform anyone where she was going. She simply fled, no one knowing when or if she would ever return.

As soon as she left Emma’s act of spontaneous combustion ceased and her father took out his own fear and anger via the belt. The 10 year old was bruised, bloody, and still covered in soot from the fire when her father forcibly dragged her by the hair down the hallway and threw her into her bedroom, Emma screaming and cursing the whole way. He returned minuets later with a set of asbestos sheets, tying her hands and feet to each corner of the metal cot.

“You can rot in here for all I care.” Michael spat in disgust. “You are no daughter of mine. The devil can come and collect you himself if he wants you back.”

He boarded up the window and locked the door from the outside so she could not escape, Julia being forced to move to the couch at night to sleep and forbidden to go anywhere near her sister. Nevertheless, the 6 year old did not always abide by her father’s horrid rules.

He really did seem determined to let his eldest daughter starve to death and as the days dragged on Julia began sneaking bits of food from at least one of their meals, mixing it up each day so as not to arouse suspicion, and collecting the key from where her father had stashed it in a flower pot before sneaking into the bedroom after Michael had fallen into his nightly drunken stupor.

“I nicked some bread for you Emma.” Stated Julia quietly as she stealthily made her way into their room that evening.

“Thanks Julia.” The older girl croaked back, voice hoarse with disuse, lips cracking with dehydration.

Julia poured a bit of water from the jug on the nightstand into the foggy, unwashed glass that had been sitting there for the last week and took her time tearing off bits of hard bread, hand feeding it to her sister as if she were an invalid. Emma was silent during all of this, eyes dull and glazed over as she chewed reflexively and without interest. Nearly 6 days locked in a dark room, unable to move or interact with anyone had left the 10 year old depressed and vaguely mad, eyes roaming back and forth across the bare ceiling as if there were a projector playing a film only she could see.

It took Emma entirely too long to finish the meager meal, the bread somehow hard, burnt, and chewy all at the same time. With Mary gone Michael and Julia were struggling with meals, a man and a young child about as adept at cooking as monkeys in the zoo. Nevertheless, Emma did not complain, or even seem to taste it really, just monotonously chewing and swallowing with whatever undercooked or overcooked slop Julia managed to obtain for her.

The asbestos sheets kept her from lighting anything on fire and releasing herself but she had certainly tried like hell in the first couple of days, refusing to give in to her father without a fight. However, all that her efforts had achieved were a few new holes in her clothing and a blackened metal cot beneath her.

“They have started asking about you at school.” Julia started, often catching Emma up on what she had been missing. “Father said to just tell them you’re sick but I don’t know how long we can keep up that lie. The people in town stare at father and me when we go, probably wondering if I can do it too and what he’s done to you and mother.”

Emma listened without a flicker of interest, still staring unwaveringly at the dark ceiling.

“We started learning arithmetic is school. It’s awful. A boy in my class brought in a frog and it hopped up Mrs. Spinnet’s skirts. That was funny. I ripped my dress tripping in the street yesterday. I wish mother was here to fix it.” Julia’s voice got quieter as she fidgeted with her fingers in her lap, Emma finally looking at her younger sister.

“I’m sorry Julia.” She whispered with sincerity. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Why’d you have to do it Emma? Why couldn’t you just keep it a secret, be normal?” Julia’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration and angry tears gathered in the younger girl’s eyes.

Emma didn’t even have it in her to be mad at her for speaking just as the adults did about her. She knew it wasn’t Julia’s fault, she was just a little girl who couldn’t understand why her mother had abandoned her, why her father was so cruel, or why her sister, her best friend, was a freak with supernatural powers at the center of all this tumult.

“I’m sorry Julia.” Emma repeated softly. “I really, really am. I didn’t ask for this either.”

Julia left soon after, leaving Emma to stare at the ceiling and contemplate her seemingly worthless existence until the next time the other girl came for a visit.

This went on for an agonizingly long couple of weeks, a teacher from the school even showing up at the house one time to check on Emma in which Michael lied and told her that the girl was incapacitated by a horribly infectious disease and that no one could get near her or even step foot into the house without risk of contamination. Only once a week did Michael briefly cast a look into the dark room to see whether or not Emma was still alive, simply wishing to remove the body before it could smell up the house once she was no longer his problem. He always looked quite disgruntled when her head lolled to the side to give him a weak glare, ensuring him of her continued survival. He still did not know of Julia’s late night escapades after all and apparently just decided to believe demons did not require frequent food or drink to survive.

However, one night Julia didn’t come, at least not at her usual time. This was the first night in nearly a month that the girls’ father hadn’t drank himself into a diluted stupor throughout the evening and was too alert for the 6 year old to try and steal a bit of food at dinner and he also refused to retire to his bedroom until nearly midnight. Finally the quiet shuffling of the lock indicated the other girl’s arrival except this time she did not hold food scraps between her tiny fingers but something that glinted silver in the minuscule rays of moonlight penetrating the boarded up room.

“Emma!” Julia seemed agitated, her eyes as wide as saucers as she hurried over to the bed. “I nicked father’s pocket knife. I’m setting you free.”

Emma perked up at this news, watching as Julia clumsily brandished the small blade, hacking at the knotted fabric around one wrist and nearly cutting both of them about half a dozen times in the process.

Once she had a hand free Emma wasted no time before quickly sawing the other 3 limbs out of their bindings. As soon as she could move freely the older girl hopped up on shaky legs, a newfound sense of purpose finding its way within her.

“Come with me Julia.” Emma pleaded hurriedly, throwing a few essentials into a knapsack.

“I can’t Emma. I can’t leave father and what if mother comes back?” The younger girl was clearly anxious but there was also a sort of determined resignation on her young face.

“They’ll know you helped me. They’ll take it out on you Julia!”

“I’m not going Emma. I’ll put the key and the knife back and he’ll never know. He doesn’t know I know where they are. Even if he does find out it’s better than watching you die.” There was sadness in Julia’s big green eyes but she did not shed a tear, instead wrapping her big sister in the biggest, strongest hug she could muster before pushing her towards the open door.

The younger girl stealthily replaced the key and the knife from where she had found them but left the bedroom door unlocked so that it just looked like Emma had found a way out herself. If they were lucky it would be days before Michael even noticed, giving Emma as much of a head start as possible, not that he would bother looking her even when he did realize. Michael would be thrilled that she was no longer his burden to bear.

Emma took a few cans of food from the back of the pantry, hoping he wouldn’t notice if he couldn’t see the empty holes, and filled an old canteen with clean water.

“Thank you Julia.” Emma stated a bit awkwardly once she was standing in the doorway ready to depart. “If I can I will come back for you.”

Julia nodded once, curtly, not oblivious to what was most likely an empty promise.

“Good bye Emma. Be careful.”

Without another word to her sister Emma hurried out into the night, Julia watching anxiously from the steps as her best friend, the only person who had ever truly looked out for her and loved her disappeared into the shadows without so much as a backward glance, abandoning her just as their mother had done.

* * *

Emma traveled the country lanes solely by night for the first few days, not wanting to risk potentially being recognized and sent back to Cornwall. During the day she sheltered in alcoves along the beach, in the scarce trees littered about, or once in a long abandoned barn on the edge of someone’s property.

Being the middle of winter it was quite cold and all Emma had to wear was a rather ratty, blue dress that barely brushed her skinned knees. Yet, she wasn’t at all cold. Little Emma was growing more comfortable with her fire wielding abilities everyday.

Since that last night with her family she hadn’t been able to conjure up anything flamboyant but she had worked out how to hold a baseball sized ball of raw flame between her palms. It was small and inconsistent, often flickering in and out at random, but it was on her terms. No more fire fingers or effigy burnings, although when she sneezed sometimes a little flame still blew out of her nose like a dragon with a chest cold. She also found that she really didn’t feel the cold unless the temperature became exceptionally low and the fire raging in her core seemed to stutter, sapping and depleting her energy faster than normal.

Emma had enough canned food for roughly a week along with whatever she could scavenge on the road such as dandelion roots, horseradish roots, and some very questionable mushrooms that left her dreaming of polka dotted monkeys wearing top hats and tailcoats dancing the 2 step. Fresh water was easy enough to come by with the plethora of shallow springs and animal troughs. Emma wasn’t exactly sure where it was she was going but she kept on moving, searching for something to make this life worth living.

As she walked she often began to find her mind wandering to what had become of her family back home. Had her father yet discovered her disappearance? Had her mother come back if she knew Emma was gone from their lives? And what had happened to Julia? Had she been punished for helping her older sister escape or were they simply too pleased to care?

There were still so many more questions swirling around in the 10 year old’s brain when her ears picked up the low hum of distant voices carried to her on the wind, pausing and listening to try and discern what type of people she was about to run up on this late at night. Emma crept towards the sound, careful to keep herself concealed in the shadows. Once she finally caught a good look at the odd group her eyebrows shot upwards in surprise.

There were horses, dogs, and people galore, littered all across a makeshift camp alongside a smattering of more unusual creatures: small monkeys, snakes, a pair of zebras, and even a large lion asleep in one of the barred, cage like trollies. Many of the people gathered around a bonfire in the center of the camp, talking, laughing, and showing off talents as unusual as the beasts they traveled with.

One man juggled pins, throwing them up and down and around in a pattern Emma could not wrap her brain around. A woman decked out in glittering gold jewelry played a miniature flute and swayed her upper body to the music, a gigantic king cobra peeking its head out of a basket and moving its own frilled head to the rhythm as if in a trance. There were also a handful of school aged children running amok as well but they appeared to be in charge of the chores that grown ups did not want to do such as tending the animals and lighting up the fires to cook over rather than practicing odd skills.

This strange amalgamation of people were carnies Emma realized with a start. Circus freaks, outcasts who were considered too weird and abnormal to make a life in respectable society. People normals feared and wanted to keep hidden. People like Emma.

She knew what she needed to do and so with a determined glint in her eye she stepped out of the safety of the darkness and strode right into the heart of the lion’s den with her head held high. The little girl waltzed right up to the gaggle of men and women hovering around the biggest fire and waited on someone to take notice of her.

“Well what do we have here?” An exceptionally tall, lanky man peered down at her with a smile full of yellow, rotting teeth. “Lost are yeh little miss?”

They all chuckled lowly, every pair of eyes now locked onto the lone child in their midst. However, the fire in Emma’s gaze never wavered, staring each of them in the eye as menacingly as a 10 year old could.

“I want to see the ringmaster.” She stated coldly, hands instinctively heating up where they hung at her sides.

“Is that right? And why exactly should the ringmaster himself bother with the likes of you eh?”

“I want a job.” This really set them off, catching the attention of others in the encampment as a few of them all but fell off their log seats laughing. Anger flared in the younger girl, having to dig her fingernails into her palms and bite her tongue to keep from wiping the grins off every one of their faces.

“A job? You want a job as a circus freak? And what makes you think you have something to offer us anyways eh?” The tall man sneered, crossing his knobby arms across an equally knobby chest and sitting down on a log in order to look Emma in the eye.

Surprisingly it was Emma who broke the intense staring contest first but only to glance at the raging fire blazing hotly in the center of the group and calmly walking towards it as everyone watched with rapt interest. A couple of gasps sounded around her as the young girl reached into the flames, plucked out a smoldering stick without so much as a wince of pain, and chomped down on it, a little smoke trail emitting from her nostrils.

“Fire eater.” Emma stated blandly, meeting the tall man’s now impressed gaze. The others looked at her with the same slightly surprised expression on their faces and fell quiet, unsure of how exactly she had just done that. Playing with controlled fire was one thing, it was another entirely for a child to be able to reach into the red hot flames without a flicker of pain or injury.

“Humph. She’s got tricks.” The tall man grinned, a knowing look passing between him and the snake charmer that Emma did not notice. “Ringmaster’s in that tent o’er there.”

He pointed to the largest tent of all in the center of the camp, Emma nodding her thanks before proceeding in that direction. “Good luck little Phoenix.” The tall man’s chuckled lowly, the eyes of all the carnies following her.

“Hello?” She called, peeking her head inside.

“Yeah? Wha’ d’yer want now?” A gruff, slightly slurred voice responded from somewhere in the very back of the tent.

“I’m looking for a job.” Emma stepped fully inside the dingy makeshift home, peering around for the man she was speaking to. Finally, a squat little man in his mid 40’s poked his egg shaped head out, a flask of booze clutched in his chubby fingers.

“A job eh? And what exactly is it you can do little girl?”

“I’m a fire eater.” The ring master quirked one eyebrow and moved out of the shadows to get a better look at her.

“A fire eater eh? You seem mighty young to be playing with fire. You know the last one we had ended up setting herself on fire in the middle of a show. Haven’t exactly been too keen on replacing that act after the uproar she caused.” His beady black eyes stared scrutinizingly at Emma, sizing her up.

“That won’t happen with me sir. Give me a chance to prove it to you.” Emma had that determined look on her face, the one that either made adults treat her as an isolate, disobedient child, or as an equal. In this case it seemed to work in the girl’s favor as a yellow, toothy grin spread slowly across the ring master’s pimply face.

“I like your confidence kid. Very well then. We have a show in 3 days time. Let’s see what you got.” He nodded and turned away from her, a clear dismissal, and Emma left his tent feeling rather satisfied.

* * *

The 3 days passed rather quickly, the circus folks accepting Emma but still keeping a heathy distance as they remained uncertain of her. She kept the more unnatural aspects of her abilities to herself, however, that didn’t stop her from adding on a bit of a flare from time to time during practice.

As opposed to the normal people that has to ingest some form of toxic, flammable substance in order to breathe fire like a dragon, Emma did not need to. She was able to inhale the flames and breathe them back out at will, even going so far as to shoot a a bonfire sized jet of fire 6 feet into the air above her like a human blowtorch.

As she found her flow and developed a routine Emma became all the more experimental with exactly how much she could get away with before anyone suspected it might be more than just an act. Her body moved in a sort of dance of her own creation as she twirled the burning torches she carried, sending sparks flying all around her like fireflies dancing across a summer meadow.

The group spent most of the daylight hours traveling, stopping only for a meager lunch or to occasionally re-shoe a horse. During the evenings those that had something to practice did so, the others whose abnormality lay within their physical appearance busying themselves with cooking or playfully cat calling their friends.

Emma had been somewhat fascinated upon seeing all the different acts that first evening as she had only ever seen the circus one time as a very small child. Alongside the snake charmer lady there was also the lion tamer, the twins that did acrobatics while riding a pair of zebras Roman style, a man that trained dogs to jump through hoops, a trapeze artist that doubled as a contortionist and could squeeze her entire body into a milk crate. And of course there were those that relied on their unusual physical traits such as the tall man, the bearded lady, the girl who barely stood 3 feet tall at 22 years old, and the man that had tattooed and pierced his body so extravagantly that he more closely resembled a serpent than a human.

Then there were the other children who Emma learned were orphaned runaways just looking for food and work and who were the ones to set up camp and handle the brunt work that came with traveling with the circus. Emma was the youngest of the performers but one of the oldest children and the orphan boys weren’t too keen on befriending performers. She was left to try and make a place for herself among the grown ups even if they were more or less ignoring her as well until they knew whether or not she was fated to become one of them.

“Reckon we’ll be there tomorrow. Just enough time to set up before the first show on Friday night.” The tall man, who Emma now knew was named Phineas, grunted, warming his hands by the fire that evening.

“Gonna be a bloody cold one this weekend. Last cold spell of the year I hope. Thought spring was supposed to be warm and flowery. Think anyone’ll actually come out for the show?” Asked the snake charmer, Leonora, shrugging her traveling cloak tighter against the biting wind.

“People always show. No matter the weather. Remember that ice storm few years back in London? Or that heat spell in Bristol when people was fainting left and right? People don’t care bout weather so long as they get their money’s worth o’ entertainment.” The others chuckled in agreement, swapping stories back and forth about the past. Emma listened with only mild interest, having nothing to contribute and no desire to anyhow, simply killing time until she could go back to her tent for the night.

“You ready for your shot at the big top little miss?” Phineas turned his attention onto her as did most of the others.

“Guess so.” Emma shrugged, intently chewing her food. She didn’t have much interest in idle chat or making friends, preferring when they ignored her and left her to go about her own business. Yet, her hostility never seemed to have the desired effect on Phineas at least.

“Been watching you with your little light sticks.” Phineas grinned with his yellow teeth. “You seem quite comfortable handling that fire. Almost abnormally so.”

Emma glared at him, not entirely sure what he was implying and yet again completely missing the knowing look he exchanged with the snake charmer.

“I beg your pardon?” Emma bristled, ready to either come up with some lame excuse for her odd ability or pick a fight with him in order to divert his attention elsewhere. However, the tall man just let out a low chuckle of amusement.

“Only teasing kid. You’ll do just fine. I’m sure of it.” He winked at her and went back to making bets with the others about who would muck up their act this week, leaving Emma both confused and mildly aggravated by his incessant need to pick at her.

There was much chatter on the road the next day as the group of oddballs drew closer to their destination with every step. Emma entertained herself with conjuring little fireballs between her hands when no one was watching, the adults laughing and taking light hearted jabs at one another involving their talents as per usual. Even the animals seemed more restless than normal, obviously picking up on the excitement radiating off the humans.

After what felt like an eternity and a half they finally arrived on the outskirts of a sleepy little town Emma did not recognize. They were quite far inland at this point and the terrain had changed considerably. Where there were rocky, sandy beaches, the smell of salt in the damp air, and vast cliffs looking out across the sea, here there were no distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore, flat, brown countryside as far as the eye could see, and the tiny village set in the middle of it all looked pale, Victorian, and rather sickly. From what Emma could see from their place atop the lone hill these people still lived like it was the mid 1800s, completely forgoing the thriving modern day society that was the 1920s.

The boys went about setting up camp and since they had arrived mid afternoon there was enough light to begin setting up the big top as well. This was the first time Emma had seen the show tent and watched in mild fascination as it was erected, the boys working together quickly and efficiently clearly having done this a few dozen times before. The ringmaster was strutting about checking in on everyone ensuring they were fit and ready to perform the following night.

“Ready for your shot at the big time kid?” He asked her with a toothy grin. She had learned the man’s name was Sawyer but he preferred to be called “the amazing Stolinski” or simply ringmaster.

“Guess so.” Emma shrugged, having no more enthusiasm for him than anyone else.

“Ah come on kid. This is your chance to be a star. Anyone else in your position would be over the moon ecstatic!” He beamed, opening his arms wide and gesturing to the entirety of the operation. However, Emma wasn’t so sure that was true. No one wanted to be a circus freak, it was what you became as a last ditch effort to survive. She simply gave the ringmaster a tight lipped smile that more closely resembled a grimace and a curt nod, knowing full well what would come out of her mouth if she chose to speak.

“You’ll go on after the twins.” He continued on, unbothered by Emma’s lack of enthusiasm. “The lion tamer will come out before you’ve finished and you’ll light up the ring of fire for her on your way out.”

Emma nodded that she understood and he clapped her on the back before moving off to pester someone else.

As the morning light crested the hilltop and cast a warm glow around the frosty, fluttering circus tent a few of the early risers in the village began to take notice of their sudden appearance. There was pointing and staring as everyone realized the circus had come to town and later in the morning the boys set out to sell tickets and hype up the people for tonight.

The performers had the day to lounge about or lightly practice, not wanting to be too worn out before it had even begun. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, laughing and joking boisterously as they huddled around the fires for warmth. Leonora had been right about the cold. It was bloody freezing and it would only get worse as the weak sunlight disappeared into night.

Nevertheless, Emma didn’t mind at all. The biting winds didn’t bother her like it did the others. And just as Phineas had predicted it did not seem to stop the villagers from wanting to see the show either as the boys returned that afternoon with significantly fuller pockets of coins.

“Nearly everyone down there bought a ticket!” One boy, Fabian, grinned, unloading his pockets into the hat of the ringmaster alongside the others.

“Well done boys. Get some food and start bringing everything into the tent. Only a few more hours until show time!”

As the sun went down and the lights went up the night came alive with fantastical wonder. The tent was alight with torches scattered all about the stands for added warmth, people slowly trickling in and chattering excitedly to one another.

The performers lined up out back, ready to enter the ring when their time came. The boys ran around yelling about snacks and drinks for sale trying to make a few extra coins. And at exactly 7:00 on the dot the ringmaster floated into the tent and allowing his booming voice to bounce around the walls.

“Welcome friends! We are so pleased that so many of you could come out to see the show tonight and I also hope you will consider telling your friends about the other two shows we hope to amuse you with during our short stay in your fine town. The circus doesn’t come to town just any old day y’know.” He flashed a grin into the crowd of onlookers. “So please, eat, drink, and enjoy what we have to offer you.”

The ringmaster gave a dramatic bow and turned on his heel, his cape fanning out behind him, and rushed out the back of the tent as the “freaks” hurried in behind him to put their odd deformities on full display. Emma heard the ‘oo’s’ and ‘awe’s’ of the crowd as the tall man and his fellow abnormals flaunted their physical differences, people whooping and gawking like they were at a human zoo.

After them was Leonora, a basket of venomous snakes and a flute in hand. Women and children shrieked as the dangerous vipers began to slither around the ring under her command. Then came the trapeze artist/contortionist, the dogs and cart horses turned show ponies, and finally it was time for the twins with their zebras.

Emma was growing just a little bit nervous now, her fingers fidgeting and sending sparks up into the chilly night air. She listened to the sounds of hooves galloping and the cheers that followed as the twins performed their acrobatic stunts on the backs of the running animals. Finally, the pair trotted back out with wide grins on their faces, adrenaline pumping from the ride.

Emma grabbed her torches and scurried into the ring before she had time to hesitate, lighting the ends with her fingertips as she went. Every pair of eyes was now on her, the air stiflingly hot with so many bodies packed into such a small space and the fire dancing around the upper portion of the tent.

Emma took a deep breath and held her torches up to show the crowd, being met with excited cheers that gave her the little boost of confidence that she needed to settle into the performance. She knew her routine by heart now, dancing smoothly around the ring to the joyous sound of applause and screams of mock fear when her torches purposefully strayed into the crowd. A thin stream of fire emitted from her lips as she twirled the lit torches like batons in a complicated ballet of her own making.

The crowd really took off when the young girl took the entire end of one of the blazing sticks into her mouth and ejected a wall of fire 6 feet into the air above her before allowing the smoke to trail from her nostrils like a burnt out dragon. The crowd cheered as loudly as ever, clearly impressed by the miniature fire eater. Emma grinned as she drank in the applause all for her, giving a dramatic bow and lighting up the ring of fire for the lion to jump through before hurrying back outside into the cold air.

“Well done kid.” Phineas gave her a rather enthusiastic pat on the back that made her topple forwards with a short laugh.

“They really loved you.” Chimed in Leonora.

“Indeed they did. Think you can keep that up for 2 more days little miss?” The ringmaster asked hopefully, an excited glint in his beady little eyes.

“Are you saying I have a job?” Emma smirked playfully, reveling in the praise.

“I’m saying if you can get that much satisfaction from the crowd for 2 more shows then I do in fact think we can find a place for you in our midst.” Emma smirked with satisfaction of her own, assuring them that she was up to the task. That had actually been kinda fun.

The rest of the weekend went just as well, the stands equally as full as the first show and the crowd just as boisterous even though most of them had seen the same acts at least twice now. They were clearly desperate for a respite from their mundane everyday lives.

By the time Monday rolled around and it was time to hit the road again Emma was officially a circus freak. They traveled quickly and efficiently, only stopping when absolutely necessary. It could be anywhere from 2-4 days between shows depending on how far they had to travel, weather conditions, supplies, and the health of both humans and animals.

June rolled around and Emma had been with the circus for just about a month now. The heat of summer had begun to set in and the entourage had now made it all the way up to Wales. Initially Emma had been fascinated by the idea of the big city after living on the outskirts of Cornwall her entire life. That was until they had first arrived in London 2 and a half weeks prior and she had begun choking on a viscous layer of smog before they had even entered the city limits.

There were plenty of factories back home putting out the toxic smelling smoke but nothing compared to the city. After only a day Emma couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to wade through the sludge in the streets, constantly breathe in the thick, cancerous fog, or stand listening to the constant chatter of machines, factories, and street brawls. However, these highly populated towns certainly brought in some good business.

They often stayed more than the standard one or two nights in these bigger towns because there was so much more demand and they were able to sell out every night. Even during a financial rough spot it seemed no one could resist a night of frivolity.

Emma had gotten comfortable with her part of the show and knew her routine well, knowing exactly what got the crowd whooping and cheering for more. They had even picked up a few new acts along the way. There was Harry and Larry the twins that had been conjoined at the neck since birth, Julius the juggler who could keep 20 bowling pins in the air while simultaneously riding a unicycle, and then there was Alejandro the clown with his silly shaped balloons and enormous shoes he couldn’t help but trip over.

Their little circus family was growing meaning the more shows and the more money the better. As an official performer Emma received a small stipend from each show but it wasn’t much at all, especially considering she was still the youngest. However, it was enough for the very few essentials a 10 year old needed.

The circus provided food and shelter and anything she couldn’t acquire for herself one of the others were usually willing to help if they could. Phineas and Leonora at least. The others still weren’t too keen on her presence with her being so young and a girl, but Emma thought it really had more to do with the fact she got so much more attention from the crowd than they did. It also didn’t help that the young girl had no problem telling them exactly how she felt about their opinions of her in a way that would make even the most ruthless sailor blush.

But Phineas and Leonora were different. They kept an eye on her, helped her with any problem she might have had, and occasionally made odd remarks behind her back about her being peculiar. Emma didn’t care. She had been called much worse things than peculiar by her own mother and weren’t they all circus freaks? Wasn’t everyone here a bit odd? Anyways they looked after her and were decently nice to her unlike the rest of the crew.

Leonora had even helped to fix Emma’s hair when she had gotten tired of trying to keep the long, golden locks tidy on the road and lopped it all off with a pair of sheep shears. Now she was sporting the short, bouncy bob her father so detested on top of being an outcast. She really was turning into the very thing her parents so despised and quite frankly little Emma could not have cared less.

Circus life certainly wasn’t the most glamorous thing ever what with being on the road all the time and not bathing for days at a time, sleeping in tents where thieves and ruffians could run up on your during the night, and people certainly tend to get on each other’s nerves in such close quarters but she was free.

Free from the fear. Free from the hatred and abuse. Here she could be herself and no one ran screaming or called her a demon from hell simply for existing. Here she was rewarded for her gift and that was what Emma had finally begun to think of it as, a gift rather than a curse.

Tonight was the first show in Wales and to no one’s surprise it was completely sold out. The boys ran around keeping anyone from trying to sneak in for free while the performers lined up in their usual order of go out back.

Emma absentmindedly patted one of the zebras as she waited on the ringmaster to give his customary opening speech to the crowd welcoming them and thanking them for coming out. As the performers filed one by one into the tent the crowd grew louder and the gaggle of street kids trying to catch a glimpse of the magic within grew larger. Emma’s turn came and she waltzed in already twirling her torches above her head and around her middle, falling into the familiar rhythm encouraged by the steady supply of applause.

Once the show had concluded and the group had taken their final bow everyone began to disperse for the evening. In the chaos between performers going one way and the audience going the other, a woman managed to push her way in front of Emma and corner her back behind the main tent.

Emma blinked up at her in surprise. With her perfectly curled light blonde hair, cherry red lipstick, and crisp, pristine business outfit she looked more like someone on the cover of a women’s rights pamphlet than a factory girl of housewife.

“That was quite the show.” The woman gave her a wide grin, showing off her abnormally perfect teeth. “Fire eating is an unusual choice for someone your age.”

“Guess I’m just that good.” Emma didn’t like this woman. Although she wasn’t totally sure why but something about her sugary sweet voice and the way she managed to talk down to the younger girl while simultaneously trying to make it sound as if she was speaking to an equal irked her.

“You are indeed.” The woman responded cryptically. “And would I be correct in assuming that spectacular ability of yours wasn’t learned but came naturally?”

Emma narrowed her eyes at the other woman, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up in warning.

“Who exactly are you Miss?”

“Who I am isn’t important. What is important is that I know who you are, or rather, what you are. And I know many more people just like you.” Emma gaped at her, too stunned to speak for a long while.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” She didn’t like where this conversation was headed and something told her not to divulge any unnecessary information. The uptight woman just let out a low chuckle.

“Suit yourself. But I’m not here to accuse you of something we both know you possess whether you wish to admit its existence or not. No. I am here to offer you a job. A job with people that have the same explosive talent as yourself and with others whose abilities range as far and wide as you could possibly imagine. I can offer you better wages and companionship with others as talented as yourself. All you have to do is come and work for me.” The woman gave Emma another of her pearly white smiles, allowing her a moment to think it over.

And Emma did, think it over that is. This woman clearly knew something she didn’t and Emma wouldn’t pretend that she wasn’t at all curious what it was. As loathe as she was to admit it she really considered the possibility of following this stranger if it meant understanding more about her abnormal abilities. However, in the end her gut feeling was stronger than her desire for insight. There was something off about all of this and Emma may have been young but she wasn’t stupid enough to wander off with a sketchy stranger.

“No thank you Miss.” The younger girl stated blandly, meeting the cold, dead eyes of the woman whose cheery facade cracked ever so slightly at the denial of her request.

“Well.. you will be giving up the chance to learn more about what you’re capable of and the chance to become someone other than a circus freak. Wouldn’t you like to get away from all this?” She blundered on, sounding a bit peeved that Emma hadn’t immediately fallen to her knees thanking her for her graciousness.

“I said no thank you.” The little girl bit back again, forcing a thin, fake smile onto her lips. The woman huffed in annoyance, pursing her own lips and appearing to think very carefully about her next words.

“I am offering you more money than you will ever see in your lifetime as a circus freak and the chance to actually do something significant with your extraordinary abilities. Do you not understand how valuable they make you? How many people would kill to be in your shoes and would beg for the opportunity to come and work for me?” The business woman was fast growing angry with Emma’s lack of compliance and whereas upon first glance she had appeared much like a perfectly put together movie star, now Emma began to see through the cracks in the mask she had obviously painstakingly crafted for her con.

This woman wasn’t being at all truthful about what exactly it was she was after and the part about being her abilities making her valuable brought up a red flag in Emma’s mind. She let out an irate huff of her own, making sure the annoying woman had her full attention before addressing her for the last time.

“Well thank you ever so kindly for your more than generous offer of rescuing me from the dreadful life of a circus freak Miss.” Emma spoke sarcastically, every syllable dripping with disdain and disgust. “But, and do listen carefully this time will you, I will not go traipsing into whatever foul little con artist scheme you or your egghead bosses have cooked up and let you ruin my life. I am perfectly capable of finding my own way in this world without you or your people.” Emma’s expression was so nasty that the older woman actually shrunk back from the little girl and had it been a month prior Emma might have accidentally set her ablaze with her unbridled fury.

“I see.” The woman was clearly very annoyed at not getting what she wanted but was also eyeballing the girl’s balled up fists as if she were thinking along the same lines but unsure of exactly how much control a 10 year old could actually possess. Emma expected her to argue again but instead she gave an irate huff of air, turned on her heel and stalked off rather angrily, the younger girl waggling her favorite finger in the air at her turned back and letting out a derisive snort before heading back to the others just glad to finally be rid of her.

* * *

She didn’t remember falling asleep. In fact, she couldn’t remember anything at all after her encounter with the strange woman. However, as her groggy mind worked to comprehend her present situation Emma knew one thing for certain. She was moving.

A thin bed of scratchy hay irritated her skin as the wagon trundled along the bumpy dirt road, muffled voices floating in and out from somewhere outside. Her mouth had been gagged and her hands cuffed behind her, obviously having somehow been drugged.

2 of the hushed voices were deep, masculine. However, there was one higher pitched and dripping with an air of superiority that even in her half conscious state Emma recognized as that abysmal woman from the circus. She had obviously been kidnapped and was currently being taken God only knows where to do God only knows what for some sort of criminal gang.

Emma tugged weakly at her bindings, trying to wriggle around and find something, anything, that could aid her in her escape. She didn’t know exactly how long she had been unconscious but it was already well into the night, the full moon illuminating what little of the passing countryside she could see out the back of the wagon. Emma groaned and felt herself start to succumb to the unknown drugs running through her system once more, relaxing into another dreamless slumber.

It was late into the next afternoon when Emma awoke next, a splitting headache threatening to tear her in two but much more awake this time as the toxins seemed to be leaving her bloodstream. The group had stopped and she could hear the muttered complaints and tell tale clanking sounds of a horse being re-shoed.

The girl tried to wiggle her hands free from their restraints again but the cuffs were exceedingly tight and unyielding. Emma huffed in frustration, yanking uselessly at the rusty chain attaching her cuffs to the wagon. They clearly weren’t taking any chances on her escaping.

As she contemplated how on earth she was going to get out of this one Emma was suddenly pulled from her reverie by the appearance of a curious bird. Emma stopped her fidgeting long enough to meet the obsidian eye of the great blue falcon who had decided to perch itself curiously on the edge of the wagon and was peering at Emma with great interest.

There was something about that strange bird that captured Emma’s undivided attention, and it wasn’t just the oddity of a bird of prey eyeing her up like she was a fat, juicy mouse. There was something.. peculiar about this particular bird and Emma found herself trying to call out to it around the gag in her mouth as it took flight and soared away, disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared.

As the animal disappeared into the forest she let out a sigh and tried to listen in to the conversation outside instead. Someone was still clanking away at an anvil, the other 2 muttering heatedly as if arguing but Emma was unable to make out the exact words exchanged.

Then came the sound of another set of scuffling footsteps from the other side of the wagon as if someone was hurrying towards them out of the woods. Emma lifted her head up out of the hay just as someone new appeared in front of her.

It was a woman. She appeared relatively young with jet black hair pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck, small spectacles hovering on the bridge of her nose, and she was wearing a rather dated Victorian era dress. Upon first glance Emma could tell she was a stern, matriarchal woman but there was also an air of maternal kindness that she had never seen in her own mother. There was also something slightly familiar about the way the woman looked at her even though Emma knew for a fact that they had never met before.

“I am going to get you out of here ok?” The woman whispered, fiddling with the chains keeping Emma attached to the wagon as quietly as she could.

Her kidnappers were still engrossed in their argument and paid no heed to the subtle clanking noises coming from the back of their wagon. The woman huffed in annoyance when the old chains did not yield, a look of concentrated thinking passing across her face.

“I will be right back.” She gave Emma a look that said ‘I will not leave you’ before striding off around to where the others were and she could hear her speaking animatedly to them.

“Excuse me.”

“Who are you? Wha d’ya want?” One of the men asked haughtily.

“Who I am is of no importance. What is, however, are those keys hanging off your belt loop.”

“She’s a bird.” The woman kidnapper snarled.

Emma was confused by that proclamation. A bird? Was that some sort of group the woman was affiliated with? Emma’s thoughts inadvertently strayed to the blue falcon with the intelligent eyes that had visited her earlier. She couldn’t actually be a bird. That was completely impossible. But weren’t her own fire wielding abilities supposed to be just as impossible?

There was a bit of commotion, scuffling and shouts of confusion. Emma wasn’t sure what she had done or how she had managed to overpower 3 people while wearing a petticoat but the strange woman had reappeared just as quickly as she had gone holding a set of keys.

As soon as she was free Emma jumped from the back of the wagon, still wobbly on her feet from the drugs. As she stumbled after this new stranger they passed right by her band of kidnappers who paid them absolutely no mind to Emma’s utter confusion, the 2 men and their woman companion looking strangely discombobulated as if they couldn’t quite remember what they had been doing in the middle of the woods with a wagon.

Emma scurried along behind the quick paced older woman hoping she knew where they were and potentially how to get back to where her other traveling companions were surely wondering what had become of her by now.

“Excuse me miss but could you tell me how to get back to Newport?” She questioned.

“If that is what you wish. But first I would like to ask you a few questions.” The woman spoke with the air of a school teacher, subtly glancing back at Emma without slowing her stride. Emma was instantly put on alert, feeling particularly untrusting after her little kidnapping adventure. The woman obviously sensed her insecurity and quickly backtracked so as not to scare her into running away.

“Let me first start by introducing myself. I am headmistress Peregrine, or you may call me Miss Peregrine as you are not currently my ward.” Emma furrowed her brow at the way she said ‘not currently her ward’.

“Peregrine? Like the bird?” She asked, again thinking back to the bright blue falcon that had visited her barely a minuet before this woman showed up claiming she possessed the same name.

“Yes. I am going to go ahead and presume that you do not know what you are?”

“I’m sorry? What I am?”

“You can do things others cannot. You are a fire starter if I am correct. You can summon and manipulate fire with nothing but your hands?” Emma was becoming more confused by the minuet and this interaction with a strange woman admitting her interest in the other girl’s magical abilities was looking more and more like the previous interaction by the minuet. She was not getting kidnapped again.

“If you’re here to offer me a job like they did I’m still not interested.” Emma bristled, her palms heating up as she contemplated whether her chances of running or fighting were better in this instant.

“No, I am not here to offer you a job. And neither were they. Not really. They were going to take you back to their domain and sell you to the highest bidder, someone who would use you for your fire wielding abilities.” Miss Peregrine had slowed down to allow the younger girl to catch up, giving her a slightly sympathetic look.

“They were going to sell me? How do you know all of this?”

“Because it is my duty. I am what is called an ymbryne. In our world ymbrynes are tasked with the care of children such as yourself. Special children with special abilities. We are peculiars.” That rang a bell in Emma’s muddled brain. Phineas and Leonora had called her peculiar behind her back at times. Could they have meant something other than the dictionary definition of the word?

“Peculiar.” Emma repeated softly, allowing the word to sink in and feel what it really meant. Something about it felt.. right.

“You said that we are peculiars. Does that mean you can do something others can’t miss?”

“Yes. As an ymbryne I am able to manipulate time, creating time loops for the safety of our kind, removing small snippets of a person’s memory as I did with those 3 snatchers, and as you saw I can also take the form of my namesake.” Emma nodded slowly as she listened, taking in the information as best she could.

“So that really was you earlier? The big, blue falcon?”

“That is correct. Much easier to get around inconspicuously in bird form. Although it is definitely the least interesting part of my ability. Now, I can either point you back towards the circus and you can continue running from dangers both known and unknown or you can come with me back to the island of Cairnholm and I can properly introduce you to the peculiar world.”

“Cairnholm? I’ve never even heard of that island before.” Emma hesitated, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought about her decision, Miss Peregrine waiting patiently.

“You really aren’t going to sell me?” She asked one last time, wary eyes cutting sideways towards the older woman. Miss Peregrine let out a short laugh but gave her a reassuring look.

“No. You have my word that I will not sell you. All I wish to do is offer you safety, companionship with other peculiar children, and a more comfortable life.” Miss Peregrine sounded sincere and Emma found herself wanting to trust her. Worst case scenario she ran away and found the circus again. Best case scenario she finally finds a family that wants her. She finally nodded her acceptance, falling into step beside the other woman as they marched down the long dirt road towards the sea.

* * *

The trip to the island of Cairnholm was wholly uneventful and the pair arrived within a few short days. Emma wasn’t particularly impressed by the sleepy little village that reminded her so much of Cornwall but it was certainly safe as Miss Peregrine had said, secluded out here in the middle of the ocean with only one little ferry to charter people between it and the mainland once a month. On their journey to the island the matriarch had given Emma much more insight into the world of peculiardom and Emma now not only believed her but found she was rather excited to meet others like her.

No one paid them any attention as they traipsed silently through town and Emma knew they were probably used to seeing new children come through every now and again as Miss Peregrine’s home for peculiar children had been under the disguise of an ordinary orphanage during the war. They believed she was nothing but another poor unfortunate child with no place to call home which was not entirely inaccurate.

As the pair grew closer to the big house stop the hill Emma found herself grinning at the blatantly obvious peculiar children running amok in the front garden, unusual talents on full display while in the safety of their found family.

“Let’s get you settled in and then you can meet everyone. They will all be delighted to see a fresh face and hear new stories.” Miss Peregrine had seen the little girl’s face light up at finally finding others like herself and a warm smile of her own toyed at the corners of her lips. The little fire eater was going to fit right in.

The End

[monkeerotica]

can you do a fic featuring soft age reg/age play with cgs mike and peter and littles micky and davy?

Hello, Anon! I hope this fic encapsulates what you were looking for. -Author 🪐

the wisdom of a child

Peter switched the television off. A chorus of whining erupted from the couch. 

“How about we go get some fresh air? It’s a beautiful day,” he offered.

“I was watching that!” cried Micky. He slapped his hands against the cushions in frustration. 

“Saturday morning cartoons are long since over,” Peter said gently, “The afternoon stuff is no good anyways, not until about right after dinner.”

“I haven’t finished my breakfast,” Davy protested, popping another Cheerio into his mouth. He was about halfway through a small, dry bowl. 

“We’ll have a picnic on the beach, then.” Peter smiled. “Come on. Last one to change into their swimsuit and run down to the surf - being very careful on the staircase -” he added quickly, as Micky and Davy’s ears perked up, sensing a challenge, “Last one on the beach is a rotten egg.”

They were off like a shot, nearly barreling Mike over as he loitered by the stairs. 

“Jees-” he yelped, then cast a quick glance at Peter. “Uh, -z. Watch where you’re going.”

They were long gone by the time he said it.

—

Micky tugged on Mike’s sleeve. They were sitting on a picnic blanket on the sand, watching Peter and Davy splash around in the water.

“Wanna know something?” Micky asked.

“Sure, Mick.”

“We’re at low tide, right now. I’ve been measuring. If it was high tide, our feet would be wet, and Peter and Davy would be underwater.” Micky grinned. He’d been scribbling a lot in a notebook recently - Mike guessed it must have been a tide log.

“That’s good to know,” Mike nodded. “Don’t want to be caught far out when it’s coming in.”

“Yeah.” Micky paused for a moment. “Can I tell you something? Another thing.”

“Why not?” Mike caught himself - he’d sounded a bit dry and uninterested, although he didn’t mean it. “Yeah, tell me.”

“It’s not the lowest tide we get. We’re in a mixed semidiurnal tide zone. That means we get high and low tides twice a day and they’re different heights.” Micky made sure Mike was paying attention. “So the low tide right now isn’t as low as the low tide we get around midnight. And the next high tide we get is going to be the highest. It comes up so close to the house sometimes Davy gets spooked.”

“Can’t blame him,” Mike laughed. 

“I don’t get scared though, because I know it’s going to go right back out again in a few hours.” Micky looked a little smug.

“Where’d you learn all this?” Mike asked. He dug his toes into the sand. Underneath the top layer, warmed to nearly too-hot by the midday sun, there was a discernible dampness – from the last high tide, he supposed.

“The library.” Micky beamed. “Wanna know something else?”

“Hey, kid, I really do–” Mike pushed himself to his feet. “I gotta get dinner sorted. Why don’t’cha tell Peter.”

“Oh.” Micky’s face fell. “I already told him.” He paused for a moment, then lit up. “I know! I'll quiz him on it. And if he doesn’t remember, I’ll tell him again.” 

Micky scrambled up and took off towards the waves. Mike chuckled to himself and made his way back towards the house.

—

Mike was just closing the front door behind him – he’d nipped downtown to grab takeout, because it was Saturday and as long as they had a little spare change about, nothing in the world could make him cook dinner on a Saturday – when Peter and the boys were coming inside, toweling off and hanging their swim trunks to dry over the railing. They ran upstairs to change and were back down in a jiffy.

“What’s for dinner?” Davy sniffed hopefully. “I’m starving.”

“Maybe if you’d had a little more breakfast…” Peter huffed, good-naturedly. 

“Ran down to that good Chinese place,” Mike said as he emptied the paper bag onto the kitchen counter. “You know, the one that throws in a few egg rolls for free if we remind them what a good help we were that one time.”

Davy and Micky howled with joy. 

“General Tso’s?” Peter asked.

“No, his name is– oh, yeah, I got some of that.” Mike pointed at the box. “And some noodles, and rice, and–”

Davy was suddenly at his side. “Nuggets? Did you get–”

Mike was startled. “Sneaking up on me– go wash your hands.” Davy pouted. “Yeah, I got nuggets.”

“Can I try yours and Peter’s chicken stuff?” Micky was seated and leaning over the table, resting heavily on his elbows. 

“It’s too spicy for you,” Peter reminded him. 

“No, I think I like it.” Micky insisted. “And it smells so good.”

“Don’t say you weren’t warned.” Mike sighed, but handed off a fork with a piece of chicken coated in a deep red sauce. 

Micky stuck the whole thing in his mouth. He chewed, made a face, swallowed forcefully, and then coughed. “I don’t like it,” he croaked. “Can I have a glass of milk?”

[devinescribe]

Better to Run

Ch.12 of “My Sunshine” [TreechxReader]

Warnings: swearing and slightly suggestive content. He reads some of your poetry. You dug your grave bbg 🤷‍♀️

Some small cuts and bruises. He wasn't seriously hurt which was a good thing.

You held his hand as they redid the stitches on his back.

"See with pain meds this isn't that bad," he laughed, squeezing your hand.

You smiled up at him, taking a small towel and wetting it, gently scrubbing off the dirt and dried blood off of his face.

He smiled up at you.

They had him change out of his clothes and into some other more comfortable clothing. You took his clothes and he frowned.

"I don't want them to-"

"I'll take them home tonight and wash them. I'll give them to you tomorrow morning... before leavin'," you said with a smile.

"Ms. L/N... Dean Highbottom would like to speak to you. Privately."

——

"Do you know what these are?" He asked, pointing at the two items on the table.

"A makeup compact and a handkerchief? I'm confused... have I don't something wrong?" You asked, looking at him.

He sighed, it sounded relieved.

"No, sweet child, you have not... Coriolanus however..."

"Coryo? What did he do? What do those have to do with him?" You questioned.

Now that he mentioned it, you had not seen Coriolanus nor Lucy Gray. You would have thought he would be celebrating his victory much like you did.

"This... is Coriolanus's mother's compact.... And this is his father's handkerchief. He used them to cheat."

Cheat?

"I saw what you did to the water do you think I'm stupid?"

The words rang in your head. He cheated... Lucy Gray cheated.

"How?" That was the only word that came out of your mouth.

"The snakes... only attack those whose scent they are not familiar with. Lucy Gray touched that. That's why the snakes did not attack her. Snow slipped it into their tank. Her singing didn't calm them. The compact... he must have given her the idea to put in some rat poison from the zoo in there. She says it was her idea. That he had nothing to do with it. I know the Snows. And I know how much one manipulated by them will do to protect them."

Your eyes widened.

Dill.

Wovey.

Reaper.

They were all killed by the rat poison.

The way she tried to use the snake against Treech popped into your head.

"This makes you the true victor and owner of the Plinth Prize..." he mused, walking around the room. "But someone... a little birdie sang to me... that you were thinking of leaving. Going back home. Y/N, I highly implore that you stay here and continue your education. You are a very bright young lady you could do so much good here as a politician-"

He told. Coriolanus Snow had told on you. He was a liar. A liar. A cheater. A liar. You hated liars more than anything.

"Dean Highbottom... I truly appreciate that but... I'm not happy here. I don't want to continue my education here in the Capitol where they are telling us that killing kids is a good thing because of a war. I know you made the games yet, I... I do not like them. I do not want to be a politician when the people want someone who is willing to keep them going. I... I want to go home."

There was a silence in the room.

"You really do remind me so much of her," he whispered.

"Who?"

"His mother. She was kind. Too kind and he broke her down... the games... yes I fashioned them. In a drunken stupor when Dr.Gaul had given the class an assignment to create something to punish the districts. When I woke up I... I asked Cassius for the papers so I could rip them up. Destroy them. They were horrible... he had put both of our names on it and turned it in. Ever since then, she's kept me doing them... I understand how you feel. So I'm willing to help you."

You looked up in shock at everything he said. He didn't like the games either? He was friends with Snow's dad?

"Tomorrow morning they are sending your boy back. Tomorrow morning, you'll leave too I'm assuming?" He questioned.

You nodded, playing with the necklace.

"Alright... if that is truly what you want."

One question was still on your mind.

"Where's Coryo? Lucy Gray? What is going to happen to them?" You nervously asked. You were upset with them but that didn't mean they deserved to be hurt.

"Lucy Gray was sent back home. She's safe. Coriolanus is expected to join the peacekeepers tomorrow morning. Sejanus... wanted to go with...followed suit, that boy... he better be careful. I set up for him to be sent to six... but something tells me he will go to twelve to look for his songbird... that girl is lucky she survived him. He thinks he can trap her. Keep her in a cage and make her sing for him when he pleases... just like his father," Highbottom sat in the chair across from you. "He will come back. And he will come back with a hatred for those who know about what happened. For your sake... and for Treech's... act like you do not know about his cheating."

——

You went back to the room he was in and whispered everything to him.

His eyes narrowed.

"I saw her with that compact.... I should have called it out..." he whispered, looking down.

"I'm sorry... I should have never asked you to spare Lucy Gray.... She tried to hurt you..." you mumble, grabbing his hands. While you were gone he must have been allowed to take a shower because all the dirt and grime was off, and his hair looked more in it's natural soft curly state.

"Don't worry... you thought you were savin' me by having that alliance..." he said, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it.

"I get to go home with you... I'm packing tonight. And I'm takin' just enough of my things and money to get by without seeming suspicious. Dean Highbottom was able to somehow... find an old cabin in the woods. We can live there... we... um I-" you stammered, meaning to say I, but obviously you wanted nothing more than for you two to be a 'we'.

He blushed and looked into your eyes.

"We huh? I'd like that," he said, quickly adding, "Only if you want that to I mean-"

You pressed a quick peck to his lips.

He smiled and looked at you, lovestruck.

"Well sunshine... that's one way to shut me up."

——

Later, you were both allowed to leave the hospital. You were told that he needed to stay with you, not leaving your sight, which was no problem.

There was a party for the victors, but you didn't want to go. You wanted to spend a quiet night in. So, instead of taking Treech to go to a party that neither of you wanted to go, you took him to your house.

Your father was still out... and your mother was probably still staring out the window.

You took him through the stupidly ornate house, stopping quickly by the laundry room, and finally into your room.

He was mesmerized by the room.

Although you refused to have any extravagant decorations, you guessed the room might have some things you wouldn't find back in seven.

"You never change do you?" He whispered.

"What do you mean?" You asked, following him as he stepped to the window.

His fingers traced the window sill, and his smile widened.

—-

He watched as you used a new stain you'd taken from the factory.

"How did you get that? Seems like something we'd use to stain anything sent to the Capitol," he asked.

It was a green color, and you were using a small paint brush to paint little vines and leaves around the edge of his window.

"Uh... snuck in."

"Oh? Didn't know you had it you," he laughed.

"Hey, I-... I can break the rules every once in a while," you huffed, embarrassed.

"Ok, ok... trouble maker," he teased.

——

He turned to face you with a bright smile. You sighed happily, and took his hands in yours.

"I am going to take a bath... everything hurts from sleeping on the floor," you mumbled kissing his hand.

"Oh, it hurts does it princess?" He teased, spinning you around. "Oh how will you ever survive seven after all this luxury."

You both started laughing and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"The biggest luxury I have is to be by your side. I have not had it in years and that was a hard one to live without," you whispered, brushing his hair out of his face.

He leaned his face on your palm and smiled, "Such a poetic way of speaking, Sunshine."

Your eyes lit up as he mentioned the word poetic. You let him go and opened up a neatly organized drawer of letters and loose parchment. Then you opened another filled with journals.

"Well how about while I take a bath... you read those," you smiled, looking through your neatly organized basket of vinyls, selecting one to play. "Once it's done could you flip it? And then after that side is done you can pick one to play if I am not out yet."

He stared at the record player in admiration. He hadn't seen one for years. Most people had radios. Radios were somehow cheaper than a record player. But he had always admired the sound of one.

"Well, if you need anything just walk in," you smiled, going through the door into your bathroom.

He delicately placed the record on the turntable, placing the needle softly, and turning it on.

He heard you humming the music in the bathroom. The water was running so he assumed you were drawing up a bath.

He then went to go read one of the letters before you came out of the bathroom in a robe.

"Do you... want to join?"

His face exploded in a fiery red blush at your words.

"I don't mean it like that!" You whisper yelled. "Pervert."

You giggled softly at this and his reaction.

"I'm sorry you-I- im-..." he stammered unable to get his words out.

"You can just say no silly. I was just askin' cause you mentioned your body hurtin' too," you explained, quietly going back to the bathroom.

This time you left the door open a crack in case he needed something. He let out a sigh and rubbed his head.

"That was embarrassing for me... let's see what we have here..." he mumbled, looking through the notebooks, deciding it was easier to read through them first.

——

He could not have been more wrong.

You, much like him, wrote poetry. Some sweet, lovesick things.

And then there were things that were very scandalous.

He blushed as he read through the poems meant for him.

He heard you come out of the bathroom and he smirked in your direction.

"I didn't know you thought about me so much."

[iwantjellyfsh]

Recent

I've recently read heroes come back by DairyFarmer on ao3 and it's amazing, spectacular, exquisite, devious, gorgeous ect ect. (warning that a large portion of their other fics have explicit content such as psudo sibling incest and underage (not hero's come back)). Uchiha Sasuke as Tim Drake (it's not a very long fic but the "identity crisis" bookmark has 59 pages of similar stuff...)

This has given me an itch, my own writing ability is sporadic at best but some more ideas:

Itachi as Tim, he doesn't have a brother so he's broody mc broody pants and when he see's Mr. Dark Knight himself he adopts Bruce on sight (so sasuke, so anger, it's adorable). I personally think it'd be funnier to have it be like 10 year old Tim ( or age before Jason dies) adopting 40 year old Bruce Wayne. Itachi will let this be known to. He will shower my boy in love and praise (head pats when he finishes a case and everyone is deeply disturbed, who let this obsessive child off its leash?). THEN when Jason falls he either makes Bruce the most horrible version of himself (ie k!ll ppl and stuff cause thats normal) like indoctrinate the fuck out of this grown ass man (ROOT conditioning anyone?) or he'll just stare at Bruce disappointedly until he folds (like the wet paper towel he is). Blah Blah... Itachi thinks Red Hood is Edo Tensei-ed and the "beat that little Robin replacement to the ground" turns into "why is this eleven year old beating my ass and preaching about free will". And just meeting Damian.

Itachi cannot take this, big brood and baby brood is to much he's going to melt into a puddle of goop. A major plotline could be Itachi just casually mentioning that he'll probably die at like twenty because diseases cross over too ig or BLIND TIM org. It's karma (overusing mangekyo in past life) but everyone's like HOW DO YOU MOVE cause ninja. So it could be Bruce parenting Itachi back because oh no I've grown attached to the little stalker and trying to be super duper nice and accomadating towards Itachi's blindness when it just... doesn't affect him at all?

Steph (probably): So what do your eyes look like behind the mask?

Tim (deadpan): The same

Steph: ???

Tim (looking directly into Stephs eyes): I'm blind

(this was funnier in my head)

______________________________________________________________

That was my most comprehensive one but I raise you:

Timto joining Joker (either pretending the Joker Jr. thing worked OR the electro shocks just made him Tobi). Either way it's either best friends or on sight for those two.

Shim knows that Bruce is Batman ect ect and Alfred finds out Shim knows (or someone related to the batfamily... maybe one of the sirens? Could totally picture Selina bugging him until he fixes that man). And Shikamaru is the laziest man Robin ever that the exasperation Bruce feels stops the greif momentarily (and he has Shim's hero name be "Sloth" as a joke and it just sticks). Shim would like to speak to the manager about how he can't cloud watch because the whole fucking sky is a cloud. Steph is giving nostalgia for another loud blond he used to know (esp the bright colors). Jason is fine with Shim because dude obvi don't wanna be here, Dick treats Shim like he's a cat, Cass and him are besties (they just stare at e/o, don't ask), and Damian will cleanse this manor of your lazy filth myself.

Plot points:

B/c Shikamaru having adhd is one of my personal faves, I want the typical "Tim stop pulling all nighters and drinking coffee" but the coffee actually helps slow down his brain so the batfam take it away and get a revenge driven, irrated Shim.

Ra's gives back Tim because he thought he was slick with the spoiling him so he'll join my side but Shika is just a sugar bby at this point. (he hasn't moved in 3 days yall can have him).

When "Tt." meets "Troublesome."

Fighting villains is a drag so Shim just blackmails criminal's into backing off. Like yes Kenny, I know you're life story and if you just stop being so troublesome we'll sort this out.

Can we have blacksmith Tim? I want him making the most outrageous weapons ever and it's like Kiyoshi warrior's from avatar fans or smt.

He is allergic to cats (don't know if it's canon, kinda just popped into my head). This is comedic and everyone teases him for sneezing near Alfred the Cat considering how much of a cat he is

Link to hero's come back b/c I'm a little bitch who almost forgot to add it

[hoperoiselover]

WOOOO NEW KIDDELA CATALOGUE CHAPTER FINALLY!! READ CHAPTER TEN ON AO3 HERE! TW: implied death, religious themes, implied child abuse, mental breakdown(s), Mervin :middle_finger: CHAPTER TEN, FOREVER MEANS NOTHING

The bike sped past the cookie-cutter houses and slowed to make a turn towards a shopping center. The center was small and run down, but in the middle of all the gloomy, closed businesses was a colorful flower shop.

“Oh! Look! It’s still open!” Cesar said, pointing to the shop.

Mark nodded and stopped pedaling. He used his foot to stop the bike from tipping over. Cesar hated this part, sometimes he’d fall off or lose balance, but luckily he was able to hop off the bike without hurting himself.

The two smiled at each other, and Mark got off the bike, now walking with it. He then left his bike outside of the store. He motioned to Cesar that they could go inside the flower shop now. Cesar nodded and followed Mark as he entered the little store.

The ring of a bell filled the store, overlapping the soft music being played through speakers around the business. There were shelves filled with gardening equipment, fertilizer, pots, seeds, and bouquets. Cesar inhaled the smell of the flowers and smiled.

“Just a second!” A short lady with brown blondish hair and light brown eyes made her way over to the two, she smiled softly at the two boys.

“Hi Mrs. Martinez!” Mark smiled up at the woman, her fingers covered with wet dirt.

“Hi there boys! How can I help you today?” Mrs. Martinez smiled. She wiped the dirt off with some paper towels that were on the cluttered counter.

“Queríamos comprar algunas flores para mi papá y la familia de Mark, Por favor, Señora Martinez,” Cesar smiled at the middle aged woman.

Mark looked at Cesar with confusion. He never understood the Spanish language, but he had tried before.

“Ah, you’re going to see your families today?” She smiled softly, yet sadly at the boys.

“Mhm, we brought money this time, so we can pay for it,” Mark nodded and pulled out the dollars and coins from his pocket.

“Aye chico, don’t bother! You can have them for free,” Martinez grinned at the two and grabbed two flower bouquets. One had orange, white, and yellow flowers while the other had pink, purple, and white flowers.

“Really?!” Both boys said, smiling at the woman.

“Of course! You two come here every few weeks and are just so polite, along with how much you still care for your loved ones. I wish you two many blessings,” Mrs. Martinez handed the flowers to both boys and smiled.

“Thank you so much Ma’am!” Mark smelled the flower’s sweet aroma.

“Of course! You two are always welcome here!”

“Gracias!” Cesar smiled and held his bouquets close to his chest.

She nodded at the two boys and watched them leave the store, the little store bell ringing again.

“Betty, were Mark and Cesar the ones who just left? I recognized their voices,” A taller, strawberry blond woman walked in the room. Her cane hit the side of the front desk and she smiled.

“Yes it was my love,” Betty Martinez looked at her wife and smiled softly as she placed her hand on Gigi’s green gardening gloves.

“Oh, those two are the sweetest boys I've ever did met! Did they stop to get flowers for their parents?” Gigi smiled and moved her hand up Betty’s arm, looking in the direction she believed Betty was in.

“Yes dear, they did,” Betty smiled softly at her wife and placed her free hand on Gigi’s.

“Awh, I wish I could’ve talked to ‘em! Cesar loves our flowers, and Mark is just the kindest soul!” Gigi flicked her hand and giggled, her southern accent was very prominent when she spoke.

“I know Gigi, I know…”

The sound of the store’s front door bell ringing could be heard.

“Oh, just on second love,” Betty smiled and got out from behind the counter, and made her way to the new customer, “Hello sir how can I… sir?”

“I forgot how many graves there were….” Mark mumbled clutching the bundle of orange, yellow, and white flowers.

“Y-yeah…. This place still scares me,” Cesar looked around. The gravesite was packed with headstones, some older than his mother. The cemetery was always a dark and gloomy place, even with how many times the two had come here they couldn’t help but feel unsafe.

Cesar shivered, the dead trees made a shrill noise as they rubbed their branches together and the sound of dirt and dead grass crunching under their shoes made him hold his breath. Mark held Cesar’s hand as they walked.

“Can we hurry before it gets dark?” Mark looked at Cesar. His green eyes full of anxiety. Cesar nodded and started to walk faster. The two jumped at every sudden noise, they didn’t want to be here anymore, but they had to give their parents the flowers, the only colors that seem to make their experience less terrifying.

“Oh! Look! I see Mom and Dad over there!” Mark smiled and pointed at a cross headstone, there was a rosary with red beads and a yellow cross hanging from it.

Cesar nodded and started to run for the grave. Mark followed in pursuit.

OPHELIA AND JASON HEATHCLIFF, EVEN THROUGH THE WORSE, THEY MADE THE BEST. 19XX-1998 19XX-1998

Mark suddenly felt his stomach drop as they approached the tomb of his parents. It still hurts to know they haven’t come back, yet Uncle Dave said they will some day, just maybe not for a long time. Mark stared at the engraved words, dirt and grime making it hard to read. Hopefully someday Uncle Dave, Sarah, and himself could clean it up really nice, maybe they’d come back then.

Mark placed the flowers in front of the cross and got on his knees. He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes, his head looking down. Cesar patiently watched behind Mark. He would always say a little prayer for his parents, the three used to do that together before they ate their food and before bedtime. Mark mumbled under his breath and finished his prayer. He looked up at the cross.

“Please listen to me my lord, please. I still look up to you to answer my prayers and wishes. Please protect the ones I love and care about, thank you, amen,” Mark didn’t notice the tears streaming down his face. He prayed one day that they will return, that Sarah can get to know her Mom and Dad, that someday the alternates who have hurt his family will go away, and that his best friend could live freely without fear. Mark wanted everyone to be happy. Was that too much to ask for? Just for some happiness?

“Mar mar?... You okay?” Cesar sat down next to Mark and placed a hand on his shoulder. He rested the purple, pink, and white flowers on his lap as he tried to comfort Mark.

“M-mhm… I just…I-i miss ‘em Ces…” Mark whimpered, "I miss ‘em s-so much!” Mark sobbed, he rubbed his eyes with his hands and hiccupped through his sobs.

Cesar looked at Mark with worry and hugged him, rubbing his back, “H-hey… it’s okay…. I know… I know you miss them… I miss them too… they were very nice people…”

“I w-wan’ Mommy and D-daddy to c-come back! W-why are they t-taking so long!” Mark whined, and hit the ground with his fist. Was he being selfish?

Cesar frowned and hugged Mark slightly tighter, “I know…I’m so sorry Mar mar…”

“S-stop s-saying sorry! You w-weren't involved with their deaths! T-those s-stupid alternates killed them! I-I saw it h-happen!” Mark yelled as he took a sharp inhale of air.

Cesar winced, “I-i…. I know…b-but I still feel bad…”

Mark sniffed and rested his head on Cesar’s shoulder. The two didn’t say anything to each other for a while. Cesar continued to hug and comfort Mark to the best of his ability. He hated seeing his best friend in so much agony.

Mark’s chest slowly began to rise and fall in an even, calm matter and he wipes his tears away.

“I’m sorry Ces… we’ve been here for so long the sun is setting… you haven’t given your dad his flowers yet,” Mark frowned. He felt guilty for wasting Cesar’s time.

“I-it’s okay! We can do it another day!-” Cesar smiled and was cut off by the brunette.

“No! We’re going to see your dad today, right now!” Mark yelled with determination. He stood up and adjusted his backpack on his back, “His grave is over by the gazebo right?”

“M-mark we can do it later I don’t want you getting in trouble-”

“Shush shush! We’re going! Now it's over there right?” Mark picked up the flowers and gave them to Cesar.

“I-...Yeah… Papa is over there…” Cesar held the flowers close and stood up.

“Perfect! Come on!” Mark grabbed Cesar’s hand and started to run for the grave. Cesar yelped as Mark dragged him by the hand.

Mark ran as quickly as his legs could take him. He dogged the decaying trees and smaller headstones. He could hear Cesar’s startled yelps every time he almost hit himself against a tombstone or tree. Cesar’s footwork was as graceful as a newborn deer.

After a bit of running and Cesar almost tripping a few times, Mark saw it. The grave had some wilting flowers on it and it was quite small, not as grand as Mark’s parent’s cross was.

ROMAN TORRES, 19XX-1998

“Ces! Were..here!” Mark smiled as he panted.

Mark looked at Cesar and frowned. Cesar was holding the now bent and smashed flowers. When Mark had been dragging him along Cesar had accidentally squished the flowers trying to protect them.

“Cesar….the flowers…” Mark pointed to them as he regained his breath.

Cesar looked down, petals were missing, the stems bent, the flower bulbs mushed together, “Oh…i’m sorry…” Cesar frowned, he ruined the flowers… Suddenly, he didn’t want to be here anymore.

“Hey,... it’s okay! Look! They are still pretty,” Mark smiled as he patted Cesar’s shoulder.

Cesar sighed and went over to the simplistic grave. He picked up the wilted flowers and placed the new ones. Cesar used his hand to wipe the dirt off the tombstone. He frowned. Papa deserved a better burial, funeral, and grave… How dare his mother show disrespect to his papa even after death… Cesar couldn’t help but feel angry. His chest welled up with bottled up frustration. Cesar took a deep breath; he shouldn't be angry at his Mama, nor at his Papa. He loved them too much.

“Hola Papa….um… I… I really miss you… um… I still have your jacket!...Mark kept it safe for me… I wish you could meet him… I think you two would like each other… I-i’m sure Mama misses you too!... …Te amo Papa…i’m sorry I don’t know what else to say…” Cesar sighed, his chest ached and he felt tired. Every word that came from his mouth made his body feel heavy. He wanted to say more, but what was the point when the person he was trying to talk to could not listen.

Cesar looked down at his father’s grave, tears silently poured down the sides of his face. How he longed for those arms again. To hold him and to comfort him. Cesar grabbed his father’s jacket’s sleeve, and he winced.

“...Ces…,” Mark frowned sadly. He went over to Cesar and hugged him close.

“Will you stay?” Cesar asked Mark, continuing to look at the dirty headstone. His voice quiet and monotone.

“What?”

“Could you stay…with me… forever?....Please?”

“Ces,... I’m not going anywhere…I promise you,...I’ll stay, forever, right here, next to you…”

Cesar softly squeezed the younger, yet taller boy. He let out a shaky breath and sniffed. Cesar’s tears were making Mark’s light gray hoodie darken. Mark returned the squeeze. No matter what happens, Mark promises to never leave Cesar’s side… “I’ll never leave…you’re my best friend..” Mark smiled at the smaller boy.

“Mm..Thank you…t-thank you so much, Mark,” Cesar smiled softly and took a deep breath.

“You’re welcome…”

“Thank you Eliana for the food,” Adam held a small bowl in his hands, its rough, plastic texture made him cringe when he rubbed his fingers against it.

“What do I keep on telling you, Adds! Momma makes the best food ever!” Jonah smiled and giggled, he was bouncing up and down as he ran across the kitchen and dining room. He was helping his mother clean the kitchen.

Eliana smiled softly and chuckled, “It’s no problem chico, and thank you Jo. I appreciate it.

Jonah smiled at Eliana and smiled as she took the bowl from Adam and washed it.

“I need you two in Jonah’s room before eight o’ clock alright? I don’t want Pops to see Adam okay?” Eliana said as she finished washing the dishes, draining the water from the sink. She looked at the clock on the wall, seven forty two P.M.

“Okay, Momma!” Jonah smiled, “Oh! Adam! Do you want to continue to play what we were before?”

“Oh,...Okay!” Adam grinned, as he fixed his hair. The lamb hoodie was flattening his curls.

“Aye! Make sure to brush your teeth! I don’t need you to have a trip to the dentist this summer!” Eliana scowled playfully.

“Ughhhhh fine!” Jonah groaned and walked to the bathroom, Adam followed Jonah.

Eliana sighed to herself as she dried her hands with a kitchen towel. She had been dreading night time to arrive. Mervin should be on his way home now, unless he was out doing god knows what. Eliana growled under her breath. Fucking Mervin, ditching his job as a father and going out a getting drunk or whatever and leaving all the work to her, what an asshole.

Eliana could hear the sounds of giggling and the pitter patter of little feet running against the wood floors, followed by a door being shut closed. She smiled softly to herself before frowning. God, what was Mervin going to say when he got home. What was he going to do when he realized the money from their account had gone down. She knew she couldn’t hide it from him. Eliana knew that Mervin was a dick, but he wasn’t a dumbass, sometimes.

She took a deep breath and began to sweep the floors. Even though the floors were perfectly fine, there was something about always having something to do that Eliana found comfort with. She couldn’t sit down and just relax, there were too many things to get done, along with Mervin’s stupidly high expectations, nothing was good enough for the greedy bastard. Just thinking about Mervin made Eliana’s blood boil. Her movements when sweeping got more aggressive. She wanted to scream, tear out her hair as if that would get rid of all the problems in her life. Eliana huffed and looked at the clock again, seven forty nine P.M. To Eliana time wasn’t moving fast enough. It was like the sound of the clock ticking down to certain doom was taunting her, tick…..tock……tick ... .tock…. Eliana took another deep breath, sweat dripping down her forehead. She tapped the broom’s handle with her nail. Her heart beating rapidly and the clock’s ticking filling her brain. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Eliana shut her eyes and snapped her neck in the direction of the clock. Her eyes full of rage and annoyance.

“Stupid fucking clock…” Eliana spat and rolled her eyes as she continued to sweep. When she finally left her guard down and calmed down a tad, the front door opened and was slammed closed.

Eliana jumped and looked at the man now standing in the kitchen.

“Eliana. You got some fucking explaining to do.” END OF CHAPTER TEN, FOREVER MEANS NOTHING.

[oneinathousand]

When I was little, I’m talking under the age of ten, I was a big fan of the Garfield series, so one time I wrote a fan letter addressed to Jim Davis, and though I don’t remember what I wrote about or whether it was typed or hand-written, I had it sent to Paws Inc. with my parents’ help.

Afterwards, I received a card with Davis’s name signed on there, but being the naive child I was, I decided to make the card “pretty” since it was mostly blank, but this involved me smearing lipstick of different colors onto it. My parents were annoyed and a little baffled, so I tried to fix it by scrubbing the lipstick off with a wet towel, but that just made some of the paper start to peel off. Every day when I look up at the corkboard on my wall, I’m reminded of my youthful follies:

(And yeah I also stuck a thumbtack into the paper cause it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that you generally don’t have to make a hole through a paper to get it to stick to a wall with a tack)

When I wrote another fan letter, this time addressed to Mort Walker, the creator of the comic Beetle Bailey, shortly thereafter and received an old post card with a note from him on the back (I also don’t remember what I wrote about for that one except I definitely would have mentioned that my dad and grandpa were fans as well), I made sure not to repeat my mistake and instead kept it in a very tasteful frame.

(Cropped out my personal info on the second pic below)

[waitingformyfavoritesongs]

4:37 am pt 21 may 2023 Sunday

He looks like a tall young white man 👨 probably 24/25 with brown ?hair. NASA backpack 🎒. He is unrelentingly filling me with lemon 🍋 juice 🧃 and hitting my organs with acid. 4:39 am pt I don’t have much bones 🦴 left and he made the bones 🦴 in my feet 🦶 soft. 4:40 am pt I’m scared 😱 he’s going to keep taking my bones 🦴 strength until I can no longer stand. I have asked already for him to end my suffering by cutting off my head. He would rather let me suffer. I told him if his wife knew his opinions and how he treated me he would forever ♾ be in the dog 🐶 house 🏠 and she should want to run 🏃🏻‍♀️ for the hills. 4:42 am pt

4:43 am pt he walks with conceit and arrogance. 4:43 am pt I cry 😭 from his hands.

6:24 am pt I felt and heard liquid drain from inside my intestines. 😞😖😭 pain butt. I went to the bathroom 🚽 and wet pieces came out and when I looked in the toilet 🚽 it looked like lemon 🍋 juice 🧃. So I probably have lemon 🍋 juice 🧃 in my body. 😞😖😭🥺😱😰😭 this is too much. I don’t trust them! 6:28 am pdt

8:23 am pt there’s more than one of them. Probably take turns.

9:28 am pt they burn away my anus w/ acid. 😖😭 it felt awkward like it’s in the wrong spot on my body and there’s nothing left to burn 🔥 away but they keep doing it. Room 309? Last month I found steak 🥩 knives 🔪 positioned on the floor near a plastic cup (see you Uriah) cerrated knives 🔪 looked like legs 🦵 to the plastic transparent body. Showing that symbolically they are going to cut away my bones 🦴 and they started doing that to my thigh bone 🦴 scalloped fashion. 9:33 am pt they made my back look 👀 strange. (Left shoulder bone 🦴 pain 9:33 am). They also put towels on the floor in the hallway. This morning they came out and laughed joyfully. 9:34 am pt at least 3 times in the last two weeks? They made me go diarrhea little by little making me waste toilet 🚽 paper. I didn’t realize until it was too late that I filled the toilet 🚽 with too much tp 🧻 and my mom insisted she unclog the toilet 🚽 herself. 9:36 am pt

9:40 am pt sometime in the last 6 years I read an article about a woman 👩🏼 who ran away from home 🏠 she changed her name. She ran away Bcz she was raped a lot by a man. She suspects her mother knew after all those years. If child 🧒 rape is real then some victims are not known Bcz of situations like that. 9:43 am pt

9:44 am pt demon angels and demon lord protect rapists by psychologically toying with the tortured victims. 9:45 am pt they allow time to obscure truths. 9:45 am pt

10:04 am pt I’m not sure but I think 💭 they used my mom’s pumice on the back of my lower leg the foot 🦶 area I think 💭 it’s not supposed to be used on that part. Makes me think 💭 they like to torture me. They have been pulling up the sides my nails. They’re using a lot of psychology to make me initially excuse it even though there were signs 🪧 I cried and don’t remember crying 😭 in 2022. Usually I holler out in pain. I used to have to deal with pain daily from my eczema and braces 😬 so I think 💭 I got accostumed to the pain that I wouldn’t cry 😭 every time I felt pain. 10:11 am pt

10:12 am pt I honestly don’t see the point in the reasons that they gave me to forgive it anymore. All I see are psychologically games to make me think 💭 they aren’t villains 🦹‍♂️ when they are. 10:13 am pt

10:33 am pt they seem to think that Scott was okay 👌 to do what he did to me and that I was the hypocrite. They think it’s okay to pressure women into s*x b4 married. They think it’s okay 👌 for a guy to force a woman to have unprotected s*x. They think it’s okay 👌 for men to treat women like whores and disregard their obstacles psychologically and that it’s abnormal to go crazy when a guy rushes a woman to have s*x only to seemingly change their minds shortly after the s*x that they don’t like the woman 👩🏼 anymore. 10:37 am pt I don’t think 💭 they would ever challenge their demon lord boss about what’s wrong or right. So if their boss gives them the job to force child rape for a prolonged period of time I don’t believe that they would challenge it. 10:39 am pt

10:41 am pt if you read all the previous posts you would know that they communicated to me “it’s not death ☠️ “ excuse about child 🧒 rape . But now they changed their defense to say that it’s fake news 📰. 10:43 am pt

I know they are capable of torture. So I don’t think 💭 I should readily believe them. 10:44 am pt

10:53 am pt dark blue truck 🛻 guy is idling it again even though previous 2 times he didn’t. He looks about 50 years old? Black hair tan skin full arm tattoos on left arm. He has a black and white cocker spaniel he has a lady with tan skin and black hair. 10:56 am pt the lemon 🍋 juice 🧃 made it harder to breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️ I think 💭. 10:57 am pt

11:03 am pt they touched me in ways they should not have

11:14 am pt they denied 🙅‍♀️ all personal responsibility and sit pretty and they give signs 🪧 hurt me = f*cked .

11:16 am pt they probably don’t give a sh*t... about any one but themselves. 11:17 am pt

11:20 am pt fox 🦊 news 📰 said it’s child abuse to commit to trans decisions at that age. If demon angels are really playing chemistry ⚛️ brain 🧠 experiments 🧪 on unborn children 👶 to make them believe that they are born the wrong s*x when they’re not, seems f*cked up to me! No limits I guess! Fake 📰 news!????? What is the excuse this time? 11:23 am pt

Trying to remember specific examples that wasn’t a demon lord angel 😇 forced thing for evil 🦹‍♂️ lips 👄. 12 pmpt from my dad or mom. My sister has 2 boys.

12:07?pm pt demon lord incubus likes torture. The voice at the top of the organization determines what is allowed. 12:08 pmpt

12:09 pm pt he likes to toy 🧸 with people’s feelings for the economy. Hypothesis. He is not trying to like 👍 anyone. He almost burned me to death ☠️ several times. I never looked to him as a potential love 💗 interest until he presented it himself. In 2013 I tried to see if our Chinese astrological signs 🪧 were compatible. They’re not. Goats 🐐 and ox 🐂 are basically enemies. 12:13 pmpt I tried giving him the benefit of the doubt many times probably more than I should have. 12:14 pmpt

12:15 pm pt hypothesis prolonged continuous exposure to specific chemicals and patterns might change a brain 🧠? Wishful thinking 💭 or truth? 12:17 pmpt

12:18 pmpt I don’t anticipate ahappy end to my torture. They’re making it worse now with continuous pain and input of lemon 🍋 juice 🧃 unrelenting when there is barely any bone 🦴 left. They LOVE 💕 to torture me and they gave signs 🪧 of death ☠️ to come. What is the point. I wrote everything in vain if the destruction of my body doesn’t end now. They stopped me from going to the c*ps 👮‍♂️ when I was mentally ready to try to confess to them. I can only imagine now they did that Bcz they were protecting Brendan Lean and maybe david Scott Cano. 12:24 pmpt

4:24 pmpt I used condoms with my first boyfriend and the 4th guy (after Scott). No problems with whichever condoms we used then. 4:25 pmpt

11:48 pmpt it feels like they were here and let me know by how shifted my underwear 🩲 felt. B4 that my flesh of the vag felt full and sensitive to touch and arousable. After the underwear 🩲 felt shifted it felt like the vag flesh was reduced and no longer arousable. It happened within minutes. The time I imagined the incubus sitting on me and I was h*rny was year 2020/2021? And that time I remembered feeling as if my underwear 🩲 was not on. I reached down to check and found it on. I guess they toyed 🧸 with my beliefs and feelings a lot intentionally to make me believe. They did it all my life so I can think 💭 back and wonder 💭 if that was why I was home 🏠 alone a lot growing up 🆙 and even in college years. Small short lived constellation 🌌 imaginary consolation prize (autocorrect prinsloo when tried to type prize 11:55 pmpt). I was probably alone and only existed to give others more things money 💰 and power, and for myself to suffer continuously. 11:56 pmpt

11:58 pmpt I feel backstabbed continuously by god.

12 am pt 7:12 pm today I saw 👀 someone with bleached blonde hair who looked like the incubus in passenger seat 💺 of a car 🚙 passing by my window 🪟 to park in the back of the hotel 🏨. Probably the last time I will see someone resembling him from afar/close-ish. The grim reaper. Only prob Bcz I challenged them on their ethics. But they went ahead to try to rob me completely of joy. I felt them stab another organ today right side of upper groin? Area. I fear it to be ovary. They don’t care 🤷🏻‍♀️ to know me. They controlled me and want to claim it’s the real me after many years of being different than that and having learning disabilities. They make me feel like I’m lying 🤥. If I was really like that I probably would have NEVER made the friends I made in my life. I think 💭 I had some nice friends for a while, even if it was short and felt like I was hiding in an introverted shell 🐢 they were extroverts to a degree 📜 and for some reason adopted me into their friendship circle ⭕️ for a little while. I shared colored markers and pencils ✏️ with my whole class 2nd grade. And classmates asked me to draw ✍️/color roses 🌹 for them. They used to write me for student of the week (butt searing pain for minutes 😖😭😤🥵😤🥵😤🥵😤 12:10. Am pt) probably a distraction while they kill my ass. Peaches 🍑 Justin Bieber. ) they all wrote me for years: you’re quiet 🤐 you’re nice. 12:12 am pt my 4/5th grade teacher 👩‍🏫 wrote she liked my hugs 🫂. (Autocorrect like DONT 12:13 am pt DONTWANNAKNOW) incubus miñion are heartless. They do do child 🧒 rape. And deny it. 12:14 am pt

1:11 am pt this is punishment for existing and questioning anything.

1:13 am pt left thigh bone 🦴 pain 😖😖😖😖😖😭😭😭😭😭 above knee. Left shin bone 🦴 pain. He is only using me to insult me to show people that it’s ok to torture women and children and that they have “reasons” to. Even if the reason is probably made up 🆙 by long term chemical manipulation of the brain 🧠, the way they use it for transgender (autocorrect transfender) 1:18 am pt... anything is probably possible with god , talbot book 📖 I have yet to read. 1:18 am pt idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ 1:19 am pt hypothesis. But demon lord incubus doesn’t care for me. So he will lie. Change history. Cover up 🆙 the truth Bcz he has that authority. Doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong. 1:21 am pt he put so many things on to manipulate me. Why? Is it Bcz he knows what he’s doing is wrong? So he’s trying to cover his *ss? He was only here yesterday for show? And then punished me for saying I don’t want him anymore Bcz he made child rape happen? Guilty people with no remorse punish people for finding out the truth? Or do it to prevent truth from coming out. 1:25 am pt otherwise they would be able to show and tell what is truth or not without punishment but I’m not asking for a re enactment or for it to happen again. 1:27 am pt our destinies had similarities. Tricked me into thinking 💭 things that he’s probably going to say I did that on my own. Tricked me again into thinking 💭 it was ok 👌 to say. Then he punished me. 1:29 am pt . He punished me then it means something bad. But he (pain 1:30 am pr)

[yssjj]

on chemicals in my rivers

Today’s ritual for health: steroid topical ointment, only four days. After that I’ll have a non-steroidal topical ointment for four more days. Then vaseline applied on wet hands to make a thin film, hands patted dry on a towel. I take escitalopram (the left-handed version) and birth control, little bitter pills as a nighttime treat. When I have headaches or period pains I can take an ibuprofen. If I’m running a fever I can take an ibuprofen. Or even a huge combination pill of dextromethorphan, guaifenesin and phenylephrine (also known as mucinex) so I can sleep at night. Formulated to taste sweet as a joke, I drink two down with a large glug of water instead of the peppermint oil gas I’d try to suck down my sinuses. Old mornings greeted with a sand dry mouth that had gasped down the air for my hermetically sealed nose.

All of these names were family to me, but sealed behind glass picture frames, we the first American generation. The medication was reachable (I was 5’3 by 11), but my mother never suggested that they were for anything but the most severe fevers. And it never occurred to me to ask her for some. When I cried from the contact of a lukecold blanket, She would measure out my temperature before administering a child’s dose of ibuprofen, liquid form, 30 mL, tasting like spiced grapes. Instead it was tar-black herbal medicine and probiotic supplements my mother had brought to the US from her Korean pharmaceutical degree. I shook myself awake in bed, 3pm, my heaven-mandated pain in a garden of blankets.

Then I watched my college roommate pop four acetaminophens on an empty stomach to preempt a headache. The next time I got a cold, I ran to the university nurse, who prescribed something to unclog my axiomatic tiny nose (and then charged me $400 for it). Did you know eczema is curable? I sat on the dermatologist’s papered-over patient bed and felt the glow of washing dishes without rubber gloves, feeling my hands plow through the old clay I molded that ripped open cracks into my skin. When the dry winters tore it open my mom applied L’occitane (said lo-chi-tahng in Korean) hand creams that would try to pat down ravines. Then the oil and redness would react to create small bubbles under my skin, the bubbles which would then oxidize, tiny combustions across my hands. Now I have steroids. Don’t let your skin get used to being chronically inflamed, the dermatologist said. A thirteen minute appointment and I was moving into the cold spring outside, scarf only having made it over one shoulder.

When I want to die I take my left-handed bitter apple and even though She would throw me out of the house for it, She can’t see me here. I use steroids for four days, the number four which starts the word “death” in Korean. But not in English. And I use painkillers and anesthesia and birth control and antidepressants and I am down on earth with everyone else and I smile in my sleep.

[aka-indulgence]

Overflow

(ehe…. vent fluff… prepare for Not Proper Writing I guess)

sads about stuff other people said that made (reader)’s brain go “aaaa” and Sans is there to tell you how much he means to him

—————

You were hoping Sans wasn’t paying attention to you haphazardly throwing together your (and his) dinner. It’s just some.. noodles and some onions… some instant broth… You dropped the knife and threw it to the sink with more force than necessary. You could almost, physically feel Sans turning his skull around to look at the kitchen.

“you ok in there?”

“Everything’s good!” You answered, also with more force than necessary. If he could see your smile you’d probably look kinda insane.

You make noodle soup with anxious energy. It felt like it took forever for the water to boil. You put the bowls on a tray and carry it out to the living room.

Sans looks at you expectantly (and with some worry) as you put it down on the table in front of you. The tray hits the table with a smack! sloshing the soup, which ended up on your hand. The burn from the boiling hot liquid was instant.

“Argh!!!” You exclaimed, running to back to the kitchen.

“shit, are you ok?” Sans’ brows are furrowed as he followed you to the sink.

“It’s fine! I’m sorry.” you quickly said, staring hard at your injured hand like it was the cause of all your problems.

It felt like you’ve been on a thin string all day. You had a stumble at work, and someone had made a comment on how clumsy you are. It… it wasn’t a lot. It’s not like you were outright bullied. But for some reason it stung somewhere in your chest and has been floating around your mind for the rest of the day. You felt stupid. The harder you tried to ‘get over it’ the more your brain just wanted to focus on it. And you felt even sillier, because it just made you want to cry more. And over what?

The tears were threatening to spill over your eyes as you held your breath, turning the faucet further. Maybe so the water would drown out the sounds of you sniffling.

Gently, a hand reaches beside you over your hand on the faucet, closing it. Sans takes a paper towel and dabs it around your wet hand, wiping it with… almost too softly. Somewhere at the back of your mind the memory of someone patching up your cuts as a child surfaces and your tears fall.

… Of course Sans is completely oblivious to your spiraling thoughts, and doesn’t know why you started to sob.

“… buttercup?” Sans frowned. “what’s… what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t say anything when you lean forward to hug him, hiding your face in the hood of his jacket. You stand there for a while, letting your shoulders shake.

After a while, you said “Sans…”

“yes?”

“Do you think I’m good enough?”

… Long pause.

…

“wh… what do you mean by that?”

“Adequate. Not stupid.” you answered bitterly.

Instantly, he holds your shoulders, his forehead against yours.

Gently, he prompted “where did you get the idea that you’re not?”

“…” You didn’t look at his eyelights. You’re too embarrassed.

“… ok, that doesn’t matter right now. but please don’t say that.” Sans plead. “because you have no idea how… how much you are,”

He mumbled for a bit before he added “how much of a treasure you are.”

Oh man. There goes your tears again.

“i… feel so lucky that you’d want to be with a lazy, ketchup-drinking skeleton like me,” he chuckled, corner of his grin lifting.

“Y… you’re smart and funny,” you said almost automatically, “… and handsome,”

His smile gets wider. “exactly why i feel so lucky. how can i have this… beautiful, wonderful human look at me and… and love me? (y/n). you’re more than enough. i don’t care whatever anyone says about you, how you got the idea that you might not be ‘good enough’- to me, you’re… you’re overflowing. you’re smart…. and you’re kind. more than i am. and i think that’s much more admirable.”

You rubbed your face, hiccuping a little.

“hey. you aren’t your mistakes. so let’s not pretend you are,” Sans eyed the knife in the sink, “you’re (y/n). and i’m the lucky monster who can call you my date. come eat with me?”

You’re thumbing the sleeve of your shirt when he asked.

“Only if we’re watching something funny. Or cute.”

“ok, animal videos…. like an old person?”

“Yep.”

He kissed your cheek and bridal carried you to the living room. Neither of you are bothered by the cool soup.

[yutahoes]

Father’s Day

A simple and late Father’s Day AU for my most favorite Yuta of all. This picture just screams dad! Yuta. And this is written in a whim so please tell me if something is wrong with this. 

pairing : dad! Yuta Nakamoto x mom! Y/N, Shiho, Shinichi

genre : fluff, light smut (Sorry. 😥 but minors can read the first part, just don’t read after the mark)

word count : 1.4k words

warnings : slight boob play(?)

disclaimer : I don’t know anything about lactation or if this was possible but it’s for fiction purposes, so please let this little mistake slip. Again, minors can read the first part and stop on the mark.

Yuta stopped the ignition of the car then took out his keys before taking the duffel bag on the passenger seat and exiting his car while looking at their house. It’s quiet. Weird. Normally, he would hear Shiho’s squeal that her dad is home or his wife telling Shiho to open the door. Sometimes, Shin will add to the mix while crying. So this scenario, with all the lights from the inside closed is new. 

Did something happen? His eyes widened in surprise. Wait, nothing bad happened right? 

Quickly, with his heart beating wildly against his chest, he opened the door and heard a loud popping sound that made him plop to the ground. He could see the living room lights opened, Y/N near the lights while Shin was seated on his high chair, rubbing his eyes at the sudden light. Shiho was holding a small popper, staring at him. “What are you doing on the floor, daddy?” 

He glanced at his wife but she just stared at him in confusion. “You just surprised me. I thought…” He stopped then shook his head, eyeing the banner with Shiho’s handwriting saying ‘Happy Father’s Day’ in Japanese and the food on the small center table. “What’s this? “

Shiho cleared her throat before opening a piece of paper and reading the words written inside, “Chichinohi omedetou, daddy! (Happy Father’s Day, daddy!)” Yuta chuckled when she continued, “Kazukuno tameni itsumo ganbatte kurete arigatou. (Thank you for working so hard always for our family)” He smiled at her broken yet improving Japanese. The younger breathed hard before looking up from the paper then at the older girl, “Mommy, help. This is so long.” 

Yuta laughed as Y/N chuckled while walking to where Shiho is. “No worries.” He said while standing up, kissing the top of the younger’s head then his wife before carrying the mumbling Shin in his arms. “Did mommy teach you that, baby?” She nodded then sat beside her dad on the couch. Y/N disappeared to the kitchen while he read the contents of the paper Shiho was reading earlier. “You’re getting better at Japanese.”     

“Arigatou gozaimasu, otou-san. (Thank you, daddy.)” She reappeared with a large plate of fried rice, crab meat fried rice to be exact. “I helped mommy cook that.” She pointed at the food just as she placed takoyaki next to the rice. “And that too.” 

Yuta was astounded. This was all his favorite food. “Mommy can’t cook.” He teased and the older just grinned at him. 

“We called obaasan and she helped us. She even told me what to say.” Yuta smiled. Of course. Why isn’t he surprised? “Do you like our present daddy?” 

Shin kept on mumbling ‘papa’ while smiling at him, making Yuta nod. “This is the best Father’s Day ever.” Once again, he kissed Shiho’s head when she squealed in delight. “But you don’t have to do this, it’s lots of work. Every day for me is Father’s Day.” The younger girl looked at him in confusion. “I became a father because of you and Shin so seeing you everyday is already a present.” He crushed both kids in a hug that made the two children giggle.

Y/N stared at him in admiration and he winked when her eyes caught his. "Mommy, the cake." Shiho reminded that made her quickly sprang up from her seated position on the floor and disappeared to the kitchen again. 

"Mommy made the cake as well?" 

Shiho laughed. "We bought it in the store." 

The meal was so good and Yuta was happy that both Shiho and Shin liked the foods he also loved, especially the green tea cake. He volunteered in washing dishes while Y/N tuck the kids to sleep. Once done, he entered the room where Y/N is calming down the crying Shin. “Do you need help?” She shook her head, opening the top buttons of her blouse to give Shin his food. “I’ll get some shower first.” The girl nodded before focusing on the younger child in her arms. 

Once done, he saw her just placing Shin in the crib beside their bed. He was wiping his wet hair with a towel then sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her on his lap. “What?” She asked but Yuta just shook his head. Y/N stood up then sat back on his lap, her body facing his. She took the towel and started wiping his hair. “Busy?”

“Just some preparations.” He held her waist, watching as she focused on her task. “Thank you for the celebration.” She smiled. “The food was great. Better than last year’s.” 

She let go of the towel then held his shoulders. “That’s good. I have to be better since you’re the best dad ever.” He pulled her closer by the waist then gave her a kiss on the cheek. “What was it? Kazukuno…” He didn’t let her finish and just leaned in to kiss her. 

There’s something in him that stirs up when she speaks his native language. He remembered when he introduced her to his parents and she was struggling to speak Japanese but he knew back then that he wanted her to be the mother of his future children. “Thank you, Y/N.” She gave him a confused look. “I wouldn’t enjoy being a dad if it wasn’t for you. This day wouldn’t even mean so much to me without you. Thank you for giving me Shiho and Shin.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him that his head was nuzzled on her chest. “You are the best daddy ever, I hope you know that.” 

---------------- (minors can stop reading until here, I’m sorry)  ----------------

Yuta smirked when she let go of the hug. It’s funny that she’s calling him daddy once again. “Why is your blouse wet?” He asked in worry, noticing the wet spot on her chest. She explained that it was the milk and that she just needed to pump it so it won’t hurt. “Does it happen often? This is the first time I saw this.” 

“Shin must be full so he didn’t drink all the milk and just slept.” She shook her head. “I’ll just get the breast pump…” 

But he prevented her from standing up, “I hope Shin wouldn’t hate me if I share his food.” The look of confusion on her face was quickly replaced with surprise when he started unbuttoning her blouse. Yuta’s eyes were focused on her breasts that is wet with milk before kissing the side of her right breast. “I miss this.” 

A moan escaped her lips when his tongue darted out and swiped against her nipples. His mouth suckled on her breast, tongue licking the nipple. His hand trailed on her back, the other fondling her left breast. His tongue circled and lapped at her swollen nipple. She could even feel the milk flowing from the breast, to her nipple, to her husband’s mouth. Y/N’s fingers thread on Yuta’s hair, her other hand holding his shoulder as she gasps at the arousing sensation. 

Yuta smiled against her breast, feeling her body tense up at the pleasure. Why haven’t they done this before? She tastes so sweet and he’s suddenly jealous that his son is enjoying this sweetness from her everyday. He moved to the other breast, fondling the other he just dried up. Why are breasts so soft? It feels like they will melt in his hand. 

“Mommy!” Both of them froze when Shiho opened the door. “I can’t sleep.” She then stopped. “What are you doing?”

Y/N turned her head to the side to look at her, careful not to turn her body to face the door. “I’m just hugging daddy.” She tried to push Yuta but his mouth is still latched on her breast, eager to get all the milk from her left breast. “Daddy will be there to sing you to sleep.” 

She rubbed her eyes, muttering an okay before leaving the room and closing the door gently. A heavy breath escaped her lips followed by a squeal when Yuta lightly bit on the nipple. Y/N lightly slapped his shoulder when he let go of her breasts after kissing each of them. “I’ll throw your breast pump and hope that Shin can share some milk with me.” Again, a slap followed by a laughing fit. “I’ll tuck Shiho to sleep and continue this.” 

She glanced at her breasts, lightly squeezing them. “I think I’m all out of milk.” 

Yuta lightly carried her gently to bed, kissing her lips before standing up. “Milk isn’t the only thing I can suck from you.” She gasped in surprise as he chuckled, winking at her before opening the door to the room, “Wait for daddy, hmm?” 

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

Hi Yuta, if you’re reading this I’m ready to conceive your Shiho Nakamoto and celebrate with you next year. 🤣🤣

[dearviper]

Certain Dark Things Chapter 15: Lives Darkly in My Body

WARNINGS: 18+ (minors dni!); vomiting; drugging (no real way to avoid these, so if you skip the chapter but want a brief summary feel free to DM me!)

Table of Contents | My Masterlist

That damn kiss haunted you. As soon as it was over, you knew it was a bad idea. You could tell by the possessive, triumphant gleam in Edward’s eyes that it would not end here.

You hadn’t stopped to think, and it was going to cost you. A thousand alternate scenarios ran through your mind.

You could have told him no, you didn’t love him, consequences be damned.

You could have deflected from his question by saying it was too confusing right now for you to be sure.

You could have distracted him by stoking his anger instead.

Could have, should have, but didn’t.

So many possibilities, and you chose the one action that would make him feel justified in his relentless pursuit of you. The one action that would make him think you were in love with him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

He was already pushing the envelope when he thought you had no interest; what would he do now that he thought you loved him? What violations would he commit if he thought every “no” to be a “yes”?

The thought made you sick to your stomach.

In fact, you were sure you had manifested an actual illness. The day after you kissed Edward, you felt a turning in your stomach and ran to the bathroom to vomit.

(You were lucky today was a leash day and not a chair day.)

Edward followed you in and found you sweating buckets with your head in the toilet.

“My poor girl,” he crooned sympathetically, detaching the cable and holding your hair back from your face as another heave wracked your body. “Did you get food poisoning?”

“I don’t know,” you gasped out. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, and your body was stiff. “This doesn’t feel like food poisoning.”

“Must be a bad case,” he replied, rubbing circles on your back. “Poor thing.”

You groaned miserably into the bowl in lieu of responding.

Noticing you shivering, Edward pulled a towel down from the bar and wrapped it around your shoulders. He pressed his wet lips to your temple, retreating quickly when you retched again into the toilet.

He sat there with you until the worst of it subsided, rubbing your back and murmuring comforting words to you.

When you felt comfortable enough to exit the bathroom, he led you to the kitchen and gently guided you down onto a stool.

Grudgingly, you allowed him to take care of you. In truth, you were thankful to have someone to pamper you while you were sick.

It wasn’t something you were used to, and you even felt a little-

Your thoughts came to a screeching halt when your eyes settled on the trash can — or rather, its contents.

Poking out the top, poorly hidden by a seemingly unused paper towel, was a small medicine bottle. It was turned so the first few letters of the label were cut off; all you could see was “cac Syrup.”

Despite the obscured portion, you had a sinking feeling you knew what the full label read.

“Eddie?” you asked suddenly. “Could you grab my blanket? This towel isn’t helping much.”

You threw in a shiver for good measure, and he smiled dotingly at you. “Of course, angel.”

You remained stock-still until you were sure he was down the hall.

When you heard a doorknob turn, you reached out and turned the bottle so you could see the full label.

When you heard his footsteps again, you returned both the bottle and your body to their original positions.

Forcing a weak smile at Edward, you traded him the sweat-damp towel for the dry blanket.

You made a big show of cocooning yourself in the blanket and taking a long drink of the water he gave you.

“Not too fast,” he chided gently. “Don’t want to upset your stomach further.”

Nodding, you set the water back on the table. “I think I should take a nap.”

He mirrored your nod and said, “You really tuckered yourself out.”

You wanted to scoff at how he phrased it, like you were a child exhausted from playing all day. As if it wasn’t his fault.

Letting him lead you back to the bedroom, you patiently allowed him to reattach the cable before curling up on your side.

“I should stay with you to make sure you don’t choke on your vomit.”

As if he cared.

As if he hadn’t planned this.

Still, you permitted him to join you, if only to avoid a fight. He climbed onto the bed behind you (carefully avoiding lying on the leash) and enveloped your body with his own.

You felt ill again, but this time in disgust at the way his body molded against your own. You had only brief respites from his touch each time you reached for the bucket to vomit. But each time you resettled into the bed, his arms would go back to caging you against him.

You squeezed your eyes shut in a poor attempt at escapism, but the image of the medicine label was burning behind your eyelids.

Ipecac Syrup Fast-acting emetic!

Once again, Edward had drugged you.

Edward was unaware of your disquiet, humming happily as he spooned you. To him, the two of you were the picture of domesticity. You were sick and he was taking care of you. “In sickness and in health,” as it were.

Of course, those wedding vows probably weren’t accounting for one person purposefully making the other sick, but Edward had grown desperate.

While getting you to admit your love for him was certainly a win, love alone was not enough. He wanted you willing and open to a relationship with him. He had to prove himself to you.

As he ran a soothing hand up and down your arm, he pictured it: after his work in Gotham was complete, the two of you would abscond to a house somewhere upstate. You’d have a few kids, a minivan, the whole nine yards.

Mr. and Mrs. Edward Nashton. It had a nice ring to it.

He had never allowed himself to hope for love before, or even to believe in it. At least not for himself, anyway.

Edward wasn’t blind — he knew he had a myriad of flaws, both physical and psychological. But you looked past them. More than that, you saw them and accepted them as a part of him.

And you had your flaws too; you were eager to get your way, mistrustful, and at times a bit sneaky. But you were a woman, after all, and such things were to be expected.

Besides, the two of you had made such progress! After the initial shock had worn off, you hadn’t even tried to run away again.

In the past two months, you regained his trust and proved your worthiness. If at first you couldn’t see that he had only good intentions, you certainly did now.

And now here you were, sick as a dog with Edward to nurse you back to health.

This was what love was about, wasn’t it? Being there for each other, relying on each other.

This was Edward’s way of showing you that you could depend on him — he had just greased the wheels a bit to speed things along.

Sighing contentedly, he nestled his face against your back and smiled when he heard your heartbeat speed up.

She really loves me, he thought.

I want him dead, you thought, clenching your jaw as he cuddled into you.

For the next few days, you barely ate. You asked for plain foods, telling Edward that you were trying to go easy on your stomach.

That was a lie.

The truth was, you were terrified that he would continue tampering with your food. The more basic the meal, the less likely he would be able to conceal the color or flavor of the ipecac.

He’ll just find something else to poison you with, your paranoia warned you. He’ll give you soup and pour in Pine Sol, like that little girl’s mom in The Sixth Sense.

You wanted to believe he wouldn’t take it that far, but you couldn’t be sure.

As a countermeasure, you were extra-grateful and extra-affectionate to him in the days that followed.

If he hurt you when he wanted attention, then you had to make sure he never went without it.

Edward was pleased by this new development, satisfied that his plan had worked. There was a certain smugness in his air, an I-know-something-you-don’t-know kind of disposition that drove you crazy.

He really thought he had gotten away with it. He thought you were stupid.

Knowing that sparked rage inside of you. You wanted to prove him wrong, but what could you do? Admit that you knew he drugged you, and then what?

Drugging aside, you were safe (or safer, at least) when you acted meek and tractable. At least then he was more inclined toward kindness.

But if that changed, if you rebelled? You shuddered to think of the consequences. You had seen through the cracks in his mask during your escape attempt.

Though Edward wanted you to love him, he was clearly not opposed to ruling with violence instead.

In the end, your fear outweighed your fury. The goal was not revenge; it was survival.

previous chapter | next chapter

[possumcollege]

🤦‍♀️I have learned something that has made this topic even dumber.

Since the post above, I've learned that some of the cat-child panic has been fueled by photos of kitty litter in a classroom. Cranks are fretting themselves raw over the notion that schools are providing litter boxes for students identifying as cats.

My mother taught kindergarten for over 30yrs. I was a child. I've been in more public school classrooms than I can count. I now have a young child in school. I have been intimately acquainted with the needs and practices of public school teachers for most of my life. I now work in higher education.

If the litter isn't there for a class pet or science experiments, I can say with damn near 100% certainty that it's there to clean up vomit, urine, or other nasty liquid spills.

Kids are messy. Especially little kids who aren't great at knowing when they need to go pee, are too embarrassed to ask, or just have accidents. Their bladders don't always grow proportionately with the rest of them and you can't just shame kids into mastering their bodies. Kids also throw up a lot. From being over-excited, angry, sad, drinking too much chocolate milk, playing too hard, eating junk they shouldn't, they're kind of like cats. There's a non-zero chance of someone throwing up at least once a month in pre-k through maybe 5th grade.

When that happens, teachers or staff can:

Attack the mess with the institutional-grade paper products schools provide, which are about as absorbent as newsprint.

Call and wait for a custodian. Depending on the school, there may only be 1-5 people servicing facilities used by hundreds of students. My small town K-5 had at most 3 regular custodians, one of which was also the building engineer.

Use the precious good paper towels donated by parents because public school teachers in the US almost universally have to purchase their own everyday consumables .

Dump cat litter on it to keep the pool from spreading, buy time for the custodian/janitor/housekeeper to show up, and cut The Smell before the rest of the class starts a chain reaction.

I've seen teachers include litter in suggested donation items at the beginning of the semester along with spare socks, underwear, t-shirts, instant ice packs, band-aids, etc. because again, the average public school teacher's budget for materials is razor-thin.

Someone on Twitter questioned my assertion saying "wouldn't sawdust be better and cheaper? that's what my school used." Sawdust is damn near perfect for containing wet messes and it can be cheap, but it's not generally as accessible for the average consumer in 2023. Institutions will buy it cheap in bulk, or products like it specifically made for cleaning up bio-waste. However just about anybody can buy cheap kitty litter in gas stations, dollar stores, groceries, hardware stores, pet stores, pharmacies, convenience stores, in less- than-industrial quantities. I can virtually guarantee a box of litter will be cheaper and easier to find than a package of specialized vomit dust.

I've also heard the litter is somehow related to mass-shooting prep but that seems like more of a stretch. I heard someone on a podcast guess it was in case someone couldn't get to the bathroom during an emergency lockdown (a lot of US schools call them Code Reds), which isn't entirely implausible but still far less likely than regular spill/fluid management. I've also seen people online say the litter is for bleeding control but pouring cat litter into a wound is a fucking terrible idea. It can't be sterile and cleaning it out would be a trauma surgeon's nightmare.

This is a lot of words to reinforce the point that the "concern" over cat children is firmly rooted in transphobia and anti-LGBTQ+ bigotry. I think it's important to interrogate the reckless incuriousity that is such a structural element of bigotry. The core principle that the world has come to be the way it is because it is supposed to be that way, can create such toxic adherence to the status quo that it can turn just about any new piece of information into an existential crisis.

Why is cat litter in a place where there are no cats? The answer could be a sign that our society has become so soft that kids who want to be cats must be provided with litter boxes by administrators too afraid of being called bigots OR the answer could just be boring and kind of gross.

I saw this happen like a decade ago where people who didn't know how cars are moved by train were TERRIFIED to hear that the FBI was buying bi-level rail cars with "shackles" and air holes in the sides. Did this mean patriots were going to be shipped off to death camps on trains? Or does it mean the government has a lot of vehicles to move across the country and those vehicles need to be tied down so they don't smash into each other, and the trains need ventilation so those cars don't melt inside the giant steel box that the sun shines on? Instead, when someone pointed out that these train cars were for moving vehicles, the cranks theorized the state was somehow planning to round up undesirable Americans by hacking their vehicles' computers and kidnapping them in their cars.

Conspiracy theories and this kind of moral outrage always hinge on people needing there to be some nefarious, coordinated. intentional effort behind the parts of the world that "shouldn't" be. If the world is right and good, and the natural order is correct then why did this incomprehensible or terrible thing happen? What normal person could be so hostile to reality without being pushed by bad actors?

Sometimes shit does just happen. There will be things that don't make sense under a fixed model of existence. People are complicated creatures. We can treat these things as aberrations and spend our entire lives fighting the mere presence of the uncategorized, or learn to live in a world of the possible, even when seems frighteningly improbable. I understand that there is comfort and safety in the knowable, for there to be meaning, and a plan, that hell is simply chaos for some people. I also know that curiosity is one of humanity's greatest attributes and that imagination is what has enabled us to thrive in the world when it isn't being used to turn us against each other for the benefit of a privileged few.

That privileged class needs people to believe "this is how the world works." They need people to be afraid of gray areas, threats from outsiders, the unfamiliar, weird shit. They need us to have faith in their word or faith that our reward lies outside earthly things so they don't have to provide for us. This is so essential to entrenched systems of power that simple transparency and understanding of how the sausage actually gets made can't be treated as common knowledge. Incuriosity is the weapon and the shield of systems of control.

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood?..."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Transphobic parents love to eat their own trails over that post about Unnamed Public School where a kid identifies as a cat.

Their monocle hasn't hit the ground yet before they post shit to their school board like, "I'm not sure if this is a thing or not but it sounds exactly like something they would do and if it's half as bad as I'm imagining, I fear any of us that survive will soon come to envy the dead!"

You can't make this shit up? It sounds exactly like the stories they make up to justify their need to get violently angry about a complete stranger's genitals. Even if it was true, it absolutely can't hurt them. The real police couldn't make these people wear masks or stop going to bars during a pandemic and they think the Woke SS is going to mass-grave them for defending their right to be a shit to other people's kids.

I get that it's because being that furious about a real thing makes it too easy to call them a bigot. "I don't hate the kids, I hate what could come next if we stop reminding kids how to be good boys and girls."

It's easier to pretend they're worried about escalation instead of owning up to the confusion and rage they feel because the image they hold of the world isn't the majority position anymore. Condolences.