#REVEAL YOURSELF FOUL SERPENT

[redstrewn]

My MC looks at Leander, sees a piñata, goes "is anyone gonna break that" and doesnt wait for an answer

[sunflowersandsapphires]

In His Element

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: After watching Matt cross examine a witness, your patience is worn thin, leaving you to plead with the devil.

warnings: SMUT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fingering, brief masturbation, descriptions of fem genitalia, dom!Matt's filthy mind, and also him being so attractive

a/n: THIS IS MY FIRST EVER SMUT THAT WASN'T GHOST WRITTEN SO IT MIGHT NOT BE GREAT. I am going to keep practicing for y'all though! As always, please comment/reblog and leave me feedback if you desire :)

w/c: 3.5k

With clammy fingers, you smoothed your wrinkled skirt until it lay flat over your knees, crossing your ankles under the pew you were seated in. In your haste to find a seat before the trial resumed, you’d landed directly below an A/C vent, which was blowing a harsh current over you. The hair along your limbs stood on end, your heart pumping your blood in smaller loops, leaving your extremities to slowly wither. It should’ve been uncomfortable, but you were far too focused on the heat churning in your gut as your eyes followed your partner’s pacing form.

Hands stacked loosely over the handle of his cane, Matt’s head tilted slightly as he prepared to ask the prosecution’s witness a question. He was facing away from you, but you could imagine the exact emotionless-yet-somehow-haughty expression that graced his face. It was one of the attributes of your boyfriend’s stoic appearance that emerged behind the courtroom doors that you found mind-numbingly attractive.

“Officer Bauer,” Matt’s voice sent a shudder down your spine. Though the man wore a literal mask most nights, he had a variety of metaphorical personality-masks that suited various environments—his everyday polite demeanor, the protective and concerned boyfriend that always surfaced whenever you were threatened or hurt, and, notably, the serious, calculating attorney persona he adopted during his trials.

Biting your tongue to freeze your body in place, you inhaled slowly, trying not to draw attention to yourself. A quick glance to the jury confirmed that you were not the only one entranced by the dark-haired man as he strode back and forth, a few feet in front of the witness stand. He had you all captivated.

Shifting his weight to his heels, Matt was angled enough that you could see the innocent smile he directed at the man sweating on the stand. “Can you tell me what you were doing at the corner of 52nd and 8th on the afternoon of Thursday, March 6th?”

A simple question, innocuous enough that the callous man he was questioning let out an indignant scoff as he answered. ”Patrolling.“

You rolled your eyes at his single word response, his disdain for the judicial process evident in his slouched posture and bored tone. He was practically falling asleep in the worn leather chair, his half-lidded eyes trained on Matt like a dazed serpent. The man looked foul and, from the little that Matt had told you, his personality matched.

Despite the apathetic participant he was dealing with, Matt remained calm and composed. His smile widened marginally, revealing a flash of his pristine teeth as he huffed in amusement.

"Of course. And when you were on patrol you noticed the defendant amongst a group of young adults. Is that correct?"

Your chest was convulsing as your heart pounded from your rib cage. Matt was exceptionally intelligent and had explained his tactic for cross-examining this inattentive cop, but that didn't make it any less suspenseful as you watched his game of cat and mouse play out before your very eyes.

The officer's slitted eyes wandered to the ceiling as he sighed. "Yeah."

"Can you describe the group to me?" Matt lifted his shoulders as he posed the question, not quite shrugging, but definitely indicating that, while he believed the leathery-skinned witness had not yet satisfied his curiosity.

“Buncha kids. Messin around.” Four words rather than one. That was progress, right? Akin to the marble rolling down a track at the beginning of a complex Rube Goldberg machine. The task was far from accomplished, but there was motion somewhere within the structure.

“And, as your partner stated earlier, most of the kids were white, is that correct?” The first hint of something substantial. You pressed your lips together, holding in a smile as your mind started to piece together the rocky, cobblestone path your boyfriend was laying for his uncooperative witness.

“Yes.”

“What encouraged you and your partner to approach the defendant and other students in the park?” Tone laced with what sounded like genuine curiosity, Matt raised a brow at the arresting officer. His ability to color his voice in a way that would appeal to the jury never ceased to amaze you.

“We got news of a nearby break in, and they were actin' suspicious.”

At this point, you were pretty much tuning the lazy cop out—waiting for Matt to open his mouth again, to speak in the beautifully deep, almost hoarse way he always did when defending his clients. His words were direct, controlled in the same manner his general conduct was, his anger and need for justice hidden behind an expressionless facade.

It was intoxicating, his ability to hold back. Almost as divine as his ability to let go.

“Can you describe these suspicious activities for the court?”

Fidgeting with a loose thread on the hem of your skirt, you let Matt's voice drape over you like a wool blanket on a winter night. Comforting, warm, and a tad prickly. Only ears as finely tuned to the man's peculiarities could pick up the barbed edge of his questioning—thousands of serrated teeth waiting to ensnare the animal as soon as it was within their grasp. Knowing how talented your partner was in his field, that moment wasn't far away.

The chair creaked as the cop shifted with a hefty shrug. “Ya know, talkin' all low to each other, shovin' things in their bags while lookin' over their shoulder...” He trailed off, mashing a fist against his nose with an awful throat clearing sound.

“And, while on your patrol, you noticed the group acting this way.” More of a statement than a question. Matt was closing in.

“Yea, that’s what I just said.” The cop snorted, completely unaware of the brutal fate that awaited him.

“So you and your partner decided to intervene?” Matt reasoned aloud. He was pacing again. Your attention had been solely on his voice, not his footsteps.

“Course that’s our job.” The ignorant man to the right of the judge shifted again in his seat, his frustration visibly growing as Matt continued to hurl benign and repetitive questions at him.

“And when you exited your vehicle, what happened?” Matt asked.

“They took off.” Bauer answered, irritated.

“On foot?” Matt clarified.

“Yes.” The witness rubbed forcefully at the bridge of his nose again.

“And it’s true that my client left with them?” Gesturing softly to the young woman seated at the defense's table to indicate to the room who his client was, in case they needed a reminder.

 “Yes.” Bauer confirmed.

“So the entire group dispersed on foot?” Matt asked with an air of confusion. His rumbling baritone lifting on the tail end to indicate his dismay.

“Yep.” Bauer grit his teeth, tiring quickly as Matt persisted.

“At the same time?” Matt asked with the same bewildered look on his face.

“Yes.” His witness growled.

“The same group that was acting in a suspicious manner?” Matt questioned.

“Yes. I just said that.” Voice raising, you could see Bauer's face getting redder by the second.

“Then can you tell me, Officer Bauer, why you and your partner BOTH decided to pursue my client?”

Bauer's eyes flashed with something similar to understanding, his mouth remaining clamped shut as Matt stepped closer, closing in on his prey.

“You’ve previously reported and just now confirmed that the entire group left when they noticed you approaching. Yet you and your partner both were solely focused on my client rather than any of the other members of the group. Tell me, officer, is that because of her race?” Matt's words flew out of his mouth rapidly, a string of poorly concealed accusations within them.

You barely had time to appreciate Matt's ingenuity before the lead prosecutor bolted out of her seat. "Objection, Your Honor, that is clearly leading."

"Sustained. Counselor?" The judge glanced at Matt for his next move.

Holding up a hand, Matt didn't miss a beat. “I’ll rephrase. Officer, what reason did you have for pursuing my client rather than any of the other students?”

"Well, she was acting weird," Bauer stammered, his eyes bulging with fear. He'd spotted the threat then.

“In the same manner as the rest of the group, as you previously stated, all of whom you approached with your partner. Yet both of you ran after my client.”

“Yes.” Nodding cautiously, Bauer's voice was suddenly small.

“And, besides her race, can you give any other reason she stood out to you as more suspicious than the rest of the group?”

“Objection, leading.” The prosecution called out, her voice a bit shrill with desperation.

"Overruled. Mr. Murdock, please continue with your line of questioning." The judge's gaze flitted between the prosecutor and the witness who was now sweating profusely on the stand.

“Thank you, your honor. Officer Bauer, can you explain to the court exactly how my client was acting differently?” Changing the question slightly, Matt's lips twitched with the hint of a smirk.

“I don’t know, she, she just was!” Bauer cried, flustered.

“Is there any other difference between her and the rest of the group that you can explicitly state other than her appearance or her race?” Matt asked, cheeks twitching as he gleefully listened to the snare clasp around its victim.

“No.” Bauer answered. "But, but it wasn't like that!"

Turning to the judge, Matt's spine was straight with satisfaction as he announced his intentions. “Your honor, the defense would like to file a motion to dismiss this case on the grounds of selective enforcement. The combined testimony of Officers Bauer and Burke demonstrates an intent to frisk my client because she was black, not solely because of her actions, negating the principle of reasonable suspicion.”

The courtroom exploded, the witness and prosecution both howling in protest as the defendant and Matt both smirked. Grinning ecstatically, you stifled a laugh as the uproar continued, until the judge finally granted the dismissal. You couldn’t lessen your smile if you tried. 

Flooding out of the courtroom amidst the sea of spectators and journalists, you stepped out of the current as quickly as you could. Craning your neck over the waves of bobbing heads, you broke into a wide grin when you saw Matt trailing after the masses, cane sweeping inches from their ankles like he was chasing them out. As soon as he was within reach, you called his name, eagerly grasping his outstretched hand and tugging him out of the doorway.

“God, Matty, that was incredible.” You exclaimed breathlessly, wrapping him in a tight hug. His forehead landed against your hair, his nose skimming the shell of your ear as he shook with a resonant chuckle.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss against your neck, a guttural noise slipping out as he did. “Fuck, you smell so good.”

His words were barely audible, a secret to only be shared with you. They sent another wave of need straight to your core. “Matthew,” You mumbled, his name breaking off into a whine.

Another huff of laughter sounded in your ear. Planting another kiss against your neck, Matt's broad hands squeezed your hips. “My place. Now.”

“What about you?” You murmured, mouth watering as every touch from your boyfriend left a lingering patch of heat along your skin.

“I have a few things to finish up here, but I'll be there when I can. I promise.” You didn't need to hear his heartbeat to feel the honesty in his vow.

The idea of waiting for him made your knees tremble, the joints threatening to buckle as Matt swiped a calloused thumb over the bare skin of your waist, his hand beneath your shirt. “Matty, please.”

Matt shushed you sweetly. “Not here, angel. Be a patient girl for me and I'll make all your pain worth it, I promise.”

With one final squish of your hips, Matt separated from you.

The walk to Matt’s apartment was excruciating. With each step, the throbbing between your legs grew more intense. By the time you’d made it up the stairs and flopped onto his couch, you were practically panting with want. 

Now, you were desperately trying to focus on your book, but the words on the page might as well have been gibberish given how little you'd retained since you started. How were you supposed to manage when the image of Matt's parted lips was branded on the back of your eyelids.

“Be a patient girl for me and I'll make all your pain worth it, I promise.”

Patience was never your strongsuit.

Digging your front teeth into your lip, you dropped your head to the arm of Matt's couch with a thunk, whimpering as your discomfort crested. Blowing out a breath, you clenched the paperback book with vigor, fingernails stabbing the parchment inside, scarring it with tiny crescents. If only this book was Matt's broad back.

He loved when you got a little rough with him. You couldn't help it. As soon as his mouth was on you, your eyes shut, vision blanketed with stars. Your hands would grapple for whatever surface they could find to anchor you as Matt rocked the two of you in tandem, your nails carving scratches into Matt's beautiful, sporadically-freckled skin in the process.

The first time it happened, you'd been horrified. Stammering out an apology and offering to apply antibiotic gel to the red marks, but your boyfriend had just smiled, assuring you that he didn't mind.

“Each of those marks is a reminder that I'm yours, sweetheart.”

Arching your back as Matt's dulcet tone echoed in your ears, the book toppled to the ground with a flutter of pages. Hands wandering over your body, you reminded yourself to be patient.

Matt will be here soon. He will.

But not soon enough. A voice buried somewhere in your subconscious warned, encouraging your primal desires and urging your hands to free the hem of your blouse from where it was tucked beneath the waistband of your skirt. Fingertips trailing over the now-exposed skin of your lower belly, you hummed softly as a ripple of pleasure circled out from your fingertips.

Unbuttoning your skirt, you slowly loosened the fabric enough for your hand to dip under it. Dragging a finger over your panties towards your core, you hissed as it finally reached your delicate clit. The bundle of nerves was overly sensitive after being ignored for so long. Pulling the cotton aside, you pushed your finger between your folds, smiling as it danced over your clit. Circling it carefully with a single finger, you shuddered as your body began to buzz with a familiar thrill.

Rocking your hips into your hand slowly, you could barely hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears—which meant that the slam of a closing door caught you off guard.

Yanking your hand out of your underwear with a yelp, you sat up, frantically jerking your head towards the door.

“I thought I told you to wait for me, sweetheart.” Matt's face was shrouded by an array of shadows, the glint of his malicious smirk tinted red in the light of his living room window.

“I—I was!” You mumbled, arousal seeping into your panties as Matt stalked towards you with a laugh.

“You know I can tell when you're lying, sweets. Want to try that again?”

“Depends,” You retorted, adrenaline reigniting the confidence Matt always brought out in you. “Are you planning on apologizing for being so late?”

Chuckling sinfully, Matt cornered you against the back of the couch, fingers deftly unlooping the fabric of your skirt from the remaining buttons. Leaning down until your lips were practically touching, his mouth glanced against yours as he spoke, ignoring your question. "Do you know how difficult it is to remain coherent when you've clouded the entire courthouse in your scent?"

"W-what?" You stammered, gasping shallowly when Matt's teeth grazed the underside of your jaw, his lips kissing languidly along your neck.

"Did you miss me that much, sweetheart? Wanted me to take you right there on the floor before the jury?" Matt purred, making your cheeks thrum with bashful heat.

"I'm not the only one who wanted that, it seems." You grinned, cupping your hand over the noticeable bulge in his pants. “I can't help it, Matt. Watching you in your element...you're intoxicating. I can't listen to two words out of your mouth without wanting to drag you to the nearest bathroom.”

Palming his cock through the layers he wore, Matt growled into the skin of your neck, nipping at your pulse point. Static ricocheted from the impact, freezing you in place as your thighs flexed.

Shedding you of your skirt, Matt gently caressed the cotton covering your drenched pussy. “Can I—”

“Please,” You begged, choking in a breath before Matt's mouth crashed against yours. His stubble bristled against your skin, the small pinpricks a pleasant contrast to his plush lips. Tearing the remaining clothes from your legs, Matt threw his leg over your torso, encouraging you to fully recline against the leather. One hand cupping the back of your head, the other was splayed across your mound, a single dextrous finger parting your glistening lips.

He tasted like salt, like want. His tongue lapping at you like he needed to swallow you whole, like he couldn't get enough.

His cheeks ruffled as a strangled moan escaped him. “You're this wet for me, sweetheart?”

“All for you.” You panted, the air between you growing thick with feverish heat. “Always for you.”

With a beautiful grin, Matt's finger swiped over your entrance. “You ready?”

Nodding sloppily, you brought your hands up to cup his cheeks, tugging him back to your lips. Mouth colliding with yours, the force became bruising when your body rutted upwards, a jolt of satisfaction striking your every cell as Matt's finger entered you.

You hissed as the familiar pleasant pain washed over you. Arching your back as Matt pumped his digit upwards, you moaned, clapping a hand over your mouth as the sound escaped you. 

Matt chuckled. “No need to be quiet, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.”

“So g-good, Matty.” You whimpered, every nerve within your folds quivering as Matt dragged his finger out of you, pushing it in again as he scraped his teeth over your neck. You cried out, vision going black as your body strained to find release. Your fingers dug into the silk beneath you, yanking at the sheets.

As your desperation grew, the rest of your limbs faded into numbness, your brain solely focused on the sensations of Matt’s callouses scraping against your walls—as if he was scratching an itch that had been niggling at you for hours. 

Matt hummed against your throat, pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you yelp. The fire within you was out of control, your body drawn taught like the string of a bow. 

Wriggling slightly beneath his touch, your breaths became shallow, your stamina worn thin after watching him in court. You whined, twisting slightly to avoid launching yourself over the alluring edge into heavenly oblivion. 

“So close already, sweets?” He teased, repeatedly strumming the bundle of nerves. 

You moaned in assent, fisting the blankets in your clammy hands. His thick fingers tangled in your hair, giving your locks a tug and drawing a pleased yelp from your mouth. 

“Go on. Come for me.” Matt rasped, his breath fanning over your face. 

The command shoved you over the cliff, your lungs clenching as you stifled a scream. Your tailbone rutted up, your back arching off the mattress. Everything went white, your ears ringing as sheer pleasure coursed through your veins.

Matt was murmuring to you, his words muddled by the blood rushing in your ears. “–at’s my girl. Always such a good girl.” 

Rounding the peak, you collapsed to the mattress, your body trembling viciously. Each beat of your heart shook your rib cage, the motions rippling throughout your limbs. Hands flexing, you hissed as the muscles stretched out of mashed fists. Cupping Matt’s cheeks, you smiled as he eagerly dipped to kiss you. 

“Good?” He asked, the question punctuated by the noise of your lips pulling apart. 

“Fuck, Matty,” You whispered, head still swimming from the influx of oxytocin. “Yes. Yes, it was good. S-so good.” 

Withdrawing his hand from between your legs, Matt cradled you against his chest, brushing a thumb over your nape as your soul re-tethered. Lifting one wobbly leg, you shifted, attempting to throw the leaden weight over him, but Matt gently caught you by the thigh, encouraging you to relax. 

“What about you, love?” You asked, drawing in a harsh breath when Matt’s teeth nipped under your ear, his fingers already spreading your legs again.

“Later.” He huffed, his stiff length falling against your plush hip. “I’m not done with you quite yet.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @daisy-arien0 @yarrystyleeza

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Twelve

Fool's Fare: Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Talks of death, Lots of anxiety, Reader has a mental breakdown kind of, Abandonment issues surface hardcore, Talk of curses, Talk of magic, Major angst, Sea shanty, Feelings of hopelessness, Davy Jones reveal! I think that's everything, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.2k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The port of St. Augustine was much like any other port you had found yourself in. The marketplace bustled with activity, the sellers promoting their wears as others scurried about to and fro on the streets. The sun beat down, casting a fog of humidity that threatened to choke the air from your lungs.

It had been two weeks since the serpent’s attack, and the crew of the Hangman had been stranded in the large port, sequestering themselves to one of the local pubs until repairs to the broken mast were finished.

Jake had been in a foul mood since the encounter, the looming deadline heavy on his mind, and on more than one occasion you had woken up to the sound of his distressed murmurs as he slept beside you. He had flat out refused to leave your side for longer than a few minutes since the attack, anxiety and distress coloring his features every time you looked at him. You knew he feared losing you, you could feel it in the way he held you these days, the end drawing nearer with each passing of the sun across the horizon. But wasn’t it you who should be afraid of losing him? You weren’t the one in danger of falling victim to a curse.

A bothersome fly pulled you from your thoughts, the whining of its movement sparking irritation in your chest. It was too damn hot for the pesky thing to be bothering you. You pulled your hand out from under your chin, swatting at the insect as it flew just out of your reach. It zoomed back towards you, wings fluttering in your face as if to taunt you. An exasperated exhale escaped your lips as you glared daggers at the offending beast.

“You look miserable.”

You turned to see Nat approaching you slowly, a wry smile on her lips as you gave her a tight-lipped smile—an attempt you were sure came out as more of a grimace than an actual smile. You wiped the sweat drenched strand of hair out of your face, offering her a shrug as you turned your attention back to the street outside. She sighed, coming up to sit at the sill beside you. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the different groups of people as they flitted about the street. The silence grew more tense as the time dragged on, and you could tell that Natasha wanted to say something to you. Glancing at her from the corner of your eye, you saw her chewing on her bottom lip, deep in thought.

“How’s Mickey today?” You asked her. His screams of agony were still fresh in your mind, the scarlet on his clothes vivid in your mind as he writhed on the decks of the ship. Javy had been the one to stop the blood flow, securing the bandage around Mickey’s thigh tight enough to put a temporary fix to the problem without causing more damage. You watched as Javy and Reuben picked Mickey up on either end, carrying him towards the cabins. Mickey had already passed out, a layer of sweat coating his pallid skin. Nausea roiled in your stomach, your breathing coming out in quick spurts.

You jumped as Jake came up behind you, brushing your hand with his fingertips. Your eyes darted towards him, unease settled deep in your bones.

“Is he going to be okay?” You whispered, looking at the captain for any kind of answer. Jake sucked in a breath, and it occurred to you that you had never seen him look so at a loss.

“I don’t know,” he answered, hanging his head. His hands flexed at his side before balling them into tight fists. You looked from him back towards the sea. The serpent and the British ship were already out of sight as the Hangman limped towards shore. You were sure the men on the other ship were all dead, the serpent’s hunger sated until the next unsuspecting ship made its way into the waters.

“Those men,” you continued, brow furrowing in thought. “The one’s the serpent-”

You stopped yourself from finishing the sentence, pressing your lips into a thin line as Jake glanced at you, waiting.

“Are they dead?” You asked, looking back at him. You didn’t know how the curse worked in cases like this. Yes, they could be hurt. You knew that much. But would something like what had just occurred be enough to kill them?

Jake sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening as he dared to look back towards the water.

“I hope so.”

You had reached the port of St. Augustine early the next morning, the cold light of dawn at your backs as each crew member heaved a weary sigh. Reuben had departed the ship as soon as the gangway was in place, running to find a doctor to see after Mickey. The rest of the crew waited around anxiously, some busying themselves with tasks around the ship as everyone waited for news on Mickey’s condition.

“He’s doing a lot better today,” Nat told you, a tired grunt leaving her lips as she settled further back against the wall. You nodded, closing your eyes in a bid to ignore the heat that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you still look miserable,” she prodded, earning a less than enthused grunt from you. You sighed, leaning up and stretching out your shoulders.

“I suppose I could be doing better,” you admitted, finally turning your full attention to her. She pressed her lips together, humming in agreement.

“The deadline is only a few days away,” she said, and your heart jumped at the reminder before curling in on itself. Her words were the exact reason you had been keeping to yourself the past week, dread filling you down to your very soul as the days loomed and the dreaded deadline approached faster and faster. The anxiety kept you awake well into the night, clawing at your mind until it was all you could think about. You hadn’t known sleep in days.

“Jake’s been awfully tense,” she pressed. “Rightfully so, I guess. Javy won’t show it, but I know he’s worried too. I can see it in the way he holds his shoulders. He fidgets more than usual too when he’s nervous. I do my best to soothe his worries, and I think he forgets for a little while, but…”

Her voice drifts off to silence, an air of uncertainty surrounding her. You understood what she was feeling. The moments of sleep Jake could get were spent in fitful movements as even his unconscious mind was unable to find peace amongst the chaos. You would curl up closer to him in those moments, resting your head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. Fingers would glide up and down his arm, and your presence seemed to calm him enough that he would still, if only for a little while. You asked him early on what he dreamed of in those moments, but his eyes would glaze over as his lips pressed firm, a faraway look in his eyes before he would shake his head and walk away, shoulders hunched as if in defeat.

Bradley didn’t fare much better when you tried talking to him. The usually playful, happy-go-lucky man you knew and loved had all but disappeared. All that was left was a shell of a man who looked and sounded like your brother, but seemed to be a complete stranger to you now in these past days. You had tried talking to him, to get a sense of where his head was at, but much like your captain, no words would leave his lips. He would only stare at you, almost looking through you before turning and walking away.

You felt like you would lose your mind, like the concern and anxiety was building up so completely within you. It reminded you of how your mother once was when your father would leave for his voyages.

She’d pace around the house, busying herself with as many tasks as she could—sometimes repeating them two or three times in a bid to keep her hands busy and mind from drifting towards thoughts of the unimaginable. On more than one occasion, you’d come home to find her staring out towards the water, a faraway look in her eye. You always wondered what she was thinking about in those moments, but now you were sure you knew.

“I don’t think it’s possible to forget the ocean’s secrets,” you replied, focusing once more on the busy street outside. “The ocean will always remind you why it’s not to be crossed.”

Natasha didn’t respond, only looked at you. You didn’t acknowledge her, letting your mind wander to thoughts of what would happen if you all were to fail. Would the curse turn them into mindless monsters? Would the change be immediate? Or would you lose those you hold most dear slowly as their unslaked desire coursed through their veins for eternity?

Your friend heaved a heavy sigh before standing. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but must have thought better of it before turning on her heels and walking away. You wished you could provide her with some kind of comfort, some certainty that things would be okay. But, you could hardly convince yourself of it, let alone another.

The afternoon passed slowly, your vigil by the window continuing on even as the pub filled with sailors and your own crew. Mickey had managed to heal enough to walk, though his usually golden skin still seemed somewhat dull after his experience. The crew drank as if there were no tomorrow, and you supposed there might not be. Locals took up space by the piano, different jigs and tunes ringing out amongst the crowd as several people joined in with lyrics. You wished you could join in the merriment, bring yourself to forget for just one moment that a mere guess wouldn’t decide your fate.

Jake, Bradley, and the rest of your friends sat hunched around one of the tables across from where you sat, none of them able to meet your gaze, and a mixture of anger and loneliness filled you. Is this what your days would look like? Would they go off and leave you behind to face a life of solitude? Would they expect you to forget them?

For another moment, you were reminded once again of your mother, only this time you remembered her as she waited for that last voyage. You could tell that something was different that time, the air more tense as she paced around your home. The song she would hum under her breath the only sound she would make for days. You thought of that song, how lonely and full of despair the words sounded. You thought of how sad your mother always sounded every time she would sing it, and before you even realized, the words were leaving your lips quietly, slowly building to be heard above the hum of conversation filling the room.

“I thought I heard the Old Man say: ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her.’ Tomorrow you will get your pay, and it's time for us to leave her.”

Several heads turned towards you as you sang, your voice clear as you felt the emotion you had worked so hard to keep tamped down swirl within you.

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

The conversation died down now, and you supposed you would feel self conscious under normal circumstances, but something within you longed to break free and be heard. You had long stayed quiet in fear of upsetting those around you with your own feelings. Of course, you had had your few moments where you couldn’t keep the worries and feelings within you, your fears bursting forth and out of you over the past few months on sea.

“Oh, the wind was foul and the sea ran high. ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ She shipped it green and none went by. And it's time for us to leave her.”

The conversation had stopped completely at this point, but you were only vaguely aware of your audience. The words themselves haunted you, and you knew how your mother had felt all those years ago. You wondered if she felt the exact moment she had lost your father to the sea.

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

Had your father been scared in his final moments? Did the waves tower over him life in the song you now sang? Had he faced the towering waves head on in the way he faced everything in life? Or had looking death in the face been too much for him? Did he think of you? Your mother? Bradley? Or did he lament the things he hadn’t done, the things he had failed to do?

“I hate to sail on this rotten tub. ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ No grog allowed and rotten grub. And it's time for us to leave her.”

Several people within the pub now joined in your singing, voices ringing out in unison. For the first time since you started, you dared a look over at the table where the others sat. Remorse colored both Jake and Bradley’s faces, the whisper of tears in their eyes as they watched you. Your heart squeezed so tight, you wondered for a moment if it would burst. You hadn’t meant for the tears to flow, and you were shocked when a cool, night breeze blew in from outside, cooling the trickle that streamed down your cheeks.

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

You choked on the words, unable to continue as those around you continued on. Your world would change in a few days, and there was nothing you could do about it. For the first time, hope seemed too far out of reach, slipping through your grasp as the realization that you would truly be alone for the first time gripped you tightly, refusing to let go.

“We swear by rote for want of more. ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ But now we're through so we'll go on shore. And it's time for us to leave her.

Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

You let out a quiet sob as you pushed off from your seat, practically running out of the pub. The door banged against the wall with a loud crack, the echo of laughter and conversation chasing after you into the dark street. Another tune started up, a jollier shanty than the one you had led everyone in, but the joy and merriment found in the pub did not reach you in that moment, despair digging its claws into you as you stalked down the street with no mind to where you were heading.

The world swam around you, blurred by your tears. Your chest and head hurt from how hard you sobbed, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt keep yourself together, to keep yourself whole.

You staggered, coming to a stop next to building, leaning your weight against the sturdy structure as you fought to gain back your composure. A hand landed on your shoulder, ripping you out of your breakdown. You looked up with wet, wide eyes to meet a sea of concerned green.

Jake didn’t hesitate to try and pull you close, moving to wrap his arms around you in a soothing gesture, but you shook your head, pressing a hand to his chest to keep him away. His brow furrowed in confusion, thumb reaching up absentmindedly to wipe away your tears. You jerked away from him, shaking your head more vigorously.

“No,” you croaked, another sob wracking through you.

“Guppy,” he started, taking a step closer to you, but you shoved at him this time.

“No,” you stated more firmly, shooting him an angry, wild look that had him balking. “I don’t want your pity, or your comfort, or anything else you’re trying to bestow upon me. Not when it’ll all be for nothing.”

“What are you talking about?” He sighed out, an edge to his tone. You sniffled, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand as you attempted to stand tall.

“I can’t keep relying on you,” you uttered. “Not when this time in only four days, I won’t have you anymore. I’ll be alone. I’ll have no one except maybe Nat, but even that’s not a guarantee. In a few days' time, you’ll face Davy Jones, and not knowing how that will end, terrifies me.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there and watched you with an indiscernible expression. Finally, he set his jaw and stepped close, pulling you into his arms. A large hand cradled your face, pulling your face up towards his.

“I’m not leaving you, sweet girl,” he said, thumb stroking across your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut as a new wave of tears threatened to spill over.

“You don’t know that,” you whispered in return.

“I do though,” he retorted. “I know everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. Even if I’m doomed to live a cursed life, a life where I will never know peace or satisfaction again, it would be a far worse fate to not have you by my side.”

You couldn’t stop the sob that shook you, choosing instead to hide your face against his chest. Jake let out a low hum, smoothing his hand over the back of your head as he rocked you gently until the sobs died down once more.

“Trust me, Guppy,” he murmured, moving his hand to dig something out of his coat. “This will buy us our freedom.”

You turned your head to see him holding up the Soul of Polaris, the gem seeming to glow in the moonlight. You swallowed thickly, watching as it rotated slowly in his hold.

“What does it show you?” You asked quietly, gripping his shirt a little harder in your hands.

“What?” Jake asked, sounding perplexed.

“When I first saw it,” you explained, “the man who had it said that it guided a person to what it was they needed most.”

You turned your head to gaze up at him. “So, what is it that it shows you?”

Jake looked at you for a moment, eyes wide in surprise before he shifted his focus towards the gem. His brow furrowed once more as he pressed his lips together, pondering what he should say.

“We should head back,” he said finally, pocketing the gem once more as he guided you back down the street.

Four days later, the newly repaired Hangman rocked in the ocean waves as it headed up the coast towards North Carolina. The air aboard the ship had grown thick with mounting tension and anxiety, the air so thick you swore you could cut it with one of Bob’s kitchen knives.

The fog that surrounded the waters didn’t help matters, setting a decidedly somber mood as the crew waited for their fates to be decided. Sunset was approaching, something you could tell despite the blanket of fog that hid the sun from view. Jake hadn’t stopped pacing the length of the deck for two hours, and just watching him had you on edge. He had already snapped at three crew members for, admittedly, small infractions, and you were starting to wonder if he’d keep his sanity long enough to see Davy Jones at this point.

“Captain,” Javy called from the helm, face tight with his own anxiety, though his tells were less obvious compared to everyone else’s. Jake’s head snapped up to look at him, back rigid as he paused mid-step.

“We’re here,” Javy announced, dipping his head at his best friend. Jake sucked in a breath, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he blew out, nodding his head as he swallowed thickly.

“Yeah,” he muttered, nodding more determinedly. “Yeah, alright. Bradshaw, Guppy. You’re with me. Everyone else, stay put until I get back.”

You were shocked that he picked you and Bradley, certain he would have chosen Javy or Natasha. You didn’t say anything as you followed him and Bradley towards one of the lifeboats. Natasha already stood by the railing, waiting for the captain to approach.

“You’re leaving me behind?” She challenged as you all approached, Javy descending the stairs at the same time. Jake raised his chin at her, a grimace pulling on his lips.

“I trust you and Javy to look after the ship while I’m away,” he explained. “But, I still need people I can trust with me—people I can depend on if this goes south. Bradshaw will act as my muscle, and we’ve seen how things react around Guppy.”

Natasha mulled over his words for a moment before nodding in agreement.

“Be careful out there,” she implored. “We’ve already had one crew member mangled by something magical.”

Jake shot her a grateful look before turning his attention to Javy who had saddled up behind her. The two shared a silent exchange before clasping their forearms and pulling each other in for a one-armed hug. The two pulled away at the same time, and Javy offered the captain a nod.

“Good luck,” he said. Jake nodded back at him before turning back towards the lifeboat. He let out a long, weary sigh before stepping forward with you and Bradley not far behind.

The fog clung to your skin, giving you the feeling of walking through water as the sand shifted beneath your feet. Jake and Bradley had hauled the boat up out of the water and further onto the beach before the three of you set out to find the spot where Davy Jones would be waiting.

The wind whipped around you, ruffling your clothes and sending a chill down your spine. You ignored it, knowing what lay ahead of you already had a frigid feeling coursing through your veins as the sky began to grow darker. Jake’s pace began to increase as the clock counted down, his hands clenching and unclenching as the three of you continued on.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Bradley asked, peering at the captain from the corner of his eye. Jake’s frown deepened as he shot the brunette a sharp look.

“Yes,” he snapped, stopping suddenly. “This is the place.”

You looked around, noting the cliffs that hung just above your head, the grass swaying in the wind as the waves crashed against the rocky shore. Bradley looked around as Jake stared down at his feet. You perched atop one of the rocks, bringing your knees up to your chin as your attention flickered between the two men.

“Did we miss him?” Bradley prodded, hands in his pockets as he walked around in a circle. “Shouldn’t he be here already?”

“I don’t know Bradshaw,” Jake snapped once more, an irritated glint in his eye. “We didn’t exactly exchange letters on what time to meet.”

A familiar hum prickled at the back of your neck, your back straightening as a knowing feeling overcame you. You twisted your neck to the right, looking down the beach towards the opposite way you came. In the growing shadows and through the fog, a tall figure began to emerge, their coat billowing behind them.

“Look!” You exclaimed, scrambling to your feet as you pointed a finger at the figure. Jake and Bradley turned to where you gestured, postures alert and on guard as they spotted the figure too. The humming grew in intensity as the figure drew closer, but there was no sense of danger that accompanied it like there had been with Thetis, the sirens, and the serpent. No, in place of danger, there was only the sense of familiarity, and confusion tickled at the back of your mind.

The fog and shadows obscured the figure as it stopped by some rocks a few yards away. You squinted, trying to make out any discernable features, but you couldn’t help but feel you knew the person who stood in front of you. A soft scratch sounded as the figure struck a match, the small flame illuminating his face as he lit the pipe that hung at his lips. Shock coursed through you as you recognized the blue eyes and weathered face that stared back at your group, the embers of tobacco letting out a puff of smoke as he exhaled.

You blinked, not quite believing what you were seeing, and you knew Bradley’s expression must have mirrored your own in that moment.

“Tom?”

A/N: Wooooooooow! I can't believe it's finally here, y'all! What do we think? How are we feeling? What on earth is going to happen next???

It feels so good to finally get this one off my chest, I've been sitting on it for sooooooo long! Like...the amount of times I almost slipped up and told y'all everything is embarrassing, quite frankly.

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[boul3vvard]

Rengoku x GN! Reader

(One shot)

★Warning(s): none really reader uses gender neutral pronouns😛 Rengoku might be a lil OOC so… 🏃🏾‍♀️ also SOME of the characters are color coded.

★Y/n L/n = Your name/ Last name

★Words: idek💀

★Notes: this is my first request from @coolminahi (thank you very much🫶🏿) not gonna lie I don’t think this is my best work but I’ve been going back and forth on this for about 2 weeks or what felt like 2 weeks😭😭 but again thank you so much for this request it was really fun🙏🏿. Also got help from some of my friends on this one so shoutout to them🫡. (And the usual..might be some grammatical errors and punctuation😮‍💨 I’m not really good in that realm LMAOO) enjoy🫵🏿

“I know you all are probably confused about the sudden request for a meeting but I’m happy to tell you that we have a new Hashira with us today.” master ubuyashiki said as the Hashira quieted down and made it to their respective area’s quickly, some of them with shocked expressions across their faces. “with all due respect master do you think it’s a smart idea to have a stranger come in too late in the game? I mean we are already so close to our goal in taking down Muzan we don’t need a weakling to come and fuck it up” Sanemi the wind Hashira, said annoyed as Tengen nudged him for using foul language towards their master while the rest agreed. “I apologize sir but I agree, this is way too risky” Obanai the serpent Hashira said. “They have done an outstanding job climbing up the ranks and have worked so hard to earn such a title so please, I know I can count on you all to welcome them with open arms. you can come out now y/n” Hinaki and Nichika 2 of the eldest quintuplet children of the masters held both of your hands as you walked up blindfolded. Why the hell are they blindfolded I hope they’re not trying to fight like that. Ha, this is gonna be a fun way to get yourself killed. “Hi everyone my name is y/n l/n the ____ Hashira, it’s my pleasure to meet you guys I have heard a lot about you all but have never had the chance to meet any of you in person, it’s such an honor to be fighting alongside everyone,” y/n said with a dainty smile one that made the flame pillars heart flutter a little bit.

“Why the hell are they blindfolded,” Sanemi asked rudely but said what everyone else was thinking. “it’s to control my power” “control your power” Shinobu repeated “well you see my eyes play a special part in my breathing form, when I take my blindfold off I’m able to go all out,” you said revealing your eyes to everyone. “oh my” Shinobu the insect Hashira gasped. “well I’ll be, you are one of the most stunning people I’ve ever seen,” Tengen said with his eyes wide open. “besides my beautiful wives of course” he bragged. “wives?” “Oh yes, they are the finest kunoichi around, although I don’t mind having a 4th” he looked at you almost predatory, and winked“ “4TH” y/n gaped as the others laughed. “AHH YOUR EYES THEY’RE SO BEAUTIFUL, YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL,” the love Hashira said with a squeak. “Oh th-thank you,” you said as you tried to hide your face in your hands feeling like it was on 10,000 degrees. You backed up a little bit into someone’s chest “oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“ “NONE OF THAT, TIS ALRIGHT!! MY NAME IS RENGOKU KYOJURO BUT YOU CAN CALL ME KYOJURO..only if you want” holding a hand out to you, y/n smiled softly grabbing it.

“I don’t give a shit about none of that I just want to see if they are strong enough to hold the title or was the master just bluffing,” Sanemi said holding the hilt of his sword. “IF WE HAVE THE MASTER's WORD THEN I TOO BELIEVE THEY'RE STRONG ENOUGH” Rengoku yelled while holding your shoulders “oh you wanna fight me?” you said, the shy act you had going on finally disappearing. “Oh this will be good” Shinobu cheered as everyone watched the battle that was about to unravel in front of them. “just cause you’re a newbie doesn’t mean that I’ll go easy on you” he sneered. “Noted” y/n smiled a little more wickedly. Sanemi swung his sword at y/n not giving them a chance to unsheathe their sword as well, y/n swiftly dodged it twisting their body up in the air “they’re quick” Tengen said as y/n quickly swung their sword at Sanemi narrowly missing his head. “tch” Sanemi looked at you with an angry panicked look. “What’s wrong? I’m just trying to see if you’re strong enough to hold your title,” you say mockingly as you shrugged your shoulders. Y/n then quickly kicked their foot under Sanemi’s pointing their sword at him “I win”. y/n reached a hand out to the man giving him a sorry look. “I don’t need your pity idiot, move” Sanemi smack their hand out the way and left.

“They’re so cool” Mitsuri whispered to herself. “that was flashy, you’re strong I expected that though” Tengen slapped you on the back for a job well done. “first of all OUCH second of all thank you“ you winced as your back started to sting. Muichirou was in no mood to speak so he stuck his tongue out at you and you mirrored his actions. “Don’t mind him he doesn’t like change at all, Mitsuri and I are gonna hang out later if you want to join, you know so you could tell us a little more about yourself” Shinobu said “um no thank you I was planning on focusing on my training for a little bit,” you said with a bow. “there’s no need for none of that I understand, there’s always a next time,” Shinobu said with a smile. “yea” you smiled and waved back as you left.

You decided to train far into the woods as it was the only place where you were not able to break anything. You trained for about an hour before you decided it was time for a break. You sat with your back against a tree and closed your eyes taking in the peace that you craved for so long. “Do you mind if I sit with you” you opened 1 of your eyes then immediately shot up nervously. “did I interrupt you?” He said as you scooted over to give him some room. “n-no not at all, I was just taking a break from training for so long” “oh I see” a wave of awkward silence washed over the both of you. “Soooo do you come to this area of the woods often.” you said as you turned to look at him “yea this is where I come to relax all the time, it’s so quiet” “oh sorry I didn’t know I was in your way,” you said as you were about to get up. “no problem it’s better when you’re with someone… what you did in today's meeting earlier was truly amazing, you know I’ve never seen someone move as quickly as you did besides Tengen” he trailed off. “well maybe you and I could train together sometime” you laughed. He stared at your face for what seemed like forever, you started to feel a little insecure at the way he looked at you. *was something on my face*, your face began to flush with embarrassment until he finally spoke up. “your eyes are truly the most beautiful I’ve ever seen they look like two gemstones have been enfolded into your irises” he said with a huge smile wiped across his face. “th-thank you” you stutter as your face began to heat up. You were still not used to being showered in compliments all the time because of your upbringing so It was still so foreign to you. Rengoku placed his hand on your forehead, “are you okay? you don’t look so well, Are you sick or something?” He said worryingly. *I FEEL LIKE I'M GONNA PASS OUT* you screamed at yourself. “I’m okay, I’m totally fine,” you said grabbing his huge calloused hand with two of your soft ones. “I’m just not used to praises like that” “and why’s that?” he said tilting his head to the side. *he’s quite adorable* you thought with a soft smile “I don’t know” “well you should get used to it I’m only telling you how I see it” he said with a chuckle, you doing the same. The two of you enjoyed the silence together taking in the greenery surrounding the both of you. It was peaceful. It wasn’t until you looked over at him again and were met with him dozing off. “you can go to sleep if you want, I’ll be on the lookout if anything happens okay” you whispered trying not to wake him. and with that, he fell asleep.

You ended up falling asleep yourself while failing to keep your word. You were out for about 15 minutes until you felt someone pick you up. “I DIDNT MEAN TO WAKE YOU, MY APOLOGIES” he yelled waking you up completely as he lifted you onto his back a lot more energetic than he was before. “I should be the one apologizing, I said I was gonna wake you but I ended up falling asleep as well,” you said softly a blush appearing on your face. “NONSENSE, AT LEAST WE WERE ABLE TO GET A MOVE ON, BEFORE SUN DOWN, THAT WOULD BE A DISASTER” “you’re so loud you know” you chuckled “you also don’t have to carry me I can walk the rest of the way” “I DONT HAVE TO BUT IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE TO, ALTHOUGH I DONT KNOW WHERE YOUR ESTATE IS SO YOU WILL HAVE TO DIRECT ME” “okay,” you said burying your face into the crook of his neck

The two of you conversed the entire way home, he would ask you questions about your family and your life as you did the same. You found out that he has a younger brother and just by the way he explained him to you, you knew that they had a very strong bond with each other, you could tell how much he admired his younger brother it kinda felt like you knew him before getting the chance to know him. He also told you about his parents, you wanted to know more about them but the slight change in his tone told you everything you needed to know, plus you didn’t want to be nosy only realizing that the both of you didn't even know about the existence of each other earlier this morning so you bit your tongue.

“Thank you for taking me home, even though I told you I could walk myself” you nudged him. “I TOLD YOU ALREADY, IT IS ALRIGHT U DONT HAVE TO THANK ME, PLUS I WOULD NEVER BE ABLE TO FORGIVE MYSELF IF I LET SOMEONE AS PRETTY AS YOU GET HURT” it felt like the wind got knocked outta your system. “DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG?” He asked. “no, no it’s just..you think I'm pretty?” “OF COURSE, YOU'RE GORGEOUS” you took the chance and tested the waters a little bit. “so you’d walk anyone you find attractive home?” You asked “Have you ever walked the love Hashira home?” you said changing the question quickly. “NO, SHE ISNT EXACTLY MY TYPE, PLUS SHE'S MORE OF A LITTLE SISTER HAHA” “oh so you have a type?” the way he became tense made you laugh out loud. “I’m joking I just wanted to mess with you haha” Another wave of silence rushed past the both of you, it started to become awkward. “well I think I’m gonna call it a night, I’ll see you around” you began to turn around until he grabbed you by the wrist. “DO YOU WANT TO HANG OUT LATER ON?” “are you asking me out on a date?” “ONLY IF YOU WANT TO THOUGH, IT DOESNT HAVE TO BE A DA-“ he said his cheeks turning a deep shade of red. “I would love to” you smiled at him before parting ways.

©Boul3vvard. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. SO ANY FORM OF PLAGIARISM OF MY CONTENT WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.

[sadnesslaughs]

As a mage, your last test is to battle with another student using your magic. The only spell you memorize (before the duel) correctly is the ability to summon glitter!

(A response to a writing prompt)

“Glitter?” Lady Mari asked, cocking her head to the side. Unsure if she had heard her student correctly. She had asked him what spell he was planning to use, hadn’t she? “Glitter isn’t a spell. Now, please try to be serious about this. What spell are you using? Soul lock? Tendril snap? Ankle dissolver?” She listed some of her personally crafted spells, hoping to have passed on at least one technique to her student.

“No, the glitter spell.” Arvin opened his robes, causing three meerkats to tumble out. His familiars landing on top of each other, building a meerkat tower. The three raised their arms in the air, waiting for some applause from Lady Mari. When they noticed the serious scowl of their teacher, they dropped their arms and climbed up Arvins’ leg, returning to their spot in his pocket. Arvin soon found what he was looking for, handing over his spell book.

“A spell to turn a fountain into a chocolate fountain? A spell to give all cats party hats?” Mari flipped through the pages, noticing all the pages reeked of magical manipulation. She blew a huff of air over the book, the magic dissolving, revealing the proper spells underneath.

“Exactly. Isn’t the glitter spell the most effective one?”

“Someone tampered with your spell book. Seems foul play is afoot. It’s time for a quick refresher. I’ll teach you the stomach twister and you can-“

“Lady Mari. Sir Rylie and his student are ready. Please, come to the dueling hall now.” Lia rested a hand on her chest, giving a deep bow to Lady Mari. She then turned to Avin, giving him a nod.

“That serpent. I don’t care if you win or lose this fight, just get some glitter in Rylie’s eyes, too. What teacher approves of such a pathetic act?” Mari fumed, placing a hand on Arvin’s shoulder, leading him into the hall.

The hall was a simple room, having wooden floorboards with purple lines etched into them. These lines creating a sealing spell for the field, preventing low level magic from hitting people outside of the battles drawn lines. While there was a stand for spectators, rarely anyone ever came to watch an event between rookies, except maybe a few overeager parents or masters.

Mari and Rylie took their seats, the silver-haired master grinning as he looked Mari’s way, knowing he had assured a victory for his student. The tall, lean figure covered in his pure white robes, enjoying that look of purity that his soul lacked.

“Do you think the guild would be happy to learn of your tactics?” Mari asked, the middle-aged master glaring at her fellow teacher. She knew these academies could be harsh, but to sabotage other people’s students. She somehow still expected better of the people here. “What tactics? If he accidentally received a spell book, that’s been altered. I don’t see how that would be my fault. Students play pranks all the time. Look at your student. He’s been pranking us for months by pretending to have talent. It’s sad that you’re enabling his delusions.”

“IN THE EYES.” Mari yelled, not responding to Rylie anymore. She watched the field, frustrated beyond belief. Was this what it was like for every new teacher when they started out? Maybe she should go back to mercenary work.

“Nice eyes?” Arvins questioned, half hearing what his teacher said. He gave her a thumbs up, feeling a lot better after the compliment, even blinking those blue eyes of his as he entered the fighting square. He adjusted his robes, feeling the meerkats fumble about inside of them. “Come on, you can’t all stay in the one pocket. It’s too heavy. That’s why you keep falling out.” He whispered into his robes.

“Talking to yourself again?” Trina approached, standing tall with the confidence of her master. She had studied every spell in her spell book, there was nothing she wasn’t prepared for. She slipped her hood off, revealing her tanned face, brown eyes and curly black locks. “If you want to give up, you can. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“Why would I give up? I need to pass this test. If I give up, it’s an instant failure. Are you stupid?” Arvin said bluntly. Trina stood there, dumbfounded. That line had sounded so cool and his response was to question her intelligence?

“I’m not stupid. I’m simply trying to save you from embarrassing yourself, you absolute pea brained toad sniffer.” She snapped, losing her composure. “Now, spare yourself the embarrassment of losing to me.”

Arvin didn’t get what she was trying to do, too confused to get angry about her insults. “You’re the top of our class. Why would I get embarrassed about losing to you? You’re very talented.”

Trina stopped, pulling her hood over her face, covering her blush. This wasn’t going how she wanted it to. Did he not understand a mage’s desire for flare and theatrics before a fight? Now she felt embarrassed and weird about everything she had said.

Lia stood on the sideline, feeling second hand embarrassment from all of this. She grabbed her wand from the front of her floral dress and raised it into the air. “Mages, prepare for your battle. May the best mage win, begin.” A puff of smoke left the tip of the wand, and the two mages spun around, readying themselves.

“What are you planning? I can counter anything you throw at me.” Trina had practiced everything. She couldn’t be defeated, that confidence causing her to get a faceful of glitter. She spat out a mouthful of glitter, struggling to see anything but sparkles as she staggered backwards. “Ah, what the-? Bleh.”

Arvin rushed forward, doing what Mari taught him to do in a battle if he was out of spells. He delivered a powerful spear tackle, driving her into the ground of the hall, knocking the wind out of her.

“THAT CAN’T BE LEGAL. THIS IS A BATTLE OF MAGIC.” Rylie screamed, calling for order in this chaos.

“The body is a weapon, too, even if it is unconventional. The battle continues.” Lia overruled. There was no rule against punching or spear tackling an opponent. They felt no need to include a rule against it, as usually doing so in a battle of magic would result in the attacking party getting blasted by a powerful spell. This was a rare case when this tactic could be used.

“PUSH HER OUT OF BOUNDS.” Now it was Mari’s turn to scream, pointing to the line that Trina’s back was so close to touching.

“Quiet in the stands please or you will be removed.” Lia warned, watching the pair squirm on the floor as Arvin’s feet dug into the ground. His shoes squeaking against the floorboards as he tried to push her out.

She was so close to going out; her back was about to cross over only for her sight to return, giving her a chance to launch her counter attack. “Weightless.” She jabbed her wand into his stomach and suddenly Arvin was floating. This would have secured her a win, if not for the fact that Arvin had his arms wrapped around her stomach, sending them both into the air. “Let go.”

“You want me to let go?” Arvin dropped her, sending her plummeting towards that purple line.

Lia pointed her wand at an angle. “Wind of flight.” A gust of wind hit that angle and bounced off the floor, sending her skidding across the floorboards away from the line. Saving her from a sudden elimination. As she laid on the floor, she saw Arvin hovering above her, having repositioned himself in the air. “No…”

The time limit on her gravity spell running out, dropping Arvin towards the ground and straight towards Trina. Trina squealed, rolling out of the way as Arvin hit the floorboards with a thud, limping as he got to his feet. He grabbed Trina by the hood of her robe, about to push her towards the boundary line. Before he reached it, three dizzy meerkats rolled out of his robe, tripping Arvin up, sending him falling out of bounds.

“Are those meerkats?” Lia said, puzzled as the three meerkats laid in a pile, their fluffy heads spinning from the quick movements. “Oh, um.” She cleared her throat. “Trina is the victor of this battle.”

“YES. How does it feel to-“ Rylie didn’t get to finish his sentence before Mari started choking him, wrapping her hands around his neck as Lia sighed, walking up the stands. When she was in front of them, she flicked her wand, teleporting the pair down onto the field, both on opposite sides of it.

Mari clutched the air, annoyed. “Next time you cheat, I’m going to rip your head off.”

“C-cheat?” He coughed, rubbing his throat. “I didn’t cheat. Let’s go, Trina. You don’t have time for simpletons.”

Trina was about to check on the meerkats, only to get pulled away by Rylie. The pair leaving to discuss their victory while Arvin stayed on his back beside the meerkats, rolling onto his side to check on them. Apart from a bit of dizziness, his familiars were fine. The low level summons not exactly built for battle.

“I told you. Just because you have three low level summons, doesn’t make them stronger.” Mari helped Arvin to his feet, then she collected his meerkats, slipping them into his pocket. “You did well, considering they cheated. Guess this makes you a mage now, right? Doubt you will be considered a high ranking one given your lack of spells, but it’s a start, anyway. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. Does that mean you’ll get me a present?” Arvin begged. The three meerkats also poked their heads out, begging for something too, their little hands clutched together.

“Something small. Since you have to share it with your familiars. Come on, let’s go shopping then.”

“Before that. I have a question. What was this about cheating?” Lia asked.

“Someone manipulated Arvin’s spell book.”

“Do you have any evidence that may point to the culprit?”

“No. I blew the spell off the book when I noticed it. I should have handed it in so someone could have investigated the tampering. I do believe I know who did it. I don’t have any firm evidence to back it up, though.”

“I see. Even if you hadn’t blown the spell off, we probably wouldn’t have found the culprit. Unless someone witnessed the tampering, it’s anyone’s guess who did it. Still, you can both hold your heads up high. Arvin performed well. I’ve never seen Trina get flustered before.”

“Overconfidence is a dangerous thing.” Mari said, as she and Arvin headed out of the academy, going to do some shopping.

[infernal-scales]

NOSE SCRUNCHING from the onslaught of foul, moist smells, Crowley’s far too preoccupied with the sudden chaos of the situation to notice the clover scent and electrical charge of DIVINITY in the air.

Wine spilt, general drowning underneath soaked linens, and laughter echoing off marble walls, he shoos the apologetic servant away as he slips his legs from the heated water. An upward flick of his wrist is all that’s needed to prevent the actual drowning of Mr. General ( no reason to ruin the evening’s mood further ) and Crowley just managed to slink away unscathed when—

❝ CROWLEY! ❞ Great.

Pivoting on his heel, Crowley aims a smile at the one and only Caligula.

❝ Ave, Gaius! ❞ He sing-songs, approaching the rather naked king upon his crowded perch of the thermae. ❝ Excuse the interruption—you know how slick these floors become. Then you bring wine into the mix and…❞

Crowley tosses a look back at the general, who’s removing what could only be a loincloth from atop his flattened curls. He turns back with a smile and a shrug.

❝ ACCIDENTS ARE ABOUND. ❞

The Boy King can only laugh, a guarded little sound but nothing twisted in animosity, and the rest of his entourage join in. Bellies all laden heavy with drink, it seems.

❝ An unfortunate accident indeed: for General Aelius’s ego, that is. ❞ Another chorus of laughs before Caligula offers a hand for Crowley to take, one he doesn’t hesitate to do so to avoid the king’s infamous scrutiny. ❝ JOIN US, my friend. Strip yourself of the day and relax for a moment—dinner will be upon us shortly. ❞

Naked was such a dangerous state to be in, considering what followed was the removal of shades and the reveal of serpent eyes beneath. Crowley slots himself next to the king and falls into line, letting a clever hand descend upon sweat-glistening flesh as demonic lips caress Caligula’s ear.

❝ And allow myself to be bare for all to gaze? ❞ The serpent’s palm slowly slides from his sternum to his navel, fingers widening in what could only be described as AN ACT OF WORSHIP. ❝ I think such a privilege belongs only to you, my Gaius. ❞

Within the next moment, as a shudder runs down the king’s spine and a soft gasp escapes him, Crowley finds his wrist seized. There’s a brief moment of fear from pushing boundaries too far before he finds himself pulled into Caligula’s lap.

❝ You play TOO MANY GAMES, my Crowley, ❞ he rumbles, a smirk on his lips as glint of something dangerous flashes in his eyes. ❝ You don’t allow yourself to belong to anyone in this court, lest of all me. ❞

To lessen the brewing storm of animosity and paranoia, the demon melts against him, slipping lithe fingers into the short curls of Caligula’s nape. The gesture is returned with a royal mouth roaming across the long stretch of Crowley’s offered throat.

Caligula laughs once again and asks, for all to hear, ❝ Shall I CONQUER THE RED-HEADED DEVIL tonight? ❞

WHY HE NEVER! And apparently the guard hasn't either, judging by how he continues to drone about his unyielding faith to his most beloved wife, not a single thought of infidelity has ever struck his mind.

He can't say the same about her. Oh, woe is a one-sided love.

Aziraphale might be able to properly commiserate with his good fellow if he weren't glaring at Crowley's wily temptations from across the bathhouse. If one were to look closely, the steam above Aziraphale's head, credit the humid heat of the thermae, curls in righteous indignation at such a sordid sight.

Oh, SOMETHING WICKED it truly up in the King's court, no doubt.

How could he be so ignorant as to not put II and II together? In this case, Crowley's two hands and the two of this... this... well, whoever the gentleman was, he surely needed to reconsider the configuration of that beard.

To think Aziraphale had even considered sharing a platter of oysters with the FOUL FIEND. Well, he is certainly sober-minded now, and it's thanks to this newfound clarity that he reinstates the things as they ought to be:

He, one of truth, light, and, by the Almighty, DECENCY. Then there's the demon, who is ... well, just look at him!

A faint hint of that signature clover-like smell—the kind that fills the air just after an electrical storm—blesses the bathhouse, not that anyone would notice amongst the plethora of scents due to ample bodies, heat, and oils. A servant boy carrying his master's bundle of sopping wet towels slips on something unseen, crashing into the scene of PURE SIN.

The matted bundle of towels collapses upon the unsightly victim of temptation, who receives a faceful of rather putrid linen that had certainly see better days.

Hmph! Filled to the brim with Heavenly—and therefore, righteous—satisfaction, Aziraphale turns to his current company and says, ❝ Perhaps you should consider a GRAND GESTURE to show her how you truly feel. ❞

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Yamata-No-Orochi (End) Wild Things of the Light King’s Blood

Why is this series called Yamata-No-Orochi? Because the Yamata-No-Orochi is a serpent that holds the body of the White King. Why this is significant will be clear in the end. Please stay tuned. @rurifangirl by request

The old train continued its leisurely pace towards the city lights of Tokyo in the pouring rain. In the dark and the torrential downpour, one could easily imagine it was a ghost car. In a way, it was a ghost car, because the only passengers on board were two women who shouldn’t exist in the world.

One, a raven haired beauty from Russia who should have died 20 years ago in a bombing and the other, a red haired beauty from Japan who should have been a deadpool by now and until a few days ago was forbidden to see the sun.

The fiery haired girl cried quietly into the back of the head of her giant teddy bear while you, the black haired Russian, rubbed her back and whispered softly for her to let it all out. For now, you two were all you had for company. 

“Hey,” you say, “I know it seems like the end, but that man loves you.”

She looks up at you with wide red pupils and then scribbles something on the pad. “But my family doesn’t like him. I’ll never see him again.”

You gently tilt her head up, placing your fingertips under her little chin. “Remember what we said? Good friends are a little crazy. Don’t let things like family make you stop believing in your good friends, Erii.”

Even though you were younger than Erii by 3 years, she already looked up to you as an older woman and nodded obediently.

“I want to be more than your good friend though.” You roll up your shirt under your bra and show her the mottling of golden scales that had started to appear since last night. “We share the blood of the White King and a common sickness. I want to be your sister.”

Her eyes expanded. She scribbled down. “I’ve always wanted a sister!”

“Did you wish for one over the sea? Because this dream has come true. Hm…” You hum to yourself. “Let’s make it official in a vow of sisterhood.”

She sat up straight, her expression serious.

You place your hand over your heart. “I, MC, hereby vow to be the Sister of Erii Uesugi. We are bound by blood and by love. We will never betray each other. We will always defend each other. And when one calls for help, we will dash to their rescue and if anyone comes between us, may they die!”

Erii scribbled down in her notebook those same words and then she signed her name, and you signed yours. 

You continued to make up this silly ritual. “Now, put your hand against my hand, sister.”

Your palms met. 

“Twine your fingers.”

You clasp your hands together. Once she bought into it. You reach across with your other hand and goose her ribs!

Erii squealed and then clapped her hand over her mouth in terror! But you didn’t break your smile. You only giggled. “Sisters do things like this.” You say.

Her face was red with fear but also a bit of indignation, but underneath it all was joyous warmth. “I will find a way to trick you too!”

You sit back. “Sister, I want to ask you something. How is it that you can live so long? Your physical condition is not good. I felt it when I touched you. You have so many more scales than me.”

She scribbled down for a long time before turning the page to you. “I live because of the serum injections. The injections contain fetal blood of deadpool. Because the blood is embryonic, it has a purifying and not corrupting effect.”

“Hm…” That’s why deadpool spawning tanks were under Genji Heavy Industries. They were being bred and the blood of the fetuses were being injected into Erii. “Thank you.”

“If you come with me, I will convince my brother to treat you.” She writes.

You place your hand over hers. “Don’t worry for me. I have time. I already have a man who has guaranteed my safety.”

Erii’s mouth made a little ‘o’.

“I need to return to him. So I will get off the train early. Please rest and get better so I can take you dog sledding.”

The train made its meandering track towards Tokyo. You were one stop before Matsuyama station, however, the train started to slow. It was far too late to be picking up passengers.

Erii had fallen asleep in your arms and you tilted her head away from you and reached for your deadpool claw dagger. A man in a long cloak stepped onto the train. When his foot landed at the door, the entire car tilted as though he weighed thousands of pounds! The rainwater was rising off him in a steaming cloud and when he breathed, he hissed like a steam engine.

You give Erii one last glance and decide it was not time to be subtle or afraid. You would simply disappear with this monster. You rush forward, as fast as a pouncing lioness! The deadpool under the cloak surged with blue light, lifting its cloak and revealing its dinosaur clawed feet, and its blue-black scaled body. It arced its back and opened its mouth to roar, but you throw the dagger into its throat to silence it and then take a flying leap and kick it out of the train car. 

You both land hard on the platform and you snatch your dagger out from the back of its throat and land in a crouch to face it.

The beast chokes black blood a moment, lying on its back under the platform lights and then flips completely onto all fours in a single motion! 

You leap backwards and it lands where you were, cracking the concrete beneath.

The train rumbles off to continue its journey to Tokyo the Matsuyama Station, while you lure the beast away from the car. It was an open air station with several spaces for busses. But the busses were no longer running. There wasn’t much cover and the streets were empty of people.

From your lesson in Genji, you understood that the nervous center is the weak point. But this beast came armed with vertebral spines to protect that sensitive area. 

A strange whistling noise comes from above and you leap to one side. A dark shape pierces the ground where you stood and then lifts, carrying bits  of concrete with it. The shape moved like a loose cable, waving in the air to toss aside the rubble. Then it descends! You throw yourself back, narrowly escaping being impaled! It whips and the tip slashes side to side, nearly taking your head off and tearing into your T-shirt.

The deadpool was crouching low, a distance away, but a long tail, twice as long as the length of its body, was waving. A single muscle twitch sends the barbed sword-like tail tip into the ground with stunning accuracy! 

You nod once and start backing up. The beast spider-walks toward you and the tail lashes out! You leap up and the sword tail slices clear through a street lamp behind you. The lamp crashes down towards the monster and shatters. Even though the lamp missed, it was enough distraction to let you get inside its tail range. You run directly towards it. Its mouth opens to reveal six inch long sharp teeth and it lifts a hand full of daggers.

Your movements are delicate and precise, threading the needle between the deadly bite and the deadly piercing hooks to plunge your dagger into the side of its neck and draw down, slicing through its throat, but you hit only muscle. The neck itself was armored! Now that you were inside, however, you would not back away. You leap to the other side, committing little non-lethal cuts to its back that wouldn’t hurt at all, trying to find an opening through the bony plates. The beast chases you in a tight circle, spinning in the street. You can see the serrations on its teeth. The thin lines of saliva in its mouth. You breathe in its foul breath.

You have taken hold of one of its dorsal spines nearest the back of its head. So the faster it turns, the faster you turn, like a dog chasing its tail. You pierce it again and again until the spine starts to lift off its back.

Then you mount it, its blood soaking between your legs and you stab downward, looking for the spine. Frustrated and in agony, the beast rears up, lifting you nearly 10 feet in the air in an instant, screaming, tail waving. You scramble to hold on and not get thrown by the momentum. Your eyes widen as you hear that deadly whistle and you let go and crash to the ground hard.

You sit up and the beast is standing upright, mouth open in shock, the barbed tip of its own tail protruding through the back of its own head! You were like an annoying fly that landed on its head and it killed itself in its attempt to swat you. It falls forward so hard that cracks appear in the ground where it lands.

You sit wondering. You were someone who was adept at using the God’s Eyes fighting technique, but this time you surprised yourself.

Screeching tires heralded a roaring black sedan as it careered around the corner. The window was down and a long rifle emerged from it! You turned and scrambled to your feet. The bullet shattered against the wall of a building, blowing dust and stinging bits of masonry into your face. Your eyes scan for cover but there is none sufficient to shield you. That bullet was big enough to completely shatter your skull!

Your heart leaps at the sight of a tall figure in the dark who was suddenly illuminated by headlights. He was dressed in period clothing, a long red Kimono with flowing ornamental embroidery of Lycoris Radiata.  He pulled a red sheath from his sleeve as you ran toward him, gasping in desperation. As soon as he pulled the sword from its sheath, a great wind gust blew by you.

The black sedan collides with that wind and bursts apart, shattering as if it hit a concrete barrier head on. 

Ruri Kazama holds the bright silver blade aloft and you duck behind him, and then he brings it down hard. Another blade like wind slices the car clean in half. 

“How did you know I was here?” You gasp.

“There was a report of a deadpool. I may not be a member of Hydra or of Cassell, but all Hybrid species have an obligation to clear these beasts. I’ll let my brother’s men take care of the rest of this mess. Come, we need to hide.” When he gathers you against the silk of his cloak you can smell the scent of tobacco.

Hand in hand, you run through the heavy rain to a waiting car. As soon as you’re inside, it peels off into the night, driving full speed and crashing through the deep street flooding. “Ruri Kazama. I gave you all my star-hearts.”

“I know. I’ve been looking for you, but you disappeared.”

You look up into his dark eyes. They were serious as they scanned you for injuries. You quickly gasp and cover your torn shirt with your arms. “I want to join you to help you defeat Herzog. Caesar and Chu Zihang cannot bear my presence any longer. They fear I might lose control. Caesar says I’m better with my own kind.”

Ruri turns away from you. “Then you care nothing for me?”

You gasp hurriedly. “That’s not it at all. It turns out you were right. I am a perishing flower. I just didn’t know anything. But… I’m not giving up. I don’t think my death is inevitable. And I won’t throw my life away for anyone. I don’t want you to either.”

He stares down at you and you realize that he is older than you but not by much. He is older in spirit. Looking up at him was like looking at an ancient dragon. His long black hair frames his gentle boyish face and again your eyes blur the line between man and woman.

“If you will have me, I’ll be yours.” You say. “Only, you must fight to live and not to die. You must not die for me. That is not noble. It's terrible! I don’t care what anyone else says. Understand?” You look into those eyes and you’re again reminded of an impossibly deep pool where  you couldn’t ever see the bottom. His eyes were like the lake of Baikal that reached down, deep and cold into the center of the Earth’s crust.

He was silent. You feel like you’re stepping out of bounds, but you have to have this promise. This was nothing like the touching moment between you and Chance. You feel like your spilling your guts in a hurry, rushing through the vows on your wedding day. “Don’t throw your life away. Not for me. Not for anyone. Are you listening? If death comes, it comes but don’t you give yourself to it. Don’t! Find another way out. Or fight.”

His silence sent cracks up and down your fragile heart and then you remembered that you couldn’t accept this either at first. It took three times before you stopped seeking death.

Much to your shock, you return to the Takamagahara Night Club. You wonder if he’s getting rid of you. You both get out of the car and he holds out an umbrella over your head and cradles your body under his arm. Together, you walk through the doors. “You live here right? The other aces have not returned yet. Bathe and dress and meet me behind the bar.”

One of the waiters offers you a large jacket over your shivering shoulders.

His eyes are still serious and deep, but they had softened looking at you. “I accept your proposal.”

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Episode 43 Review: Curiouser and Curiouser

{ YouTube: 1 | 2 | 3 }

{ Full Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

Maljardin, an isle of mystery. Much remains unknown on Jean Paul Desmond’s isolated island, including the locations of the conjure doll, silver pin, and the missing cyanide, the contents of the final week of Dr. Menkin’s missing notes, and the true cause of death of Jean Paul’s beloved wife Erica. Now that a mysterious black rabbit has appeared on the island which has known no wildlife for three hundred years, new mysteries arise, including one that literally surrounds that rabbit’s neck.

In Ian Martin’s original timeline, this would be the point where the Reverend Matt Dawson exorcised Raxl and Quito’s writing box (although whether that would have revealed the Conjure Man’s also mysterious original message is anyone’s guess), but executive meddling required him to negate that timeline and write about the Rabbit of Evil instead. Come, let’s follow the black rabbit into the increasingly bizarre rabbit hole that is mid-Maljardin-era Strange Paradise.

A minute and a half in, and Cosette Lee is already in top form. Chew that scenery, Cosy!

We open with a recap of the séance from a week and a half ago, courtesy of Raxl and Jean Paul. Raxl gives us the great line above comparing the falling chandelier to “a fist of the devil,” which she delivers beautifully. She connects the falling chandelier to the rabbit who just appeared--or, as she calls it, "this THING that mocks the problem!"

This is Jean Paul’s concerned face.

When she reminds him that the black rabbit appeared out of nowhere on the island which previously harbored no wild animals, he looks increasingly concerned. Whereas in yesterday's episode, he dismissed her claims as superstition and the rabbit as a harmless animal that probably came over on the boat, now he appears willing to think them over. At least that’s how it appears in this part of the scene, although it’s also possible that he’s just worried about Raxl’s sanity. Raxl may be melodramatic and she may sometimes go to extremes in her efforts to protect her home from THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES, but she is arguably saner than you are, Jean Paul.

"Oh, master, believe me!" she begs. "This…thing, this…thing in the form of an animal is a manifestation of evil!"

“Evil, in your eyes, Raxl,” corrects Jean Paul, or so he thinks.

“Not only mine. Look at Quito. He has eyes, too. He knows. Oh, master, believe me! This black rabbit is an emissary of DEATH!”

Jean Paul continues his mansplaining.

Oh, Jean Paul! To think, I had so much hope for you! I guess that, even after repeated possessions, Dr. Menkin's mysterious death, a leaking capsule, a falling chandelier, and all the things that have happened to Holly, you still refuse to believe in "superstition." You know that, down in Hell, Jacques is kicking back in his peacock chair, gloating about this again:

Jacques: “Jean Paul, what was that again about your IQ of 187?” *evil laugh*

"Then how could it be on Maljardin?" she asks.

"The supply boat, perhaps," he repeats from last episode. "Holly Marshall had no trouble in hiding herself in order to get over here. Surely a small animal like this would be even less likely to be noticed." It sounds plausible, but it’s still doubtful that the rabbit would have lasted so long after the supply boat returned to Maljardin without eating some poisonous plant and dying. I doubt that Quito leaves fresh produce just lying around on the boat.

"If you want to, believe that," replies Raxl, "but I believe it is possessed by EVIL!"

"Raxl, it seems that you are the one who is possessed by fear.”

"It seems the Devil is possessing us all, quietly, cunningly, and each day just a little more," she says, before leaving for the crypt. Quito follows behind, carrying the rabbit, who is just as enthusiastic as it was last episode about being part of one of Canada's first domestically-produced soaps. The way it squirms trying to escape from Quito’s arms in the crypt scene is priceless:

ROFLMAO

Meanwhile, Jean Paul argues with Jacques about the rabbit. Jacques agrees with Raxl on the rabbit's supernatural origins, which further angers Jean Paul. He asks him why he wants to convince him of that, and Jacques gives this cryptic reply: "Big beings have little beings on their backs to spite them, and little beings have smaller beings, and so on, ad infinitum."

"Now, perhaps Raxl is right," Jean Paul muses. "Now just what is in your mind?"

"Perhaps you'll find out at the séance," Jacques teases. He goes on to suggest to him that perhaps Erica did not want to be frozen in the "ridiculous" cryonics capsule. Jean Paul gets all defensive in response and accuses him of trying to break their pact. "Isn't it about time that you delivered her back to me?" he demands.

"We'll find out at the next séance," says Jacques, and Jean Paul demands that he not attend. Jacques implies that there may not be another séance (but why not?), and Jean Paul flips out on him:

FEAR the finger of DOOM!

The acting from both Colin and Cosette in this episode is so over-the-top that it’s somewhere in outer space.

And then...

The Reverend Matt Dawson walks in on him arguing with Jacques and thinks that he was talking to himself.

How does Jean Paul respond? Why, by gaslighting him, of course! “It’s hard to imagine that a man of the cloth would lose control so easily,” he says as though Matt were the one with a screw loose. Now, isn’t that charming?

Matt warns Jean Paul that the people on Maljardin--himself included--are looking for an escape. "We are not children, and we are not completely powerless," he tells Jean Paul. "We will find a way to cut the knots that bind us here."

He also says that his faith, which was challenged when he arrived on the island, is returning. Jean Paul uses this as another opportunity to gaslight him: “You are not regaining your faith. You are merely losing your faculties.” One would think that was a Jacques line, but it’s not. There’s neither a shot of the portrait disappearing, nor any Jean Paul headache faces followed by Jacques’ beringed hand grabbing his face, nor is Fox-C grinning psychotically like Jacques would probably do while saying that. It’s Jean Paul at his most unpleasant.

“On Maljardin, only I speak,” he continues. “Others listen.” It’s like he’s determined to be as much of an asshole as possible in this episode. Bless his heart.

But all the despotic orders in the world won’t shut the Reverend up. “Now I know why I came to Maljardin,” he replies, and it’s not to stalk a twenty-year-old teenager. “It was my destiny to be a force of good among all the evil here.”

“A savior?” Jean Paul asks.

“Perhaps,” he replies. “Is there one here who needs saving from himself?”

Sometimes I wonder if Reverend Dawson was intended to be the real hero of SP.

Raxl and Quito enter the Not-So-Hidden Temple of the Serpent with the rabbit. She pleads and begs for the Serpent to give her answers about the Rabbit of Evil, calling the adorable animal a “monster.” This scene is classic Raxl and belongs on any list of Raxl’s best scenes. Here are my two favorite lines from it:

Raxl: "Speak to me, Great One, for the sake of my master and his beloved visitors and for all the spirits in this house who are roasting on the spit of the fire of evil. OPEN YOUR SPEECH TO MY UNDERSTANDING!"

"Quito, TAKE THIS EVIL THING! Its foulness has stilled temporarily the voice of the Great Serpent!"

But it doesn’t stilt the Serpent for long. The mysterious locket at the beginning of this review appears around its neck, where it wasn’t before. When Raxl touches it, it stains her hand with blood.

Meanwhile, in Jean Paul’s hidden monitor room...

Jean Paul: "Erica, my darling, I wonder how you will find me when at last we are together again? I fear the strain of all this has made me hard and cynical. The Reverend is good, twice the man he was when he first arrived. If only he could see the rightness of my cause, he would make such an ally for my purposes." [You’re deluding yourself, Jean Paul. You have zero chance of convincing Matt that your cryonics scheme is anything but blasphemy.]

"Some serve me, to their honor and reward. Some cross me--to their death!"

*reading Teleprompter* "No one understands. There is an inner circle, my love, and it is big enough for just the two of us."

Jean Paul: "My darling, the second séance is very close at hand. The Conjure Woman recovers and this time nothing will stop us!"

*more obvious Teleprompter reading* "You will come, you will speak, and at last for the first time, for just a little while, you and I will be together."

He’s so cute! <3

Like the previous episode, it’s obvious that they rushed this one even in comparison to the others, because of how often Fox-C reads the Teleprompter. I’ve noticed that he does so more often starting during this week of the show and increasingly until Cornelius Crane takes over writing the show--which won’t be for another two weeks--before slowly petering out until Desmond Hall. I see this as a measure of how hastily an episode was slapped together, although I could be making assumptions.

Anyway, Raxl asks Quito if he noticed the bloody locket before, and he shakes his head. “I am right!” exclaims Raxl about her belief that the rabbit was a demon. She follows this up by asking the Serpent, “Where did it come from?” and we cut to the camera panning over the cryonics capsule:

Obvious foreshadowing is obvious.

Quito leaves the temple to find Matt and Holly sneaking into the crypt, and chases them back up to the Great Hall. Holly demands to know where the rabbit is and Raxl (who enters just then) announces that it ran away!

“Discovered something, didn’t you?” Matt asks Raxl. He asks if she found the doll and pin or the week of missing notes, to which she answers no and no. “For Heaven’s sake, what? Another demon?”

Just as baffled as I am that a Christian minister like him doesn’t believe in demons, she accuses him of mocking her. He accuses her of turning irrational, which means that Jean Paul’s “everyone is irrational but me” delusion must be rubbing off on him. Holly accuses Raxl of having already killed the rabbit.

“Foolishness! Madness!” Raxl shouts. “I tell you that-”

Matt interrupts to point to the rabbit, who, despite its tall ears, is somehow able to sleep through this argument. Must have selective hearing.

Holly grabs the rabbit and Raxl starts screaming for her to hand it over. “IT IS EVIL! IT MUST BE KILLED!” she cries as Matt restrains her. “IT MUST BE DESTROYED BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE!” Fortunately for Holly (but unfortunately for Raxl), Jean Paul hears the commotion and comes downstairs to take the rabbit from them.

When he does, we hear the sound of a small object dropping. He leans over to pick it up and reveals the strangest detail so far in this mystery:

Jean Paul: "This locket…" Raxl: "Yes, master, I-" Jean Paul: *more pained* "This locket…was…Erica's!"

Everyone’s jaw drops--which we see in a series of close-ups of all five human actors in this episode--and the music swells. After commercial, Raxl tearfully reveals that Jean Paul gave Erica the locket on her birthday, and tells Jean Paul and the others that she knows that the locket was not around the rabbit’s neck until after she called upon the Serpent. Holly accuses her of being superstitious, and they get into a fight where Raxl tells Holly that she and her fellow Christians don’t understand the spirit world and Holly calls Raxl’s beliefs “mumbo-jumbo.” Matt also accuses Raxl of lying about how the locket appeared “so that we would believe in spirits and demons.” I know that not all Christian denominations believe in the literal existence of spirits and demons, but it’s still odd hearing the Reverend deny their existence.

Raxl calls him a fool, too, and says once again that the rabbit must be killed. She and Holly are about to go back to arguing when Jean Paul cries out, “YOU ARE ALL WRONG!” And then we have yet another shocking revelation: Erica was wearing the locket upon her death, and still when she was entombed in the cryonics capsule!

Somehow he’s able to get the rabbit to hold still for a few minutes, even with all the shouting in the final scene.

In case anyone’s wondering why this entry took so long, it’s because I’ve also been working on a couple posts reviewing Ian Martin’s entire period headwriting this show. That’s what I plan to do at the end of each arc or at the end of each writer’s stint on the show (with the exception of those writers who only wrote a few episodes, like James Elward, Joe Caldwell, and the team of Ron Chudley and George Salverson). You can expect my two-part review of Ian Martin’s SP shortly after my review of Episode 44, which may also be slightly delayed because of it.

Coming up next: Ian Martin’s final episode, the much-anticipated second séance and its shocking conclusion.

{<- Previous: Episode 42   ||   Next: Episode 44 ->}

[monkeyandelf]

The Qliphoth: powers of darkness

Even if the dark and infinite ocean of non-physical reality escapes any attempt at mapping, the Qliphoth offer esoteric landmarks to those who venture beyond the far side of the Moon. This system of progressive self-initiation of the senestral way helps to structure an unknown territory by introducing a form of rationality understandable by ordinary consciousness in an occult domain. Each Qliphoth represents a state of consciousness involving the development of certain faculties through trial, study and contemplation of symbols. Mastering the energies present in each sphere opens access to the next qliphah.

If we refer to Kabbalah to position the Qliphoth on the nocturnal face of the tree of life, domain of the Sephiroth, the tree of death is accessible by Daath, the hidden Sephira making the link between the two aspects of the same reality. Although the night / day, good / bad, life / death duality is not ultimately relevant, it is advisable to start by exploring the tree of life before venturing into the shadow of this knowledge. Indeed, choosing this perilous and lonely path is not a decision to be taken lightly. Motivated by the desire for dazzling advances and the acquisition of supranormal powers, the follower cannot ignore the dangers that await him. He consciously enters the centers of power, taking the risk of losing what he has, what he is, what he knows. It is a sacrifice where madness, depression, hopelessness and perdition are potentially present.

Silence and darkness reign inviting to the sobriety of emotions and thoughts. Only the one whose inner strength has become unshakable by a preliminary asceticism is able to face the monsters lurking in the shadows who will try to devour him. The terror of annihilation is its guardian, the test that warns and discourages those who are not ready. Being ready to lose everything is the sine qua non for overcoming obstacles as a master, capable of transforming them into powerful levers towards forbidden knowledge. Equanimity, discrimination, unshakable self-confidence and fortitude are the weapons that will allow the initiate to continue, to go ever further without being destroyed but recreated for the birth of the living demonic god.

The promises of the Qliphoth attract those who desire full realization by integrating light and shadow beyond the primary dualities. Wisdom advises to follow a prudent progression without skipping the stages under the excess effect of an immature pride. The keen senses and intuition detect and analyze anomalies, hallucinatory aberrations of a twilight consciousness in order to realize a potential beyond imagination.

The 11 levels of the Qliphoth way:

By way of information and in order to give a more “concrete” idea of ​​what the initiation of the Qliphoth may involve, you will find below the translation of a text describing the different spheres. These descriptions are not absolute but rather fall under the subjectivity of the author (Asenath Mason) and in no way constitute a dogmatic truth. What everyone finds on their journey is personal and can take different cultural and symbolic forms. Maybe these descriptions of Qliphoth will speak to you, maybe not. Make your own way, find out for yourself what is hidden in each sphere of power. Only the interior transformation process is universal, but remains in the elusive, eluding definitions and classifications. LILITH (Queen of the Night): The door to the Unknown. Here, the initiate comes into contact with his first guides and allies on the way, and consciousness opens up to the realm of Night. Lucifer’s ascending flame is lit and Lilith approaches to guide the initiate through the paths of the dark path. The divinity of the first Qliphah is Naamah, dominating the material world. She can grant the magician the desired material goods but she is endowed with a despotic character which is difficult to manage. Naamah is Lilith’s demonic sister, both of whom often introduce themselves as the first guide to entering the dark worlds. GAMALIEL (The obscene): The astral sphere of dreams. Here the initiate explores the mysteries of witchcraft and sexual alchemy. The goddess of the Moon reigns there, she introduces the follower to the secrets of moon magic. In the sphere of Gamaliel, all forbidden fantasies, suppressed lust and shameful dreams are brought to light. The Goddess of Gamaliel is Lilith, appearing as a sensual woman with a snake body. It seduces the magician and guides him in the dark aspects of our instincts. She is the Queen of Demons, and reigns with Lucifer over the entire Qliphothic Tree. SAMAËL (The poison of God): The Alchemical poison is ingested by the magician who succumbs to its toxic effects. His conscience must overcome trials in which madness, doubt and disbelief assail him. It is about contact with the personal, deadly Shadow, it teaches the initiate the mysteries of Death and the flight of the soul. Here in the Adramelech Desert, the faith and devotion of the follower are tested. Adramelech is the sovereign entity of this Qliphah under the appearance of a half-peacock, half-human creature. It gives the magician pride and magnificence, which, however, are only illusory and contribute to the initiatory test. A’ARAB ZARAG (The Crow of Dispersion): The Mysteries of Venus and Luciferian Magic. The initiate takes the path of mystical eroticism and war trials. Aab Zaraq breeds destruction, often through war, conflict and death. The God reigning over this Qliphah is Baal, the god of war. He has the appearance of a warrior with a horned mask and armed with a spear. He instructs the magician in the art of invisibility and teaches him about Luciferian freedom. His wife and reigning Goddess of this sphere is the Dark Venus, initiator of new mysteries of sexual magic. THAGIRION (The Opponent): The illumination of the dark side by the light of the Black Sun. The initiate experiences the union of god and the beast in him, and realizes the idea of ​​embodied divinity. Thagirion is the sphere of the Daemon, the image of the personal god, and of the beast 666, continually striving to dominate human instincts. The reigning God of this Qliphah is Belphégor, The God of Death. Belphégor was originally a Moabite deity named Baal-Peor, half male-solar and female-lunar. During magic works, it manifests itself in its bestial form but also in the appearance of a young woman. It gives the magician imagination and wealth. GOLACHAB (The Burning One): The Apocalypse. The initiate becomes the Fire of Destruction. Through SM sexual practices, the initiate is tested in suffering and lust. It is the Qliphah of fire – comprising both the creative flame and the destructive breath. The Qliphah is the domain of Asmodeus, who appears as a winged and flaming god. It represents both the power of fire and the power of sexuality. The incubi and succubi of this sphere are the strongest and most violent of the whole Qliphotic Tree. GHA’AGSHEBLAH (The executioner): The other side of mystical eroticism. The initiate goes through trials of war and love and becomes the executioner. The energies of this Qliphah bring life or destruction. They destroy the substance of Creation at the base of the foundation of the Universe. The reigning deity of this sphere is Astaroth, the foul-smelling spirit, riding the Dragon and holding a snake in his hand. He sees beyond the past, the present and the future. He is also the patron of the Liberal Arts. DAATH: The Vision of the Abyss and the encounter with Chorozon, the gatekeeper. SATARIEL (The illusionist): The opening of the Eye of Lucifer. The initiate faces trials where surrealism and absurdity dominate, and learns to detect the Truth in what is hidden. Appearances are deceptive. Lucifuge presides over this Qliphah, the one who avoids the light. Its description appears in many medieval and Renaissance grimoires on hierarchies of demons. It reveals hidden treasures but can also make the magician lose his mind. GHAGIEL (The destroyer): The lightning of the Luciferian star. The initiate breaks Divine Law and prepares to enter Lucifer’s Throne Room. It is the Qliphah of rebellion and the shaking of the foundations of the world. The dominant entity in this sphere is Belzebuth, the Lord of the Flies. THAUMIEL (The Twins of God): Fulfillment of the Serpent’s Promise. The initiate becomes God incarnate. This Qliphah is double with two reigning entities: Satan and Moloch. Thaumiel is the antithesis of Kether. The original meaning of Satan is the Opponent. In the Old Testament he was the accuser and he tried and tested the faith of humans by misleading them. Moloch was a cannaanite deity whose worship involved the sacrifice of children by fire. Source link Read the full article

[booai]

Once upon a road pt. 2

The carriage came to a stop with a clank that woke Fen up from his light slumber. Tired from the long stretch of land they had covered in the past week, Byla had let him take a nap in the back while she on the reigns. It was a rare luxury Fen had exploited to the fullest.

After yawning, he climbed out of the carriage and landed with a thump on the soft ground. They had arrived to a village. It looked very small and humble. Only a few raggedy pitiful houses stood by the farmside. The fields were lush with yellow hay, ready for harvest in few weeks time.  

“Take these bags, will you?”  

Byla appeared, and pointed on the ground. She was leading their trustworthy gelding by the reigns, ready for desattling. Fen flinged the packs over his shoulder.

“What’s this place?”  

“Rest can stay for now.” She ignored him and let out an enlongated sigh and began walking toward the houses.

Fen followed, looking around the environment. Some people were working in the fields, maidens tending to some oxes in the enclosure. No children running around could be seen.

They went around the corner of a house. There was a young dunmer sitting on the porch. She was leaning her head into her bandaged arms, seated on the stairs. Her reddish hair braided messily and her face rusely bored or tired. Her ashen skin was too pale, too sickly grey.

As Byla and he approached, she got up with slight effort, propping on the fence pole beside her.

“You really came?” She let out a scoff that sounded mocking.

Byla pursed her lips and walked up the stairs, past the woman, who turned to follow her.  

“Naturally.” She retorted neutrally and let herself into the house, through a raggedy door.

Fen wasn’t quite sure what he should do, still standing in the yard by the porch. The mer glanced at him, her brows furrowed, before she turned to follow Byla in. He decided to at least take the baggage inside and stepped forward as well.  

“I see that you are still able to walk around.” he heard Byla say as he stepped in. Inside the hut she had settled behind a big table.

“It must not be deadly.”

The red-headed mer sunk down on a chair by the table with a sigh. Sweat was dripping off her face. The walk must have been a stretch in her obvious condition.

“Lucky me.”

Byla discarded the scarf she had wrapped around her shoulders. Daylight came through the dirty windows and highlighted all of the cobwebs and rubble accumulated around the room. The hut was dusty and messy, it looked like it had been abandoned until recently.  

Fen stood awkwardly at the threshold, peeking in.  

Byla signed him in further, rather impatiently. “Come on then. I need supplies from the packs.”

He jolted into action and walked up to them.  

“And who’s this brat?”, the woman let out tauntingly, as she followed him with her gaze. Their eyes met, both pitch black. In hers, Fen saw something he couldn’t quite fathom. She smirked slightly, her sickly face not managing to cooperate all the way.

Byla reached out for the packs while sitting down next to the younger mer, facing her.

“My associate.” Byla hummed, her wrinkly face remaining stoic. “My bodyguard. You needn’t worry about him.”

She laid open one of the packages, revealing various medical supplies, neatly organized in tiny bottles and compartments. The woman scoffed again and laid her bandaged hand on the table. It was shaking slightly, as if she couldn’t control it.

Fen backed out. He looked around the hut absent-mindedly. Little food and supplies were scattered around the kitchen area. A scruffy mattress was laid in the corner by the window, some soiled-looking rags on it. She must have stayed here a while.  

“So it was a Daedric ruin? How long was the contact with the artifact?” She had laid out fresh sheets of bandage and some jarred salves, she always brewed by the fire. Gently, she took the woman’s injured hand in her own to observe it. As she started unwrapping the cloth around it, the woman hissed out. She yelped at the contact, but Byla kept going.

“Maeri.”  

Fen was surprised to hear Byla’s tone so demanding.

“How long?”

Maeri let out a groan. “I don’t know. Long enough to fucking hurt. To catch the curse from it. Gods.”  

She turned her pale face away and bit her lip. Underneath the last layer of bandages, Fen could see a faint blackish, purplish glow. It intensified as Byla scrapped away all the cloth.  

It lay on Maeri like goo burned on her skin, like a serpent wrapped around her arm. A brand, that seemed almost living. Her hand was shaking.  

“No salve will heal this.” Byla frowned and hovered her hand above the brand.  

“It is an Oblivion curse, sapping away your lifeforce. I need to do a purifying spell.”  

She reached briefly to brace the amulet hanging on her chest and stood up, pushing the chairs out of the way with her foot.  

“Fen. I need you to hold her arm still, please.”  

He moved at command to the table.  

“Try not to touch the brand.”  

He nodded and placed his hands on Maeri who was still sitting down.

“Wait. Wait!”  

Fen let go as she screamed. She breathed rapid, trying to control the shaking consuming her body. She clenched her fist and drooped her head.  

“It will burn for a while.” Byla had finished preparing the spell and was looking at her lips pursed.  

“Fuck, okay, do it then!”

Fen placed his hands again and turned his head to side. He knew to expect the bright light of the purification spell. The energy was tingling his skin. The spell illuminated the hut, flashed blinding for close to a minute.  

When it faded, Maeri lay against the table, unmoving, unconscious. Byla sighed, and wiped her brow.

--

Fen was sitting on the kitchen floor, re-lacing his leather boots, when Maeri suddenly flinched awake. She sat up in surprise, disoriented.  

She had been sleeping roughly a day’s time. Restless and painful sleep that had disturbed Fen’s own attempts to fall asleep.  

Byla was outside, probably mending the carriage or feeding their mount.  

He looked at the other mer. She looked a lot healthier now, her ashen skin regaining its depth. The braided hair in her back had come loose. Now, he thought, she looked a lot younger than he had first observed. Maybe four or five summers his senior.  

She raised her newly healed hand, examined it from every angle. The curse was gone.  

She turned to him with a nasty look on her face.  

”Are you done ogling?”

He was, so he focused back on the shoes. He felt brave about staying where he was. As much as he was cautious of the other mer, he was also curious.  

Byla had been tight-lipped since yesterday, retreating to solitude. She had not even told him to study.  

Maeri stretched her arms out and kicked the rags off her feet. She released the rest of her hair and ruffled it more loose. Then settled to lean against her knees on the edge of the mattress.  

“Shouldn’t you have some beef to be a guard?”  

Fen turned to her, surprised she talked to him, when she so blissfully ignored him before.

“Though, maybe you’ll grown into your bones soon. You look like you would.”

She chuckled at his confused look. She stayed there, smirking back at him for an uncomfortable while.

“Aw, don’t scrunch up your face. It’ll make you ugly when you’re old.”

Fen didn’t know what to answer her.  

Ruffling her hair more, she finally stood up. Still a little wobbly on her feet, she went to the table and picked up some meats laid on it.  

Fen finished lacing the left shoe and decided to move to the porch to do the rest. Out of her way and gaze.  

As he sat down on the wood outside, he heard vigorous rambling from inside. He leaned in to peek from the door he had left open, but couldn’t see her.  

In a while Maeri stomped out, flinging her boots over her shoulder. She had changed her clothes and apparently packed up all of her stuff. There were small knives strapped onto her leather vest... some more knives on her trousers.

She sat down on the porch as well. Fen deliberately focused on his boot, avoided looking at her.  

“So what is she actually making you do?”  

Maeri mused while pulling her own shoes on.

“I don’t know what you mean. She helped me, I help her. Teaches me to control my magic and stuff.”

Byla crossed the corner, holding a feeding basket and approached them.

Maeri flung her face at her.

“Oh, he’s a mage?” She laughed out, thrillingly.

“What a joy, you finally got yourself a new test subject.”

Byla stopped in her tracks.

“You might think she's such a grand teacher. Once a revered member of House Telvanni, always by the book and rule.” She leaned closer to Fen, but then turned to look at Byla, smiling nastily.  

“I finally know what you did that made them flush you out. He told me.”

Byla’s face was foul. She looked like she was about to lose her temper. Slowly, she put down the basket on the grass and stared her down. Fen thought she looked kind of same like with the bandits when they first met.  

He hadn’t asked her about her past, or the reasons of her departure from Sadrith Mora. It hadn’t come up, nor did he really care. It’s not like he was so keen on his past either. But he had told Byla he was in prison, and she hadn’t even flinched.

“How very smart of you to let him seek you out, Maeri.”

Fen was lost on their conversation. He looked at them, back and forth. Byla had never mentioned Maeri or anyone else close to her.  

“Oh, now you are so high and mighty. Not at all like when you just decided to give up on me because I wasn’t gifted enough.”

Maeri stood up and stepped up to Byla, who had crossed her arms. She looked grim, pained. Maeri seemed to enjoy making her feel that way. She had not stopped smiling, hoping to provoke even more.  

In mature coolness, Byla stood, her posture rigid, voice icy.

“You have decided that it was so, and I am tired of convincing you. Just go, like you were about to...and preferably refrain from plundering any more ruins.”  

“Gladly.” She responded and squatted to take her belongings from the ground next to the porch. She only had a backpack and a short dagger to her.

“Try not to make your boytoy as miserable as you make everyone else.” She nudged her head at Fen and brushed past Byla.

She walked off, and didn’t look back.  

Birds chirped in the trees. The leaves were starting to turn yellow. It was a beautiful day. 

Fen glanced cautiously at Byla. There was no change in her expression. It seemed shadows of past had come to haunt her and could not be shaken off anytime soon. It hung around her like an aura.

“So... who is she?”  

He dared to ask, finally.

Byla shook her head, so spent, fed up.  

“My daughter.”

[jess16111]

Sweet Pea imagine #1

A/N Okay so this is my FIRST EVER imagine guys so please be nice lol, let me know if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes that I can fix and please feel free to give feedback, thanks!

“Oh you are dead my dear friend” You looked up to see your friend, Toni, leaning against the locker next to yours.

“What are you on about?” You ask her, closing your own locker with a sign.

“You know what I’m talking about” She says with a smirk, flicking her multicolored hair over her shoulder in the process.

“No I don’t” You say, frustration leaking through in your voice, you had the worst possible morning in the history of shitty mornings and you weren’t in the mood to deal with anyone, not even your childhood friend, and with your text books in hand you were ready to walk off until she uttered her next words.

“Sweet pea”

Fuck. That name alone caused your body to erupt into goosebumps, an unfortunate reaction, you bite your lip, thinking about your next words carefully.

“And what about him?” You ask, trying to manipulate your voice into sounding bored, but you knew you weren’t fooling anyone, especially not Toni.

“Now I am a fan of your outfit, but I’m not sure he will be” She says while she checks you out.

This morning when you had put on your favorite blue striped button up shirt on, you had noticed two buttons had come undone, and since you were already running incredibly late, you decided to suck it up and still wear it, with the two buttons missing it become more of an off the shoulder shirt, now that wasn’t the bad part, in fact you now preferred the shirt off the shoulder, the real problem was it revealed a bit more cleavage then you normally showed, and with your black lace bralette visible, you had received a lot more looks and cat calls.

“And please remind me why I care if he likes my outfit or not?” You say irritation clear as day in your voice, you couldn’t help but get your back up about the subject, you were already quite aware of the cleavage problem at hand, but why would Sweet Pea care?

It wasn’t like you guys were dating or even romantically involved, sure you might have a little crush on him, which Toni was somehow aware of, but you knew for a fact he didn’t care about you, you weren’t in their little gang, you weren’t friends with him, I mean you guys only shared one bloody class together, the only other thing connecting you guys together was that Toni was your friend, and had been since you were 3.

“Oh Y/N, you are in for a rude awakening today girlfriend” Toni says, glee apparent in her voice and her signature smirk on her face.

“Okay I’m walking away now” You say, you really wasn’t in the mood for games today, and decided it was best to walk away before you got even more frustrated.

“Wait Y/N” Toni’s voice echoed in the nearly empty hallway but you were already off to your next class.

LUNCH TIME

“Y/N” You couldn’t help but jump when you felt a hand grab your forearm, stopping you from walking to an empty table you had spotted mere moments ago.

“I’m sorry” You blurted out to Toni “I had a really bad morning and I was in a foul mood and I was taking it out on you, I know it’s not an excuse but-” but Toni was already cutting you off.

“It’s fine Y/N, honestly I shouldn’t had been so annoying about it, you are totally rocking your outfit and I’m jealous!” You couldn’t help the smile that replaced your frown, you hated how grumpy you were in the morning and was worried that you might have caused a fight with your friend but luckily you were wrong.

“Good, now that that’s over with let eat some lunch, I am staving!” Toni said, dramatically rolling her eyes and clutching her stomach, you couldn’t help but laugh at your friend, once again glad that everything was fine between you guys.

She guided you to the empty table you had spotted before and sat across from you, you guys spent the whole lunch time catching up on gossip and girl dramas Toni was having.

“-I mean seriously, why is it so hard to find a decent, attractive girl here? You would think it would be easy, but no! And-” Toni was once again leaning against the locker next to yours while you changed your text books over to the ones you would need for your last two classes when your locker door suddenly closed with a loud bang.

“What the f-” You were 1.0 seconds away at having a bitch at whoever slammed your locker, which by the way you were very lucky that your hand wasn’t reaching into your locker to grab something, as your hand would have been fucked, but you stopped when you looked up and saw who it was.

“My, my, my, don’t you look good enough to eat Y/N” Rick said, even with Toni standing next to you, you couldn’t help but feel intimidated, Rick was apart of the Ghoulie gang, a gang with a reputation of drug dealing, street racing, and rumors of cannibalism (Don’t ask), they are also the rival gang of the Southside Serpents.

“Fuck off Rick” You say loudly, hardness in the tone of your voice. You looked directly into his eyes, staring him down, hoping that maybe if you stared at him hard enough and with enough hatred he would combust, sadly you weren’t successful as he leaned on one arm that was directly above your head, he was mere inches away from your face.

“Wouldn’t mind fucking you babe” He says, his breath washing over you, and you couldn’t help but gag at the smell, who knows what that smell was too.

You noticed Toni took a step forward before another Ghoulie appeared out of thin air, and grabbed her arms, trapping her in his grip, you looked around you to find the hallways had gone strangely quite, there were not a lot of people you wanted to mess around with the Ghoulies.

“You’re fucking disgusting, I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last person on this earth” You say, venom dripping from your voice, you make an attempt to push him off you, to get some distance but he steps in closer, his body pressing against yours, from the corner of your eye you could see Toni trying to get out of the Ghoulies hold but failing as he looked like a brute who could crush a tree with his bare hands.

“I think you like this, I mean you’ve had your tits out for show all day in that sweet lace bra of yours, you’re practically begging for it-” Rick didn’t get to finish his sentence when he is hauled off of you.

Even though his body was turned away from you, you knew exactly who it was, Sweet Pea.

“Stop” You said but your voice was drowned out by the cheers of the students at the prospect of witnessing another fight.

“Stop!” You said louder this time, but once again your voice wasn’t heard, Sweet Pea was on the ground, sitting on top of Rick and punching him repetitively whilst Toni was laying in some kicks to the brute of a Ghoulie

“STOP!” You scream out, pushing your way through the crowd to get to Sweet Pea, you knew it that at any moment a teacher would come running in to break it up and you didn’t want the serpents to get in trouble, they were already on thin ice at the school.

You grab Sweet Pea’s arm when he was just about to land another blow to Rick, he looks up to see who would dare interrupt him when his brown eyes landed on yours, they soften slightly before shaking your hand of his and getting up.

“You ever fucking touch her again and your dead meat, you fucking understand me!” He roars out, landing a well aimed kick to Rick’s ribs before turning around and grabbing your arm, dragging you along behind him.

You struggled to keep up with his long strides, nearly having to run to ease the pressure on your arm caused by the pulling.

“Sweet Pea stop pl-” Before you could finish your sentence you were pushed inside an empty classroom, the door slammed and your back pressed against it.

Those eyes, those sweet brown eyes. Some days they reminded me of sunlight shinning through a glass of brandy, but other days the reminded me of dark chocolate brown with small flakes of amber through them. It wasn’t just the color of his eyes that captivated me, the quote ‘eyes are the window to your soul’ came to mind, his eyes held a heaviness to them, they held thousands of stories of hardship and heartbreak, but as the some time they held a soften as well, a kind of softness that makes you want to be engulfed in his arms, his warm, and never leave.

His raven hair was normally gelled back but due to the fight it had lost its hold, now his locks were all over the place, obscuring his sight. His arms were on either sides of your head, his lean but tall frame draped over yours, his eyes staring deeply into your Y/E/C eyes, his breaths came out in huffs and feathered across your face, you bit your bottom lip in an attempt to hold back your moan, he smelled of old leather, tobacco and mint.

“You are so frustrating” You recoil back from his statement, feeling the butterflies in your stomach disappear, instead being replaced by a sinking feeling, you couldn’t help but feel hurt by the statement. “I didn’t ask for you help Sweet Pea, I was fine handling-” His chuckles filled your eyes, you could feel your face starting to turn red with anger.

“That’s handling yourself? If it wasn’t for me you would be that Ghoulies lunch by now!” His voice rising after every word.

“Don’t be angry at me when I didn’t even ask for your help alright! You know what, fuck you!” You scream back at him, you couldn’t help the rage you felt, you felt like a burden to him, he probably only helped you out because 1. He hates the Ghoulies and 2. Toni and you are close friends. You felt like a second choice, an after thought to everyone, including him, and you were sick of it, fuck your stupid little crush on him, fuck him!

You started beating your fists against his chest in an attempt to get him to move off of you but he didn’t even budge, you let out a scream of frustration when he suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them above your hand, not too tightly but tight enough that you realized you couldn’t really escape. You realized that now he was impossibly close to you now, you could feel every outline of his body on yours, a flush of heat rolls through your body.

“I have been in fights all day long because of you!” He face inches away from yours, eyes piercing through your soul “Because of that fucking shirt!” His eyes flicker down to your shirt, from his angle you could perfectly see your lace bralette before meeting yours again.

You were speechless, you had no words to say to him, your brain going a million miles an hour to figure out what he meant, why would he being in fights all day because of your shirt? “I don’t understand” You mutter underneath your breath, knowing he could hear you perfectly well.

One hand cups your cheek, his thumb rubs gently across it, your breath gets caught in the back of your throat whilst your eyes widen, what the- Your thoughts stop when he mouth land roughly on yours, when you don’t respond back into the kiss he pulls back.

“I-I- shit” Sweet Pea says, his eyes searching your face, he drops your arms and takes a step back from you.

You lunge forward for him, one hand lands in his hair, the another around his neck and you kiss him, you pull back after a few seconds and look deeply into his eyes. He pushes you back into the door with his hands around your waist and kisses you back, yours lips are moving in rhythm with his, you couldn’t contain the gasp that escape from your mouth, you must be dreaming, this can’t be happening.

He grips your waist tightly and lifts you up, you wrap your legs around his as his presses you firmly into the door, leaving no room between the pair of you. He tongue explores your mouth, you attempt to turn it into a battle but he pulls your hair lightly and you give in with a moan. It’s like his couldn’t get enough of you, his hands went from your hair, back to your waist, with one eventually making its way to your ass, he gives it a firm squeeze and you hear yourself moan loudly, you just couldn’t control yourself, and neither could he.

You slam your head back into the door, gasping for breath, his mouth moved to your neck and you felt a wave of heat pool at your stomach. His lips trailed up and down your neck, he would change from light kisses, to harsh bites and sucking, you could tell you would have some Hickeys to hide later on but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He reach a certain spot on your neck and you hips buckle suddenly, now it was his turn to let out a deep, rough moan.

“Fuck baby-girl” He muttered into your neck, gripping you tighter before experimentally snapping his hips back up to yours.

“Sweets” You whimper, you couldn’t control your hips any more, you were desperate for a release, any type of a release. With his mouth still sucking and biting your neck his hands move from your hips to your shirt, unbuttoning it at a rapid rate, “You have been driving me fucking crazy all day baby-girl, you know that?” You shake your head, gripping his hair, your heat pulsing at his words and actions “Everyone has been staring at you baby-girl, my girl. Looking at your gorgeous chest, the lace of your bra peaking out, teasing me” He groans at the end, finally finished with your shirt, you temporally let go of his hands, practically ripping your shirt of yourself, so now you were left in your black lace bralette and black jeans, he moans at the sight.

A hand moves to your chest, exploring the new territory. Your nipples stand at attention, begging to me touched, played with, and you get your wish, he rough hands grasping and groping, tweaking your nipples. You start grinding on yours hip against his, feeling his hard length covered through his jeans, you work yourself into a rhythm with him, your hips meeting each others with every thrust, heat pooling in your stomach, you weren’t sure if you were going to last.

“Fuck Sweets, you feel so good” You mewl, one hand clawing at his back underneath his shirt, the other still tangled in his raven locks.

“Your mine baby-girl, mine Y/N” He says, his hips snapping back at a faster pace, his hand gripping your waist tightly.

KNOCK KNOCK

You both jump at the sound, you were so caught up in Sweet Pea that you became unaware of your surrounds, the knocks were coming from the door that you were currently leaning against, you could hear chatter behind it, eventually the chatter gets harder and harder to hear, signally that whoever it was had walked away.

Your attention turns back to Sweet Pea, his face was delicious flushed, lips slightly bruised and hair a mess, you heat pulsed at the sight.

His lips land on yours once again but this time its different, it isn’t so rough, their isn’t that sense of urgently and need behind it, instead there’s a sense of calmness and tenderness.

“I mean it baby-girl, your mine now” He whisperers to you, his eyes searching your eyes for any hints of regret. 

“You could of just asked me out you know, but I’m not complaining” You tell him, a smile on your face, he rolls his eyes at your statement with a smile on his face.

And that is the story of how you became Sweet Pea’s girlfriend.

[violetsystems]

#personal

The mood indoors lately is a lot more calming than it was maybe a year ago.  A lot of that has to do with me growing through all of this.  I’ve been left to myself for the most part which I think is for the best.  I haven’t really had anyone to brag about the positives to other than writing here.  I’ve been working on setting up the apartment to be a little more energy efficient.  This sometimes has adverse reactions like when I fuck up and shut off processor game boost on my computer and try to do a stream.  I’m pretty sure the BIOS reset itself.  If there’s one thing I’ve become more conscious of the last year it’s how much I use of everything.  Last summer I dived head into a catastrophic situation by ruthlessly creating normality for myself.  I made a monthly budget.  I kept myself cash forward and away from credit.  I analyzed what I spent and why.  I navigated an unprecedented situation almost effortlessly according to some people.  But I can assure you with great confidence a lot of people in real life weren’t actually there.  Which is why I’m extremely skeptical when people from your past magically show up at your doorstep.  Whatever the reason.  However believable or wishful thinking it is in these times that we can just pick up where we left off.  I have the unfortunate habit of keeping tabs on everything.  It’s what got me through a year of total uncertainty.  And one thing for me is certain.  Serendipity and synchronicity may exist in my life still.  But for the most part I’ve seen the same old tricks evolve slowly over time.  Last Saturday I went out to check the mail.  Coincidence or not, someone I knew from years ago was fixing my neighbor’s bike.  Within the first seconds of saying hi, the person was already hurling stuff at me that they shouldn’t have known about.  How I lost my job at the school he attended a year ago.  A job he kept mentioning I applied for at a video game company where his friend works last November.  How he’s been buddy buddy with the neighbor who just moved in.  How serendipitous for this all to happen in America after a year of what I’ve been through?  It’s been more than a year if you want my post mortem on a dead issue.  I projected as best as I could.  That I had applied for the company but was focusing on other opportunities outside the city.  I had an envelope in my hand the entire time I had been waiting for.  Information about my health insurance from my old employer.  I went in and set it on the table and remembered a book on the shelf I had on loan from the very same person out front.  I grabbed it instinctively as if to settle all debt and contact.  Went back out front and returned it to him with out much commentary.  The next day I blocked that person following me on twitch.  Insane I know.  I only have two or three followers.  Most bots.  It’s like I’m shooting myself in the foot in the face of opportunity.  I also reported it.  Which makes me the asshole for shutting people out of my life who were never invited back into it in the first place.  I know how all this works by now and I will be gaslighted into the stage of history.  I think our confidence gets tricked often when we refuse to accept a sinking status quo.  We’re made to feel guilty through isolation.  Why am I so mean?  I brought this all on myself.  The last year.  I reached out to an entire network of those people I worked with and serviced on LinkedIn a year ago.  That network of people fell silent apparently scared to go on record talking to me on a digitally monitored platform.  Why now?  The shitty irony of the situation was the mail in my hand.  I opened the envelope after I returned the book I never read.  Something about ayahuasca and a cosmic serpent.  The envelope was more revealing.  My health insurance was officially covered for the next three months due to a subsidy.  There were also three months from April to June I had been paying where I owed nothing.  So it’s pretty much covered through the end of the year.  That is if I don’t find a job immediately like the video game company everybody from the past I keep holding at bay just happens to be friends with.  The same token I post an article about led wireless light security on a professional website and people from Shenzhen I don't even know visit my profile.  Which do I really want to connect to at this point?  The past or the future.  

That past largely has gotten it all wrong.  If it got it right I would not be sitting here bathed in crimson light at my kitchen table listening to 0pn at six thirty in the morning.  It wouldn’t show up to my doorstep unannounced leaving me to question the motives after a year of exile.  I get that it is the summer.  This city can be a blessing or a curse.  It’s an easy city to disappear in.  Affordable at times but often extremely bitter towards people who go their own way.  It judges everything around it based on a meat and potatoes Midwestern mentality.  Sophistication and creativity is stifled unless it’s part of a broader narrative that the city and the rich people who own it can leverage.  There really isn’t a place for you unless someone has their say and can roast you.  The negging is tribal and it punishes people who don’t offer up their entire life story for public record.  When you do offer up your side of events, it’s buried.  Like a zombie I rise from the grave to remind people weekly that I have no power in changing any of this.  I’m stuck in between the worst of everything and the best right around the corner.  I’ve been around the world and yet nobody wants to hear about it unless they can explain it for you.  People take words out of your mouth and insert themselves back into your life without any thought.  It’s like the city, state and communal shit pile of neighbors and acquaintances owns your future.  If you try to do it alone, they’ll let you know.  Societal pressure is on all sides.  If they can’t corral you in with politics, they’ll isolate you until you break down and plead for help.  A year later, the only real help I focus on is monetary.  I shudder to think staying another year here alone and yet it seems completely hopeless and futile to hope for anything else.  A large reason I want to put the past behind me is how utterly fucking irresponsible and worthless it is.  People think they know who you are because they spoke to you when you were drunk.  And since you don’t drink or get invited to anything social, people feel the need to engineer entrapment on your doorstep when you are beholden to the importance of the mail.  It’s not like my mail ever comes on time.  I’m looking at the fourth package in a few month that needs to be redelivered because it never made it to my doorstep.  I have not just given up on things getting better here.  I have taken evasive action and shut down pretty much everyone and everything that savored the opportunity to ghost me.  There is no excuse.  Not even a pandemic.  No real alibi to leave someone to rot after twenty years of service.  They forgot.  I don’t forget.  I’m constantly reminded that I’m lucky to even have a resume that points to how overqualified I am for everything.  Apparently getting a job isn’t about skill or experience.  It’s about who you know.  And I’m supposed to throw my arms open to the universe and thank the heavens that some pseudo commie spy has an in for me at the video game company for less than I’m worth.  That’s the real story.  I’m worth more than that.  You don’t just spend a year ignoring me and suddenly create a situation where my confidence is pressured into letting these people back in.  That is the very definition of entrapment to me.  So much so that it hurts to think about how close to home I feel unsafe.  I literally walk out my door and I cannot avoid people trying to crowbar their way back into my good graces.  That’s not normal.  None of this has been normal.  And so I react the way I do.  I block people.  I say no.  I isolate what’s working and what isn’t.  And it sucks.  The feelings of guilt that were orchestrated for the very purpose of sowing doubt in yourself and your decisions.  Men mostly trying to assert their authority and their freedom to dictate and pick apart your life.  It’s fucking foul what happened on Saturday.  And the foulest part of it is that I would be gaslighted for even questioning the timing.

So I don’t.  That’s the biggest trap of all this.  Me reacting.  Me getting even outside of writing.  I don’t really want to connect to my past at all.  I know how much baggage it is.  I know how much of my life got thrown away because I didn’t turn out as weak as people thought I’d be.  I know that moving forward is painful because letting go is hard.  And yet I don’t really have much information that would lead me to trust the people who have been absent from my life.  It’s bullshit.  And it’s harder still to realize that I have to feel awkward because I feel unsafe.  I’m the one who has had to tiptoe around all of this.  I do it well.  Obviously there’s things in my life that are welcome.  Things that inspire me without being overbearing.  Friends that keep in touch without any sinister connections or agendas.  People who keep tabs on me without acting like the secret police.  It’s such a tumultuous and unprecedented time!  Let’s celebrate it by reconnecting to the same old bullshit.  Let’s all make the same fucking mistakes.  Let’s pretend it never happened.  I’m fine with that.  Just leave me alone.  There is nothing worth reconnecting at this point that isn’t already strapped in for the ride.  There is nothing really for me to become other than gainfully employed in a job that I like.  At current that is working for myself.  I wish it were more lucrative and sustainable.  But folding back into the fray after being left alone for so long is a dead end.  I’ve pushed myself further than I ever would have in the past.  I’ve become another person entirely.  I know when I’m off putting.  I know when I have no reason to smile it away.  And I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with this much vitriol for a city that just wants to pretend it’s my own problem.  You get burnt by these slime for years and people don’t want to believe it’s true.  It couldn’t happen here.  It couldn’t be that bad.  That guy is just blowing it all out of proportion.  Forget the fact he’s travelled half the world alone.  Forget all the things we ignore that he’s done while we weren’t watching.  We know him best.  We’ve watched him his entire life.  If that were really true, what has anyone really learned?  I’m in pain?  Yes.  I hurt so deeply from all of this that I’d rather just forget it and move on.  But there is nowhere to go.  Everyone has their say or I stay invisible.  And what is there to offer?  In this city apparently nothing.  I can’t find a job unless I go get drunk with the bros at the bar or the noise show?  I’m supposed to take a pay cut when I already worked for a non profit.  If you ask me I want none of this.  I want better things for myself.  And I’m not going to sell myself short because I’m scared it will pass me by.  Look at the last year.  How much shit just pretended I was dead to the world?  That was apparently my fault.  Every time I’m faced with that accusation by the peanut gallery on the street causes me emotional pain.  The real truth is that it was never worth my time.  And I learned that a long time ago.  A year ago to be exact.  I was meant for better things.  And unfortunately the way things are, you have to take charge.  Of your life and your destiny.  Sometimes you have to say no.  Sometimes saying nothing at all is the biggest fuck you.  I know how it feels.  Nobody said anything substantial to me for about a year now.  Maybe that’s why a simple like in my dash means far more to me than a fake setup and an offer I can’t refuse.  This isn’t The Godfather.  This is the departed.  And I’m already far removed from what this city thought it could trick me back into.  That’s the baggage that doesn’t deserve to be brought into the future.  So don’t worry about me holding up the flight.  All I have is my carry on and a clean slate.  We can fly anywhere.  If I stay around here alone they’re going to clip my wings for good eventually.   It’ll be made to look like an accident.  Just like the entire last year.  And they’ll keep doing it because nobody calls them out for being wrong.  <3 Tim

[askflourishandpassing]

Without a presence but a chill pervading the forest air - the Serpent’s arrival was veiled by dreadful silence. Only a distant cacophony foretold of the beast, and with the tumultuous escape of a hundred creatures, he finally revealed his dreadful form. Undulating from a tree as gnarled as his visage, he billowed out from an impossible plane. The massive, ophidian being nearly stretched a dozen meters as it’s looming unfurled and winded in the shadow of canopy. But eventually after he nestled along a moldering treeline, the great serpent wriggled to a halt before his glare gazed upon death with sternness and probing scrutiny.

His cartilage mask peeled itself back, unveiling a fetid maw lined with rows of quivering decay. Yellowed fangs vibrated in a collective song, moving as the foulness breathed a sterling voice.

“You’re the man dragging that lout to and fro, are you?” His eyes were a fire of blazoned amaranth as they constantly veered between death and his enraptured. “I have a role you assuredly do, but I don’t abstain from my curiosities - especially if there is tell of death or any of my diefic kin wandering amok. I won’t squander your time however, you seem a bit too preoccupied with your current affairs and I can’t be bothered to fathom what significance it must certainly bear.”

“Nevertheless I am eager to ask you.”

“You may not look it’s part, but I know well who you are. As a gracious as an offering it would surely be – I know I’d be quite enthralled to have their likes be subservient to me – neither of us wouldn’t ever think you’d be so inane as to proffer yourself gifts of your own making.” A shroud of poignant rot exhaled from his maw. “If you are any candle to the Lords who’s grace I’ve conversed with, then you wouldn’t be so callous as to act your ire upon your kin.”

“You have a reason for dragging her about, and I don’t think you’re the one to have started this are you? And of all the reasons I could fathom, it could’ve only been lapse in balance that had incurred your fury.”

“What could she have done?” A subtle nod averted attention towards her. “Did she raise a fool from their graves, did she uncover immortality and covet it all to her lonesome? Because what reason your callousness may hold, I assure you one thing:”

“Slaying her will bring greater disparity than whatever she could of feasibly done, so restrain from hypocrisy and save your wrath for another day.”

“But of course, what I would I know?”

His sniveling visage twisted into a vile grin, his forked tongue lashing the ether as he spoke in a rumbling hiss.

“You haven’t told of what she’s done, have you?”

[tricksters-captain]

FP Jones/Andrews family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 7

AN: Well... I hope you like this chapter. 

(Part One)(Part Two)(Part Three)(Part Four)(Part Five)(Part Six)

Overall Summary: You’re Archie’s old sister and you have a thing for a certain serpent

Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews

Word count: 2,940

Warnings: Well, FP is clearly older than the reader in this fic, some strong language, none really

“Come on.” FP held onto your hand as he led you into the trailer. 

You laughed at yourself as your feet began to fail you. FP sighed at you but couldn’t help the smile that made it’s way onto his face in defeat when you fell against the wall for support. 

“Here.” FP gave you a cup of water and you made your way to his bedroom. You unzipped your dress, dropping it to the floor then helped yourself to one of FP’s flannels to change into. 

FP couldn’t help but stare when the dress fell to the floor to reveal your black lacy underwear. 

He watched the way your back muscles moved as you tugged on his large shirt, he watched your legs wobble as you struggled to stand, he watched your hair moved as you looked over to send him a tired smile. 

He didn’t have words in that moment so just averted his eyes and cleared his throat, his hands on his hips as he tried to compose himself. 

“Night FP.” You collapsed on the bed, hugging the pillow that was engulfed by the smell of FP. 

FP allowed himself to look back over at you as you lay, passed out on his bed. 

He walked forward, pulling the sheets up your legs and over your bottom half and huffed, smiling at you. You were completely gone. 

He stroked his hand over your hair, then waited a few seconds to leave the room and find his common place on the couch. 

He kicked off his boots and leant back, his hand tucked behind his head and it didn’t take long for him to fall under. 

The next morning you woke up with a blinding headache and a foul taste of what you had been drinking the night before in your mouth. The blinds weren’t drawn so the sunlight burned it’s way through to you. It was too bright for you to open your eyes fully but as you stretched out on the bed and realised you weren’t at home, you forced yourself up. You sat against the back board and gathered the sheets around you. 

You were in FP’s trailer. 

You didn’t know what time it was so you decided it be best to not linger. It took you seconds to hop out of the bed and pull your dress back on, you decided to leave the flannel over the top of it. It smelt like him and was undeniably comfortable. 

You pattered through the trailer and noticed a tub of aspirin on the kitchen side to which you had no problem helping yourself to. 

FP was still asleep on the couch. His head rolled back in his hand, his lips slightly apart and his chest rose steadily. 

You were as silent as you could be as you approached him. 

“Thank you.” You whispered and leant down, pressing you lips against the man’s cheek. You felt FP raise his hand wrap it around your forearm, beckoning you to stay. 

You smiled as he held on when you tried to walked away. 

FP didn’t open his eyes but you caught the upturn of his lips just before you left the trailer. 

You had to catch a bus back to your house and walk a majority of the way but you didn't care, you just wrapped FP's shirt around you tightly as you walked back.

You remembered bits of last night but not all of it, a lot of it was foggy but you did remember leaving the house after Cheryl took over the party and then FP picking you up and taking you back to his.

You smiled to yourself as you reached the front door, too deep in thought to notice your dad's car was home...

You pushed open the door and went to head upstairs when you caught a glimpse of something you never really wanted to see again... or more like someone.

"Where you been?" Your dad's voice hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You dismounted the first step and turned towards the living room slowly.

Archie was sat on the couch, and your dad was stood staring at you with a mixture of shock and disappointment. You were never the type to stay out the entire night and on the occasion that you did, you were more usually more careful about sneaking back in. 

Your Mom was also there, and she also didn't look very happy as her eyes fell to the button-down you were wearing.

All your words seemed to disappear at the unexpected sight of your mother.

"Your father asked you a question, (y/n)." She stepped forward, folding her arms across her chest.

It was like deja vu from years ago when they used to catch you sneaking in and out of the house late at night in your early teen years. That enraged you, how could they look so normal? Like she never even left?!

"What is she doing here?" You asked your dad, gesturing to your mother.

"Answer the question, (y/n)." Fred insisted,

"I was out! Now why is she here?!" You felt a new anger bubble in the pit of your stomach every time you looked her in the face.

"(Y/n/n)..." your mom went to speak but you quickly cut her short.

"No. You said you were going to Chicago to finalise the divorce so why is she here?" You directed the question to your dad, you refused to hear the answer from her, after all you had to find out the reason why she left from your dad so he should be the one to tell you why the hell she is back.

"(Y/n)..." Archie furrowed his eyebrows at you,

“No, Archie––” You went to stop him like you stopped your mom but Archie stood, continuing before you could.

“–I called Dad.” Archie told you.

You froze; staring at Archie with the hurt he never understood. He never understood why you didn't like to see or talk to your mom, but the truth was when she left, she hurt you. She just took off and left you in Riverdale because it was meant to be ‘safer’ and ‘better for you’. It was a stupid reason but it was enough, she never called, she never made an effort, not with you.

“So little Archie calls and you just drop everything and come back?” You asked, your eyes now very glassy.

Your Mom went to open her mouth but only a disappointed sound that resembled your name came out.

You scoffed, pushing back your tears and grappled onto the banister of the staircase.

"Well, welcome home, Mom." You said with more venom than you may have intended but you didn't care, there was no way you were staying in the house whilst they tried to act happy families. At least, not in that moment.

You fled upstairs, immediately changing so you could get out of the house. You needed to get out of the house. 

You threw your hair up and wiped your hands over your face before braving the bottom half of the house again.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Your mom asked you just as you reached the front door, car keys in hand.

“I’m going out.” You tell her, not even looking around to face her.

“You only just got home.” She frowned.

You rested your head on the door, biting down on your lip.

“I can’t be here. I’ll be back later.” You told her before swiftly making your exit.

“Mom, it’s best to leave her when she's like this. She’ll be back, just gotta let her cool off.” Archie, as shaken as he was about the fact she actually came himself, was the one to assure your mom that you would be back.

FP woke shortly after you left. He didn’t expect you to have left as soon as you woke up but then again, he never expected anything you did. Just like he didn’t expect to see your car pulling up to the trailer as he made himself a coffee.

You shoved open the trailer door, slowing to a stop when you met FP’s eyes. He placed down his cup and stepped towards you, confused to what could have happened in the space of a couple hours.

“What’s happened?” FP asked,

“My…My Mom, she…she’s…” You fumbled your words, your voice trembling as you gestured back towards the door. 

FP calmed you down by wrapping one arm behind your shoulders and pulling you into him.

“Hey. Hey, here, Shhh…” You clung onto him, burying your face into his neck.

After you had managed to compose yourself, FP broke away, bending his knees slightly so he could search your eyes as he held onto your cheek.

“Coffee?” He suggested, raising his eyebrows.

You laughed softly at the man and nodded your head. FP dodged back into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“Cream? Sugar?” He asked as you sat down on the couch, crossing your legs underneath you. 

“Both please.” You told him.

FP returned with two steaming cups, and handed one to you. You hummed in thanks and brought it to your lips, blowing on it to cool it down.

“So, your mom..?” FP thought it was okay to ask now that you had calmed down a little.

“My mom.” You sighed, placing the mug down then sucked in a breath through your teeth. You leant back, turning slightly so you could see FP’s face whilst you spoke. “She’s back in town.”

“Why’s that?” FP asked,

“My brother called my dad in Chicago, it must have been last night after he had a bit too much to drink and obviously they took the first chance they got to drive back here.” You explained, running a hand through your hair.

FP didn’t know what to say so he waited for you to continue.

“It’s just… Why come back now after one drunk phone call? Is it because there was a homicide? Did a murder really have to happen to get my mom back in town after two years.” You scoffed, “We haven't spoken in two years and she just waltzed back in expecting open arms and a ‘hey mom, how ya been?’” You chortled sourly.

“You know you’re welcome to stay here if you don't want to go back, just don't let Jughead catch you.” FP tried his best to lighten your mood, he gestured around the trailer and moved his arm so that it lay behind you.

“I might just take you up on that offer.” You grumbled, leaning into his open arm.

You looked up at FP and smiled a small tired smile to which his eyes latched onto. He had never noticed how much he hated to see you down and not smiling up at him like you usually would.

He reached forward to catch the tear that managed to roll down your cheek whilst you spoke.

You studied the man closely in that moment, and god, did you adore him. You found it almost funny that the man who you knew to be the leader of the serpents and was often emotionless and drank away his problems was so focused on making sure that you were okay, that you had no tears left on your face.

And in that moment, you thought ‘fuck it’.

You tipped forward and pressed your lips against the man.

FP didn’t move, he didn’t pull away. You stayed there for a few seconds before you pulled away.

You went to apologise when FP leant towards you and enclosed the gap once again.

Your whole body was suddenly electric and the kiss was a fire compared to the flicker of the previous one.

FP deepened the kiss, knotting one of his hands in your hair as you moved onto his lap, his free hand pressing against your back to hold you closer to him.

Your fingers found themselves on the back of FP’s neck and up in his hair.  

FP broke from your lips as he flipped you over onto your back, he looked down at you with dark eyes

“What am I doing?” He asked himself through his breath before kissing you again, his hands running down your sides then pushing up under your shirt.

You arched your back trying to be as close to FP as possible as his hands explored your skin, his touch made your skin burn and his kiss made you feel like you couldn’t breath and that you didn’t want to.

You were so lost into his touch until the door went.

FP’s lips left yours for a moment, he cocked his head to listen to see if the visitor would leave. 

He didn’t climb off you until someone called out his name. You didn’t recognise the voice but FP sure did as he reluctantly rose from the couch and headed towards the door.  

You sat up, hugging your legs to your chest while FP dealt with whoever was at the door.

You watched FP talk with the mystery visitor,  you couldn’t hear what he saying saying so you just watched with your head resting on the top of your knees. 

FP laughed at something the intruder said and then closed the door. He turned back to you and raised his eyebrows.

“Feeling better?” He asked,

You hid your face behind your hands and rocked backwards, laughing at him.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head,

FP retook his seat on the couch and you picked up your coffee which was now cool enough for you to drink. You leant your back against FP’s side as he switched on the television.

You closed your eyes as you took a sip of your drink, and hummed in pleasure.

FP found himself staring down at you, his jaw tensed, his fingers threading through the top of your hair.

“What are you doing to me?” He asked aloud.

You didn’t leave FP’s until around midday since he warned you that the afternoon was about the time that Jughead liked to visit so you decided to head over to Pop’s.

“I suggest you eat before you come back, I don't have much in the kitchen. Are you... Are you gonna stay?” FP asked as you lingered by the door.

“I’ll see. Thanks FP.” You hesitated whether or not you wanted to kiss FP again but he got the hint and took hold of your cheek with one hand whilst the other rested on the door frame.

You pushed up on your toes and met him half way. His scruff scratching your cheeks as he kissed you.

Damn, you could get used to this.

When you left, you situated yourself in a booth at Pop’s with a milkshake. You were deep in thought when Archie entered, clearly in search of you.

“(Y/N), where the hell have you been?” Archie asked, sliding down opposite you.

You rolled your eyes and leant back in your seat,

“Honestly, Archie, if Mom sent you out to look for me…” You started,

“She didn’t. I was actually the one who told her to let you cool off.” Archie told you.

“Archie, would you just leave it? You and Mom and me and Mom have very different relationships.” You pleaded, stirring the half empty milkshake with the straw.

“I wanna know why. Why are you so angry that she came back?” Archie demanded, his brow furrowed with determination. You sighed at your younger brother and shook your head at his stubbornness.

“Mom left without saying goodbye, she didn’t even ask what I wanted and after she left she never called me or anything. You were her favourite, Archie. I was some troublesome teenage daughter that just wouldn't do anything she said so why should she bother with me if I didn’t bother with her? Archie, it’s been two years and one drunk phone call from you dragged her back here, now I need you to drag her back out because Dad isn't happy with her and she isn't happy with him. They're civil, they're friends but you can’t force her here. She would’ve come back on her own a long time if she really wanted to.” You explained, you saw Archie’s face changed as you did.

“I had no idea.” Archie admitted, you scoffed out a wry laugh.

“Of course you didn’t, Archie. Why would I tell you that I haven't spoken to Mom properly for two years?”

Archie clenched his jaw as he thought. You could almost see all the little trains of thought racing around through his red locks.

Archie then got up to leave, he reached the door of Pop’s before he remembered what he needed to tell you.

“Oh, (Y/n)! One of Cheryl’s minions came by the house to remind you that you have cheer practise tomorrow since you missed the last meet and it’s the homecoming game coming up.”

You didn’t return to FP’s that night because you knew it would only make matters worse. You avoided dinner and you hid in your room until your dad came to say goodnight. 

“I know your Mom being here is hard for you, (Y/n), but you could at least try to talk to her while she’s still here.” Your dad confronted you, leaning against your doorway. 

You remained silent, ignoring him, even thought you knew you shouldn’t. He wasn’t the one you were pissed at. 

Fred sighed, giving up, and left the room without a ‘goodnight’.

(Part 8)

Tags below

@jugheads-lawyer @shannon-posts @montgomerydeladempsey @amycarstairs @geekoftv @forsytheserpents @treblebeth @sweetvengeancee @immortalmurphy @rln108 @evenmyphonemissesyourcall94 @twilight-loveer @ri-verdale  @neganskitty @audreyxhorne @squall-ore @lefoutoir @riverdalehipsters @sassyfiedscribbles @itsgirl17321  @shewalksinstarlightx @cutesnakemum @svanck @juliet12345678 @oldschool-aye @esmiestyles @lifeisforlosers @lilythe1975 @janellemonaenae @negansxlucille @hellboundblogger @im-everyones-type @bluexangels @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag @aliceswonderlandblog @youvebeenwinchesterd @xsnak-3x @cucharadebager @future-style-dreams @panther-and-peacock @wxnderfull @uncharte-dlove @illinterrogatethecat00 @angelicaleonamichelle @thealipower @hyuk-chan @squidgy84 @photoastucess

[nimueriesa]

THE IDYLLS OF THE QUEEN →  SENTENCE MEME [ 2 / 3  ]

Part two of a three part series of lines and dialogue taken from The IDYLLS OF THE QUEEN by Phyllis Ann Karr, an Arthurian murder mystery featuring Sir Kay and Sir Mordred as Begrudging Buddy Cops ™. Feel free to change pronouns or anything else to better suit your needs.

_____’s interested in justice, not revenge.

Justice, revenge --- two words for the same thing.

You’ll be all unprepared when the nuns attack.

I see your noble worships be wondering at my Beauty.

Nay then, she’s mine, free and honest.

Be ye willing to hear tale, your noble worships?

I name him in my prayers morn and night.

God and Holy Mother bless you twice over!

Someday, when I’m more of the mood to meet you in battle, I can use that slander as well as any other excuse to fight.

An hour’s combat with _____ is the safest practice a man can take with unblunted weapons.

Nevertheless, if you should end this evening killed or laid up in bed, nursing an improbable wound, do you fully trust me to continue our quest?

When you’re forty years older, you might know a little something of what you’re talking about.

A joust in friendship hardly fulfills a vow of vengeance.

And you accuse us women of over-romancing.

A man who would hang forty knights for love of a dame should have loved her enough to go back to her.

Only a guiltless man would be so willing to accept the appearance of guilt.

We know you would have offered yourself up as her champion if you had thought of these things before _____.

They don’t teach ‘em vengefulness and poison at the Castle of the Graile, lad.

Ambition may twist a man’s thoughts into strange patterns.

You’ll have to work harder than that if you want to throw the Sword in the Stone back in my teeth.

I have most of the work and none of the glory.

When you start accusing your own brothers, then it’s plain the serious talk is done.

I’ve carved this ring too large for my fingers. It may fit yours.

And will you not do something to prevent its coming true?

The reason you got into my dream is because I’ve had to look at your face all day, every day for the last four days.

I do suffer from a fascination with serpents, do I not?

It looks like an ordinary lake.

Somewhere beneath that water is a city richer than Caerleon.

Will we see the blue sky and the clouds, too? Or will we see little fishes instead of birds swimming over our heads?

The City in the Lake, ruled always by a lady --- sometimes a wicked dame, sometimes a kindly one, always a powerful one.

I think the first Lady of the Lake must have been Adam’s paramour Lilith.

They say that much of the old magic can only be taught to a man by a woman, and to a woman by a man.

You’re waxing poetic this evening.

I hardly expected ever to see this night.

What in Ihesu’s Holy Name are you talking about?

What is your plan, now you’ve brought me this far?

Damn you, ____, have you gone completely out of your mind?

I could not allow my thoughts to stagnate in an obsession with my own encroaching death.

Your brains are even more rattled than we thought.

What gave you the idea you were important enough to attract an assassin?

God, don’t you have enemies of your own to kill you in open tourney or ambush?

What truth? If you’re talking about your lunatic fancies as ‘truth’ they’re a pile of dead flies!

You risked no more than one or two lives at most.

Come out from the water and arm yourself!

Now, repeat your slander of the Queen.

Strike me quickly, _____. Now, while we’re both in the mood.

Let’s get out of here before our armor rusts off our bodies.

The King will not thank you for this.

I don’t appreciate being played the fool and goaded into attacking you like another one of your bloody puppets.

If you want to be murdered on command, you’re going to have to tell me why.

You can just lie down, drown, and damn yourself, for all I care.

I assume that a knight seeking the company of the Lady of the Lake should hail her with no less care and courtesy than one seeking admittance into a lesser stronghold.

You rely a great deal on your influence over the Dame of the Lake. Do you truly expect her to do your beck and call?

My brothers inherited the sound of life from her, I the sound of death.

I am more fully my mother’s son than any of my brothers.

Do you remember when I first came to _____’s court? I was bright and eager then, was I not? Filled with pure ideals and noble aspirations --- too noble, perhaps.

I was very young and very innocent then, aside from being in love with two or three fair dames and damsels at once.

You do not even know us. How do you know our fate?

You are the fruit of incest, heinous in the sight of God and man.

God! You’ve killed him, and he had a prophecy for me!

No doubt his prophecy for you was that you would kill me.

That would make me a fortunate knight, not an unfortunate one.

I tried to be killed in that day’s tourney --- Ihesu, how I tried!

I knew I was fated to fulfill the prophecy somehow, as surely as Judas was fated to betray Our Lord.

For the last time, I did not try to poison you.

For years I have been waiting for the stroke to fall, wondering whether they would find their chance to murder me.

If you decide you’re going to live up to some foul prophecy, that’s your choice.

How did you get there without us seeing you? Invisibility?

Why should I tell you my craft?

I watch the battles of knights, but I do not eavesdrop on their private conversations.

Would you have saved him in the last moment?

I was reasonably confident you would not strike him down.

You would not have come here, stood on the beach calling me, and threatened to throw stones into the streets of my city, if you did not intend to tell me the reason.

Oh, no --- you’re not going to walk away from us like this!

I have saved your King’s life. I have saved it three times.

I do not need to demonstrate my reliability at your command. No, not even at the command of the High King himself.

I have always known well enough when to come and save your King.

Would you prefer I hovered constantly about your corrupt court, muttering in the King’s ear?

Best go back, before you drown. 

I know all that was in your head, and you should know now why I dislike gaining such knowledge. It was not pleasant for you, and it was still less pleasant for me.

To see all the private sins and passions of another in a single moment! If sacramental confession were a tenth part so revealing, no man would ever turn priest.

Next time, at least do it on dry land.

Ihesu, Dame, there must be something you can do!

We’d all have been better off without these damn prophecies.

Aren’t you going to offer us your hospitality?

My Lake? You wish to come down into my Lake and drown? Wet lodgings you would have with my mermaids, Sir Knight!

It is not my fault you wounded one another in your silly quarrel.

Poor man! Is your curiosity so hot for what you’ve been denied?

And you men put the blame on Eve and excuse Adam.

Any woman as reluctant as you to welcome guests must be ashamed of her household. 

Your famous city must not live up to its reputation.

You forget he’s not aware that I know of the prophecy. Shall we tell him?

A man entering his fourth decade is old enough to choose for himself whether or not to bind his soul to a prophecy. 

You must look for other safeguards against _____ than coddling him.

You might try bullying _____ into a better state of soul. That would be more your style than sweet words and soft treatment.

I suppose you can see everything that’s in my mind now?

Goodnight now, sweet knight.

You must have had a pleasant tete-a-tete. Does the Lady’s dear husband know?

Felt something like getting your brainpan stirred with a hot poker.

Well, she may search my head if she wishes. The secret’s festered long enough.

I would have been very sure of your guilt indeed if you had swapped off my head as I expected.

Dame _____ may be a chaste witch, but she need not impose her rules on all her pretty damsels.

Go to sleep. You’ll need your rest for the morning.

Your pardon, pure _____. It was the carnal appetites of my father speaking. 

Not all of us can subsist on the idyllic worship of an unattainable lady.

[curiouslich]

First Mission

The paladin reached his plated glove to the ground and behind his helm twisted his lips. It had been another brutal scene to behold. Reports of attacks from the Amani had escalated, the trolls were becoming restless and these warbands were becoming emboldened. It had been nearly a year since the first messages, a rumor here, a missing box, a robbery, then an assault, a fire, murder, and now this small villa was the latest scene.

“Captain Sunshatter, your orders?” The boots of the Phoenix guard interrupted the thought of the young man. Captain… Itrius instinctively looked for his brother, scanning to find Irigir.

He never would.

The Dawnbringers in their final moments killed his elder brother, his hero, but that was a tale of the past. He had been named captain in the months to follow. Taking his place and this was his first mission. Itrius brought his hands to his helm and removed the glittering protection..

Long wheat gold hair fell down in the reveal. His hair braided like a serpent wrapping around his sun seared skin. A pair of bisecting scars lead over his golden eyes. Despite whatever he was thinking he still smiled at his subordinates.

The Phoenix guard gave a brief salute before repeating the question. “Your orders sir?” the pair of Soldier were asked to accompany him a small group of three set out to determine this situation, to see if anything needed to be done, if this matter was truly a threat to Quel’Thalas.

Stowing the helmet in the crux of his arm Itrius twisted his lips again, eyes returning to the scene, smoldering embers set atop twisting vines of red and black. The foul stench of blood and decay thick in the air. “We need to figure out what happened here. These attacks are happening more and more as time passes. If we can’t sort it out the people in this region may be at risk.”

Closing his eyes for a moment he weighed his thoughts. “Send word back to the Spire, I want a task force out here.” Praying to the Light he made the right call, a waste of resources on his first mission wouldn’t bode well for his career.

Dismissing any comments the others may have had he kneeled down and placed his helm. Regardless of his doubts something was very wrong here, and he could sense it. The feeling in his gut twisted and called for him to  walk forward. The pull of some primordial sense clinging to him, dragging him along, like he was being raked into a predator’s lair.

Walking along the cobblestone path the pristine manicured surface became gnarled and cracked. Thorny roots had erupted from the ground and tore the quiet villa asunder. This unusual vegetation strangled the ground and wrapped up the nearby trees. Choking the very land in its malefic grasp.

Someone had tried to fight back this incursion, there were spots of cinders and ash. Blackened white oases in the forest of decay. This wasn’t merely the scene of a failed gardening incident. Roots didn’t rip doors off their hinges, this was another attack.

Reaching the threshold to the house Itrius looked back to his troops, he had arrived in a small unit of three and the others had gone, no doubt following their orders. A smile crossed his face, they listened to his first orders.

As he pushed into the house proper the stench of fire and death overcame him. The foul miasma assaulted him, with watering eyes he regretted removing his helm.

With creaking boards and fading light the scene only painted a more ghastly image. More of the roots spilled in through the walls, the windows. Thorns ripping and tearing into the home like it was nothing. This invasion was not without conflict. Blood covered the walls in sprays of crimson. Deep slash marks broke even more of the wood as the struggle waged on.

The home was built well enough, but it was still wooden, still crafted by human hands. It wasn’t uncommon this far south that those other than elves would take root. Like whoever lived here before, they were probably just trying to make a life, hiding in refuge from someone. But in a foreign land, with nothing to protect you but yourself he couldn’t help but to wonder. Maybe with proper wards this wouldn’t have happened.

Fingers touching the jagged scars left in the walls the Phoenix Captain squinted. These weren’t made by human tools, or even troll weapons…. Claws perhaps?

“The druids of the Amani don’t come out this far West…” Could this have been done by some ravenous beast? Maybe someone brought it here? That doesn’t explain the growth all around. There were far too many questions buzzing in his mind. Flame licked scorches coated the walls in a thick coating of ash, but there was no flames. Blood soaked the walls, but no weapons. A conflict had broken inside, and yet, their was nothing here, no survivors, no message, no… bodies.

Fire comes from the hearth maybe there would be something there. With each step forward Itrius feared the wood below him would give away, feared he’d sink into chaotic madness that was surrounding him. Maybe his fight would be like his elder, and he too would never return to Goldsea.

None of that mattered now, he was a Captain and he had a job to do. The stone work of the hearth was impressive, uneven rocks molded by a cement forced and cut into a straight structure. Masonry would never be a strength to the man, he was a soldier, not an artisan, but his sense of perception always served him well.

Kneeling down he examined the ashes in the fireplace. The quiet scene of one last night of peace played out in his head.

A fire lit, a meal prepared… a deep sniff gave that away, it was game, this person was a hunter, or at least traded with one. This fireplace was different then the rest of the home, there was an order to it, a story. While the rest of building lay in chaos and destruction this just seemed to look like a burnt out cooking fire. It wasn’t the source of it all. The fires came from elsewhere.

Pulling back from the hearth there was a sense of desperate frustration. He was an Investigator, that was job, but this place, there were just two few clues and too many mysterious ends. It would be a long time before he returned to the Dawnspire. This needed to be addressed.

Eyes dragged upwards to the shield hanging on the fireplace.The only thing resembling a clue. It wasn’t hanging straight, but the coat of arms was still present, it wasn’t a weapon or a defense just an ornament. It was left, a useless relic, but it meant something regardless. To the dweller of this place, this was the only remains of an identity.

“So forged in the glory of the Light, the family of Luxford.”