#also you do NOT need to match length

[elyrianinspo]

Frenchie had found some old mates from a previous crew he’d been a part of a few years back. They were quite impressed to discover that Frenchie was now sailing with Blackbeard himself, but Frenchie had been pretty scared shitless of him as of late if he was being honest with himself.

Had it not been for Izzy Hands, Frenchie wasn’t sure he’d even be alive. He seemed to be taking more abuse than the rest of them and Frenchie couldn’t complain.

Frenchie hadn’t even realized he’d been staring (again) at the older man until he heard the gruff voice over the sounds of rowdy pirates.

“Easy, does it, Jizzy. Just catching up with old friends.” He didn’t mean to antagonize him, but pressing people’s buttons was kind of Frenchie’s response to stress, and Lord above knew there was lots of that to go around. “I’m sure you would have some to join you, if they’re not all dead.”

While a low-blow, Frenchie had had a few, was a bit of a lightweight and okay, still sore about his friends being abandoned by the man he spoke to now. He drank down his drink and wondered what the fuck he was thinking. Maybe today is the day I die, finally. Sorry, Jim. At least they had Archie, now.

He had made his way down to Spanish Jackie's for a drink once they docked. Once he ordered, he picked a seat at a table by himself. He then noticed someone sitting nearby. "Fuck you want?" Izzy said, sipping on his rum. His legs propped up on the table as he drank. He wanted a minute to himself but he didn't think that was possible.

[sennenpharaoh]

@flamesignite

It had been a week since his burns have happened and now with the sudden jabbing pain to his side, he had to act. While he originally intended to just allow the burns to his face to heal naturally, for some reason they just... wouldn't go away. Maybe he was using the wrong ointment? Who knows, he was certainly not a doctor.

Alright, suppose he might as well try to heal them himself, or at the very least heal the burns. He did it to his hand a while back, surely it could work on his face as well. One would only hope.

Standing across from the mirror in his bedroom he took a look at his reflection, the burned marks on his face standing out now more than ever. Were they always this bad? He remembered that they were discomforting enough that he for some reason always felt the need to itch, but seeing it in front of him was... huh.

Okay, let's do this.

He pulled out a card from his deckbox. A healing card, one he had been using quite a bit often as of recently, and closed his eyes, preparing the spell. That's when he heard it.

"You IDIOT!!!"

Atem's eyes snapped wide open, immediately recognizing the voice. It was his Colonel's, filled with anger. Anger that he was looking for, but not for the reason he originally wanted.

That's right. The burns on his face were of his own doing, when he tricked-- no, manipulated Roy into snapping so that he could burn himself with his own card, seemingly catching Roy's "anger" for the events of Death Valley. He remembers that night vividly. The yelling, the fighting back and forth, but most of all... not just the anger in his Colonel's voice... but the pain.

That's right. I hurt him.

He lowered the hand holding his card to his side

I manipulated him. I forced him to attack me, all because I wanted him to punish me. I didn't want him to forgive me, I wanted him to be angry. But instead I hurt him. I'm no better than... than him.

He continued to look at the mirror, specifically the burns to his face, though it was obvious to anyone that he was starting to tremble.

I did the exact same thing Haga did to me... played with his emotions behind a false card. How could I have been so stupid?! I remember exactly how it felt when Haga did this to me, and yet I did the exact... same... thing... to Roy. He was right, you are an idiot!

A pause before he looked at the card in his hand.

I can't just... magic this away. I can't just magic these burns, and the hurt I did to him away! I can't! What I did wasn't okay! None of what I did was in any way okay! Actions. Have. Consequences!

Then his eyes trailed back to the mirror, although his vision seemed a bit... foggier than usual. A bit blurry, one might say--

Oh. Oh no you don't.

"You have no right." He scolded, though the only one in the room was himself. "All this time and now you decide you want to cry about it? The time to hide behind those tears left a long time ago when you felt his rage after what you did. Hell it took you to watch your duel against Haga for it to even stick, so don't you dare even try to cry about it now. You have no right. Not after what you've done. You hurt him. You did this to him."

He felt a sting to his cheeks, causing him to shut his eyes, which unfortunately allowed the tears that were building in his eyes to finally fall, making the skin sting even more as they ran over his burn. A horrible cycle. A punishing cycle, one could say. Fitting, as he hurt his Colonel's emotions with that foolish act, so should his emotions harm himself.

At least he was quiet enough, right? Maybe... no one would see him like this?

[quietlyblooms]

open to mutuals | just a lil zombie outbreak au ♡

“ he tried to bite me. ”

sitting with her back pressed against the wall, chiyo’s voice sounds far away as she stares at the closed bathroom door. she doesn’t speak above a whisper, doesn't look away even as the other approaches her. “ he tried to bite me, ” chiyo repeats, voice wavering. “ he was fine, and then he… ”

there’s partially dried blood on her face and hoody and in her hair. what did she do? a bloody frying pan rests in her lap. what did she do? the bathroom door has blood smeared along the edge — like someone tried to stop it from closing. what did she do?

chiyo finally looks up at the other, brown eyes glassy as her lips tremble. “ he wouldn’t listen no matter what i said. he— he tried to bite me, and i— ” she startles and stares back at the door. someone quietly shuffles inside the bathroom, listening, waiting. chiyo’s grip upon her pan turns her knuckles white, and she sounds unlike herself again. hollow. “ i hit him. hard. he still kept coming. ”

[vocesincaput-arc]

@ordinariums (crowley) liked for Post Season 2 starter [x]

starter under cut to avoid spoilers.

Aziraphale had been doing his best to fit into his new role as Supreme Archangel but whatever he did, he had this nagging feeling in the back of his head that something else was going on. That something wasn't right. Oh, he already knew that the other Archangels didn't particularly like him, but there was something more than that. Aziraphale wanted to do good & make Heaven better, especially if the plan was to go forward. But he just didn't feel completely right. Like there was something else making him stay there.

Then there was the fact that he couldn't stop thinking of Crowley. The demon had kissed him. Him.... Everytime he thought about it, Aziraphale entered an almost daze. Losing track of things around him. There had even been times when he had been discussing things in a 'meeting' with the other Archangels and his mind had drifted to Crowley and how things had been left.

Despite being eager to make a difference in Heaven, Aziraphale was already beginning to miss his life on Earth. The food, the hot cocoa, his bookshop, his demon.... oh. When had he started to think of Crowley as his demon? He swallowed and became focused on that, oblivious to what was being said. Aziraphale was broken out of it only when Metatron handed him a coffee and he gave a smile as he took it. Coffee hadn't really been his 'thing' on Earth but Metatron had been bringing them to him since he had come back to Heaven and, well, he hadn't wanted to be impolite. He was actually starting to rather like them as well.

The meeting continued as he sipped his coffee, suddenly perking up at the mention of someone checking in on Muriel in the bookshop. His bookshop. Oh, his bookshop.

"I could check in on them." Aziraphale said quickly, trying not to have his eagerness at the idea creep onto his features too much. He would love to see his bookshop again, he had been missing it so. And, well, there was the possibility of seeing a certain demon again. "I mean, I did reside there before, it would less conspicuous for me to visit. Act as if I were checking in on it and all that."

The other Archangels rolled their eyes but eventually agreed that it was the best idea. And so Aziraphale headed down to Earth, making his way to his wonderful bookshop with an excited look on his face. He waved to Maggie and Nina when he saw them though frowned when he saw the unamused and possibly annoyed look upon their features. What was that for? Aziraphale shook his head and went to enter.

[phantomrot]

@evilstalks gets gh.ostm.yers ♥

the hulking figure of michael myers is enough to make anyone's heart race. and tonight, just like any other squishy, terrified mortal, danny is stood before michael with his pulse loud in his ears. only, rather than feeling FEAR, danny is thrilled. they brought the smith grove asylum to its knees together, and as a result, michael gets to walk free. now, sheltered into an abandoned home that danny had prepped for their arrival, he gets to look at him with pure admiration in his eyes.

his own mask was taken off in the relative safety and privacy of the car ride. michael, as large as he is, must have been uncomfortable in the small little vehicle, and danny had heard his stomach growling. so he's putting a can of food into a bowl for his poor boy, settling comfortably into the role of taking care of him. the world will be difficult to adjust to, but danny will be here to guide him.

"they won't hurt you again. not as long as i'm around." a stalwart promise from a man who hardly knows him. "we'll stay here for a while until the police die down." and if that means they must physically die, then so be it. the room is crossed and the bowl is offered, chili with a hunk of bread and a spoon sticking out of it. that will at least get him started while danny begins preparing a place for him to sleep, piling blankets and pillows together in the least dirty corner of the room.

"we'll figure out where we're going from there. i'm, uh..." he smiles, staring over at michael with inky dark eyes. could he really say it? could he tell michael who he really is? "i'm DANNY, by the way."

[hecatombi]

@spookyagentfmulder // x

It wasn't every day that Vash went into bars for anything other than plant maintenance checks. Yeah, maybe he'll have a drink or two every now and then -- but, just as he'd always done, his first instinct when arriving to any new place is to scout the shadiest bar out. The one furthest from the cops, or normal civilians -- anyone who would turn him in.

Or, at least .. that's what he had been doing for as long as he can remember. Visit a town, check their water supply, fix their plants. Spend a day scouting out the shops, avoid the people so they don't get hurt. Leave. Find a new town. Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat. The endless deserts of Gunsmoke had been familiar to him for one hundred forty nine years. it's all he'd ever known since the great crash, too. And anything he knew about Earth, about plant life -- he either knew it from Luida or Rem, and he was always told that Earth had become a wasteland.

So, then --

Why now had he awoken on a planet so similar to Earth? Where was he? He can't even remember how he got here, or why there's so many people, or why the city streets are .. decidedly less higher tech than he's used to; if he didn't know any better, he'd almost say this WAS Earth. But, that wasn't possible -- it was supposed to be gone, wasn't it?

Then again, he knows more than anything that despite the weird vibes he's getting, and how out of place he feels, he must stay calm. Irrationality leads to dark places, and though it was tempting to freak out, he'd only JUST gotten here. He needs to familiarize himself with his surroundings, keep a keen, observant eye on everything going on. Maybe it was just a new place he'd never seen before on Gunsmoke, where they just HAPPENED to not have any sand or worms or endless bloody red oceans from where he could see. Then, it was time to do what he always did. Check out the nearest bar, and get the low down on just where he was. Shouldn't prove all THAT difficult, right?

... Ultimately, it took longer than Vash would like to admit to find a bar. There was no real clear cut signs, and this place was so colorful and vibrant that it almost felt overwhelming. The place wasn't made of the typical Gunsmoke building materials; nothing here felt as rustic. It looked kind of retro to him, with patrons all in equally bright clothings and chattering away to each other.

The thing that was sounding alarm bells more and more, though, was the fact that nobody really turned to look at him. Granted, he was still kind of condensed, as to not freak out the other humans in the bar -- but even so, he stood at a hefty six foot five in said form. And yet, while he was pretty tall, there seemed to be other humans his size, too? Usually, he'd stick out like a sore thumb from that alone, and from his signature bright red coat, but here .. that doesn't seem to be the case at all.

How.. very, very strange.

Well, alright. Might as well try to find a seat.

So, that he does. After gazing all around the establishment, he sees one open seat -- with a man sitting in one side of the booth, and the other completely empty. He seemed to be drinking alone -- and though Vash couldn't tell you why, he felt drawn to him. Keeping his head hung a little low, Vash weaved his way through people with inhuman fluidity -- and once he got to Mulder's table, he knocked gently.

"Auhhhmmm..." Vash sheepishly smiled, brows knit upwards ever so slightly. Scritching the back of his neck, and with a slightly nervous laugh, he shoots his shot. Hopefully, his smile was gentle enough to not be offputting in any kind of way.. "Excuse me, is this seat taken? I can't find anywhere else to sit, so ..."

[parancrmcl]

the rink had been giovana’s whole life. from the moment she could walk, she could skate. it wasn’t just because her mother had been an olympic skater—though that certainly set the stage—but because giovana loved the sport with a fierce passion. the ice was her sanctuary, a place where the world fell away and all that mattered was the whisper of her blades on the frozen surface. every glide, every jump, every spin was a testament to the countless hours she’d poured into perfecting her craft. she had climbed her way to where she was, not on the back of anyone’s money or influence—except, of course, her mother’s initial guidance—but through sheer grit and determination. it was this relentless pursuit of perfection that made her both a formidable athlete and, admittedly, a bit of a perfectionist. so when she saw the ice scarred and pitted by the hockey team, her heart sank. the smooth, pristine surface she cherished was marred by deep grooves and rough patches, a battlefield left in the wake of what she considered a brutish game. her lips pressed into a thin line as she made her way to the bleachers, her gaze fixed on the ruined ice. as she approached a familiar figure, she let out an exasperated sigh. “this should be against the rules,” she declared, her voice carrying the sharp edge of someone who took her sport very seriously. slinging her bag down beside her, she sat with an air of disgruntled resignation. “you keep tearing up perfectly good ice, and then we have to wait for the zamboni to smooth out the mess. the way you skate…” her nose wrinkled in distaste, the words hanging in the air like an accusation. usually, she could muster the patience to be civil, but today was different. maybe it was the tense conversation with her mother earlier, the pressure of living up to a legacy she both revered and resented. or maybe it was just the frustration of seeing her sacred space defiled. whatever the reason, giovana wasn’t in the mood to hide her irritation.

closed starter for @utterxsheartz. based on this.

[cloudbends]

first arc of horizons finished.... Broooo.... This keeps serving.....

[namenoted]

❝ well, here we are, ❞ he says, looking at the spread of books between them. ❝ man, where do we even begin? i guess ... at the beginning, right? ❞

he's putting it on heavy today. while there is nothing necessarily ominous about yagami, no shadow over his shoulder here (not in this world!), there is an air about him. he is a proper, well-put-together boy, and he is oddly helpful, well-mannered, and bred for success. the ultimate academic, an almost teen detective, and japan's top student —— and yet, here he is, sitting in his livingroom cross-legged with his hands on his knees, leaning back to stretch out his ribs against the lining of the couch's base frame and cushions. the tonkatsu he's pulled out is clearly expensive, and despite its use, has been well taken care of.

the general decor is a relative mix of traditional and western —— a nice house —— and yagami is obviously playing comfortable. maybe he really is? still, with company, it's best to keep up appearances. he can't be too comfortable. this person isn't keitaro*.

❝ hey, do you want something to drink before we get started? ❞ their introductory tea is empty, the small pot sitting near their discarded cups and saucers. ❝ water, soda? we also have chips if you want a snack. now that i think about it, i think i need a little 'brain food'. ❞ — @kuroyrii

[ickybby]

continued from here ♡

@eroslike

before things come together they have to fall apart. most situations in her life have a tendency to work out that way. just when the young mother is beginning to reach that point of pure exhaustion, stars align so she can see him again. anali doesn't hesitate to take the opportunity and call ethan to relieve some of that tension that might or might not be trying her sanity. just when she's about to snap that she's too goddamn tired for his shit she finds another irresistible reason to stay. the attitude is staying too, until it's temporarily fucked out of her. typically, she disliked it when people called her that. not because it's untrue, but because most say it with contempt. this time, the way he said it drove her crazy because he said it in a tone heavy with lust in every syllable. whatever snarky remark was on the tip of her tongue to bite back at him with dies when the tip of his cock enters her for the first time in far too long. the grip she has around him is a tight fit like the hold he had on her, a thick forearm unyielding against a delicate throat. his voice is hot against her ear, stern and clear enough to cut through the uneven whimpers and moans as he finally bottomed out inside her. a warm hand splayed over the lower part of her torso; anali wondered if he could feel his length pressing against his own fingers as he stretched her out on his cock. the salacious thought lingers in her mind for only a second before his hips settled into a ruthless, steady rythm. anali was already crying out each time he ruts into her. but when his hand travled down to toy with her glistening slit, then back up to her buxom breasts her cries turn into choked screams. the striking brunette spasmed around him as he buried himself so deep her eyes fluttered upwards. her brain was working hard to form the conntection necessary for her mouth to string words together as an answer. "m—mmhn, 'feels like a lot. this feels like exactly what i— a-aahh, needed!"

[needlenxggin]

"Hey, hey!, easy..."

The blondes tone was soft as he crouched low one hand reaching out to gently rest on the other persons shoulder. A particularly nasty fight had broken up, surprisingly one he was NOT the cause of this time, but that didn't mean he was going to sit back and let people get hurt.

Vash remembered throwing himself into the midst of the chaos spotting someone who had not been suspecting to be caught up in all that and got them out of the bar safely. He gave them a moment to breathe before continuing.

"You ok? You're not hurt are you?"

There was a gentle but concerned look to the blondes blue eyes as he looked the other over ignoring the slight pain in his ide from a hit he took as they were more important than he was. He could worry about himself after.

[orchideae]

There was almost no sign left of the patrons that Yanshang had hosted for hours on end throughout the evening. The remnants of cigarette smoke from one particular benefactor unfortunately being the last to go, and it was always this specific lingering scent that'd prompt the delicate wrinkling of her nose. But the fragrance of light spices of incense would overpower it soon enough; either that, or the smell of the freshly fried dew-dipped shrimp she'd only just brought to one of the seating areas, alongside the smallest bowl of jueyun chilis. A personal indulgence after, well, did anyone ever truly need a reason to indulge in what delights them most?

Tonight, in ever rare exception, the establishment would serve as an abode to her. Solitude, peace, and quiet— something that the sounds of stumbling footsteps and overbearing whispers right outside those doors were definitely not a part of. Whatever was at cause for the entirely out of character behavior and disturbance originating with the Fang and Halbert didn't truly matter, but it definitely was at cause for them to retire a little earlier tonight. But it was an enduring curiosity that beckoned her most to ease the door open and peek, and it was soon rewarded: the wood met the briefest of resistance (was that Halbert's ankle?), and amusement bubbled in her throat at the sight of him stumbling. "What is going on—?" She started amidst relative bemused gaiety, though the cause of the commotion soon became clear. The Yuheng.

Such a revelation prompted the door to continue its inching outward, a gesture of invitation from one to another. "Forgive me, Yuheng, I didn't realize that I had one of your greatest fans employed here." That too came served with a chuckle, though one of jest at the Halbert more than anything (and she was rather certain that she'd never seen him light up red before), before she continued. "Thank you, both of you can go home early tonight. I'll see you in the morning." It was not done in malice or reprimand, it was no more than a dismissal after a day's work. And once both had gone, one scrambling a little more messily than the other, the invitation came again, the door left open as she slipped back within the walls of Yanshang. "I wasn't expecting the company of a celebrity tonight." Yes, she was going to linger on this some time longer.

@starwardsword // A 'little' owed starter

[quietlyblooms]

this was supposed to be an ask response but well :' )) it went off the rails, so @1punch gets a separate thing instead!!

chiyo doesn't see saitama for a few weeks after her recovery.

she doesn't see anyone for a few weeks, too busy with work and pretending as if she isn't purposely taking on a heavier load to keep it that way. the more chiyo works, the less time she has to think, the less time she has to remember. the more chiyo works, the less likely it is that someone close to her will ask how she's doing when they must know she can't be doing well. they just want her to admit it and confide in them; they just want to be the ones to save her from the storm cloud that hangs above her head.

well, chiyo doesn't want to be saved. she doesn't think she particularly deserves it. anyone might say she did all she could, that she saved lives in the end, and she shouldn't allow the death of a villain to weigh upon her, but it doesn't change what happened. chiyo failed her friend, and she failed her long before her death. no one understands that, only thinks of the wounds she suffered. she's sick of it, sick of their reassurance, sick of---

she's sick of being in the hospital.

a stern doctor chiyo is all too familiar with leaves her with strict instructions to rest and a huffy, " you're lucky i didn't call your parents. " saitama makes eye contact with her briefly before she's resting her face in her hands. she is lucky that they called her friend at her request rather than her family, even if it isn't much better to make saitama worry. the first time he sees her in weeks, and it's in the hospital, looking as if she's been chewed up and spat out. that isn't fair to him.

when she intentionally worked herself ragged, chiyo didn't consider how it would affect her job or the people around her. she didn't expect to pass out, and new guilt rests heavily in the pit of her stomach, settling uncomfortably with what she's felt the last month.

this could have been much worse. she could have passed out during a fight, jeopardized someone's safety. she can't keep doing this.

" 'm sorry, saitama, " chiyo mutters behind her hands before she's running them through her hair and allowing them to drop to the edge of the mattress she sits on. she can't meet his eyes again, can't manage a convincing smile. " i shouldn't be troublin' you with this, but the doc wasn't gonna let me go without callin' someone, and my parents... well, they're already a bit much to handle right now. " she should give them a break -- they nearly lost their daughter. a pause, heavy with hesitation and words she doesn't know how to say, and chiyo sighs.

" thank you for this. "

[lackenthusiasm-moved]

@butnobodyhome 💙'd for a starter!

The smaller MacLean didn't expect he'd be following the precedent set by his sister so quickly, but upon his escape from Vault 31, it was clear Vault 33 was no longer the safe haven it once was…if it ever really was. It would only be a matter of time before Betty found out what he'd learned from snooping around, and Norm knew she would have no problem with defending her position aggressively if needed. The others wouldn't believe him without substantial evidence, they were too entrenched in what they had been trained to accept by Vault-Tec. What was left for him to do but pack a small bag of supplies and exit the vault to the surface.

It had only been a day and a half since Norm left the comfort of the world he'd known his entire life. He'd made it to Filly, a settlement that up until recently was a bustling marketplace, he was told by a local. When he asked why it seemed so quiet there now, the local told him that the Brotherhood of Steel was to blame, not that Norm knew who or what they were.

In his asking around, he learned that the Brotherhood were soldiers…sort of. And that they’d taken over Filly to use as an outpost before relocating to an NCR base. In between that, he caught glances and quiet whispers about his Vault suit and another Vault dweller who'd passed through recently. Could it be that they were talking about his dad or Lucy? Felt too close to be just a meaningless coincidence.

He approached a woman who was wearing a dress and cowboy boots. She seemed, somehow, to have a familiar appearance as well, although he was sure he'd never seen her before in his life. “ Excuse me. Sorry to bother you, but do you know anything about the Brotherhood of Steel? Or the…NCR? ”

[livestosave]

@caeloservare liked for a starter!

       The training rooms at Atlas Academy had always been one of Qrow’s favorite parts of visiting the frozen continent. While he rarely had the chance to use them himself, unless he had been sent on official errands for Oz, the huntsman had usually contented himself with the occasional chance to watch the goings-on. For all that he loved Beacon with heart and soul...well. Little compared to the sheer adaptability of the Atlas training rooms.

      The chance to actually participate? To draw Harbinger, and let the program throw grimm at him until he wore himself out? That was...thrilling. Or, of course, if Clover or Winter was available, to use the changing arena to make a more interesting fight? Well. How could a man resist?

      Sanguine aura flickered across his skin as the latest wave of holographic grimm faded, the program giving him a few moments to decide how he was going to proceed. A drink of water...a wince.

      Qrow’s mouth twisted in distaste as his shoulder and back twinged, the tremble of his right hand nearly enough to send Harbinger out of his grasp. Carefully, the corvid shifted his weight to settle himself on a small wall, catching his breath as sweat dripped from his graying hair and he tried to get the trembled back under control.

      He wasn’t ready for the doors to the room to open to James Ironwood, but the general and headmaster was met with a wry huff of tired laughter. At least it wasn’t one of the kids.

      “Need something, James? I may a need’a minute ta catch my breath, but ya can tell me what it is while I do.”

      And if he shifted Harbinger to his left hand, and tried to tuck his right against his stomach, well...he was a master at pretending he was fine at this point. Even sober.

[livingecho]

" It's really not your fault ! " ⸻ @moralpuppet

he missed his home . leningrad , oh how it calls to him . more now as he sits in this bland church ( they call this a church ? where was the grandeur to God & all of his glory ? it was more of an empty box ... ) that taught differently than her orthodoxy nature . they speak of punishment ⸻ hell for all eternality . what an odd concept . true doctrine made sure that one needed not to punish nor harm but to teach & guide . yet here they change the words of christ ... another curious difference . where all americans like this ? bending things from God to how they see fit .

perhaps .

but they lived here now . after papa had made some strange deal with the americans government in exchange of their removal & protection from the ussr . why father desired to leave their beautiful mother land is beyond him but ... vissarion could not bare to be apart from family . that was why he & this little family followed vadik over seas into the shabby little town called moralton .

regardless . he sat towards the back of the church near a window with his daughter in her wheelchair to his right . she sat perfectly still , staring forward at reverend ... putty ( americans & their funny sounding names ... suppose his own is funny enough to them . best not to judge . ) taking in his words .

today the sermon was about loving thy neighbor . a cute remark considering this was the first time the hellberts came to church ( or , rather , two out of the five . father detested church & his wife , vivian the first ... well , less said about her the better. ) what was the cherry on top was there was an added detail : love them even if they sin for we could bring them into the light of God's good graces & away from satans grasp ! shepard them & blah blah blah .... well , vissarion will have some fun undoing these teaching to his darling daughter .

with the sermon over ⸻ & the feeling of many eyes on the his skin , he was quick to get up & wheel vivian towards the exist ( but not before asking permission ! always ask permission , lest she fusses ... it is her only way of walking . ) but in his escape attempt vivian's wheelchair bumped into another , causing them to halt & both apologize at the same time .

❝ i ⸻ ❞ vis clears his throat , making sure to do his best to sound american enough . ❝ no truly i am sorry , i must pay better attention to my ❞ ah , what was the word in english ... ❝...surroundings . ❞

vivian looked up , eyes locking onto orel for a moment . she noticed as he walked when she was being wheeled out . a limp ⸻ vivian always noticed things like that . it was easy when people ignored you , thinking you aren't paying attention . she leaned to the side a touch , trying to see if he had a peg leg ... a missing leg ... something similar to her but all she saw was shiny black shoes .

❝ ... you walk funny . do you need a wheelchair too ? ❞ monotoned & expressionless she asks her question , only to be quickly hushed by her father who fumbles to keep up appearances .