#and i feel like none of that went into jeanne

[pan-gya]

very hot take but i prefer fsr jalter over fgo jalter

[ficretus]

Feel like I haven't written anything substantial in a while about Joan of Arc Knightfall. Quick tl;dr, in context of Joan of Arc Knightfall Cinder takes the role of Dauphin, having many parallels.

Been going through some sources and I've found a curious detail regarding the secret Joan told to Dauphin. Secret was something Joan told Dauphin that immediately gained her his trust. As far as I've understood it previously, she told him he was the rightful King, dispelling his self doubts. That works well with Knightfall considering Cinder's self doubts and her self worth issues ("without you I am nothing..." mantra). However, this source says secret was something different.

"...secret referred to something which the Dauphin himself, had done, “a vow which he had made,” “something great which he had done,” “a thing that none could know save God and himself.” At her Trial Jeanne went so far as to admit that he had a sign “connected with his own doings.” 

So something Cinder has done in the past, something only she knows. Something that left some kind of sign on her.

Huh, this traumatic past event and scar fit the bill.

Dauphin also had the secret prayer.

“uttering no words, but in his heart imploring God that, if he were indeed the true heir, of the blood of the noble House of France, and the kingdom rightfully his own, God would please to guard and defend him; or at least grant him grace to avoid death or captivity, and escape to Spain or Scotland"

There are two parallels here. Both desire freedom and both perceive power granted to them as rightfully theirs. Although interestingly enough, Dauphin perceives freedom as more important as he is willing to abandon his Kingdom for it.

------

More simple interpretation is that Jaune will somehow figure out bits of Cinder's past. Instead of condemning her, he will console her. She'll put her faith in him, starting her redemption arc.

Tinfoil interpretation is that Jaune already knows. As seen with Ruby seeing Summer's last mission, Blacksmith is capable of showing visions of other people. What if at some point during his stay in Ever After Jaune was granted the vision of Cinder's past. That would make him the only one besides her to know about it, and he would be aware of sign that it left. It would also fit the oracle aspect of his primary allusion.

[gensokyogarden]

💢 Your Remilia is so content all the time. Let's see how angry she can get. >:D

Feel the anger

Alright, for this one, lets take a journey into Remilia's past. I'm not sure there's anything presently in Gensokyo to put her at her angriest, so we're going back before that.

Crash

Moonlight struck Remilia's face as a large chunk of the ceiling collided with the ground before her. A barrage of splinters blasted off into her Marie-Jeanne Bertin dress. Bathed in the light of the moon she could finally see it. The poor thing was ruined at this point. Thick shards of wood jutted out from every direction while blood stained her bodice.

Chateau Ecarlate had fallen. For near two centuries now Remilia's status as a distant branch of the royal family had protected her from scrutiny. There were those who spread rumors of a bloody devil who stalked the streets, some few wannabee vampire hunters, but few dared act against the nobility. This was a privilege lost in the reign of terror. The woman had looked forward to an end of aristocracy, it had gotten old, it was time for something new. The optimism she held for the future was blind to the boldness that her hunters would find in this new era.

They'd come during the day, while she'd slumbered, an entire mob of village men stirred up by a priests and supposed monster slayers. It was smart yet they remained haughty fools by choosing to strike in the evening. They feared the many guards who stood at day more than they feared Remilia. It was a mistake. Her journey from her chambers to the main hall had been a brutal one.

She stood amid her crumbling home, what blood she had boiling with rage. It was then that she smelled something. Smoke. They'd lit a fire? Where!? From the east wing. Wait but that's where ... FLANDRE! The rage that she felt just a moment before was nothing compared to the absolute fury that bloomed in her heart. A home could be replaced but family couldn't.

There was shouting across the room. Some of the home invaders were here. They'd been here for several seconds now but Remilia had been too focused on catching the scent in the air to pay them much mind. The only reason they caught her attention now is because they were between her and Flandre. They'd been shooting at her but none had struck. Not that it would matter either way.

"You meager gnats! I've been too kind to you. I was going to let you all get away. Spare the rod spoil the mongrels."

Remilia was a tall and elegantly dressed woman yet she was also a thin waif with a shrill voice. To an outsider her screams of fury towards a crowd of armed men looked ridiculous. Then she moved. By the time the men had raised their muskets she'd already closed the distance between them. She rushed for the man at the front of the crowd and went through him.

Her speed was immense and her body was durable. Humans? Not so much. The hall was flooded with the sound of screams and a sickening squelch at the moment of impact. Remilia stood before the others splattered with viscera. Several ran off screaming into the night, the bravest among the towns folk raised their weapons at the girl. She made no attempt to move. Instead Remilia raised her arm to her mouth and began greedily lapping away at the entrails that covered it, like a beggar at a feast. There was a crack as musket fired. The ball struck her straight in the chest, directly through her heart, and out the other end. She didn't flinch. Scarlet red eyes shifted onto the man who fired.

"Please sir, I'm trying to savor my meal. Don't temp me with another. I'll get fat."

She laughed at her own joke. Globs of blood flew off her face and splattered around her as she did so. There was a brief moment of calm and then Remilia moved again. She fell upon all of the others with less fanfare than the first. Nothing but a cloud of blade like claws and razorsharp fangs as she shifted from one man to another and another and another. By the end of it, the mass of gore that covered her hall couldn't even be recognized as human.

The violence of her carnage was fun but did nothing to quell her rage. No, it was only slowing her down on her way to Flandre. She approached the east hall's entrance. The door flew open as another group of invaders burst in. Seems they'd heard the screams. Doing the same thing again would be boring and only slow her down further. This seemed a good time for her fate manipulation."

"Ah yes, hello, sorry I'm in a bit of a hurry. You there!" She'd pointed towards the man at the front of the group. "You're going to destroy him now. Oh don't use that barbaric tool! Be refined! Your fists and nails are fine." The command echoed through the air. The man dropped his musket and suddenly attacked his compatriot while Remilia cackled. "Hmmm, no. Still too long. How about this! You're all to do your absolute darndest to destroy everyone else! Winner will go play with my hounds, okay?"

The sounds of brutal combat and witch like cackling echoed through the manor as Remilia finally crossed the threshold into the eastern wing and rushed for Flandre's rooms. She was in a hurry now. Those few invaders that got in her way were dispatched in an instant. There were not many, their own flames having driven them off. Now she was there. Before the door to Flandre's chamber, something that had been thankfully untouched by the inferno.

Remilia reached towards the handle. Just as she grasped the knob there was a crack as a bullet struck her. She whirled around to see a woman standing opposite of her. A silver haired nun of some sort. Remilia readied herself to move and then ... the other pulled out a cross.

The vampire screamed as if suffering an agonizing pain as she was faced with a symbol of the true faith. Her body flinched away and pressed against the door. The tension on the nun's face was replaced with relief as she nervously stepped towards her. Remilia's gaze shifted to what the woman held in her hand. A wooden stake. Her face twisted into an expression of fear and yet she did not move at all. The other neared. Closer and closer. Then, with the cross shoved into Remilia's face, she shoved the stake through her chest like the bullet before.

Remilia let out an anguished cry. Her eyes slammed shut as she lurched her body forward. It was as if she had collapsed onto this woman. Her head drooped over the woman's shoulder. It was as if she had the other in an embrace. A sound slipped from Remilia's lips, like the last gasps of a dying beast. Then her eyes fluttered open just a tad.

"Okay ~ you had your moment."

Squick!

Remilia suddenly sunk her fangs into the woman's neck. Aggressively drinking more and more as as terror shot across the other's face. Remilia could tell that she wanted to scream but with the pressure she was applying to her throat it was not possible. As she pulled her lips away blood squirted from the room onto her face.

"A noble attempt ma'am. It may have worked but it seems the true faith in my heart burns hotter than yours."

The vampire took the crucifix from the woman's hand just before she slipped to the floor. With a soft laugh she turned and opened the door. With a warm smile she stepped into the chamber. The anger in her heart evaporated the moment she saw Flandre safe and sound.

[blam-marie]

A Metaphor's Guide to Rewriting Destiny

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In the morning, Compassion left to join the scholars wherever it was that they worked. He told me that he wanted to get a clearer idea of the situation in the city, especially now that I had escaped. But I couldn’t come with, for fairly obvious reasons.

I hated staying behind. Inaction had never suited me. I spent all morning pacing in the staff’s common room until finally Jeanne took pity on me and showed me upstairs to the guests’ bathroom. I didn’t feel like I needed another bath so soon, but clearly she felt otherwise. She left me there while she went back to work, and warned me sternly to not wander around.

I had no intention to simply stay put and wait for her return. I had done far too much of that in the early days of this manifestation, back when the holy fire of my essence still struggled to settle in this new form. I would never let myself feel this vulnerable again — until the next time I was forced to by the cycle of death and rebirth, that is.

The hotel was an old and beautiful building, but it exhibited signs of being slightly past its prime. The gilded furniture was just out of date, the elaborate paintings on the ceiling could have done with being retouched, the carpets showed wear. It hovered at the edge of what could be a steady decline or a spectacular renewal, should it receive the proper care. I found a window at the end of a corridor and stood watching life pass me by on the other side of the panes. The streets were crowded, but none of the crowd lingered. People were moving with that very specific nervousness that I knew meant they were afraid of behaving in any manner that could be seen as suspicious. A small group of teenagers kept gravitating to eachother to exchange a handful of words then flitting away like starlings, glancing at their surroundings with no subtlety at all.

I sighed. This city was a powderkeg. I didn’t want to be here.

As I turned away from the window, I almost bumped into a man coming the other way. He swerved with a muttered apology, then froze in his tracks. He turned back to me. I tensed, all of my muscles singing in anticipation of a fight.

“Mrs. Wright?”

The name was so unexpected that I felt my entire body lock in place. No one had called me that in quite a long time. “Come again?”

The man was staring at me with wide astonished eyes, taking in not just my face, but also my entire body. “It is you,” he murmured. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. You have my condolences.”

I blinked. Then I remembered the window’s dress and veil. Sour bile flooded the back of my throat.

The man was still talking. “What happened? If that is not too personal a thing to ask?”

“Who are you?” I blurted out.

“Oh, do forgive me. I am Guillaume Lavoile. I was friends with your late husband. We met at a reception at Felicitate manor… oh, a very long time ago, now.” He patted his stomach and laughed, although it lacked any humour. “I was much younger and thinner, then.”

The name unearthed a memory in my brain.

“The french novelist. You exchanged letters. We were supposed to visit you, four years ago.”

“Yes! Exactly! But you never arrived…”

“No. We had an accident. He died.”

His eyes widened again. “Four years ago? But…” He stared at my clothing again, which were those of deep mourning. “Well, I suppose that four years is so very little time, in the grand scheme of things…”

“It was nice meeting you,” I said, then turned to leave.

He touched my shoulder, but fortunately for him did not grab it.

“Wait!”

I waited.

“My dear Mrs. Wright, would you like to sit down with me? I’m here to meet with a writing group, but I am certain they can make do without me for the afternoon…”

I have no idea what possessed me to agree, but soon enough I found myself sitting in a beautiful common room with Mr. Lavoile, on a plush settee in front of a fireplace, with a glass of wine in hand. Perhaps it was because the man kept calling me Mrs. Wright. It had been my husband’s last name, not mine. Hearing it applied to me should have chafed — it certainly did, back when he was still alive. But today, somehow, it felt bittersweet.

I eyed the man as he took place next to me. He had a round jovial face, with flushed skin that could have been explained away, had the texture of his curly hair not given him away. He should have shaved it; it was painting a target on his back. The Theosians could not possibly be kind to him. Unlike Compassion who had made an effort to be forgettable, Lavoile was dressed in the latest fashion. An elegant cane with a silver handle was passed from hand to hand with insousiance as he sat; clearly an accessory rather than a necessity.

I had no recollection of meeting him face to face, but if it had happened at Felicitate manor, then I was not surprised that the memory would have slipped my mind. I had not been at my best back then. I did remember his penmanship; Ambrose used to read his correspondance out loud at the dinner table, and there had been quite a lot of it.

As his name brushed my mind, I had to close my eyes and collect myself.

Ambrose.

Ambrose Wright.

The late Ambrose Wright. Of which I was now the widow. Around me, the world kept turning, with no regard for how things had broken apart for me.

“Are you not concerned?” I was compelled to ask.

“What about?”

“I am Rage.”

“Yes…? And why would that be concerning?”

“Your city is not exactly… stable, right now.”

He scoffed. “If it was not well known that Rage is Wallen I could call you Theosian. There has always been much of what you represent in this city. I would not call that a bad thing. Besides, you are more than this. I would not insult you by reducing you only to a purpose that you have been assigned.”

An assigned purpose. I had never heard it put this way. Much was always made of the shape of our natures, but never about whether or not we had chosen these natures. I did not respond for long enough that my companion felt some need to clarify his meaning.

“Your husband always wrote so beautifully of you,” he said softly. “Always, he spoke of the woman within the Exemplar.”

This did not comfort me. I had warned Ambrose many times against using me as his muse. There was three thousand years of me that he did not understand, compared to the scant decade that we had known each other.

“He was a poet,” I dismissed. “A born liar. His craft was to make things more interesting than they really are.”

Lavoile looked amused. “Ah, but all the best lies have a grain of truth in them. And nothing can inspire such verses that is not interesting. You are a story, my dear. Stories that are predictable do not get told. They need heart to be alive. Truly, you will not convince me that you are made of rage alone, and nothing else.”

“Wish that was not the case,” I muttered.

Lavoile watched me in silence for a few minutes, then asked the question that I had been dreading.

“Where were you, these last few years? What happened?”

I tried to find a succinct way of explaining my situation that would not lead to too many follow-up questions.

“My presence in Theos has been deemed dangerous. Not everyone shares your belief that I am anything other than a carrier of anger and strife. I have been made a guest of the Lighthouse.”

His eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. “That is outrageous! Without a trial?! How did I not know about this?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you truly so high in politics that you would expect to be told these things?”

He could have been. I had missed rather a lot these last few years. But last I remembered, Guillaume Lavoile was a novelist and what’s more, an editorialist, which I understood to be as mortal enemies to politicians. Not the sort of person that the king would rush to inform about my presence in Theos.

“Yes, yes I am!” he said. “I am a citizen of this country, am I not? No one should be detained — especially not in the Lighthouse, and especially not an Exemplar — without it being publicly available information!”

I stared at him with bemusement and a little awe. “You are peddling dreams! In what kingdom would that ever possibly be the case?”

“Dreams are what civilisations are built on, my friend. The future and the past need not be the same.” He shook his head. “I will write a bulletin at once and decry the injustice of your imprisonment. The people need to know.”

“No!” I snapped. “You will do no such thing. Unless you want my daughter’s blood on your hands.”

“Your daughter? How do you mean?”

“She was taken,” I informed him flatly. “To ensure my compliance. Now that I am loose, I need to get her back as quickly as possible, before the king decides to punish her in my stead.”

Lavoile’s face coloured in anger. “How dare he!” he boomed. “She is but a child!”

I flicked a glance at the entrance to the common room. We were alone for now, but if he kept exclaiming this loudly then we would not be for long. The man seemed to realize this as well. He dropped back to his seat and leant towards me.

“How long ago have you escaped?”

“Yesterday.”

Realization crossed his face. “The banquet. I wondered why it had not been posponed. Mind, I didn’t want it to be. It’s important to hold on to our stances, even despite the king’s tiranny. But now I wonder… was it meant as a distraction? To cover your rescue?”

I nodded. He gasped.

“Brilliant! On, that is well done. It will make a very good story someday, if you would honour me with the telling of it. In the meantime, I am assuming your daughter is held somewhere close to the king?”

“In the palace itself, if I am not mistaken.”

“Good,” he said. “I mean, not that it is a good thing,” he clarified when he saw me tense, “but good in the sense that I think I may be able to find you a way in. A friend of mine, you see, if the art teacher of the Duchess of Camerise, the king’s daughter-in-law. I can ask him whether he knows anything that could help.”

I hissed in a breath. “You would do that?”

“Of course. What has happened to you is revolting. Such a thing should not have happened in Theos. Whatever it takes to fix it, know that I am on your side. I will help you see it through.”

My heart was doing something strange in my chest. Compassion offering help to me made sense. But this… It was entirely unexpected.

“I don’t know what to say.”

He waved a hand as if to wave my words aside. “You do not have to say anything, aside from perhaps this: where can I find you again once I have news to share?”

“I am staying in the basement here, with the staff.”

Something dark crossed his face.

“Of course. That is always where they want to put people like us. But we will not stay down. We will always come back up and force them to look at us.”

I did not agree with that ’we’ of his. I would have been perfectly content if no one looked at me again for the rest of my immortal life. I was not Spite, I didn’t burn to prove myself. I wanted it to be socially acceptable to stab people who looked at me wrong, that was all.

“Come and stay with me,” he continued. “I have a small appartment here in Lutèce. It will be my honour to host you and you will be much more comfortable.”

“Thank you, but no. The basement will do. And besides, I am not here alone.”

“Is Peace with you?” he asked.

I startled. The question was so unexpected that I almost asked him to repeat himself, certain that I had heard him incorrectly. I tried to control my reaction, but could not quite prevent myself from sounding strangled when I replied. “Why would you think that?”

“Oh, I am sorry for assuming. But, well, there are rumours that she was seen in Theos. Four years ago I believe, right around the time you dissapeared. I simply wondered if…”

“We crossed paths,” I interrupted brusquely. “Four years ago, yes. But I am not with her now.”

He nodded. “Then may I ask who…?”

“Compassion.”

His eyes brightened. “Ah! A decent ally to have in these troubled times.”

I growled. “Only in theory, I assure you. In practice he is most irritating.”

“Yes, I imagine you and he would be as fire and water,” he laughed.

We lapsed into silence for a few seconds. Then, seemingly coming to a decision, Lavoile picked up his cane and held it out to me.

“I want you to have this.”

I held his gaze as I placed a hand slowly on the silver pommel. I pushed on it, then twisted the cap. I felt him chuckle as I pulled out the long metallic lenght of a blade. I inclined it this way and that, examining the craftmanship. Then I sheathed it back inside of its ebony tube before taking it from his hand.

“Thank you.”

My new friend nodded. He stood up once more.

“I should leave, now. I will return once I have news. But before I go….” He held a hand out between us, brushing the edge of my veil. “May I?”

I held still. Gently, Lavoile folded up the crepe fabric and bent over to drop a single kiss on my brow.

“When you find those who have hurt you,” he murmured, “Strike true.”

[adamwatchesmovies]

Waterworld (1995)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

Waterworld has a ludicrous premise. That didn’t mean it was doomed from the start. If properly executed, it could’ve been great. Unfortunately, instead of spending time developing the world and characters, this movie just kept throwing money at the screen.

In the distant future, the polar ice caps have melted and sea levels have risen to cover every continent on Earth. A lone drifter (Kevin Costner, whose character is never named but is referred to as “The Mariner”) arrives at a floating community to trade dirt - a rare commodity - for supplies. When “The Smokers” - a group of pirates with access to fuel - attack, he reluctantly takes on a woman, (Helen, played by Jeanne Tripplehorn) and her daughter, Enola (Tina Majorino), whose back tattoo is rumored to lead to the mythical “Dryland”.

I gave this post-apocalyptic sci-fi film the benefit of the doubt. Yes, there’s no way the ice caps melting would cover the whole world but the film needed to happen. Try as you might, your suspension of disbelief can only do so much. We’re told it’s been hundreds of years since the water’s covered everything yet The Smokers (so-called because they are always smoking) have access to fuel, bullets and modern-day vehicles. The blacksails fire shots like they’re never going to run out of them, they drive around on their jet skis non-stop and you have to assume they’ve been doing this for hundreds of years… but how? They’re hardly conserving their resources. In fact, there’s nigh a spear or a crossbow to be found ANYWHERE. I know fans will say the way the Deacon (Dennis Hopper) and his minions keep their vehicles running is explained but the explanation is really just there to give this picture a big, dumb explosive conclusion. It might sound like nitpicking, but these examples show an utter lack of effort. No one sat down and really thought about what a Waterworld would be like.

You can’t say this is a bad-looking movie. If anything, it looks TOO GOOD. The Mariner’s ship has all of these levers and opening doors and mechanisms which look impressive but make you wonder how he managed to put it together. Same for the human settlements we see throughout. Everything is too slick and too solid. They feel like sets. Similarly, the action scenes go on for too long, are too big and too well coordinated to feel real. Everything’s got this overly grandiose, self-important feel to it. And yet, you don’t understand where the $172,000,000 (give or take a couple of millions) budget went. It’s just that expensive to shoot on water, I guess.

Built upon a flimsy world whose rules are not well explored, we have four major characters, none of which are the least bit interesting. The little girl’s given little to do. She might as well be a wad of paper with some scribbles on it. The Smoker’s captain is a goofball who feels completely out of place. The Mariner’s a grump who takes so long to warm up to his passengers you just don’t like him, which leaves you looking at Jeanne Tripplehorn for salvation but her role is thin. Not aiding is the lazy, repetitive plot which is so reminiscent of George Miller’s post-apocalyptic films, it feels pointless. Waterworld may have a shiny coat on but it’s little more than a watered-down imitation - literally.

The film’s moments of comedy all feel misplaced and even the adventurous moments clash with the grim tone found throughout. Every few minutes you get a flash of what this picture could’ve been only to see the potential wasted. Waterworld never becomes the movie you want it to be. (Full-screen version on VHS, January 18, 2019)

[saryneid]

Hello honey, I'm only happy to write something about him.

I also want to say that I do not support any of the actions, my letter is only fiction, and this is just for fun .

Just enjoy.

Summary: Being blessed with an anemo vision is truly amazing, but do you know what they are for?

The vision... A truly amazing thing, and you, as a person who was very interested in both the archons and their history, were pleased with such a gift.

That's just ... Why exactly anemo?

Though you were interested in the archons but you have never been so believing.

And from your knowledge, you tried to understand why, and to answer this question.

As you know, from your acquaintances with visions, or from the stories of other people how they got their vision, you learned that anemo is given only to those who are very striving for freedom. Or lost a loved one...

Not very positive...

But none of the aspects suited you.

So why?

* * *

All the same, vision is a very useful thing.

As time passed in thought, you did not forget about the new thing.

After all, whatever one may say, you cannot get rid of it, but it could be useful. — Those were your thoughts at the time.

And you weren't wrong

But still, thoughts about why they couldn’t leave your head.

* * *

Thanks to the traveler, you were able to get to Dvalin's lair, as the bard called it.

And this bard seems extremely familiar to you.

* * *

" Sweet, so sweet and beautiful.

Don't you deserve more? "

The thoughts that have haunted Venti's head lately.

Y/n.. why do you distrust me?

Did I do something wrong? Did I reveal myself ahead of time? Why?

One question, two minds.

* * *

I met her when, in spite of fear, she helped others.

It looks like my friend...

But still, my feelings are not at all similar to those that I experienced for a friend.

I want to... take her?

When did it start ... just helping and protecting a child, and my heart was already grabbed with two hands and taken away.

The God of freedom who wants to deprive her of him own citizen of him own city, what an irony.

* * *

Meeting with a traveler, and Y/n....?

What is she doing here, it's dangerous, she might die here!

- Traveler...

- Why did you bring other people here? It's dangerous and it's personal. — Venti's voice and eyes were as cold as snowy winds.

But you didn't flinch.

You are still the owner of the anemo element, and you are with her on "you".

- I came for personal reasons, and I will not engage in combat or anything like that. I just want to explore this area after defeating the protector of the winds.

"Y/n, you are really beautiful..."

"I am ready to dedicate to you, and your courage, everything in you, millions of songs and ballads."

Thoughts that Venty will voice after defeating himself, but for now, he will be better prepared.

* * *

After the battle in which the Traveler won. Venti and the others left while you Venti and the others left while you went to turn your words into reality.

The building... It contained so much new information for you...

Except, Venty's eyes haunted you after he came out... They were an ominous pink hue, so poisonous...

Okay, you should think about your work, and not have your head in the clouds.

* * *

- Bar- VENTI! — scream Jeann.

"Am I...infected?

I feel so much power...and desire?"

I knew that Dwalin was infected, but I did not think that I would become another victim of this "virus"

My eyes began to see a lot.

And I realized

Why fight your own desires? The expression of one's own feelings and desires is also freedom...

* * *

And you realized.

Your vision was given to you because of a desire, a strong one, an Archon's desire.

The true purpose by which I received the vision was...Poison...Falsehood and illusion.

I got it because of a whim of fate, I became stronger for the sake of the Archon whose history I was interested in.

But the Archon whose whim was fulfilled was not the god of freedom...it was sent by his own desires.

The answer has been found.

Honestly, I was inspired by some drawings with "pink" Venti. Or, to be more precise, the poisoned Honkai.

✄肉丸

@/rouwan on Twitter (author of drawings about "pink" Venti)

I hope that I fulfilled your request and brought you some emotions.

@: @beta12121

[moonlightdancer26]

More music! And from my last ask, I completely forgot that Percy and Ron could be an option for Chosen Last by Sara Kays if you look at the family dynamic. I'm on the computer now so I might be able to fit more songs and be a bit more organized, along with attaching links to it. Also, don't worry, none of these are rickrolls because, oh boy, is this a whole cycle.

I Deserve to Bleed by Sushi Soucy could be a Snape song. 2. Two Birds by Regina Spektor could be a Snape and Lily song or Peter with any marauder, personally I personally like to think it's with Remus since both were the back/overlooked while James and Sirius were the fronts/seen first when it came to the group. 3. 君はできない子 by Kikuo could be a Snape and Tobias (his father) song. I linked in the English cover. 4. Lover by Plot Twist, ft. Rose & Kennedy is another prongsfoot song from Sirius's perspective with James and Luly ending up together. 5. Moral of the story by Ashe is another song about how jily would break apart. 6. Suneater by Jeanne Firestone could be a Snape and Lily song. The whole song is very much Snape about Lily. 7. I Love You but You Make me Cry by Elthia is a Remadora song or maybe Hinny 8. I Knew You Once by Hollie Allen is a Snape and Lily song.

That's all I've got now, I hope you enjoy the music and the links work! :) Tell me if I start to annoy you with the song recommendations, I don't want to be a bother! Another thing before I sign off, I love your little family interactions. Funniest shit I've seen.

Ahh thank you so much! I really appreciate all the effort you’ve been putting into these asks <3 (and thanks for linking them 😭)

1. I imagine the lyrics are what go through Severus’s mind everyday. :(

2. platonic!Snily and Remus x Peter friendship>>>>>>

3. THAT’S SO SAD 😭 Thinking about what child!Snape went through breaks me

4. I’VE ALWAYS THOUGHT THIS

5. Lily deserves so much better than James :/

6. 💯

7. imagining it as Remadora though 🤧🤧🤧

8. idk whether to feel happy or sad about this 😩

Again, thank you so much for your effort! and dw, you aren’t annoying me at all—though I think you should know that, ironically, constantly apologising for supposedly being annoying is pretty annoying lol.

[asknarashikari]

The show always baffles me....whenever the Vistamps botch up the animal motifs that the Riders may already have. Including obvious ones like... the Build Vistamp being Kangaroo themed instead of Rabbit themed. And recently, Kabuto Vistamp being themed after a Centipede (I get that there was already a Kabuto Vistamp for Vail but why not do an Atlas Beetle instead for Kabuto?). I get there are limits for animal themes for the rider themed vistamps but still, that's some smartass logic George had.

I think recent events have proven that George isn't as logical as he thinks he is. I'm sure it makes some sort of deranged sense in that brain of his, but he ain't telling anyone what that is.

From a meta perspective though it's even more confusing. It sorta feels like Bandai had all the toys ready to go, only belatedly realized that they had to do the anniversary aspect and scrambled to fit Riders to the Vistamps that aren't Rider specific or powerups. It could also explain why the Legend Rider theming is mostly cosmetic, and why none of the actual Vistamp abilities really match the Riders they came from.

Like... what in the heck about Hibiki screamed "scythe"? Or Ex-Aid with "skateboard"?

And some of the choices for Legend Riders (and which Revice Riders got to use them) was also confusing. Like... initially they made it seem like Demons was getting all Showa Rider Vistamps, but they went and gave him Joker? Jeanne got Hibiki and Aguilera got OOO? They went and gave all 4 Riders from Build Vistamps when no other cast got the same treatment? The immediate predecesor Saber's is an exclusive given out during the crossover movie only and never actually used in-show? What is going on here???

[hadjalterdoneanythingwrong]

Jeanne rushed down the hall, making her way to the medical bay.

It had been days since the incident; weeks, even. Every day she came here, praying for things to be better.

And every day, not a single god answered.

"How is she?" She asked, stepping inside without hesitation.

Roman, Da Vinci, Mash, and Merry sat by an occupied bed. Merry's hand clung to the hand of the girl in the bed. None of them gave any response.

"...Well?" Jeanne repeated. "How is she?"

"Jeanne..." Mash whispered. Her voice quivered, as if she herself was on the verge of screaming.

"She can't still be stuck like this. She can't." Jeanne's voice maintained the same volume, but something was still rising deep within it; whether it was panic or fury, no one could tell. "We're Chaldea. There's no way we'd just let her—"

"Jeanne," Roman interjected, "you've known longer than anyone else that she's something beyond us. Whatever happened to her, if it was powerful enough to hurt her—"

"Then we'll hit back even harder as soon as she wakes up!"

The lights flickered and dimmed. The air grew warmer.

"You can't tell me there's nothing we can do, not after everything we've already accomplished! We've come so far, and I'm not about to let some—"

"Jeanne."

Merry's voice was the quietest, yet it cut through the air like nothing else could. Jeanne immediately stopped talking as Merry's eyes went from her lifelong partner to her partner's Servant.

"...Please. Let her rest."

"...Merry..." Jeanne stepped closer. "...you can't tell me... you can't tell me you're content to just sit here. You..."

"I'm not content." Merry's voice cracked. Her eyes flickered with flames, both burning blood red and a somber, dulled blue. "...But I... we don't have a choice."

"Like hell we don't—"

"Jeanne." Steam poured out from Merry's eyes, trailing up to the ceiling. Her tears were burning away before they could escape. "I'm asking you... as someone who loved her just as much as you did—"

"Stop." Jeanne's voice also broke. She got even closer. "Don't... say it like that. You still love her. I still love her. She isn't gone. She isn't gone! She..."

Her eyes gazed down at the girl in the bed.

Her fiery orange hair, pulled into a sidetail with a deep sapphire-blue scrunchie.

Her face, scarred in many places, yet still soft and unbetraying of any age.

Even her hands seemed as soft as they were the day Jeanne met her.

But there was hardly any color left in her skin.

No light left in the soul of her Master.

Deep down she knew.

She knew that Ritsuka Fujimaru was dead.

Her knees hit the floor. The lights flickered and fizzled until every light in the room was out.

The negative energy swarmed around her. Every awful emotion imaginable seeped into her skin.

But there was no roar. No rage.

No hatred.

Everything she absorbed, she bottled up, and it threatened to eat her from the inside.

Hours passed. Not another word was spoken. Most of the others eventually left.

Even Merry felt the need to give Jeanne some time alone.

And alone she was.

Now.

Forever.

All over again.

Slowly she rose, and she went to the bed's other side.

Her hand found Ritsuka's other hand—

—and found something in it.

A box.

Small and velvet.

And as lifeless as her body was, her hand gripped it tightly.

Jeanne made no attempt to pull it out. She simply wrapped her hands around Ritsuka's hand, and pulled it closer.

"...You wouldn't want me to cry." Jeanne whispered. "You always said... that if anything ever got to you, you would want us to find it and hunt it down.

"But I know what killed you... and I don't know if we can even touch it." Her hands gripped tighter, feeling them become warmer. "Your killers... are free. Free of consequence. Free of judgment. And parade their escape like you were the monster all along.

"But... even still, I will not stop fighting. I will not stop fighting. For as long as I breathe, I will carry on the way you would want me to. I will kill. I will kill everything I see.

"I will kill for my love. I will kill for the only true love I ever knew. And I will kill for the endless lifetime of hate before me." Jeanne's eyes closed. "...I love you, Ritsuka. And someday I swear I'll see you again. Even if we have to meet each other cutting through fiends in the deepest depths of Hell."

The hand released the box. It clattered onto the floor, opening up. Jeanne's eyes shot open and gazed down upon it.

Inside was a ring, shimmering like the moon, inlaid with stones that sparkled like the night sky, from Ritsuka to the girl that died before her.

A small note also fell out, and Jeanne reached down and picked it up, slowly unfolding it.

The words were written in a dull red-brown. The note itself smelled like rust.

It read,

"I could never dream anything more than what you've given me."

[diamaker-moon]

Moving Forward - Chapter 4

Chapter Four

First day and investigations

—————

"Haven't you heard?" She asked back in a cold tone.

"Heard what?"

"You're class... drove Marinette to transfer schools. All because of you guys." She said in an icy tone before passing by him then rest left him in the locker room— gaping.

— previous chapter... —

Adrien was stunned.

'Marinette transferred schools?! When did that happen?!'

He stood there for a few minutes before fishing up his phone and texted Marinette, he waited for a reply, but nothing came. He came back to his classroom in a daze.

He didn't bother sharing the information with anyone, thinking that Lila might steal the spotlight again. And besides, he was too busy thinking why Marinette needed to transfer, and why she didn't inform him— her friend.

Nino was worried for his best bro. Adrien barely spoke throughout the day.

Meanwhile, Marinette was given a few hours in the morning to roam and get acquainted inside campus grounds. She was joined by Allegra, who happily toured her and introduce her as well to every student they pass by.

She was enjoying her time in Jeanne.

But behind all the happiness she was feeling at the moment, there's a huge responsibility whispering in her ear. The Cat Miraculous is currently in camouflage mode in her right ring finger as a rose gold ring. She needed to find either a new permanent cat holder or a temporary one. Part of her wants to trust her dormmates. She couldn't trust her temporary heroes anymore, aside from Viperion and Ryuko. 

She could imagine Allan using the Turtle miraculous since he is already protective of his friends. She was stuck between Claude and Allegra for the Fox miraculous.

Claude is a theatre kid, he can imagine a lot of things and that can help during battles but he's more of a fighter than hiding in the shadows. Allegra, however, can do the opposite.

But for now, her main priority is to find a cat holder, even if it has to be temporary. It was a good thing that she had bought a mini fridge for Plagg's camembert stash and stored it in her room or else her dormmates might think she's a cheese hoarder!

All the teachers and students in Jeanne were very welcoming. Her classmates were friendly to her, and her teachers are fair educators. When there is a disturbance in the class, they reprimand both students not only one, and Marinette noticed that there's no 'model student' treatment like the one she had in Dupont.

It was lunchtime, she and her dormmates decided to eat in a nearby restaurant. She missed how she just goes home and eats lunch in her home then sometimes returns with a bag of pastries as snacks. She missed her home and her parents' bakery.

Marinette and Allegra were busy chatting about Marinette's current state in Jeanne, while Claude and Allan are busy bickerings on who will win if Batman and Iron Man fought.

Félix just observed them, and from time to time read on his book.

None of them saw a blonde looking at them with a melancholic look. The blonde smiled bitterly before they left the restaurant.

"Are you all done? Lunchtime is almost up." Félix announced.

The other four nodded and paid for their meal, then walked back to school.

Marinette wants to thank her luck and Tikki, for not having any Akuma throughout the rest of the afternoon.

Upon returning to the dorm, she went inside her bathroom and stared at the mirror. She was looking at her reflection, but somehow it felt unfamiliar to her.

The girl in the mirror, has her hair down, wearing a white button-up shirt underneath a black blazer that had red accents and trimming, the school crest sewed on top of the front pocket and a red tie. Paired with it is a plaid red, white and black skirt that reaches up to her mid-thighs, she also wore black knee-high socks and strapped two-inched heels.

She moved her hair on the right side a bit and saw her signature black stud earrings which are actually the camouflaged ladybug's miraculous earrings, then the rose gold cat miraculous on her right hand that moved her hair.

It was a huge change.

She was used to seeing her previous look since Dupont doesn't require school uniforms but Jeanne does.

Marinette sighed then stripped out of her uniform to take a short shower.

Once she came out of the bathroom, she was wearing light pink high-waisted shorts, a white halter-top with her signature flower design, then a sheer black cardigan.

She turned the soundproofing on then locked her bedroom door before she let the kwamis out of the miracle box.

"Did you have fun on your first day, Marinette?" Tikki asked.

Marinette hummed before answering. "Yeah. It was quite strange to see all the students wear the same outfit, but everyone was very welcoming. Quite different in Dupont. And there were no Akuma attacks today!"

Tikki smiled at her holder. The kwami thought that the girl deserves it. She needed a new environment away from the previous one since it was toxic.

Marinette was skimming through the Grimoire, and the kwamis knew not to be close enough since it is prohibited to know about the knowledge inside the book.

Shadowmoth. A unified Butterfly and Peacock miraculous holder.

Hawkmoth was becoming stronger, and Marinette needed to be ten steps ahead of him. She cannot use her previous temporary heroes.

Rena Rouge, Carapace, Pegasus and Roi Singe betrayed her in their civilian lives, unknowingly. She cannot trust them in battle, even if they were efficient heroes.

She was alone at the moment. No temporary allies, and no partner.

But she might have a lead on who Hawk—Shadowmoth is.

She looked at her bulletin board that is hanged on the wall.

If anyone ever saw the board, they might think she is a detective, due to having a map of Paris wide opened, with marks, sticky notes, red strings, etc.

She closed the book before putting on a sleeve cover for the book then plainly placed it on her desk together with a stack of books.

"Marinette?"

She hummed before looking at her left seeing the kwamis stare at her.

"We finally might have a lead on who Hawk—Shadowmoth is. Why does he need to change his name? The hawkmoth is already a stupid name, but he had to change it to Shadowmoth! Ugh!"

The kwamis laughed at their guardian's frustrations.

"Who do you suspect, Master?" Wayzz asked.

"Plagg, do you know where your previous holder got the book and tablet?" She asked the cat kwami who's busy eating a wheel of Camembert on top of her chaise.

Plagg looked to her before swallowing the rest of the whole wheel then answered.

"In his deadbeat of a father's office. That's where we found the book first, inside a safe behind her mother's painting."

Marinette hummed.

She had valid points at the moment to suspect him. And no one can prevent her from suspecting the fashion guru like before when she had Chat Noir as her partner. He was adamant that the guru isn't Hawkmoth, but now she understood. The man was his father. If the fashion guru is Hawkmoth, he'll be losing both his Mother and Father.

Something clicked in her mind. The alternate reality that she prevented: Chat Blanc.

She gasped. Then hurriedly grabbed her notebook that has all her points and suspect list with a list of reasons. She flipped the pages towards Gabriel Agreste's page.

Possible Suspect: Gabriel Agreste

Affliation: Fashion Designer

Relationships: 

◈ Emilie Agreste (Wife)

◈ Adrien Agreste (Son)

◈ Nathalie Sancoeur (Assistant)

  Reasons why suspected?

- Mme Agreste has been gone for three years, can use the ultimate power to wish her back.

- Secluded from the outside world.

- Assitant is very devoted, can possibly be the ally— Mayura.

- Another possible ally— Lila Rossi. Got akumatized after leaving from the first bathroom confrontation looking all smug, and has been akumatized repeatedly. Also might be involved with the Heroe's day illusion of Dark 'Ladybug'.

- Akumatized when suspected before. Hypothesis: possibly to divert attention?

- Very attentive and tried to reach for earrings and ring before during 'The Collector' after getting de-akumatized...

- Briefly saw an intrigue look on his face when he saw Chloé open a miraculous box in public.

- Has the Grimoire. Now, he also had Master Fu's tablet (stolen possibly during Miracle Queen battle)

-Theory: Chat Blanc said that Hawkmoth was a reason why the alternate timeline was destroyed by Blanc, Marinette is almost akumatized before (in original timeline), is it possible that in that timeline, Hawkmoth tried to akumatize Marinette then accidentally finds out Chat Noir's identity, leading up to a possible confrontation? It is quite hard to choose between a family relative and a relationship...

Marinette observed the page. If she was impulsive, she'd probably march up to the Agreste Mansion, but if her possible suspect is truly a villain, she cannot impulsively attack since he had two miraculouses that can create an Akuma and a Sentimonster.

She was a tactician. She always thinks about how she can use her lucky charm, and mostly in the most complex ways on how to use it.

The only thing she can do for a while is observing the Older Agreste.

"It's decided then," She looked at the kwamis then continued her sentence.

"We're going on a stake-out outside the Agreste Mansion, and possibly the inside as well. But that mansion is heavily guarded with cameras! How am I going to enter it?!"

She annoyingly said the huffed.

"Kwamis can help with the cameras and if there are alarms!" Trixx reasoned.

"Hmm... That can be useful... But how am I going to get an inside look? If there's a hidden safe behind Mme Agreste's painting in M. Agreste's atelier, I need an entrance."

Plagg thought about it before gasping.

"I can look around! I've been in the mansion for a long time, I can search around that room to see any open windows or entrance!"

Marinette actually smiled at that statement, she scratches Plagg behind one of his ears which made the cat kwami purr in happiness.

"Looks like someone earned a prize!"

The kwamis laughed in seeing the stubborn cat kwami happily purring due to the young guardian scratching him. Marinette needed a thorough plan. A plan to look around M. Agreste's atelier without being detected. And if she is lucky maybe retrieve one of the missing miraculous.

—————

"Nathalie!"

The woman flinched before she composed herself and made her way towards her boss's atelier with a tablet in one hand.

"Yes, M. Agreste?"

The man was seething, and she didn't know why. The last time she saw him like this was when they caught Adrien taking the miraculous book to school.

"Where's the Grimoire and the tablet?"

Nathalie blinked. "It's in your hands Monsier. Or maybe safely hidden in the safe."

Gabriel sighed deeply. "The book and the tablet is missing. I check the cameras, Adrien got it again, but when I asked for it back, he said you had it."

"I'm sorry, M. Agreste, but I didn't even know that it was in Adrien's possessions. I'll look around the mansion, maybe Adrien misplaced it, I'll also ask him to remember where he left it."

Gabriel nodded and dismissed her.

Inside Nathalie's head, it was trouble. They were fortunate to steal the previous Guardian's tablet that has a translated version of the book, to fix the Peacock miraculous. They had also found a translated pages about the power-ups but we haven't figure out what it actually means. They also don't have a backup copy of the translated pages!

"Adrien? Adrien."

Nathalie knocked on the younger Agreste's door. She heard a faint 'wait, Nathalie!'. Soon the door opened and revealed a dishevelled Adrien who was currently drying his hair with a towel.

"Yes, Nathalie?"

"I heard from your Father that you had the book and tablet he's looking for. Do you remember where you left it?" She said and noticed how Adrien paled.

"I was only looking at it, I left it on my desk but the next morning it was gone. I figured that you might've found it on the desk and took it back to Father... That's the only place I left it before going to bed."

She observes the young boy and hummed. She instructed Adrien to try and look around thinking that it might've been misplaced.

'I have a bad feeling about this. It's already bad that it's missing, but if my theory is right that it is in Ladybug's possession, we might be at a disadvantage.'

Chapter 3 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 5 

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Senator from Montana

CHAPTER SIX: The Bipartisan Deal 

Featuring Sen. Jon Tester and Sen. Mitt Romney

After weeks of negotiations with the White House and a bipartisan group of nine other Senators, Senator Jon Tester had secured a deal on historic infrastructure legislation. The group includes Republicans Sen. Mitt Romney, Sen. Bill Cassidy, Sen. Rob Portman, Sen. Susan Collins and Sen. Lisa Murkowski, along with Democrats Sen. Joe Manchin, Sen. Kyrsten Sinema, Sen. Jeanne Shaheen and Sen. Mark Warner. Two or three of the male senators I could fuck, none more than Sen. Rommey. Lets just say, I other things are on my mind besides the negotiations running in and out of that conference room.

So I was horny and with the deal completed, I was hoping Sen. Tester and I could do some after hours celebrating as its been weeks since we last hooked up. But I had a hitch in my plans as I opened conference room door. Jon was sitting facing the door alone with Sen. Romney.

"Ah, there you are. You've meet Sen. Rommey haven't you?" Jon said as he wave me over.

“Yes, Sir.” I said as I walked over to the table.

Sen. Romney eyed me as I approached. With an ageless sheen, at 73 the senator was handsome with his trademark plastic grin and his perfectly sculpted head of suspiciously dark hair.

“Hello, son.” He said as he offered his hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Sen. Romney.” I answered quickly shaking his hand.

“Call me Mitt, son. Jon’s been telling me all about you.” He said.

"Has he now."

“Yea, I told him your a great cock sucker.” Jon added.

“That he did. Why don’t you sit down with us?” Sen. Romney asked as he pulled out the chair next to him.

I glanced over at Jon.

“Come and join us. Like I said, we’ve been talking about you.” Jon said.

“Jon said we could have a little fun with you.” Sen. Romney said.

I glanced over at Jon again. He laughed and said, “Hell what’s the matter. You not in the mood for sex? Got yourself a headache?”

That's when Sen. Romney stood up, unbuckled his belt and jerked his pants down. Suddenly I found myself looking at nice size uncut cock. It wasn't as thick as Jon's, but is was a third longer. And he also had nice hanging set of balls. Then pulling his foreskin back, exposing a big mushroom-shaped dick head, Sen. Romney turned to Jon and asked, “Jon, mind if I let your assistant suck me off?”

“Hell, no! Lucas, suck him.” Jon ordered as he stood up beside Sen. Romney and added, “Come on. Let me see you suck him.”

Apparently, Jon has been reading my mind as I quickly dropped to my knees in front of Sen. Romney. His dick was still hanging limp, but it was beginning to swell up as I closed my mouth around the foreskin draped head of his dick. Sen. Romney let out a sigh as I sucked gently on his foreskin-covered dick head. Then as I slowly pulled back his foreskin and started tonguing his naked dick head, Sen. Romney throw his head back and said, “Damn! That feels good.”

“Didn’t I tell you he was a born cocksucker?” Jon said as he too dropped his pants and started jacking his own dick as he stared down at me. I looked up at Jon. At 64, he was a handsome man with his $12 flattop haircut and scuffed black cowboy boots, looking least like a senator and more like a retired football lineman. But still a Congressional male lust-object in the world’s most exclusive club.

“Go ahead, take all his cock down your throat. I know you can do it.” Jon said as he stared straight at me.

Staring up into Jon’s blue eyes, I started swallowing Sen. Romney’s dick. I could tell he was enjoying watching me suck Romney’s dick. So, I took more dick down my throat than I had ever done before. I swallow inch after long inch of Romney’s dick. I thought I would never be able to swallow all of it, but looking up and seeing Jon staring down at me while he feverishly jacked his dick, urged me to a supreme effort. Finally my lips were pressed against Sen. Romney’s pubic hairs. Jon suddenly flashes a big grin and without missing a beat hollers, “See. I told you he could swallow your dick.”

I started sucking his cock wildly, giving him fast and strong suction around his beautiful thick shaft.

“Damn! It feels wonderful.” Sen. Romney said as he reached down and grabbed me behind the head. He started fucking my mouth with his long dick as Jon watched in glee.

“Yea! Fuck him with that horse dick!” Jon cried out as I watched him pumping his dick faster and faster.

I was in heaven as I felt Tony thrusting his hips into my mouth to make me his personal fuck. I loved it. I love Jon watching me sucking Sen. Romney. I loved that he was forcing his dick down my throat. Suddenly Jon had his gorgeous rod pointing towards my face. Sen. Romney was still in control as I continued to suck his cock until finally pulled his cock out of my mouth and turned my face to Jon's cock. Quickly I was on it, sucking to be fed his honey. These guys had me! I was their whore for the evening.

"Maybe we should get him to a room and put him to work." Jon nodded and we got dressed and head to Sen. Romney’s townhouse.

Sen. Romney led the way as we all went into the bedroom and started undressing. It was a large master bedroom with a nice king size bed, neatly furnished and clean. Jon smacked my ass and told me to get up on the bed on all fours. Both senators came around the bed and kneeled on the bed in front of me. Sen. Romney fed me his cock first, forcing my throat down deep on his long thick cock. Immediately I knew what I was doing to adjust my sucking to please this man. Mitt pulled out and Jon put his cock in, pumping my mouth to his tune.

Mitt said he wanted to fuck me and my excitement grew as I was anticipated a cock up my ass. Jon kept fucking my mouth and playing with the  back of my head to show me his rhythm. I felt Mitt get back on the bed between my legs. My ass was up for him to reach. Kindly, Mitt put some lube on my ass as I felt his two fingers massaging my ass, pushing in and out to loosen me up. He suddenly stopped and I felt the tip of his cock centering my asshole.

As soon as his dick made contact, he immediately thrust all 8 inches into me. I gasped loudly as his big sausage massaging me as my ass lips tighten around his shaft. Jon continued to fuck my mouth, his cock stiffened as he watched Mitt fuck me from behind. These guys were using me to polish their cocks to the tune of their own pleasure. Mitt began slamming my ass and forcing me to deep throat Jon's cock. Mitt was digging deep and what a feeling! His cock was a thrill to have inside of me as I didn't want him to ever pull out; to be his cock sleeve and have him wear my ass was pure excitement and  pleasure.

"You got him ready, Mitt, cause I'm ready for that ass now."

Mitt waited till Jon was ready before he finally pulled out, came around to the front of the bed and brought his slick wet juicy cock back to my mouth. Wow! What a treat! Jon wasted no time sliding his cock up my ass. I knew Jon knew how to himself and in return give me pure satisfaction. He moved my ass to ride up and down his pole, using my hips as handlebars to massage his cock  to his rhythm. He started pounding my ass furiously, slapping it was his free hand like he was riding a bronco. Mitt was stiff as a board and I wanted his cum. Sucking evenly and slow I felt him start to tighten.

“I’m cuming!” Sen. Romney said as my lips locked around his shaft and anticipated his cream. Up it came as I felt the vein on his shaft fill and shoot.

"Mmmmmmm...." Mitt moaned as more and more of his cum flowed in wads as he came in my month. What a load!

Jon was close too as his pumping got faster and faster. Watching Mitt and me must have taken him to the brink as he assaulted my ass with his big cock. Soon he was filling my ass with ropes of cum and I felt it filling me up.

Exhausted, we all back on the bed when Jon said, "We've just been fucked good!"

[has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong]

Let There Be Cake!!

In which an assortment of Mastersonas visit Seihai’s Chaldea for some tea.

Disclaimer: Err well this may be a very random representation of all the masters, but I hope you enjoy it. (lmao) This may be a bit ooc ;; don’t destroy me pls

Decorating the tables with napkins and cutlery; Mash, Gudako and Seihai helped prepare for today’s meeting.

“I can’t believe so many masters are coming to visit,” Gudako grinned, as she nudged Seihai in the ribs- her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re lucky that I managed to get people like Emiya to lend a hand with the cooking!”

Rubbing their side indignantly, Seihai grimaced. “Hey, don’t nudge me like that! And yeah, I’m grateful...I almost had a panic attack once I caught sight of the guest list.”

Seihai was struck with awe once they realized how many different Chaldeas existed concurrently amongst one another. All they had sent out was a measly little pager, yet it had managed to make a huge impact.

“...To think that parallel worlds really exist...I dunno what to say, really.”

“Haha, try seeing it this way instead- if we can even summon servants from mythological epics, then who’s to say that only one version of this world exists? For all you know, we may live in an entire realm of endless interdimensional universes!” Spreading her arms wide, Gudako reared back her head with laughter, as Seihai accidentally tripped over the table. “For all you know, there may be 100 Gudakos! And they probably all have a nice harem tucked under their sleeves, as well!”

Before Gudako could lapse into yet another one of her much-loved rambles, Da Vinci rushed towards the door of the canteen. “Yahoo! The guests are all here, Gudako, Mash, Seihai. I sure hope you’re prepared!” And with a wink, they were back out the door again.

“Senpai, I think that’s our cue to go now.” Mash cuts off Gudako’s resistance by wrapping her arms around them. “No, senpai. Let’s leave Seihai to deal with teatime today. Good luck, Seihai.”

“Thanks....” Seihai muffled a laugh when they caught sight of the flailing Gudako, who was passionately yelling “NO, I DON’T WANNA WAIT ‘TIL LATER! I WANT TEA NOW!”

‘Gudako sure is an interesting master...’ Taking a deep breath, they went to greet the guests gathering within the hallway.

As soon as Seihai turned the corner, a ginormous loaf of bread was thrust in their direction.

“GWAH!” Leaping back in surprise, Seihai almost tumbled to the ground, until another master with cool, black-lace boots helped them up.

It was Candace and Quin!

“S-sorry about that. You know...I saw your face, and the bread. Yes, well here’s some bread.” Candace smiled softly, as they passed their loaves to Seihai. “I wanted to pass a gift for today.”

“Thanks, that’s nice of you. This bread smells amazing...I feel like I’m in bread heaven...” Turning back to face Quin, Seihai grinned. “Thanks for the save there as well, Quin. You have great reflexes.”

“Ah, that’s nothing much! I just wanted to help, that’s all.” Quin smiles sweetly, as they peer at the bread. “Ooh, that does look tasty...”

“It’s bread courtesy of my own Olive Garden,” Candance’s eyes gleamed with pride; as Quin giggled softly.

“I’ve heard the tales of your Olive Garden as well. BB says that she’d like to make dragon steaks there someday.” As Quin cheerfully shared this, Seihai paled in terror.

‘BB? DRAGON STEAKS? SHE’S NOT GOING TO COOK LIZ AGAIN, IS SHE?’ Only Seihai worried about this, as Quin and Candace enjoyed a good conversation about all of the madcap shenanigans that occurred in the Olive Garden; as well as BB’s cooking skills.

Once Seihai lead them to their seats, they greeted the next group of visitors. There, was none other than Kiryu- with a shy Bunyan lurking by their side, as they held hands- and Julius, holding a rather interesting contraption.

“Nice to see you both,” Seihai waved. As they peered down at the trembling Bunyan, concern flickered across their features. “Is Bunyan okay?”

“She’s just a bit shy,” As Kiryu patted her head, Bunyan smiled brightly. “Hope you’ve got some good drinks and snacks for today.”

“Err...Well we have some tea and stuff....Hahahaha...” In fact, Seihai had no idea at all what was going to be served for tea. They had more or less left everything up to Emiya. “Yeah...”

“I’m looking forward to it too,” Julius unleashed a rather huge machine. “In order to celebrate, I enlisted the help of a few allies to make a ‘magical tea’ device.”

“Cool, what does it do?” Kiryu gave it a light tap.

“It can create tea; in any flavor you want.” Julius explained excitedly. “And by any flavor, I mean any.”

“Nice. That’s more my kinda style.” As Kiryu hi-fived Julius for his genius idea, Seihai clapped with wonder. Julius’ inventions were awesome.

“Thanks, Julius. Well, the canteen is just by there. I’ll see you in a bit!” As Seihai went to look for the other guests, they were caught off guard by an array of floating cards.

Yes, floating cards.

‘B-bruh..what?!!!’ “Y-yo...” Seihai smiled awkwardly as they backed away from the dancing cards. ‘Shit...Where’s my runes? SHIT!’ Worried that they were magical spirits or something, Seihai was about to unleash the algiz rune to make a protective ward- until the cards transformed into people!

It was an amazing magical trick. Arising from a sparkling array of stars was none other than Faye and Vann; two mages that were very adept at magical skills. As Seihai breathed a sigh of relief, Vann posed.

“Yo, it’s me! I’m excited for some tea today.” Vann gave both Faye and Seihai a fist-bump.

“Me too, it’s my first time visiting here! Glad to make your acquaintance.” Faye shook Seihai’s hand.

“Nice to meet you both as well." As Seihai greeted them, the two began to discuss their various skills.

"I'm amazed you also know some card skills and tricks, Faye. Think we could work together?" Vann summoned a card from thin air.

"Hehe, I was taught them by some good allies of mine. Sure, why not?" Pirouetting, Faye invokes a supreme burst of magic, as a bunch of photos land in her hands. "I've been putting my magic to great use lately."

"Ehh! Lemme see!" Vann and Seihai clamored around Faye, as they peered at her photos. "WHOA!!!"

In her hands was none other than a gleaming collection of rare Ereshkigal and Serenity photos....photos that were worth their weight in gold.

'Hot damn, that's so adorable...' Seihai's eyes watered slightly when she caught sight of the cute shots of Serenity laughing and Eresh blushing. 'Faye has some mad skills.'

"Whoa, you gotta teach me that sometime...Wait. Seihai, where are we going again?" Vann looked up suddenly. "Aren't we going for tea?"

"Ah, yeah...I forgot. The canteen’s just by your left.” As they went off on their way, Seihai freaked out in horror as yet another card leapt into their face-Vann grinning mischievously at them as he and Faye walked along.

“H-holy crap...card magic is so good, yet so scary at the same time...” Seihai hoped that they could be as good as them at magic someday. Finally turning to look for the other masters, they bumped into some familiar faces.

“Oh, there you are! We got lost on our way to the canteen,” The final group of masters stood nearby, waiting in the wings. Maya, Val and the mage trio of Kat, Cris and Jeanne greeted Seihai, as they lead them to the location of the tea party.

“Ah, sorry about that. Actually, I also got lost trying to locate you all,” Seihai grimaced. They had lived in Chaldea for god knows how long; yet still struggled to find their way around!!! “How are you all doing?”

“Never been better.” Maya spun to the side, tapping their feet. “It’s a nice break from my regular duties.”

“Ooh, you mean your duties as the CEO of Chaldea?” Kat shot them a wide grin. “How’s that going?”

“Perfectly well! I’m having a lot of fun. What about you? How’s the trio doing?”

“We’re doing great! Although Spartacus ran into a bit of a frenzy during the movie shooting recently,” Jeanne spoke reflexively, stroking her chin.

“Haha, sounds just like him!”

As they burst into rancorous laughter, Seihai tapped Val lightly on the shoulder. “How about you, Val? Are you doing alright?”

“Huh...? Oh, yeah?” A light blush sprinkled across her cheeks. It seemed as if Val was hiding something. And Seihai definitely wasn’t the only one to notice. Leaning towards Val, Maya cheered.

“You hiding a little something?” As Maya winked, Val’s blush deepened.

“Er...Well, you see...” Sucking in an enormous breath of air, Val swung a ginormous box out of thin air. “The girls and I picked out a bunch of tabletop RPGS for us to play! But I was a bit worried that you guys maybe wouldn’t want to play...So, yeah. Well, you know.”

“Val...” Seihai’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. The fact that Val had gone out of her way to bring games that she carefully selected with the people she loved...It was adorable. So sweet that Seihai clutched their heart. “I really appreciate the sentiment. Thank you.”

“Yeah, we do too. Games are good fun,” Cris patted Val on the back, as Maya helped Val carry the enormous boxes. “No need to worry.”

“Trying out new hobbies is good! Besides, I read Jeanne Alter’s doujinshi on a daily basis. There’s no way I’d judge you for that.” Maya was right. Hobbies were great to share!

“...Thank you...”

Once everybody had gathered for tea, utter chaos ensued. As Seihai panicked, Emiya was competing against Julius’ tea machine. That’s right; Julius’ tea machine was a challenger in Emiya’s eyes. However, Emiya won the competition once he showed off his brilliant bartending skills- by elegantly pouring Kiryu a nice cup of beer.

“Heh. Not even a tea machine can match up against my bartending skills.” His expression was smug.

“He’s got you beat on that one,” Kiryu conceded, as he took a nice sip of beer. “Wow, this beer’s amazing!”

On the other hand, the other masters were cheerfully wolfing down Candace’s baked loaves, and a wide assortment of cakes that had been ever-so-kindly prepared for them. Even Bunyan was treated to a special pile of pancakes.

However, problems began to occur as masters started to arm wrestle over who’d get the biggest slice of cake. Despite this, Quin defeated every single challenger as swiftly as possible.

“I love cake,” She exclaimed, as she took a glorious slice. Nobody could defeat her!!

‘I’m so damn jealous...’ Seihai sighed, as they settled into a small slice. After that, things went even more nuts when playing some of Val’s tabletop RPGS. Even though magic was meant to be banned when playing games, that certainly didn’t stop anybody!

By the ends of things, the canteen was bustling with fun; laughter; and a massive pile of cards.

Once Seihai saw all of the masters off, they chortled. ‘That was a lot of fun...’

They hoped that they’d all come back again soon.

Lol it’s finished. Sadly, I couldn’t go into detail about the tea time events as there were so many visitors! well hope u enjoyed. XD

List Of Mastersonas Included (tags):

@hasabbydoneanythingwrong @hasishtardoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @hasnightingaledoneanythingwrong @haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong @havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong @hasbbdoneanythingwrong@hasnobbudoneanythingwrong

[hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong]

The Flame-Soaked City, Part 2

Mash, Jeanne (not the servant), Cris, and Kat's trek through Fuyuki continues! Mash has to come to terms with her new powers, while The master trio are learning how to fly blind. How will they react when their little journey gets a lot more crowded? Also, we get sidetracked and spend way too much time justifying the existence of CEs in-universe!

Part 1 here Part 3 here

(Note: anything <between triangle brackets> is being said mentally between the masters.)

Mash and Dr. Romani talked for a bit more about Mash's new condition as a pseudoservant. Before he was cut off by interference, he gave us coordinates for a leypoint, a source of magical energy that could give us a more stable connection. The heat was awful, but Mash's spirit origin was obvious enough that we could follow her footsteps to avoid the worst of the debris in our path.

Those things in the debris were nightmares, though. Mash could flatten them easily, but they were difficult to pick out in the haze, and we were already losing blood from our head wound.

As we neared the leyline’s focal point, I finally felt a source of magical energy that was different from all the skeletons that searched through the wreckage of the city.

Jeanne: Mash, is that... a human? Over there!

Mash: You're right, senpai! That's... the director!

Cris: <<Aw crap.>>

Kat: <Come on, don't be like that! The more people we find out here the better!>

Cris: <<Yeah, but she's had it out for us ever since Jeanne zoned out in the middle of her speech.>>

Jeanne: <<<I did not "zone out", you two were distracting me! How do you expect me to carry on two conversations at once?>>>

Cris: <<I don't know, but you can get plenty of practice right now.>>

Olga Marie: Well? What do you have to say for yourself?

Jeanne: Yes?

Olga Marie:...

Jeanne: ...No?

Jeanne: What are we talking about?

Olga Marie: How on EARTH did someone like you make it into Chaldea? The second it's possible, we're sending you back. We don't need fools on the front lines, especially not injured ones.

Cris: <<Smooth.>>

Jeanne: Oh, will you just-

Olga Marie: What was that?

Jeanne: ...Will you just... stay here, while I check on Mash's progress with the summoning circle?

Olga Marie: Well? Don't just stand there then, get on it!

Kat: <That was close.>

Jeanne: <<<As much as I know you would love to argue with her, Director Animusphere has a point, Cris. We're barely holding on as is.>>>

Cris: <<Oh come on! The only thing here is a bunch of skeletons, and Mash can flatten them in one punch! We're fine!>>

Jeanne: <<<Something is keeping these skeletons together, and I'd rather not deal with that while I am fucking blind, Cris.>>>

Kat: <Hey, we've all been through a lot. Let's just see how Mash is doing.>

Mash: Oh, Senpai! Perfect timing, the circle is almost complete!

Jeanne: Director, we almost have contact!

Energy flowed through Mash's shield and into the sigils surrounding it. Soon enough, Doctor Romani was with us again.

Romani: CQ, CQ. Hello, hello? Okay, the connection's back! Mash, Hannah, it's wonderful to see you again!

None of us actually went by our legal name, but it is less of a hassle than explaining the real situation, so we kept our mouth shut.

Romani: Sorry! I mean, er-

Olga Marie: Doctor Romani? Why are you running communications? Where's Lev? Put him on!

Romani: Director, you're alive? Wha-

Olga Marie: Of course I am! Now where's Lev? Why is a medic on the comms line?

Romani: I know I'm not cut out for the job, but there's nobody else.

Jeanne: What... what do you mean by that?

Romani: Currently, the surviving full time staff of Chaldea is less than twenty people. I'm the highest ranking survivor. Lev was supervising from the command room, where the blast was the strongest. There's no way he could have survived that.

Olga Marie: ...No...

Romani: All other the master candidates are in critical condition. We might be able to save a couple, but-

Olga Marie: Don't be ridiculous! Cryopreserve them immediately! We can worry about reviving them later.

Romani: Ah! Of course! I almost forgot they had that!

After putting the other masters in cryopreservation, Romani continued with his report. Chaldea's systems were crippled, and rayshifting out currently wasn't an option. Their comms were also cut off from the outside world.

Olga Marie: Very well. Romani! Continue with the repairs. In the meantime, Hannah, Mash, and I will investigate the town. If we came back empty handed the Clocktower would have my head.

Romani: Right away, Director!

The connection cut off, and the director focused on us.

Olga Marie: Unfortunately Hannah, you're the closest thing we have to a master at hand, so we'll just have to see what you can get.

Jeanne: What do you mean?

Olga Marie: Do I really have to spell it out for you? We're at a summoning circle! Summon another servant! Chaldeas was designed to power the contracts of dozens of masters, even in this state it can handle whatever dreck you can scrounge up.

Cris: Please. I'll have you know I was brought here because I have the compatibility of three masters!

Kat: <Definitely helps that we ARE three masters. Now hurry up! I wanna summon a berserker!>

Jeanne: <<<You do NOT.>>>

Olga Marie: Just try to get ONE other servant for now. Overconfidence won't help us any.

Mash and Olga prepared some materials for the ritual, and then I repeated a chant Olga fed to us. And then...

A deluge of information forced its way into our mind. Bones scattered in a desert. The tranquility of sunrise. The feeling of chains tying us down. The agony of warfare. ...A white squirrel? Each one forced its way in haphazardly, shoving the last one out of the way.

Cris: <<Hey, I think I got something solid!>>

Kat: <Me too!>

Jeanne: <<<I... kind of?>>>

The first thing I noticed once reality faded back in were the gems littering the ground around us. Even brushing against one of them brought back the flash of feeling from before, but not quite as overpowering.

Cris: <<Jeanne? Stop playing with rocks. We're surrounded.>>

The first thing Cris noticed was the dozens of spirit origins now surrounding us. Before panic could set in, one of them spoke up.

???: Now that you have command over the army of shadows, victory is at hand. You can rest easy now, Master. We are the Hundred Personas, Assassin class.

Olga Marie: What did you do, Hannah? I said one servant, not one hundred! How do you expect to control all of them?

Jeanne: I think they're a package deal, Director. Their spirit origins are almost identical.

Jeanne: We're glad to have all of you. Thank you for answering our summons.

Each one of the servants standing before us had only the most minute of differences in their spirit origin. I'm sure if you overlayed them all they'd form the original whole. So many bodies in a single graph... fascinating...

Kat: <Um, Jeanne? You can geek out about your servant later, there's a couple others in the crowd.>

Two new servants in the crowd stood out. The smaller one approached first. Her spirit origin seemed very similar to Mash's- this one was definitely a knight class! Judging by our connection, they must be Kat's servant.

???:It is nice to meet you, Master. Since I am still in training, please call me Saber Lily. I look forward to working with you in the years to come.

"Saber Lily" was an odd name, but we knew enough about people not to pry.

Jeanne: <<<Do you two know any lily-themed swordswomen?>>>

Cris: <<Of course, I totally paid attention in our History class. Who do you think it is, Kat?>>

Kat: <The biggest lily in history is that french one... Ahah! It's d'Eon, it's gotta be! I hear she's pretty! Gah, now I hope Cris got a caster, I want our eyes healed already!>

Jeanne: Thank you for coming. I hope this won't take that long, but I look forward to our time together as well.

That just left the servant Cris pulled, which was... oh no.

As the mountain of a servant stomped towards us, their spirit origin spoke volumes about them. Its fault lines and twists showed the unmistakeable marks of being forced into the berserker class.

It stopped inches from our face.

???: I am Berserker Spartacus. Sorry to ask this, but are you a tyrant?

[aylinnworld]

Musings about introduction of series: The Case Study of Vanitas episode 11, Mo Dao Zu Shi, Akatsuki no Yona

I liked the idea that Jeanne went on a date with Vanitas in hope of making him despise her. I guess it may not work this way.

As for the show I have some predictions:

Noe having an ability to see someone past and Vanitas whose past is mysterious, these two pieces of puzzles just fit too well-together not to be used. I am waiting for the moment Noe will suck Vanita’s blood and see his past. Seeing how his past is kept mysterious, I expect it to happen rather later than earlier. And I doubt that Vanitas will just happily and openly share his past and feelings with Noe.

Some things I do not like that much.

None of the female characters feel interesting to me. They are sure physically badass, but in terms of personality, they don’t feel interesting.

Also I have been thinking how the beginning of Vanitas compares to other stories and this are my thoughts:

Too heavy world-building at the beginning of the story. I am not a fan of stories where introduction focuses heavily on world-building at the beginning. I do not care about world-building that much. I would rather prefer that the story at the beginning aims at making me emotionally invested in characters, which is what I liked about first episodes of series such as Akatsuki no Yona. It made a good job at making audience feel for Yona - hitting hard with the sense of betrayal, crushed hopes, heart-wrenching conflict between friends, etc. 

Compering to Mo Dao Zu Shi, it was interesting to see in Mo Dao Zu Shi some dude resurrect from the dead some other dude who was told to be an infamous evil dude. The first answer that he is only there to kill some bullies did not felt satisfying and indeed by episode two Wei Wuxian notices that ‘First the forbidden ritual, and now the sinister arm... guess this isn’t that simple’ I was like ‘yes, yes, yes, I am curious too if there is something more behind it’. Wei Wuxian thinking felt relatable and struck a chord with me. The issue with the first season of MDZS I have is that after making me interested in who and why brought back from the dead the main character, it started answering how he became the Yiling Patriarch, which felt off to me. The novel doesn’t do it, so it felt more consistent.

I came to conclusion that my personal preference is: more focus on characters at the beginning > more focus on world-building at the beginning. 

Once I feel for a character and care for them, I will be far more willing to listen to whatever info dump about the world the author has in store.

I kept watching Vanitas or rather returned to watching weeks later after stopping on episode 3, because this story was made by the author of Pandora Hearts. I don’t regret it, but I feel the earliest episodes are lacking. 

It was fun to think why Vanitas made me properly interested later than others stories, which made me more emotionally invested in earlier episodes. 

[orleans-jester]

After Bastien leaves.

Longstory short: No one home; Agnes goes to the old caravan camp; gets her fortune told; drinks weird tea; has a very odd dream; goes home; Pierre is grumpy that she didn’t turn up second day of school; but she comes back on the third.

There would be no one home. Agnes had figured that much, once she remembered what day that it was. First day of school usually meant going out for dinner. That felt like something Pierre would remind their mother of, get a nice meal after what was probably a long day. Felt even longer for Agnes. She went up to her room, and sat down on the bed. It was so unfamiliar. The patterns that lined the walls were nice though. It looked nicer than all of the different things she had on her old wall. Probably for the best those got destroyed. There was no more Summer. No more River. No more dad. Barely a mother. Fig was probably on the fence. No idea if she even talked to Wulf anymore.

She’d drop her dirty bag onto the floor and would trace some of the painted lines with her fingers. The pattern of her favorite dress over this one wall. The flowers and all. It looked really really good. Until her fingers stopped when something interrupted the pattern. An acorn. Didn’t take a genius to know what that meant. She tapped against it with her index finger twice - three times. She couldn’t handle it. It was bringing on that feeling of anxiety again. She started to go through her desk, through the different drawers. The closet. Pulled down a couple of shoeboxes to keep them empty. Nothing. There was no photos, no postcards, nothing of the sort that she could use to cover it up. She didn’t even have a poster. But she did have sticky notes, so she’d cover the space with the bright yellow. It was an eyesore but it would have to do until she thought of something better.

She’d sit on her bed for a couple of minutes, eyes closed, deep breath in and then deep breath out. Trying to gain control of herself. Control of her situation. What even was her situation. What the hell was she. Where was she. How was she? And most importantly, who was she? There was still one person who might be able to tell her. Someone else she had heard stories about growing up, and had even met a couple of times.

She thought about showering first, but decided against it. She’d have one to wash off the grime, and then a long bathtub after to re-center herself. No, she’d just pick a different sweater out of her closet, this one also in a darker color, would close her bedroom door behind her like she had never been there, and would step out again, locking the door behind her, keeping a light or two on to warm off burglars, the house silent, alarm back on. The password was the same as it was at the old house to get through the gate. That made things easy for her forgetful mind.

Bastien might have denied her the long walk home, but there was another one that she could take. And it was somewhere that she felt moderately safe. Through the city, through to a small are by a graveyard where caravans had been sitting for so long, the wheels had broken from the weight and disuse, making the bulk sink down towards the ground. There was one that still had purple peeling paint. Her papa’s. But there was also one with an old woman and a little girl sitting on the front stoop, looking up at the stars.

“Madame Antoinette?” She would venture, pulling down the hood of her sweater. The old woman looked up and smiled, showing multiple missing teeth in her mouth. The little girl was looking up at her too, big blue eyes like jewels sparkling against the fire in the middle of the camp.

“Agnes,” The old woman said, pulling the little girl onto her lap and patted the empty seat. “I knew you would be coming back one of these days.”

“Of course you did,” Agnes would smile at the old fortune teller. The little girl looked nothing like the old woman. Most likely a street child that she had taken in. Was teaching the trade. “I’m feeling lost, Madame. I need guidance. I need... to know what I have to do, what I’m here to do.”

“What will you pay me?”

“I forgot to bring anything, I umm-”

“You will bring me a necklace at Abraham’s wedding. Real stone. None of that cheap shit.”

“Of course, yes, I can do that,” Agnes would nod enthusiastically.

“Or else I curse the marriage and your mother will turn into an old hag, like me.”

“That sounds only fair,” Agnes said, trying to take that seriously but it was difficult. The woman gave her the eye and then held her hand out, requesting Agnes’s. The girl who usually had soft hands due to many different expensive handcreams, gave hers over. They were rougher than usual. Her nails were full of hangnails and split skin. They hadn’t been painted in days. Her palms themselves were feeling a little rough, a little calloused from working more with them to make where they had been a home. Nevertheless, the woman didn’t give any reaction to it, just started to run her fingers through the lines in Agnes’s palms. Went over them a couple of times as if making sure of something. The only sounds were from the other caravans and the crackling fire which never went out. It was like the flame of hope for the people in this camp. It went out, they left. It’s the same fire that was burning when Kuzco and Clopin had passed through here, getting Clopin’s things before returning to the inn. They fed it and kept it safe.

She’d finally speak, her voice just enough for Agnes to hear.

“You don’t walk the line between different worlds, you weave through them. Many of them. You are a sparrow in a swallow’s nest. The moment you believe you are safe the swallows will peck you to death. You mourn for lives lost to you, but they were never your life to begin with. Restore your natural path, Miss Agnes, or it will be impossible to find it again.”

That was heavy. It gave Agnes a lot to think about. She’d sit there silently, her hand still outstretched. The old woman set it back down on Agnes’s own knee. “Sa fait réfléchir .. how about a cup of tea before you go home?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Agnes said, her mind somewhere else. Thinking about those words. Thinking about the consequences of her actions in a way that she had never thought of before.

“Jeanne, fetch the tea.” The old woman would say. The little girl climbed off of her lap and went inside, leaving just the two to feel the breeze coming through the night. “It will be a cold winter for New Orleans,” She’d add. “Harsh winds are coming our way. Don’t believe that because we are in the south, we will be safe from them.”

“I’ll buy a new coat,” Agnes said, still stuck inside of her head, those words going in one ear and out the other. She was a sparrow. The swallow’s nest had been the Laveaus. It had also been Bastien. Perhaps he had saved her by forcing her to go home tonight. Before she knew it, a chipped mug was placed into her hand. It smelled of nettles. Of late Spring rather than Summer. It was a murky brown. Leaves floated on the top.

“Drink, it will help,” The old woman urged. So Agnes did. She’d drink, and the taste would bring her back to reality. It was ... earthy. Like they literally just added water to some dirt that they found on the ground. “All of it,” The woman would say, and Agnes could not say no to that. So she’d drink it.

It tasted horrible. But she had been taught to be a proper guest. Always accept all of what you are being given. Waste not, want not. Even if it was something as horrible as this tea. She had the feeling it really was just some sort of leave picked up around the area.

The three of them would sit there and enjoy the night. That was until Agnes noticed that the fire seemed to be dancing rather than just flickering. She could hear something, some kind of music in her head. It was like a drumming sound. It matched her heart beat perfectly. She even tapped her fingers against her knee to the rhythm. The old woman was smiling again and then she seemed to disappear. Muffled noises of shouting. She stood up, feeling energetic despite the fact that she had been feeling weak the last couple of days. Her body wasn’t used to running on so little fuel. But she felt good. Sprightly.

She’d walk towards the fire, but it started to get further and further away. The cold winds that she had been warned about were reaching her now, and she’d feel that chill on her arm. She’d walk faster, swinging her arms, lifting her legs to try to get her body heat higher with exercise. It started to feel wet. It started to feel COLD. Not cool. Not even New Orleans cold. But the cold that she remembered on the balcony of the hotel in New York many Christmas’s ago. Snow even started to fall. The area around her started to white-out entirely. Mounds grew beneath her feet. Her sneakers weren’t equipped to deal with that. She was sliding around. Her energy was still up somehow, getting her going forward and forward.

Eventually she started to see something. A smudge of black. She attempted to run rather than walk, but kept slipping on the snowhills that were quickly gathering. A little house. Maybe a cabin. The door handle was right there within reach. She grabbed it. Turned it. Pushed herself inside and then closed the door against the growing blizzard that was out there. But - the inside did not look like a cabin at all. It looked like a hospital waiting room.

Patients were looking up at her. She was no doctor. She was not hurt. But something about being here felt right. She’d walk through it, up to the desk where a pretty dark girl was sitting. “Afternoon Dr. Renault, are you ready for your patients?”

“I- I’m a Doctor?” Agnes asked. She didn’t feel like one. “I’m not qualified to be called that, I-”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” The dark haired nurse would stand up. Would take Agnes’s arm and lead her down the hallway. She looked behind her to the patients who had continued on with their waiting activities. Playing on phones. Crosswords. Books. Even eating McDonalds. “Your first patient is right behind that curtain there. Better hurry, you know how long waiting times are.”

And left her side. It took until she was leaving that Agnes realized that it was the singer Ciara who had brought her here. Now that was weird. But she’d approach the curtain and would pull it to the side to see her father sitting there, looking as healthy as his old horse Achilles had in his prime. His hair was longer, his smile was brighter, his eyes were keen and glowing. “Dad!” She’d say, rushing up to him and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh my god, you’re here, you’re my first patient. Oh my god, I missed you.” She almost believed she could smell his old cologne. She hugged him enough as a little girl to know what it had smelt like.

“My little girl,” Phoebus would smile, hugging her back in return. He held her in place, it was - it was hard to back away from it. “You always used to play Doctor. Remember when I bought you that pretend kit? You’d wear that stethoscope for hours, until your ears hurt and you still wouldn’t take them off.”

Agnes laughed against her father, giving him another squeeze since he was in a huggy mood. “I remember.”

“If only you had stayed that little girl,” He sighed. “I’ll remember those times forever. But here you are instead. So special. Like ... like treasure.”

That last word had put chills up her spine. She tried to let go. She tried to back up but her father’s hold was so strong... she had to use her powers, bring up the barrier to make him back away from her, and then she realized that it hadn’t been her father at all. The smell was gone. Instead, what she faced was what looked like Chip, sounded like Chip, but that face - a massive part of it was missing, jaw exposed. Maggots. He looked of death. “Do you know what happens to treasure? It gets buried. Buried, buried, buried...”

Agnes stumbled back and closed the curtain as quickly as she could, and fell back against the ground. She could feel the pain against her ass as she did so. She backed up in a sort of crab walk, tried to get back to her feet and would try to go back the way that she came -

Only to find that the hallway had brought her to her brother’s room. The one at the old house that she could remember, since she hadn’t stepped foot into the one at the new house. So many colors. Pierre was standing there in her bathrobe, silk, short, just barely covering his bits. He had a hairbrush in his hand and was singing, dancing around. “Cause you’re hot then you’re cold, you’re yes then you’re no,” He’d turn around, wink at Agnes over his shoulder and then would approach, taking hold of her hand while continuing to sing into the brush. He gave her a twirl. “You’re in then you’re out, you’re up then you’re down, you’re wrong when it’s right, it’s black and it’s white-”

“Pierre,” Agnes said, trying to let go of his hand but he’d throw the brush over his shoulder. It landed on the bed. He’d take her hand and put an arm around her waist like it was some sort of waltz. She was confused but - she was laughing.

“You don’t really want to stay, no! But you really don’t want to go, no, you’re hot then you’re cold, you’re yes then you’re no,” He’d go back into the chorus, jumping around and dancing until she gave in. But then he’d give her another spin, but let go of her this time. Someone else caught her this time around.

Bastien. The longer, stringier hair was a dead giveaway. She gasped as she looked up into his face. It wasn’t dead, not like Chip. But there was a gauntness to it that there wasn’t the last time that she had seen it. He looked like illness itself. Pestilence as a person. Leper-like. “Bastien, are you okay?” She’d say, holding onto him, looking at his face, looking at those pale lips, a flash of black gums. “Please, please come with me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll-”

“You think you need me. But I don’t need anybody. Even you.” Bastien said. A tongue came out of his mouth. Long. Slimy. Grey. Riddled with diseases. It licked at her face. She was forced to let go. Forced to back up again. She fell. But she didn’t hit any ground this time.

Instead, her eyes opened and she found herself in a strange bed, between the old woman that she had gone to the night before, and the little girl whose eyes were still wide open. She was facing the little girl. They looked at each other and the dream started to fade quickly from Agnes’s mind, leaving just some odd impressions that something had happened. She felt drowsy. Sunshine was coming through one of the windows. The little girl reached up and pressed her thumb almost painfully into Agnes’s forehead, causing her to groan. That didn’t feel so good.

She’d lay there for another couple of minutes, trying to get her bearings, trying to feel more awake, blinking against the light. She knew where she was. She was in Madame Antoinette’s caravan, with the little girl. She must have dozed off after the tea. Then she remembered when it was. Shit. She was definitely late for school! She’d sit up so fast, her head would hurt and she would only see black for a couple of seconds. She scooched out, looking around and found her shoes on the floor among the old woman’s and the little girls. She pulled them on, hopping around, trying to find some sort of clock but she couldn’t find anything. She thought about waking up the old woman, seeing the little girl sitting up on the bed too, but she was snoring. Out of it. “Tell her thank you, and sorry for staying?”

The little girl nodded and held up her hand and gave her a wave goodbye.

Agnes didn’t know much about sun positioning and such. But it felt like it was rather late into the day. It seemed more or less centered up in the sky, which made it -  maybe noon? Something like that? Too late for school, and she was wearing her old clothes anyway. She needed that shower. That bath. If she skipped just one day, and it was just the second day, she should be alright, shouldn’t she? She hoped so. She headed in the opposite direction of Nola high, heading home instead.

Esmeralda was there. She was the only one. She didn’t say a word, just walked up to Agnes and wrapped her arms around her in a big hug, holding her close, giving her a big squeeze. Agnes hugged back, though there was some sort of deja vu feeling. There had been a lot of hugging lately with Bastien, and with Pierre, so maybe it was something like that.

“I’m home,” Agnes would say into her mother’s chest, the woman being bustier and taller than her.

“Good, my baby is right where she should be,” Esmeralda said, kissing the top of her head repeatedly.

-

Pierre was pissed. He rode his longboard to school early. He didn’t pick up flowers for Zero this time, just picked him up some cake from the restaurant that they were at before. But he wasn’t in a very celebratory mood this time around. Agnes wasn’t here. She had said that she would be there. Said she would come early to talk to him about what she and Bastien talked about. But she didn’t show up. He even waited outside of her classroom until the final bell rang for the first class. No show. He trudged back to his own classroom, feeling like he had smoke coming out of his ears. He was hurt again. He was disappointed. He could probably deal with her choosing Bastien over him if she had the goddamn balls to tell him. The bad mood would last through most of the day. Even at lunch, when he’d present the treat to Zero, his smiles were fake. He’d explain it to Zero. “Guess she made her choice,” He said, trying to play it off with a shrug. But goddamnit, he cared. He cared so much.

Until the period after lunch, in which he’d get a text from his mother. ‘She’s back home. Dallas loves her already.’

That just brightened him all the way up. If his last period class wasn’t the best one, Drama with Zero, then he would have run on home, skipping those classes. He had definitely brightened up though and would ride his longboard home, whistling happy. He got his sister back, he got his sister back. Course he thought it was all because of him. Cause he got through to her. No other reason than that.

-

The third day of school, Agnes would indeed be there, walking alongside her brother. Freshly showered. Touch of makeup. Purple turtleneck, green pleather shirt, black tights. Colorful. The way that she used to be. Every time she looked at her brother she felt some weird sense of having spoken to him in another world but that just sounded weird. Though she looked much more put together now than she did on the first day, healthier too since she had a real meal the night before and a real breakfast, not just protein bars, she still was feeling broken and hurt deep inside. She missed Bastien. She had slept in his bed the night before. She wasn’t quite ready to be alone in her own yet. But she was focused on what she hoped was the proper path that Antoinette was talking about. She might be feeling a lot of overwhelming things, but it was better to feel than to be pecked to death from entering the wrong nest.

[sinningismywinning]

Do As You Please - 3

   You’ve needed to change the locks on your bedroom door for awhile now. Hearing your door creak open, shot your eyes wide. For a moment you were dazed, you forgot about the night before. Yet it all came flooding back as you peaked towards your door. The blood flowing in your head came back as well, but this time with a vengeance. Your temples started to pound.

   “Get the fuck up!” Your brother had such a way with words. Alfie was your step-brother, turned full. Your mother was absent in your life. Your father held back on speaking about her, and the only good things he’d say was that you held her beauty, and her heart.

   Alfie had been in your life since you were 6, and he was 12. His father was an adulterer and abandoned his family at a young age. Luckily, your father stepped in to fill the role. Growing up you would always ask what the difference was between a step sibling, and a full one. Your father would condescendingly say, “A step sibling can’t take your assets.” Smart-ass. That explains how you turned out. 

   When Alfie’s mother died of the flu, your father fully took him in. Helped him open up his own bakery in-fact. That was the start of his demise into organized crime. You tried your hardest to stay out of it, and to not dabble with his empire. He was always one of your strongest support systems.

   Once you both became adults, and he clearly had enough money for himself, your paths had split. But more recent than not, Alfie popped back up. He needed a place to stay. Margate was no longer safe for him. It took you a while to let him stay with you. He knew better than to go to you, if he figured it weren’t safe. You shared a different last name, and he never mentioned you, or any family, to his associates. Not to mention, he was Jewish, and you tried to act as Catholic as you could. People didn’t take too kindly to atheists. It meant that those without faith, had nothing to fear.

      It was hard to grow accustomed to living with your brother again. You had forgotten how messy he was, as well as the lack of care he had for himself. Since he couldn’t leave the house, he was always eager for you to come home. He would get antsy being locked inside all day. 

    “You’re gonna be late for work!” He always came into your room unannounced. “Get the fuck up!” He repeated, hitting your bed with his cane. You groaned with annoyance. He was also a fantastic alarm clock. “I’m getting up you bloke.” You grumbled.

   “Who brought you home last night?” Most people found it hard to understand him. His voice was heavy and his accent was thicker than others. You knew that it would be best to not lie to him. If you said that you walked home by yourself, he’d restrict you going out. Despite living in your house, he whipped your ass back into shape.

   “A friend from the bar,” you got out of bed and rubbed your eyes. “Obviously it was a fuckin’ friend, otherwise why’d they walk you home? I asked about WHO, walked you home.” You could feel your eyes roll out of your head. You turned from him, and grabbed a dress from your closet. “Didn’t catch his name,” you sighed with pursed lips. If there was one thing Alfie wasn’t good at, it was catching you in a lie. No one could.

   You felt his eyes burning a hole through your back. “Yeah.. right,” He shook his head, not quite sure how to feel about a man walking you home. “I made you a cup, it’s in the kitchen.” You could tell which child was raised by a mom, and which was raised by a single dad. Alfie had a very domestic personality, despite never admitting it. “Thank you,” Surprisingly enough, he didn’t question you further. You knew that would change when you came home from work.

   He would sit in the house and stew over small, minuscule things. He’d send himself into a rage, a panic, or even a frenzy. He was manic at times. He left your room, and closed the door behind him. You paced your thoughts, but only momentarily. ‘Who really walked me home?’ You didn’t know much about Thomas Shelby. You found yourself beguiled. It was what it was. The man was an enigma. You supposed that your curiosity would stay as such. A curiosity.

   You changed, and readied yourself for the day. You rolled up the sleeves of your white blouse, and put on your skirt. You weren’t particular for putting effort into work-clothes. 

   Walking out of your room and into the small, dainty kitchen, Alfie sat reading a daily-paper. You picked up your coffee, knowing that you wouldn’t have time to drink it on the way to work. “Doesn’t sit well with me, that a stranger took you home,” he mumbled, glancing up at you through his glasses. Your eyes met his and all you could do was shrug. You figured that it would be best to simply dismiss him. “Need anything from the market today?” You already knew what he needed. Psoriasis cream. You’d be getting it anyways, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

   “Just uh...” he huffed into thought. “My medicine, and yeast for bread. I’ll make dinner tonight.” A small smile made its way onto your face. Despite your bickering, and petty remarks, you loved Alfie. That went without saying.

   You also knew he would kill for you. “I’ll be home some time after twelve, yeah?” You said quickly rinsing your cup. He hummed in response, not looking away from the paper. 

   “Bye old-man,” you beckoned, and kissed the side of his head. “Bye wench,” was the last remark you heard before leaving your home. He worried about you, he did. But he knew you were able to hold your own. Knowing that you carried a knife whenever you went out, eased his mind. Only thing was, he wasn’t sure if you’d be man enough to stab someone.

   The walk to work was short. Traffic on the streets was little to none. Some days you’d have moments of quietness, as the drunkards slept in. Small Heath was a dainty little town, but damn, could it get loud if it wanted to.

   You were on time for work. You clocked yourself in, and went over to your station. Being a seamstress came easy. It gave you something to do, and you were able to perfect making your own clothes. In fact, one time you down-sized a pair of Alfies pants in order to fit you. After all, it wasn’t comfortable tending to a garden in layers of thick skirt fabric.

   You kept to yourself, offering polite conversation when others sought it out. Most of the people who came into the shop were down-right snobby. Boasting about wanting dresses made from the silk of a worm, and others demanding a suit to be tailored with only the finest suede. 

   It wasn’t lady-like to be rude, and it wasn’t professional to insult customers. So everyday, through a forced smile, you tried your hardest to not be unkind. Just like clock-work, there she was again. Right over your shoulder like last time. You were sewing beads onto the dress, of a derby-owners wife. 

   Your head seamstress had never taken a liking to you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t say the same. You were talented at the craft, but did things the unconventional way. She was more of a, by-the-book, type of woman.

   Jeanne Tousaint was a powerhouse of a seamstress. Her reputation reached far and wide. When the shop wasn’t doing so good, the owners cut everyone’s pay in order to afford her services. It was suppose to be a temporary workshop. Sadly, she’s still here.

   “Get the seam-ripper, your bead wasn’t on par with the others,” She spoke above you. “It is on par,” was all you could mumble back, refusing to look up from the dress. “I beg your pardon?” Then beg. “When she wears the dress, it’ll fall in place with the others. Look,” you said holding up the fabric as the beads flowed down in unison. 

   She ignored your correction. “Speak to me with a tone like that again, and I’ll dock your pay,” You were growing tired. She had only been put in-charge of you for three months, yet acted as if she’d birthed you. “You’ve already docked my pay,” You reminded with a false smile. 

   Before she could belittle you once more, the bell that hung on the door chimed. Thank god. While this job brought you decent pay, you also knew Alfie was a cheap bastard who hoarded his money. The only reason you haven’t fully gotten yourself fired was because you knew he’d eternally give you shit for it.

   She walked away to kindly greet a group of men. You didn’t care to look up from your post. The pro’s and con’s of having your job terminated, were being evaluated in your head. The pro is, happiness. The con is, Alfie kicking your ass and being stingy with his money to the point where- “Excuse me miss,” you looked up at an unfamiliar face.

   “Was wonderin’ if you could take up my measurements,” A man with a plain face said through a slick smile. His hands were jammed into his pockets, and he was wearing a god-awful cap. Tacky.

   Now what you wanted to say was, ‘Can’t you see I’m busy? There are other workers who can measure you.’ But what actually came out was a hesitated “Of course sir,” followed by yet another, false perception of happiness.

   Standing up from your station, you noticed a man at the front of the shop. His back was turned towards you, as he looked through the window. You had to look again. You knew him for some odd reason. He turned from the window, to face you. That’s when it clicked. Arthur Shelby.

   You must have had a bewildered look on your face. “Cat got your tongue, love?” The man spoke out. “That’s enough John,” Tom said walking up behind him. 

                                                         Fuck.

   “I believe you owe me a tailored shirt,” Thomas said stepping to the side of his brother. Being sober, he was more attractive than what you had remembered. What a sly dog. He set this up. You told him where you worked, and he popped in to see you.

   You were a bit puzzled by his appearance. “This is the one who spilled the drink?” John eyed you up and down. If you weren’t at work you’d tell him to keep his eyes in his head. “Aye,” Tom responded. They both kept their gaze on you. Who the fuck was this? A best-friend? God, if you were going to get fired, it’d be on your own terms. 

   The head seamstress was more than happy to have the boys in the shop. “Anything you need, on the house,” you heard her boast to Arthur. The prime fucking minister would never get anything free from this woman. What made them so special?

   Clearing your throat, you managed to speak. “I’ll be more than happy to tailor a shirt for you, I just have to take your friends measurements,” You nodded politely.

“My brothers measurements, and he can wait.” Dear god there’s more than two.

   His voice had an edge to it. You didn’t know if it was his demeanor, or his eyes that made you intimidated.   

   “Uh yes, pardon my mistake.” You always had to be kind. “Look at you, being a doll, aye?” He tilted his chin up with amusement. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from firing back. John picked up on the exchange, and clasped his brothers shoulder. He whispered something unintelligible into his ear, before walking off to join with Arthur.

   This whole exchange made you more than uncomfortable. “And look at you, showing up to my job,” you said narrowly shaking your head. You grabbed a chart from your desk, as well as a tape measure. That almost-missed smile graced his lips again.

   There was something dark to him, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to find out. “Doesn’t hurt to pay a visit,” he redeemed. “It is a bit odd though,” you shot back. There was that spark that made him show up for more. He loved banter. You made your way towards one of the fitting rooms, and suggested with your head, for him to follow.

   “Stand up here,” you gestured to a small lift in the floor. Your hands were unsteady as you unrolled your measuring tape. He picked up on it and eyed your nimble hands. He was reading you like a book. Pages open, and bare.

  “You look beautiful in blue,” He knew how to charm a woman. Only problem was, you didn’t act like a conventional woman. As much as you hated to admit, your nerves spiked a bit. You noticed your hands slightly trembling. “That’s what they tell me,” you said dismissing his efforts.

   Alfie would calm your anxieties better than anyone. Small inconveniences would make you shake, send you into a panic. For someone who was so head strong and exuberant, most things made you nervous. You had been that way for as long as you could remember.

   But the presence of a man was a new trigger. One you didn’t know that you had. 

   The side of his lip curled. His eyes were never expressive. “As they should.” He spoke back with a calming smile. “I do have to warn you, I’ll be in your personal space,” you disclaimed. 

   “I was hoping for that.” Fuck. Calm down.

   You shook your head trying to play it off as meaningless banter. He was only running his mouth. He couldn’t have viewed you that way, right? “Arms up, please,” you gently commanded. He obliged.

   He stared straight ahead at the green wallpaper of the fitting room. His eyes being on something other than you, eased your tension. You started measuring his arms, starting from his inner bicep, to his wrist. You avoided his eyes.

   You moved to his center, and held up the measuring tape, inferring that you had to measure his chest. “May I?” You always had to ask as policy.

   “I don’t bite,” his eyes met yours and he looked away once more. You huffed through your nose and got closer to wrap the tape around his mid-section. He was toned. Smelled like cigarettes and pine. You were so occupied with his larger frame, his words cut like glass. “Unless you want me to.”

   You looked up at him, his arms were still out and extended. He was much taller than you, but then again, you weren’t average for your height. His eyes met yours and you felt your hands threatening to shake again.

   He maintained the eye-contact. “Are you done with my measurements?” His voice was lower than usual. He glanced down to your lips. You only stood a few inches apart. “Uh, hm-” You cleared your throat, “Just about, Mr. Shelby.” you nodded taking a step back.

   He made you nervous and he was seeing that now. He watched you pick up your chart, and write his numbers down. “Tommy, call me Tommy.” He corrected. Once again, you nodded, looking at anything but him. 

   Your fingers gave away your inner panic, as you didn’t know how to assess the situation. He understood what anxiety was like. He dealt with it every night before bed, and often during sleep. That’s what caused the man to drink. After France, he turned to alcohol and hallucinogens. 

   “I don’t intend on making you nervous.” Did he really call out to you like that? “Sorry, it’s not you.” Yes it was. “I just shake sometimes. Doctors can’t figure it out,” you laughed besides yourself with nerves.

   He licked his lips, about to speak. He decided it best to refrain from it. He didn’t think you got much attention from men. Possibly a few boyfriends who reminded you of your beauty and wittiness, but afterwards probably made you think that you weren’t anything special. His own thoughts made him momentarily frown.

   “You can step down now,” you nodded. He did as ordered. “Say, since my pub is so scummy, and I know you’re a hard-ass,” wow. What a charmer he was. “How about you come work for me?” You didn’t expect that. “That’s very kind of you, but I-” “I’ll pay you more than what you make in this sweatshop.” His gruffness cut you off.

   He definitely had taken a liking to you. Despite his taunting, seeing your hands shake made him feel something more for you. Sympathy. You didn’t live on the nicest side of town, and you seemed too wound-up all the time.

   His offer was deadly serious. He shifted from your eyes, as if searching for a possible yes or no from you. You opened your mouth to speak, and nothing came out

   “The bar needs a woman’s-touch. Make it more homely,” He hummed in explanation. You pursed your lips at his remark. If he wanted to make something homely, the job should go to Afie, not you.

   You didn’t give it much thought. Jeannes words of your worthlessness rattled between your ears. You also thought back to your previous exchange. “Alright,” you said putting down your chart. “I’ll work for you.” He even seemed surprised. “When would I start? I have to put my notice in first,” you hesitated.

   “No you don’t,” he spoke gruffly. He put a hand on the small of your back and escorted you out of the fitting room. He had his other hand in his coat pocket. “You can start today,” he smiled boyishly. “But I have to quit first-” He was already handling that.

   It became clear to you, that he didn’t care about getting a new shirt. He cared about getting you.

   You both had walked out from the back of the shop. What were you doing? You didn’t know this man, or his reliability. Your mind was all over the place and you couldn’t help your timid hesitation. He walked up to your head seamstress.

   “Y/N’s done. Can’t have her working here anymore,” he explained hastily. You looked over to Arthur, who was shoving display ties into his coat pockets.

   “What do you mean she’s done?” Tommy went to explain why you’d no longer be working there, but you beat him to it. “It means, you can’t insult and belittle me anymore.” You chimed in. You felt the tightness of confrontation in your chest.

   He looked at you, trying to conceal his amusement and praise at your words. The head seamstress couldn’t help but gasp at your foul-mouth. You took out your punch card from the wall, and promptly flipped her off. Your adrenaline was surging. You knew that if you didn’t walk out, you’d end up lunging.

   John raised his brows. He barely knew you, but the shoe was starting to fit from the depictions Thomas and Arthur gave of you. Arthur decided it best to promptly push you out of the front door to exit. Thomas followed after, but the door closed slowly enough for you to hear John mutter, “by order of the Peaky Blinders,” to end her refusal of your termination.

   The moment you stepped onto the street, you could feel the cold wind dust your cheeks. Peaky Blinders? You figured it best to not question it. Your conscience bounced. What was your back-up plan? How would you get home to Alfie on time. You still had to go to the market.

   Thomas saw the expression on your face. He knew you were questioning it all. He wasn’t one to comfort anybody. “Did the right thing,” he said reassuringly. He placed a cigarette between his teeth. He was trying to not sound condescending.

   You looked at him in a way that could make him melt. He saw the expression on your face. He felt a knot in his throat, but choked it down with cigarette smoke. He didn’t like to make others worry. “I can force her to give you your job back,” He offered. John and Arthur walked alongside the both of you.

   “No.. I need this, it’ll be good for me.” Work at a pub? You didn’t know the first thing of being a tender. He had to of known that as well. You had time to learn, and there was always room for improvement. You forced yourself to think positively, even though you weren’t convinced of your own inhibitions.

   He inhaled, feeling the smoke warm his chest. There was a buzz in his head. A slight high from the nicotine. But possibly from the acknowledgement of him pulling this off. He didn’t think it through, which is why he was amazed it worked.

   Maybe you really were as wild as what he first presumed. “It’s a new beginning Y/N,” He spoke gently. “They usually come when you least expect it.”

   Now you really had to tell Alfie about the man who walked you home last night. 

    @captivatedbycillianmurphy @amirahiddleston @urbansaint @parochialism @mortalflower