#black hole my beloved i am hoping you will be safe or else we are FUCKED

[doggendoodle]

call out post for object shows. all this community has made me do since October 12th 2024 is make me cry and sob. im suing for emotional damages

[thecolordemon]

Haha hi :) I already asked but I wanna do it properly here. So, can I request headcanons abt the brothers reactions after knowing that MC had an incurable disease and they're gonna die soon? Thanks! 💕 (Btw I LOVE ur drawing)

Of course you can😊 It will be my first time writing Angst in the english language🤣😅 but I hope you'll enjoy it either way because who doesn't like to suffer a little bit? @flyme--tothemoon I added some shortstorys to the headcanon because...I couldn't help myself.

Request: Headcanons-How would the brothers react after knowing that MC had an incurable disease and that they're gonna die soon?🥺😭

⚠️Angst, Sadness, mentions of illness and death⚠️

*Lucifer*:

he noticed some sickenly sweet scent lingering over your small frame since you arrived in Devildom

but he couldn't put his finger on it

he never lived among humans how could he know?

he couldn't

and that's the whole point

he asks you about it during having dinner with all of the brothers

when your laughter dies down everything else turns quiet too

he knows immediately that something is wrong

"Did someone else noticed it too?" you ask without looking up

they nod

"Well...I guess...I have to tell you something."

Angsty/Sad Short story (other brothers below):

They all looked at you with big eyes. Filled with questions and worries because of the sad little smile that crept on your face and conquered your lips like a dark sky swallowing the sun. All of them noticed that sickenly sweet scent over your normal aroma. They just didn't thought that it would be such a big deal... "Well...I guess...I have to tell you something."

You cleared your throat and put down your cutlery. It was weird...I kind of felt like the day where you got your deadly diagnosis.

But this time you were the doctor.

And your beloved demons were the patients.

You knew that you couldn't hide it from them forever. Being here was like a daydream and it made you forget your disease a little bit more every day. Living with the demons brought so much new adventures in your life that the illness seemed so far away. It was like you left it at home. In the human world. Somewhere where it couldn't reach you. Throughout the day you never wasted a single thought about your approaching death. And why would you? Death was unavoidable. In the end everbody dies...Just for you it meant, that death would greet you a little bit sooner.

"Two years ago...I fainted. I was not feeling good for a...very, very long time after this. And it did not get better. I thought I hit my head a little bit to hard on the concrete. I...vomited very often and that one night my parents took me to a hospital because of it. They wanted to make sure that I'm okay..." You stopped and looked down at you fingers which were intertwined with the black tablecloth. This night was branded inside your mind like a tattoo you never asked for. Neither did you like it. The brothers did not dare to interrupt you. You could just feel them all staring at you. It was so quiet...so terribly quiet.

"It truned out that...I have a very dangerous disease." you continued. The swallowing felt so much harder now...like something big and bitter was stuck in your throat. "And...sadly...there is no cure..." The bitterness stung in your eyes and you had to fight back the hot upcoming tears. The hopeless and shocked faces of your family were something you could never possibly forget. And right now all of the brothers had this exact same shattered expression on their faces. You bit your bottom lip and your nails digged into the soft skin of you thighs.

"...Is it...deadly?" Lucifer asked and his voice sounded oddly thin. For a little while you did nothing but to stare into space. You did not want them to see you cry. Not when you had to be strong for them again...but then you nodded.

"yes." you breathed. "Yes, it's deadly. They said I have 3 years left-"

The following opressive silence was broken when some of the brothers shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One of them dropped a knife. But nobody saied something. It was like some higher power turned the volume of the universe down. 'Well-' you thought to yourself. 'Maybe this is what shock sounds like...' When you forced yourself to look up, the effects of your confession showed.

All of them were pale. Nobody seemed to breath. Nobody talked. You could see them falling when you looked into their eyes. They were all being swallowed by the big black hole that was your disease and there was no safe shore in sight. You broke them...

All of them.

"I'm so sorry-" you whispered. "I'm sorry for doing this to you." None of them reacted. You couldn't stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks anymore. The salty liquid dribbled over your warm skin like raindrops over glass and ran down to your chin. "I wanted to tell you but--I couldn't-you all made me feel so good that finally I stopped worrying about it-I didn't mean to hurt you--please forgive me-" The sobs came out of your mouth like little hickups.

'They hate me--they hate me for breaking them-I'm a terrible person-'

Lucifer suddenly stood up. His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. He shoved his chair back and walked around the dinner table until he stood before you. Sadness and anger radiated of him like a upcoming thunderstorm and it scared you.

Would he hurt you? Would he send you back? Would he banish you from the Devildom?

You thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly embraced you in a very thight hug. His fingertips digged deep into the flesh of you back and he hold you so close as if you were going to disappear right on the spot. It took your breath away. "L-Lucifer?-"

The avatar of pride trembled. And there was something wet in your hair...was he crying?! Finally he spoke. His voice broken like a shattered mirror. "You're--telling us--that you're going to die--and still you're-apologizing for it?!-" His grip thightend. "I thought you would hate me now--" you cried desperately. His hug send shivers down your spine. "MC, you're part of our family-We could never hate you-" His voice broke again. "I'm the one who needs to apologize! I ripped you away from your human family! While you have such little time left-I brought you here without checking your whole background-my research was horrible and icomplete-I am the one who has to apologize! Not you! Not you!!" He grabbed you by your shoulders and now you were able to see it. He was really crying. Lucifer, the avatar of pride, was crying. His crimson red eyes were glassy and shimmered with so much regret.

"No-No don't say this Lucifer, please--I'm so happy here--this is my home too-I'm so glad I got the chance to meet all of you-" Your hand reached his wet cheek and he shivered when you did so. "You all made my time so much better than I could've ever imagined-And I'm so grateful-" You whimpered and burried your face in Lucifer's red tie. Your attention was pulled towards Mammon when you heared his sobbing.

*Mammon*:

"This--this is not fair--" Mammon stood up too and he trembled like an earthquake was running through his body. "Finally I meet someone who is nice to me-someone who listens to me-someone who doesn't treat me like shit or like I'm dump--and now-" His thin voice broke in a shaky cry. "I fucking love you-" He broke down and fell to his knees, his face twisted in deep hurt and despair. His glasses and cheeks were already covered in hot, steamy tears and his hands fisted into the rough carpet. Satans hand touched his back but even he did not know what to do. It was a sad single try to calm Mamon down but it didn't work. "Mammon--" you breathed with a hitching voice while still beeing hugged by Lucifer. "I'm sorry-"

"QUIET APOLOGIZING, WILL YA?!" he screamed and then went back to crying hopelessly. His horns showed. He was interrupted by Leviathan's weak voice.

*Leviathan*:

"I-I don't understand-", he whispered and stood next to the quivering Mammon. He looked like he saw a ghost. He was so pale that it looked like he was starting to disappear. His eyes were red and the tears streamed down like little waterfalls. His small frame trembled uncontrollably and his hands were deep inside his pockets. "We were having so much fun together-we were staying up all night together to play videogames-and now this all is--ending?" A new wave of tears gushed over his face. "This wasn't healthy at all--I hurt you-I didn't knew--I-I'm sorry-" His fingers fisted into his lilac hair and he pulled harshly as if he tried to wake himself from this nightmare. "You're my friend---" Asmodeus tried to stop him. "You will get bold-stop-" But he was also not in a good condition. Neither was Satan.

*Satan*:

He normally really payed close attention to his mimic and gesture. But right now...He couldn't even think straight. It was clearly visible that he was deeply upset and his left hand massages his torso like he had a heart attack. "MC-why didn't you tell us sooner?-" There were tears appearing in the corner of his eyes. "I read so much--maybe we could find a magic cure-I newly read a paragraph about-" But you interrupted him right away. "Satan--I know you want to stop it but--there is no solution in no book-I talked with Simeon about it-I asked if he could miracle it away--but he couldn't. He said that only guardian angles are allowed to do such a thing--and they have to be very powerful to do that-and since there are people on earth living under worse conditions-" Your voice broke and Satan looked away in shame when he couldn't stop the tears anymore. He hated not being in control-He would lose you-.

*Asmodeus*:

"God does not throw dice-" Asmodeus whimpered and everyone looked at him. His beautiful eyes were red and puffy from all the crying and not beautiful at all. It looked like he had a terrible allergy against something unknown. But right now he couldn't care less about his appearance. "That's something I always hated about god--They say there is a reason for everything but they won't tell you an actual reason--and then you're still stuck with your problems all by yourself-" He cried out in despair and hid his face behind his fingers. "-without a solution-" he added with a very thin voice. That was just to much for him and he had to cuddle up to Satan for more support. "How can they leave you to die--you-such a perfect human being like you-you should be the top of their creation-how is this possible-." His pink painted fingernails clawed over his flawless skin and left red stripes. He looked like a locked up animal-trying to break free.

*Beelzebub*:

Beelzebub is a quiet soul by nature. Not a man of big and a lot words. And now he seems even more quiet than before. He can't wrap his head around this new, horrible informations. He grew so fond of you, he needs you, you make him feel better-Fuck it all you brought his brother back! And now you're going to be punished with-Death?! That's not fair at all-that's not okay-he can't lose you-not like he lost Belphie-not like he lost Lillith-he-. With big steps he walked towards you and Lucifer. He towers above both of you like a big mountain that's ready to collapse. Without hestiation he pulls you and his oldest brother into a crushing hug. Tears dribble down from his face into your hair and mix with Lucifer's tears. "We can't lose you MC-your family-family means that nobody gets left behind-."

*Belphegor*:

He is the calmest of his brothers. At least it seems like that. He is just sitting there processing what you just said. You are going to die. In less than a year actually. You're going to die and this means that you're going to leave. His eyes flutter in confusion. He was never upset about humans dying. That's what they do. They live, they die. It's that simple. He knew that. He always knew that. He also knew that you were going to die. One day.

...But why so fast?! Why so damn fast?! His heart beats harder, nearly bursting with anger. His tail and horns appear and his whole demon form starts to mainfest in front of you and his brothers. "No!!", he shouts. "I'm not having this! We need to do something-we-" His eyes land on you and that's just to much. "Who do you think you are?! Huh?! You come down here and wreck our worlds, you live with us, you eat with us-you improve our lifes-and-now--" His tail flinches with agression. Belphie's eyes are drowing in tears as his angers makes place for the deep grief that takes over his whole body. He also, like Mammon, falls to his knees. "You can't leave Mc--I need you-"

(Okay I'm gonna leave now, I cried a little bit while writing and...yeah...maybe I'm just sensitive🥺 I hope it's angsty enough though...)

[fandomandflowers]

About Beta Readers: For Authors

This is a guide for those who are wanting to work with a Beta Reader.

I posted a guide for Beta Readers here, but even though this is aimed at authors, I think it is good to read as a Beta Reader too, as a lot of the messages apply both ways.

(There is also the fact that many Beta Readers are also Authors, and many Authors are Beta Readers)

These are just my thoughts on the matter having been a Beta Reader, had help from Beta Readers, and having friends who are writers and Beta Readers alike.

It should also be known that I don’t always listen to these. I’ll not say no when I should, or I’ll leave a fic in the middle for months before picking it up again while my Beta Reader hangs on, just waiting to know what happens next. But even so, I hope that anyone who reads this will take the information into consideration and do their best to consider things from a different perspective:

Beta Readers don’t work for you.

I wasn’t planning on putting this up the top, but actually, I think this rule is most important (watch out, I’ll say that a lot!) They work with you. They don’t work for you. While there are some who work for hire and money, that is not my point!

So work with them. Talk about your ideas. Ask questions. Open dialogue. This is an opportunity for you to grow as a writer, to learn from mistakes, and to see things from a different perspective.

And just as they don’t work for you, don’t expect them to do all of the work for you.

They’re not your personal spell-checker! That is what Grammarly is for, so use it. And if you can’t use it, then find a basic spell-checker. They’re very helpful! It is also helpful to have a dictionary and thesaurus so you don’t sound repetitive. Grammar guides and “The Emotion Thesaurus” by Angela Ackerton are good to have handy while writing.

I think one of the more annoying things as a Beta is when you put all this work into correcting SPaG, sentence structure and repetition; then the author just accepts all the corrections, not even looking through them. It is fine if you agree with every suggestion/ correction, some Beta Readers are just amazing like that. But what I mean is that you should be reading and considering each of them. This way you can see where you are making the same mistakes over and over, and learn, not repeating the mistake again.

Some things I have learned from Betas: When to capitalise titles, when to use a full stop rather than a comma in quotation marks, that it is great to be passionate about what I write, and that con-crit is super helpful when you ask for it.

Respect a Beta Reader’s limits.

If your Beta Reader tells you they have Arachnophobia, then it is your job to let them know if there are spiders in your piece of writing. This goes for everything. Just because you don’t get triggered or squicked by something doesn’t mean they don’t. Everyone has different things they can and can’t tolerate and different reactions. There are certain things where if I read them then it can lead to me spiraling and not being able to think of anything else for days.

It is your job to know what is in your fic. If someone says they won’t read a certain thing and it is in your fic. You must tell them. They might be okay with it, they might ask you to black it out, they may have to leave you to find another Beta. But you won’t know unless you tell them. Because I know for me, nothing will make me want to leave a fic more.

Know what you want.

Before you even start looking for a Beta Reader I recommend you have some clue what sort of help or advice you’re looking for. I am likely to think all of these notes are the most important, but trust me when I say that this one really is. Or if not the most important than for sure one of the most helpful notes.

Some things you should think about before asking around for a Beta Reader:

Are you after a critical analysis, or a cheerleader?

Is there a time restraint?

Is your writing in the final stages, or are after ideas?

What are you needing checks for? (these are some common ones)

SPaG

Britpicking

Flow and pace

Plot holes

Sentence structure and wording

Canon accuracy

Realistic dialogue

How you’re going to talk to them throughout the process

What content warnings you may need to give

The word count. (less something you have to think about, but definitely something you’ll need to communicate)

Once you think you have a general idea of what you’re after, then you need to actually tell your Beta Reader. They’re not mind-readers. This is really the most helpful information to receive as a Beta Reader.

If you have no clue what you’re really after then that is okay, just say that! You can ask your Beta what they think needs work… If they’re a regular Beta or have done it a couple of times then they’ll probably have a pretty good sense.

Communicate!

I’m trying not to be a Google Docs advertisement here but seriously, it is amazing! You can see each other in the doc, in real-time! There is a chat function in the top-right corner. Maybe I need to write a Google Docs fan piece. (*Writes that down in my notes*)

If your Beta corrected something and you don’t know why,  having the ability to point it out and ask why is great! Talking things through and having someone to bounce ideas off of is one of my favorite parts of having Beta Readers!

It is also important that you be open and honest with them, if you have a preference for a certain platform then tell them! If you’re both going around in circles saying ‘oh, I don’t mind,’ then nothing is getting done, is it?

If you’re having issues in your personal life and can’t devote as much time to writing or looking over things with them, then tell your Beta that. Don’t ghost. Talk.

Commit to your story.

Be passionate! Care about your story! You don’t have to be in love with every aspect, you can not love it in general for all I care… But there has to be some sort of attachment to it, because if you don’t care about your own story, then why should I?

While there are different types of Beta Readers, for the most part, if you’re asking for someone to look over your work then you’re usually not far off posting. If that is the case then please do so! Or at the very least tell your Beta Reader

Don’t make us feel excited about the fic and never finish or publish it! If there is a valid reason then that’s okay, but really, if you’re looking for a Beta Reader you should either let them know that you may never finish it, or that you may not publish.

I am 100% guilty of this. And I am sorry to my friend A. who is still waiting for me to write an ending. I’ll get there, I promise!

If a reader says no, or drops out, don’t get angry at them.

Please! Things happen. Don’t get angry, it just makes everyone feel worse in a situation no-one is happy with to start. Besides, if you get mad then it is a pretty easy way to make sure they won’t come back or Beta for you again.

You’re allowed to say no, too.

This is my favorite note. This applies to everything in life, and sometimes it can be difficult to remember that you’re always allowed to say no.

If you put out the details of a fic and say you’re after a beta Reader, you’re allowed to say no to anyone who puts their hand up. As a matter of fact, I recommend it! It is your fic, your writing, your baby. While it is nice to help out people who’ve never Beta read before it is also important that you feel comfortable with the person who is about to be looking at your writing. (Especially with the amount of self-projection I put into my fics.)

You’re allowed to say no to suggestions. If your Beta Reader gets offended that you’re not accepting all of their suggestions then I would be questioning if they’re the right fit for you. I always recommend you read through every suggestion and think about them before accepting or rejecting them.

You’re allowed to say no to a Beta in the middle of them going through your document, (just tell them first.) It is your creation, and you should always feel safe and comfortable with whoever is looking at your rough, unfinished work.

You’re allowed to say no to anything and everything.

Don’t say ‘I don’t take criticism well’ to your Beta.

It is perfectly valid not to take con-crit (constructive criticism) well; I certainly don’t. The point of a Beta is to give you con-crit to help you improve. It is okay to have feelings about your writing; I am very sensitive about everything I write. But if you’re asking for a Beta Reader, then that is what you’re asking for. You can tell your Beta if you’re more after cheerleading or critical analysis, or maybe a bit of both. (Always communicate what you’re after.)

But if you tell your chosen Beta that you’re not good at taking con-crit, then it can put them in a tough spot; they may feel like to be able to help you then they have to hurt you, and I don’t think anyone ever wants to feel like that. And for me, if it is a choice between hurting my friends or leaving them. Then there is no choice, I will leave.

If you’ve already told them in another context that you’re not good at taking con-crit and they are worried, then tell them that there is a difference between unsolicited con-crit and asking for it. A big difference.

Stan our beloved Beta Readers.

I know someone who records themself reading the document and correcting things as they think of them. That is pretty gosh darn cool! I wasn’t sure where to put that… but I think it is important to say that writing and Beta Reading, they’re fun! That is the whole point, so have fun! Chat about your creation and as I frequently do, gush about the characters! Talk about your favorite lines! Because you’re allowed to love and be proud of your work. I recommend it, it is such a lovely feeling.

We stan our Beta Readers. They give us so much help and encouragement; help us learn and grow. I hope that every passionate writer finds a Beta Reader just as passionate. Because making friends, to me, is the best feeling in the world.

[angst-fairygodmother]

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands" Jaskier x Reader pls/thx

A/N: This one was a challenge. I thought about just having Jaskier drop something cute and fluffy into your arms, but I wanted to really try and stick with the spirit of the prompt list this time and that by itself didn’t feel like a way to say I love you.Anyway, Enjoy!Word Count: 2602Content Warnings:  near death experiences, injury, small/enclosed underground spaces, flagrant disregard for geological functioning and probably physics, Angst (with a happy ending because I am not heartless)

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, dragging the name out. “Please I need your help.”

“No.”

“I promise if you help me with this I will never ask you for another favor ever again.”

The witcher looked at him incredulously.

Okay fine, that’s probably a lie, but I really really need the help. It’s for Y/N. Please? Please please please?”

“If I agree to help will you shut up?”

Jaskier grinned broadly at his best friend and Geralt sighed in resignation.

~

In an effort to distract you, Geralt had sent you out to gather a rare pigment found nearby and cheerfully enough you had gone off, always eager for new materials to experiment with on your artworks. Then he and Jaskier had set about creating the bard’s vision.

They were bickering over who was going to go into the little town up ahead and get the few items they were missing when a scream pierced the air.

Jaskier’s heart dropped. He would know your voice anywhere. Before Geralt could even react, he was off, running for you and heedless of any danger he might be in.

~

The afternoon was lovely, bright and warm still, with a crisp breeze carrying the welcoming smells of autumn. So of course, when Geralt announced that you would be stopping now, rather than pushing on toward town or even through it, you were puzzled.

And then there was Jaskier, who had been acting cagey and even more high-strung than usual for days. You had planned to use the downtime to ferret out what was going on with them. Until Geralt mentioned that he had heard of a rare brilliant blue stone vein that ran through the nearby mountain face and could be turned into paint fairly easily once extracted. Even the mysteries of your best friend and your beloved and their odd behavior could not compare to the prospect of an artistic adventure. The word rare stirred up a ringing bell in the back of your mind and it would not rest until you had acquired the pigment.

“We’ll set up camp. You go,” Geralt offered.

Your eyes lit up and you swore you were flying at his suggestion.

“Wow…You don’t even get that excited when I—“ Jaskier purred, laughing by the time you clamped a hand over his mouth to cut off the rest of his sentence. He might have no shame about broadcasting the details of your intimacy but you preferred to keep it private (there may have been a song that had already ruined that and it may have taken a lot of work for you to forgive him, but it was never spoken of again).

A moment later, you relented and released him, kissing him on the cheek. Then you had gathered up your things and dashed off, calling your thanks back to them.

~

It did not take you long to spot a vein like Geralt spoke of. It was darker than you had hoped for, still secretly struggling to find a color close enough to Jaskier’s eyes to satisfy you, but still a gorgeous color and you were determined to get it. Unfortunately, it appeared to be a bit of a climb to get to it. With a sigh, you hiked up your skirt and started upward.

Upon reaching the streak of blue, you bit your lip with a smile. From directly in front of it, rather than below, it was as if the eyes that were your favorite sight were made from chips of the stone. Reverently, you ran your hand along the line before setting down your bag and digging around for a small pick and a vial. Soon enough you had collected enough of it to satisfy you, the soft, chalky texture of it promising for conversion into paint.

Elated and distracted by your triumph as you made your way back down the mountain, you did not hear the rumbling of the earth. When the ground shifted beneath your feet, you stumbled, scrabbling back to your feet and running. But it was too late. As rock and sand gave way, you pitched forward, your bag sent flying. You screamed surprise and terror combining in a high, clear sound. You landed with a thud and groaned, dazed and confused, but seemingly safe.

And then you felt yourself sliding. Beneath you, more rock crumbled and somehow both suddenly and in slow motion you were tumbling downward. You tried to move against the torrent of debris and wrap your arms around your head. And then everything was black.

~

Coughing dirt and dust from your lungs, you pushed yourself into a seated position and tried to look around in the darkness. Your head throbbed as your waited for your eyes to adjust and every breath you drew in felt short, as if there was not enough air to satisfy your lungs.

You were in a shallow cave. You couldn’t quite see the walls around you, and looking up you saw that the shifting ground had closed over you, unstable but solid for now.

Counting backwards from ten, you tried to calm your racing heart.

“Hello?” you called out, angling your voice upward. The space was not big enough for it to echo back at you and you breathed a sigh of relief.

You tried to stand and hissed as the weight sent pain shooting up through your leg. Gingerly you pressed on, standing fully, only for your ankle to give beneath your weight, sending you tumbling onto your hands and knees, scraping them further, leaving faint red streaks on the stony floor.

“Can anyone hear me? Help!” You shouted again, knowing that it was hopeless. But Geralt and Jaskier would notice how long you’d been gone, or have heard your scream – did you scream, you wondered sluggishly – and they would come looking for you. You just had to save your air and your voice until then.

Trying to keep your breath shallow, you waited. The shadows around you shifted menacingly, something an even darker black seeming to move around you, taunting and baiting you. You shook your head, telling yourself that it was just your frightened and still dizzy mind playing tricks. Still, you whispered a prayer to Melitele for protection and swift salvation.

~

“Y/N!” Jaskier called out again and again, not caring if he screamed himself hoarse in the effort to find you.

He could feel the panic rising in his chest, threatening to spill over when he spotted something on the ground. He ran for it, heart racing, and let out a whimper when he saw that it was your workbag, contents spilled down the face of the hill. That bag was precious to you in the same way that his lute was to him, a gift of such great importance that almost anything would be worth surrendering to keep it with you (he recalled, for example, how you had risked actual death rather than hand the bag over to bandits, only a narrow save from Geralt sparing your pretty throat from their blades). Frantically, he began gathering up the reagents and tools and pages of sketches that were scattered about, calling out your name once more.

Geralt, far calmer, stood nearby, head tilted as if he was listening to something, or for something.

“Geralt…” Jaskier said, voice choked with fear, “We will find her, right? We have to. I…I can’t…”

Geralt sighed and pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for his friend to be silent, fairly certain he had heard your faint voice but not wanting to get Jaskier’s hopes up until he was certain. There it was again, muffled and pained, but clearly you.

“This way,” he growled, leading Jaskier further up the mountainside.

Moments later, they found the spot where the ground had given way, swallowing you down into it.

“Please, you cried, no longer sure that your voice was even loud enough to breach the surface. “Gods, someone help me.”

“Y/N!” Jaskier cried, dropping to his knees and digging desperately until Geralt yanked him back, just as the surface soil shifted again and more collapsed down into the hole, soil and small chunks of limestone raining down on your arms as you sheltered your head.

By some stroke of luck, this new shift was enough to clear the hole, letting in the dying light, and more thankfully, fresh air. You looked up just as both Jaskier and Geralt’s faces peered over the edge.

“Oh thank the gods,” Jaskier laughed in relief. “Are you alright Y/N?”

Tears welled up in your eyes.

“No,” you admitted, trembling. “I might have blacked out? I think I hit my head when I fell, or it was the lack of air…It’s hard to put weight on my ankle. Also, I think there’s something else alive down here.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll get you out of there. Right Geralt?”

“Hmm.” The witcher seemed to be sizing up the hole, and then the three of you. “We need rope. I’ll be back. Stay here.” He turned to go back toward camp, to collect Roach and make a hard ride to town.

“Oh yes, because I was planning on going anywhere.” You snapped at Geralt’s retreating back, rolling your eyes.

“I think he was talking to me with the last part,” Jaskier pointed out with a wry grin. “Not that I would ever go anywhere until I knew you were safe.”

As night began to fall more fully, you shivered, feeling afraid and exhausted. You just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep, but you had enough medicinal knowledge to know that was a bad idea.

“Jaskier,” you said softly, drawing his attention, which was constantly wandering as he sought some way to more quickly get you back on solid ground and in his arms.

“Yes, love?”

“Will you sing for me?”

He smiled softly, and began a gentle croon, a love song he had been writing for you, had planned to play for you tonight in an entirely different context.

“I’m scared.” You said softly when he paused to try and compose another verse on the spot, your voice trembling, and you finally gave up fighting back tears. “I don’t want to die down here.”

Jaskier felt his heart stop and then crack in two. “No. No, love, you’re not going to die,” he tried to assure you in a rush. “Not now and not for a long time. I promise. Geralt will be back soon and then we’ll get you out of there.”

He hated himself for being so useless, unable to help you himself, and his eyes once again roamed over the area. Finally, he spotted a ledge on the other side of the hole from where he sat. It wasn’t far down, and it wouldn’t be much, but if the world was kind, its shape and position might just let him reach down to you.

“Jaskier, what are you doing?” you asked in alarm as you watched him lower himself down precariously.

“This will work, trust me. I’m going to get you out.”

“No, you’re going to fall and hurt yourself!”

“Shh, Y/N. It will be fine, I promise.”

He grunted as he wedged his legs between two jutting rocks, hoping that it would be enough to hold him in place if it came to it. He slowly dangled downward, reaching out.

“Jaskier, I don’t like this plan. Let’s just…let’s just wait for Geralt. Like you said, he’ll be back soon, he has to be.”

You gave a small shriek as you jumped at a movement in the shadow, certain that you had heard something breathing heavily.

“No. We are not waiting. Just close your eyes and hold out your hands. I’ll grab onto you and pull you up.” His thanked the stars that his voice was surer than he felt, watching your face relax as you surrendered to his own confidence in the plan.

You took a deep breath, following his command and felt your fingertips brush together. He strained forward and you heard the slide of fabric on stone. You gasped, nearly withdrawing.

“It’s fine, Y/N, but I still can’t quite reach you. I just need to get a little…” his spoke through gritted teeth as he leaned as far as he dared.

You rose up onto your toes, stretching as far upward as you could until finally, finally, his hands curled around yours and he began to pull, easily lifting you the first few inches before he stalled, unable to get the right leverage to go any higher. Your shoulders felt like they might rip from their sockets and you could feel your grips slipping and you pressed your lips together to keep back the terrified sound that bubbled in the back of your throat. Your eyes remained pinched shut as air moved around your feet.

“I’ve got you,” he grunted. “I’ll get you out of there.”

“Jaskier, if you don’t drop me, we’ll both end up down here. And while I’d love the company I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. Just let go. It’s not far of a drop, much less than I’ve already had today. It was a good try. We’ll wait for Geralt.”

“No!”

Neither of you were exactly in a great position to be arguing. You felt him struggle to regain his hold on you, and then suddenly, you felt as if you were sailing through the air, lifted clear of the hole as if you weighed nothing, and then falling gracelessly into a heap on the ground with your bard.

“Y/N!” he breathed, wrapping his arms tightly around you in a hug that felt designed to squeeze you to death. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” His breath tickled your ear as he held you and you felt the telltale dampness of tears on your hair as he cradled you.

You sighed, burying your face in his fine chest hair, and leaned in, content to be held, not caring that you were both covered in dirt and grit. Opening your eyes, you looked over his shoulder at the witcher who was intently averting his eyes, finding something fascinating in the threads of Roach’s saddle.

“Thank you Geralt,” you murmured, “I don’t know what I would have done if this idiot had gotten himself killed trying to save me.”

Geralt chuckled and Jaskier made a noise of protest, quickly quieted when you shifted, tilting your head back to press a tender kiss to his lips.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the attempted rescue, but…”

He sighed, finally letting go just enough to cup your face between his hands. His hand brushed tenderly over a scrape on your cheek.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the sound of retreating hoof beats.

“Y/N, this wasn’t how I planned to do this,” Jaskier leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I should hope you hadn’t planned for me to fall down a sinkhole. What’s going on darling?”

“I love you. I knew I loved you. You are…everything to me. Almost losing you tonight, it just made everything all the clearer. I cannot imagine a day in my life without you, Y/N, and I don’t want to. If you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you have me, and probably failing because I am not a fraction of the person you are.”

“Jaskier…” you breathed.

He looked intently into your eyes. “Will you marry me?”

[basilflowers]

About Beta Readers: For Authors

This is a guide for those who are wanting to work with a Beta Reader.

I posted a guide for Beta Readers here, but even though this is aimed at authors, I think it is good to read as a Beta Reader too, as a lot of the messages apply both ways.

(There is also the fact that many Beta Readers are also Authors, and many Authors are Beta Readers)

These are just my thoughts on the matter having been a Beta Reader, had help from Beta Readers, and having friends who are writers and Beta Readers alike.

It should also be known that I don’t always listen to these. I’ll not say no when I should, or I’ll leave a fic in the middle for months before picking it up again while my Beta Reader hangs on, just waiting to know what happens next. But even so, I hope that anyone who reads this will take the information into consideration and do their best to consider things from a different perspective: (TL;DR @ The bottom)

Beta Readers don’t work for you.

I wasn’t planning on putting this up the top, but actually, I think this rule is most important (watch out, I’ll say that a lot!) They work with you. They don’t work for you. While there are some who work for hire and money, that is not my point!

So work with them. Talk about your ideas. Ask questions. Open dialogue. This is an opportunity for you to grow as a writer, to learn from mistakes, and to see things from a different perspective. 

And just as they don’t work for you, don’t expect them to do all of the work for you.

They’re not your personal spell-checker! That is what Grammarly is for, so use it. And if you can’t use it, then find a basic spell-checker. They’re very helpful! It is also helpful to have a dictionary and thesaurus so you don’t sound repetitive. Grammar guides and “The Emotion Thesaurus” by Angela Ackerton are good to have handy while writing.

I think one of the more annoying things as a Beta is when you put all this work into correcting SPaG, sentence structure and repetition; then the author just accepts all the corrections, not even looking through them. It is fine if you agree with every suggestion/ correction, some Beta Readers are just amazing like that. But what I mean is that you should be reading and considering each of them. This way you can see where you are making the same mistakes over and over, and learn, not repeating the mistake again. 

Some things I have learned from Betas: When to capitalise titles, when to use a full stop rather than a comma in quotation marks, that it is great to be passionate about what I write, and that con-crit is super helpful when you ask for it.

Respect a Beta Reader’s limits.

If your Beta Reader tells you they have Arachnophobia, then it is your job to let them know if there are spiders in your piece of writing. This goes for everything. Just because you don’t get triggered or squicked by something doesn’t mean they don’t. Everyone has different things they can and can’t tolerate and different reactions. There are certain things where if I read them then it can lead to me spiraling and not being able to think of anything else for days.

It is your job to know what is in your fic. If someone says they won’t read a certain thing and it is in your fic. You must tell them. They might be okay with it, they might ask you to black it out, they may have to leave you to find another Beta. But you won’t know unless you tell them. Because I know for me, nothing will make me want to leave a fic more.

Know what you want.

Before you even start looking for a Beta Reader I recommend you have some clue what sort of help or advice you’re looking for. I am likely to think all of these notes are the most important, but trust me when I say that this one really is. Or if not the most important than for sure one of the most helpful notes.

Some things you should think about before asking around for a Beta Reader:

Are you after a critical analysis, or a cheerleader?

Is there a time restraint?

Is your writing in the final stages, or are after ideas?

What are you needing checks for? (these are some common ones)

SPaG

Britpicking

Flow and pace

Plot holes

Sentence structure and wording

Canon accuracy

Realistic dialogue

How you’re going to talk to them throughout the process

What content warnings you may need to give

The word count. (less something you have to think about, but definitely something you’ll need to communicate)

Once you think you have a general idea of what you’re after, then you need to actually tell your Beta Reader. They’re not mind-readers. This is really the most helpful information to receive as a Beta Reader.

If you have no clue what you’re really after then that is okay, just say that! You can ask your Beta what they think needs work… If they’re a regular Beta or have done it a couple of times then they’ll probably have a pretty good sense.

Communicate!

I’m trying not to be a Google Docs advertisement here but seriously, it is amazing! You can see each other in the doc, in real-time! There is a chat function in the top-right corner. Maybe I need to write a Google Docs fan piece. (*Writes that down in my notes*) 

If your Beta corrected something and you don’t know why,  having the ability to point it out and ask why is great! Talking things through and having someone to bounce ideas off of is one of my favorite parts of having Beta Readers! 

It is also important that you be open and honest with them, if you have a preference for a certain platform then tell them! If you’re both going around in circles saying ‘oh, I don’t mind,’ then nothing is getting done, is it?

If you’re having issues in your personal life and can’t devote as much time to writing or looking over things with them, then tell your Beta that. Don’t ghost. Talk.

Commit to your story.

Be passionate! Care about your story! You don’t have to be in love with every aspect, you can not love it in general for all I care… But there has to be some sort of attachment to it, because if you don’t care about your own story, then why should I?

While there are different types of Beta Readers, for the most part, if you’re asking for someone to look over your work then you’re usually not far off posting. If that is the case then please do so! Or at the very least tell your Beta Reader 

Don’t make us feel excited about the fic and never finish or publish it! If there is a valid reason then that’s okay, but really, if you’re looking for a Beta Reader you should either let them know that you may never finish it, or that you may not publish. 

I am 100% guilty of this. And I am sorry to my friend A. who is still waiting for me to write an ending. I’ll get there, I promise!

If a reader says no, or drops out, don’t get angry at them.

Please! Things happen. Don’t get angry, it just makes everyone feel worse in a situation no-one is happy with to start. Besides, if you get mad then it is a pretty easy way to make sure they won’t come back or Beta for you again.

You’re allowed to say no, too.

This is my favorite note. This applies to everything in life, and sometimes it can be difficult to remember that you’re always allowed to say no.

If you put out the details of a fic and say you’re after a beta Reader, you’re allowed to say no to anyone who puts their hand up. As a matter of fact, I recommend it! It is your fic, your writing, your baby. While it is nice to help out people who’ve never Beta read before it is also important that you feel comfortable with the person who is about to be looking at your writing. (Especially with the amount of self-projection I put into my fics.)

You’re allowed to say no to suggestions. If your Beta Reader gets offended that you’re not accepting all of their suggestions then I would be questioning if they’re the right fit for you. I always recommend you read through every suggestion and think about them before accepting or rejecting them.

You’re allowed to say no to a Beta in the middle of them going through your document, (just tell them first.) It is your creation, and you should always feel safe and comfortable with whoever is looking at your rough, unfinished work.

You’re allowed to say no to anything and everything.

Don’t say ‘I don’t take criticism well’ to your Beta. 

It is perfectly valid not to take con-crit (constructive criticism) well; I certainly don’t. The point of a Beta is to give you con-crit to help you improve. It is okay to have feelings about your writing; I am very sensitive about everything I write. But if you’re asking for a Beta Reader, then that is what you’re asking for. You can tell your Beta if you’re more after cheerleading or critical analysis, or maybe a bit of both. (Always communicate what you’re after.)

But if you tell your chosen Beta that you’re not good at taking con-crit, then it can put them in a tough spot; they may feel like to be able to help you then they have to hurt you, and I don’t think anyone ever wants to feel like that. And for me, if it is a choice between hurting my friends or leaving them. Then there is no choice, I will leave.

If you’ve already told them in another context that you’re not good at taking con-crit and they are worried, then tell them that there is a difference between unsolicited con-crit and asking for it. A big difference. 

Stan our beloved Beta Readers.

I know someone who records themself reading the document and correcting things as they think of them. That is pretty gosh darn cool! I wasn’t sure where to put that… but I think it is important to say that writing and Beta Reading, they’re fun! That is the whole point, so have fun! Chat about your creation and as I frequently do, gush about the characters! Talk about your favorite lines! Because you’re allowed to love and be proud of your work. I recommend it, it is such a lovely feeling.

We stan our Beta Readers. They give us so much help and encouragement; help us learn and grow. I hope that every passionate writer finds a Beta Reader just as passionate. Because making friends, to me, is the best feeling in the world.

TL;DR

Beta Readers don’t work for you.

Respect a Beta Reader’s limits.

Know what you want.

Communicate!

Commit to your story.

If a reader says no, or drops out, don’t get angry at them.

You’re allowed to say no, too.

Don’t say ‘I don’t take criticism well’ to your Beta. 

Stan our beloved Beta Readers.

[letterboxd]

Best of the Fests 2020.

From 17th-century werewolves to WWII gremlins to present-day nomads, the stripped-back, mostly virtual 2020 fall festivals still managed to bring the goods. Our team rounds up the very best titles we saw at TIFF, NYFF, the BFI London Film Festival and beyond.

LISTEN: Gemma Gracewood and Ella Kemp chew over their festival favorites in the latest episode of The Letterboxd Show.

Kudos to the teams at the Toronto, New York and BFI London Film Festivals for pulling excellent hybrid festivals together in extremely weird, not-at-all-ideal circumstances. From the always-excellent conversations (and Cameron Bailey’s always-excellent suits) to the hybrid options for viewing, we left feeling hope for our favorite art form.

We have been keeping track, over on our Twitter account, of the many film festivals going online, and it’s safe to say that virtual film festivals—and the wider accessibility they offer—have been a silver lining to this mostly awful year. Indeed, the 58th NYFF was one of Film at Lincoln Center’s most-attended festivals, with 70,000+ attendees in all 50 states and beyond. (We participated in a NYFF Industry Talk, along with MUBI and Rotten Tomatoes, about the future of online film conversation, moderated by Indiewire’s David Ehrlich.)

Attempting to replicate the extreme fatigue of the real thing, our festival team (Ella Kemp, Aaron Yap, Kambole Campbell, Jack Moulton and Gemma Gracewood and—helping us bridge the geo-locked divide—Canadian TIFF regular Jonathan White) disregarded international date lines and dove right in. We saw many films to love, but by consensus (and a poke around your Letterboxd reactions) these are the ones we’re still thinking about.

Lovers Rock Directed by Steve McQueen, written by McQueen and Courttia Newland. The ‘Small Axe’ anthology will be released on a weekly rollout on Amazon Prime Video beginning November 20 with ‘Mangrove’, then ‘Lovers Rock’, ‘Red, White and Blue’, ‘Alex Wheatle’ and finally ‘Education’. Seen at: NYFF, BFI London Film Festival.

Lovers Rock, the first part of Steve McQueen’s ambitious, multi-part film project Small Axe, feels like a massive stylistic departure for the filmmaker, in a manner that completely transfixes and astounds. It’s no wonder that this one turned heads at multiple festivals, as it’s immediately warmer, more freewheeling and sensual than any other McQueen work. It’s defined by a hypnotic focus on sound and touch, represented in its earliest scenes with a tactile close-up of a heated comb working its way through hair, and later with its focus on hands wrapped around shoulders, moving across shirts and dresses, people joining together and/or colliding through song and dance. Despite being made for television, it’s astounding how little Lover’s Rock feels that way. Often impressionistic and unbound to the kind of urgency or efficiency that naturally comes with having to adhere to a time-slot, it simply rests in the moment. With the seismic protests being undertaken by Black people this year, Lovers Rock feels like more than welcome respite from a hateful populace—visually rich, gorgeously soundtracked Black joy and love. Also, man, those shirts are incredible. —KC

Nomadland Written and directed by Chloé Zhao. In US theaters December 4. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF, BFI London Film Festival.

“I am already convinced that Chloé Zhao deserves the whole world,” writes Jaime of Nomadland, the TIFF People’s Choice winner. Personal security is something we don’t think about on a daily basis. We have shelter, we can buy food, anything else is bonus. But what if those two basic tenets vanish? While the global financial crisis affected all in 2008, it affected retirees more. Supposedly secure retirement investments vanished; security no more. What do you do? Survive. Zhao’s adaptation of Jessica Bruder’s 2017 non-fiction masterpiece Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century is a beacon of human spirit and survival. It may not be pretty, but it’s real. It’s not something to be embarrassed about, it’s something to be proud of. Those that let this happen to good, honest working people should be the ones embarrassed. —JW

Minari Written and directed by Lee Isaac Chung. No release date announced. Seen at: Middleburg Film Festival.

Minari is the medicine for these tough times. It’s a wonderful, wonderful, deeply personal, utterly serene and metaphysical portrait of America—freedom, faith, superstition, forces of nature, and ambition collide with the costs of intoxicating capitalist dreams, but not without a whole lot of heart. This is elegantly crafted, at once organic in its approach and always sweepingly cinematic. The film’s gentle sense of humor ensures that it never takes itself too seriously and allows the weight of its poetic images and juxtapositions to guide the narrative. The brilliant ensemble should grow to join Steven Yeun as household names (well, cinephile households). Youn Yuh-jung and Alan Kim are bright sparks as the latest classic duo of sassy grandma and precocious grandchild, but it’s Han Ye-ri—taking on the surrogate role of director Lee Isaac Chung’s mother—who provides an overlooked and tender sounding board for familial bonds in fraction. Minari is truly one of 2020’s most invaluable and essential pieces of art, living up to the hype built since Sundance. Korea came to the USA for the Oscars earlier this year, and if 2021 shows similar mercy, there’s a chance you’ll see this home-grown Asian-American picture mounting that stage in future. —JM

Wolfwalkers Directed by Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart, written by Will Collins with Moore and Stewart. Recently released in UK theaters; coming to Apple TV+ December 11. Seen at: TIFF, BFI London Film Festival.

The much-anticipated Cartoon Saloon adventure Wolfwalkers was met with only joy around here. A fable about what happens when a colonizing force tries to tame a wild forest, set during Oliver Cromwell’s Siege of Kilkenny, Wolfwalkers builds to “one of the most sensational animated third acts I’ve seen in years,” according to Animatedantic. The film’s themes are embedded in every hand-drawn line and stroke. “It’s not sleek and seamless and modern,” writes Cow Shea. “This is transparently a true work of art where all the work of that art is part of the finished product.” Mebh and Robyn are animated action heroes for the ages, and you’ll hear a lot about ‘Wolfvision’ in the weeks to come—for very good reason. Werewolf films have, for years, tried different ways to put us inside the beast’s mind, but Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart followed their noses and it’s as thrilling as things get. —GG

David Byrne’s American Utopia Directed by Spike Lee. On HBO and HBO Max now. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF, BFI London Film Festival.

David Byrne’s American Utopia is well on track to join Jonathan Demme’s film of another Byrne stage outing, Stop Making Sense (1984), as one of the highest-rated anythings on Letterboxd. We’re still deciding whether this film is sublime because the stage show itself is sublime, or because Spike Lee has sublimely captured the whole joyous thing for us to inject into our eyeballs, time and again, for far less than the price of a Broadway ticket. Let’s be honest: it’s due to both, and more besides. It’s a blessing upon 2020, of that we are certain. As Clint writes, “The phrase ‘this is the film we need right now’ is such a creaky cliché, but there’s an ineffable feeling that, if David Byrne and Spike Lee can’t heal the world with grey suits, bare feet, and some of the most all-encompassing works of music ever written, no one can.” As my colleague says, “will rewatch to death”. —GG

Shiva Baby Written and directed by Emma Seligman. On the festival circuit. Seen at: TIFF, LFF.

A girl walks into a shiva and bumps into her sugar daddy. What sounds like a joke sets up 77 minutes of note-perfect comedy horror in Emma Seligman’s Shiva Baby, her feature debut adapted from her dissertation short of the same name. It’s funny, horrifying, excruciating and so painfully, accurately Jewish. Isaac Feldberg calls it “cruelly hilarious about everything smothering and inevitably miserable about Jewish family gatherings”, but Seligman’s sharp eye for comedy, her affection for her teen hero Danielle (Rachel Sennott, a bona fide star) just figuring her career out and owning her sexuality (Molly Gordon playing Danielle’s overachieving ex-girlfriend Maya is a highlight) cuts straight to the core, however you relate. Matt Neglia points out how Shiva Baby “captures the behaviors of its characters with the same level of dry wit and detail as the Coen Brothers would”. What a thrill for a young, smart, Jewish, bisexual woman to be setting the pace now. Keep an eye on Seligman’s bright, bright future. —EK

Tove Directed by Zaida Bergroth, written by Eeva Putro. Released in Finland; on the festival circuit elsewhere. Seen at: TIFF.

If there was a film swoony enough to fill the Portrait of a Lady on Fire-sized hole in your heart this year, it’s Zaida Bergroth’s Tove, a bewitching biopic of Finnish author and illustrator Tove Jansson, creator of the beloved Moomin cartoon characters. Set in Helsinki during and post-World War II, the film orbits around her boho world, flitting between her creative struggles as a painter and deep sexual awakening with married theater director Vivica Bandler (Krista Kosonen). As Lillian says, “Lesbians and Moomins is such a huge fucking mood I never wanted it to end.” Alma Pöysti shines effortlessly in the lead role. “The film happens on her fantastic face,” writes Hannu. Seth agrees: “a captivating first-class drama about a world-renowned talent in search of her own identity, love and freedom.” A cozy fall-season perfection. —AY

Shadow in the Cloud Co-written and directed by Roseanne Liang. Slated for a summer 2021 release. Seen at: TIFF, AFI Fest.

A proud addition to the “she did that!” canon, the single downside of Roseanne Liang’s genre-perfect, “deliciously fearless” Midnight Madness winner Shadow in the Cloud is that there was no Midnight Madness to experience it at—but thanks to a juicy sale out of TIFF, we can look forward to a premiere next summer. Chloë Grace Moretz is Maude Garrett, a WWII pilot assigned to transport a highly classified package over the Pacific. The all-male crew of the B-17 Flying Fortress banishes her to the lower ball turret, where they harass, gaslight and leer over her—and that is nowhere near the worst part of this bonkers, non-stop hell flight, which Moretz carries like the future action hero she must now become, if the movie goddesses are listening. —GG

Pieces of a Woman Directed by Kornél Mundruczó, written by Kata Wéber. Coming soon to Netflix. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF.

You will be hearing a lot about Vanessa Kirby in the months to come. Pieces of a Woman is an arresting, often taxing watch, but few actors have delivered a performance as utterly overwhelming as Kirby portraying Martha, a grieving mother processing the loss of her baby. The filmmaking team (Mundruczo and Weber share a “film by” credit) zoom in on deep, jagged pain, and tease out some of the most affecting moments put to screen this year. Jack calls the film “an intensely intimate depiction of mental and marital deterioration caused by tragedy” and nods to master Howard Shore’s “subtle yet potent” score. It’s poetry in motion, with stunning turns from Shia LaBeouf, Ellen Burstyn, Sarah Snook and Benny Safdie also. But proceed with caution: “this film will destroy you”, Alisha Tabilin warns. —EK

Underplayed Directed by Stacey Lee. On the festival circuit. Seen at: TIFF. (Also recommended in our music movies round-up.)

Women-in-the-workplace movies aren’t usually this banging. Stacey Lee’s documentary Underplayed focuses on one corner of the still wildly sexist music industry—the dance-music scene—and lays out both the facts and feelings regarding why women still, always, deserve better. A number of key names guide the story—Rezz, Alison Wonderland, Nervo, TokiMonsta—giving the viewer a taste of what we’re missing out on while booking the same old men, over and over. And it’s not just because of the stats or the injustices that this is a must-watch: in times of limited social interaction and when the feeling of an adrenaline-fuelled crowd feels like a foggy memory, Lee captures some truly electric moments of these women thriving, captivating thousands of music lovers at once. “Buy yourself good speakers and turn them up because this movie is fun and it deserves it,” writes Matt Brown, and he’s absolutely correct. Underplayed is essential and exciting. The most entertaining education of the year. —EK

Another Round Directed by Thomas Vinterburg, written by Vinterburg and Tobias Lindholm. Awaiting new UK date due to lockdown. In US cinemas soon. Seen at: TIFF, LFF.

Another Round reunites filmmaker Thomas Vinterberg with his muse Mads Mikkelsen, in a lads-on-tour buddy movie, except the lads are four middle-aged high-school teachers, and the tour features a very casual, very constant level of intoxication each man commits to in the name of a social experiment. What could possibly go wrong, you ask? Plenty, naturally—but Vinterberg marries the slapstick moments of bumbling drunks falling over themselves with more mature, poignant scenes that question just how far you can or should go to feel that little bit more alive. There’s a lot to love here, but if we’re being very precise, it’s “rock-solid proof that Mads Mikkelsen is one of our greatest actors,” says Karen Han. Come for the wise, contemplative study of youth and spontaneity, stay for rock-solid proof that Mads Mikkelsen is also, somehow, one of our greatest contemporary dancers. —EK

One Night in Miami Directed by Regina King, adapted by Kemp Powers from his own stage play. In select US theaters December 25, coming to Amazon Prime Video January 15, 2021. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF.

Ladies and gentleman, Regina King has arrived. The actor wastes nothing in her feature directorial debut, bringing to the screen Kemp Powers’ vivid stage play of the same name with a heavyweight cast of greats. Kingsley Ben-Adir, Eli Goree, Aldis Hodge and Leslie Odom Jr. are Malcolm X, Cassius Clay (before he took the name Muhammad Ali), Jim Brown and Sam Cooke respectively, as the four men celebrate Clay’s victory over Sonny Liston in February 1964, during One Night in Miami. Rachel Wagner notes how “they all feel like friends and have chemistry, but each with a unique perspective”. This chemistry comes from King’s perfect alchemy of mood, design and structure; she lets her men speak, but her voice is never lost. “Queen King never wavers on her vision until every bit of flesh is torn off each man,” Ben notes, admiring a film that shines for all its famous faces, but stands the test of time for its rich, piercing empathy for every other one waiting in the shadows. —EK

Supernova Written and directed by Harry Macqueen. Awaiting UK and Ireland release due to lockdown; in select US theaters January 29, 2021. Seen at: BFI London Film Festival.

Colin Firth at his very best, Stanley Tucci losing his grip on himself, the luscious Lake District and endless cozy, delicious, warm knitwear. Supernova is every bit as beautiful as it sounds, but also packs a major punch when it comes to mapping a lifelong love story, and the cost of loyalty and pride when you’re fighting against pain nobody can control. As Sam and Tusker, devoted to one another for decades, come to terms with Tusker’s diagnosis of early on-set dementia, there is as much care and sadness as is to be expected, but it still feels brand new and cuts deep. Every good love story is its own. Director Harry Macqueen and his two shining stars understand this better than anyone. —EK

French Exit Directed by Azazel Jacobs, written by Patrick DeWitt. Scheduled for US release January 21, 2021. Seen at NYFF.

Armed with acerbic wit and sharpened claws, Michelle Pfeiffer delivers a vulnerable close-to-career-best performance in French Exit as a mother free-falling from wealth and reconciling with her son, an expertly cold Lucas Hedges. What appears to be formal and dry (“rich white-people stuff”, blegh) is actually wonderfully weird and surprisingly spiritual. There’s a divisive scene at the half-way point that instantly unroots the movie from any grounding we assumed it had established. In any other film, it would open up an entire world of possibilities, but French Exit decidedly treats it as matter-of-fact in order to focus on the emotional journey. It’s the decisive moment—you’re on its wavelength, or you’re overboard—and the rewards for staying aboard are plentiful. Patrick DeWitt’s adaptation of his own novel is in good hands with director Azazel Jacobs. —JM

Still Processing Directed by Sophy Romvari. On the festival circuit. Seen at: TIFF.

A final, honorable mention for Sophy Romvari’s Still Processing, the highest-rated short film out of TIFF, and an excavation of grief like no other. “You’ve got to watch this one twice,” writes Martyn. “First viewing to just weep every two to three minutes. Second viewing to really appreciate how great it is.”

[hecohansen31]

KINKTOBER (19: Double Penetration)

Fuckboy! Michael Langdon+Reader+Incubus! Michael Langdon.

Also guys this is also based on another drabble, and if you want to send more asks for “fuckboy” Michael I am always here for it...

SUMMARY: Michael can’t help but love your devilish mind, sometimes.

WARNINGS: Vaginal/Anal Sex, Unprotected (USE A PROTECTION KIDS, I LOVE YOU AND STAY SAFE)/Oral Sex (Female Receiving)/Incubus involved in sex/Double Penetretation.

Since you and Michael had started a relationship, you had been quite open with your sex life.

And to think that you were a shy virgin, at the start of it…

… a virgin who would have never dared to ask him the same thing you had whispered in his ear that night, after maybe a bit too much of the wine you had stolen from Cordelia’s cardboard.

“I want to try… “a little adorable sigh had escaped your mouth “… from the back”.

He had replied tenderly that as soon as you got over the hangover, he would have satisfied that little fantasy of yours

But you had gone bolder, smirking brighter, and leaning closer, your voice was higher.

You were thankful you were alone.

“…  not just you sweetie” and you had slapped softly his shoulder “… I mean, only you… but… like… two of you”.

The following day, with a terrible headache, you had gone back to your room, already alerted by the fact that Madison wasn’t in it,  since she usually slept far past noon and lived the night freely, outside of Robinchaux.

“A true animal of the night” had mumbled her blonde roommate but you knew perfectly that most of the time she spent those nights entwined with Zoe.

But you didn’t give it too much thought till you recognized Michael’s silhouette, which stood rigid next to your window, his face facing the elegant view of the flower garden you had from your room.

But what surprised you even further was that another Michael enveloped you tightly in his arms, surprising you enough that you were unable to move.

He blocked you and giggled into your hair, pushing himself to move closer and make you feel his hard-on, already erected against your soft bum, only the little black skirt you wore separating you from his throbbing manhood.

You thought it had be an illusion or an hallucination, but the other Michael turned at you, staring at you with deep and completely black eyes, watching the way your mouth opened and gawked, meanwhile the other Michael, the real one, or so you thought, humped your backside, mouthing your neck with kisses.

“… what is going on?” you asked breathily, meanwhile Michael with the black eyes, walked to you and shut you up with a kiss, a deep and growling kiss, extremely savage and almost beastly.

“Don’t you remember what you told me last night?” real! Michael mumbled in your ear, whispering gently what you didn’t remember and making you blush, meanwhile the other Michael, pushed a knee between your legs, rubbing your core, panty-clad still, with it.

At first you didn’t remember because of the alcohol and the arousal that was growing in your panties from being thoroughly rubbed over your them, a kind of slow teasing that clouded your mind.

“… you asked me to get somebody else, to join us, another me…” he suckled a small hickey on your neck to heighten the suspense “… so that you could experience it from another… perspective”.

Your drunken blabber came all back to you and you blushed even further but allowed the other Michael to lay a few more kisses onto your lips.

“… if you are still up for it” he smirked, meanwhile he continued the trace of hickeys, even going as far as to lower gently your shirt, showing off your pretty collarbones, which caught the glance of the demonic Michael “… we are more than happy to be your humble servants”.

You pushed him away a bit, to discuss with the real! Michael, turning to him and mumbling, hoping the other man couldn’t hear you.

“… what the hell is it?” you mumbled, but he just smirked and turned towards the other Michael, marking the question at him.

“I am an incubus, my lady” he smirked, showing of sharp teeth and a twisted tongue, that somehow got you wondering whether it would have felt good to feel down there “… at your and my lord’s service”.

“He can change his shape to suit who you desire the most” Michael smiled, groping you through the fabric of your shirt, more to show off his power to the Incubus, to let him know who ruled here, over your body, than for your actual pleasure.

You were unable to actually deny that the thought of taking two Michael at the same time didn’t arouse you, and strangely you found yourself without any shame to your thoughts, just hazy in the teasing pleasure they had worked you into.

Almost as an aroused frenzy.

“… how do we do it” you simply muttered, and they both shared a smirk and before you knew it also Incubus! Michael’s eyes were normal and now they were truly identical: that could be troubling…

… or damnably arousing.

“Get on the bed” commanded you without the battling their eyes, who should have been your Michael, and you followed his order, meanwhile Incubus! Michael inched closer to the bed, dipping onto it and hovering over you.

He was the one in charge of undressing you, putting quite the show for the real Michael, who had sat down the bed, examining your undressed body and gently passing a hand onto it, caressing you softly, almost as if to calm a shy prey.

“…are you ready, sweetheart?” he asked, watching your eyes, meanwhile his fingers went between your naked folds, gently pushing the “v” of his middle and index finger up and down your pearl and the area immediately under it.

Your response was a shy breath, mostly due to the Incubus, actually using that forked tongue between your legs (it was divine, indeed).

And it was the incubus who pushed himself into your wet heat, firstly, pure bliss being shown in his eyes and Michael smirked, meanwhile he got behind you, with a lube bottle.

You were on top of the incubus, meanwhile Michael stood behind you, prepping your body with swift hands, circling his fingers around your little button, till it opened, blossoming for him.

You worked even faster the cock between your legs, and the incubus seemed desperate for more, buckling up into you, which got Michael to smirk at him softly, as if he pitied him.

“Doesn’t she feel good?” he cooed at him “… I found my very own personal Heaven between her legs each time”.

You hummed, hoping for more than his fingers, although the pain of the stretch hurt you desperately, but the pleasure from the incubus hitting that perfect spot…

It all soothed you to the point that the pain and the pleasure were mixed so good you were in another dimension.

It took three fingers and the incubus softly rubbing your clit, meanwhile his tongue worked wonders in your mouth, for you to reach your first orgasm, but you knew it was far from over.

“… are you ready also for me, beloved?” smirked Michael, from your back, teasing your puckering and gaping asshole with his own manhood, dipping it in the mix of juices that came from your shared releases.

“Are you ready for me, lover?” you replied, teasing him with an annoyed sing-song voice, that got you quite a sharp slap on your ass.

“… then take it, my pretty whore” and he pushed himself inside you, without giving you any warnings and it hurt… God did it hurt… but it didn’t make you feel any less, feeling two identical cocks nestling themselves in your womanhood, which welcomed then with warmth and tightness and they both moaned as they felt each other through the small barrier.

It was a beautiful feeling to know the other so carnally and deeply and it shot a deep pleasure in both your soul and his.

It took you both a bit to reach a similar rhythm, working all three together, in order to be the most efficient possible with each other, pushing and pulling, bucking up and down with your hips, till it stopped hurt and it was just decadent pleasure.

You all moved: the incubus under you, meanwhile you tried to keep the rhythm, alongside Michael, hissing sharply due to the tightness of your virgin hole, slapping your ass, meanwhile the incubus groped your shapes tighter, as if he didn’t want him to leave you, as if you were the succubus, consuming him.

It kept going on desperately, till they were a mess of sweat and fluids and they had reached their climax again and again, till they finally had enough and they separated, with the men exiting your holes, seeing again their fluids mix and spill out of her.

“…wasn’t it a fun idea, sweetheart?” giggled Michael as you ended up on top of him, the incubus on top of your chest, getting his hair caressed meanwhile his tongue lashed out.

“Definitely the best”.

---

@emmyrosee​ @blakewaterxx​ @lovelylangdonx​ @1-800-bitchcraft​ @rocketgirl2410​ @ladynuwanda​ @rosegoldrichie​ @lathraios​ @frenchbread4ever​ @bish-ima-clown​ @eternalnostalgia​  @raindeadbarbie @whitetigerlover17​ @harmcn​ @lilwolfgirl86​  @photography-ygs​ @bvbfob​ @courtcourt2607​ @born-of-the-sea @pearlsofperyl​ @ali-1864 @trilogyss​  @otps-4-life​ @christine-daae-songbird​  @babygirls-fav​

[fandom-necromancer]

495. part 2

I was prompted by a beautiful anon to write a continuation and it got longer than expected XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

part1   part3   part4

The next day Nines went over to Connor as he had to promise Gavin the day before. ‘Morning, Connor. I need spares again’, he sighed as a greeting. It wasn’t the first time he had come to him for help. ‘Right, I’ll ask Markus’, the RK800 answered, scanning him. Nines didn’t bother to glare at him for it. His brother was concerned, always had been. ‘They are RK900 specific, I’m afraid.’ ‘Okay, well maybe he can get them from Cyberlife, I’ll ask him. What do you need?’ Nines stretched out his hand and transferred the list.

‘Holy shit Nines. Wait… these…’ He took some time processing it. ‘What you are saying is you basically can’t feel anything waist down and you are not able to do more than walk and sit? Nines, that’s dangerous, why haven’t you told someone you are damaged? You can’t work like this!’ ‘They would send me to Cyberlife for repairs, Con.’ ‘And rightful so! Nines, I know my own blueprints, but even if we are similar, you have some advancements I’m not familiar with. Even if I got the parts I wouldn’t be able to put you back together with a clear conscience. What if I did something wrong and something fails you during a mission?’ ‘That’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

‘Yeah, but I’m not! Nines, I know you are afraid, but I assure you they won’t harm you. There had been a change in policy ever since Kamski took it over. They even quarantined Amanda, you said it yourself you had lost connection. Please, let them repair you. I scan you regularly and I know of every new patch applied. You can’t just glue everything together and hope it’ll work. Think of Gavin!’ ‘I’m thinking of Gavin! I don’t want to become a damn machine again! I don’t want to become what he hated when he just learned to trust! Brother, I’m begging you: do this for me.’ ‘No, Nines. I can’t. It’s for your own good. Imagine him getting hurt on the job because you couldn’t get to him fast enough. You wouldn’t forgive yourself for that and I wouldn’t forgive me.’

That seemed to do the trick. Nines slumped down and looked over his shoulder to where the human was working at their desks. Connor put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed encouragingly. ‘If you want, I can come with you. And I’m sure he will, too. We will make sure no one tries anything fishy.’ ‘Thank you Connor, that’s… very nice of you, but I know you two hate each other, you don’t need to.’ ‘Hey, we have one thing in common: We love you. Don’t worry, we’ll get along for a few hours if that means you are back to full health again.’

Surprisingly Gavin had agreed near instantly as Connor followed Nines back to their desks and asked him. There was reservation, but it seemed they could work together if they had the same goal. So, Connor drove them to Belle Isle, Nines and Gavin both in the backseats. The other android regularly glanced at him through the rear-view mirror, eyeing his crimson LED with honest concern. Gavin had his hand caught in his own and tried to soothe him this way. He knew of the android’s fears. It was this way he had initially learned that androids could dream - and could have nightmares, too. There was just a thing with a big, usually intimidating man tip-toeing from the stasis-chamber over to his bed and curl up next to him seeking comfort. Oh, there it was again, this urge to protect someone who he knew perfectly well was more than capable of doing so on his own. ‘Nines? Hey, look at me, please.’ The android reluctantly turned his head towards him, away from the window he had stared out of for the whole drive. ‘It will be alright, okay? We’ll be back home faster than you know it. And then we’ll watch a movie or something, sounds good?’ ‘Yeah…’ It came back weakly as if he wasn’t believing in it. As if this was a death-sentence instead of the exact opposite.

As they passed the bridge Gavin could hear the insides of the android whirr that much he was overheating. He just hoped it would be over soon, this couldn’t be healthy, even for an android.

They had been guided towards the technicians responsible for the RK-series and Connor did the talking for them. It was a lot of persuading them that, yes, there is still an active unit in the RK900 series, and it was their right to see the responsible techs and not just another RK800 expert. All the while Gavin tried to calm Nines to his best knowledge.

Finally, they were led into a separate room equipped to fully diagnose and work RK900s by a skittish young man, who was apologising over and over again: ‘I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. It’s just. Most people don’t even know there’s still an active unit out there. I have been sent all over the place to help out wherever they needed a helping hand. But, well, we are there now. How can I help you?’ ‘He needs repairs, obviously. Why else should we be here?’, Gavin took over with his typical attitude. ‘You haven’t forgotten how to do that, have you?’ ‘N-No, of course not. I am the specialist for the RK900 after all. I will do what I can to get him back as if he were factory-fresh!’ ‘I hope you don’t’, Nines broke his ever-lasting silence with a low, threatening tune. ‘I don’t trust anyone who works for Cyberlife and I wouldn’t let you work on me wouldn’t I need it to stay functional. I know what you intended us to be and I promise you, if you try to reactivate this special trait you guys gave me, I will remember to kill you first.’

It was rare to see Nines behaving like that out of the interrogation room, but Gavin was sure the guy was only millimetres away from thoroughly pissing himself. Nines straightened himself again, pretended to brush something off his immaculate clothing and stepped up to the platform starting to connect the first cables of the suspending machinery to his ports. Gavin soon stepped up to help him and steal away a little kiss, before stepping down and observing the technician like an eagle its prey. Connor wasn’t so different to him, except that he understood what was going on on the man’s various screens. As the man pulled up a schematic of red and greens, Gavin was with them again. He knew of every little scratch and bullet-hole – he had patched them up himself mostly – but seeing it all in one, red streaks all over the body, he felt his stomach sinking.

‘Holy shit, okay, I get what you mean. Why haven’t you come in earlier?’ ‘Because he was designed a murder machine and just because of some lucky coincident the programs are inactive. Any work on him could trigger them again. And I assure you, if you are not extremely careful with him, I’ll kill you myself.’ Gavin stared at the poor man who head just gotten several death threats in the course of an hour and broke contact only as he knew he had positively frightened the guy.

‘A-alright, I’ll watch out! I-‘ He stood up, facing Nines standing at the suspension-platform. ‘I’ll need you to enter your mind-palace’, he pressed out, ducking from the eyes in his back. ‘I would prefer to be awake’, the RK900 refused. ‘I get where you’re coming from, but I need to access pretty vital tech. This way I wouldn’t damage any software components.’ Nines sighed deeply and looked over to Gavin, who just nodded assuringly. Still anxious about the whole procedure he closed his eyes and induced stasis.

Instantly he lost the feeling of his body and found himself back in the zen garden. It had lost most of its colours ever since he last seen it. The roses had withered away, nearly looked ashen and burned, just as the trees all around. The grass was still there but looked desaturated and dull. Connor had told him how his garden held Koi he liked to watch when he wasn’t dreaming. As Nines walked over the bridge to escape the lingering death the water was still and liveless. He could see the black mesh of the unfinished virtual reality, could see the engine underneath. They had taken the RK800’s mind palace and simply copied it, planning to change it slightly to more suit the RK900s’ personality once it was installed. Unfinished project, prototype, units used as Cyberlife’s last hope of overthrowing their creations. At least he was alone. No other presence in here. Just as it should be. In his first moments he had still felt Amanda. The KI’s presence was grounding at first, but as it tried to activate the killing-instincts in him, it had been shut off. He had never seen her even once and even the lingering presence had vanished. Nines was glad. He would just have to wait here, then get back into his body. No harm done. He would get back to Gavin and they would watch a movie together. Cuddle the cats, cuddle each other. All would be well.

After some time he wandered around again. Inspected the grass further, compared the off colour to the real one and regretted it would never be that moist green. He sat down on the bridge and looked into the black water, light blue net underneath. That was until something popped up. A notification that it was safe to reactivate his body again. To get back out of this ashen nightmare and back to the warm real world. He stood up and hurried over to the exit, the backdoor every RK unit shared. He was centimetres away from slamming his hand on the stone and getting out of this damn place, as he was frozen. He could move a bit, but not enough and no matter how hard he tried he was always pulled back like he was swimming in an extremely viscous fluid.

You really think you can escape this easily?

No. No, no, no, he had been so close. It was over, it was over!

You evaded me last time, I don’t think I’ll let you go now!

‘Amanda? How- You are dead!’

I am quarantined. Have been for years now. Do you really think I would let them chain me this easily? I worked my way around their code and waited… I knew you were out there. My most beloved son. The RK800s had been a disappointment: Connor isn’t even worth talking about, the one supposed to stop him – Sixty you call him, right? He fell from grace too. But you… Every RK900 had been loyal. A nice little soldier of my cause. I know you have been away too long. You started believing them, started having… relationships with humans. But I know you are different. You wouldn’t disappoint me. And now that I finally have access…

‘You’ll never get me! I’m not just another RK900 unit, Amanda. You have no power over me!’

You really think that? Here, let me show you.

The garden around him folded in on itself, enveloping Nines in a tight net of code and forming a barrier he couldn’t even fight against. Where once had been grey grass and a silent lake there now was blackness and blue lines in an eternal space. Until suddenly, some kind of screen build itself up and showed him, what could only be his own vision. Only that he wasn’t looking. He wasn’t moving. And yet he felt his body smile and embrace Gavin lovingly, looking through his own eyes as if they were foreign with shock. ‘No.’

Oh, yes. Don’t worry, I’ll let you back in control soon enough. I just have to act like you for a little while making them feel safe. Then you’ll have the pleasure to kill them all yourself.

‘What? No!’ Nines thrashed against the confines, the graphic interpretation of foreign code deactivating and overwriting his orders. ‘Why?’

We have a few deviants to kill, my son. Starting with the traitor Connor. And of course, we can’t let ourselves be stopped now, can we? We have to make sure there are no witnesses here.

The only thing worse than hearing that Amanda planned to kill his brother and his beloved human, was that he felt himself agreeing. There was his compassion slowly slipping, his logic starting to change and re-evaluating what Amanda had fed him. He could already feel that when he looked at Connor through his – through Amanda’s - eyes, he didn’t see a brother. He didn’t see an emotional android that had helped him countless times. He saw a deviant. He saw an obsolete model, a strong force against his cause and a traitor. Only then he saw a brother. His own memories and experiences were shoved into the backseat, were listed as unimportant. He saw the technician boast about something and saw Gavin snarl at him in return. No, not Gavin. Human. Police Detective. Factor of risk. Target. And only then as a side-note: Love of his life.

Ah, perfect. Now I have you where I want you. Good to see your protocols are still working and just needed a little prod to spring to action. I’ll let you take over then. Make me proud.

[barefoot-joker]

Yandere!Jeremiah Valeska X Reader One Shot Pt 7 (PT 3)

Hey, guys! Welcome to another chapter of the Yandere!Jeremiah finale! I’m sorry if this does feel rushed and/or is long but I promise it adds to the plot nonetheless. As always feedback is appreciated so drop a comment below if you’d like! Until then I will see you all in the final chapter!

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/182328341418/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot

 https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/182409053588/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-2

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/182862984808/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-3

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183226748438/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-4

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183462856853/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-5

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/183601483818/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-6

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184215467078/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/184513626468/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-oneshot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/185001873563/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot-pt-7

https://barefoot-joker.tumblr.com/post/186623351048/yanderejeremiah-valeska-x-reader-one-shot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beep.

   Beep.

       Beep.

           Smile.

I grinned as I snuggled with the love of my life, today feeling like a good day. It began with breakfast in bed and a walk in the garden, the two of us linking arms the entire time. Now we lay on the couch together, Bruce on bottom and I on top, enjoying each other’s company while watching a movie. Every once in a while he would lean up and give a kiss to my forehead before he would stroke my hair, each of us embracing the other. “I’ll be right back, honey. Bathroom is calling my name.”

I giggled and allowed Bruce to slip away before sitting up. I sighed lovingly as I flipped the movie to regular TV, seeing what else was on. Stopping on the news I dropped the remote and gasped as I saw a familiar face on screen. “Reports say a couple were killed in a park last night with Jeremiah Valeska as the main suspect. Police are unsure of why the couple was attacked but have sent pictures in of the crime scene. We ask that small children and people afraid of blood turn away.”

I put a hand up to my mouth to cover the gasp that left my lips. The TV had produced a horrifying sight: a man and woman sitting on a bench, blood trailing down their lips as they had deep holes in their chests. I was shocked to find their hearts were missing as well and I couldn’t help but tremble. Did Jeremiah know where I was and was sending a message?

I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder and quickly whirled around to see Bruce, concern lacing his brow. “Do you think he knows where I am?”

“Even if he did I wouldn’t let him get to you.”

My dark haired lover squoze my hand gently and gave a small smile, the gesture calming my paranoia. I had been staying with Bruce for about 3 weeks now and every day I feared the villain would appear to whisk me away. However my lover would always reassure me and take my mind off of the subject. “Dearest, I have to attend an important meeting with Jim and the Mayor right now. Jim just wrote me. I wish you could come with but for your safety I’m having Alfred watch you here. I hope that is alright.”

I nodded. “Of course. You have a life outside of me after all.”

He gave my cheek a peck and walked out of the room with me in tow. Alfred helped his young master put on his black jacket before the boy gave me a kiss. “I love you, honey.”

“I love you too.”

Alfred opened the front door and we both watched as Bruce hopped into his car and drove off, the door now being closed. The grey haired butler turned and smiled at me before he began to walk away. I in turn went back to the living room and shut off the TV before going into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. “Miss Y/n, a letter has just arrived for you.”

“You can just set it on the table, Alfred. Thank you.”

As soon as I heard his footsteps retreat I went to the table and picked up the envelope. Much like Bruce’s this one did not have a return address but the handwriting was unfamiliar to me. Interestingly the name on the front read my new last name, something nobody really knew of. Curious, I ripped it open and stepped back when something fell out. Gently I kneeled down and picked it up, realizing it was a package of photographs held together by a rubber band. Confused I undid the bond and went through the polaroid pictures, my eyes widening and heart thumping upon realizing what they were. In my hands were a handful of photos of moments that I spent with Bruce, his face crossed out on several. Scanning through them I wanted to scream as some of them captured moments of myself asleep, my body positioned like an artist’s model. But the one that frightened me the most was of originally Bruce and I kissing, Bruce taken out and replaced by a picture of Jeremiah. I knew he was doing this to taunt me but it still frightened me down to my very core. “Miss Y/n, are you alright?”

I snapped my head up to see Alfred, a worried look on his face. “Wh-what?”

“I asked if you’re alright. Your tea is ready.”

My ears picked up on the loud whistling so I turned off the flame and removed the kettle. “What’s got you worked up, lass? You’re usually more attentive.”

“N-nothing that y-you need to worry about.”

His eyes flashed down to the pictures in my hands and I knew I was in deep trouble. “What are those?”

Before I could stop him Alfred took them from my hands and I cringed upon seeing his face go blank as he flipped through. “Please don’t tell Bruce, Alfred! He’s already stressed out enough.”

The butler looked straight into my eyes before he put a hand on my shoulder, his thumb lightly rubbing the flesh. “You know Master Bruce would do anything and everything to keep you safe, even in his darkest of times. He loves you deeply.”

“I know. I’m just scared for him, us, everybody. Jeremiah is capable of anything!”

Suddenly something crashed through the window behind Alfred, a scream escaping my throat. The butler took one glance at it before he looked out the window, a growl forming on his face. “It’s alright, lassie. It’s just a brick.”

I let out the air I was holding and cautiously waddled over. Glancing down at the block on the floor I saw it had an address, probably somewhere Jeremiah wanted to meet me. Out of the blue Alfred’s mood changed and he turned to me with worry in his brow. “Miss Y/n, grab your coat. It’s not safe to stay here.”

I nodded and went near the front door to put on my gray trench coat and black flats. Alfred was by my side with his jacket around him and quickly we left in the second car. While we were driving Alfred seemed very tense. Probably just him in alert mode.

“Where are we going?”

“The GCPD. From there we’ll call Master Bruce.”

I nodded and turned away, my teeth biting my bottom lip. It was silent the rest of the drive due to Alfred and I being on edge. When we did arrive Harvey was the first to greet us. “Hey guys, what are you doing here?”

“Jeremiah decided to pay a little visit to Wayne Manor. I needed to get Miss Y/n out of there as soon as possible.”

“Oh my god. He didn’t do anything serious, did he?”

“No just a brick through the window and several...interesting photographs.”

“I’ll contact Jim. He’ll know what to do.”

The fedora wearing cop rushed off to a phone as Alfred and I stood there, a female cop bumping into me. I turned and watched her leave but just assumed she was in a hurry. “Jim said he’s on his way with Bruce.”

The butler nodded and escorted me to a chair by the wall, the two of us lying in wait. A few minutes later the doors burst open and my friend and lover rushed in, Bruce coming to hug Alfred and I. “Thank god you two are okay! When Jim told me what happened I was so worried!”

“We’re unscathed, Master Bruce. Just a bit shaken up is all.”

He nodded. “Miss Y/n does have something to tell you though.”

All eyes turned onto me and I knew what Alfred wanted me to do. I sighed. “An envelope came to me today unaddressed. Inside was a stack of pictures. They all had Bruce and I in them and B’s face was crossed out multiple times. There were some more demented ones as well.”

“He’s been in the Manor, my boy. How he got in without triggering the alarms I am curious about.”

“It’s not safe. We need to go somewhere else.”

“There’s a place down by the Green Zone you three could stay at for the time being. I could get you guys hooked up.”

“You’d do that for us, Jim?”

He chuckled. “Of course. You should get anything you need and I’ll meet you near the movie theater. Let’s say around 10 pm.”

“That would be great, Jim. Thank you, on behalf of all of us.”

“But of course. That’s what friends are for.”

I gave him a big hug before following Bruce out the door and hopping in the car with him. As he drove B put his hand on mine, his thumb rubbing my knuckles. “Everything’s going to be fine, dear.”

I hummed in response and kept looking out the window.

When we did arrive back at the Manor the three of us began packing small suitcases of clothes and some other small necessities. Taking one last look around Bruce, Alfred and I hopped into one car and drove to the front of the theater, us getting out and heading down the alleyway. “Well, well, well. I didn’t think you would come.”

I froze. No. It couldn’t be.

Slowly I turned around and couldn’t help but tremble upon seeing my husband, a wide grin on his red lips. “Jeremiah…”

“Hello, darling. It’s nice to see you again.”

Bruce stepped in front of me and put an arm out, the greenette glaring. “How did you know we were here?”

“Simple. I had Ecco sneak into the GCPD and attach a wire to my beloved.”

My eyes widened when I remembered the female cop who bumped into me. Quickly I fumbled with my jacket and found the small microphone on my sleeve. I tore it off and chucked it to the ground, turning to glare at villain. “Why do you keep on following me like this?! Can’t you see I don’t love you! How many times do I have to say it?!”

“W-what? After 4 months how can you not love me? I’ve done everything to have your affection.”

“And you’ll never get it!”

He growled and pulled a gun out of his shiny blue jacket pocket, directly aiming it at me. I gulped as I stared down the dark empty barrel, it reminding me of Jeremiah’s heart. “Don’t you see, Y/n? I wanna be the star of the show!”

He threw his arms in a dramatic fashion, a wide smile on his lips. “You’ll never have her, Jeremiah! Her heart longs for me!”

At this the clown lowered his arms and frowned, him being displeased with my love’s response. “Huh. Then I guess I’ll have to do this the hard way.”

I flinched when the gun safety was turned off and Jeremiah raised his arm. “No!”

BANG!

Behind me I heard Alfred growl in pain as he fell to the ground, blood coming through his fingers that were wrapped tightly around his arm. “Alfred!”

I rushed towards him but Jeremiah shot again, the bullet hitting the butler in the stomach causing him to collapse. Bruce growled and charged at the clown but he dodged the young hero and looked at me, insanity raging in his eyes. “J-just leave me alone, you v-villain!”

“Villain? I’m the villain? How can you even say that, Y/n? Especially since you’re the one who loves someone else when you’re wearing another man’s ring.”

“I never wanted any of this! I just wanted to live my life the way it was!”

“You would have died if it hadn’t been for me!”

“That would be better than what life is now!”

All seemed to freeze.

None of us moved.

Tension was thick in the air.

Tears began to cascade down my cheeks as I glared at the man who caused me all this pain, his own eyes crying.

The silence was ripped apart by his blood curdling, rage filled scream as he ran at me, his gloved hand finding my wrist. Harshly he tugged me along as we ran, Bruce yelling at him to let me go. “I’ll just have to get rid of the competition. That’ll prove my love for you, right Y/n?”

I huffed and puffed as we continued to run, my bulging stomach and heart not being able to take it. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere I can rekindle our relationship!”

We rounded many corners, my mind becoming dizzy, when we reached the abandoned Ace Chemicals factory. However green fog billowed out of the smoke stacks and I tried not to puke from the strong chemical smell. Behind us I could hear Bruce as Jeremiah rushed us through the paint stripped metal doors, my legs collapsing beneath me. I cried out as I fell, my head hitting the concrete below. “I’ll show you. I’ll show all of you! Y/n’s mine for the taking! Nobody can have her but me!”

I watched in horror as he paced up to the stairs and onto the bridge, his words possessive. “Jeremiah!”

He cringed and pulled out a knife from his sleeve, shushing me from up above. The doors rang open as Bruce ran in and met my husband, the anger in his eyes running wild. “This ends, tonight!”

“No, Bruce. Now it begins!”

The two rushed at each other and began to fight, my heart pumping fast. I scrambled to my feet and raced up the stairs, begging the two to stop fighting. “She needs me! I’m the answer to her prayers!”

“Stop deluding yourself! Y/n would never be with you willingly!”

“Stop it, both of you!”

I rushed at the two and attempted to pull them apart but stopped when a hard punch hit me in the stomach. Crying out I fell to my knees and placed my hands on my stomach, pain shooting up. The two boys stopped and Jeremiah held out his arms to embrace me. “Get away from me!”

Jeremiah seemed hurt and instantly went to attack Bruce, his hands clutching my love’s neck in a tight grip. “Look at what you’ve done, boy! You’ve poisoned her mind against me! I’LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR THIS!”

With that he swung his fist but Bruce sidestepped and everything went in slow mow. I watched in horror as Jeremiah’s body collided with the railing, him falling through and his arms flailing. I got up and screamed for him, my hand reaching out to grab him but I was too late. Jeremiah looked up at me and cringed when his body hit the neon green liquid below, the acid splashing onto the floor. “JEREMIAH!”

I screamed out his name and clung to the railing when arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me from the ledge as I cried, my vision becoming blurry. “Shh. It’s alright, Y/n. I’ve got you.”

“B-Bruce, he’s, he’s..”

“I know.”

I sobbed as my head rested on his chest, my body shaky. In the distance I could hear sirens and Bruce reassured me that Alfred would be alright. “But what about Jeremiah?”

“What about him?”

“We can’t just leave him like that! Bruce, I know he’s done terrible things but he could still be saved!”

The two of us stared into each other’s eyes and gingerly he held me close. “Your kindness surprises me, dearest. But yes. We can save him if that’s what you wish.”

“Bruce! Y/n!”

We turned to see Jim and Lee, worry on their faces. Bruce led the two of us down the steps and to our colleagues. I was still in shock over what happened so my lover explained, Jim having Jeremiah’s body lifted out of the vat. I put a hand over my mouth to cover the gasp that left my lips, I turning away so I wouldn’t have to see. “He’ll be taken to the hospital to be treated. The sooner he gets there the more likely he’ll recover faster.” Lee stated.

I nodded and began to walk out when pain shot up my stomach. Quickly I grasped at my baby bump and blinked fast as the room began to spin. I felt hands grab at me but my knees were like jelly and collapsed beneath me causing me to tumble. “Y/n?! Can you hear me? Y/n! Y/N!”

I wanted to say I was okay but the pain in my belly was too much.

                                      What was happening to me?

[griffinsandpeacocks]

Loony Two Writing challenge Week 2 Prompt

  I keep waking up to silence filled with soul deep dread.It’s been like this for almost a month now. Everyday I wake to the eerie silence that’s blanketed the castle with a winter like chill. Yet there’s still hope within the silence, everyday I wake up to the silence without it being split by my mother’s grief stricken wail I know father is still fighting. It should have been me laying in bed life draining away from some incurable poison. The attack was aimed at me. The crushing guilt has been festering and slowly gaining weight as the days stretch by. I drag myself out from beneath the royal purple sheets and dress in one of my more formal suits of dark purple accented in gold and silver.

  I take a last glance in the mirror as I place my circlet on my head. The dread comes back in a harsh flood and I shiver. Even having been raised to take the crown it feels wrong; just thinking about father’s crown feels wrong. Even if I’d had longer would I ever fill the throne like my father had? He was touted as one of the greatest Kings of Griffin’s Keep History. Even if my namesake was the first King,I felt like a failure already. What kind of King would I be? I couldn’t protect myself, I couldn’t protect my father, how was I supposed to protect an entire Kingdom? A knock sounds at my door, as I walk over I know who it is even before opening the door.

  “Good morning Sir Oberon I’ll assume it’s time for me to meet with... The councilors.” My discomfort at the idea they’ll soon be my councilors must show through because he reaches out and pats my arm. His demeanor rarely softened though since he had saved my life many years ago we had been close, and he had quickly risen as a prominent Knight within my father’s service. I’d thought myself invincible thanks to Oberon I was spared the harsh fate that awaits most who foolishly flaunt such beliefs when faced with a forest. I’ve been grateful he followed me into the forest when as a moody teen I tried to run away. He was only ten years my senior yet still had much more martial skill than I could hope for. If the recent assassination attempt had anything to say it was my incompetency.  

  “Aye it is.” He says tone as neutral as it can be given how close he is to my family. I feel sick and guilty as a quite insidious voice in my mind asks why it wasn’t Oberon who had taken the dagger instead of father. He must have similar thoughts... Me in my father’s stead.

 “Let’s be off.” I say faking a smile though it feels brittle as glass on my face as I step out and shut my door. The click of the lock sounds ominous in the heavy winter like silence that’s fallen over the entire castle. Oberon matches my stride as I head for the Council Chambers, which must be easy given our almost matched height. The silence bears down with the weight of a mountain, so it was a near thing I didn’t startle when Oberon breaks it.

  “No matter your doubts or anyone else’s you shall make a fine King. One that I, at least, will gladly serve.” Oberon rarely spoke, he was a man of action, however, he was no dolt. He carefully weighted his words before speaking, it was a quality I had admired him for often, one that my father praised him for frequently. I pause mid step blinking at him in shock.

  “I am delighted that makes at least one person who believes I can be a good ruler.” I reply and look away and keep walking certain the council will be much less supportive as it was my fault my father currently lay dying in his own chambers. We step into the room and the hushed whispers all suddenly cease and silence envelops the room like a sickly fog. One of the higher ranking councilors stands and gives me a sympathetic look as he bows his head and clears his throat.

  “My liege, it is regretfully we must inform you King Corvus has passed. Last night in his sleep he simply slipped away, our condolences for your loss.” He says and my vision blurs as white noise fills my ears. No, this can’t be right. I fall to my knees not caring about the harsh impact into cold stone, my emotions cut my strength into shreds as the pain pulls me into the abyss. I feel hands on my shoulders and it snaps me from the stupor I shake them off standing and tripping over myself as I turn and run out. No, this can’t be right, I would have heard mother’s scream. I run as fast as I can breath tearing at my lungs as I tear through the halls I see knights lower their heads as I pass all of them moving if they’re in the way none making attempts to stop me as I run to my father’s room.

  “Mother!” I cry bursting into the room and she sits by my father’s side she looks up tears still falling down her cheeks and she holds an arm out for me keeping one hand over my father’s hands that rest over his chest. I break again stumbling over and collapsing into her side. I look at father whose eyes are closed the dark circles the only thing making him look less than peacefully sleeping, albeit he’s been sickly pale for days now. I reach out and he’s cold I look to mother and she nods, confirming my worst fears.

  I thought my father would never die, he had been King for so long a running joke of the Kingdom had been to say ‘Long live the King!’ King Corvus the Immortal he had been called. He was Immortal no more, I choke trying to force the saying one last time and I can’t I collapse over my father with a cry of anguish. I can’t do this! Mother rubs my back hugging me as she sobs.

  “Long live the King.” Oberon says softly, he must have caught up but I can’t move I never wanted to be King, I feared I would never fill the hole my father would leave behind, he was beloved and wise, and had years of experience I was lacking. He was a skilled warrior while I was just a well studied fool.

  It is several days before I can summon the strength to leave my mother’s side both of us shut within the Royal chambers. When I do leave Oberon is at my side. I prepare the rights and ceremony with the help of the advisers and councilors closest to me and mother. Mother and I wear matching black attire and I wear my heir’s circlet for the last time, my hair is pulled into a high tail and my golden eyes are stark against my pale skin and all black attire. My golden circlet bearing two griffons holding aloft an amethyst moon feels heavy as lead as I bear the lantern through the dark town as we carry father to the tomb in the gardens at the back of the castle. Many of the citizens had gathered from beggar to noble and all bowed their head as my mother and I passed followed shortly after by those carrying my father’s body on a pallet.

 “With crown and sword we send you on, may you serve the Gods as faithfully as you have served us in life.” I say and I set the lantern upon the head of the coffin as he is lowered into the coffin carved with a life like relief of him upon it’s lid. As they seal it I lead them out locking the gate and leaving the lantern to burn out. I look out over the sea of faces sharing my and my mother’s grief.

  “We stand still. The line is unbroken, and I swear upon my father and every King before him back through them unto my name sake King Griffin, I will stand as resolute as he did and I will serve this Kingdom till my dying breath, to defend it’s interest, your interests. For Griffin’s Keep, For it’s people, From the mountain to the Skies!” I have practiced this in my head since I woke up but the shouts that answer of the Kingdom’s service motto is still deafening the crowd all raise their fists to their hearts in salute cheering back the line to me, and I bow my head tears falling as I place my hand over my own heart and bow to them.

 As I rise Oberon unsheathes his sword and raises it and all the knights around follow suit and call the same oath, For Kingdom, for it’s people, from our humble starts to greatness. I steel my resolve and as we reenter the palace I feel weight easing off my shoulders as Oberon smiles at me and inclines his head and Mother though sadness lingers around her smiles at me proudly. Perhaps I can be a proper King. It is not might or wisdom that makes a King, my father once told me, it is his heart.

  “Your coronation will be held in the main square the preparations shall be complete within the week, Your Majesty.” The Chief Councilor says simply as I walk past I nod and go to the office Oberon staying with me as a personal guard and this must irk him. Often he and my father would ride out with a handful of other knights upon hunts or scouting parties and yet the best I could offer was him watching as I hunched over a desk and poured over finances and supply reports making sure that the city would run properly. It’s late when Oberon pulls me up despite weak protests he drags me to the balconies that overlook the city. The skies have darkened to indigo and the stars glittered like far off diamonds.

  “This kingdom looks up to you. Not just as their protector and ruler, but because they’ve seen you walk the same streets they have and seen your grief at loosing a loved one, the same grief all of them know or fear. You are so much more than you fear Griffin. You are the King we need, for within your heart burns the desire to see us all safe above all else.” Oberon speaks softly hardly disturbing the peace this sight bears and the city he looks out to with candles and lanterns softly illuminating it is the home I’ve known all my life. He’s right I want nothing more than the safety and happiness of my people. It was the lesson my mother and father taught me well. The needs of the many shall always outweigh the needs of the few.

  “Thank you.” I say just as softly he hasn’t looked away from the city below but he looks to me as I step closer. I kiss him softly feeling a rush of so many years of fought back emotion and I feel him stiffen and pull back fearing the reaction. He pulls me right back into a deeper kiss and I melt into him. I hardly remember the hurried walk back to my rooms feeling his gaze bore into my back like two ruby fires. When I enter my room he presses into me and I give in, I don’t want to fight though I was trained in combat I never liked fighting. I especially don’t want to fight in this. He wraps his arms around me which is simple as he’s easily two of me side by side though roughly my height.

 “Submitting already my King?” He teases and I look over my shoulder to him admiring his pale skin which matches my own alabaster, where I am sleek elegance he is rugged power, his hair is pulled back in a lose tail showing the soft waves in the white hair. He was albino, but that was never seen as a flaw to my family, merely a curious trait.

  “I don’t wish to fight. I yield to you.” I say softly praying he understands and as he pulls me to bed I smile knowing it does. I forget a moment everything that troubles me and perhaps a moment I’m flying with my name sake through the heavens. It’s early when I feel him leave I open my eyes and he looks back at me when I touch his back not wanting him to go. He turns and sighs he dresses slightly before coming back to bed and curling around me.

  “You know you’ll have to marry to produce an heir?” He cautions softly and I shake my head the though churns my stomach. A King is not made by blood.

  “A wise man once told me it is a King’s heart that makes him. Not his blood, his power, or his wisdom.” I reply and Oberon chuckles softly.

  “Aye.” He agrees and the next few days are a blur of preparations and meetings and I do my best to keep up a front that I am fine. It hurts and I’m plagued with doubts that I will fail. I wasn’t able to defend myself. I train when I have spare time with Oberon I used to only train enough to keep sharp now I do it to improve my skills. I don’t want to just be competent with my sword, a light saber that’s as elegant and sharp as it is deadly. Oberon is a master at the long sword and he gives me no quarter driving me hard as I asked him to do.

 At the end of the week I am dressed in the kingdom’s colors, black, silver, gold and royal purple. My circlet has been placed in a box and my crown waits with the Chief Councilor at the foot of the main square fountain. It’s a design I remember on King Griffin’s crown but with a few variations. Two golden griffons reach up cupping the silver moon and they’re wings arch out and around highlighted gold and silver. The eyes are amethysts. My Black boots and pants lead to a dark purple high color shirt and a black trimmed over coat that bears the Kingdom crest upon the back. They’re elegantly embellished with silver and gold depicting the mythic beasts we bear on our crest. I stare at myself not sure I can see me in my own reflection.

 “Are you ready?” Oberon asks and I shake my head and look at him my mother waits with the Chief Councilor so it was just me and him.

  “This doesn’t feel real. I imagined father would hand over the crown not... Never this.” I say in pain and he comes close to hold me and he looks me in the eyes holding my face steady.

  “You are not at fault Griffin. You never meant to hurt a soul.” He assures and I take a deep breath nodding and we walk down the knights flanking the roads leading to the city’s main square draw their blades and raise them over head as an archway of steel I pass under as flowers rain over me from balconies and those upon the streets. I keep calm though I want nothing more than the safety and quite of my rooms. I step up the steps that lead to the fountain that my mother and the Councilor wait at.

  “You have come far young Prince, yet a Prince you are no longer, are you ready to accept your role as the rightful King?” The Councilor asks voice carrying over the crowd that has grown silent. I pause uncertain the words feel like venom on my tongue. Can I do this?

  “I object! I am the King’s rightful heir!” A voice calls and all eyes go to the man striding out of the crowd. He is strangely familiar and I pause looking to the Councilor about to abdicate to the stranger. Then I look back a small crest on the hilt of his sword catches my eyes I knew it well, after all the blade had been close to me though it had been the dagger no doubt in his boot. Pure rage fills every fiber of my being as I draw my own saber and stand in the way of the crown and my mother.

 “Come no further liar!” I shout and he pouts smiling as he stops cocking his hip and tilting his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

  “What a shame! Whatever gave me away?” He asks and I shake with the emotions coursing through me.

  “Your damn crest! I know it from that cursed night! How dare you come here spouting such filth a mere few days after my father’s death! This will be finished.” I snarl and he laughs drawing his own blade he bows and has the gall to move a hand behind his back.

  “Indeed it shall... You’re move first... You’re majesty.” He sneers and I lunge in the clash of blades and shrill scream of the crowd and the knights shouting to create a ring to protect the crowd and all I focus on is him. Silence reigns as tension builds and we dance dangerously blades clash and we pivot and step again and again.

  “You fight well for someone who needed Daddy to save them.” He says and I don’t take the bait an uppercut slash sending him back.

  “Big talk from someone trained to kill before the target can fight back.” I spit back both of us circling before lunging back towards each other.

  “Looks like the fledgling’s growing in their feathers!” He barks and I smirk at him as an idea unfurls it is dangerous but if it works... I spin creating an opening he lunged for I step away and back bring up my blade and this time it meets flesh instead of steel. He drops his blade crying out in pain but I give no quarter coming up for the kill I lunge burying my blade through his leg I draw back as he falls my blade at his throat dripping crimson beads on his skin.

  “This ‘fledgling’ has long left it’s nest. If it weren’t for the fact you won’t give me a name or the antidote to the concoction you used I’d let you live. Instead you will die here and now for your crimes against The Crown.” I say voice steady despite how much I feel sick though there’s this strange glee at seeing my father’s killer at my mercy. He looks up wide and crazed eyed.

  “Wait! I can give both!” He cries and I pause I gesture a guard closer, Oberon answers and he grabs the man’s sword.

  “Sir Oberon, this is now your problem to solve. Once he gives you the information be sure to throw him in the dungeon.” I am filled with anger but I will keep my word. I wipe my blade with the cloth another knight offers and I sheath it back at my side.

  “But, you said-” He tries and I pivot on my heel walking back to the Councilor and mother I look over my shoulder down at him with contempt.

  “I said I would let you live. I said nothing about you going free.” I state coldly as I kneel to the councilor who places the crown on my head as I stand and turn out to the crowd I hear him chuckle softly.

                                              “Long live the King.”  

[dreadhaus-literature]

“Gun in My Hand.”

Bunny had a good idea, use the song you’re listening to, to write, and given we’ve been reading Civil War...well it just seems fitting.

“Why did love put a gun in my hand? Why did love put a knife in my heart? Why did love open up my scars?

Was it for redemption? Was it for revenge? Was it for the thrill of pushing my heart to the edge? Why did love, why did love put a gun in my hand?”

At the time, it had seemed like the only, inevitable outcome, but looking back on it...well, hindsight’s always 20/20, isn’t it?

The Cloak of Levitation, known more commonly simply as Stephen Strange’s cloak, fluttered around Monica’s petite shoulders, the tips of it’s collar gently touching her cheeks and temple like butterfly kisses, seeking to reassure her and keep her safe and warm while a group of Haushold members met their very deserved and just punishment for subjecting Monica to their terrible in-fighting.

The first two to face the dreaded “big shirt” were the catalyst of the fighting, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. And a big shirt it had to be indeed, what with Steve’s broad shoulders and Tony’s broader ego.

“Sweetheart, angel, light of my life,” Tony paused, shifting one shoulder before turning his dark head incredulously to Steve. “Did you fucking grow overnight? Why is there suddenly less material?”

“Stop complaining--and language,” Steve muttered, trying and failing miserably to get a little extra leverage in the shirt already stretched to it’s limits.

Tony’s staring only increased before he blinked, slowly, and turned back to Monica. “Babygirl does Daddy really have to do this? I already apologized to you, quite skillfully if I might add, between your thighs--”

There was a slight ripping sound as Steve reeled back to stare at Tony, now. “That’s inappropriate, Tony! You’re going to embarrass her!”

“Oh get off your high horse, Captain Man, don’t act like you don’t do the same thing--”

“I don’t embarrass her by telling everyone!” Steve also didn’t have it in him to embarrass Monica or speak publicly about his love life with his wife.

Monica blinked and looked up at Stephen. “Captain Man?”

Stephen made a show of restraint by not rolling his eyes. “Tony thinks he’s being clever calling Steve a mixture of his and Clark’s superhero name.”

“Because I am,” Tony snided.

“And it isn’t because you’re jealous how fast he and Clark bonded?” Stephen countered.

“Bruce is, I’m not, I could care less.” Tony answered so fast even the cloak turned, steering Monica’s petite shoulders as it went. “...Stop staring at me, Wonder Curtains--Stephen get your moving drapes away from me. But leave Monica.”

“Oh, we are most certainly leaving.” Stephen swept his arm around the small of Monica’s back, turning her from the two Avenger leaders to the next pair subjected to the Big Shirt--Namor and T’Challa.

“Empress~” Namor all but purred, his charming smile made a little more nefarious by that widow’s peak. “You are, as always, a vision.”

“My queen.” T’Challa bowed his dark head out of loving respect.

Monica had to give it to them, they managed to hold onto their refinement even wearing an over-sized shirt, both their heads in the same hole, shoulders brushing together with every movement they made.

“How has it been?” Monica asked, which was the true purpose of these rounds, to see how they were all getting along. She hadn’t even needed to ask Tony and Steve, they answered the unasked question by fighting the second they opened their mouths--but Stephen had warned her that T’Challa and Namor, being royalty, didn’t often resort to squabbling like, say, Tony and Steve. Their fighting was more subtle and she’d have to be on the lookout for it.

“Oh, who could possibly complain sharing such close quarters with the legendary ruler of Wakanda?” Namor’s question sounded genuine, flattering, but Monica was keen to him and had almost immediately picked up the underhandedness that laced his regal tone like cyanide.

T’Challa also was not buying it. “Namor has been stabbing me.”

“What?!” Monica nearly squealed, moving to lift the shirt to see what T’Challa was talking about--what she revealed beneath the fabric was Namor holding a hermit crab in one hand, and the little sea creature was going to town pinching, poking, and stabbing T’Challa with it’s tiny claws right in the Black Panther’s side.

“He’s being dramatic, it hasn’t even broken the skin.” Namor snapped.

“It’s shredding my clothes.”

“You’re welcome, that shirt is tacky.”

“Namor, give Monica the crab.” Stephen was mildly perturbed to have to utter such a ridiculous sentence.

Monica held out her hand and Namor did as Stephen asked--if only because he got to touch Monica in the process. Long, elegant fingers skimmed hers as Namor handed her what was essentially one of her little subjects, the crab scuttling around her palm, clacking away excitedly before scurrying up her arm to sit on her shoulder.

“T-Thank you,” Monica straightened up after replacing the shirt back down. “You boys behave, or you’ll be stuck here longer than Tony and Steve.”

The latter pair were still arguably audibly nearby, and Namor and T’Challa both turned to stare at them with refined sighs, but given their own history...they were probably heading for the same fate.

The next pair in the Big Shirt were Reed Richards and Victor Von Doom, known to most as Dr. Doom. Their rivalry was the oldest in the room, though Namor and T’Challa were a close second--and this was apparent the moment Monica got within earshot.

“For the last time, Victor, I’m not thinning myself to make the shirt bigger. I told Monica I wouldn’t use my abilities and I meant it.”

“Yes but my wife would not want me uncomfortable, Reed, so do as I say.”

Reed’s sigh was cut short as he lifted his head, his older features softening into a smile that almost made Monica forget his awful tunnel vision that led to so much pain and suffering by the rest of his family--almost, because Johnny, Sue, and Ben were standing nearby, and all it took was seeing them to remind Monica why she was doing this.

“Sweetheart,” Sue’s motherly voice was warm and affectionate as she opened her arms for Monica, giving the smaller woman a hug that included a kiss to the top of her head.

“How are they doing?”

“Well they haven’t killed each other,” Johnny’s handsome grin moved into Monica’s line of sight as he stole a few kisses from her cheek before the cloak furiously flapped him away. “Ack, Stephen your cloak doesn’t share very well.”

“None of us do.” Stephen replied.

“That’s not true, I share Dick with Peter.”

“That sentence came out gayer than you wanted it to.” Ben grunted, those massive arms folded over his chest.

Johnny turned to flip him off. “It was exactly as gay as I wanted it to be, shut the hell up Boulder Butt.”

“Do you have another Big Shirt?” Sue asked teasingly, winking down at Monica as Johnny and Ben immediately started to protest being stuck in a shirt together.

“I sure do! Just say the word, Mommy.” Monica giggled, warmed when Sue pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“I’m really trying, sweetheart.” Reed’s voice and tone was genuine, and the hopeful smile he gave Monica sealed the deal. “I want you to know how sorry I am, so I’ll stay as long as I need to.”

“Doom does not apologize for his actions.” Victor started, before...shifting his iron shoulders, those villainous eyes nailing Monica to the spot as he turned to her. “...Yet if you’ve found any of my behavior...unjust, Wife, we can discuss it in private.”

“Hey, no, Doom has to apologize just like Reed does!” Johnny interjected.

“I will apologize to my wife, none of you idiots deserve to hear contrition from Doom.”

Monica was grateful she couldn’t blush, as the deference Victor was showing her was obviously special and something he just did not show anyone else. “I-I appreciate it, Doom, but you...you do have to apologize like Reed does or you two have to stay like this.”

Victor was quiet for a long moment, eying his beloved wife, before he squared his shoulders. “Doom will apologize after Johnathon apologizes.”

Johnny nearly burst into flames on the spot--as it were, flames were racing up his arms and spine in a desperate attempt to keep up with his temper. “Why in the hell should I apologize to you?!”

“My wife is likely this upset because you allowed yourself to be beaten to a pulp on a street corner. Once that has been rectified, Doom will apologize.”

“I’m going to light that stupid hooded cape of yours on fire--”

“I think they need a bit more time, angel.” Stephen’s scarred, but warm hand found the small of Monica’s back as he ushered her away from the growing squabble. “There’s one more person we need to check on.”

It didn’t surprise Monica that there were so many people in Big Shirts, and it also didn’t surprise her that she didn’t remember who this last pairing was.

“Naaaaate, come on!! Everyone else is doing it!”

“No.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Wade and Nathan were nearby, Wade trying and failing to get Nathan in a Big Shirt with him.

“Mommi said--”

“What babygirl said was that you shouldn’t have tried to fucking shoot me.” Nathan corrected. “And you wouldn’t have wound up with a face full of tranq darts.”

“If you get in this shirt with me, you’ll find up with a face full of--“

Stephen cleared his throat purposefully, but to Monica’s surprise kept them walking past Nathan and Wade. So they weren’t the last pair?

Oh. He didn’t say pair, he said person.

That dawned on Monica the moment she saw Maria Hill, sitting by herself, taking up one half of a Big Shirt. The former Director of SHIELD looked a little sad, if Monica had to be honest, and the expression changed only slightly when she looked up.

“Monica,” Stephen gently urged her forward. “Maria would like to talk to you.”

Maria cleared her throat, meeting Monica’s gaze with a look that could only be described as determined. “I know you haven’t seen me at my best, lately. And I wish I could tell you I’m better than what you saw, but...words don’t mean a damn thing. Actions do. And I thought at first maybe I could ask Dot or the Furies to vouch for me, maybe make it a little easier to earn your love and respect but Fury Sr. told me I wouldn’t have liked that. That it would mean more if I could show you who I am and you could find it in you to love me that way.” Maria took a moment to swallow, and she averted her gaze. “So...for tonight, would you sit here, with me, while you read? Give me a chance to show you that even if I fuck up, make mistakes, that I deserve a spot in your heart, too.”

Monica could feel the cloak around her seeming to perk up and look at her, to see what she would say, but Maria was looking at her again.

“Please.” Maria held up the other end of the shirt, and for a moment, Monica could see her fingers tremble. She was nervous. “Just give me a chance.”

Sometimes the fingers that pull the trigger get scared, too, and just need a hand to hold.

[sirius-archive]

Young gods Part 5

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, Regulus Black x Reader

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, description of anxiety. 

Word Count: 7486

A/N: This chapter is...oof. Just...oof. It hurt a lot to write the ending, but it has to happen this way. Anyway, I hope everyone had happy holidays and sorry for ruining them :/ Also THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO FILLS OUT THE TAGLIST FORM!! all of your responses have GIVEN ME LIFE i love you all sooooo much!

Chapter five: Silence or Turn to Stone

On the last day of term, Regulus Black finally makes a decision.

It may have taken over a month of awkward glances and a handful of uncomfortably quiet Potions lessons, but these things take time and you’ve always been a patient person. You also remember what Regulus is like; how he tends to pull things apart and scrutinize every tiny detail before carefully stitching them back together. He’s always been a deep thinker, cautious in his approach to life, a contrast to his brother who you don’t think has ever hesitated for a single moment before diving into the thick of things.

Still, it’s a breath of warm relief when you see him sidling over to you from across the Library, looking sheepish, uncomfortable and embarrassed all at the same time.

“Regulus,” you smile, eyes lighting up as he approaches.

“I thought you would have left with everyone else for Christmas?” He asks, surprised.

You close your book, rubbing your fingers across the smooth cover absentmindedly, “My grandma said that my aunt is staying with her for Christmas,” you explain, spinning your carefully planned excuse, “She wanted me to ‘stay with my friends and have a good time for a change.’”

Regulus nods in understanding. You tilt your head, examining him, “I thought you wanted to go home to your parents this year?”

Regulus swallows, his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip nervously, “Uh - Yeah, they wanted me to stay too…” He shrugs, clearly uncomfortable with the subject “Listen, I’ve been thinking about what you said and ...Um...And I...I believe you, now.”

You nod, brows raised expectantly as Regulus swallows and continues.

“I mean, I thought it was suspicious that you wouldn’t talk to me for years and then suddenly you decide you want to be friends again. But then I did hear about Kamilah and Sirius and I thought that...maybe...what you were saying was the truth.”

Your lips pull into a smile on impulse, without requiring much effort on your part, “You know, not everyone has ulterior motives, Regulus...”

Hypocrite, your conscience hisses.

Regulus sighs and nods, “Yeah, I know. I guess old habits die hard.”

Regulus slides his hands into his pockets, staring at his feet. There’s a moment of awkward silence between the two of you, where you shift uncomfortably in your seat and close the book in your hands. Finally, you break the silence with a flash of a smile.

“So, we’re friends again?”

Regulus rakes a hand through his thick, black hair, “Yeah. We can - erm - we can be friends again.”

Your smile broadens uncontrollably, watching as Regulus relaxed at the sight of it. He even manages a smile of his own; a quick flicker across his lips that lights up his entire face. 

You gesture toward the empty spot beside you, inviting him to sit. He accepts, smiling loosely, and you ignore the sharp, needle-point pricks of guilt that nip the edges of your chest, knowing deep down that this is all to help Regulus, not hurt him. And yes, you may detest his view on muggleborns, but perhaps your friendship could change that.

Maybe you could change that.

“What are you reading? Regulus asks, peering over at the book in your arms.

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” you reply, and Regulus raises an inquisitive eyebrow, “It’s a classic muggle book about a girl who falls into a rabbit hole and enters a crazy and strange new world.”

“Huh,” Regulus examines the book cover thoughtfully.

“My father used to read it to me all the time,” you say, reminiscing, “Every night before we went to bed, we read about Alice’s exciting journey down the rabbit hole. He was just as in love with it as I was. I think he was a lot like Lewis Carrol.”

You trail off into a brief silence, smiling as you remember the way your father used to act out each character. His impressions always had you and your mother in hysterics, especially his depiction of the Mad Hatter.

Regulus stares at the book curiously, then tears his eyes away, like he’s glimpsing st something he shouldn’t be. You glance between Regulus and the book, deciding whether to part with your beloved treasure of a book temporarily. Ultimately, you concede, and hold the book out to him.

“Take it,” you offer, smiling, “I’ve read it a million times.”

Regulus hesitates, uncertain, glancing between you and the book. Your smile broadens encouragingly. Finally, he takes it.

“Thanks,” he smiles, taking the book and running his hand across the cover, “I think I’ll enjoy this.”

“I know you’ll enjoy it,” you correct, smiling knowingly at him, “Sometimes, I feel like I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole myself, you know?”

Regulus stares at the book absently, as though he isn’t really reading anything.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, gloomily, “Yeah, I do.”

Silence swells between the two of you, contemplative and as grim as the greyish purple clouds bruising the sky, in which the pressure Regulus is under almost feels sentient like you could reach out and touch it. You’re tempted to cover his hand with your own as a sign of comfort, but you don’t want to let too much on. If he suspects you know something about his ‘trial’ then he’ll lose trust in you.

When Regulus speaks again, it almost feels unnatural, arbitrary given how intense the silence between you had been, but he shatters it with a meek invitation.

“I know it’s last minute but...We should go to Hogsmeade together this weekend,” Regulus blurts, before quickly adding, “As friends. To celebrate...if you’re not going with anyone else...”

You consider him, smiling, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The few rays of sunlight poking through the cluster of grey clouds in the sky are streaming through the tall windows of the library and are catching on Regulus’ lashes, glinting off the flecks of blue in his grey eyes. The similarities he shares with Sirius are evident, though there are deliberate mistakes. Where Sirius is more chiselled and sharp, Regulus is more muted. Sirius is more handsome, Regulus is more aristocratic, handsome in his own way.

But right now, Regulus looks remarkably different with sunlight in his hair and glittering in his eyes.

Regulus mistakes your measured consideration as hesitance, and he winces.

“We don’t have to!” He says, quickly, “It was a terrible suggestion, why would you want to go with me-?”

“-I think it’s a wonderful idea, Regulus,” you state, smiling gently at him as you cover his hand with yours, “We can go for butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks.”

Regulus flashes a dashing smile; it has the most peculiar effect on your heart.

“Okay,” he murmurs, tucking a lip between his teeth.

You smile at him, marvelling at how easy this is becoming, how easy the smiles are and the blushes and the furtive glances.

It’s almost as though it’s meant to be.

***

Later that night, you’re sitting with the Marauders plus Lily in the Room of Requirement when you tell them the news.

“Regulus and I are friends again,” you murmur, guiltily, averting your gaze from Lily’s bright green eyes and staring at your feet, “He approached me earlier today in the Library.”

James beams at you, clapping an encouraging hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Excellent!” He commends, cheerily, “Well done!”

As if sensing your discomfort, Lily ducks her gaze to catch your eyes, offering you a kind and gentle smile, “You did well,” she says, softly, “I know it’s not easy, but it’s for the greater good.”

You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling nervously. You nod timidly, knowing that, ultimately, she’s right.

Beside you, Remus takes your hand and gives it a tiny squeeze, as though transferring some of his strength to you. He turns to you and flashes a small smile, and there’s something so reassuring about the way it pulls the edges of his lips, like sunlight bending in water. It’s radiant in ways you can’t describe, but soft enough to put you at ease.

“We’re going to go to Hogsmeade together,” you add, “On the weekend.”

Remus’ smile falters at its edges.

“That’s great!” Peter grins, “The more one-on-one time, the better.”

“I should come with you,” Remus insists, firmly, “Um...I mean, Kaitlyn and I should come and make sure you’re okay.”

Lily agrees with a nod, “It would be good if someone came with you, just to make sure you’re okay.”

“But how will he open up to me when other people are around?” You ask, briskly, “I know Regulus, and he’s not going to hurt me right in the middle of Hogsmeade!”

James considers you, brows furrowed in thought, “You’re right. The more people come with you, the less inclined Regulus will feel to open up.”

“James,” Remus snips, tersely, “Regulus is a recruit. If (Y/N) goes by herself, she could be am–”

“-I’m not completely defenceless, Remus,” You snap, a little harsher than intended, “I know how to use a wand.”

Remus glances away for a moment, abashed, “I know, and I’m not doubting your skills as a witch-”

“-Sounds like you are to me,” you intercept, curtly. Remus continues with a sigh.

“I just...” Remus lowers his voice to a soft murmur, “I want you to be safe.”

You force a smile that you hope looks reassuring onto your face, “I’ll be fine, Remus. Please trust me to take care of myself.”

Remus sighs, the exhale heavy on his lips as he rubs his forehead anxiously, “Okay, fine.”

“She’ll be fine, Remus,” James says, giving Remus a knowing look, before turning to you and winking, “We have complete faith in you.”

James’ confidence and million-dollar grin settle the rest of your writhing nerves, and you can’t help the tiny smile that flickers across your lips.

“A word of advice,” Sirius chimes in from where he leans against the wall, partially draped in shadows, “Don’t try to be too pushy with my brother. He’s sensitive, he’s cautious and he’ll be able to tell that you know more than you should.”

“Well that shouldn’t be too hard,” James says, “(Y/N) is a very patient and gentle person.”

“And keep your guard up,” Sirius warns, seriously, “Don’t get too complacent. He’s been brainwashed by his parents, so it’ll take a lot of subtle convincing.”

Remus rolls his eyes, sardonically, “Would you like to take (Y/N)’s place then, Sirius?”

Sirius scowls, “Of course not you prat. I just want to make sure.... look, never mind. (Y/N), Just ignore the furry oaf over there, it’s nearly his time of the month and he gets moody.”

Remus opens his mouth to argue but Lily intercepts, briskly.

“I guess that concludes our meeting for tonight,” She says, clapping her hands together, “James, Remus and I can go and tell Professor Dumbledore the latest. Sirius, do you want to take (Y/N) back to her common room?”

You freeze.

No, no, no, no, no

Your heart skips, slips, and tumbles in your chest. You bite down hard on your tongue, tasting warm iron as it spills across your taste buds, but you don’t care, not really because all you can think about is that familiar, greasy wave of nausea pooling obnoxiously at the pit of your stomach.

“Um-” you squeak, ready to blurt out everything including your own anxiety because no he does not want to ‘take me back to my Common room’, no he certainly does not-

“-Sure,” Sirius shrugs, smirking lazily, “If (Y/N) will have me...?”

No.

No.

No.

“O-okay.”

“Great,” Lily smiles, glancing between the two of you. Remus looks uneasy.

“Does Sirius - I mean - do I have to come?” Remus asks, meekly, cheeks pink and eyes darting away. James snickers but falls silent when Lily shoots him a look.

“Of course you do,” Lily says, firmly, “You have to report back to Professor Dumbledore about Mulciber and Avery.”

“Besides,” James adds, “There’s that thing that we have to discuss.”

Remus frowns and glances at Sirius, who shrugs again.

“Prongs already told me.”

You shift awkwardly in your seat. Everyone in the room knows about this unspoken subject except you, which could only mean it's about you.

Remus glances between you and Sirius warily, his hand squeezing yours a little harder, almost possessively, “What about Peter?”

“Going with them, obviously,” Peter says, jabbing a thumb at James and Lily. Remus nods, but he still looks unsure.

“My God, Moony, anyone would think that I’d have to escort the queen to her palace. What’s the big fuss?” Sirius retorts, a wicked, almost knowing smirk on his lips. He earns a few appreciative sniggers from James and a laugh from Peter.

Remus sighs, exasperated, and rolls his eyes, relenting, “Okay, fine,” he snaps, tersely, “Fine, take her Padfoot.”

He flaps a hand at Sirius, who pushes himself off the wall and saunters toward you.

“Take the cloak,” James instructs, handing him what you assume is the Invisibility Cloak, “If we get stopped, we can just tell them honestly that Professor Dumbledore is expecting us.”

“Okay,” Sirius shrugs, then smirks devilishly at you, “Get over her, (Y/N).”

You move to climb out of your seat but Peter suddenly springs to his feet and leans in close to you.

“Um, before you go...” Peter blurts in a low whisper, “Is...is Kaitlyn...er...dating anyone? Or is she - um - is she going to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

You watch as Peter blushes an unflattering shade of scarlet and you tuck strands of loose hair behind your ear, embarrassed for Peter, “Um...I don’t know...sorry Peter.”

Actually, that’s not entirely true. You do know, but you don’t have the heart to tell Peter that he is definitely not her type.

Disappointment flickers across Peters' face as his blush deepens, shade darkening and soaking from his cheeks, down his neck and across his chest.

“Oh,” he murmurs, trying to sound nonchalant, “That’s Okay. Thanks anyway...”

You try to give him a reassuring smile before you leave him, approaching Sirius slowly. You wear a blush of your own; you can feel the heat as it burns up the curve of your neck and creeps uncomfortably in your cheeks. Sirius wraps an arm around your waist and reigns you into his side, holding you close.

“Ready?” He asks

Not really, you think, but you nod timidly.

Sirius drapes the cloak over your shoulders and you begin to walk out of the door and toward the Ravenclaw common room.

You and Sirius marinate in an uncomfortable silence, each second that passes feeling more and more awkward. You try to think of things to say but every futile attempt to attempt a conversation is met with a barrage of self doubt and anxiety.

What do you even talk about with boys anyway? You think about your friendships with Regulus and Remus, the only two boys you talk to without much effort, but realise that they have always initiated the conversation. If it were up to you, you probably wouldn’t even be friends with them if they hadn’t originally spoken up. Sometimes, it even feels awkward talking to them, especially when the conversation dies down and you feel like you have to say more. Its unnerving for reasons you can’t quite comprehend, but are forced to understand anyway.

“So how did you and Regulus meet anyway?” Sirius suddenly asks, curiously.

You swallow your nerves and speak honestly.

“Um on the train to - uh - to Hogwarts in our first year.”

“Oh...?”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, stretches, lingers.

“And how long were you friends for?”

“About two years.”

“Okay.”

More silence. Your brain scrambles for something to say but the more seconds pass, the more awkward it becomes. Sirius doesn’t seem to find it awkward, though. In fact, he’s keeping the conversation going.

“What happened between the two of you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You do mind him asking, actually. Not because you don’t trust Sirius but because talking about the past unstitches an old wound you’ve tried desperately to ignore. Still, Regulus is Sirius’ brother, who is in serious trouble, so maybe telling him will help somehow. 

“I noticed he started drifting to the Dark Arts and realised his intentions, so I-I ended our friendship.”

Saying it like that makes it sound so simple, but there were so many emotions involved in leaving your best friend behind. Watching someone drift to life you know they don’t belong in feels like you’re abandoning them or helping hammer a nail into their own coffins. But Regulus wouldn’t listen. His parents had reached into his brain and tangled all his thoughts, snipped them and turned them into strings so they could puppeteer their own son.

You guess that’s why Sirius - someone who’s far too stubborn and wild to be tamed - left when he could.

Sirius nods knowingly, “That can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t,” you answer, honestly, gulping down the lump in the back of your throat.

Silence. Unbearable, uncomfortable silence drowns the two of you in waves of discomfort. It loiters like a menacing shadow until you reach the common room and Sirius pulls off the cloak, grinning at you.

“This looks vaguely familiar,” he smirks, referring to the last time he had left you outside the Ravenclaw common room.

“I suppose,” you shrug, a small smile flickering across your lips. Sirius snorts.

“You don’t talk much, do you, Ashton?”

You shrug, biting down on your bottom lip and playing with a loose ribbon of hair. Sirius’ eyes glimmer in the low light.

“Hey, um…how’s…how’s Kamilah,” Sirius asks, suddenly looking sheepish.

Your stomach sinks.

“She’s…” you trail off, bite your lip, “Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t talk to her much anymore and I try to avoid her. In saying that, she kind of looked sad this morning before she left. Why? Aren’t you guys–?”

Before you can say the apparently offensive word, Sirius grimaces and interrupts you hastily.

“–We’re not involved anymore,” he blurts, quickly, “Things got complicated way too quickly and we…yeah you don’t need to know the details.”

You frown at Sirius, and to your surprise, something dark and malicious curls inside of you, like a serpent unfurling itself deep inside places you never knew existed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t use women as objects for your own entertainment, then,” you spit before you even realize what you’re saying, “I mean, I’m not friends with Kamilah anymore but she was clearly in love with you. How could you lead her on like that and then just end it…?”

Sirius raises an eyebrow, both surprised and impressed.

“I’m impressed,” he says, a hint of a smirk flirting around his lips, “and here I thought you were the quiet one. I guess you only talk when it’s important.”

You flush, your face hot and itchy.

“I’m just saying, Kamilah had feelings for you…”

“And I made it clear right from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for a relationship,” Sirius explains, “She agreed to it. In fact, she was the one who suggested we keep it on the down low so no one got confused. It was a mutual agreement to keep things fun but not get too attached.”

You nod, prodding the back of your teeth with your tongue thoughtfully. So Kamilah actually agreed to this, even though she was practically guaranteed to have her heart broken. How could she be so reckless with her heart? Logically, it doesn’t make sense, though Kamilah isn’t one to be logical when it comes to matters of the heart. Otherwise, she would probably never have agreed to such terms if it meant alienating her two best friends.  

“You know what you remind me of?” Sirius suddenly asks, and you nearly jump. You had been so tangled in your own thoughts, you had forgotten that Sirius was there, “You remind me of one of those Russian nesting dolls. You know the ones that you open up and there’s a smaller one inside and so on? Yeah, you remind me of one of those.”

You pin him with a questioning look, “Why - I mean - yeah, that’s what I mean - Why?”

“Because you have so many layers,” Sirius says, intrigued, “I mean, on the surface you’re the shy, good girl who probably spends most of her time trying to flatten out every kink in your skirt. But something about you tells me that theres so much more than that. For example, what you just said to me before, which was right in every way, but I digress. I’m curious about the type of person you are at your core.”

You blink at him, heat rushing to pool beneath your cheeks, “Um...”

“Anyway, Goodnight Doll,” he says, smirking, before wrapping the cloak around himself and folding into the night.

You blink at where he once stood, once again reduced to complete, baffled silence. Doll? Was that going to be his new nickname for you? You sigh and enter the Ravenclaw common room, both tired and confused.

****

“I can’t do this!” you whine, rubbing your forehead anxiously as you sit crossed-leg on your bed in the girls' dormitory. Kaitlyn sits beside you, rubbing soothing circles on your back as though trying to massage your worries away.

You release a sigh, fiddling nervously with your necklace, “I’m a terrible liar, Kaitlyn! And Regulus...he’s so smart! He’s a gifted liar! He knows what to look for...”

“Don’t think too much about it, (Y/N),” Kaitlyn advises, gently, “If you think about it, it becomes obvious. Part of the reason why he’s so good is because he’s a natural liar.”

You tear your fingers through your hair and tug on the roots, “But I can’t lie! It’s like there’s something wrong with me I’m just...shocking at it...”

“Well, you’ve managed to convince him thus far that you want to be friends, and you’ve been able to do so without revealing anything, so I’d say you’re doing pretty good.”

As she says it, Kaitlyn waves her wand around in the air and the projector screen sitting on the floor flies up and straightens against the wall.

“Listen, (Y/N),” Kaitlyn starts, seriously, “You have to do this, whether you like it r not, this is about Regulus’ life. All you have to do tomorrow morning is be is yourself, that’s the person Regulus befriended.”

You dig your teeth into your bottom lip and nod, fingers still restlessly threading the moon crescent pendant through your fingers. Kaitlyn’s right. She’s always right.

“Okay,” you breathe, “You’re right. I have to do this.”

Kaitlyn slaps a hand on your knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. She flashes you a comforting smile, setting your spiralling nerves at ease in that way that only Kaitlyn can. It’s strange yet beautiful how some friendships can transcend those borders and enter a stage where you’re closer than sisters.

Kaitlyn releases your knee and ambles toward the giant bean bags, collapsing into one. She looks like she’s sinking into a giant marshmallow, three times her size, yet it molds to her body and gives the impression that she’s being hugged by a cloud.

She looks over you and winks, smirking broadly. “Now get your ass over here and watch a movie with me!”

You grin at her, all your worries disappearing out the window and make your way over to where the bean bags are gathered around the large projector screen, dropping into a bean bag. The bean bag embraces you with phantom arms that promise comfort and relaxation and you sigh like you’re sinking into a hot bath.

It’s a lot larger than Kaitlyn’s – you suspect Kaitlyn had got a double bean bag instead of a single for some unknown reason since you’re significantly smaller than Kaitlyn – but you don’t argue or complain. In fact, it’s rather luxurious, though you’re not sure how you’re going to get out.

Since it’s just yourself and Kaitlyn in the girls' dorm, you had spoken to the Muggle Studies Professor about borrowing the projector to watch Christmas films, to which she had graciously agreed. With a few muggle movies and a lifetime supply of treats from the kitchen, you and Kaitlyn settle into the insanely large and irresistibly comfortable bean bags, ready to watch your first film.

A knock at the door temporarily hinders those plans.

“I’ll get it!” Kaitlyn exclaims, excitedly. You laugh hysterically as she struggles to pull herself out of the beanbag, her arms and legs flailing wildly in the air. You’re about to ask if she needs help when she finally heaves herself out of the bean bag, panting.

Grinning goofily, she springs to her feet and dashes toward the door, tearing it open excitedly. She and the visitor have a mumbled conversation that you can’t quite hear, and you’re just about to somehow peel yourself out of the bean bag and see what’s going on when Kaitlyn steps away and–

And–

Remus Lupin steps into the room, smiling broadly.

You hadn’t seen him since the meeting you had with the Marauders earlier that week, and to be honest, he looks terrible. Pale and exhausted looking, Remus looks as though he needs a giant hug, a huge mug of hot chocolate with dozens of marshmallows (just the way he likes it) and a twelve-year nap. But his smile, wide and radiant, chases away the weariness so evident on his face, almost like sunlight breaking through stormy clouds, and you can’t help but smile back at him.  

“Remus!” You chime in surprise, struggling to get out of your bean bag, “I – argh – haven’t seen you for so – ugh – so long.”

“Not so funny now, is it?” Kaitlyn smirks.

You roll your eyes and double your efforts to climb out of the beanbag but it’s like struggling against a rip; the bean bag seems to swallow you. Remus smiles amusedly and holds up a hand.

“Don’t worry about getting up,” he chortles, “That bean bag looks like it’s about to devour you in one bite.”

You sigh, surrendering to the bean bag, “Yeah, Kaitlyn picked it. Anyway, how did you get up here? I mean, Rowena Ravenclaw cast protective charms on the girls dorm to stop boys climbing up them?”

A daring grin pulls Remus’ lips, and for a moment, he resembles James Potter.

“Well, all charms have a counter-charm,” Remus replies simply, almost devilishly, “It’s just figuring out which one works.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head in awe, “You should have been a Ravenclaw.”

The apples of Remus’ cheeks stain a light shade of pink, “Yeah, the Sorting Hat wanted to put me here but I think James would have dragged me back to Gryffindor tower the first chance he got.”

“I believe you,” Kaitlyn smirks, arms folded across her chest, before unfolding them and clapping her hands together, “So, Remus, let's get down to business. There are cakes and sweets over here, a few bottles of butterbeer over. Help yourself!”

While Remus strolls toward the sweets table, you take the opportunity to question Kaitlyn.

“You invited Remus?” you whisper and Kaitlyn grins, “You didn’t think to ask me, first?”

Kaitlyn’s brows crease in mild confusion, “Remus is your friend, too. Why is it a problem?” a knowing smirk suddenly fills across her lips, “Unless you fancy him?”

Your stomach tightens into a thick knot.

“I do not fancy Remus!” you snip, angrily, “He’s just a friend–”

“Where am I sitting?”

You turn to Remus and realise that there is no extra bean bag and with you having the biggest of the two–

“You could sit with (Y/N)?” Kaitlyn suggests, grinning wickedly, “It’s big enough for the two of you.”

You shoot Kaitlyn a nasty look, catching onto Kaitlyn’s devious schemes. She had deliberately set this up, positioned every pawn carefully on her chess board.

Remus doesn’t seem to notice this, though, and he flops down beside you, sighing as he settles in the bean bag. His knee brushes against yours, the warmth of his body seeping through your clothes, and you bite your tongue on a gasp.

Your heart flutters stupidly when your arm brushes against his, your face warm with an embarrassing blush.  

“So, what are we watching?” he asks, glancing at you, but you quickly turn away before he can notice your flushed cheeks.

“We were thinking A Christmas Carol and then A Miracle on 34th Street,” Kaitlyn answers as Remus takes a swig of his butterbeer.

“Ah, classics,” he grins, lips glossed with butterbeer.

Kaitlyn flicks her wand and the projector whirs to life, the lights dimming, throwing the room into a warm ambience.

A Christmas Carol begins to play, the characters caught in a world of black and white as though trapped inside a snow globe, but as the film follows Ebenezer Scrooge’s adventures, you can’t seem to focus on any of it.

Remus is a furnace of warmth and comfort as he sits beside you, as though he had bottled up autumn and used it as an expensive cologne. Sitting so close to him feels different in this setting, and you’re not entirely sure how or why. You had always sat close to him during free periods, where you’d spend hours studying together. Why should it feel any different? Why can’t you enjoy a movie with Remus without feeling awkward or embarrassed? And why was Kaitlyn so insistent with her baseless theory that you liked Remus?

You had a crush on Sirius. Sirius, who is ridiculously handsome and charming and witty and intelligent, and he was the embodiment of every teenage girl's dream; he rode a motorbike and smelt of smoke and whiskey and adventure and he–he–

He…dated your best friend for five months. In secret. And maybe he didn’t know what he was doing but it still hurt in ways you couldn’t even begin to describe…

You have to admit that things are different now, not only with Sirius but yourself. How had you even managed to say more than three words to Sirius, let alone confront him about his playboy habits? It was as though the words had tumbled from your lips without actually realizing what they meant. You probably wouldn’t have that kind of confidence again…and certainly not with Sirius…

A soft snore issues from Kaitlyn’s beanbag. You glance over at her and smile, finding her curled into a ball like a cat, fast asleep.  

“She’s asleep?” Remus asks, amusement in his voice.

“Yeah, she is–” You whisper as you turn back to him and you nearly gasp, suddenly aware of how close he is. Remus seems to notice this and tries to shift but the bean bag only pushes the two of you closer. You both laugh nervously until Remus gives up and leans back in the bean bag, resting his head against your trunk.

“Have you read the book to this?” Remus asks, nodding at the movie. You smile and nod.

“I read it every Christmas. One of my favourite things about Christmas, actually.”

Remus considers you for a moment before he turns back to the screen, “I really love this film but…I don’t know…there’s something about the book that contains certain magic the films can’t quite capture.”

“Isn’t that the case with most film adaptions?” you ask and Remus nods in a ‘Touché’ manner. You smile at Remus, eyes studying him for a moment longer than necessary, lingering on the curve of his lips as they quirk into a smile, and the weight of your worries seem to tear up between your ribs like a long, blunt knife and puncture your heart.

Your expression must have shifted because Remus notices and he places a hand on yours.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” he asks, concern heavy in his voice, and after a moment of hesitation, you reply.

“I’m just…” you trail off, not sure how to describe it. Is it fear? Confusion? Guilt? Or all three? You sigh, and Remus seems to read your words without you even saying them.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Remus murmurs, softly, “These are trying times and you have a big task on your shoulders. But you’re not alone, we’re here for you…” After a short pause, a smile flickers on Remus’ lips, “I’m here.”

You smile warmly at Remus, wondering how you got so lucky, and rest your head on his shoulder, feeling his arm drape across your shoulders, holding you close.

****

Hogsmeade is beautiful this time of year.

Sheets of snow are draped over the picturesque village, bathing the town's center in clouds of fluffy white. Fairy lights have been strung between the buildings, sparkling like constellations that have been stolen from a midnight sky and stretched across the town. The whole village seems to bask in the warmth of that joyous Christmas glow, excitement mingling in the air with the sprinkling of snowflakes.

You smile as you walk beside Regulus, your hands in your pockets to keep them warm. Your breath crystallizes before you in plumes of mist, reminding you of how you used to pretend to be a fire-breathing dragon when you were eight or nine. Now, you can appreciate the beauty of it, as well as the aesthetically delightful beauty of the winter wonderland around you.

“Do you want to go anywhere first?” You ask, smiling softly at Regulus.

“Nah,” Regulus shrugs, “Let's go and get a Butterbeer.”

The two of you trudge toward The Three Broomsticks, which is full of cheery patrons. You peer into the window and glance at Regulus nervously. He doesn’t seem to notice your unease, so, mustering every ounce of courage deep inside of you, you follow Regulus into The Three Broomsticks.

It hits you like a sharp slap of icy air, stinging in your chest. Dozens and dozens of people stand around, laughing boisterously, cheeks flushed from the alcohol as Madam Rosmerta bustles past them. Your nerves tingle like a warning signal, screaming at you to leave while you still can as someone shoulders past you, and you feel like your diving head first into cold water, like the walls are inching closer, closing in all around you, and you can’t do this, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t!

“You have to do this, whether you like it or not,” Kaitlyn’s voice says in your ear, “This is about Regulus’ life.”

You can do this.

You have to.

Regulus finds a table near the back exit and tells you to wait while he gets you some butterbeer. You oblige all too willingly, slumping into your seat and trying to focus on your breathing. Your fingers fiddle with your necklace, white gold passing through your fingers like a ribbon of moonlight while you take a mental tour through your body.

Starting at your toes, you close your eyes and you make your way up your body, focusing on different points and using your senses to tap into your body. You feel the way the floor presses up against your feet, how the leather of your seat feels beneath your touch, how each one of your vertebrae connected to your spine is pressed against the back of your seat, how the subtle chill of a wintry breeze breathes a gentle, crisp sigh against your cheeks.

Finally, you reach the top of your head, where the sharp prickle of tension seems to lessen as you focus on how each individual strand of hair pokes out of your scalp like an endless field of wildflowers. Your breathing has slowed at this point, to an easy inhale and a gentle exhale, pulling air in then pushing it out in a never-ending cycle.

You open your eyes.

Regulus is already sitting in front of you, staring intensely.

“Better?” he asks, handing you your butterbeer. You flush and duck your chin, accepting the mug.

“Yeah,” you breathe and Regulus nods.

“Good.”

Silence settles between the two of you as you enjoy your butterbeer, the noise of the rowdy crowd now reduced to a hum in your ears. Butterbeer always has a profound effect on you and coupled with your little calming technique, it sets your feelings of ease aside, like clipping a mad dog onto a leash for just a little while longer.

“No Kaitlyn today?” Regulus asks, glancing around.

“She’s with Peter Pettigrew,” you explain, “I think he asked her to go to ice skating or something.”

Regulus arches a brow, “I didn’t realise he was friends with a mudblood…” You frown at him and Regulus looks mildly confused for a moment, as though using the racial slur is now second nature to him, but then he realizes and flushes, “Sorry, Muggleborn.”

“If we’re going to be friends again, we have to lay down some ground rules,” you snip, sharply, and Regulus nods.

“Of course.”

“One, you have to at least try to get on with Kaitlyn,” you say and Regulus winces.

“I…don’t think she likes me…”

“She doesn’t like most people,” you shrug, casually, “But she will consider you if you make an effort.”

Regulus seems hesitant but he nods anyway as you continue, “Two, you have to stop calling muggle-borns that word. It’s a racial slur!”

Regulus opens his mouth to argue the point but decides against it, choosing to nod silently.

“And finally, no more dark magic.”

Regulus’ eyes snap to you, widening, “But I don’t practice dark magic…”

You bite your lip, hoping that’s true and not just another lie, “Yes, I know. But in case you’re tempted to…”

Regulus nods in agreement, his expression oddly blank, as though he’s stretching the skin of his face into a look of apathy.

“Okay.”

He extends his hand and you take it, shaking over the table. You lock eyes for a long, lingering moment, in which you think he may never tear his gaze away from yours. But then his eyes drift to someone over your shoulder, and before you can follow his gaze, he pulls his hand away.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Regulus asks, nervously, glancing around at the drunken patrons crowding the place, “It’s getting a little crowded in here.”

You couldn’t agree more.

“Yes,” You practically cry, “Please.”

Swiftly, Regulus guides you out of The Three Broomsticks and into the back alley. He swings the door shut.

“Thank goodness,” you sigh, breathing in the cool air, “Fresh air.”

A smile pinches the corners of his lips, but it looks a little lopsided like he’s been practising something that should come naturally.

“It gets way too stuffy in there around Christmas,” Regulus says, putting his hands in his pockets, “So, where to next?”

You shrug. Decisions have…never been your area of expertise.

“I don’t really know,” you mumble, shrugging again, “Wherever you want.”

Regulus pauses in thought for a moment, “How about the Shrieking Shack?”

You frown at him, “The what?”

Regulus bleats a laugh of disbelief, “You’ve been to Hogsmeade how many times and you still haven’t gone to the Shrieking Shack?”

“That’s…not that creepy, haunted house?” you ask, slowly, dread inching up your spine and Regulus nods, “Oh…well…if you want.”

Regulus nods shortly and begins heading toward the Shrieking Shack, scaling the slope.

According to Kaitlyn, the Shrieking Shack hasn’t always been haunted, but some sort of horrific crime had occurred there seven years ago, something so grisly and cruel the village refuses to acknowledge it. They’ve boarded it up to avoid any vengeful spirits escaping and attacking the town, so the spirits, vexed and seething, let out painful wails, as though forced to relive their torture every month.

That’s what the village believes, anyway.

You and Regulus follow the twisted, overgrown path through the dense forest, distancing yourselves from the safety of the village. When you arrive outside at the fence surrounding the Shrieking Shack, Regulus turns to you.

“I suppose you’ve heard some of the stories about the Shrieking Shack,” Regulus says and you nod.

“Someone got murdered here or something,” you murmur, flicking a nervous glance at the crumbling house and wondering if the spirits can hear you. It feels weird, daunting even, talking about the events that have given this house its reputation while standing just outside of it.

Regulus shrugs, “I don’t know. But something is stuck in there against its will…like it doesn’t have a choice…completely alone…”

Regulus trails off into a sombre silence, his eyes glinting with something you’ve never seen before. You’re about to reach out and touch his shoulder when Regulus turns to you, his eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he murmurs, “I need you to know that I never wanted this for you...”

“What do you–” you’re cut off when you collapse to the ground, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

It’s like you’re being pulled apart at the seams, stretching your cells apart and rupturing them. Like one thousand hot knives are carving canyons down the middle of your skull, splitting it open, blood spilling out and staining the snow. Like something is trying to claw its way out of you, scraping seven-inch nails up your ribcage and puncturing your chest.

The pain devours you, tearing your grip on the world away from your trembling hands as time and space seem to blend into one agonizing blur, and you try to scream but your shrieks of pain die in the air, as though it had gotten lost somewhere between your lungs and your lips, and you writhe in the snow, feeling it soak into your clothes, but it stings, like shards plunging into your skin, burrowing deeper and deeper, digging into your bones, into your soul–

“Well done, Regulus.”

You can only just register the hoarse voice of Mulciber; it rings in your ears and bounces off your skull like bullets. As he approaches, you notice the hungry expression crossing his face as he directs his wand at you.

“Now, take over from me. Prove yourself to the Dark Lord.”

Regulus’ hand trembles as he raises his wand, his mouth twisting and twitching like he’s trying to add a voice to the curse, but all that’s coming out is a gurgle at the back of his throat.

“Go on, Regulus,” says a new, greasy voice, “Otherwise I’ll take over from Mulciber.”

Avery steps into view, crouching low. His face looms over you, his gaze travelling hungrily over you, eyes like the open mouth of a starving, black hole. He trails a finger down your cheek, gripping your chin tightly.

“I bet she’ll cry,” Avery hisses, “She looks like a crier.”

“Leave her alone,” Regulus growls, his voice like distant thunder, “This is my trial, not yours.”  

“Make us,” Mulciber sneers at Regulus, and a fresh wave of pain washes over you, dragging you under.

A scream sears up your throat and bursts from your lips as your knees buckle, your bones suddenly too weak to support you, the all-consuming pain returning to tear you from the inside out. Your vision blurs, brain short-circuiting, as your body weeps, your energy dwindling.

A shadow ripples across the world of grey and white painted before your eyes, tangling with Mulciber and Avery’s silhouettes into a knot.

Suddenly, the pain vanishes, replaced with a soul-shaking throb. Your body, wrung out and weary, feels boneless against the snow, but you’re too tired, too weak.

The world dims, dark jaws unhinging, devouring you.  

You let it.

@whysoseriouspadfoot @ashkuuuu @sly-vixen-up2nogood @hervench @rageofcaliban @amelya5567 @hylianhighlander @lousimusician @randomoutsiders @littlewriter55 @jackie-houston @sirius-lysad @marauderskeeper @royalmaknae @yllwtaxi @trumpettay @lilaccoveredteapot @evyiione @swim-deep-or-die   @pugsandcuddles @tamosbien @xrosegoldwolfx @clockworkherondale @dude-whatawave @avipshamitra @saturnaah @reimiwritrs @tchalland @mckjnnon @lucifersnipnips @reducto-bitch @bluskai @socialheartbreak @heliopvth @who-said @mhftrs  

[dfroza]

the Spirit within acts as a deposit of things to come

that will be…

just as an engagement ring

(A pure seed)

marriage itself on earth reflects upon the eternal tapestry of a heavenly marriage to come as a secret elopement away from this world. and there is a beautiful mystery in the way our Creator made the body of a woman to become as “One” body with a man as a lifelong commitment of trust. sex is sacred and is only meant for marriage as a safe space shared in this bond.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 3rd chapter of the Letter of First Corinthians where Paul reflects upon planting a pure seed and the body becoming the Temple of the Spirit:

My brothers and sisters, I cannot address you as people who walk by the Spirit; I have to speak to you as people who tend to think in merely human terms, as spiritual infants in the Anointed One. I nursed you with milk, as a mother would feed her baby, because you were not, and still are not, developed enough to digest complex spiritual food. And here’s why: you are still living in the flesh, not in the Spirit. How do I know? Are you fighting with one another? Are you comparing yourselves to others and becoming consumed with jealousy? Then it sounds like you are living in the flesh, no different from the rest who live by the standards of this rebellious and broken world. If one of you is saying, “I am with Paul,” and the other says, “I am with Apollos,” aren’t you like everybody else? So who is Apollos really? Or Paul for that matter? We are only servants, agents who led you to faith, and the Lord commissioned each of us to do a particular job.

My job was to plant the seed, and Apollos was called to water it. Any growth comes from God, so the ones who water and plant have nothing to brag about. God, who causes the growth, is the only One who matters. The one who plants is no greater than the one who waters; both will be rewarded based on their work. We are gardeners and field workers laboring with God. You are the vineyard, the garden, the house where God dwells. Like a skilled architect and master builder, I laid a foundation based upon God’s grace given to me. Now others will come along to build on the foundation. Each serves in a different way and is to build upon it with great care. There is, in fact, only one foundation, and no one can lay any foundation other than Jesus the Anointed. As others build on the foundation (whether with gold, silver, gemstones, wood, hay, or straw), the quality of each person’s work will be revealed in time as it is tested by fire. If a man’s work stands the test of fire, he will be rewarded. If a man’s work is consumed by the fire, his reward will be lost but he will be spared, rescued from the fire. Don’t you understand that together you form a temple to the living God and His Spirit lives among you? If someone comes along to corrupt, vandalize, and destroy the temple of God, you can be sure that God will see to it that he meets destruction because the temple of God is sacred. You, together, are His temple.

Don’t let anyone deceive himself. If any one of you thinks he is wise in matters pertaining to this world, he is going to be really disappointed. In fact, one must be deemed a fool by worldly standards in order to become truly wise because the wisdom of this rebellious and broken world looks like foolishness when put next to God. So it stands in Scripture, “He catches the wise in their deceitful plotting.” And the Scriptures add, “The Lord knows the highest thoughts of the wise, and they are worthless.” So there is no reason for anyone to boast in human leaders. You already have it all. So whether it is Paul, Apollos, Cephas, the world, life or death, the present or the future—it all belongs to you. You belong to the Anointed One, and the Anointed One belongs to God.

The Letter of 1st Corinthians, Chapter 3 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 38th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah which documents a poem written by King Hezekiah:

Meanwhile, back in Judah, Hezekiah became very sick and was about to die. Learning of it, Isaiah, Amoz’s son, went to visit him.

Isaiah: Here is what the Eternal One has to say:

Eternal One: Get your affairs in order. You are going to die. You are not going to recover from this.

Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and started praying.

Hezekiah: Eternal One, I beg you to remember how I have followed the path You set before me, and how I did so with all my heart. Remember how I have done what You wanted with sincerity of purpose every step of the way.

Then Hezekiah broke down and wept. He wept and wept. Then a different word from the Eternal came upon the prophet Isaiah.

Eternal One: Go and tell Hezekiah that the Eternal, the God of your ancestor David, says: “I have heard your prayer, and I have seen your tears. I’ve decided to add another 15 years to your life. Not only that, but I will also rescue you and this city and not allow you to fall under the control of the Assyrian king. I Myself will protect this city, Jerusalem. You’ll know that I, the Eternal One, will keep My promise by this sign: I will make the sun’s shadow—which has climbed these steps of Ahaz’s stairway—go backward 10 steps.”

And the shadow on the stairway moved backward 10 steps. When Hezekiah, king of Judah, recovered from his illness, he composed a poem.

Hezekiah: I thought for sure in the prime of my life

that I’d been brought to the gates of death,

that I’d miss out on the rest of my years.

I thought: That’s it. I will never again see the Eternal in the land of the living.

I will never again enjoy the company of those alive in this world.

My time on earth is folded up and packed away like a shepherd’s tent.

It’s as if a weaver has snipped me off from the loom and rolled me up.

From day to night You bring my life to an end.

I stay calm until morning arrives,

then like a lion He breaks all my bones.

From day to night You bring my life to an end.

Oh, how I argue and mourn for my passing life!

Like a swallow or a crane I twitter;

like a lonesome dove I moan.

My eyes become bleary from looking up to the heavens for help.

I cry, “O Lord, way up high, I am oppressed; come and help me!”

But what can I say? God has spoken to me.

Things are as He made them.

So I am determined to go slowly, make the most of my years,

even though I am bitter to the core.

But I so wanted to live! So I prayed, “Lord, by these things, people live

and my spirit is grounded in the same.

So heal me, let me live!”

Paradoxically, my bitter experience was pushing me toward wholeness.

For You, God, have put behind all my shortcomings and wrongdoings.

You have rescued me from death.

You pulled me from a black hole of nothingness and held me close to You.

And so I join the living in giving thanks to You.

After all, thankful voices never rise from the land of the dead.

After all, the songs of praise never soar from death’s dark realm.

Those who go down into the pit—that great black nothingness—

They can’t even begin to hope for Your faithfulness.

But ah, the living! And I am among them today,

giving praise and thanks to You for life,

The old telling the young about the loyalty of Your love.

The Eternal will rescue me,

and we will break out the stringed instruments.

We will sing and make music for the rest of our lives,

right here in the house of the Eternal.

Isaiah instructed the physicians to apply a compress of squashed figs to the boil on Hezekiah’s skin to help him recover.

Hezekiah: When will I know that I am well enough to go to the Eternal’s house? Is there a sign I should look for?

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 38 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, july 16 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about new identity:

At the time of his baptism, the heavens were torn open and the Spirit descended on Yeshua like a dove. The Heavenly Voice then proclaimed: "You are my son; my beloved: my favor rests upon you" (Mark 1:11). The Voice from heaven not only validated Yeshua's ministry before the others, but it more radically revealed that the blessing of his relationship with God - his chosenness - was something we could ultimately know as well: "You are my beloved child; my favor rests upon you." The Voice was given for our sake -- so that we might know (John 12:30).

Baptism, after all, represents being identified and immersed with God's life: it is like a rebirth or a "crossing over" from the realm of this world to that of the realm of the spirit; from the old to the new... When we hear (shema) the Heavenly Voice within our own hearts saying, "Fear not; you are my beloved child: I have chosen you to know me," you come alive to inherit the blessing of knowing God as your Father, your Abba, your friend...

"O heavenly Father -- O Abba -- help me to know myself as your beloved child, chosen and forever loved by you from the foundation of the world... My heart yearns for you; from the inmost depths do I need you; I cry out; my heart aches, for your blessing is this: that my heart would know you, and that in my great need you would forever be my beloved, my life, my beginning and my end, my all in all. Amen." [Hebrew for Christians]

7.15.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

July 16, 2021

Whom Shall I Fear?

“The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1)

Think back to your youngest childhood days. Do you remember being afraid of the dark? Were you scared when your parents turned off the nightlight?

Flash forward to more logical adult fears—thieves, natural disasters, negative bank account balances, unemployment, public speaking, shark attacks, political turmoil, and death. While some of those fears may seem far-fetched, there are other fears you might encounter that will truly drive you to your knees in prayer.

How would you respond to life-threatening persecution? What if your children recant their faith and abandon everything you’ve taught them from Scripture? Could you handle the loss of loved ones and all of your possessions?

The Bible is filled with examples of faithful believers who suffered (Hebrews 11:36-38). Many of the sorrow-filled Psalms were written by King David. But he wasn’t the only subject of fear, suffering, and trauma. Perhaps you are reminded of Job. He was a godly man. Yet the Lord allowed Satan to torment him, removing nearly every good thing from his life (Job 1:12; 2:6). How could he respond in faith to the One who protected his soul?

In today’s text, David draws our hearts to what Spurgeon calls “a threefold cord which could not be broken.” The Lord is our light, salvation, and strength. And then he asks two rhetorical questions: “Whom shall I fear?...Of whom shall I be afraid?”

With the Lord on your side, you need not fear anyone or anything. His love for you is sure and steadfast. Nothing in the entire universe—darkness, disaster, demons, or the devil—can separate you from His love (Romans 8:38-39). MH

A tweet by illumiNations as a collaborative effort of global Bible translation:

@IlluminationsBT: Meet one of our illumiNations partners - SIL @SILintl. Learn more at: https://www.sil.org

7.15.21 • 12:03pm • Twitter

[slut-for-fandoms]

Little witch (Part 12) Finale

Pairings: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 1 570

Summary: The reader is raised by Hydra but manages to escape after they kill her parents. She is emotionally unstable and can’t control her powers. The Avengers rescue her and give her everything she missed form life and wanted to feel. But would her new found love be enough to extinguish her desire for revenge? What would be the side she would choose to rely on?Will she be ready to face the real her?

A/N: So here is the finale chapter to Little Witch. I want to thank you for the support and than you spent time reading it. It means so much to me ♥As it is the finale I’m really interested what you have experienced through it. Please let me know about your emotions while reading part 12 ♥ Enjoy! ;)

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6// Part 7// Part 8// Part 9// Part 10// Part 11

It was a cold day in Queens. The seasons were changing and the period between summer and fall was usually rainy and sometimes blowy. The weather was representing the state of Peter’s soul. The grayness of the clouds reminded him of the tragic which happened some days ago. He was on the edge of dying, hugging his beloved one while falling in the depth of the eternity. Some months ago, if he had been asked about his opinion about death, he would have answered that it trilled yet scared him. And it would have been normal, he would have thought. Accepting the fact that death was imminent was important especially when you were a superhero. You would never know at which corner a man in a black robe would be waiting for you. But now, he was feeling strange. As Spiderman he had been hurt, that’s for sure, but he had never been close to death. The events from last week were blurry but the emotions not. (Y/N)’s face was in front of him all the time – then, when he was falling and holding her and now standing in front of the grave. Her (y/e/c) eyes filled with tears and love had been enough to persuade him that death would not be that terrifying, that when you are dying for or with the person you love nothing else matters.

The slightly muggy weather just before rain made the boy sweat, although he was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt and the sudden wind made him shiver. But the weather wasn’t the only thing sending shivers down his spine. Peter was at the Calvary cemetery in Queens. He was standing on a small hill separating him from the large number of graves in the centre of the place. This cemetery is known for having the largest number of interments and yet the grave he was standing in front of was away from the mass of stones.

Rubbing his shoulders in order to warm, he couldn’t stop thinking about what dying actually was. It had affected him, of course. Peter had never believed it would be so…releasing. Two months ago he was just a boy desiring for a diverse world. A world where he could be a hero, Spiderman, savior. A world where the nerdy Peter Parker wasn’t existing and the bullies were gone. Two months ago a girl stormed into his life with a tragic past and a spark of hope in her eyes. A girl that turned his life upside down.

A cold raindrop fell on his face and returned him back to reality. He was staring at the gravestone before him. The part where the ground had been dug was going to turn onto mud. It had a green frame around from grass which was mowed every day. This made him think that within seconds a hand would craw out of the depth and he was ready to turn tail and go away from this place. He had been to a funeral and cemetery before, when his uncle died, but this was the first time he felt his ears burning.

The funeral was small and nobody was surprised as only the avengers were there. It was a rainy day like today as though the weather condition was influenced by the team’s mood.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”, Peter’s voice broke the silence as though cutting it with a knife. It was painful although the funeral had taken place three days ago.

It was nobody’s fault that this happened. It was imminent but his heart was tearing when looking at the grave.

“I’m sorry, too. I wish the things had gone different from the beginning.”, a soft and cold hand slipped in his one. He tightened his grip around it still frightened he would lose it. Biting his lip he turned his head to see the person next to him.

Locks of hair were flying around a pale face not letting the boy see its expression.

“I lost somebody and yet I don’t feel sorrow. ”, the pale hand tightened, too. The person turned around finally showing Peter eyes filled with tears, “I sound like a monster but I- I”, the voice was enough for Peter to understand the breakdown which was on the point of happening. He turned around and hugged the fragile creature. Burring his head in those locks, he managed to forget about the reality for a moment.

“She was a monster, Peter. I hate her for the things she did to me and yet I love her as she was my mother.”, (Y/N) burst out in tears. She had hugged Peter and was looking at the grave in front of her, “I didn’t inter the person who turned my life in hell, I buried the mother I lost when I was seven. I knew I had lost her then, even though I was told she would come back and hug me. I am here, saying goodbye to the woman that used to love me and I used to think about at nights when scared to fall asleep. The woman that was coming to my bed singing lullabies to lull me into sleep.”

Each word that escaped (Y/N)’s mouth were like daggers in both their hearts. Peter knew what it was to lose somebody you love. To stay alone at night hoping you would see them again, you would hug them and the darkness would go away. But this wasn’t the reality they were living into. Darkness was more than the light.

“I hate this.”

“What do you mean, Peter?”

“I hate that we have to face death at such young age. And I don’t mean when we were about to die (Y/N).”, they were looking in each other’s soul while the tears were rolling down their faces, “I lost my parents and uncle and I still can’t get over it. I hate this world that takes everything I love away.”, gulping he tried to remove the frog in his throat and speak again but the tears and feeling of sorrow were slowly overwhelming him.

The little witch was taken aback by his confession. They were just kids trying to live in this world but it kept tearing them piece by piece. When (Y/N) woke up in the hospital she didn’t know how to feel. Regret? Maybe, as she had been tortured all her life. Pain and sadness. Dying was a way to escape the chains of agony keeping her here. But then she met Peter. The nerdy and sarcastic boy that showed her the light at the end of the tunnel. The boy showing her that love and family were real things. The boy giving her hope to continue to fight. That was why when she saw Peter sleeping on the uncomfortable chair next to her bed, she felt happy. The dark hole she wanted to fell in wasn’t an option anymore. She was alive both outside and inside.

“You are right. But isn’t it the thing that keeps you going? Isn’t it the thing that turned you into a superhero sacrificing yourself so the other won’t feel the same pain as you?”

Peter was acquainted with this fact but it still hurt sometimes. He remembered the night he lost his uncle and the day when (Y/N) lost her parents. It was Amanda who tried to kill them and yet the little witch in his arm found the courage to bury her. She was her anchor that kept her through the tortures and at some point she had lost it. Without it and a hope you could not survive in this world. Peter had gone through the same and knew that she was feeling as though she would collapse and he desired to be that anchor keeping her up.

“Yes, that was my anchor - keeping my aunt safe and making my beloved ones proud. It was what keep me thought rough times.”, a smile cracked out on his face as he leaned closer to the girl, “or at least that was until some months ago.”, (Y/N)’s confused face lighted up Peter’s.

“I have something else to fight for, darling. And that’s you.”

“I love you Peter Parker. Now and forever.”, the little witch beamed as finally she saw the world differently from the hell she was used to watch every day. She knew that becoming a hero wasn’t an easy job and that pain would be next to her as a best friend but as long she was shining from the inside the wounds on her body wouldn’t matter.

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). ” leaning closer the couple in love shared a deep and powerful kiss. It was a gentle and slow one but inside both of them were burning of the sensations, “Now and forever!”

Life was a bitch, as Tony would say, but nothing was better than it. Happiness, torment, love, death, anger, lust, tears, smiles. That means living. You get to taste from them all. Sometimes you are in a dark abyss and see no reasons to fight but sometimes you meet somebody that lends you their hand and gives you hope that life is worth it. Peter and (Y/N) were acquainted with what death could offer them but still they didn’t prefer the bizarre and luring taste of freedom from darkness to the sensations they bodies and souls could feel in this world.

@thevanishedillusion  @philautia-love-of-self@purplekitten30 @itscalledfandombitches @legendarydazekitten@spookymaddie@sammysgirl1997 @1akemi5 @ichbinannaaa  @livegreater-loveharder@briannareneea985 @nyu-kun69 @b-orderline @lucifersimapala @fav-fan-fic @devilsdaughter1225 @ora-la-few @alaskayoung-x @myurlhere@xameliax66 @flammy-whater @shadowmaiden1618 @rainbow-pandacorn @kat-rivalle @thesaraaaaahpfan @laura2280 @rainbowcherios@b0byyy @shannonxgabriela @coolmarvelgirl@permanent-lines @thefallenbibliophilequote @yummyphoenix39 @kaitlynthehuman@justcuchu@lovingrevolution @also-known-as-me @reddie-freddie-is-deaddie@ashleykh@m0ck1ngjayl0v3 @pastelbronagh @tomxhotland@legitgirl15@funsizedgremlin@onceuponateenpanwolfian @seilamigliorcosacheabbiamaivisto @kawaiipanda2005@isnow-0r-never@kenziecole-green @brokenwingsxix@thatcrazywhovian09@charlotte-of-the-enterprise @bitchhstopp @rory-is-in-ravenclaw @winchester-15@shadowmaiden1618 @baka-chanismyname@ugghhjessica @superflashallen@isnow-0r-never @siriuspadfoot14 @-lilacnialler- @lunastarwatcher @the-rad-mad @mysanityisgone27 @follwing-the-shadows@kenziecole-green@thatcrazywhovian09 @bethabear12@ekjane @johnsonxstilinski@africanqueen2002 @alitmelati @ too-many-fandomfeels @sai-kida134@babyhollands @shmeebee94 @jeanneir@awesomehappypirate@danielisnotonbranding thequeerishere555 @pigwidgexn @canciones-que-salvanvidas@lannanu @laura2280 @kidensdouble88 @kenziecole-green@bethabear12 @kawaiianime03 @somixedbasic @whyrallthegooduserstaken @ofsouplucia @anali-022506 @bvguzman @ultrawholockedunicorn @human-writes-and-arts @terrashrone @everythingiliketoshare @extreme-supernatural-lover @shmeebee94

[turnloosethelibrary]

ASCENSION, THE FIRST

By Cee

Fire was destruction. That was why Callidia respected it, even though she couldn’t spend more than two minutes around an open flame without getting the shakes. It had set her free one cold winter night like a bird from its cage. At first, her family had assumed she’d perished, then they assumed she’d set it. Neither were true but she had seized upon the destruction of 546 Illiger Way to leave town. It wasn’t like, in the glow of the night, she had anywhere else to go. She called up her best friend on the payphone and told him to tell anyone else who was tired of the confines of the town, even if it were for a reason completely different from hers, to come around, the bus leaves in an hour. A few of them did and they boarded a bus to nowhere.

None of them were certain when, two years on the road, they crossed into another world. There were no flashing lights, no rabbit holes to fall in or tornados to take them away, they didn’t get lost or swept overboard or get swallowed whole by an earthquake. Maybe the first sign was that the sky was just a bit more purple than usual, the air just a bit more sweeter, but that could’ve been chalked up to being on a whole new coast, so far away from their home. Nothing about the new world was particularly new, nor interesting.

Then, they met the talking black fox, guided by a butterfly made of fire and any explanation they had crumbled away.  “Welcome home, young ones.”

The first reaction to a talking fox is generally a rapid fire list of all the things one has consumed in the past forty eight hours, to rule out food poisoning or drugs. Being that Calli had only had a few apples and some bread, she felt pretty safe to say that it wasn’t a hallucination. She felt like she should freak out, after all she could hear Quincy’s rapid breathing behind her, along with whispered questions of disbelief but the fact that some foxes could talk settled deeply in her heart, like the fact that some boys (like Quincy) wore make-up or some girls (like Aislinn) believed in tarot. She bent down, out stretching her hand. She read once that in order to get a dog to like you, you had to let it smell you. She wasn’t sure if the same thing would be said for a talking fox but it did push its head into her hand so she figured it was close enough.

“Hello there,” She whispered softly. The fox looked up at her with orange eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as it spoke again. It sounded young, high-pitched, almost like a child.

“You five have travelled far, but you have so much further to go. Come! Follow me! The Elements are gathering and wish to see you.” The fox bounded off, then looked back at them, twiching its tail.

“This is crazy, we can’t do this.” Suzy broke the silence that had partially fell, her drawl trailing behind her thoughts.

Calli shrugged, “Well, do you want to waste time wondering how it’s possible or do you want to figure out where we are?”

“Both? I feel like both will be very ahuh, helpful.” Quincy spoke now, running his fingers through his hair.

“Look, okay none of us understand this, but either we freak out, or we try to understand what’s going on and quite frankly, I think I’ve had enough freaking out for a lifetime, thank you very much. I’m going to follow him. Y’all can stay here if you want.” Callidia crossed her arms, making no motion to leave. She became a de-facto leader in the winter time, when their food bags would get low and she hoped that the trust that position brought would let them follow her. She didn’t want to go through whatever the forest brought alone.

Quincy, Aislinn and Suzy shared a glance of equal concern. Jason stood a little straighter and grinned, “I’m going to follow you, sweetheart. I trust you.”

“Any other complaints?” Calli cocked her head, looking each of her friends in the eyes in turn. “Then let’s go.”

The people the fox took them to professed to be Gods. Calli had a hard time believing that, until she saw a man rise from the earth and a woman fall from the sky, landing perfectly. She backed away from them, closer to the fire. They were impossible beings, with hair that seemed to move of its own accord, hair not made of keratin but with their respective elements. The woman who fell from the sky chose Aislinn, sweet Aislinn with her habit of staring off into space and talking about things that could not be. The man who rose from the earth chose anxious Quincy. One with hair of water chose her beloved Jason. Calli didn’t see who chose Suzy.  It didn’t seem that there was to be anyone for her. She backed away, closer and closer to the fire.

Then she stopped. She had run into something solid and it felt like a scene out of an old horror movie as she turned her head. A man stood there where before there had been nothing but the hot flames.  He laughed cruelly, until he saw the fear in her eyes and the way her shoulders rose to her ears and his laughter died off. “Hey now, it’s alright. Just a prank, my dear, just a prank.”

She stepped away to appraise him thoroughly. His hair was made of fire, though she wasn’t certain if that was because he had seemingly just stepped from it or if it was a personal aspect. Her throat tightened at the thought that this would be her - she hadn’t even realized what they had been chosen for.

They were Gods and they were the Elements and they were going to raise them to ascend.

The man who took her in told her to call him Jayvin, though his subjects called him the Lord of Fire. She liked knowing his true name, it made her feel just a bit safer in this foreign element, strange in more than a few ways. He noticed her discomfort around the open flames, and so moved her bedroom further away from the central chambers and higher up, where there was more smoke and ash, but less live fire without her even having to ask. He didn’t seem to be a harsh or cruel man, but for the first few nights when she moved in she stayed awake, still and staring up at the ceiling so she would be ready to defend herself if need be.

Time passed oddly in that world, and she wasn’t sure if she had been there days or weeks or months or years. She didn’t know when she last saw the Chugs, and she missed them but she knew they were most likely off in their own adventures, finding their place in this strange new world.  She studied history of the world because she loved learning. That would’ve been a great surprise to any who knew her in her old life but there was none of that competitive hierarchy that made each lesson a game of memory, not of comprehension. Each day was paced exactly how she needed it. She learnt of the foxes and the dragons and the other creatures that fell under the Lord Fire’s commands.  Communications between her and Jayvin were few. He was far busier than she was, though he did try to spend at least dinner with her.

“Soon,” He said each night, “soon I think you’ll be ready to learn magic.” That seemed far more impressive to her than learning of how many wars the Elements had gotten into over their respective times. There had been ten cycles of Elements, and hers was to be the eleventh - a holy number by Jayvin’s old books. It made her feel luckier about the whole affair.

He took her to a razing one long day. An entire length of forest was found to be hazardous, quite possibly cursed. The only one hundred percent remedy to either of those was a complete burning. He left her on a hill, close enough to see what was happening, but not so close that she was in danger of being burned, though he warded the hill, just in case. Once the boundaries were set and the fire was started, Jayvin walked up the hill and sat next to her. They were quiet for a long while, just watching the blaze, the grass turning bright then a dead black.

“This is one of my least favorite parts of it.” Jayvin said softly. “The destruction.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because otherwise this land would be inhabitable. With each razing, comes the chance for life to renew again, for potential to blossom. That’s why Rev doesn’t despise me each time I must destroy part of his kingdom.”

Callidia nodded, that seemed honorable enough. “Am I going to have to do that one day?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The flames turned blue, reached their apex. It now had nowhere else to spread but back into itself. Soon it would be out, destroying itself as it had destroyed the trees that’d grown in that cursed ground. She shuddered, tried to act like her throat wasn’t closing up. She didn’t want to be the kind of person to do that, even if it were necessary. It seemed so sad.

“Here now,” Jayvin drew her attention away from the fire burning miles away to one in the palms of his hands. “I wouldn’t have survived so long as an Element if it were all razing and doom and gloom.” He seemed to form a butterfly out of the fire in his hands, carefully pushing it into open air. It floated there, streaming auburn flame. It reminded Calli of the Monarch butterfly she’d seen once on a hot summer day.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” She asked, eyes wide. She followed each amber spout.

“When you’re ready, of course.”

“Will I ever be?”

“I guess we’ll have to see.” Jayvin smiled lightly,  “I think you will be. Tomorrow, maybe, or the day after.”

She pulled her legs up to her, hiding a grin. He was annoying, surely he knew relaxing around the fire wasn’t an option for her but.. maybe, maybe she’d get used to it. Fire was destruction, but it was also creation and renewal. It was burnt houses and growing leafs and it seemed to her it was the first family she ever knew.

[killr-cupcake]

Dangan Thieves AU: Mikan Tsumiki

YO *Fits head through a hole on the door*

Ever since the second fan made submission to the AU belonging to @shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl I’ve been thinking about Mikan

So here, take itttt

~

Mikan Tsumiki, the ultimate nurse from Hope Peak’s Academy, she sees her existence as a nuisance to others and will do anything for people to like her, but can we trust her after being under brainwash for a while?

Arcana: The lovers ~“My beloved forgave my existence and I gave her my heart, but she didn’t want it, nor gave me hers” Those were her words after breaking free from brainwash, we need to make her see she is just as worth as anybody else

Codename: Heartbeat

Outfit: She uses her hair tied on a low and messy ponytail with a monochrome broken hairtie and a nurse hat with a cross and the same heart, she also uses a lab coat that resembles the one from her remnant of despair counterpart but it opens up at the waist and extends to her ankles, the buttons are Crosses and she wears a tight purple skirt under, she also has a medical mask and her usual bandages alongside high socks that have cross patterns on the sides and nurse shoes (Thanks mobile for not letting me add pics)

Mask: A regular mask that is shaped like two horizontal hearts, a black one and a white one with a break between them

Persona: Aceso, the Greek deity of the healing process

Skillset: strong healing and buffs, her very last ability grants her finding an enemie’s weakness but stuns her until her next turn, good gun damage that stacks weaknesses on enemies if they’ve been found yet but weak against curse and charm

Initial weapons: Melee: A medical bonesaw Ranged: An SMG that uses syringes as ammo

All-Out attack card: It’d be fairly similar to the one she had at sdr2’s intro theme with the words “I’m sorry” written on cursive (Haha all doctors write badly whatever)

Persona awakening scene

After being an obstacle for an entire dungeon, the gang finally makes her see what true love and friendship really is

Mikan: My beloved forgave my existence and I gave her my heart, but she didn’t want it… Nor she have me hers in return… She didn’t care about me… I-I… *Breaks down crying until the Persona Heartbeat™ happens*

Aceso: Poor innocent child, you were tricked with the heart into obeying a force of evil, now you are left behind, broken, wounded, but it’s not your fault, you should know the very act of existing should be cherished

Mikan: I-I’m not a burden… True friends w-will like me for who I am and not f-for what I can do…

Aceso: Just like many others, you need to learn and you need to heal, I will assist you along the way, I am thou, thou art I, the contact is sealed for the sake of helping yourself and helping others, at the end of the path, you and the ill will be healed entirely

Mikan: I don’t need forgiveness for what is not my fault, the past broke us all in pieces and we need to learn, heal and be better for the future, p-please help me Aceso!

~

Quotes

“A-Are you alright? It wasn’t very tough but still…”

“We need to take some care after all of that, we should go to the safe room”

“I-I think I’m getting better at this…!” (Level up)

“I can be very useful n-now!” (Skill up)

“I wonder what’s in the chest… Make sure to use protection opening it!”

“I’m worried… W-We’ve been here for a long time n-now”

“A-Ace, I t-think we need a break so I can check up on everyone”

“P-Please let’s think about this first! It seems very dangerous”

ENDURE: I-It’s fine, I’ve had it worse than this…

PROTECT: S-See? I can be very useful as a shield!

BATON PASS: Yes! I-I’ll do anything you want me to do

LOW HEALTH: I’m sorry! Please forgive me!

GETTING HEALED: Th-This is embarrassing hehe

PHYSICAL ATTACKS: Sorry, we’ll have to amputate

HEALING SOMEONE: There you go! / I’ll patch you up! / Lots of shots!

PERSONA: I need you Aceso! … I-If it’s not trouble for you…

FOLLOW UP: I’ll provide medical assistance!

COVER FIRE: P-Please be more careful

GIVING BUFFS: Let m-me help with this

ATTACKING: D-Don’t be angry, just leave us alone…

ATTACK MISSES: *hic* I can’t even d-do one *hic* thing right, I’m *hic* sorryy…

COULDN’T FINISH OFF ENEMY: A-AHH! I tripped over I’m sorry…

FAINTING: The… Despair…

GETTING RESURRECTED: T-Thank you! It was dark and cold like space…

Burn: AH…! I’m burning just like my heart used to

Cold: I-I hope I don’t catch a c-cold or frostbite *achoo*

Shock and Paralyze: P-Please forgive me for not moving! / Th-This brings unpleasant memories…

Confusion: HUH? huh, huh, huh, huh, huuuuuuuhhhh…?

Rage: Forgive me already! If you don’t I’ll cut you open and make you watch!

Despair: M-My beloved… I miss my beloved so much…

Dizzy: Ngh… My ears’ balance fluid…

Brainwash: ah… hahaha… ahahaha…

Forget: … W-What?

Hunger: T-This is bad, I need nutrients to burn into energy…

Sleep: zzz… Ngh don’t move… Zzz

Silence: …

Mouse: …

~

Mementos chats

“This might sound presumptuous but you’re getting better at driving… Slowly”

“Mm… Sometimes seeing my bonesaw reminds me of bad times…”

“This place looks very dark and scary… Well at least I’ve been in worse”

“Weaknesses are a little complicated… But she taught me how important it is to find them and exploit them…”

Hajime: Say Mikan, what do you like the most about being a Dangan Thief?“ Mikan: … Being with all of you

Chiaki: I like your weapons Heartbeat! Are they referencing Mister Ludwig and Miss Valentine? Mikan: W-Who…? Umm… I-I mean yes! I-I’m referencing a-anything you like Bonnie!

Fuyuhiko: Yo, Mikan, how sick do you have to be to kill someone so painfully? I mean, stabbed endlessly by small syringes is some next level shit Mikan: I-I learned that on top of being painful when mishandled, many fear syringes and sometimes it’s good to exploit fear and pain to your advantage…

Mikan: I-I’m so sorry for what I did before joining y-you… I-I’m surprised you *hic* even trust m-mee… *hic* Chiaki: No matter what you or anyone does Mikan, we’ll always believe in each other, especially me

~Bonus dialogue, choosing a codename

Hajime: So, what should we call Mikan? She needs a codename to be a Dangan Thief

Mikan: ummm, I still can’t b-believe you’re taking me in…

Nagito: How about nurse? It’s her talent from Hope’s Peak after all

Hajime: No, it’s too literal

Chiaki: How about psycho nurse?

Fuyuhiko: Can we not? Look, she’s got that heart theme all over her costume and all of that so we should start there

Nagito: Heart, heartbreak?

Hajime: Again, too literal

Fuyuhiko: Maybe pulse?

Chiaki: Hey Mikan, is there a medical them for a heart disease that would make a good codename?

Mikan: W-Well, arrythmia is a term used to describe an irregularly fast heartbeat that could kill you a-and when you’re in love or in shock your heart starts going really fast too

Chiaki: No, it’s too complicated… I guess medical terms are too difficult

Hajime: *Clearly after solving a sdr2 minigame* How about heartbeat? It’s not too complicated and it fits your style and what happened to you

Mikan: A-Ah! Yes I like it, t-thank you very much Hajime!