#for the record the chapter count here has been changed to protect the innocent or something like that

[marmolita]

is there anything worse than opening up a fic that's labeled as like 7/7 chapters on AO3, and then five chapters in you're like, how is this going to wrap up in two chapters? and you go check the tags again but it's not tagged as unfinished or anything and it definitely says 7/7, so you continue reading

and then chapter 7 is just a page saying "yeah I'm never gonna finish this fic sorry"

[justforthesakeofitt]

How You Like That (M) Chaelisa (top rosé bot lisa)

Chapter 1

hi. this story contains many mature and adult themes that can be triggering and are just for fictional use. i don't condone any of this in real life, and this is pure fiction. so, therefore, if you can't handle that, please just leave this. but don't report this story. 

enjoy 🤍

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(warning. contains strong language, human trafficing, mentions of degradation, corruption, meansé, topsé, idek but the story in general is dark and mature. so if you can't handle that please don't read!!)

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roseanne smirked and swirled her glass around that was filled with her favorite champagne. the armand de brignac brut gold, which cost a mere two thousand two hundred dollars, had made it into the woman her favorite lists, when she tasted it for the first time when she was in France, at the age of nineteen. it made her feel as if she was drinking creamy silk with a lovely flavor, and she was all for that.

her silver hair, with a blueish undertone, was straightened and hung down

her back and over her perky breasts. the tint of her hair matched perfectly with her lamé velvet jacquard mini dress by one of her favorite brands, saint laurent. the dress was a perfect size, as it had been custom adjusted, and hugged her slim waist yet pretty wide hips quite well.

she was seated alone in her comfortable chair, her three bodyguards surrounding her so that she was protected at all costs. being rich had its many perks, but it also came with lots of downsides, such as constantly being exposed to the cruel world that was playing underneath everyone's feet. normal people usually weren't aware of half of the things that were going on behind the scenes of the portrayed world.

the dim and sensual lights that were present in the room, contradicted quite a lot with the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. it seemed as if a night club had meet merged with a dining hall in an expensive mansion, yet they somehow made this entire look and vibe work.

and it was dangerous to know these secrets. behind all the glimmer and glamour of being rich, a lot of dark poison was hiding. and simply being aware of the poison, and knowing about how everything was really being run, was dangerous.

it was dangerous knowing which big companies, who were known for their customer service, actually had ten thousand upon then thousands of illegal so-called 'contract workers' working for them. people in the normal projected world thought that the people working for the minimum wage were being treated as slaves and inhumane, but they never saw the layer of people that were working even lower up than the minimum wage workers. and those were plenty.

billions upon billions of dollars would go down the drain if someone were to reveal that the biggest vegan chain in the world, also owned one of the biggest meat industries. if the companies that were known to fight climate change and induce eco-friendly ways of making products were owned by the same person that was one of the biggest carbon emitters.

if people know, that you know their secrets, your life is at great risk. and since the richest people in the world, all play the same game, you always had to be on your watch. this was no soccer game, where you had a theme behind you. this was like wrestle mania. only the strongest and smartest could survive. and the people that you would think are your friends, are the ones that wouldn't even hesitate to hire an assistant the moment they find a weak spot in you.

"number 603 thirty thousand dollars! going once. going twice. sold to miss kang!"

roseanne chuckled as the blonde girl got pulled off of the stage by her leash that watched attached to her neck. her head hung low and tears were streaming down her face as you could see them shimmer in the dim lights,  which made it all more amusing for the woman.

all of them looked like pathetic little lost puppies, getting pulled one by one to the stage where their new fate would be laid out for them. it all depended on who they ended up with.

her best friend, jennie, had found her own little pet this way and had suggested it to her. after years of being alone, and watching her best friend with the girl, she decided to finally come and see for herself. maybe she'd find something interesting here tonight. 

jennie's pet, who's name was jisoo, was quite a lucky girl. while jennie was quite a mean and tough person on a daily basis, she had developed a soft spot for her pet. it wasn't that she let the girl get away with shit, but she treated her well. better than these girls usually got treated.

jisoo had behaved so well and served her so graciously, that after one and a half year of her possession, jennie had granted her the privilege of being addressed by her name, which was quite rare for the girls that came from here.

not may of the owners ended up granting their pets the status of being called by their actual birth-given name, and rosé wouldn't be one of them either. while jennie was more of a dominant woman who loved for jisoo to worship her and take care of her, roseanne was the sadistic type. 

where jennie received pleasure by letting jisoo worship her feet and have the girl smothered underneath her wet dripping slit, eating her out until her thighs were trembling and she was panting heavily, roseanne wanted the girl to be laying at her feet, whimpers escaping her cracked lips as bruises and cuts were layered on her skin. 

the twenty-seven-year-old woman's eyes gravitated towards the podium once again, before she slightly shifted when she saw the girl that got pulled by the thick leather leash. 

her black lingerie contrasted beautifully with her pale skin, and her black hair had been put into two sideways ponytails with big red bows attached to them. that could only mean one thing.

she was a virgin.

girls with their hair loose were previous prostitutes or whores that they picked up from the streets, giving them the lowest value in the entire lineup.

girls with ponytails were normal girls that they managed to kidnap but weren't virgins anymore. 

but girls with their hair in this innocent style, and cute bows attached to it to give

them an even more pure look, were virgins.

and they sold for the highest prices.

almost everyone wanted a little virgin pet. it was a thrill knowing that all they would associate sex with was their owners. no previous partners or experiences to draw

comparisons from. 

just them.

when roseanne saw the girl's face, her doll-like features with her big doe eyes, and her plump pink lips, she knew that the girl was going to be hers.

"number 209! her price starts at a mere five hundred thousand dollars. who bids higher

than that?"

chaeyoung immediately held up her bidding board that had her slim fingers wrapping around the wooden part, "one million!"

another voice rang through the room, a few seconds later, with an offer of one and a half million dollars. but this girl was going to be hers. no matter the cost.

the bidding went on for a while before her offer rang throughout the room of "twenty-five million dollars." 

the man, that previously was bidding for the same girl, chewed on his bottom lip before shaking his head.

a smirk grazed roseanne her dark blue colored lips, "number 209 twenty-five million dollars! once! going twice! sold to miss park!"

her eyes locked with her newly bought pet, and she mindlessly licked her lips. the girl's eyes were glossy and looked with a terrified gaze at her. 

"yes...--" chaeyoung muttered to herself with s grin, "--be scared, doll. you aren't ready for what I have in store for you."

there were only a few girls left, so she patiently sat through it all, satisfied with her purchase of the evening. non of the girls could top her pet. and for once, she was glad that she had listened to jennie's advice.

after the auction was over, she walked to the back and got handed two briefcases by one of her bodyguards, which she delivered to the woman that was behind all of this.

"you made jessie very happy. i hope the girl will make you happy too."

roseanne hummed and watched as the men were counting the money, before turning her attention back to the woman in front of her, "everything is clean right? no traces. no record and no evidence."

jessie nodded and smacked her bright red lips together, "everything is clean. we tripled checked. the police have already been paid to drop the missing person case, so she has been declared dead. the parents are quite poor too so they won't be able to afford to search for her or take any legal actions. she's dead and has been reborn the moment you bought her."

roseanne smirked and, with a firm handshake, greeted the woman before she made her way into a dark hallway that led to where the girl should be.

she opened the door to a room and saw a black wooden crate, which had been sealed by a lid at the top, sitting on the floor in the middle of the room.

when she saw that it was the correct one, she snapped her fingers, making two of the three men quickly make their way over to the side and lifted up the top.

she once again, almost immediately crossed eyes with her toy, and saw how panicked and vulnerable she seemed. this made her feel only more in control and boosted her ego.

there were soft pleading whimpers coming from the bound girl, but she ignored them completely.

after a few seconds of further inspection, the crate got closed again.

"deliver her in an hour to my address. make sure that she keeps whatever bodily fluid she has inside of her. i don't want her to arrive in filth at my place."

she got helped into her thick fur coat, and flicked her hair back, before putting on a peeked black cap.

the men nodded in understanding and turned their attention on the crate. one of them followed her, also functioning as her driver, while the other two stayed behind.

there were two small holes on the top of the crate in the cover, which made sure that the girl got enough fresh air to stay conscious, but not enough to make her feel great, so the chance of her throwing up or peeing herself was a big possibility.

she just hoped that the girl could hold it in, as she was sure that she wouldn't hesitate to hose the poor thing down immediately. 

she climbed up the stairs before walking outside. 

\\\

it was dark, already around the one at night, so the streets were fairly empty. these illegal legal things, were mostly done at night, just to give extra security and privacy.  "ready miss?" her chauffeur asked making her nod, "yes. take me home."

she stared out of the window, the snow slowly cascading down while the streets of Seoul were already covered in a thick layer of the frozen crystals.

it was only november, yet the heavens had sent them snow already. and to be fair, roseanne wasn't complaining. 

she smiled as she started to move up the hills, knowing that she was approaching her lovely home.  

her and her best friend, jennie, were actually neighbors, which was quite fun. this meant that she could show her new purchase off very soon, as all she had to do was go to the mansion next door. even tho it was a five-minute drive.

the moment the car stopped at the entrance of her house, she got out, hugging her black fur coat tighter around her body, before grabbing her purse and made her way inside.

"the room is ready right?" she asked one of her maids, who nodded and bowed slightly, before helping her out of her coat "yes ma'am. it is exactly like you wanted it to be."

she grinned and stretched herself before yawning a bit and walked inside.

"good. now, all we have to do is wait."

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[backtothestart02]

Mixed Drink - 20/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: And so it begins. (Next chap will start looong flashbacks to Iris’ entire backstory.)

Commissioned by @andromidagalaxie

...

Chapter 20 -

Wally watched as his sister fell apart before his eyes. He hadn’t seen her like this maybe ever, or at least not for a long time. She practically crumbled, feeling around for a chair away from where he was standing so he couldn’t see. That irked him a little, but they had been in the middle of a fight. It was no wonder she didn’t want him looking on to see her in such a vulnerable state.

When her breath hitched and the chair leg squeaked across the floor though, he forgot about their fight entirely, even all the bitterness that he held against her, and just wanted to hold her. He might be her little brother, but he was still her brother, and brothers protected their sisters from being hurt.

For the first time in years he felt a stab of guilt over him being the one who was hurting her for so long.

The thought faded, although the feeling didn’t, when he saw his sister end the call, literally trembling now with the information she’d been given.

“Iris?” he asked hesitantly.

She slowly turned around.

“You need to go,” she said on a shaky breath.

His brows narrowed. “What? Why?”

“Because I need to go, and you can’t be here after I leave. I have to lock up.”

That sounded rational. He relaxed.

“But also, I really don’t want to see your face right now.”

His brows locked together again.

“Because?” He scoffed.

“Because the last thing I need to worry about right now is what you think of our past and our relationship and all the shit I’ve done to our family that has you loathing the very sight of me. Even though you were the one seeking me out tonight, so-”

“Forget that,” he said. “Who was on the phone?”

She blinked, suddenly enraged that he was playing the concerned brother card after so many years of pushing her away.

“That’s none of your business,” she spat.

“But it’s your business.”

She scoffed. “Which makes it not yours.” She shook her head. “Asshole.”

She started moving past him, but he stopped her before she could get too far ahead.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, noting the tear tracks staining her cheeks.

“Because-” She huffed, pulling herself free from his grip. “Fine. You want to know why I’m crying?” Wally nodded. “Because my boyfriend just got shot and is in critical condition. I’m going to the hospital, so you need to leave.”

“Wait.” He took a step back and halted her again. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”

Her eyes widened and jaw dropped in disbelief.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“Wait, Iris-”

“It’s time to go, Wally. We can talk about…whatever this was supposed to be another time. The longer you stay, the longer I have to stay, and the more time there is before I can see if my boyfriend is going to be okay or if he’ll be long dead before I’ve finished talking with you.”

Her voice was still shaky, but there was determination in it now. She was done giving explanations.

He sighed, exasperated.

“Shouldn’t… Shouldn’t you take someone with you?” Her eyes blazed. “I mean, I could-”

“You?!” she asked incredulously. “You don’t give a shit about me and would probably judge the hell out of my boyfriend. I’m not telling you where I’m going or letting you come with me. That’s final.”

He stared her down, so Iris scrambled to come up with an answer he’d accept.

“I’ll call Stacy. She’ll meet me there, I’m sure of it.”

He didn’t like it, but he could see he wasn’t going to get any further with her tonight, and he did have his own relationship to worry about. Jesse hadn’t exactly been pleased when he ran off with her recorder after listening to the tail end of the recording.

“Fine.”

He took a step back and headed for the door. Once outside, he jumpstarted the conversation again.

“But you’ll call me if-”

“I will not call you. Go salvage your relationship, if you can, and tell Jesse she can go to hell too. You don’t go into a meeting with a source without asking them if it’s okay you can record them. She’s a real bitch for that one.”

“Hey-”

“Leave, Wally. It’s what you’re best at anyway.”

That shook him to the core. He watched her lock up and push past him and knew a sense of defeat unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

“Iris!” he called before she was too far away, but she kept walking.

He knew she heard him because there was a brief pause in her step when he called, barely noticeable to any innocent observer, but he’d seen it. Of course, he’d seen it. He knew her. She was his sister. And they used to be best friends.

If only he’d known that night 10 years ago would change everything…

The near silent creak of the door opening started to wake Wally up in the middle of the night. He mumbled something in his sleep and shut his eyes tightly. There was not a robber at his door. It was impossible.

“Psst. Wally.”

Oh, thank God. It was just his sister.

He moaned, still half-asleep.

“Wally!” she whispered a little louder, so he sighed and pulled back the cover, propping himself up on his elbow. He reached for his glasses and pushed them on, squinting in the darkness.

“What?” he croaked.

Iris slipped into his room and closed the door quietly behind her.

“Shh, Mom and Dad will hear you if you’re too loud.”

“They’re at the other end of the hall,” he said, dropping his head back into his soft pillow.

“Wally!” she yell-whispered.

He groaned. “WHAT?”

She came and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Should you be asleep?” he complained.

“Not tonight,” she said, practically giddy. “Tonight we’re going on an adventure.”

Wally opened one eye to see her beaming. Despite himself, he was intrigued.

“What kind of adventure?”

Her teeth shone brightly in the moonlight streaming through his window.

“We’re going to break into Dad’s office.”

“Huh?” he asked, worriedly. “Why would we do that?”

“To grab some of his files, obviously.”

“But why-”

“I need it for my class. You don’t need to know the details.”

“I do if I’m going to get punished for it!” he squeaked.

She rolled her eyes. “You won’t get punished. I’ve planned it all out. Now are you in or are you out?”

“What do you need me for?” he grumbled.

“As a look out, of course. I need someone smaller than me-”

“I’m not that much smaller,” he interjected, much to her annoyance. At 16 she’d stopped growing, but at 12 he was only about a foot shorter than her.

“You’re small enough,” she retorted. “I told my friends you’d have no problem, that you weren’t an absolute scaredy-cat.”

“I’m not!” he whined, and she clamped her hand over his mouth.

“I know you’re not.” She smiled slowly. “Thanks for coming through for me, buddy.”

“Wait.” He pulled her hand down. “I never said-”

“Meet me in the kitchen in five,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “Trust me, Wally, you’re not going to want to miss this.”

He took a deep breath as soon as she left, and very reluctantly started to change his clothes. He had a very bad feeling about this, but Iris was his sister, and her ‘exciting plans’ usually amounted to something great. He wasn’t going to chicken out this time.

Wally brought himself back to the present and looked ahead to see his sister disappear just around the bend. Some old resentment rushed to the surface, but so did his stubborn returned need to be there for his sister, and to find out who the hell this boyfriend was.

He could listen to the full recording to find out more possible details, but he knew he’d have to talk to Jesse too. She’d been a natural in her Journalism class since it started. He knew she was a math and science genius, but the way she interrogated and softened in the same breath made him wonder if she’d be more suited as a lawyer or a journalist than an engineer or scientist.

It would be hard though. They hadn’t exactly parted on loving words.

“Go to hell, Wally!”

He winced. Time to grovel and then scheme, just as Iris had taught him.

…

With shaking fingers, Iris pulled her phone back out and called her go-to number in all things end-of-the-world.

“Come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up…” She gnawed on her bottom lip, eager to get to her place so she could grab her car and head on over to North Central City Hospital where Felicity had told her Barry was on the way too.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. First he gets mugged that first week she saw him, and now he’s shot? Just what kind of job did he do and how did Central City suddenly get so violent?

It hardly mattered at the moment, but it was a nagging voice in the back of her mind that she knew she’d have to come back to when all of this was over.

“Hello?” came the chipper voice of one Stacy Conwell.

She knew she could count on her to still be up at almost midnight.

“Stace! Thank God you picked up.”

“Iris?” Stacy’s brows furrowed on the other end. “What’s wrong?”

“Barry’s been shot.”

“What?!”

Iris nodded, tears escaping her now.

“His co-worker just called me, said it happened on the job. She didn’t have many details to share, but I guess there a freak shooter that just came in and Barry was trying to protect people when he was caught in the line of fire.”

“Oh, my God.” Stacy thought frantically for a moment. “Where are you?”

“A couple blocks away from Jitters.”

Stacy frowned. “I thought your shift ended earlier today.”

“It did. I was just-” She was barely holding back tears, so Stacy aborted her line of questioning.

“You know what, you can tell me later. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“Yes, please.” She sniffled. “He’s at North Central City hospital.”

“Shit. That’s not close.”

“I know, I know!” Iris cried.

“Okay, stay put. I’m coming as fast as I can. Alright?”

Iris nodded and sniffled again. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Yeah. No problem. See you soon, Iris.”

Iris ended the call and huddled against the building she was nearest to. It was pitch black outside, streetlights the only thing keeping the city from falling into complete darkness. It was cold too, and Iris hadn’t brought a coat with her.

Barry’s face flashed before her eyes. Their kisses, their little moments, his love declaration, their dirty texts… Three weeks with this man, and she was already hopelessly in love with him. This couldn’t be the end of their story. She refused.

Unfortunately, when she tried to make her mind think of something else, all it kept going back to was her conversations with Wally and Jesse.

The nerve of that girl, making her think she had the best of intentions, that they were kindred spirits, that she wanted to bring her family back together, when really she… Well, Iris didn’t know what Jesse was up to, but it couldn’t be anything good if she’d planned to record her without her consent. That was the kind of scandalous thing… Well, that she would’ve done before everything got shot to hell.

She’d been so prepared tonight to share everything, to delve into her deepest, darkest secret, known only to the West family, to who was a complete stranger to her. She’d been a fool to think this girl was trustworthy. But in thinking about what she was going to say, it really started to take her back. She’d thought on those memories with regret and distaste but also longing for what had been.

She’d been in high school when it began, in her junior year at Central City High. She’d just enrolled in a Journalism class and found herself fascinated by the topic. Before that, she’d been determined to be a cop. Not solely to piss her dad off, though that was kind of amusing in and of itself, but because she wanted to be a force on the streets, protecting those who needed protecting and making sure other cops were kept in line, sticking to their vow of defending the helpless while maintaining order in the justice system.

But that was before she discovered journalism. In that first class she had fallen hard, not only with the charming professor who spoke about his passion for the truth and the public’s right to know it as if it was the air who breathed, but also the subject itself. It was a beating drum inside her that she couldn’t squelch. And she knew then that this was what she was meant to do.

Unfortunately for her, the types of stories the school newspaper was expected to write were hardly worth talking about. Meetings and basketball games and fundraisers, hardly the stuff she wanted to write. No, she wanted to bring criminals to justice and stop victims from feeling so helpless and unprotected. A story she wanted to write could do that, but at what cost?

She hadn’t considered the repercussions then. And if she had, well, she probably would’ve done the same thing. It would’ve been worth the risk in her mind, just as everything had been…

For Iris West, writer extraordinaire, nothing could come between her and a story.

Even her own and her family’s reputation.

And safety.

The sound of a horn beeping pulled her from her thoughts, and she realized Stacy had finally arrived. She climbed into the car and shut the door, trying to still herself as thoughts of Barry resurfaced.

Stacy reached across the middle to squeeze her hand tightly, and Iris forced a smile. She released her hand then and turned to look out the window, her thoughts drifting to the past once more.

It had started to rain, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Just like that night so many years ago…

...

*will be posted on AO3 and FFnet when beta’d.

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: The Mother Chapter 8 - Blood On Your Hands

Warnings: Violence, light Language

Word count: 2.3k

Where it all began. 

Summary: Realizing she has made a terrible mistake, Mandy contemples ways to get out of The Cult with the help of a new friend. 

Guest OCs: Dawana Floyde (FC: Anna Diop)

Guest Characters: Archangel Raphael [Supernatural], the characters from Inside Eden’s Gate.

*******

Several weeks have passed, Mandy wasn’t able to get away, or have some time alone for herself. 

Members of the Cult surrounded her all day, everyday. Joseph wanted to make sure she was safe and protected. She was always by his side, during his sermons, baptisms and reapings.

Everyone once saw her as a sweet, nice lady that was corrupted by Joseph, his family, and followers.

A Sunday morning, and time for a sermon. Everyone gathered at the Teller Ranch in the Whitetails Mountains for Joseph’s sermon.

Joseph, Mandy, John, Faith and Jacob along with all of their followers gather inside the church. 

People gather inside, new faces who are probably curious about Eden’s Gate.

“They want to take away our guns. They want to destroy everything we have built. They want to tear us all a part” Joseph preaches to his followers. 

Joseph standing in the center, Faith and Mandy on his left, John and Jacob on his right. 

As he’s preaching unknown to the Seeds, a sinner, a non-local, along with a few of his friends were recording the sermon on a camera, and was caught. Thought he was being slick with hiding the in the front pocket of his shirt. 

A peggie grabs him and brings him to the front. Dropping him to his knees, with a rifle pointed at him.

“No, no, please” he begs. Pleading Joseph.

He continues preaching as the sinner begs for his life. 

Mandy watches on, as the man begs not to be harmed. Joseph looks down at him, and holds his head. 

What happens next shakes her to the core. He digs his fingers into the poor man’s eyes, ripping them out. His screams, and wails echo off the church's walls. Blood on his hands, his facial reactions, and posture never changed. He remained calm throughout the whole horror show. His friends surrender, and we’re taken away. Probably to either be killed or recruited. 

“What the fuck did I get myself into?!?” she thinks to herself. 

She looks around the church, and everyone is yelling at the man and his friends. Calling them sinners, and a bunch of other insulting names that overlapped each other. Faith, John and Jacob are calm as can be. 

*******

At that same church, later that afternoon. 

Mandy was to check on those sinners. She wanted to free them, or at least help them in some way. 

A few of the Cult’s followers tied them up downstairs in the church's basement. More like a wine cellar. She goes down to the cellar to check on them, walking down the creaky wooden stairs. She can hear the hushes, and soft spoken words from the 3 people. 2 men and 1 woman.

When she makes it to the bottom step they all glare at her. If looks could kill she’d be dead. She walks over to a table across the room, and opens a box. No reason why, she doesn’t really know what to do in a situation like this. 

“Why are you doing this?!?” the girl asks. 

Mandy doesn’t have a proper answer prepared, so she stays silent for a moment. Thinking on what to say.

“Hey!” she blurs out, interrupting her thinking “Why are you doing this to us?!?”.

She turns around to face the 3 people. “Because he wants to help you” she says in a soft spoken voice.

They all look back and forth at each other. Confusion, anger and fear mixed into one emotion. 

“Help us?!?” one of the men asks.

“That Joseph guy just ripped our friends' eyes out, and you’re saying he wants to help us?!?” the other guy speaks up. 

“How is that helping?!?” the girl asks. 

Mandy sighs, she walks over to the stairs, and looks up to check if anyone is there before turning her attention to the 3 people.

“Trust me I don’t want to be here more than you 3” she whispers. 

They all look at her in confusion. 

“What?!?” one of the guys asks, “That’s not likely!”. He motions to his hands being tied up behind him. 

“Are you here against your will?!?” the girl asks. 

Mandy sighs, “In a way. I want to help you but I can’t”. 

“What do you mean ‘you can’t’?!?” she asks. 

“There’s too much to explain, I just needed to check on you 3” she tells them, “What are your names?”. 

“Mark” one of the guys answered. 

“Alex” the other answers.

“Hannah” the girl answers, “What’s yours?”.

“Amanda” she answers. 

The cellar door opens, followed by it closing and footsteps. A peggie comes down. One of Jacob’s chosen soldiers.

“Mother?” he says. Looking like an obedient child.

“Yes?” she answers. 

“Joseph wishes to see you in the church” he tells her. 

She nods her head, “Okay tell him I’ll be there”. 

He nods his head, and goes back upstairs. 

“Is he your son?!” Mark asks. 

Mandy narrows her eyes at him, “No. That’s what they call me”. 

“If Joseph’s The Father, then of course they’ll have a Mother” Hannah informs him. 

“So all this is just. An act?!?” Alex inquires. 

She looks away, saying nothing and goes upstairs. 

“Wait!!” Mark calls out, “Wait!!”. Mandy makes it upstairs, and closes the cellar door as they call out for her. Their voices muffled behind the heavy metal door. 

She goes to the church, a few peggies follow her as a form of security. They open the white church doors for her. She sees Joseph standing in front of a stained glass window with his back to her. A pistol in one hand, and one of his white bibles in the other. 

“You asked for me?!” she asks, approaching him. Stopping 5 feet away from him.

“Tell me Mother” he starts off, his back to her still “What do those sinners mean to you?”.

She takes a deep breath, thinking he might have heard her conversation with Alex, Mark and Hannah. 

“Nothing. They’re sinners, but they will see the truth” she answers, “The divine punishment of a sinner mirrors the sin being punished”. That’s right she quoted Hannibal. Hoping that it's a good enough answer. 

Still standing with his back to her, standing completely still. Almost like a statue, you would think he’s one if you take one quick look at him. 

“Yes, they will. They will reach Salvation, and see the word of God. They will be free of their sins, and will be welcomed into our family. They will know the punishment if they refuse”.

He turns to face her, and walks towards her. “They will see his plan. They will see the path he has laid for us”.

Placing the gun, and book on a table. He places his hand on her cheek, caressing it. Both of them looked into each other's eyes. The tension in the air, in the church. There are no words to describe it. Mandy can feel her insides boiling, shaking, going numb. Indescribable moment. Did Joseph hear her conversation with the 3 hostages?.

“They will understand. They will know. They will be forgiven” he tells her, hands caressing her cheeks. He places a kiss on her forehead. 

Gun fire outside makes Joseph lift his head up, looking towards the gunfire. He goes outside, leaving Mandy in the church. Joseph along with his brothers, and a few of their followers get into the black SUVs. 

The 3 hostages in the cellar were able to break out of their restraints and flee. Steal a few guns, killing a few peggies and fled on foot in the wilderness. 

Several hours later in the early evening. They all returned with the 3 hostages. Taking them into separate rooms in the ranch. Mandy goes into one of the rooms where Alex is. 

He looks up, and sees her. “Why?” he asks, “Why are you letting him do this?!?”. 

Blood leaking out of his mouth, cut up, bruised. Like he was beaten several times to a bloody pulp. Before Mandy could say anything the door opens behind her. Joseph along with a few of his followers step inside. 

“I’m glad you’re here” he says to her. Kissing her on the head. He turns to Alex, excusing Mandy. She stands in the corner of the room. She looks to her left, and sees Raphael. She glares at him. Trying to play it off, ignoring him. As if he weren’t there. Only she can see him. No one else in the room can, not even Joseph. 

Alex pleds with them to let him and his friends go. He even throws Mandy under the bus, which only angers Joseph. 

Telling them that she was trying to help them break out, that everything was all an act.

Raphael glares at her. Telling her that she needs to speak out against it. She doesn’t want another innocent person to be killed by the Cult but she has no choice but to play her role.

“How dare you!” she mutters angrily, stepping away from the corner of the room “I have been nothing but faithful, and honest to The Father”. Alex looks at her confused, and angry.

“You just told me, and my friends that you were here against your will!!” he exclaims, as blood gushes out his mouth. 

“False accusations. What do you expect from a nasty sinner” she continues. Mandy was always good at acting. Playing a part, staying in character. She took a few acting classes in middle school. 

Joseph extends his arm out to hold her back. “He will pay for the accusations against The Mother, and so will the others” he tells his followers. 

They both stay inside the room as the 2 Cultists torture Alex. Cutting up his skin carving “sinner” into his flesh. Taking his eyes out. Mandy feels sick to her stomach, holding back her urge vomit, and cries begging them to stop. 

Raphael appears next to her again, being visible to only her and no one else. 

“I know you don’t want to do this” he tells her, “But this is how it has to be. God needs him protected. But I agree with you, these are innocent people who don’t deserve this. But I can’t speak against Father in fear that I’ll be cast out like Lucifer”. She knows she can’t speak without Joseph hearing her. She remembers that Angels can read minds, and hear human thoughts. 

“What is the main reason God wants all of this?!?” she thinks to herself in order for Raphael to hear her. 

“He has many” he says, “But the main reason. He won’t say, Metatron might know more than me”.  

She thinks to herself again, “What’s Joseph thinking?!” she asks him in her head.

The Archangel looks over at Joseph, and hears his Father, God, Chuck’s voice telling him about his plan. He wasn’t able to get much, but only that he has to keep The Mother close to him, keep getting more followers, expand The Project and he’ll be granted a New World. 

“I was able to get some information about my father’s plan to Joseph” he tells her.

Mandy looks over at him for a second before turning back to the torture porn in front of her. 

“What was it?!?” she asks, thinking to herself once again. 

“To keep you close. Expand The Project and he’ll be granted a New World” he further explains to her. 

“Can you get more info?!?” she thinks. 

“I can try” he tells her before going back into Joseph’s head. 

Again he hears Chuck’s voice telling him about the Collapse, and the New World. New Eden. 

“It’s all the same” he tells her, “The Collapse, New Eden”. 

But he hears one piece of information that startles the Archangel, and he disappears from the room. Leaving a few of his feathers behind on the floor, that are only visible to Mandy. 

“That can’t be good” she thinks to herself. 

After the torture horror show, Mandy receives a letter that was placed on the windshield on her truck from an anonymous address. Telling her to go to the Dead Man’s River at midnight that same day.  Thinking it might be Raphael. Telling her to meet him in secrecy because of whatever it was that made him leave so suddenly. 

Later that night, midnight. Mandy was able to sneak away without the acknowledgement of Joseph, or the Cult. She waits for Raphael, or whoever sent that letter to her, telling her to meet her. 

Checking her phone for the time, 12:15am. She sighs, leaning with her back against the grill of her truck. 

The wind starts to pick up, the cold air blowing past her. The howling of the wind turns into the voice of a woman. 

“You came” the voice of a woman says. She turns around and sees a woman dressed in voodoo priestess attire. 

She turns around to face her, staring at her, “Who are you?!” she asks. 

“I mon chéri, am Dawana Floyde” she answers in a New Orleans, French accent. 

“You put the letter on my windshield?” she asks. Leaning off her truck.

“Yes” she answers, “It is important that I speak with you”.

“For what reason?” she asks, suspicious.

“Raphael sent me” she tells her, walking towards the edge of the river. 

“Raphael sent you?” she questions.

Dawana looks up at the moon, and its full cycling intentions. “Oui, chér. I work closely with le Archangels. Some of course. His vessel is my dear husband. My poor daughter had to go through life without him”.

After a few minutes of silence, Mandy clears her throat. “So why did you call me here?! What happened with Raphael?”. 

The Voodoo Priestess turns around to face her, “I want to help you with Le Culte, and Le Pere Joseph Seed”. 

[ameth18blog]

Unexpected Encounters. Chapter 7: Songgretopia - End Of The Day

Finnick closes his phone after making a call. He then looks at Nick, Judy, and Jack, who had Nicole and Jerry with them. "It's fixed, someone will watch Judy's parents and Nick's mother so they don't come here and remain safe in Zootopia."

"Well, that takes a load off our shoulders, but what will happen to our families," said Ookami holding Hana in his arms.

"Eggman could track us down and try to harm them as long as we hold on the remaining emeralds," Retsuko said, taking Koka's hand.

"You don't have to worry about that. That's what we're here for," said Amy.

"Eggman is always used to making appearances where he wreaks havoc to get our attention," Knuckles said.

"So I don't think he will try to kidnap any of your family, unless we are present, and if he does, we can rescue them in the blink of an eye," said Sonic.

"At the moment, all you can do is go to the police and show yourself as they are surely still looking for you and worried that something has happened to you after you escaped from the restaurant," said Tails.

At that moment, all the inhabitants of Zootopia and Japan realized that it was true, they spent so much time talking with the inhabitants of Mobius that they forgot that the authorities were still trying to find them.

"You go, we will stay here," Cosmo assured.

"The sooner you get to them, the sooner they can get back," said Tikal.

They all nodded and left Gori's apartment temporarily leaving the Mobius Heroes alone.

...

When they reached the ground floor, they left the building and went to the police station.

At first, their walk seemed completely normal, but on the way, they ended up being surrounded by a large number of reporters who began to take a large number of photographs, recorded them with video cameras, held microphones at them, and began to ask a lot of questions. While the adults had a reaction of surprise, the children had a reaction of fear, since the last time they were surrounded in that way they were about to die if it had not been for the appearance of Sonic and the others.

"Where they ended up when they escaped from the restaurant?"

"Where do those heroes come from?"

"Do you know their names and where they are right now?"

That amount of questions began to anger Retsuko who mentally began to sign Death Metal with all of her strength.

"STOP BOTHERING US AND GET AWAY!"

"DON'T YOU SEE WE JUST GO THROUGH A BIG TRAUMA!"

"WHY DON'T YOU GO BOTHER ELSEWHERE AND LEAVE US ALONE?!"

"YOUR PRESENCE IN THESE MOMENTS STRESSES ME. IT STRESSES ME VERY MUCH!"

Just then, a group of policemen appeared at the scene and pushed the reporters back and made them leave the scene.

"We are sorry for that, I'm the head of the police department. We need you to accompany us to the station to detail what happened today."

"It won't be a problem, sir. We were on our way to the station anyway," Washimi said.

"Alright, follow me," said the chief of police.

...

After talking to the police, only Nick, Judy, and Jack were left talking to the boss while the others waited for them outside the office.

"According to reports I have, you, Mr. Wilde, and you, Ms. Hopps, are Zootopia police officers, while you, Agent Savage, are an undercover agent for an agency with ties to this country. And you are on vacation here, is it true?" the chief of police asked.

"Exactly," answered the red fox, the female rabbit, and the striped rabbit.

"I suppose you know where the beings that helped you escape are, right?"

The three of them fell silent.

"Come on, you can trust me. Our profession at the end of the day is to protect the innocent. And with that strange being that attacked a few hours ago, we must obtain the most important information that is known to stop him."

Nick, Judy, and Jack looked at each other. They knew that they weren't supposed to tell anyone about Sonic and the others, but it was their duty so that the police could have information about Dr. Eggman as well, so that they would also be of help in stopping him.

Once they finished counting everything except the location of the heroes and not mentioning their names either. So they don't know that they will still have contact with them unless it is really necessary.

"Well, that's all I needed to know, I'll stay in touch with you in case something important happens. You can go now."

"Thank you very much, sir," Judy said.

"No, thanks to you. One more thing, each of you will be escorted to your respective homes so that the reporters will not bother you again," said the police chief.

"That sounds good. Thanks," said Jack.

After they went out and met their friends once more, they told them what the police chief asked them.

"Are you sure it was a good idea?" Washimi suggested.

"Yes, after all the police could be of help in any case where people need to be evacuated," said Nick and then said in a low voice, "Apart from the fact that we didn't tell him where Sonic and the others are and we didn't mention their names."

"They also told us that they would escort us to our respective homes," Jack added.

"So we better decide what time we will meet tomorrow," Judy said.

After having a conversation, they agreed to meet at 9 in the morning at Gori's apartment.

Having decided everything, they then were told that the patrols that would escort them to their homes (hotel in the case of the inhabitants of Zootopia) so the group exchanged their goodbyes and separated into three groups.

...

When they got home, Haida (carrying Koka in his arms) and Retsuko entered, once the door was closed, Retsuko's mother and grandmother were already standing in front of them.

"Because they were coming in late, you don't see how worried we were, when we finished talking on the phone we expected you to come home immediately," said Retsuko's mother.

Retsuko's grandmother was just standing next to her daughter with her arms crossed without saying anything.

Everyone expected someone to say something after that, but Retsuko only walked over to her mother and her grandmother and then hugged them both at the same time as she let a couple of tears escape from her eyes. Despite the stress she had from the previous call, she was happy to see them in the person again, after that situation she survived, she was grateful that for the moment everything had ended and that she was at home with her relatives, although she also would have liked to be her father been there too, but she understood that for work reasons she had to be away, although she promised she would return as soon as possible.

Retsuko's mother and grandmother understood what she was going through at the moment they both reciprocated the hug. Haida, seeing the reaction of his wife, decided to comfort her, also bringing his son with him. In the middle of the family embrace there were the hyena and the four red pandas, which due to the size of the first one, he made the others were connected to the embrace.

When they finally broke away from the hug, Retsuko's mother and grandmother realized that it was best to let Retsuko relax for the remainder of the day.

"Well, we already prepared dinner, if you like, you can sit down to eat," said Retsuko's mother.

"And we made sure to prepare you your favorite food," Retsuko's grandmother added.

Hearing that, their spirits lifted a bit and they went to the dining room to see the food prepared.

Haida, Retsuko, and Koka sat in one side of the table, and Retsuko's mother and grandmother sat on other side of the table.

The five began to pray for the food for the day. Once they finished, they began to eat dinner in silence.

...

Ookami, Fenneko, and Hana had just got home. After what happened that day, they felt good to be home. It was time to rest from that exhausting experience. When they noticed, they realized that Hana had fallen asleep in Ookami's arms. Fenneko took her daughter gently, carried her into her room and laid her gently on her bed, wrapped the blanket around her, kissed her forehead, and then left the room, closing the door gently.

"Poor girl, she's very exhausted," whispered Ookami.

"At least she's safe at home now," Fenneko whispered.

"You believe that the children who came with Sonic from his world can protect Hana and the other children?"

"Of course, you saw how Speed faced Dr. Eggman's robots, he must have fought him several times despite his young age."

"I wonder what kind of world Sonic and his friends come from if they face situations lie the one we live in every day."

"I don't know, but I wouldn't mind going there one day, just to get out of the usual daily routine."

"Are you talking seriously?"

"I don't know. Maybe, maybe not."

"Changing the subject, you think that Washimi can convince the president of the company not to allow himself to speak about today's event?"

"Knowing her, she will achieve it on the first try."

...

Nick, Judy, Jack, Finnick, Nicole, and Jerry were in their hotel room, despite the comfort they felt when they got there that morning, it felt heavy now. Knowing that Eggman could attack at any moment, they had to be vigilant to protect the children, who at that moment were still scared that day. Judy took her two children in her arms and to calm them down, she began to sing one of Gazelle's songs. Both children were fans of hers and listening to her songs relaxed them.

"Mom, can we sleep with you and our fathers tonight?" Nicole asked.

"We don't want to be alone tonight," Jerry added.

Nick, Judy, and Jack looked at each other and nodded.

"Of course, you can stay with us," Judy answered.

Nicole and Jerry's eyes began to sparkle with joy as they said at the same time, "Thank you mom, thank you dads."

"And if any robot comes to bother us, I'll take care of them with this," Finnick said, waving a baseball bat that he had brought with him and was waving it from side to side. "I will throw them in one fell swoop into the ocean."

Nicole and Jerry started laughing upon hearing that.

"By the way kids, it's almost bedtime, you want to talk one more time with grandpa and grandmothers before going to bed?" Nick asked.

"Yes!" the children said in unison.

"Well come closer," Jack assured, taking the phone out of his pocket and dialing the number to make the video call.

...

Washimi and Gori were talking on the phone. Each had returned to their respective home.

"So while we were gone, they tidied up your apartment a bit and made dinner," Washimi recounted.

"Yes, they said it was a token of appreciation for letting them stay here," Gori added.

"And what are they doing right now?"

"Well after dinner, they locked themselves in the room I lent them. They are apparently discussing how to find Dr. Eggman's base."

"They haven't told you anything about that?"

"No, they just concluded that their base is not in the city, so it could be anywhere in the world."

"That is partly a relief as the city dwellers are safe from having him around, but partly it is concerning as you never know where he may appear from."

"They said the same in their discussion. By the way, do you think that the beings that they mentioned that come from other realities are good people like them?"

"If they haven't caused trouble and are in this city, then they must be peaceful beings as well."

"You think there are handsome boys among them, they might want to use my dating app."

"I doubt it."

...

"It's strange, even though Eggman took possession of four of the chaos emeralds, I can't locate them with the tracker," Tails growled.

"It's not possible, it should mark his position right now, unless Eggman has created a container similar to yours," Sonic pointed out.

"So it means we can't locate them," Amy said.

"That coward! It's going to be difficult for us to get back to our dimension," Knuckles growled.

Tikal and Cosmo noticed the rage spirits in their respective husbands and friends, so they tried to calm them down.

"You have to calm down, Eggman has had disappearances like this before," Cosmo pointed out.

"We are sure to find it before we know it," Tikal said confidently.

The other four sighed and calmed down, knowing that they were both right, as getting upset out of worry or anger would not solve their situation.

While that was happening; Speed, Flora, Alex, Locke II, and Pachacamac II were marking on a map of the city. They were trying to figure out where the beings that like them also came from different dimensions could be.

"So if we're not wrong, they must have appeared on the perimeter of this city," Speed said.

"I agree, apart from if they are equal to the other inhabitants of the city, we may never be able to find them," said Flora.

"We must not lose hope, if like us, they are separated from our dimension, they must still be disoriented from being in a different place," Locke II detailed.

"And for sure they are desperately trying to find a way to go home right now, as we are doing right now," Pachacamac II finalized.

...

As all that happened with the heroes the day finally turned to the night, and finally the inhabitants of Zootopia, Japan, and Mobius went to sleep after a long and exhausting day, knowing that tomorrow would be another long day.

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (10)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 2.8k (this chapter), 32.4k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

They try everything. Sophie handles the cameras and phones while Phil and Chris spend way too long cleaning up files on their laptops and doing what they can to get any clear images out of the mess. It's no use. By the time PJ returns from driving Dan home, all they've accomplished is figuring out that the corruption is on their devices, not on the exported files. No matter what they do, the videos and pictures they took have the effect of being scrambled, like someone has pressed fast forward and also put a noise filter over them. The sound is no better - there's a high-pitched sort of ringing in all of the video and audio recordings that Phil can't understand the source of. Some files won't open altogether.

"How does this even happen?" Sophie mutters, bent over Chris' phone with a furrowed brow. "There's nothing left. Like, at all."

"We still have footage from the first night," says Phil. He's trying his very best to stay positive, but this is unbelievably frustrating. They experienced something last night, even if they can't agree on what it was, and they're supposed to start driving back to Brighton before it gets too dark. They don't have time for this. "With the shadow, you know."

His friends make grunts of irritated agreement. Phil knows that all of them are disappointed and a little angry about the lack of evidence for their hellish night, almost like they went through it for nothing, but he doesn't have anything comforting to say.

Phil has never been very good at comfort. He's good at distracting people and forcing optimism, but seeing such visceral emotions from his usually mild housemates makes him want to retreat into himself. He takes his glasses off to rub at his eyes, fighting off a budding headache.

"That's not really enough for a video, though, is it," says PJ. "I mean, you're not going to convince anyone with just a shadow."

"Well, we can't stay to try and get more," Chris says with a little huff.

"I can," Phil points out. He doesn't think he wants to, really, because this whole situation skeeves him out and going back alone would not help, but he needs there to be a purpose to his friends' suffering or he'll never forgive himself. He stares at his unfocused laptop screen, full of files that don't work, and wonders if they're going to bother to try and stop him. "I mean, you guys all have work tomorrow. I don't have anywhere to be. And I kind of want to see this through, so I can, like… take the train home when it's done."

There's a moment of quiet. Phil feels his shoulders tense at the possibility that he's going to have to argue his way into this. It's his job. Plus, he already knows his parents are going to have a problem with him staying longer to investigate, and fighting with yet another set of well-meaning people is more than he wants to do.

"Normally I'd be like, whatever," says PJ. "You know what you're doing and you do this sort of shit alone all the time. But, Phil, how the fuck do you think the paralysis will work if you're by yourself?"

"I won't try to sleep there," Phil decides, shoving his glasses back onto his face. "That's the only time it's happened, right? When people are already falling asleep?"

PJ's mouth twists unhappily, but he doesn't protest further. Phil wonders if he's actually won this argument or if PJ is just too tired from bickering with Dan about cryptids, or whatever they talked about on the drive. Thinking about Dan is a distraction, and not exactly a welcome one. Phil doesn't know how he feels - or even if he should be feeling anything at all - and he doesn't want to add that crisis on top of the one he's already dealing with.

"So you're just going to go there," says Chris. "Alone. And then poke around and go home?"

"That's what I do in most haunts."

"Fair play. Carry on."

It's almost funny how quickly PJ's expression nosedives into aghast. "What? That's it? You're not putting up more of a fight?"

"Why bother?" Chris asks with a little shrug. "He's a stubborn bellend."

"Hey," Phil half-heartedly protests. His friends don't deign to acknowledge it.

"You should bring a sigil with you," says Sophie. Her voice is soft and tired, but her eyes are kind in a way that PJ and Chris don't bother to be. "Why don't you bring something down that you'd have on you, and we'll all put something on it?"

"Really?" Chris asks. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. Phil doesn't know if he thinks the idea is good or stupid, but he nods after Sophie does. "Alright, we can do that."

PJ is looking off into the distance while cogs seem to turn in his head. "Something you'll have physically on you, Philly, since we can't put it on your skin itself. Let us draw on your glasses or jacket or -"

"Knickers," Chris chimes in.

"Or your knickers," PJ agrees, far more solemnly than Phil thinks is necessary.

It doesn't seem like it'll actually help, but Phil feels so much affection and gratitude for his friends wanting to protect him in any way they can that he doesn't argue.

Phil doesn't really like the idea of going to the Wilkins place alone, either, but he's a lot more comfortable doing that than dragging his innocent friends along for the awful ride again. He thinks about Sophie's kind eyes staring up at the ceiling blankly, the way PJ gasped when he woke up, Chris trying to hide his own concern about the situation, and he feels his resolve stiffen even more.

Maybe he is a stubborn bellend. This is his responsibility, though. It's not right for him to keep asking for help. Phil lets the conversation flow to what snacks they're going to get for the drive and thinks about how he's going to break the situation to his parents.

--

It doesn't feel as satisfying to shut the door of his childhood bedroom, now. Maybe it's the fact that he's too mature to slam it, or maybe it's that the room itself isn't the haven it used to be. All the neutral colours and boring pieces of art are like a constant visual reminder that his life isn't here anymore.

He doesn't want it to be here. That isn't the problem. It feels stupid if he thinks about it for too long, but he grew up in this house. He's got scars from the sharp corners of the old furniture and more memories than he has in any other singular location. Sure, it makes sense that his parents are retiring and want to downsize from a big, empty house, but Phil really isn't comfortable with this level of change. He kind of assumed he'd always be able to come visit and feel at home again.

Phil sinks onto the mattress. For a long moment, he seriously considers going to sleep. It's barely past seven, but he didn't sleep well this morning. At least if he's unconscious he doesn't need to deal with the crushing weight of his parents' disappointment and worry.

The decision is made for him when his phone buzzes with a notification from Tumblr.

tell ur parents thanks for letting me stay and tell pj thanks for bringing me home and tell urself thanks for the uhhhh experience lmao its deffo not one im gonna forget anytime soon

Phil huffs a laugh and gets comfortable. You're very welcome. I'll tell them when I come out of hiding.

arent you in a very small car on your way to brighton mate… how tf do you manage to hide in there when youre huge

Oh I'm not in the car, I'm still at my parents' place. It's a long story and I hate typing a bunch on my phone. Phil grimaces at himself for the way that sounds, like he's cutting off any questions Dan might have before they ask. He sends another message. Voice call me on Skype or something if you wanna hear about my no good, very bad day.

He doesn't expect Dan to actually call him, let alone immediately, but Phil's phone starts buzzing with a Skype call before he's collected himself enough to find his headphones. He's still detangling while he answers with a sheepish, "Oh, hello!"

"Hi," says Dan. Their voice is low and amused, and Phil can't believe how nice it is to hear after only a handful of hours.

"I'm woefully unprepared, as per usual," Phil rambles, finally getting his headphones in and grinning at the bland wall in front of him. Nobody is here to judge him for it. "You, er, got home alright?"

"Obviously yes," says Dan. "So, you had a bad day?"

"'Cause you had a bad day," Phil sings back to them. The sound of Dan's giggle makes any embarrassment worth it, he thinks. "Yeah, uh, it was rough. So we wanted to look over the footage from last night to see what the camera caught, y'know, but… I don't know how, I don't have an explanation for it, but everything is corrupted. Our audio, our video, our photos. They're all beyond repair."

There's a few moments of silence, where Phil would think Skype had frozen if he couldn't still hear the faint music on Dan's end. Then, "What? You - what? We don't have anything?"

Phil likes the sound of 'we'. He probably shouldn't.

"We tried everything," Phil explains, his heart feeling heavy all over again at the reminder that they spent hours terrified for nothing. "But the corruption isn't even in the exported files, it's on our devices themselves. Chris' phone, our cameras… they're all fucked."

"If you're swearing, it must be fucking serious," says Dan. Phil wants to interrupt then, explain that his policy on bleeping out curses is more about staying monetized and keeping his parents happy than any personal morals, but Dan has already shot past the topic at the speed of light. "So basically we've got no proof we were ever there, let alone that something weird happened - which I'm not saying is some kind of fucking paranormal shit, by the way, but it was weird - and now you've got nothing to make a video with and I never should have told you about this place to begin with?"

"Dan, breathe." Phil waits until he's sure that Dan is at least trying to follow the directive. "It's okay. I'm glad you brought me here. And that's why I'm still in town - I'm going to get more footage."

"Not alone, you're not," Dan says fiercely.

"Peej and the other Scoobs already went home. I just didn't go with them."

"I don't care where your friends are," says Dan. Phil can almost see their hand waving dismissively. "You're not going back there alone. End of story."

The clear insistence in Dan's voice should be getting Phil's back up against the wall. He hates being told what to do with his own projects, needs to be in complete control whenever possible. Instead, he finds himself thinking that it's sweet of Dan to worry like that.

Christ, but he's got it bad.

"I'm still in town either way," Phil says, picking at a loose thread in his sleeve absent-mindedly. "Which my parents are, uh, not thrilled about."

"Really?" Dan sounds genuinely surprised. "They seem like they really love you, mate."

Love has never been the issue. That feels strange to think, cocky almost, but Phil has never really worried that his parents won't love him. Even with the secrets he keeps from them and their fears about the way he lives his life, the worst he's ever expected is disappointment. That just isn't the way their relationship works.

"Oh, they do," says Phil. "But they hate my job, and they think that it's stupid of me to keep investigating a place that clearly doesn't want to be investigated. They believe in ghosts and demons and all that jazz, y'know, they think I'm inviting evil into my life, so they said they'd let me stay here while I work but that we're going to have a 'serious discussion' about my life trajectory when I'm done."

"Ouch. I'd hate that conversation."

"Trust me, it's going to suck. I just got the preview today, and I already know I'm going to want to run away to Iceland."

There's a beat. Then, Dan says, "At least when you're there you can look into the hidden people. You know, the Icelandic elves or whatever that live in a parallel world. That seems up your alley."

"Your mum lives in a parallel world," Phil mutters.

Dan giggles. The sound of it is soft, like they're aware of their own volume, and Phil remembers that Dan lives in some kind of housing with a bunch of other students. He still loves the sound, so much so that he drifts into a nonsensical daydream of making Dan laugh as much as possible and almost misses Dan's voice coming through his headphones again.

"Since you're still in town," Dan is saying, and Phil makes a conscious effort to tune back in, "you should come by the shop tomorrow. I have an early class, but I'm starting work at eleven."

The prospect of seeing Dan again is such a good one that Phil doesn't even hesitate before he's agreeing. It'll be a bit of an effort to get out of bed early enough to avoid his parents and catch Dan for a good amount of time, but Phil feels like it's definitely going to be worth it. He likes Dan, likes being around them if absolutely nothing else, and the ill-advised butterflies in his stomach aren't enough to make him fall on the side of finding this a bad idea.

It isn't until after he's hung up and getting himself a sandwich so he doesn't have to eat an awkward dinner with his parents that Phil realises he's going to have Dan all to himself tomorrow. Well, to himself and to whatever patrons come into the coffee shop. The force of those warm eyes, just focused on him… it's going to test Phil in a way he's not sure he's ready for.

He turns away from the fridge and almost jumps out of his skin.

"Mum," he complains, free hand clutched to his chest. "Don't just stand there, you scared me!"

A smile tugs at Kath's lips, but her arms are crossed and her eyes are staring into Phil's very soul. He feels cornered all of a sudden, like he ought to be clawing for escape.

"Philip," she says, all warmth. There's that slight edge that he remembers so clearly from mishaps as a child, but for the most part it seems like she isn't here to lecture him. He imagines that's going to come from both of them. "This thing that you insist on doing… it's dangerous. You must know that, love."

Phil doesn't actually know that. For the most part, his career hasn't given him anything but boredom and a complex about his own creativity. It's just the odd cases, the ones like the Wilkins house, that get him squirrelly.

"I know, mum," he says anyway. It isn't worth the argument. "But this is my job."

"It doesn't need to be," she presses, and Phil realises that his assumption was very, very wrong. They're going to divide and conquer. She continues like she hasn't noticed the way his whole body is tensing up. "You have such a wonderful mind and loads of ambition, my dear. And that imagination! Gosh, you could do anything that you set your mind to."

Anything he set his mind to - if he actually tried. Phil can hear the words that she isn't saying, that his dad will have no trouble voicing later, and he feels the familiar burn in his throat like he's going to start crying.

He won't. He doesn't cry much, as a rule, but he's well-acquainted with the sensation of holding it back.

"I know that I can," says Phil quietly. He looks down at his sandwich. He isn't very hungry anymore. "Mum, I'm not - I don't do this because I - you know, I like my job."

That's not exactly the truth anymore, but Phil is also well-acquainted with the art of lying to his mother. She doesn't need to know about the doubts that plague Phil, the way that he's felt like he's slogging through videos until they catch his interest properly. That's something he can figure out on his own. He forces his eyes back up at her to drive the point home with a sincere, pleading sort of look.

Her mouth twists, unhappily this time.

"You need to grow up sometime, Phil," she says, so soft that it almost cushions the devastating blow of her words.

Almost.

[likesomekindofcheese]

Songbird of Jamestown Chapter Five

Pairing: Samuel Castell x fem! Reader

Word Count: 6898

Summary: You are among the English maids in 1619-1620 who have agreed to board ship for the new world in Jamestown, with the intention to marry the men there. You have chosen to find a husband and life of your own and pay back the company, than be pre bought and bound to a random stranger. Life is difficult and you and your friends struggle, but there is a certain recorder who’s willing to help. He’s kind-hearted and handsome ...and has already been pledged to another.

A/N: this chapter is shorter than I intended (I have other WIPS and requests that need attending and after debate, the ending to this chapter felt better for the development of the next one), but here we are! A very dramatic chapter that was both fun and painful to write. I hope you like it and please comment or share if you do!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, angst, drama, Jocelyn being Jocelyn, scenes of vomiting, sickness.

Taglist: @bluesfortheredj​ (sempai) @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @theworksgaga​ @itscale​ @theoneandonlyeclecticepileptic​ @queenlover05​ @rubystarflight​ @themficsilike​ @namelesslosers​ @itsametaphorgwil​

“Come, all you very merry London Girls,

That are disposed to Travel,

Here is a Voyage now at hand,

Will save your feet from gravel.

If you have shooes, you need not fear

For wearing out the Leather,

For why you shall on shipboard go,

Like Loving Rogues Together, 

Some are already gone before,

The rest must after follow

Then come away and do not stay,

Your guide shall be Apollo!”

      - Lawrence Price, “The Maiden’s of London’s Brave Adventures”, 1623.

“Miss Y/L/N …”

You thought you heard his voice. 

“Oh Y/N, please…wake up, be strong again….”

You wanted to just croak out his name. Your lips parted, and a sound came out. It wasn’t his name. It was only a sound.

“Miss Y/L/N? Can you hear me? Take this!”

You could barely see him but a sudden taste that hit your tongue, full of bitterness. Then a drop of water that was brought to you. But no blots of color formed. No more signs of him. Only darkness.

Sometimes something like a nightmare came across your vision. You thought you saw something, but then it faded before it could devour you. Sometimes there were dreams, sometimes not.

Then another voice came up. It could have been an hour. It could have been a day. It wasn’t his voice, but a voice. A soft, lilting voice.

“Oh, dear Lord, please heal this lady. You know she is a dear, kind woman. No one has ever treated me as nicely here, other than my master and mistress of course. But she is a good friend. Your book even says a friend sticks closer than a brother. So, I must beg you, if it is in your will, to heal her from this dreaded and sudden illness. I would be most saddened if she were to die. You have placed me in her life, and unless You have planned so, please don’t take her away from it. Give her health again and wake her up, Amen.”

The words were flooding outside you when you woke up. You were lying on your bed, Mercy was right next to you. Her pale face and little brown head looked blurry, but you saw her turn her head at once.

She gave a grin and placed a hand over her heart, leaning to you.

“Oh, providence is kind! Miss Y/L/N!” she cried, getting up and then pausing. She knew you were too weak to embrace. She pulled herself back.

Your vision flooded back and you saw you were at home. You felt sticky and sweaty. Your bed was beneath you and you saw you only had your shift on.

“M…Mercy…what…what’s happening?” you croaked.

Your throat felt dry from the lack of use.

“You were found just outside, fainted!” she recalled.

“Did you find me?” you ask.

“Oh, it was the Tavern Keeper’s wife, the red haired woman…she was out walking in the dark to your home to see you, she said, when she heard your cries and came a runnin’. Found you right on the dirt, right out! She dragged you in here, ran, and fetched the doctor quick as she could, stayed up all night with you, she did!” she said, almost excitedly. Her eyes wide as if telling a story.

“Verity…oh, it was Verity! Mercy…am I dying…If I’m dying there’s someone…I need to…I need to speak to…” you said.

You knew the one thing you didn’t want to say had to be said to him if your time was running out.

“You’re only sick. That’s what the doctor says. But you might…I hope you won’t…” she said. Her eyes looked down and she frowned.

You reached out a hand and touched her cheek.

“Oh, mistress Mercy, I heard your prayer…and I’m so lucky to have you,” you comforted.

“I’ve prayed every hour I could…my master was with the doctor when Verity was running, so he and my mistress even prayed with me for you in this room for an hour today. I think all of our prayers worked. It was my Master who even got you to your bed the other night, but he insisted on leaving outside when you got changed to your shift, ‘cause you know, you were asleep but it still wasn’t polite, he said!”

You felt your lip bite and a small laugh escape.

“Why, Miss Y/L/N, colors coming to your cheeks, even! You’re getting healthy, I know it!” she cheered.

“How long was I asleep?” you interrupt, a little embarrassed.

“About a day.”

Your head hurt and you were dizzy. You groaned from the pain and Mercy fetched a cool cloth from a bucket. You nodded as thanks.

“Mercy…what did the doctor say about me? What do I have?” you ask.

Your memory was coming back. And you had a dreaded feeling you knew exactly what happened to you.

But…it couldn’t be, could it?

“He says you’re only sick and that’s that. He did get you to swallow some medicine and he says you need more…which…oh dear! I forgot! Now you’re awake! I have to get him! Excuse me, m’am...”

She gave a curtsy and off she went like a squirrel to a tree. Your dizziness came in and out. You found your arms, while shaky, could pull yourself up. Your stomach felt like it had a stone in it. Even the sight of your food in the corner made it turn and you felt the threat of vomit rise in you.

A little later, a man entered with Mercy trailing behind him. He was of average height, with dark hair that curled yet was brushed back. His face had hints of scruff with a pale, square head and a sunny smile.

“Hello, miss. Doctor Priestly at your service,” he greeted.

He even bobbed his head as if you were a lady. If it weren’t for your weakness, you would have bobbed your head for a curtsy as well.

“See, doctor! My prayers have worked! I did have faith enough!” Mercy cheered excitedly.

She grabbed your hand to help you get up to sitting on your bed upright.

“It seems your faith and my medicine are a powerful team, Mercy. Go find your mistress and let her know at once that Miss Y/L/N is awake. She’ll want to know how her servant is, she’s been very fretful for two days for her.”

Mercy once again scooped her red skirt into her tiny hands and ran out the door. He pulled out a vial from his bag, poured some clear liquid onto a spoon, and fed it to you. It tasted disgusting as overcooked cabbage, but you made yourself swallow it. It was the same bitter aftertaste as the drink you were fed while slightly conscious.

“Here, two days of rest and this medicine and you will be fine,” he assured you.

What happened couldn’t be true, it was too insane to be true. You shouldn’t be in this predicament at all. Or were you? There was one way to find out.

“Doctor Priestly…what’s wrong with me, what am I sick with?”

“I’ve not told a soul about your condition… for Mercy’s sake.”

“Mercy?” you asked. “What’s she have to do with it?”

“I remember when she arrived here. She was an orphan boarded from England sent here to work and make a life for herself. Poor thing had more than one master beat her senseless when she was small. I couldn’t afford her, so Castell took pity on her and placed her under his wing for her protection. He’s almost like her father in an odd way, but he’s still her employer. But that is her life, no family and only drudgery. “

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and blinked a lot, coming back to the present.

“She has a tender heart and it takes very little to vex her. I saw how fond she was of you, so I wanted to rest aside her fears. If I told Castell, he might tell her just to give her an answer. But you and your mistress at least deserve to know the truth.”

He pulled a chair from the table next to you and spoke in a low voice.

“You had the symptoms of poisoning from the belladonna plant.”

“No…but…I…I just can’t…I was poisoned,” you said, finally accepting your dreaded suspicion.

“And I also noticed...I had kept some for medical and research reasons, and the vial was gone. So, whoever took it must have targeted you. They wanted to harm you. You had a water jug that was laced with it. Luckily, you only had a little bit. If you drank a larger dose or didn’t take this medicine in time, you would have been dead.”

“Someone stole your belladonna?” you ask.

Your eyebrows furrow and you look directly at him. Your hands fold neatly at your blanket.

“Oh, I hope you forgive me, Miss Y/L/N…I should have watched it more carefully.” He begged, he turned his head down.

“It’s…alright, Dr. Priestly. I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault it was stolen” you say.

You move your hands in front to tell him to calm down and he smiles in response. He’s not entirely unfortunate looking and you feel yourself smile back.

“Have some water, you’ve been without food or drink for over a day” he suggested, getting a tin cup.

You drank it up greedily. Sighing and wiping off your mouth, you look back at him, softened.

“I would prefer to keep this low. Only your mistress and you. News of poisoning would bring fear, someone innocent might go to jail if accused falsely,” he explained.

You at once felt your stomach turn. The bile was coming back up.

“A…a jug, anything, I’m going to…” you mumbled.

He handed you a clay pot and you felt the disgusting feeling of vomit rise out of you and the repulsive smell of it. You put a hand over your mouth defensively as he put away the pot.

“You are just weak, Miss Y/L/N. Just keeping drinking water and taking the medicine. You will be a little weak, but fine,” he assured.

Not long after there was a knock on the front door and Doctor Priestly sprung up and greeted with the largest smile you had seen on him yet.

You saw the pale blue cloak of Jocelyn walk before you and fold open the hood. Her golden curls were tied back with a ribbon just loosely. Your breathing got shallower and your nostrils flared remembering the day on the ship.

Sure, I can’t let my hair down, but you can. Not a lady anymore, eh? You just proved that, you thought angrily.

“Oh, Doctor Priestly, Oh, I am so glad. Poor girl! How is she?” she asked demurely.

“She’s weak, but after one day of rest and taking this medicine, she’ll be bright and bonny as ever. I have to tell you Jocelyn…” giving a glace at you, he led her just outside the door to speak with her explaining why you were sick.

Waiting for a while, you kept squeezing your own hands. You felt your heart beating in your ears. After a few minute, you saw Jocelyn open the door again, continuing the conversation.

“Doctor Priestly, may I nurse her, myself? I wish to make amends- it was my own jug and I lost watch of it!” she offered warmly.

There was a crinkle beneath the doctor’s eyes as she spoke and he leaned a little closer.

“What a tender heart you have, I’ll leave you with her. Bring me back if there is any sign of trouble. Here is the medicine, I’ll go on and make another, farewell!” he wished, handing her the bottle.

With a slight hop in his step, he left.

Jocelyn took a few minutes to be quiet. As she walked up you pulled yourself back, defensively. She held out the medicine poured out a spoonful, offering it to you.

You hesitated, staring. She could have done something with it too. But you accepted it and led the spoon with your hand to your mouth.

 After a few spoonful’s, the concerned look on her face dropped looking down on you. She looked at the window, checking, and then returned. You tried to glare up with what strength you had.

“Jocelyn. Who poisoned me?” you ask flatly. You folded your arms.

 “You know what you did,” she spat out.

“No, I don’t!”

 “You should have drank all of it.”

 “Jocelyn, why? I have done everything for you! I have cleaned your clothes and room, fixed your gowns, made your breakfasts and even emptied your damned chamber pot! I have asked for nothing but my pay. You forced me to agree to do it in front of Lady Yeardley.  And this is how you repay me? You try to kill me?” you questioned angrily.

She was quiet.

“I’ll report you to the Governor. Right. Now.” you threaten. You swing your legs over and get on the floor.

You only took two steps on weak legs when she put a hand before you, and then caught you before you could fell. But as you were crumpled, she led you back to the bed. She bent down to look you in the eye.

“It would be worthless to speak to him. Look at you and look at me. I’ve dined with him countless times. He’s going to be the groomsman at my wedding. Who is he more likely to believe? A lying, thieving, whoring maid or a lady?”

 She got back up but folded her hands in front of you. Her eyes were low, her round, pale face still, and her pink lips tight.

 “Jocelyn…you still haven’t answered my question. Why did you do it?” you interrogated.

“Because you’re destroying me. And you’re destroying this colony.”

“You’re the one who almost killed me! What on earth did I do?”

“Since you’re a fool, let me tell you. You’re a whore,” she accused. Her face was still but her low voice was biting.

“Do you mean…with…with your fiancée?”

There is fire in her eyes.

“Anytime I was with him, I promise you, nothing happened. He never said or did anything to me.  He’s a gentleman; he keeps his distance. He is doesn’t love me, he loves you. Jocelyn be reasonable! Mercy says you’re the great beauty of the colony. How could he show any interest in anyone else with you as his intended!?” you begged.

“Your flattery means nothing to me” she cursed bitterly.

From her cloak, she pulled out your copy of Ovid’s The Metamorphoses.

“If you have not seduced him, explain this!” she accused.

 “He asked and I just let him borro-“

 She slammed the book into your bed and turned to the very end, where there were a few extra blank pages. Or were. Words were scribbled all over them. You jumped and your legs stung from the force of the book’s weight.

 A pink primrose exactly like the ones on your window was pressed into it.

“Read it” Jocelyn demanded.

You felt your dizziness return and your stomach hurt again. You pushed it away. You were shaking your head. This had to be a dream, this had to be a dream.

“And know this, before you claim it false,” she added.

From her stays, she got out a folded page of paper which listed the business of the Governors meeting last week.

Glancing at what was written in the book and the record, it was exactly the same.

You pulled the book close to you and almost felt your hands and arms shake as you tried to keep it up, pulling to your face. You wanted to be sure every word you saw was real.

It read:

“My darling, my little nightingale, Y/N Y/L/N,

With your consent, I must take a moment to confess to you the feelings I have been suppressing for some time. Please do not be afraid of me.

I love you. I adore you with every inch of my soul. I have never known any woman quite like you. I knew you were different from anyone else from that first day of your arrival, though I wasn’t sure how. Then I knew. You were someone I could talk to. The more I looked at you, the more I couldn’t help myself. You are one of the loveliest maidens I have ever seen. When I think of you in that flower field, how ardently I wanted to kiss you that moment, with the sun shining, the flowers around you, and your sweet smile. I’ve never felt such tenderness and wanting inside me before. I admire every bit of you, my dear friend. You are the kindest, sweetest soul I have ever met. And your courage exceeds that of many men I have known. I still remember the day you spoke with Mr. Sharrow on behalf of Miss Kett and I am still in awe such an action even happened.

I make every excuse just to walk by our colonies walls just to hear you, to see you walk by, just to glance at you. The way you shone when I taught you how to write words, shone with pure joy. Your laughter and singing! Your voice haunts me, haunts my dreams, and my day and I hear it at once with both ecstasy and torment, for I know such tender words, laughter, songs and that joy of your hand’s devotion is a gift, a gift that cannot be for me, but the happiest and most fortunate of gentlemen you choose to wed. How I envy him and hate him, whoever he may be here! I am so ashamed to admit it, but it is truth.

I have given Jocelyn a promise. A promise I must keep, as being the purpose of her journey. Yet each time I think of the day we will be joined, inside I mourn so deeply. This is the reason why I delayed the wedding. I made a pitiful, unmanly excuse about business because you were always in my thoughts. I will never have the privilege of your courtship and time. I must be bound until death to another, upon an agreement of payment I have made long ago. Though I must complete my duty in humility and obedience, know that I wish every morning I awake that it was your beautiful face I saw.

Jocelyn does not deserve to have her heart broken and her future destroyed. Can you have it in your heart to pity me? To pity her, most of all. It is Jocelyn I must marry, no matter what I may feel about you How could I be so cruel to such a good, honest woman who came here for this one sole purpose?

I do not know if you even tolerate me. If you despise the air I breathe, then I swear I will never bother you again. But now, I ask you pray for me, pray for us.

But know that though such affections I possess can never be acted on, that if you are ever in dire need of assistance, I will help you. Even if you cannot have my hand, you have the protection of anything I have and my actions. If you are ever in need, or your husband, most fortunate of men, or your children even, I will find a way to help you.

For I and my heart shall always be dedicated to you. I love you so tenderly and know that you will always be my dearest and saddest love.

Written by him, who is your humblest of servants

SC”

A shaky smile appeared on your face, though your stomach kept dropping throughout reading. A small laugh, stifled, came out of you, defiantly. Disorientation washed over you and it was as if your vision blurred for a moment.

“I must confess, I’m almost impressed. There’s a power between our legs, and at least you’ve learned to use it,” Jocelyn said.

Setting the book down, almost not daring to read it again, you stared into the open for a bit, but you heard Jocelyn continuing.

“You cast a spell over him. And it’s began ever since he kept speaking with you. So, tell me, they call you the Songbird of Jamestown, yes?”

Blinking, you looked back at her, voicing a shaky “wh-what?”

She walked over and grabbed your face, pinching at the mouth. Her face got into yours and you could feel the hot breath come out of her.

“Did those musical little lips suck his cock and is that why he does everything you insist?” she hissed.

“H-H-How d-dare you speak such…such lewd things!” you retorted, jerking away, nearly slapping her hand out.

You nursed the spot on your jaw tenderly. You turned away and saw the book. While Jocelyn was distracted you hid it under your blankets.

“Jocelyn, he’s going to marry you, whatever he may think of me. Don’t you see what it’s really saying? He’s letting me go. You’ve won.” You reasoned.

“You may think so. But now he hardly listens to me. He doesn’t do anything I ask him to. No matter what I try. And it’s began since your little romp in the flowers. If you are here, you are a threat to me and my marriage.” She said.

“What are you asking him to do?” you ask.

You noticed how high your shoulders had gotten to your ears and forced them down.

She paused, folding her hands in front of her.

“You don’t understand, Y/N. I’m going to lead him to greatness, for us. For the colony. Wouldn’t you like things to change? Wouldn’t things be better if Samuel was in charge? Not Farlow or Redwick or Massenger?” she interrogated.

“What’s wrong with Yeardley? And how do you plan on getting it, though? And I…I don’t think you understand, people die playing these games. Do you want to die? Do want Samuel to die?” you ask.

“Oh, Samuel.” She prodded. “Not Master Castell anymore? That’s a little more intimate, aren’t we? Do you love him?”

You froze.

“I know you’re a terrible liar. And I know what they do to liars here when they’re caught.” She added.

She kept her close distance but remained standing. Her eyes stared right into you, though your head dipped down low and you buried your face in your hands.

“Do. You. Love. him?”

Tears stained your eyes. That feeling, burning and bubbling in the depths of you was suddenly coming out. No matter how much you tried to deny it or ignore it for the greater good, for even your own safety, it was still singing, screaming in the back. Now it was getting louder, and louder.

“I…I think I do. I…I wish he…if only he was just a farmer, not the recorder, just so I could be with him!” you confessed.

Breathing in deep, you felt a weight had been freed from you. There was a silence, heavy with what she would say next.

“Then understand you are what is holding him back. That’s what love is. It holds us back. I’m going to bring him to greatness. I’m going to make him have things beyond even his own understanding. He could be a farmer. Or he could change everything and bring those men down and set things right here.” She explained, towering over you.

“By controlling him? Making him do things he doesn’t want to? Dangerous things?” you blurted.

“That’s how men work. And this place is ruled by them. We have to control them if we’re going to survive here as women.”

“But a harmless soul as his? Control Farlow, all you would like, Massanger, or Redwick, but…Samuel? He wants nothing of treachery, why make him treacherous?”

“That’s your weakness. You’re still clinging to love, thinking that’s what’s going to save you. I was like you once. I was proven wrong. Love doesn’t save you. It destroys you. And the sooner you let it go, the better you will be. I hope you’ve figured that out. You’re leaving here.” She scolded.

“To England? The company will send me back. They need to pay back the tobacco pounds on all of us.”

She then reached in her pocket and pulled out some letters.

“You know of the communities right outside here? I’ve written to the men of Charles City. Any women who isn’t immediately bound in marriage must go there. And there are at least three men over there are curious about you to be their wife.”

Not too far for the company but far enough you thought.

You barely glanced over it. It listed names, possessions, their house, and what they planted. One name, only one name. One name that would stand out. One name to stamp out Samuel’s. But none could. None of them had the name of the one you knew you wanted.

And who knew who these men actually were like? If you were lucky, they would be loving.

But at worst, you could be bound to another Henry Sharrow. You fought the urge to vomit again.

“Tomorrow, you will gather your things. Leave this town. Pick one. Marry him. And stay there.” Jocelyn demanded.

“I won’t. I won’t do it,” you voiced.

Jocelyn walked up and hissed at you softly.

“If you don’t, you are dead.”

“You couldn’t do that.”

“I almost succeeded. I have resources, don’t think I couldn’t.”

Your breath left you and you released a small cry of fear, your limbs nearly froze.

With all the bitterness and anger you had forced silent inside your soul for weeks, you looked Jocelyn in the eye and spat out “bitch.”

It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t dignified. It was not even mature. But it felt good.

“Never heard that one before,” she remarked sarcastically.

You turned around and, though still shaking, you got up on your feet. Jocelyn didn’t raise an eyebrow.

“Good day, Miss Y/L/N. And a blessing upon your marriage,” she finished with a smile.

You were determined not to be sent off without the last word. Now you had something. It wasn’t safe to say it, but if you were blessed to never see Jocelyn again, you might as well say it when you had the chance.

Tugging nervously on your shift you said “this isn’t the first time you’ve poisoned someone, Jocelyn.”

She froze and glared back at you, she took a few steps, threatening to charge at you like a predator.

“You little, sneaking slut!”

“And how is being a sneaking slut any better than being a liar and a murderer?” you snapped.

Jocelyn froze in her track, but continued her fiery glare into your eyes.

“Tell me, when a man makes a bet that he can take your virginity among his friends, takes it as they watch, and he wins, how much will you believe in love, then? How can you even trust men’s souls, then?” she croaked, now tears were barely going down her cheeks.

 “It’s not men’s souls, Jocelyn. It’s what they’ve done. You’ve been hurt so you shut yourself off to keep yourself safe. And now that you have refused love, you’ve even refused the love that makes you care for others. All you can do is hurt others.”

You swallowed, got up from your bed, stood up quickly while you had the strength, and interrupted before Jocelyn could interject.

 “You cannot love, you can’t love people or least of all yourself. That’s only because you have been betrayed. You’ve been hurt. But you could have used that pain to help others. Have you talked to Alice about what Henry did to her? Or Verity? You could have helped them. But you have let your pain make you harsh to underserving people. Good people. Samuel. Mercy, even, and she’s a child with nothing!”

You took two steps closer to her.

“But…you cannot help, truly, genuinely help. Only reward people you think you trust. That’s because all you know to do is hurt. For that, you will never know peace or contentment, and you have more than my disgust, you have my pity.”

   She marches up to you and grabs you by the hair, growling into your ear “leave by tomorrow, or you’re dead.”

  She then brushed any dirt or wrinkles off her dress, set her hat back up on her head, and walked out.

  Alone, you collapsed on the bed. You were done with being brave. You were done with being strong. You wanted to be weak. You let yourself sob and sob.

You look barely at the letters of these suitors you have never even heard of, asking you for your soul, body, mind, possessions, and even possible children to be owned by them until death take one of you.

“The time’s gonna come fer yer freedom and maidenhead whether ya ready fer it or not!”

Then you look at Samuel’s letter in your book, you press it to your heart, and let your cries continue and continue, gingerly touching the petals of the pink primrose and even noticing the fresh bunch at your window.

So it…it wasn’t James at all! How could I be so stupid, I’m an idiot…

 Could Jocelyn really kill you? How? The possibilities kept running through your head.

You had no idea how much money she brought with her but maybe she could hire someone to do it.

Or she probably already planted one of her possessions in your home. If someone noticed it, they could accuse you of stealing, go to Jocelyn, who’d give her testimony that you stole, give your truth and let it fall on deaf ears and then you would have to make the fatal walk outside the colony walls to the gallows.

She already fooled you into being poisoned. She could find a way to take and poison your food. Had she even poisoned the food you had when you weren’t looking.

And you didn’t know about how your physical strength could hold up.  Jocelyn was slender and knew nothing of tasks requiring physical extremes. But that didn’t mean if she got possession of a gun or knife she wouldn’t be able to attack you.

Being at the wrong place at the wrong time could put you at risk. Perhaps she would drown you in the river if you went to do your laundry.

If she got that book and letter back, she could bring it to the court, make accusations of adultery, and get you hanged.

Finally, after a while, Christopher returned with Mercy trailing behind him.

“Mercy…how kind you are…and Christopher…”

“I asked my Master if I could make this broth for you, and he agreed. He has a kind heart, he does!” she chatted, handing you a cup.

You swallowed it gratefully, smiling at how for once your stomach did not reject it.

“He…yes, he does,” you answered. “Speaking of which…where…where is he?”

“There’s a large trial and many things he must record. He has a busy workday but sends his prayers to you. Now, take twice the dose, Miss. You will be a little weak today, but you should be fine. I insisted the church forgive your absences these next two days so you could recover. You’ll be strong by the day after tomorrow.” Doctor Priestly said.

He brought another batch of the medicine and handed it to you in a small vial with two spoons.

You swallowed the two spoonful’s and kept it down best you could.

“I saw Mistress Woodbyrg come in after a while. Even when she chided me, I thought it a blessing, the bit time I was there.” Mercy reported, folding her hands in front of her.

You only stared onto your blanket, right down.

Oh, dear Mercy, you don’t know the half of it and for your happiness I hope you never do!

“Oh, you are so lucky to already be working for her. There is never a lovelier lady! Although, she’s been quite troubled lately. Oh, she frowned so when I worked for her and it vexed me so much! But I’ve been praying every hour for her, when I could” Mercy chattered, she even folded her hands together and brought it up to her chin dreamily.

You were quiet for a moment. Mercy worshipped the ground Jocelyn walked on. She was someone perhaps the child wanted to be. But… should she have such a rosy view shattered? Jocelyn seemed to give her meaning and joy in her life. There was a fairy tale princess under her roof, no matter what that princess said or did.

“Mercy…tell Master Castell…thank you, for allowing you to make this broth and…Mercy, may I please have a bit of parchment, please? And something to write with? There’s…a quill and ink on the table.”

“How come, Miss?”

“I’ve…uhm…been practicing writing.”

“My, what a good skill! How lucky you are to be learning it, how clever you must be oh…”

There was a weight that you felt dragging you down, and the child took note.

“Why, what is it, Miss Y/L/N?”

“I…I just need to try to write. I can’t be idle even when sick…”

“Why, why yes indeed! As Psalms and Captain Smith do say, one must wake up and be industrious, it’s how we can praise the Lord himself. But…I am so glad you are well.

Doctor Priestly stood by in the corner, smiling at the sweet words said and observing quietly. Mercy handed you the quill and ink and then knelt by your bedside.

“I really am. I never had many friends. Mere few. And a lot of them died. And my master is gentle but…we can’t be friends. He gives me me earnings and that’s that. So…I’m just so thankful,” she said softly.

“I’m thankful to be your friend too, Mercy.”

She looked up at the smiling doctor, who gestured for her to come, and she left accompanied by him.

You stared at the parchment and backed it against your book. Your brain was brimming with words. Words that would have explained everything. Most of all, why. But your hand only knew how to write a few.

You wanted to see him. You wanted to get out of your bed and crawl through the muddy streets to wherever he was and collapse onto him.

But anger overtook you. It was his own letter that probably confirmed Jocelyn’s suspicions and put you in danger in the first place!

You wanted to even yell at him, to take that mud and throw it to smear his lovely face. To take that stick from that day by the river and beat him with it with all of your strength. All for the trouble this lovely letter put you through. If this was a plot and he was working with Jocelyn, then he had betrayed your trust and put you in great danger.

And if it wasn’t. Jocelyn proved it was his handwriting, after all. Or at least, it was not a forgery. He could have lied through this letter from Jocelyn’s or even someone else’s doing to get you out of your discouragement of him being too deeply involved in the intrigue.

But…you brain interrupted as you lifted the quill, hands shaking…what if it was?

If it wasn’t. If he meant every word of that letter, it meant…it meant that he really did see you. You. Humble little you. With ninety women that had just arrived, and he wanted! If nothing stood in his way, the gentlest, sweetest man in all of the colony, if not, even in all of England’s far kingdom or the world perhaps loved you.

But there was one thing in the way. And it was your life.

You wished desperately it was a letter with false intentions instead.

You dipped the quill into the ink as it sat gently on your bed and scribbled out seven words.

“Goodbye. I will miss you- Y/N Y/L/N.”

Not painless. But quick and to the point. It dried in a few minutes, the dark purple ink turning into the color of violets. The scrap was hidden in the book. You put it next to the pansy.

You barely slept that night and spent it packing or pacing.

Doctor Priestly arrived the next day with new medicine. But the doctor noticed the packed bag resting on the table.

“Are you alright, Y/N? You’ve lost so much of your color, even after the medicine” he asked.

“I’m…I’m just sad. I’m leaving. I haven’t been married yet and the company’s insisting I leave to fix that. I have a few marriages offers from Charles City. I have friends here, though. I will miss everyone,” you said.

You handed him the papers and letter from the men and the doctor nodded in understanding.

It wasn’t a lie, but some details perhaps he could not be trusted with yet.

“I’ve heard good things about you, Miss Y/L/N, our dear songbird. We will all miss you too,” he answered, giving you a last spoonful of medicine.

After he left, Mercy returned with one last cup of broth.

“I always insist a cup after will do good!” she chirruped.

“Mercy…I’m going to leave today.”

“Why?”

“To…to get married, please send this to your master.” You said, holding out the scrap.

“Shouldn’t I fetch ‘im, so you can tell him instead?”

“No! I mean…don’t trouble him when he has so much work. I just wanted to say goodbye to him, for…for helping me and Alice. He greeted me and was kind to me.” you explained quickly, though you felt yourself biting your lip.

Mercy nodded and left quietly, looking at the note with big, confused eyes. You saw a shininess that would bring on tears and she even put her hand over her mouth.

“Oh, Mercy!” you exclaimed, a sudden wave hitting you.

You ran up and hugged her.

“Oh…Miss…Miss!” she cried, letting herself sob too.

You bit back your tears and whispered to her.

“Listen to me, never let anyone treat you poorly. Don’t be like me. I’m a coward. Be brave. Fight back with all your strength and…please promise me you’ll do whatever it takes, be happy and safe…” you instructed.

Mercy blinked, in more confusion, and then hugged back.

“I…I will miss” she blubbered. She let go and gave you a sad smile and then left.

Your bags only had what was essential to travel and then some. Your books, your clothes, and your lace gloves, the only luxury the company promised you. And the only luxury it delivered. You even got bits of food, who knew how long the journey would last, the quicker you would leave, the better.

And even if Jocelyn had poisoned them when you weren’t looking, you decided it didn’t matter anyway.

You dressed plainly. Looking at your reflection in the window, you did look like you lost your color. Your cheeks had hollowed some. Your eyes had darkened underneath. It was as if you were now a ghost of whoever you were when you entered this house.

Walking outside, you took the last of the wilted primroses and put it into your apron pocket.

You walked past the people going about. Past the church, past the tavern, past James beating into a new piece of metal with a loud CLANG, and past the smelly dogs and hogs running through the street freely and housewives adorned in aprons all looking for corn in the market that could be bought today, past the muddy areas you had to hop over, past the nice red doors where men in ruffs and fine cloaks discussed power with soft voices, and towards that opening and the ocean of green before it.

As you neared the entrance, you could make out a cart just near where the graves were marked. It almost seemed as if it planted among the crop of little wooden crosses. It was led by it seemed a brown horse and another man, he was tan, short, stout, and had dark hair and a dark beard with grey streaks. He wore a straw hat and seemed to be chewing on something. He stared out into the open of the green field and the trees just beyond. But he was smiling, and his eyes were beaming like stars.

Though Jocelyn covered your leave, he did not seem the type to be a hired assassin. It was the cart. Breathing in deeply, you took a few steps to get on that cart that would take you to your new life to forget all of this.

“Miss Y/L/N…”

Your breath stopped and you paused. Continuing it, you decided you would not speak to him turned away. You turned your head and looked at him. The one voice you did not want to hear at this time. But you knew you had to. You couldn’t just leave him with just a scrap of paper, as much as you had denied it.

Blinking away any more tears that may have popped up, you turned around to face him. At least one final time before your new life awaited.

[taehyungiestummy]

Return to Paradise -- Chapter Ten

Masterlist     Previous     Next

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3177

         “I think watching the dance will help me get to music video day,” I smile, speaking Korean seeming less like a hassle around the boys.

         “After they film, are you going to show Taehyung your notebook?” Emily moves around to be more comfortable on the floor.

         I fix my flower scarf; Taehyung’s hickey on me can’t be seen by any of the boys. They will flip. “I think so, since I brought it,” I pat the notebook on my lap, stretching my legs out in front of me. “I have to read it to him, though.”

         “He’ll enjoy that.”

         The door to the practice room opens, and the boys walk in. They had a restroom break because an empty bladder is optimal for dancing, and Emily and I showed up right when they had left the room.

         “Yoongi, we are matching!” I giggle, showing my black high-top Converse by kicking my feet up into the air.

         “Very cute, little one,” Yoongi grins. His outfit consists of black shorts showing his knees, a white baseball type jersey with black sleeves, and a black baseball cap on backwards.

         “I like the shorts, showing off the legs,” Taehyung smirks, winking at me. “I love your confidence. Jagi, you have grown so much in that regard.” He’s wearing black and white tennis-like shoes, black pants with subtle white lines, a baggy red sweater of sorts, and a black baseball cap with the visor red and translucent.

         “She looks so ready to cuddle in that sweater,” Jimin smirks. “Do you like our group?”

         I chuckle, looking down at my sweater with the ‘Skool Luv Affair’ cover on it. “I like you boys, and support your work.”

         “Cute,” Jimin chuckles. He’s wearing red high-top looking shoes, grey sweatpants, a baggy white t-shirt, and a black baseball cap with a symbol in the middle that I don’t know.

         “Think we’ll be able to learn this dance one day?” Emily speaks up, adjusting her white skirt.

         “Maybe, if you two really want to,” Namjoon smiles. He is wearing black low-top Converse, black pants that stop mid-shin, a white shirt underneath a black one, and a black flat cap. “Your shirt is very cute, Emily. Polka dots suit you.”

         “That’s what I say,” I playfully shove the girl next to me.

         “Shut up you two,” Emily chuckles. “Thanks though, I like polka dots.”

         “I still don’t understand why Amber is wearing a scarf,” Jungkook says. “It’s not cold outside.” The maknae is wearing Timberland boots, jeans, and a slightly baggy white t-shirt.

         “American fashion,” Emily speaks up, coming to my rescue. She nudges me with one of her sandal clad feet. “Isn’t that right, Amber?”

         “Oh, um, yes,” I choke out. “It’s light, so I don’t get hot.”

         “I like it,” Seokjin says. “You look very cute.” He’s wearing white, black, and possibly purple Korean shoes, black shorts, a slightly baggy white t-shirt with a symbol on the breast pocket I don’t recognize.

         “Why don’t you teach us about American fashion?” Hoseok whines.

         “Maybe because we don’t want you to look like annoying American boys that we go to school with.” I confusingly look around at the boys. “We like you for your Korean fashion, and we want you to keep doing what you feel comfortable with.

         “You could just look it up on the internet if you really want to know,” Emily says.

         “No fun,” Hoseok pouts. He’s wearing black high-top like shoes with flames on the side, grey shorts, and a t-shirt that has a basketball jersey on it.

         “Jimin, you’ve got-” I smirk.

         “No!” Jimin cuts me off.

         “No jams!” Taehyung, Jungkook, and I shout out.

         “I hate you all!” Jimin groans.

         I giggle, “Come on, I think you have a dance practice to film.”

         The camera is set up facing a clean end of the room, and the boys are ready to record.

         Namjoon is standing in the middle with Jungkook as the music starts. After his opener, he walks off to give Jungkook his time. Jungkook does his part, and Jimin walks in right at the end. The red head does his thing as the rest of the boys rush in.

         The chorus dance is one of the greatest things to grace my eyes. It is quick, with clean movements that flow together. Taehyung is one cheeky boy, as he sexily bites his lip whenever he catches my eye, winking once or twice, and letting his tongue pass his lips a few times. It makes my heart skip a beat.

         The chorus ends, and Seokjin, Namjoon, and Taehyung rush off screen. I look over at Taehyung, glaring as he smirks. With the shake of my head, I turn to the four boys still dancing. Hoseok is the main one dancing with the other three boys as backup. Yoongi catches my eye, and we smile at one another.

         The three other boys on the side rush in as Yoongi’s part starts up. His rap is clean over the speakers, and his dancing is perfect for him. Taehyung is up next, and he continues teasing me. This time using his hands more.

         Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi rush off to the side as Seokjin’s part begins. Then Jungkook takes over, and eventually all the boys are back in frame. The chorus begins again, and I decide to focus on Yoongi. He smiles again when he catches my gaze.

         Namjoon’s rap is next, and he becomes the center of attention. My eyes can’t help flickering between Taehyung and Yoongi. Jungkook and Taehyung high-five as it transitions to Taehyung’s part again. This time my boyfriend isn’t teasing as much.

         Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi rush off to the side again as Seokjin’s part starts up. Yoongi ruffles my hair before having to rush back out as Jungkook takes center stage again. The chorus dance is lovely, even for the third time. Seven boys looking hot will never get old.

         Jimin and Jungkook have a small alternating part where Jimin takes most of the attention.

         I catch Taehyung’s eye, and I can’t help but mouth, “Fuck you.”

         Taehyung smiles for a few seconds, thinking something I don’t think I want to know.

         The seven boys dive into the chorus dance for the last time as the song is coming to an end. For their last move, they spin on their heels, giving a thumbs up. As soon as the camera has stopped recording, Emily and I burst into cheers. Deep breathing comes from the boys who slowly relax their bodies and turn around.

         “Ah, that was so cool!” I giggle, falling onto my back.

         “So you liked it?” Jungkook asks.

         “Liked it?” Emily scoffs. “No, we loved it.”

         “Something about it just makes me so excited to see the music video,” I smile. “You boys are something else.”

         “Was I good, jagi?” Taehyung chuckles.

         “At what? Dancing or teasing me?”

         “She can get back at you Tae,” Namjoon speaks up. “What out.”

         “Your dancing was good, Tae,” I smile. “Everyone’s was.”

         “I see you have your notebook with you today,” Yoongi sits down next to me. “Showing your boyfriend your love poems?”

         “Yes, and then I can show you the ones that I wrote about you.”

         “About me?”

         “Yeah,” I turn my head to see Yoongi smiling. “Best friend, remember?”

         “Oh, yeah. You’re so cute, little one,” his gummy smile stays on his face for a bit longer. “Now, why the scarf, really? I can catch your lives.”

         “Yoongi,” I pout. “It is a fashion thing. I wanted to try it out.”

         “Come on, Amber, tell me.”

         “Nope,” I puff my cheeks out.

         In the next moment, Yoongi’s nimble piano fingers are tickling me.

         “Yoongi,” I squeal in laughter. “This isn’t fun. You are so mean.”

         “It is fun for me,” Yoongi doesn’t stop his tickle attack.

         Through all my wiggling and attempts to grab his hands, my scarf falls off my neck.

         “Little one,” Yoongi’s face changes from happy to angry in a split second. “Is that what I think it is?”

         “Yoongi, please, it’s not that big of a deal,” I sit up, not caring about the mark that everyone can see now.

         “Taehyung?” Yoongi is up and standing in an instant.

         “Yes?” Taehyung turns away from Jungkook and Jimin.

         “Ah, looks like Taehyung wanted everyone to know who Amber is with,” Hoseok smirks.

         “Aish, Tae, that mark,” Namjoon laughs. “You aren’t always so cute and innocent.

         “Shut up,” Taehyung nervously mess with the hair at the back of his head.

         “I’m going to kill you,” Yoongi clenches his hands into fists.

         “Yoongi,” I stand up, moving my hair to hide the hickey as best I can.

         “Why do you care so much?” Taehyung comes to step in front of Yoongi. “She’s my girlfriend, she consented. Why be so protective of her?”

         “Because she’s like the little sister I never had, and I feel I have to keep her safe because she’s alone over here,” Yoongi answers.

         I put my hand up in Emily’s direction as her mouth opens, letting her know not to say anything regarding me being alone. I know that he means someone other than my best friend.

         “I am protecting her,” Taehyung lets out an agitated breath. “Yoongi-hyung, don’t you trust me? I love her so much and will always keep her safe.”

         I step in between the two boys, not caring about what has been said. I just look at Yoongi before wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his chest.

         Yoongi tenses up, not sure how to take my embrace. “Little one, please, let me handle this.”

         “No,” I shake my head as best I can. “Yoongi, having you treat me as a little sister and care for me as one is something I need and appreciate. We need one another. I know you aren’t just some closed off rapper. I also know that you do struggle with your emotions. Please, don’t stop protecting me, but know that some things you can’t control. Tae and I love each other, so certain things are going to happen. Relax, let my Taehyung live, and I’ll be the little sister you never had.”

         Yoongi slowly wraps his arms around me, “If it will make you happy, I will try. I still don’t like it, him marking you up like that. You have to stay pure. Boys are dirty minded idiots. Not me, though.”

         I giggle, “I believe you.”

         “Emily said Amber was dirty minded herself, so she’s a perfect fit,” Jungkook says. “Besides the idiot part.”

         “Just come live with us,” Jimin pleads.

         “We practically are this July,” I smile.

         “Then next year, surprises for you,” Emily says.

         “Surprises?” Hoseok questions. “Like what?”

         “Should we tell them?” I look over at Emily.

         “Tell them whatever you want,” Emily shrugs.

         I turn around in Yoongi’s grip to face the boys. “Well, we graduate next spring, so we are free. That means we will be over here for an undetermined amount of time. Everything is up in the air right now, but we have a few ideas.”

         “Come live here,” Taehyung innocently bites his bottom lip. “We can live together.”

         “I would like that,” I reach back and pat Yoongi’s upper arms. “Don’t hurt him.”

         “Barely thought about it,” Yoongi gives me a gentle squeeze.

         “Badass brother and a cute boyfriend,” I giggle.

         “Plus five other boys,” Emily points out. “That are there for you.”

         “Okay, enough of this,” I break out of Yoongi’s grip. “You guys have dancing and whatnot to do, so let’s get to work!”

********

         “Okay, so, someone has a few new marks,” Nari smirks, placing the take-out on the coffee table.

         “Shut up,” I sink into the couch, trying to disappear into myself. “He can’t help himself sometimes, and I don’t really think about it when it’s happening. I got back at him, though. It was weird, and not my face is burning up.”

         “So red,” Emily teases, tickling my jaw.

         “Ugh, at least you didn’t flip out like Yoongi. He really showed how much he wants to protect me from the outside world.”

         “He is like a brother,” Nari takes her food and sits down in her recliner. “Protective is like his middle name.”

         “He was protective alright,” Emily hands me food before grabbing her own. “I thought he was going to punch Taehyung.”

         “These new marks had him stewing silently, but a hair ruffle had him smiling for me,” I take a bite of my sandwich. “He’s accepting it, slowly.”

         “What about you, Emily?” Nari asks. “All we talk about is the two lovers. How are you and Namjoon?”

         “Yes, please, talk about them,” I shove more food into my mouth.

         “Well, we went on that date, and I had a wonderful time,” Emily smiles. “The two of us had so much to talk about. Being away for so many months will do that. Our kisses stayed on the lips though, because we are good.”

         “Stop,” I chug some Pepsi. “They are going to stop appearing. Tas has embarrassed me enough. If I keep blushing, my cheeks may never stop being red.”

         “So the outburst from Yoongi happened four days ago?” Nari asks.

         “Yes,” Emily nods. “There days have gone by since then, and not much has really happened.”

         “Just studio fun times,” I giggle. “I read Tae some of my poems about him.”

         “How did that go?” Nari shoves food into her mouth.

         “He snuggled me so hard,” I run a hand as best I can through my tangled hair. “Couldn’t stop saying how much he loves me, and that I am the best thing to happen since BTS. It was very sweet. Made me heart swell.”

         “She also let Yoongi read poems about him,” Emily says.

         “Oh, that must have been interesting,” Nari smiles.

         “It kind of was,” I nod. “He didn’t need me to help understand what things meant as much. He was smiling so big, the gummy smile that is so amazing, like, he was so happy. He praised my skills way too much, but I took the compliments.”

         “With a blush,” Emily chuckles. “Can’t forget that. It was so cute, like always.”

         “Cute boys saying nice things to me just get me all flustered.”

         “What about today?” Nari asks. “Didn’t they have a day off?”

         “They did, and Amber and I decided to give them a day to relax,” Emily answers. “So we stayed here. Enjoying our summer home.”

         “Aw, did your boys miss you?”

         “Of course,” I sigh. “So many phone calls. I refused to do video chats because we didn’t really get ready today. It was nice to hear their voices.”

         “Seokjin brought me a homecooked lunch,” Nari dreamily smiles. “I am blessed to have him in my life.”

         “Too cute,” Emily and I giggle.

         “I guess so,” Nari’s cheeks redden a tad. “He’s the caretaker of BTS for a reason, and now he makes me feel like a princess by doing those types of things.”

         “He is a sweetheart,” Emily says. “Always making sure we are good and have everything we need. Just like a mom. Wow, being the oldest means you have to be responsible for everyone. That’s what he’s doing.”

         “Still a huge cutie and not too strict,” Nari smiles.

         “How is it being public?” I blurt out. “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

         “No worries. Um, being public is, I don’t know. The fans know what I look like and my name. I have all my social media private, and they don’t seem to pry. It’s not messing with my life, if that’s what you want to know. I’ve had a few fans come up to me, but really, not that much has changed.”

         “Ah, that’s good,” I sit up, no longer embarrassed like I was.  “Going public is not really on the radar, but I know it will happen at some point, and it kind of scares me.”

         “Same,” Emily adds. “I know we are going to get hate, I mean, that’s what happens when you date famous people. Fans will feel entitled, but I wonder if it is still worth it for the boys to show us off.”

         “Yes, because hate will fuel us to be better,” I nod. “Plus, the boys’ love will help. They can always cheer us up.”

         “Going public shouldn’t even be on your minds,” Nari says. “They will hide you for the rest of the summer. They don’t like sharing.”

         “It will happen though,” I sigh. “We will be in magazines and whatever. People will figure it out at some time. They will know that two Western girls are dating idols. Crazy to try and wrap my mind around.”

         “Seven boys will be there to protect you, so no need to worry and stress.”

         “Have you met Amber?” Emily chuckles as she pats my shoulder. “That’s all she does. Her brain is just programmed that way.”

         “Well, try not to worry and stress,” Nari says. “Do anything to keep your focus off that. Everything is going to happen when it needs to, and just go with the flow.”

         “So full of wisdom,” Emily says.

         “Eh, not wisdom,” Nari laughs.

         “You know what would be fun?” I ask, not waiting for an answer. “Going to award shows and walking the carpet. No matter how introverted I am, I could do that. I’d love to do that.”

         “Introverted is what again?” Nari asks.

         “People tire Amber out,” Emily answers as I yawn. “Certain people don’t do that to here, and sometimes it doesn’t matter. We stayed home today so she could recharge. More than give the boys their space, which was a factor.”

         “I was just so worn out,” I place my trash on the coffee table. “The boys, because of there being seven of them, drain me the fastest. They understand why I stop talking for periods of time and snuggle up to someone if I can. Still, I can pull myself together to go out, if I am with Taehyung.”

         “Don’t you also have social anxiety?” Nari asks.

         “Eh, yeah,” I bite my bottom lip for a few seconds. “I try to be more vocal and all, but sometimes I just can’t do it. People can be too much for me, and I over think a lot when around new people.”

         “That’s what I am here for,” Emily rubs my shoulder. “To help you when you can’t do something. Best friends are there for one another no matter what.”

         I lean into Emily, “Yeah, that’s right. I’d go crazy without you.”

         “Do you girls want to watch a K-drama before bed?” Nari asks, reaching for the remote.

         “That sounds interesting,” Emily places her arm around my shoulders. “Just an episode or two, Amber really needs some rest.”

         I yawn, “I don’t know why. Jet lag is gone, so I should be all good now.”

         “It just happens,” Nari shrugs. “I got like it sometimes. Just a few episodes, and then off to bed.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sorry it has been a while since a chapter came out for this! I am now working to get this story all ready for posting, so hopefully each Wednesday there will be a new chapter! Hope you enjoyed reading! I’d love to know what you thought! :D

[aquaquadrant]

Title: it wears a mask Chapter Warnings: Minor language, nightmares Summary: Beck has a change of heart at the trainyard and takes Peter captive instead. In many ways, it turns out much, much worse. (NOT SLASH)

Chapter Seven Preview

Peter sits hunched on the bed, picking idly at the cast on his hand.

It’s been one week since the London attack. Peter knows this from the news reports. They’ve caught up to current time, now (the final death toll was one-hundred and three) so the reports are coming less frequently. He’ll go hours with the room being dead silent, then suddenly the drone will roar to life and project a three-minute news segment on his wall before blinking out again.

People are moving on, it looks like. After all, the ‘villain’ was taken down, no loose ends left, and overall it was considered a win despite the casualties and destruction. The world has other things to look at now, Peter imagines. That’s natural. That’s human.

He would’ve expected himself to feel relieved that people are moving on. That the news reports have stopped. They were hard to watch, hard to hear. But the absence of any sound, movement, or color in his cell is stark, and hits him much harder than he would have anticipated.

How twisted, that he’s been made to wish for bad news if only to take the edge off his isolation.

In the past few days, Peter has spent most of his waking moments either trying to sleep, or pacing. He doesn’t get much sleep at night because the cell is pitch black and that sets him on edge. The scattered naps he manages to take during the day don’t feel like enough to shake the weariness from his bones.

Despite his tiredness, he paces. He has to, to have something to do. The cell is a perfect square, he’s found. Five steps from wall to wall in any direction. He’s all but memorized the sound his own feet make on the concrete floor, muffled by his socks but feeling much louder than they ought to in the otherwise silent cell. It beats a rhythm in his skull when he paces, and he’s grateful it gives him something to focus on.

He feels twitchier than normal- if there’s such thing as a normal level of twitchiness. When Virgil came in yesterday to check on his stitches, Peter jumped so bad he hit the ceiling. Literally. His head is still sore.

Aside from taking care of the bump on his head, Virgil informed Peter that the reason he hadn’t heard anything from Beck recently is because Beck out travelling under a false identity. Something about conducting some shady business he wants to keep under the radar.

Fine by Peter. The less he has to listen to that guy, the better.

Except now he has no one to ask whether MJ and Ned are doing okay. Whether May is doing okay. Or how Queens is doing without him there to protect it; his school, his neighborhood. It kills him, not knowing. And if Beck was here maybe Peter could ask for some time out to stretch his legs, and figure out if the itch beneath the skin of his wrist is because of his cast or because he’s never gone this long without using his web shooters.

The people who bring him his meals don’t answer his questions, and even if Virgil would tell him, he doesn’t know. So, Peter’s left wondering and pacing, and almost wishing Beck would return already, which feels terrible because he hates Beck but it’s his only way to get answers.

Peter knows he’s in dangerous waters. It’s as clear a trap around him as concrete walls; isolating him in every sense of the word, making him solely reliant on Beck… it’s deliberate. Everything about Beck lends to the notion. He’s the kind of person who’s had his moves planned out before even starting the game. But the scariest thing is that Peter has no idea what end Beck is playing at.

It still haunts him, not knowing why Beck spared his life. On the surface, Beck’s motives are clear; he wants to be a famous hero, to gain power and notoriety. He’s already well on his way, and he doesn’t need Peter to do it.

Even using him to threaten Ned and MJ isn’t strictly necessary. Beck could easily just kill them, as much as Peter shudders at the thought. The fact that he hasn’t, and instead went through all this effort of keeping Peter locked up… it means Peter doesn’t truly know his enemy, and that’s a bad place to be.

Seeing as how he can’t fight, and he can’t escape, his only option is to play along. That’s scary, too. Peter knows what Stockholm syndrome is. He knows it can start setting in as early as three days in, and he’s been here almost a week.

And every second he’s here means that there’s no one stopping Beck’s scheming, and more and more innocent people are put a risk. Beck’s already caused so much damage, but Peter can almost sense an invisible clock hanging over him, counting down the days until enough damage is done that he can’t come back from it.

Peter thinks back to everything he’s heard about Tony’s kidnapping in Afghanistan, so many years ago. In all the time Peter knew him, he never worked up the courage to ask about that time, to ask how he managed not to lose hope during his long captivity.

Peter’s really regretting that now.

The drone roars to life, and Peter gives a violent start, his heart pounding and tremors running through his body. A projection flickers onto the wall, and the voice of the news reporter he’s gotten so familiar with starts to talk. Another report on the London cleanup. More talk of destruction, all the dead and misplaced people.

Peter tips his head back against the wall and blinks away tears.

~*~

Beck wakes up to Edith’s voice.

“Herod has reported that target is experiencing extreme distress.”

Blinking awake, Beck sits up and fumbles for the glasses on his bedside table. The hotel room is pitch black, the only light coming from the digital clock that he accidentally smacks off the table. It clatters to the floor, where the time ‘2:54 AM’ beams up at him.

Beck manages to get the glasses on his face without poking an eye out, wishing for the convenience of his suit. But travelling incognito requires discretion, and the glasses are the most casual, easily concealed host he has for Edith. Maybe he ought to hook her up to one of those smart watches, the glasses aren’t really his kind of look.

“Define ‘distress,’” Beck mutters, rubbing his face beneath the glasses.

“Target is unconscious, heart rate is dangerously high.”

Shit. “Project Herod’s feed over my view.”

“Projecting feed.”

Before Beck’s eyes, Peter’s room comes into view. The gray-scale image tells him the lights are off, and Herod is recording using night vision; it’s late, even with the time difference between them. Peter’s in his bed, but it takes a second for the image to clear up because he’s thrashing around so much.

For a heart-stopping second, Beck thinks Peter might be having some kind of seizure. But then the audio kicks in, and he hears Peter screaming. It’s a wordless scream, and it writhes, pitching up into a wail and dropping down into a sob between breaths. It’s an electric jolt to Beck’s senses, where moments ago he’d been barely awake, he now feels like he’s been drenched with ice water.

“Put my voice through,” Beck orders Edith. “Peter, can you hear me? Shit, Edith, increase volume by five- Peter, wake up, can you hear me?”

Finally, Peter stills. He pushes himself upright, chest heaving for breath. Tears are still running down his face, and- oh goddamn it, he’s worked a couple stitches loose from his wound. There’s a panicked, hazy look to his eyes as he glances around. Must’ve been some hell of a nightmare.

Beck lets out a breath. “Jesus, kid, don’t scare me like that. I get woken up at 3 AM to find you’re practically sending yourself into cardiac arrest. Jesus christ.”

Peter blinks a few times, confused. “Beck?”

“Yeah, who else?” Beck huffs.

“Oh god.” Peter covers his face with his hands, and Beck can see them trembling. “God. You- you were alerted just because I w- was having a bad dream? What the hell.”

“Language,” Beck chides, just to spite the teen. “And yeah, Herod is monitoring your physical state just in case you try to escape or come down with a sudden affliction. It can’t really differentiate you freaking out over something like this, though.”

Peter’s still breathing fast. Every couple of seconds, a sudden twitch seizes his muscles. “I wasn’t freaking out, I- I was just- why do you even care?” He looks torn between horror and accusation, between being frustrated with Beck for seeing him like this, or frustrated with himself for being like this in the first place. “Why do you- you didn’t h- have to wake me up, you could’ve just ignored it. I’m sorry, I- no, just forget it.”

Before he’s even finished speaking, Peter’s stumbled out of bed, shaking off the sheets twisted around his leg and staggering his way towards the bathroom. He almost throws the door closed behind him, the bang echoing in Beck’s ears.

“Well then.” Beck leans back against the headboard. “Edith, go ahead and close the feed. And uh, ask Herod to put a little light on. Nightlight display.”

“Command received.”

“Thanks, hun.” Beck pulls the glasses off and sets them back on the table. He runs a hand through his hair, his tiredness returning tenfold now that the sudden spike of adrenaline has passed.

Alright, so something’s gotta change. That’s abundantly clear to Beck now. For the past several days, the daily reports on Peter have mentioned increased agitation- restless sleep, pacing, fidgeting. But this was just extreme. And yes, sure, technically Beck shouldn’t care if Peter’s screaming himself awake at night because he’s a prisoner, and Beck could just order Herod to ignore it. And it’s not like Beck has shied away from hurting Peter before- both physically and emotionally.

But he also knows that there’s got to be a purpose behind it. Getting Peter to blame himself for the London attack? Useful. Making him feel responsible for his friends being in danger? Useful. But letting him live in this twitchy, tortured state? Not useful. Quite dangerous, actually, because an unbalanced Peter is an unpredictable Peter.

If Beck had to hazard a guess, it’s the confinement driving Peter to the edge. That makes sense. Any normal person would get twitchy after a week cooped up, but a superpowered teen who’s used to swinging from buildings… yeah. Beck’s gonna have to work something out.

But… tomorrow. That can wait until tomorrow. He’s tired.

~*~

[flowerynameslover]

Enigma Chapter 10

"…I can't help seeing that you are very lonely, and sometimes there is a hungry look in your eyes that goes to my heart." — Louisa May Alcott (Little Women)

-

Chizuru and Inoue exchanged a glance of shared frustration.

It really wasn't a surprise that Souji was refusing to rest like Hijikata ordered him to, or that Souji was being difficult at all. But they normally had better luck with him, managing to coax him with their concern for his well-being and the fact that Inoue was one of the few people Souji was humble around. Chizuru also liked to think that her keeping his secret played a part too. But today, they had no such luck. Souji was not hearing a word of their pleas and orders, and he knew full well that Kondou was unavailable to offer his own persuasion.

So the disguised girl and the older captain sat with their chins on their fists, trying to think of how to make Souji see reason. Occasionally their eyes met, ideas having sprung to their brains only to be dismissed with simultaneous headshakes as they realized that idea was bound to fail. Meanwhile, Souji was moving around the room like a mischevious child.

Chizuru sighed. Kondou was not available, Hijikata just barking more orders at Souji would be ineffective as usual, Yamazaki would have the same luck as Hijikata, Saito had been twice as busy lately so getting him to talk sense into Souji wasn't an option. And there was no point in even considering asking someone else for aid. It seemed Souji had won.

Right as Chizuru was about to give up, an idea clicked in her brain. She jumped a little in her seat, making Inoue and Souji shoot her curious looks though the latter shrugged it off and went back to ignoring them.

"You win this round, Okita-san," Chizuru said, standing. Inoue stood with a raised eyebrow. Chizuru winked at him, then returned her attention to Souji."Do whatever you prefer for now. Just know that I'll be informing a certain someone of today's events, which he specfically instructed me to do in such a situation."

Souji's eyebrows rose."Really, Chizuru-chan? Threatening to tell Hijikata-san on me?" He crossed his arms, unimpressed and amused."I can't believe I expected better from you."

Chizuru smiled sweetly."I wasn't referring to Hijikata-san." She felt a spark of sadistic glee."Do you remember the cat incident?" A pointless question. One would have to be suffering from terrible amnesia to forget a single detail of that day.

Souji's eyes narrowed. She could picture the gears turning in his skull, trying to figure out her plan. Inoue watched with equal curiosity.

Her smile widened."Well then, I'm sure you remember that Sanan-san pulled me aside and protected me so you couldn't involve me in your mess. He told me that if anyone ever tried to force me into one of their schemes again, I should tell them I was under strict orders from Hijikata-san." Souji narrowed his eyes further, knowing there was more to it than that. Chizuru crossed her arms, enjoying the incoming smugness."Sanan-san also said that if the mention of Hijikata-san was not enough to discourage the troublemaker, then I had his blessing to mention his name as well." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, pretending not to notice the way Souji whitened."If memory serves, Sanan-san personally handled your punishment for the cat incident and you walked with a limp for two days after some rather vigorous training." She adopted an innocent expression, waiting for Souji's decision and half-hoping she would get to make good on her threat.

Souji recovered swiftly, giving her a shaky smirk."Nice try, Chizuru-chan, but given the current circumstances-"

Inoue clapped his hands with enthusiasm and approval."Splendid idea, Yukimura-kun. I can easily deliver this message to Sanan-san and arrange for him and Souji to discuss this little problem."

Souji gawked at Inoue, whose smile was even sweeter than Chizuru's. Truly, Sanan would be proud of their attempts to mimic his mixture of pleasantness and unpleasantness.

Souji looked back and forth between them, mouth opening and closing. After swallowing nervously and pondering for a minute, he hurried to sit down and consume the meal they'd brought for him.

Chizuru and Inoue covered their mouths to hide their grins. Souji glared at them, impressed and annoyed at having to concede defeat.

After making sure Souji ate everything they brought and that he was actually resting, they left him alone.

Inoue patted her on the shoulder as they walked."Excellent job, Yukimura-kun. We should use that tactic more often."

"It won't get old?"

"Not even Souji is brave or foolish enough to take any chances with Sanan-san. No one knows that better than the man himself."

She giggled. That definitely sounded like Sanan. She could imagine him chuckling and smirking while his terrified subordinates shook and struggled to form excuses. Her amusement doubled at the knowledge that Souji easily counted among those unfortunate souls, although she couldn't deny that he often deserved it.

She bit her lip. She hadn't heard or seen anything related to Sanan since the note at her window last week. No one mentioned the Itou issue during the more private, secretive meetings; she was torn between relief and unease about that. It seemed everyone went out of their way to avoid the topic of Sanan and the Water of Life, and they certainly couldn't use the excuse of being careful with information around her anymore.

Chizuru looked around to ensure they were alone and there was no risk of being overheard. "Inoue-san?" She said hesitantly.

Inoue turned to her."Yes?"

She leaned in to whisper,"D-Do the others talk about Sanan-san much?"

Inoue frowned."You've noticed it too, then." Looking ahead of them, he sighed."It is no different when you are not present; they avoid that topic like a plague, only mentioning it when absolutely necessary."

She would be lying if she claimed to be shocked by that. It was just a confirmation of what she already strongly suspected.

"Like the recent Itou problem," she murmured. He nodded with a grimace.

"Have you heard anything?" She asked. Inoue was among those sent to handle the meals and supplies for the Fury Corp. and the only one that didn't express negative thoughts about it. Chizuru had done that a few times after they moved to the temple, but soon received other duties and barely saw the Furies. And with the two new recruits, Souma Kazue and Nomura Risaburo, becoming her page protégés, she did not expect that to change.

Inoue shook his head."I have not seen him in awhile, no. That task has fallen on others lately." He pressed his lips into a thin line."The last time I saw him was a few weeks ago, just before Itou started experiencing...nightmares. He seemed...the usual."

Chizuru opened her mouth, closed it, and lowered her head. As she'd expected, and as she'd worried. His next words made her head snap to the side to look at him so quickly that it was a wonder her neck didn't snap.

"It is possible I will be assigned to that task again soon." Inoue spoke smoothly, understanding in his eyes and the ghost of a smile teasing his lips. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. After looking away for a moment, she glanced back at him with gratitude clear on her face and nodded.

-

Sanan watched the fury like a hawk.

He decided to bring the fury that had shown hints of intelligence and rationality to a separate room, away from their more savage counterparts. He had been ready to give up on it, but it'd again reacted fiercely during one of his bloodlust attacks and grown quiet when the pain stopped, as if it sensed what was happening to Sanan despite being in a different room. He undid its chains and waited for something, only to be attacked again. But as he re-chained the creature, it lifted its gaze to meet his own and though he couldn't decipher any emotion in its eyes, the calmness in them was human.

Just a day after he gave Chizuru the note thanking her for her kindness and trust, he already had hope for his research. A possible breakthrough. He did not let himself be giddy, however, left he become more vexed if this turned out to be nothing. Still, it was a nice thought to have some hope, for however long it would last.

After the second incident, he arranged for the fury to have its own room, still chained but receiving more observational visits for studying than the others. He spent almost half the night watching it, taking note of every movement that stood out. The creature kept its head down, but shifted whenever he entered the room. The first night was mostly growls and struggles, albeit not as fierce as in the past. Sanan placed some medicine within its reach, but it did not react. The medicine was still there when he came back later. The second night was the exact same, as was the third night. The fourth night was when things started to change. He left the medicine, and when he came back, it was gone. The fury still would not look at him, but as he left, he could have sworn that he noticed from the corner of his eye the fury glaring at his back. The fifth night was when the fury finally met his gaze, but still waited until he left to take the medicine. The entire time it glared at him, gaze never wavering. The sixth night was when the fury did both, watching him like he watched it and taking the medicine in front of him. Sanan smiled and avidly recorded this in his notes.

Now here he was, having just awoken on the seventh night, eager to continue with this breakthrough. It seemed he would truly not be alone in maintaining his mind, after all.

Someone was supposed to come tonight to deliver fresh supplies for the Fury Corp. For once, Sanan was glad that most of his comrades disliked venturing to this section of headquarters, as it meant there would be no dillydallying with small talk that distracted or delayed his work. He was not about to waste precious time and energy that this potential lead required. Though it would be nice to have someone to share his enthusiasm with, if only to brag.

Alright, maybe it was too soon to brag, but this week was more productive than any other period of time had been for awhile.

That was why it was a pleasant surprise to see who had been assigned to bring the supplies this time.

"Inoue-san." Sanan's eyes widened briefly before he nodded at the older man and let him in, taking some of the supplies from his hands. Inoue hadn't been assigned this task since a few weeks ago, shortly before the Itou problem began forming.

"Sanan-san." Inoue smiled as he followed him to his room."You seem to be in a good mood."

"I am," he admitted softly. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder to check Inoue's expression. Inoue was always polite and friendly to everyone, and had never expressed a solid opinion on the Water of Life and Furies, so it was impossible for Sanan, despite his skill at reading people, to tell if this was a courtesy question or true curiosity.

"I might have reached a breakthrough in my research," Sanan confessed."Time will tell if it is truly signficant, but I am hopeful."

Inoue's smile grew."That's good to hear. I'm sure Isami-san and Toshi-san will be happy to know that as well."

Sanan shrugged. Almost everyone seemed content to ignore the Fury Corp.'s existence, and the few who tried to be more open-minded changed their minds and fled at the last minute, like Heisuke had done recently. Souji and Chizuru might be interested, if only for the sake of making sure he was well in the latter's case. Souji might be a mix of both concern for him and interest in the serum.

Sanan bit his lip."Is Yukimura-kun well?" He hadn't dared go out on any walks after the Itou problem was taken care of, hesitating to simply step outside for a minute of fresh air. He had no idea how Chizuru was doing since Yamazaki finished helping him and providing updates and had returned to his normal duties.

Inoue's smile was a knowing one."As well as can be expected." He said pleasantly."She has had more work to do recently, nothing that she can't handle, of course, and not that she is complaining. Souma Kazue and Nomura Risaburo have become pages for Isami-san, and Yukimura-kun is in charge of training them. She seems to enjoy it, and they are quite enthusiastic to learn as much as possible from their new Senpai. And since she has actually been allowed to act as Hijikata's page, she has plenty to teach."

"I am certain they will benefit greatly from learning the art of tea-making," Sanan said dryly.

Inoue chuckled."You joke, but that will indeed be a very valuable life lesson."

"Who said I was joking?" Sanan asked, half-humorously. He remembered his own beginnings as an instructor back at the dojo. A learning experience for both himself and his students. He was glad that Chizuru would get to experience that for herself. The boys were lucky to have someone so bright, kind, and optimistic guide them into properly serving the Shinsengumi.

Then something hit him. One of those names rang a bell."You said Souma Kazue has joined our ranks?" The same Souma Kazue that carried a painting of Serizawa in Fury form given to him by Ibuki? He did not expect to hear or see anything of him after the matter was resolved and he was let go.

Inoue nodded."Along with Nomura Risaburo, yes." Then he frowned."No one told you? Surely Toshi-san and Isami-san would have-"

"I do not get much news here," Sanan said icily, shrugging in partially feigned nonchalance. He'd already talked about this with Chizuru and wasn't in the mood to be reminded that his existence was a popularly ignored topic."The last update I received was a week ago, from Yamazaki about Itou-san's nightmares." He looked straight ahead as he walked, his good mood fading.

"I see." Inoue spoke quietly."That's very unfortunate." There was a hint of displeasure in his voice.

Sanan gave another shrug without looking back."Kondou-san and Hijikata-kun are busy men." He smiled sadly as he recalled Chizuru saying something similar while trying to comfort him after he admitted the same thing to her.

"Hmm." Inoue pressed his lips into a thin line."And they are especially busy at the most convenient times, it seems." The displeasure was far more noticeable now. Sanan opted to ignore it. Nothing would come of this, and his eagerness to return to studying the intelligent fury was all that kept his good mood from completely dropping. It was no insult to Inoue, of course, but simply how things were and perhaps how they should be.

Inoue finished helping him with the supplies in silence. Once that was done, he smiled kindly at Sanan and reached into his pocket."Before I go, there is one more thing I was asked to give you." He retrieved a folded piece of paper and handed it to Sanan, ignoring his confused expression.

"Good luck with your work, Sanan-san." Inoue patted his shoulder and turned to leave. Sanan watched him with a raised eyebrow. Once he heard the door open and close as Inoue left, he examined the note. Inoue claimed he was asked to deliver this to him, so he obviously hadn't written it and surely he would have just told Sanan if he wanted to let him know anything. Could it be an update from Yamazaki that he was too busy to do himself or just gave it to Inoue since he knew the older man was already coming here? Maybe a well-intended but ultimately meaningless apology note from Heisuke? Certainly possible.

Sighing, Sanan shook his head. He didn't need more reminders of what an unpleasant necessity he was viewed as by his comrades. So he decided to dispose of the note without reading it.

Until another possibility popped up in his brain. Could it be from Chizuru? A response to his own note to her from the previous week? Sanan hesitated for a second, then shook his head and unfolded the paper a little faster than necessary.

A slow but wide and genuine smile graced his face when he saw the familiar handwriting, and his heart swelled when he read the words.

I will always trust you.

"Let us hope you do not regret that, my dear," he whispered.

His left hand tingled at the memory of her touch. All the negative feelings left him, his eagerness to return to his research matching his hope for the new development. He placed the note in his journal, promising to write a new entry once he finished tonight's research.

His smile vanished as he walked to the room where the fury was kept, but his positive feelings remained strong as ever.

This time, the fury was already watching the door as if awaiting his arrival. It kept its calm gaze on him despite its slight physical struggles. Sanan placed the medicine in front of it again, hoping for a repeat of last night. Regardless, the fact that it seemingly had been expecting him by now was progress.

The fury kept staring at him. In the previous staring sessions, it had done so without blinking, but now it did blink. He wrote that down, trying not to rush in his excitement over the growing potential success of this lead. The fury directed its gaze to his notebook, following the movement of his hand and pen. Sanan stopped writing, and its gaze stayed glued to the pen. Sanan leaned down to make eye contact, and its eyes flickered to met his own for a second afore returning to his writing utensil. Sanan restarted writing and its eyes followed each motion, stopping when the pen stopped and glancing up at him briefly whenever he tried to make it look at him. The more he did this, the more he could have sworn that he detected an increasing glint of annoyance in its eyes. Sanan moved backward a bit, just in case its apparent annoyance eventually drove it to try to attack. The fury blinked, then narrowed its eyes, realizing he'd moved. It kept observing his hand and pen, though. Did it really understand what he was doing?

Sanan ceased writing and held up his pen, moving it around in the air. The fury's eyes did not follow the movement, yet they did narrow in understanding of what he was trying to do. The nonsense act was ignored by the creature, who cared only for the notebook. Sanan put down the pen and moved the notebook around the same way he'd done with the pen. The fury gave the same reaction to that action.

"You do understand then," Sanan murmured. The fury either didn't hear him speak or ignored the words. He placed both items down, receiving a brief glare. Sanan retrieved the items and began quickly writing, both from his eagerness to get all of this down and to see how good the fury was at following his movements. Its eyes didn't move quite fast enough, yet the creature was clearly trying.

A half-grunt, half-growl escaped its throat. Sanan's head snapped up to fully look at it, and his hand instinctively moved closer to his sword. He wasn't close enough for it to actually touch if it attacked, but one could never be too careful.

The fury made no move to attack, or any move at all for that matter. Nothing about its facial expression or body language indicated a threat, merely irritation.

Sanan took a gander at the medicine, hoping the fury would take it while he was watching just like it did last time. No such luck. It hardly mattered, though, with all the other things it had done. Accepting this was all he would be getting out of it tonight, (other than the medicine being gone when he returned, of course), he sighed and closed the book and stood to leave. Right as he was about to open the shoji, however...

"T-Took...l-long..."

He froze, almost dropping his supplies. He spun around on his heel, gaping at the fury. Had he imagined it, or had the fury actually spoken? Its lips were parted and it was swallowing profusely, which made sense given how hoarse and quiet the voice sounded. He wasn't imagining it.

Sanan took slow, careful steps toward the fury and knelt in front of it. He inclined his head, realizing what it'd been trying to say.

"What took me so long?" He asked slowly. The fury nodded curtly, actually nodded!

"You were waiting for me earlier," he whispered. Another curt nod from the fury!

"You can tell time then," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

The fury tried to speak again, but only a choked grunt came out, so it settled for a nod.

Sanan sat there in silence for several minutes, head swirling with so many thoughts that he almost didn't notice the fury reaching for the medicine. Their gazes met as the fury slowly and clumsily unwrapped the packet and stuck the medicine into its - no, his - mouth.

For the first time, Sanan no longer felt so alone among his fellow furies.

-

After completing their patrol for the day, Heisuke accompanied Chizuru in checking on Souji.

Partially, it was because he wanted to spend more time with Chizuru to make sure she was alright after the Itou problem. The other part was a feeling that she would need his help in getting Souji to cooperate.

So he was pleasantly surprised to see Souji fully cooperating. He was also amused by the smallest hints of nervousness on Souji's face and in his voice as he greeted Chizuru. For her part, Chizuru was wearing the ghost of a smile that reminded him of...Sanan. So much so that he wondered if they'd switched bodies.

Despite his uneasiness about Sanan's possible involvement, Heisuke grinned and raised his eyebrows at Souji."Who are you and what have you done with Souji?"

Chizuru giggled. She sat beside Souji and started pouring him tea and making sure everything was properly arranged on the tray.

Souji scoffed and crossed his arms. Chizuru giggled again, making him pout and point at her."Chizuru-chan is an evil genius." His eyes narrowed."Don't let that adorable face fool you!"

Chizuru looked away to hide her blushing cheeks, though her laughter didn't cease. She waited a moment to collect herself before giving Souji the tray with a stern countenance. Heisuke chuckled despite himself. If she really was the evil genius Souji claimed she was, then maybe seeing that adorable face would be more than worth the suffering...

Wait, what? Heisuke's eyes were now the size of saucers and his face turned crimson. Had he really just thought that? Clearly, the wrong brain had taken over for a moment.

"Heisuke-kun?" Chizuru touched his arm, frowning in concern."Are you alright?"

Heisuke blinked twice, then nodded rapidly."Ah, yeah, I'm fine, just got lost in thought for a second there." He grinned sheepishly.

Her frown didn't falter."You were red." She put her palm to his forehead and pressed her lips together into a thin line."Hmm, you don't have a fever. Don't strain yourself for the rest of the day, just in case, okay?" She smiled kindly, looking, well, adorable.

Heisuke dipped his head in a clumsy nod. Chizuru patted his arm and turned back to Souji. Her touch had almost made him blush harder than earlier.

The shoji suddenly slid open and Inoue poked his head in. He smiled in amusement and satisfaction when he saw Souji was complying. He gave Heisuke a nod, but was mostly focused on Chizuru.

"Yukimura-kun, can you help me with something?" Inoue asked. He appeared pleasant enough, but there was the slightest bit of ire in his eyes. Not directed at them, though. Heisuke wondered what and who made Inoue angry, then it hit him. Inoue was the one to deliver supplies to the Fury Corp. last night...

Chizuru and Souji seemed to be thinking the same thing, the latter grimacing while the former quickly stood up and hurried outside. Inoue stepped aside to let her pass and gave a polite wave to Hesiuke and Souji before closing the shoji.

"Well, they're dead," Souji said wryly."Kondou will be mostly alright, but Hijikata may have to take the Water of Life after Inoue is through with them."

Heisuke scowled."That's not funny!"

"What's not funny?" A new voice enquired. Hesiuke turned to see Harada, Shinpachi, and Saito standing in the doorway. Without waiting for an answer, the three entered the room. Saito took a seat next to Souji whilst Shinpachi and Harada sat on either side of Heisuke.

Shinpachi pointed his thumb over his shoulder."Does it have anything to do with how angry Gen-san looked?"

"Last night was his turn, correct?" Saito guessed. Heisuke and Souji nodded. Saito sighed."The Chief and Commander will be getting an earful."

"The rest of us won't be off the hook," Harada said, rubbing the back of his neck."Even if we don't get it as bad as those two."

Souji snorted as he put down his teacup."Speak for yourselves. I have an excuse." A genuine cough escaped him, and he smirked as he gestured to the air as if say,"See?"

"It has not stopped you from jumping and running all over the place while Commander Hijikata yells at you," Saito stated, pouring a fresh cup of tea for Souji and handing it to him."And based on your out of character good behavior, I assume that he has already found a way to frighten you for the time being." A statement, not a question.

Souji huffed."It was mostly Chizuru-chan." At everyone except for Heisuke's surprised and curious expressions, he said,"You remember the cat incident?" They all nodded."And how Sanan-san rescued her and protected her from being dragged back into helping us?"

Heisuke shuddered. He had sent Sanan and Chizuru desperate looks, beggng them not to abandon him. Chizuru hesitated a bit, but Sanan tightly gripped her shoulder as he ushered her out of the room, the door closing behind them mere seconds before Hijikata exploded. At the very least, he didn't have to endure an extra punishment at Sanan's hands like Souji. At the end of the day, Hijikata was stuck with a lost voice for a little while and Sanan and Chizuru showed up at the meeting room with the cat. Sanan explained that it came into his quarters a few minutes prior, yet Chizuru's refusal to look at anyone confirmed that they'd found the cat long ago. Afterwards, Sannan grabbed Souji by the ear and dragged him away. The cat refused to leave Chizuru's arms until the next morning when she and Sanan ensured it was properly fed and clean before giving it to the owner of their then-headquarters' child, who'd told Saito that he liked playing with it often. Souji suffered from a limp for two days due to the vigorous training Sanan subjected him to as punishment.

"Well," Souji continued,"Sanan-san gave her his blessing to mention his name if someone ever tried to cause trouble for her. Gen-san backed her up. I wasn't gonna take my chances. You'd have to be an idiot to risk his wrath."

Saito chuckled, earning a glare from Souji. Heisuke and Shinpachi burst out laughing. Harada snickered into his fist. Scowling, Souji gulped down his tea a bit too quickly and thus choked. Saito slapped him on the back, and he spat out the liquid, waving off Saito's worries.

Once he recovered, Souji pointed at Heisuke."What was that look on your face earlier about?

Heisuke paled. Of course Souji noticed that! Harada, Shinpachi, and Saito snapped their attention to him so quickly it was a wonder their necks didn't snap.

Heisuke bit his lip."W-What are you-" He knew before he spoke that his attempts at denial were doomed to fail.

Souji scoffed."You're a worse liar than Chizuru-chan." He smirked, eyebrows shooting up."Blood flow to the wrong brain for second back there?"

Heisuke almost fell onto his back in shock and humilation. Shinpachi loudly choked on his own breath; Saito coughed lightly; Harada stiffened and looked away. Souji shook with the force of his cackling.

Heisuke hugged his knees to his chest and hid his face. Eventually, someone cleared his throat.

"Alright, that's enough," Harada said sternly."Lay off him." He patted Heisuke comfortingly on the shoulder.

Souji rolled his eyes."Don't think nobody's noticed you acting the same way around her."

Harada bit his lip to stifle a response. Taking hold of Heisuke's arm, he forced him to stand up and beckoned Shinpachi."Let's go listen in on Gen-san lecturing them." He waved an arm to the door.

"Please let us know what you hear," Saito said, then midly glared at Souji."Souji, your food and tea will get cold if you keep laughing to distract yourself." When Souji ignored him in favor of continuing to laugh at Heisuke and Harada, he picked up a piece of food and shoved it into Souji's mouth, shutting him up.

"You deserved that one," Harada said dryly.

Heisuke almost ran from the room alongside his two best friends. Shinpachi walked ahead of them, just out of earshot.

"Just ignore him," Harada whispered, lightly tapping the back of his head. Heisuke gave a small grateful smile to his friend and nodded. They caught up with Shinpachi and the three of them walked along in silence.

-

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[angelynrostrand]

Chapter 13

Summary:  To the outside world, nothing should connect shy girl Angel Monroe and popular boy Xavier Hazelwood. But that isn't entirely true. They both hold secrets. Behind both of them lie 2 separate wolf packs. Xavier is well on his way to Alpha status and running the pack. Angel is not a wolf but instead the last healer in the world. When the realization comes forward that they are connected by destiny, will they decide to fulfill it? Is their connection predetermined by fate or will they choose their hearts? Lives and packs cross and mingle while romance and conflict brews. The story of 2 opposite souls on a collision path. Will destiny win out? Even the most innocent face, has the darkest secrets.

Word Count: 2,208

http://www.mrcantuspiritualhealer.com/index.html

Thank goodness my family got the memo that I do not want to be disturbed. I flip through the channels and see they are all about me. The school has been canceled for a week due to some damage that I secretly caused, but we were able to pay them back with replacements. Plus, I can have an easier recovery when I’m not worried about school. I grow tired of watching interviews with students and parents. The gun control debate has been reignited. The students don't know what they are talking about. They don't even know Rebecca and they don’t know me. They aren't mean, but they are acting like we have been friends for years. Sage has been working, but she keeps asking how I am feeling and checking up on me over text. I really do love her loyalty. The fake interviews are only getting me madder. They are calling me kind and a gentle girl but they are saying awful things about Rebecca. Yes, she has a reputation, but they don't know what happened in her life outside of high school. I can't stand the interviews. I shut the tv off and power hobble to the closet to get out of my pj's and into some fresh clothes. Anything to take my mind off of it.

 I need a change of scenery. I manage to crutch over to my cottage. With the grass and the uneven surface, I am surprised I don't fall. But I do collapse on the couch the moment I enter inside. That was a lot of work. I let my vinyl record play in the background and catch up with editing the freshmen's papers. I know the moment school is back and running they are going to be stressed with finals. That reminds me of Xavier. The times I would 'tutor' him in English. The thought of him playing with the ends of my hair with his pencil. And he did his best to distract me for doing my homework. Or when he would tease me when I overly express myself about a character in a book. But he does the same thing when he reads. The memories made me appreciate him for always being able to make me smile. He gave me true waves of laughter and smiles. I never had to fake it with him, unlike my family. Sometimes I would paint a smile so they would never have to worry about me. After finishing most of my work, I hop to the front porch and sit on my swing set. I close my eyes and enjoy the spring weather. Swinging back-and-forth I can feel the wind blowing through my hair. I can hear the trees dancing from the wind. It is refreshing to feel in control of the elements again. The sun shines bright but does not burn the living. I do miss the feeling of being connected to the elements.  

My eyes snapped open when I hear footsteps nearby. My cottage may be on our property, but it is still in the middle forest. I have a fear random people will find it, but it has never been a problem before. It is too hidden in the woods.

A wolf walks up to my cottage. It could be someone from my pack but that pitch-black fur and the electric blue eyes are too familiar. It's Xavier. He crawls on the porch and allows me to pet him and roam my fingers through his fur. I whisper, "I am so sorry." He backs up to transform into a human. His fur shortens and soon disappears. His bones crunch back together and I can hear the uncomfortable cracks of bones popping back in place. His skin boils and rolls into a human body. His blue eyes fade to his normally brown eyes. Soon enough he stands in front of me naked. In shock, I looked down immediately. I know is normal for wolves to transform back naked, but it is still a surprise.

 "Xavier!" I yell. He moves his hands to cover as much as he could. I toss him a blanket that was hanging on my swing set. "Here!" I stutter. He wraps it around his hips. I try to look away, to give him some privacy, but I'm magnetized. I notice his define abs and each time he breathes his muscles react. I have been staring for too long and he blushes from my reaction. I have to recollect my thoughts, he is my biggest distraction. "Xavier...umm....can you...you can go inside?" I wave to the cottage. "I'll find you some clothes." He rushes inside without arguing.

I secretly go inside my brother's room to find some basketball shorts and a plain shirt. Eric and Xavier are approximately the same size. He should fit in Eric's clothes. I am surprised I’m not caught, but I think he is in a meeting. It was a slow process to hop to my house and back. How I was able to balance on one leg with my hands full of clothes is beyond me. The grass was of no help. I knock on the door and wait for Xavier to answer.

"Hey, these are for you. I'll just wait for you out here." I said with my eyes still down.

"Thanks." He said and walked back inside. Within seconds, he sits down next to me on the swing set. It is odd to see him in my brother's clothes. We stay quiet for a while and enjoy the weather. I am not sure who should talk first, but he catches me off guard when he starts to chuckle.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I just remember something. Last time we were here we were sitting here talking. It was at your brother's ceremony." I smiled at the memory. "You told me you were different and I didn't believe you. I thought you meant about being human. I was such a fool."

I turn to him and argue against him. "No, you aren't. I am the fool. I am a terrible person and I convinced you to believe otherwise. I am so sorry for lying. I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me from what? Please tell me. I came here because I need to know what is going on."

I nod, "Okay. Let's go inside." He helps me to my feet and we walk inside.

His eyes wander around. I sit on my couch, but Xavier is still fascinated by the books and the herbs.

"Welcome to my secret hideout. So where do I start?"

"From the beginning. Were you born with it or trained? Is everyone in your pack... like you?" He finally sits down next to me.

"Can you hand me those books beside you." I direct him to turn around to find a small table with three books. "The old leather book is all about healers. This one is about being an Elementalist." I point the middle one. "The bottom one is my mother's journal." He stays still when I mention my mother.

"I was born with magical abilities like my mother. My brother is a wolf-like my father- and I got my mother's traits." I open the books to show him everything. "These used to be my mother's and her mother's and so on. They all have been passed to each generation. Now I have all of them."

"Why do you have all of them?" He asks as he flips through the first book.

"Because I am the last living healer."

He stops himself from reading and looks back at me with wide eyes. "What do you mean? How is that possible?"

"People like me aren't meant to be alive. That's why I wanted to protect you. Along with my mother and generations before me, they have all been hunted down and killed."

"So that attack was for you. They were looking for you." He has both anger and worry in his voice.

"Yes, that's why I wanted you to stay away. If you get involved, I can't promise you they won't hurt you or your pack. I care for you too much for you to get hurt because of me. I am a burden for my family and I don't want you to feel the same about me." I try to open up my feelings for him. He deserves to know.

"I would never." He stands his ground. "Who are they? The people… the people who want you dead." He stutters his words.

"I don't personally know. But in these books, it talks about a tribe of healers. My ancestors, they would heal and use magic for the village. Some people worshiped them and others saw it as witchcraft. The tribe was so strong they could bring back the dead. It scared the villagers and they wanted them dead. Throughout the years it became a secret society to hunt down any healers. They were successful. They killed everyone, including my mother."

"But not you. You are alive and beautiful." He places his hand on top of mine.

"For now. They do have their suspicions about me. They don't know for sure if I'm a healer. They must realize my brother is a wolf, but they are not sure about me."

"So that's why they attacked you guys?" I can tell he is connecting the dots. I nod to agree with him.

"Xavier I need to ask you something?" He nods to me. I continue on. "Have you told anyone about me?"

"No, I haven't told a soul. I ran off cause I need to think. I couldn't think with you around. You're my best distraction." He jokes.

"Then I need you to promise me something."

"Which is?"

"I am really sorry to put you in this position. That's why I never wanted you to find out."

"What is it, Angel?"

"I need you to promise me to never tell anyone from here on. Not your pack or your father. No one. Please, it is for your safety and for theirs. I know it is a lot to ask but please." I am practically begging.

"I won't. I promise but no more lies." He said and I agreed. "But I don't understand something. If your power is to heal, how come you haven't healed your leg." He pointed at my leg.

"Good question." I pulled the book with the title Elementalist. "In this book, it talks about an oath every healer makes when they... it’s like a coming of age ceremony. They have two choices. One: to be able to heal yourself and being able to live forever. Or two: heal others and use the elements to defend yourself. I chose the second option. I can help others and have the elements for my own protection."

" How old were you?"

"I was 13." I watch him scan each page in each book I hand him.

" It seems like a big decision to make at such a young age."

"Maybe but my mother made the same decisions and I read about it in her journals. And isn't it the same age wolves do their first transitions?"

"True, but your life is more interesting than mine."

"Xavier we are supernatural. Our lives are meant to be interesting." We both smile. "Can you ever forgive me?" I turn it back to a serious conversation.

“Yes, of course." He laughs. "I understand now...why you didn't tell me and I don't hold it against you. You were thinking of me and my pack. Thank you.”

"I am someone with a lot of baggage. And I do have to admit, I was scared." He gave a confused look. "I was scared because if you knew the real me then it might terrify you. You might run away and I don't know... it seems like people always suffer from my secrets. I don't want you to feel the same."

"I have some bad news then." He said and I am ready to accept his rejection. I knew after all my truth he can't stand me, my past or my lifestyle and that's ok." I’m sorry but you are stuck with me. I am not leaving and you can't get rid of me on account of being different." His words start to tear me apart. "I am staying with you because you deserve to be loved. I want to be that person who will stay with you. Nothing will make me run away not even those damn secret hunters." He wipes my tears away from my cheek. "I am not like other people. I am a wolf, soon to be Alpha and most importantly your soulmate. Do you understand? I am not leaving. Do you understand?"

I can only nod. The words can't come out.

"I need you to say it." He directs me as he lifts my chin so we are now eye level.

"I understand." I bravely say and brush his own tears away. I lightly comb his hair out of his eye. I lean up to kiss him once again for security. He gladly accepts me, like he always does. Thank you for being a good man.

[chungledown-bimothy]

Trust Me: Chapter 7

Hey look! A timely update! Consider it a preemptive apology to everyone who loves Logan. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 6 AO3 Chapter 8

Warnings: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF TORTURE and JD is a high schooler. It’s relatively short, and marked by ******* before and after. But it’s for sure there. Oh, and some swearing.

Author’s Note: The German translates to “I speak German too, and I know you killed them.”

Word Count: 2190

Tag List: @ccecode​ @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn​ @ren-allen​ @ilovemygaydad​ @bloodropsblog​ @funsizedgremlin​ @raygelkitty​ @roxiefox23​ @thomasthesandersengine​ @spookyingarbageisland​ @band-be-boss-blog​

15 minutes passed before Logan broke the silence. "I understand that two members of the football team committed suicide two weeks ago. I know that you are new to the school, but it must be difficult nonetheless."

"Not really. I bounce around so much, I don't bother learning names or faces, let alone care about anyone. Besides, I heard they did it because they were gay and too homophobic to deal with it. No major loss there, in my opinion."

"That is… an interesting perspective, JD. I am almost afraid to ask about your thoughts on Heather Chandler's death."

"Sometimes even the shiniest of ivory towers are prisons, I suppose. One has to wonder, though, how much the bullying rate has dropped since she kicked the bucket. I mean, sure, one of the other Heathers is trying to take her place, but even she knows that she'll never measure up." He looked out the window and then back to Logan. "Hang on, I never told you where I live."

"I know where I'm going. What do you know about how Heather, Kurt, and Ram died?"

"If you say so," JD began, hesitantly. "Only what everyone knows. Heather drank drain cleaner, and Kurt and Ram shot each other. I heard someone saying that they used some special kind of bullets called ich lüge."

"Ich spreche auch Deutsch und ich weiß dass Sie sie umgebracht haben."

"H- how could you possibly know that? No one knows that. I was careful. I was perfect."

"Obviously, you were not. If you were truly careful, you would not have said anything about the bullets. You wanted to applaud yourself for being so much smarter than everyone else. You also would not have chosen such an emotionally-driven accomplice. I understand the appeal. We have a lot in common, JD. We both understand that emotion and personal attachments are nothing more than hindrances. But there is that one person who changes all of that. Who makes you want to know how to feel things. But ultimately, they will always choose their emotions over us. I was not completely certain that you killed them until you bragged about the bullets. Killing people who had been cruel towards your person, Miss Sawyer, aroused my suspicions. Rule number one of getting away with murder: only kill people to whom you are not linked."

"It's you, isn't it? The killer everyone's talking about. The Park Puzzler."

"That is the first honest and correct thing you have said all evening." Logan paused, considering JD's words. "Is that really what they are calling us? Disappointing, but not surprising. The best and brightest certainly do not go into journalism."

"You aren't gonna kill me. You said yourself, the first rule of getting away with it is killing strangers." Logan was filled with a savage glee, seeing the terror in his student's eyes, his desperate attempt to save himself.

"In most circumstances, yes, killing you would be a mistake. However, your father is known for leaving town and taking you with him unexpectedly. You have attended 10 high schools, I believe, and it is your senior year? Everyone knows that the killer is punishing people for their unpunished crimes, and how would a simple teacher know what you did? Especially one who does not interact with other teachers, let alone students. No one was around when you got in my car. No one has ever seen us interact outside of the rare occasions you showed up to my class." He sighed when he saw JD reach for the door handle. "Don't be stupid- there is no point in trying to escape. I engaged the child-lock this morning. You cannot open the door from the inside, and breaking through the window is difficult with only a fist for exceptionally strong individuals. Looking at you, I estimate that you have slightly below average upper body strength for an 18-year-old male."

"Well that's awfully rude, teach. So, I'm gonna die. Why? Why not just turn me over to the cops?"

"You are a young, white man who, when you want to, can be quite charismatic. The American justice system is skewed to protect people like you. Even that is predicated on the assumption that a prosecutor would take the case, which is unlikely, given how well you were able to convince everyone that they were suicides. Your kills were cold-blooded with very little motive outside of bloodlust, and you left very little to no evidence. Truthfully, I am rather impressed."

"And we're back to my question. Why do I have to die for doing such good work? You're a killer too. Why should I die, when you're no better than I am? If the papers are accurate, killing me will even up our body counts, so you aren't even better than me on that front."

"The quality of your work was admirable, but it was still wrong. You took three innocent lives, simply because you wanted to. I only kill those whose crimes go unpunished by the corrupt justice system. We are both killers, but my crusade is a righteous one."

"I still don't buy it. I trade in half-truths, straight-up lies, and manipulation, teach, and there's more to it than you're saying. You're gonna kill me anyway, and clearly we aren't to wherever it is you're taking me to do the job. Why not pass the time with a good old-fashioned villain monologue?"

"All will be revealed in due time. I have been reliably informed that people tend to dislike 'spoilers'."

"You're absolutely nuts. You know that, right? You're even more delusional than I am. And that's my self-harm of choice is fucking Slurpees."

"I find it interesting that you truly believe that your obsession with what is colloquially known as 'brain freeze' is less sane than your manipulation of Veronica Sawyer and the cold-blooded murders of your peers."

"Peers? That's bullshit. They were, at best, vapid instruments of the system."

"And for that, they deserved death?"

JD shrugged. "I would do anything to protect Veronica from assholes like that."

"As I would do anything to protect my sibling from a world that turns a blind eye to the crimes of assholes like you. We are at an ideological impasse. That impasse, however, is rendered irrelevant by my superior intellect. Ah, here we are." Before JD could respond, Logan reached across the car and emptied a syringe into his arm.

-

The first thing JD noticed when he came to was the rope around his wrists tying him to a chair. Struggling revealed that his ankles were bound as well, and the chair was bolted to the ground. He was surprised to find that he wasn't gagged. Looking around, he reasoned he could only be in a warehouse, and it was empty except for him and a video camera. He continued to struggle against his restraints, barely noticing when the rope burn broke his skin. He was also hungry, and his mouth felt like sandpaper.

"How long was I out?" JD croaked, unsure if anyone was there.

"Approximately eighteen hours. It is 2pm on Saturday." JD jumped, not expecting Logan's voice to be so close behind him. "You are in luck. Normally, Patton would take a turn with you before I do anything, but they are… otherwise occupied. You should thank me- you will be useless to them once I have started with you, let alone finished. I am saving you potentially weeks of agony. The last one took a week and a half to learn his lesson. Only then could I begin my experiments."

"Experiments? What the fuck are you going to do to me?"

"As many things as you can endure."

"Why? Why not just kill me and get it over with? Satisfy your 'righteous crusade' without wasting time."

"And waste the opportunity to study how much the human body can endure? I think not. In all honesty, I care about the cause far less than Patton does. As I said, you will be spared their particular brand of torture, both physical and mental. I can only imagine what they'd do to you, given the fact that you murdered children, despite being a child yourself."

"We were all 18. Technically not children. Why, may I ask, won't I have the pleasure of making their acquaintance? They sound absolutely delightful."

"I am not surprised that your listening skills are subpar. They have other business to attend to."

"They're with someone, aren't they? That's why you've got such a big bug up your ass about emotional attachments and me and Veronica. It's rebellious child 101, teach. Lash out to get their attention. You aren't the center of their universe any more, and it's eating you alive." Logan flinched, and JD smirked; he'd hit his mark.

"Those who speak of what they know find too late that prudent silence is wise. This is doubly true for children who know nothing." He raised a hand, cutting JD off. "No more talking. Feel free to scream, however. Your responses will be recorded on that camera," he pointed, "and further analyzed later. I tend to get… distracted in the moment."

Logan briefly returned to the shadows of the warehouse before returning with a tank that seemed to be smoking. "This, JD, is liquid nitrogen. You mentioned your fondness for cold-induced pain. Let us see how you feel about it in the extreme. And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest."

****************************

He put on thick gloves and an apron before opening the lid and pulling out a ladle full of liquid nitrogen. Very carefully, he stepped forward and slowly emptied the ladle onto JD's arm.

The first drops hit JD's skin with a sizzle, causing JD to flinch. That flinch quickly turned into convulsions and a scream he didn't know he was capable of making when the stream grew thicker. It burned. Every second was more painful than the last. He was on the edge of unconsciousness when the agony stopped getting worse- Logan had stopped pouring. JD didn't know how long he sat there, face contorted with pain, before he was able to open his eyes and look at his arm. He immediately wished he hadn't. From wrist to elbow, his arm was mostly violently red and blistered. What truly horrified him, however, were the areas that weren't red at all, but were an unnatural grayish-yellow.

***************************

"That is third degree frostbite. Those uniquely discolored areas should turn black over the course of our time together." JD tried to scream, to swear, to cry, but he couldn't. He was hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea when he tried to open his mouth. "Ah yes, that would be the shock setting in. Breathe with me, JD. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight." Logan led him through the breathing exercise until he returned to a slightly more normal temperature. "Well done. Keep focusing on your breathing; I will be right back with some first aid."

"Wh- why bother?" JD asked when Logan returned without his gloves and apron, carrying a first aid kit. "Why not let me die from this?"

Logan gently began heating the frostbite with a warm, wet towel before responding. "There are more experiments to run. Even if this was the only one I had planned for you, seeing how it heals is a crucial part of the process. My goal isn't killing you. My goal is observing how the human body reacts to and recovers from various extreme stimuli. Letting you die would be extremely counterproductive. For now, at least." Logan began wrapping JD's arm with bandages. "There we go. That should be adequate to keep you alive and will hopefully prevent gangrene. The point is to study frostbite, not gangrene."

"Why thank you." JD smirked the best he could, but even he knew that it was, at best, a pitiful attempt.

"You certainly are strong, JD. Most people would not dare being sarcastic in the face of their torturer. Drink this." Logan demanded, holding a water bottle to his lips. "Good. I suggest you get comfortable. I will be back tomorrow to change your bandages and check on you. Can't have you dying before I allow it."

-

Sunday

"Oh Logan, he's absolutely wonderful. He's so smart, kind, and handsome. He didn't even blink when he learned my pronouns! And he said the most beautiful things about Monet and Impressionism. Aahh, I wish I could stay and tell you all about it and him, but I have to spend some time at the coffee shop- between our work and Virgil, I haven't spent nearly enough time there!" Patton got to the door before turning around. "Oh, and I'd love to know what you were up to yesterday- I called, but you didn't answer or call me back. That's why I had to come check on you before going to work. I'll be back around eight tonight, okay? See you then!" Patton was out the door before Logan could respond. Eleven hours. Plenty of time to tend to JD and come up with a convincing lie.

[ghostmartyr]

Historia Isn’t Pregnant and Ymir’s the Father: The Manifesto

I don’t like coming up with solid theories for ongoing series. There’s endless potential for embarrassing myself, being proven wrong, forgetting something already exists that proves me wrong, and on and on it goes.

So while I’ve been saying for a year that Ymir’s stated fate feels off, and therefore incomplete, I’ve not dared to come up with an explanation for what the missing piece could be besides mild conversation starters like her pulling an Athena on Galliard. Besides not wanting to tie myself down to one theory, I honestly wasn’t sure how I thought a misdirection with Ymir played into the larger story, and it needs to.

Even though I am only here for Ymir and Historia, the main plot is not all about them all the time. If there is more to Ymir’s story, it has to be related to more than one plot thread to be worth the trouble.

With the most recent chapter, the in-universe conspiracy theory is that to spare Zeke from being eaten alive the second he steps foot on Paradis, Yelena suggests Historia getting pregnant.

Historia has stated her willingness to inherit the Beast Titan. Yelena is in the room when she does so. She has her own reaction panel to the claim.

The suggested idea, then, is that Yelena approaches the queen in secret, warning her of a scheme her military is in support of, and provides a way out that Historia has given no indication of wanting.

Yelena and her squad are jailed for showing nothing but support for Paradis. Unless she knows for sure that Historia is going to cooperate, that is one reckless way to try to keep Zeke breathing for a bit longer.

Unless she knows for sure that Historia is going to cooperate.

To begin with, there is no indication that the pregnancy is the result of the happy affair Nile is claiming. In every panel Historia has related to it, she shows the same dead eyes that she has in the depth of her depression in the wake of Ymir’s departure. That encourages the idea that there is some other scheme behind it.

There are multiple problems with that.

The most subjective are character reasons.

Historia, more than any other character, knows the pain of being an unwanted child. She also knows what it’s like to watch her mother die. If this is a part of a plan, she has willingly coerced a man into sex to form an undesired child who will watch her die in thirteen years, likely at their own hand to keep the Titan in the royal bloodline.

Historia has defined her monarchy by protecting children like her. Ruining the life of her own child before it’s even begun, all for the sake of nine extra months, is atrocious and inefficient.

Objective problems include that getting pregnant is not as easy as fiction makes it sound. Many people who try to get pregnant fail. Counting on a pregnancy to keep Zeke out of harm’s way is a gamble.

Following that, if the timing is off, and she is still with child at the time Zeke expires, they will have to either find the new Beast Titan before she can inherit it, or offer up someone else to take it and be eaten. Either way commits to killing yet another innocent person in the name of buying nine months of time.

Another aspect of pregnancy is how often people die in childbirth. Historia is the only person alive besides Zeke who can make the Coordinate work. If she dies, when Zeke’s time is up, there is no one left to make use of the Founding Titan’s ability.

Even in a world where Historia is put through the breeding farm tactic, the wise thing to do would be to wait until after she has eaten a Titan; regenerative properties would be the only thing in this world that could guarantee surviving childbirth.

It is a bizarrely dangerous strategy to encourage.

However, the illusion of pregnancy would check off the same boxes. Historia would be just as unavailable to turn into a titan and eat Zeke, only without the risk of her dying and ruining any chance her people have to defend themselves for years to come.

Except Historia’s participation in that illusion would require her sharing the perspective that keeping Zeke alive for as long as possible is in her best interests.

No such reason currently is in place.

In theory, the absence of logic to all of the actions involved in the pregnancy scheme means that there’s something we’re not yet aware of pulling the strings.

Pulling strings is Zeke’s specialty.

When Zeke battles with the Survey Corps in Shiganshina, he is already aware that the Reiss family is the royal line. He refers to King Reiss, not King Fritz. By that point in time, he has met up with Reiner and Bertolt, and Ymir has been escorted off the stage.

So within the same time frame that Zeke comes into contact with Ymir, he has the necessary information to know that Historia, by virtue of being a Reiss (information that Reiner would be inclined to share, given the relevance of “Krista’s” ties to his mission), has royal blood. He would also know, within five seconds of discussing the motives that have landed everyone where they are, that Ymir is critically important to the only other person in the world who has royal blood.

Even if it somehow didn’t come up, Ymir writes Historia a letter she explicitly refers to as a love letter, and no one without Historia’s hangups is going to misinterpret that. As the man in charge, Zeke likely would have read the letter to check for codes before allowing Reiner to proceed with it. It is unlikely he comes out of his brief interaction with Ymir without knowing how much this girl means to her.

Zeke has an established record of picking people off the battlefield for personal use. That is the basis for the Anti-Marley Volunteers.

With Ymir, things are a little more difficult. Reiner and Bertolt are both intending to sacrifice her. Sacrificing her means that there should be a new Jaw Titan very soon after they turn her over. Zeke could present Ymir as a bargaining chip, but that would mean that she would be Marley’s to use. In order to use her for his own gains, no one on Marley’s side can know she’s still alive.

Even then, the matter of transferring the Jaw Titan is a major complication.

Enter Zeke having motivation besides gaining a hostage.

His expiration date isn’t quite as close four years back, but every indication we’ve seen in present day is that he’s lining up his ducks very carefully. He has established goals, and he has been willing to bloody his hands for them since he was a small child. With so much at stake, it’s very inconvenient to have a body that’s due to give out.

Zeke has ties to Marley’s Titan research section. One of his key abilities is tied to the distribution of spinal fluid.

“But when I say eat him, that’s not exactly it... You just need to bite through his spine... and ingest his spinal fluid.” --Rod Reiss, 65

Transferring of Titan powers is done by nomming. That is the simplest way to go about it; the person due to inherit the power has to first transform into a human-hungry monster (one no one outside Paradis has ever dreamed to combat as a simple human), and consuming the previous holder includes consuming their spinal fluid. Also, there’s no risking that the transfer of power doesn’t happen, the way keeping the former holder alive might.

For efficiency’s sake, there isn’t much reason to experiment with the ritual. On Marley’s side, regularly killing off their Warriors means that no Eldian who has been exposed to power and the front lines will stick around to form their own ideas.

Similarly, having multiple people alive on the island aware of its history would not suit the First King’s intent. If someone could survive the transfer of the Founding Titan, they would have the memories of the experience, but without the First King’s will corrupting them.

An endless series of unquestioning sacrifices makes the most sense for everyone.

But if there were a way out, it would be in the interest of someone like Zeke to find it. He’s intending to change the world. He’s going to betray Marley and restore Eldians to some status above dirt. He has his allies, but all of his scheming has involved him as the primary operator. This plan has always been under his control.

Having an expiration date interferes with that.

It’s an in-universe long shot, but Ymir presents a unique opportunity. She matters to the only other human being on the planet who poses a strategic threat to him.

Historia having royal blood means that she is the only suitable replacement for Zeke. Historia’s existence means that Paradis does not need Zeke alive to use the Coordinate. If he was the last person left who could make the Founding Titan’s power run, Paradis would have no choice but to work with him.

He isn’t, though. Historia exists. As long as Historia is alive and physically able, Zeke’s remaining time could drop to zero at any moment. Historia is one of the greatest assets Eldians have in this conflict, and Zeke’s greatest threat.

If he can’t control Historia, he’s a dead man.

Zeke has been working towards Eldia’s restoration since he was seven. He plans ahead.

Ymir gives him leverage.

If she’s still alive.

Which opens the door to an experiment Zeke must have wondered about anyway: Is it possible to survive giving up your Titan?

That’s vital information, and Zeke has the means to find out. If it isn’t, he loses a trump card luck delivered to him in the first place, and Marley regains the Jaw Titan (as long as he’s playing sleeper, Marley having the military power to not keel over is in his interests).

If it’s possible, he has something to hold over the only person who keeps him from his indispensable status. If it’s possible, he will be able to live to continue fighting for Eldia. If it’s possible, he knows one more secret no other side has.

There is no harm in trying. Either throwing vials of spinal fluid into a rampaging wild titan’s mouth works, or it doesn’t, and the rampaging titan noms the whole human anyway. All it takes is having the right people available and in the room during the process. A new Jaw Titan is coming out no matter what, and that’s all Marley cares about.

No one remembers the person they eat to come out of being a mindless titan. Eren only has memories of the event through his father’s eyes, and that’s with the enhanced Founding Titan’s abilities, as well as a blood connection.

If one Shifter goes in, and a different one comes out, there’s no reason to think that the first survived. For hundreds of years, they’ve simply died. It’s unlikely multiple people are in the room for the event; Paradis is the only place in the world that considers individual people going toe to toe with titans. Putting in guards or witnesses just offers up valuable Marleyan lives if something goes wrong, and trusting Eldians with it would be silly. It isn’t like with the Reisses, who have a familial obligation to bear witness to their relative’s passing.

The question remaining then, is if it’s actually possible.

The War Hammer Titan dies gruesomely, and technically, Galliard is the one who deals the final blow. However, Eren is the one to get the lion’s share of her fluids, so he inherits her power.

It’s unlikely that none of her spinal fluid ends up in Galliard’s mouth, but Eren has more of it inside of him than any other living body. He gets the power.

Titan abilities run on plot magic. Specifically, Titan powers use spinal fluid as a conduit to take a ride along Eldian Paths and find their new owner. If a Shifter dies naturally, the Titan will still find a way to live on.

It’s been suggested that individual Titans have some degree of autonomy. King Fritz makes a deal with the Founding Titan. The Attack Titan has its own reputed nature. They might not be as sentient as the person bearing their power, but they exist.

Theoretically, that creates room for a survival instinct.

If a human loses the majority of their spinal fluid to another human, it stands to reason that they won’t be long for this world. If the Titan power waited for the moment of death to signal finding a new bearer, there would be nothing to stop it from going down the usual Paths instead of always, every single time, going to the person who killed the previous holder.

The spinal fluid aspect is essential to a linear inheritance.

Death is what randomizes the process.

In standard practices in the present day, the spinal fluid transference is accompanied by death as a consequence.

The theory is that death is a side effect, not a feature.

The theory this post proposes is that it’s a theory Zeke would be curious about, and Ymir provides him with a willing test subject.

Ymir’s compliance with her death has always stood out as a strange character decision. Besides the fact that her sacrifice buys Bertolt only another two months, and Reiner a lifetime of trauma, it gives Marley a weapon. Marley throws rocks at her and casts her into a living nightmare.

“You’re going to kill yourself, the ultimate act of submission. Is that how much you want to please the people who treated you like a nuisance?!” --Ymir, 40

The reveal of Eren’s power makes Ymir believe that Paradis has a future. She doesn’t necessarily need to remove Historia from the island as quickly as possible. That power is what changes her mind about the state of the world.

In the most recent Titan battle, the one who poses the greatest risk to Eren losing that power is Galliard, using the Jaw Titan. Ymir’s choices draw a direct line to putting the one defense the girl she loves has at risk. The one thing every character who comments on Ymir knows she doesn’t want to do.

Ymir goes back to save Reiner and Bertolt because she has compassion for them. That’s not reason enough to put everything else she cares for in jeopardy, along with giving people she hates something they want. She gives Reiner and Bertolt a bargaining chip to prove they’re good Warriors, but after that, she doesn’t try to escape? The person who is most strongly defined in a chapter where she shouts about another character trying to kill herself just walks straight into an early grave?

Zeke using Ymir as a hostage means several things.

First, she lives. She doesn’t even need to come up with her own escape attempt, the people watching her will do it for her.

Second, she lives. She’s useless dead. Keeping her alive turns into a priority.

Third, she lives. She would, quite appropriately, be freed from Ymir’s Curse. Instead of only a few more years, she gets as many as her body can take.

Fourth, Historia lives. There’s no reason to bargain with someone you want dead. Zeke doesn’t need to be eaten early, but all his plans still involve someone with royal blood being alive. He’s a powerful player invested in Historia’s life.

The only downside is that she’ll be used to manipulate the girl she loves.

That isn’t much of a price to pay.

The final piece to this is that the first part of the outside world we are introduced to is a photograph. An old one, that even people of Eldian blood were permitted. Pictures exist outside of Paradis.

Word of mouth isn’t worth a lot. Trying to bend someone to your will with something you can’t prove is very difficult. Especially when your bargaining chip is someone that was last spotted saying she was about to die.

Photographic evidence is exactly what it sounds like, and the means to provide it are there.

To sum up:

Ymir’s death is dodgy af

Zeke is dodgy af

Historia has zero reason to go along with either version of the pregnancy scheme the narrative has provided

It’s a series about freedom. Why not end it on breaking free from a curse?

This could also be used to establish a different kind of tension than is already present in the grand scheme. Currently, we know that every Shifter is going to die. The manga might not cover that death, but very soon, every single person who has born a Titan power will die, and the person to kill them will die thirteen years later. That is the cycle.

If any of this holds water, it’s possible for every Shifter to live.

That changes the stakes. They don’t have a time limit. If they fall in battle, the time they lose isn’t a few years, it’s a few decades.

It means Eldians have the power to break free from the cycle of violence that has defined their lives.

Most importantly, it means Historia and Ymir can get married.

Thank you for your time.

[gwiiyeoweo]

Reggie freaks out. Noctis brings out the ‘mother’ in Tidemother.

Pairing: Noctis & Leviathan, Noctis & Regis Rating: G

Accordo was nothing like Lucis.

The Crown City of Insomnia had her bright lights and towering buildings, monumental things that pierced the skies and scraped the inner Wall, Regis’ magic barely able to cover the entirety of their city. During the day, the sun gleamed harshly across her pillars of steel and glass, heated the concrete and asphalt until they threatened to blister. At night, the loud thrum of life never faltered, and the marching steps of commuters and businessmen only walked to a different tune. The lights switched on, the obnoxious neons and LEDs lighting billboards or storefronts and shady nightclubs, and the streets were filled with white headlights and the purr of engines. She was a carefully constructed system, all sharp edges and manufactured borders, and boasted the culmination of technology and ancient magics.

Altissia, however, was a stark but lovely contrast. While Insomnia was surrounded by steel and earth, Altissia bathed herself in sparkling waters and soft stone and perfumed air. There was history in every marred brick, a living piece of art whose splendor shone in her architecture and people. Life bustled here, but not in the same way as Insomnia whose citizens were much like drones in a hive; they were like schools of fish, some lazily flitting about or scurrying this way and that in vibrant spurts of energy.

Regis loved his kingdom and his city, and he was a king proud of all that he's protected and helped nurture. But he couldn't deny the breathtaking sights and the savory scents of Altissia. It had been years since he last set foot in this nation, when he had been but a young man set out on a diplomatic mission to build relations between Lucis and Accordo. Now, with the threat of Niflheim pulled back into its den — for however long that would be — he held high hopes he could finish what he had once failed to do.

Regis, accompanied by Cor and Clarus and a handful of council members, walked down the ornate brickwork as they followed Lady Claustra's advisor through the city. With one hand raised and held tightly, he occasionally looked away from the beautiful artwork and sculptures that filled the plazas and stole a few glances at Noctis, who had decided he'd rather walk atop the narrow stone fencework that kept its tourists from falling into the waters. No one had the heart to remind the prince of his manners, not when this was his first time overseas ever since Tenebrae; and children, even royalty, deserved to behave as children. So Regis kept his grip firm but gentle, helping keep his boy steady as he nimbly put one foot in front of the other on what could have been a balance beam.

Noctis listened with rapt attention to the cries of gulls and the crash of waves all intermingled with the bustling noise of tourists and street music; and when his eyes gleamed with such innocent excitement, even hardened councilman Ferriam caved and bought a pretty little berry tart from a street vendor for the young prince. Noctis devoured it in record time.

Beyond their retinue, where several people stood and watched in shared whispers and pointing fingers, there were those who recognized their faces, the Lucian black suits, and the Draconian emblems emblazoned into their regalia. Some only watched in quiet awe or hushed murmurs, others were more bold — paparazzi, most definitely — and clicked on their cameras with wild abandon, the telltale sound of clicks and shutters going a mile a minute. Regis noticed the look shared between Clarus and Cor, the silent language of their subtle gestures and hidden expressions. No doubt news of their arrival would reach Niflheim and ultimately stir up some trouble.

Accordo had been a target for years, barely able to keep neutral and fend off Niflheim’s political advancements, especially with the power play and snapshots of military strength Aldercapt and his men liked to remind the world of. But hopefully, with the very odd but very appreciated winterstorm that battered and froze over the nation, Lucis could take advantage of the weather phenomenon and make alliances where she could, and hopefully, end the tensions that threatened them all.

Regis knew he should think of the repercussions of the paparazzi — though his council had already planned for the worst and worked out contingency plans — but Noctis’ wide smile and glimmering eyes were a potent distraction. And infectious. He could feel a warm smile creeping up on his own face. Maybe, he blithely hoped, the reporters and journalists would get a decent candid shot, so he could clip it out of the newsprint and save it in his scrapbook.

It's the third day of their diplomatic visit when Regis about tore his hair out, one second away from breaking all protocol and proper decorum.

Everything had been smooth sailing. Claustra had kept her sharp wits and no-nonsense tone as expected, but she had been very open to his proposed terms and possible alliance. Their talks had only hit minor roadblocks, conditions that could easily be tailored to suit both nations’ needs, marked with little to few resistances on either sides. Clarus and Cor had actually learned to relax a little, as they were somehow delegated to be Noctis’ fishing partners when the boy dragged both of them by the hands to a pier. Last month, Noctis had figured out how to stuff more things into his Armiger, namely a rod and tackle box when he had become so engrossed in the hobby. (Regis had wiped a proud tear from his eye, and wondered what shenanigans his son would inevitably come up with.)

His darling boy had even eaten vegetables. Altissia's culinary greatness had managed to get Noctis to eat peas and broccoli, and Regis was still debating whether or not to abuse his authority as king to swipe whoever the chef had been and slap a visa on them. He could bring them back to Insomnia as Noctis’ personal chef, and Claustra wouldn't be too upset if he did, or so he hoped.

But that idea was tossed to the side, and a prince's personal chef would be pointless with no prince to cook for. Since Noctis was missing.

A handful of Crownsguard and battle-sharpened warriors and still the Prince somehow slipped out of sight. Were he not a patient and understanding king, Regis would be counting how many heads he needed to roll.

It had been Cor who rushed to his side and delivered the news first, right when the meeting called for a recess. Noctis had been strolling about the piers with a few guards — or so it was supposed to be — and when his keepers had turned their eyes for a split moment, poof. No royal heir to be seen, yet no sign of a struggle or silent kidnapping.

It took every remembrance of childhood lessons on grace and poise to keep Regis from gunning down the hallway, but his power walk and stark expression kept everyone out of his way. He only paused when Clarus placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, pinning him to his spot, and Regis reeled his head around to glare him down with a tempest and an inferno in his eyes.

“Clarus, I expect a good reason for you to —”

“Altar. Someone reported a child with Noctis’ description at the altar.” Clarus pressed two fingers to the small receiver in his ear, his lips set in a tight grim line.

‘Bahamut help me,’ Regis silently cursed but wasting no time. The Altar of the Tidemother was not only a sacred place of history, its original monuments and the altar itself dating back centuries, but a place of terrifying power. Leviathan was known to take on many forms, from a lithe woman with a sea creature's tail to a towering monstrosity that matched Titan's might. And while her visage changed throughout the history books, her temper did not. Despite Accordo's worship and homage to her, the Astral was known for her ferocity and rage, the tsunamis and ocean storms and gaping maw that could swallow entire islands. She didn't share Shiva's fondness for humans and only tolerated them, at least until her promised time of the Feeding.

And since she had no trouble eating whole cities, she would have no reservations with snapping her cruel teeth around a small boy — royalty or not.

But Regis? He had no qualms with throwing down with the god, even if it meant throwing a lasso around her scaly neck and riding her like a seahorse jockey.

When he heard Noctis’ scream, Regis nearly catapulted himself into the waters.

There, within the tidepool was the Hydraean herself, an immense serpentine creature that made midgardsormrs look like groveling worms. Every twitch of her muscle sent waves across the waters, threatening to drown the surrounding paths and stonework, to sweep Regis and his guards off their feet and pull them into her tides. Thick, swirling tendrils of sea rose into the air, some spiraling into each other in a criss-cross puzzle of ringlets, others taking a transparent form and mimicking the great god herself. Physics bent to her will, gravity failing to keep what should not be dancing across the sea salt air. What should not be his son trapped in a vortex of rushing waters.

Regis’ heart leaped to his throat, and he heard Clarus and Cor curse beside him. Taking no chances and letting no precious time waste, he sweeped his arm to the side to summon forth his sword — because yes, he was going to flay Leviathan like a fish fillet or die trying —

“Hi, dad!”

Regis choked , and it wasn't on the errant sea water that splashed across his face. His magic sputtered, along with the fear and terror that had gripped his limbs and mind. (So perhaps flinging oneself at a raging god was not the smartest idea, especially when one is king and still has a nation to guide, but he panicked.)

Noctis, high above the waters and cradled within a swirling Leviathan mimic, waved both his arms in wide arcs above his head. His smile was as blinding as the sun that reflected off the watery vortexes and the Hydraean's pearlescent scales. The watery serpent, however, as if miffed by the shift of attention, took the boy by the scruff and tossed him higher into the air.

Noctis screamed again, much like the scream that had nearly paralyzed Regis. Much like the scream of a child's laughter and glee, the father later realized.

Leviathan herself rose up from the tidepool, catching the falling boy atop her head. But her scales were smooth and slick with sea, and Noctis coasted down her back at a blood rushing speed as she guided him toward one of her lower fins. A quick flick sent him flying into the air once more, rewarding her with another excited whoop from Noctis.

Leviathan, apparently, made for the ultimate waterpark. The thought was almost as jarring as the knowledge that she wasn't going to eat Noctis after all, that she seemed perfectly content at sporting herself as a gargantuan water slide.

Regis could count on one hand how many times he's been left speechless and daft, but he'll take adding another finger and a soaked boy than have his son eaten alive.

Though as much as he wanted to believe Leviathan meant no harm, he wasn't relieved until Noctis slipped down a solid slide of water and landed back on firm ground, taking a few stuttering steps to find his balance again. With no grand announcement, Leviathan sank beneath her waters once more, withdrawing her powers back and leaving nothing but some light flooding in her departure.

Noctis shook the sea from his hair and limbs before looking up at his father with bright blue eyes and a mischievously angelic smile.

Regis bent down, ready to scoop his son into his arms, but a booming voice had him and everyone else cringing and withdrawing into themselves. Noctis, the dear boy, looked entirely unaffected and swiveled around to step closer to the water's edge.

Breaching the surface, a pale hand gripped the stone at Noctis’ feet.

Regis, with bated breath, could only look on as a tall woman hoisted herself over the edge, dark hair sticking to her bare skin and a shimmering black tail resting in the waters. She smiled warmly at Noctis, who's standing height barely reached her shoulders, and lovingly patted down his wayward hair, wicking the ocean and moisture from his locks and clothes. When her hands reached his sides, she teased her fingers into his ribs and frowned, narrowing her golden eyes before flicking her gaze to Regis.

Her sudden sharp gaze was unnerving to say the least, but when she spoke, it was in that same ancient language and resounding tone, and Regis knew this woman was unmistakably Leviathan, despite never having seen her in physical form before now. She seemed a bit cross at him, judging by her furrowed brows and judgmental stare, but he couldn't figure out why. Not without an Oracle or Messenger to play translator.

“Hey! I'm not a stick!” the boy whined.

Noctis pouted, puffing his cheeks out at Leviathan. She turned to him, gaze turned soft once more, and petted his head. When she murmured again in her archaic tongue, he grumbled some breaths and looked down at his feet, her soft ministrations doing little to settle his ire. “I eat! Lots. Like, um, chicken and sandwiches, if there's no tomatoes or lettuce. I like chili too, as long as it doesn't have beans. Beans are gross.”

At this, Leviathan gave him a suffering  look, even tutting at him, before she reached her hand into the waters and pulled out a small trinket. She unclasped her hand and held it to him, allowing his widened eyes to soak in the sight, before dangling the fishing lure in front of Noctis, waving the sparkling obsidian as bait before his eyes.

He reached both hands for it as she snatched it just out of his reach. The god waved her other finger at him, and shook her head, whispering another string of sounds.

“What! Nooo, please, I hate beans.” Noctis lamented, stomping one foot against the stone.

But while she would move the tides and torrents, she would not move for this, it appeared. If there was one thing Regus had to commend her for, it was for withstanding Noctis’ infamous puppy dog eyes. She raised the Leviathan lure higher.

Noctis squeaked, hopping up and down as his fingers barely brushed against the smooth weight of his distant prize. It didn’t take long for him to surrender. “Okay, okay. Fine, I'll try eating more veggies,” he groaned and with an added, “Promise.”

Leviathan laughed, her echoes like the silent cold depths of her seas yet like the thundering crash of her torrents, an odd juxtaposition that seemed to phase in and out of itself. She dropped the lure in the boy’s cupped hands, watching as he turned the shining thing in his hands and marveled at the design.

Before she slipped back into her waters, Leviathan turned her eyes to Regis, a predator’s deadly focus bearing down hard upon the king.

And this, Regis knew, and he didn't need a translator to convey the message. Not with the razor sharp teeth she displayed in her lethal smile, a promise and a threat set at each serrated edge. It was the exact same look he silently exchanged with Clarus, Cor, and Titus when they took it upon themselves to treat Noctis, to bribe for the child's favor in their attempts of nabbing ‘#1 Uncle’ for the month.

“Dad! Look what Leviathan gave me! It looks just like her.” Noctis ran up to Regis, proudly showing off the rare lure. Leviathan took the momentary distraction to swim off.

Regis, taking several deep breaths and willing his nerves to calm, took both of Noctis’ hands in his. He didn’t so much at glance at the gift, and instead focused his eyes on his son, to ground himself through sight and touch. To make sure he wasn’t having a stroke or some hallucination. “I…” — his mouth dry, he cleared his throat and tried again — “Well.” Ah, hell. ”Yes, it certainly does, son.”

Noctis bobbed up and down on his heels, closing his hands around the lure and treating it as precious cargo. “I want to go fishing! Pleaseeee. ”

Regis really should have expected that. And the begging puppy eyes.

But being merely grateful that his son wasn't drowning in the belly of a sea god, he couldn't find himself to be upset. There was, perhaps, a pinch of fear still left, though he would have to later analyze just what that fear was directed at or stemmed from.

“Of course, Noctis. I do believe I'll even have time later this afternoon to join you.” Regis glanced to the waters, expecting Leviathan to emerge again and surprise them all the more. “But could you tell me what she said to us earlier?”

To commune with the gods fell on the shoulders of Oracles and Messengers. Yet for whatever reason, his son seemed to understand the Astrals just fine — another idea to digest at a later time, perhaps over a bottle of whiskey with Cor.

Noctis huffed, obviously offended at his own answer, and poked at his little ribs. “She said I need to eat more.”

[tayshipping]

“Beast” of Fort Arsenal

♡ pairing: making luck, self ship ♡ word count: 1,364 ♡ warnings: none ♡ summary: Taylor returns home to find an unexpected turn of events ♡ note: I used the monster mash prompt for @spookyselfship and I had a fun time writing it!

The night was particularly still, not even wind to rustle the trees. The only light Taylor could see was the full moon's light shining down on the streets of New York along with a few lit lanterns. It seemed as she came closer to approaching Fort Arsenal, the fewer people there were. Her sword and dagger dangled by her side, ready for any surprise assassins. By the time she had reached Fort Arsenal's bridge, no civilian was in sight.

Taylor crossed the bridge and made her way into the courtyard. It had only been about a month since she moved into Fort Arsenal with Shay. They became a couple soon after Taylor reunited with Shay after he left the assassin brotherhood. Since then, she has been aiding Shay with his cause. The Templar Order described them as 'The Inseparables,' since they're always together on just about every mission they go on.

Taylor noticed a few loud bangs and clashes when she shuffled up to the door. "What the-," she whispered, ever so hesitant to open the door. Her first thought was that someone came to infiltrate and ransack their home but, they had been doing a horrible job of making it unknown. She pulled her pistol out of its holster and had it at the ready. She gripped the doorknob and slammed the door open, then pointing her gun out into the spacious room.

Within seconds, she noticed the room was empty. Parchment lay sprawled on the desk as well as the floor. There was a shattered flower pot that left water soaking into the floor. Distinct claw marks were on the wood walls. She heard her name being coming from another room in Shay's voice. She let her guard down and searched for him.

Taylor found him hunched over on the floor with his hands balled into a fist. She quickly fell to her knees next to him, asking him in a frantic voice, "Are you okay? What's wrong?" Her eyes shifted over to the side of his face. His ears began to become pointed. She noticed the dog-like canines that had formed when he slightly opened his mouth. "Shay, look at me," she implored. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I don't want you to see me, not like this," he protested. "Its okay, you can show me. You're safe here," Taylor affirmed. He un-balled his fist to reveal claw-like fingernails. He peered up to her face, seeing she was concerned.

"You think I'm a monster, don't you?" he questioned. "You haven't attacked me yet so, no," Taylor answered. "Let me help you up," she stated while reaching out for his hand. He was hesitant but, he placed his hand on hers to help pull himself up. Shay sat on the bed alongside Taylor. "I'm sorry if I shocked you. I guess I have some explaining to do," he admitted. She repositioned herself on the bed to get comfortable; she knew this was going to be a long story.

Shay glanced down at the floor before he peered up at Taylor. It was clear that he was anxious. She blinked at him before she questioned, "So, how long have you been like this?" He grabbed his upper arm, "Well, for as long as I can remember. Not sure why it happens but, I know I'm not like, you know, other werewolves." He lifted an eyebrow at her. "What?" she protested. "You don't seem freaked out," he stated. Taylor tilted her head and paused before replying, "Why would I be freaked out?" Shay gave a small shrug, "You just found out your boyfriend is a supernatural beast." Taylor let out a laugh and gawked into his brown eyes. "That may be true but, it doesn't change the fact that I love you."

Shay let that sink in, giving a half-smile. "I guess I'm just grateful that it only happens once a month or when it comes useful." Many questions still filled Taylor's mind, "What do you mean by when it comes useful?" Shay admired her, leaving him forgetting what they were talking about for a second. "Do you remember ever seeing a large black wolf while out on missions and whatnot?" he asked. She nodded at him. "Well, surprise, it was me." Her eyebrows rose, "that would explain a lot but, then how come your-." Shay interrupted her, "The reason why I'm not a large wolf yet is that during a full moon, I turn into this. I fully transform during rages of anger and in needs of protecting, protecting you specifically."

Taylor eyed the floor for a second before she raved, "This reminds of something I read in a book once. The chapter I was reading was about Irish werewolves and how they're not like other types. The legend says that they were called upon by kings in times of war. They're not beast who kill innocents, they protect and remain well aware of who they are." Shay's eyes widened, "You well aware how my transformation works then?" Taylor replied, "Yes of course. I did find the book in your library after all."

       There was an awkward silence after she spoke. Taylor admired him with her grey-blue eyes. Shay grazed his clawed thumb against her soft cheek. She began to notice her mouth was dry and that her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. She recorded the way the small hairs by his ears stood out since they were too short to go into his high ponytail. His lips were also lush.

"I didn't know that supernatural beings were a turn on for you," Shay joked. She grinned at him and moved her hand around his neck. Shay couldn't help but take in her beauty. Her eyes glistened with longing. He couldn't help but pull her down on top of his chest and lock his lips with hers. Shay tangled his fingers in her hair as he continued to kiss her. Taylor had her arm underneath his neck.

Taylor cracked her eyes open for just a moment and noticed a glare of light in her glasses lens. She sat up, still straddling Shay to some extent. "Morning already?" she commented. The light coming from the window brightened the room. She peered down at Shay, noticing that he no longer had his pointed ears and canine teeth. They couldn't believe that they had stayed up all night talking.

Shay pushed himself up by his elbows and sat at the edge of the bed, pushing Taylor off to the side next to him. He straightened out his nightshirt which was just an old white long sleeve. Taylor couldn't remember the last time she stayed in her templar uniform for this long. She let out a yawn and finally allowed her eyes to droop. "Oh, it took this long to bore you?" Shay teased. Taylor chuckled and replied, "No, just now feeling tired." He pats her back and suggests, "Lay down and rest. But first, let's get you changed into something more appropriate to sleep in."

Shay stands up and takes a few steps over to the wardrobe, pulling out one of his shirts. He placed the folded up shirt at the end of the bed, "you can borrow one of mine," he adds. Shay leaves the room for a moment, probably for a bathroom break or to stretch his legs. Taylor began to unbutton her uniform and places it on one of two of the wooden mannequins. She puts on the white shirt Shay had offered. Now they're almost matching.

Shay had returned when Taylor was pushing back the duvet cover to reveal the sheets. She crawled underneath the sheets and waited for Shay, seeing that his eyes started to droop as well. He stood by the bedside and stretched his arms out before curling up next to her. Shay took her into his arms, with her laying on his chest. She felt a sense of tranquil as he started to play with her hair, setting her into a trance. It didn't take long for the both of them to doze off in each other arms.

[makeste]

KHR 071: Miniboss Fight Bingo (Part 1)

Okay, get ready, everyone, because this chapter has (part one of) Tsuna VS Lancia, which in hindsight is such an outrageously cliched shounen fight that after rereading it, I went ahead and made this:

Let’s see how long it takes us to win this thing.

So! Last time we left off, Yamamoto was facing off with Lancia while Tsuna was running aimlessly through the woods thinking about how that mysterious evil kid from the forest was acting really mysterious and evil.

However, Tsuna recalls that Fuuta was also acting weird, which goes a long way towards his excusing Mukuro’s strange behavior. But then I think to myself: “So if he thought that ~MYSTERIOUS KID~ really was innocent and was just being manipulated or something, WHY DID HE LEAVE HIM ALL ALONE IN THE WOODS AGAIN.” And the answer is… …. ……………………… um

It actually was kind of funny though, in hindsight.

Back to the fight! Yamamoto got hit by Lancia’s ball and chain and is now lying on the ground emitting smoke for some reason!

WHY THOUGH

Then there’s another panel of Gokudera being so worried about Yamamoto! Intellectually, I know that Gokudera having feelings of empathy doesn’t automatically equate to them being soulmates or anything! But emotionally I don’t even care, I am already on board this ship and it sailed ten fucking years ago and I don’t know where I am anymore! So you’ll just have to live with me enjoying my 8059 angst!

TWO EXCLAMATION POINTS MOTHERFUCKER

All right, and here we go. Brace yourselves and get those cards out, because Lancia is about to start monologuing.

Wow guy could you just cool it there for a sec

Can we count this as “it’s no use”? Eh, for the time being I’m going to play things straight. So no score as of yet, but we’re only just getting started.

So upon hearing this, Gokudera tries to stand up EVEN THOUGH HE’S DYING because HE IS HEROIC AND BRAVE

“Trying to stand up and failing” is pretty much all he manages to do for this entire chapter, so I have to give him whatever props I can while the giving is good.

BUT WAIT, WHAT’S THIS

LANCIA: ABANDON ALL HOPE

YAMAMOTO TAKESHI: (୨୧ ❛ᴗ❛)✧

THIS CHEEKY MOTHERFUCKER. I NEED AN MP3 RECORDING OF YAMAMOTO SAYING “OI OI” TO SET AS MY DAMN RINGTONE

LOOK AT GOKUDERA’S “HE’S ALIVE” FACE

I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO INTERPRET THAT FACE BUT IT’S GREAT

Also nice to see that Bianchi has finally set aside her own differences with Yamamoto! Things were a little dicey there for a while.

Not to spoil things here, but my guess: It’s probably something really stupid that makes absolutely no sense.

Lancia continues to monologue at them all like some sort of Sith Lord, and throws his giant ball at Yamamoto again.

Incredibly, I didn’t have “it is foolish to resist” on my card either. Lancia is so cliché that I couldn’t fit all of his damn clichés on a 5x5 card, goddamn.

Anyway! Yamamoto, who you have to remember at this point has no kind of formal sword training—or any sort of fighting training, really—whatsoever, then instinctively goes right into one of the Shigure Souen Ryu defensive forms, only using the dirt and his bat rather than water and Shigure Kintoki.

Can we give this boy some fucking props because damn. Seriously, though, this is Surging Rain. Completely untaught. This kid is a fucking legend.

So he uses the dirt he just swept up to track the ball’s rotation. It doesn’t make much sense but it seems to work within the context of the series so let’s just roll with it.

WHY IS HE SO CUTE!!!

Reborn then explains that Lancia’s ball and chain weapon works via the power of bullshit.

Look, I’m not a physicist or anything, I’m just your everyday layperson reading a shounen manga who is nonetheless telling you this is bullshit. If you go over to NASA and ask them if you can create a tornado using a grooved wrecking ball, they are going to say no, once they stop laughing long enough to speak.

But then again, a girl was microwaving things with her clarinet two chapters ago, and another girl turned that clarinet into toxic food sludge simply by touching it, so I’m not sure what it is I’m actually complaining about. I guess it’s that they tried to fudge a scientific explanation when they could have just said “magic” and it basically would have amounted to the same thing lol.

I’LL STOP RANTING ABOUT THIS NOW.

So Lancia doesn’t give a fuck if they’ve “figured it out” or not, and goes on the attack again. Yamamoto charges in, thinking he can avoid it now, and oh no

—THERE IT IS!!!! FUCK YEAH

SWEET, WE’RE OFFICIALLY ON THE BOARD 

Okay, I just want to press pause here for a sec and acknowledge that Lancia threw this thing at Takeshi again, Takeshi dodged it, and then the thing just magically changed direction and started going the complete opposite way, at the same time creating this fucking whirlwind somehow, that FUCKING LIFTS YAMAMOTO UP IN THE AIR. Like, this is a really entertaining fight, but it’s also just. SO ABSURD. NOTHING ABOUT IT MAKES ANY SENSE.

ANYWAY THIS THING’S ABOUT TO HIT HIM LIKE A WALL SO BRACE YOURSELVES

Oh my god right in the babymaker

AND YOU’VE UPSET THE BOYFRIEND AGAIN

1. You bitch, and 2. We know you’ve already said that, please say something new so I can update my bingo card again please and thank you.

YEEEESSSSSSSS [FISTPUMP]

Gokudera is all like “DAMN YOU” and trying to stand up to protect Yamamoto but then he falls down again because of his plot ailment!

NO MY SONS, ALSO, I’M LOVING IT THOUGH

BIANCHI GOES FULL GANDALF AND IT’S AMAZING!!

AAAAAAAAAAHHH

AND THEN LANCIA DELIVERS THE CLASSIC “ONLY USING X PERCENT OF MY STRENGTH” LINE, AND WE’RE ON FUCKING FIRE NOW WITH THIS BINGO SHIT

WHAT A SHOWDOWN

Time for Tsuna to finally blunder in just in the nick of time!

“WHERE IS EVERYONE—HOLY FUCK”

But then he sees that all his friends are either dead or dying and Bianchi is all on her own (REBORN WHO?!) protecting Yamamoto because she’s a goddamn hero!

And then Tsuna’s face does this.

LOOK AT THAT INSTANT 180 IN DEMEANOR. HE’S JUST ONE OR TWO RAGES SHORT OF JUMPING STRAIGHT INTO DYING WILL MODE RIGHT THERE ON THE FUCKING SPOT

Tsuna I love you so much and I want to write another rant about you becoming a different person all of a sudden when your friends’ welfare is at stake, but I think I’ve made my point on that already in past recaps lmao

Still, this is great.

Then a split second later he realizes what he’s actually done, and

SOB

Tsuna has no idea what to do. Until Lancia turns back to Bianchi and says he’ll just kill her first. 

Then Tsuna knows what to do.

REBORN SHOOTS THE DYING WILL BULLET, BUT ALSO MAKES THE MISTAKE OF SAYING OUT LOUD THAT IT’S THE LAST ONE THEY HAVE. THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT LATER PROBABLY

ANYWAY

He actually moved to catch it before the bullet fully took effect. I choose to believe he was already in motion when Reborn shot him, because even if he hadn’t been in Dying Will mode he was still going to catch that thing one way or the other.

AH THE NOSTALGIA

Tsuna is SO ANGRY he SWITCHES TO A DIFFERENT FUCKING FONT TO SHOW HOW ANGRY HE IS

Reborn again says out loud that THIS IS OUR FINAL TRUMP CARD!! JUST FOR ANYONE WHO MIGHT SECRETLY BE LISTENING! NOW YOU KNOW! AFTER THIS WE HAVE NOTHING LEFT!!!!

Come to think of it, wasn’t there some guy in the very last chapter who said he was going to watch and wait for the Arcobaleno to show his hand first?

Uh oh

You were fucking timing him, Chikusa?

Yeah it is the last one. Yeah they have completely fallen into it.

HOW MANY FUCKING STEPS ARE THERE

Back to Tsuna!

This one’s not on the card either, but least they got him to say something other than “THE END IS NIGH REPENT YOUR SINS HEAR ME AND REJOICE YOU ARE ABOUT TO DIE AT THE HANDS OF THE CHILDREN OF THANOS”

Lancia sticks to his one trick, unaware that Tsuna is the main character and this shit’s not going to work this time.

I LOVE THIS PANEL. THE BLURRY MOTION LINES ON TSUNA’S ARM. LANCIA’S HEAD TILTING BACK. THE RAW “OOOOMPHH” IN THIS MAGNIFICENT UPPERCUT. This was back in the days before we had fancy schmancy X-Burners and the like! Back in the days when problems were solved WITH OUR FISTS. LIKE MEN!!!

Bianchi and Reborn watch like proud parents from the sidelines.

Lancia does a backflip for no reason and then Kamehamehas the ground!

Tsuna catches the ball and chain again because NEWS FLASH LANCIA YOU CAN’T BEAT HIM LIKE THIS

And then to add insult and injury, Tsuna Kamehamehas that shit RIGHT BACK AT HIM

oof

Without checking to make sure Lancia is actually dead, Bianchi and Reborn start patting themselves on the back and making celebratory dinner plans.

Mukuro and Chikusa watch from the window. Mukuro admits he’s surprised, but…

Holy shit. You know what that means, kids. SAY IT, LANCIA. SAY IT YOU COWARD!!!!

MOTHERFUCKER HE REALLY SAID IT!!!

Hot damn. 

And that’s where the chapter ends! It feels short, but it was actually 23 fucking pages. It’s just that a good deal of those pages were just Lancia’s giant metal snake ball whirling around over and over and over.

NEXT CHAPTER WILL CONCLUDE THIS EPICALLY GENERIC FIGHT. Will we ever get bingo?? STAY TUNED