#he looks so creature and I need to imitate it perfectly or I will cry

[jesterofthecourt]

Gonna attempt to draw L wish me luck

[charliedawn]

Pennywise 1990 X Reader X Pennywise 2017 "The Joke's On You" part 1

Part 2: https://charliedawn.tumblr.com/post/648205835225415680/the-jokes-on-them-part-2

"Ssssooooo..Why clowns ?"

Both of them look at you with a frown of incomprehension on their faces..

" Because of the fear."

They answer at the same time. Funny, its the first time you see them act so..alike. You mean, of course, they are big scary child-eating monsters..But they never seemed to be agreeing on anything, so when you ask the question, their looks and answers are so similar that it makes you think of another question.

" Also..Are you like brothers or something ? Related ? Father and son, or that can't happen with your kind ? You just eat children and do not produce them ?"

Penny, the tall ginger clown only crouches like a frog while the other one only looks at him with disgust.

" Yeah..Right..As if I would ever be related to that one..Nah. We're just hunting together now..Normally, he would not wake up at the same time as me, so we wouldn't really meet. But the idiot messed up his schedule while overstaying in order to kill some dumb kids and he woke up the same time I did !"

He glares at Penny who doesn't seem concerned at all by the way the other one is describing the situation. Even though it's quite offensive..The older one continues and looks at me with a repulsive snare at the idea.

" We don't produce children. Although, we never tried. We are mostly made of pure fear materialized only by the decaying flesh of our victims..We're supposed to be impossible to kill and we don't even know when we were born nor where. But, I remember that the first time I saw a human, many centuries ago, people mostly called us "Wendigos".."

You open your eyes wide in surprise at the news.

"Wendigos ?! So, that means you were humans before ?!"

The young one snickers and his yellow eyes glare at me.

" Humans ?! Ah ! What a joke ! They cry, love, betray, they only crawl on an endless path until they become old, ugly and die. This is why we eat them..They are of no use..They are dancing on a ball of dirt that they squeezed so much that it has no more to give..And you know what is the most ironic ? Is that they prefer to blind themselves more than face the truth..There is no beauty or originality in humans..Doves fly, dogs bark, dears run and even dolphins are more intelligent than you..Now tell me, why would the world need you, when we have the exact same talents in every animal that comes with the letter D ? I didn't even have to go out of my favorite letter to find every good thing you've ever done in animals that are not destroying their own habitat. What makes you so special ? What makes you think that you deserve living when all you do is destroy and hide the truth ?!"

It is the most you have ever heard Penny speak and even Pennywise seems shocked by his sudden outburst. Penny is so close to you that you can see his anger reflecting in his eyes. You try to not let fear show but, it's hard. You gulp and look at the ground in shame. He was right..What did you bring that no other living being ever did ? Humans were parasites and he smirks before returning at his crouching position.

" That's what I thought."

He whispers and Pennywise smiles almost proudly before hitting him in the back a little too hard since Penny growls.

" Wow. Didn't know you had it in you ! In all honesty, I never even thought about why I eat humans..I mean, we both know that human and animal food taste the same..But, for some reason, I always hated humans..Never really knew why and never cared enough to ask !"

He answers with a grin.

You frown then gasp in horror which both of them seem to notice since they turn their heads towards you in frightening synchronization.

" Wait ! Does that mean..You chose to eat humans ?! That you can perfectly live without their meat and just eat like normal people?!"

Pennywise answers with a grin.

" Come on..You should have figured it out by now..We don't really care about what we're eating, as long as it has flesh and fear : which animals and humans both have in common. But, as he said before, why choose them over you ?"

He looks at you up and down before adding with a large grin.

" Now that I think about it, if it wasn't for your rare quality of blood, you would already be a past meal.."

You shiver and he bursts out laughing.

Yeah..You remember..The only thing that kept you alive was you blood type..O- was, from what you had understood, sweeter ? Like some kind of cake or candy..This is why they wanted to keep you alive.."Saving best for last" as they had said.

Ah ! How lucky am I ?! You think.

You sigh and turn the other way to face anything else but the two clowns. At that moment, your foot hits something. You look down at the ground and are surprised to see some pencils. You glance behind you, but the other two don't seem to care about you anymore..for now. You get the pencils and look around for a surface to try them on and when you've finally decided, you walk towards it. You stop and close your eyes to visualise what you want to draw..Then, inspiration hits you and it's like your hands are dancing on the hard surface. You're so concentrated that you don't even notice the two creatures stopping whatever they were doing to look at you with confusion written all over their faces. You continue and seconds, minutes, hours pass. The two clowns, curious of what you are doing, now stand next to you silently, as to not break your concentration. They just look at your drawing from each side of you, their eyes wide, surprised and unable to find words to describe it. You are breathless, exhausted, but don't want to stop. If it was the last thing you would do, then let it be beautiful..Even if the only living things that would ever see it would be two nightmarish clowns that didn't give two shits about art or expression of oneself. When you finish, you are surprised to find two gloved hands on you drawing..You look at each side of yourself and see the two clowns, weirdly still and their eyes glued to your work. For a moment, you almost laugh at their, surprisingly, childish faces. They look like your young Art and Crafts students that you teach, always awed by whatever you would do.

But, what makes you smile the most, is that the first reaction they had was to touch it with their hands, as if the drawing had called them in. You sometimes had students like that, that could only understand Art by touching it. This is why whenever you would bring one of your works, you told the kids to do the first thing that came to their mind with it (as long as it wasn't tearing it apart or painting on it of course) Everyone had different reactions. Some liked to look from a far, some liked a closer angle and, as you had witnessed, some preferred touching it..But, what surprises you next is your own reaction. You grab one of the pencils and trace the shadow of your own hand on your drawing, as a proof. Then, you gently take Penny's hand that looks almost frightened by your touch, but he lets you hold onto his hand and do the same thing that you just did with your own. He giggles slightly as the pencil lightly "tickles" him and, to your surprise, his claws get out. He wants to retract them, nearly in shame, but you make it clear that it doesn't bother you while tracing the contour of his claws as well. When you are finished with him, you turn towards the older one that had already taken his hand off with a snicker.

" If it is a trick to impress us, it will not work, your hocus-pocus will not stop us from eating you..Anyway, I'm sure you have a knife hidden somewhere and only wait for me to let my guard down to stab me in the back."

You only answer with a sad smile of silent resolve while reaching for his hand.

" No trick. No hocus-pocus. No knife. Only me, your hand and a way to make you remember that, for a minute, I managed to make you feel something else than anger, hate or hurt.."

He frowns, visibly hesitant, before finally giving in with a childish grumble.

You finally trace his fingers on your colorful drawing, mixing the color of the rainbow and the greyish color that composed the colors of their suits. And, at the middle, all those colors forming one gigantic tree, that tree being your own personal touch..A tree that, maybe, will learn Penny that, even though humans destroy, they also create and Pennywise that, even though he lost any hopes concerning humanity, the particularity of the humans, the thing that makes them truly special are their hope. Because, even if animals are better than you in every aspect, they do not hope..And they do not have the imagination to create any other outcomes than eat or be eaten. This is maybe why the two clowns seem much more appreciative of those creatures than the humans ? Because they are much easier to understand ? You smile proudly at your little discovery. Like this tree, humans are made of so many different colors that it is difficult to find a pattern..Both of them said that they hated Humanity, but if it is true then..

" I may have understood why you chose to be clowns.."

They turn towards you : Penny with a side smile and Pennywise with an arked eyebrow.

" Oh ? And why is that ? You're gonna tell us that it's because we liked making people laugh when we were "humans" ?!"

The older one says, putting humans between brackets mockingly while the other one is cackling behind him. You smile again and shake your head while they come down to a sitting position; one on his favorite worn out leather chair and the other one on the dirty floor. They both look up at you expectantly, as if they are expecting you to read them a bedtime story..

" Well..I don't think it is about the form in itself, it is more about the colors and the fact that it symbolizes things that you never had when you were "humans".."

You say between brackets as to imitate Pennywise that is looking at you with another one of his signature mocking smile.

" What are you talking about ?! I am funny ! The funniest in town if you ask me !"

He says proudly, while Penny only rolls his eyes at his comment.

You shake your head again with a smile and even answer with a little laugh.

" No. Not that. You feed only from fear..Correct ?"

They both nod in unison and then, you ask a question that they had never even asked themselves before.

" Why only fear ?"

They want to answer that it is obvious, that it is stupid to even ask. But they have to admit it at the end, they do not know themselves. After a while, you answer for them.

" You do not feed on fear. But on faith."

They frown and Pennywise asks, confused.

" What do you mean ?"

You try to find words to explain your thinking and finally sigh, as it is no easy task.

" You feed on the only thing that you do not have, and that humans are the only ones to possess..Our faith and beliefs. We believe that there are monsters under our beds, then you take their appearance. In fact, I don't even know if you can transform in anything else than scary things, can you ?"

They look at each other before looking back at you and Penny is the first one to answer you.

" We never tried..and what for even ?"

You smile and get up, dusting your knees.

" Humans are afraid, but what they fear the most is losing their most cherished things. Try with me. Try to guess my most cherished thing on Earth.."

The two clowns seem interested by the idea and you can feel them trying to find your most precious memories. They already know your biggest fear..And in all honesty, after having seen it so many times, you aren't that scared of insects anymore. Now, let's see if they are as powerful as they say they are..

Penny transforms into a puppy and you smile tenderly while extending your arms in order to take him in your arms. But then, another head appears, then another, then another..

He returns to his normal appearance, almost as out of breath as you were before.

" I..I can't..stay in this form very long."

You nod understandingly and then, turn towards the oldest that only shrugs at the odd reaction of the young one. Pennywise seems to look at you with a little bit more seriousness, his hand scratching his chin in silent observation. You know that he is trying to figure you out and is taking the dare to heart. And, suddenly, his smile widens and his eyes brighten as he has a sudden epiphany and you frown in worry. What did he see ? Suddenly, he gets up and slowly walks towards you with a weird crooked smile, looking more smug than usual.

" If I have learned something about your kind is that you have one thing that you always bring up.."

You frown in incomprehension, what does he mean ? Suddenly, Penny smiles creepily and you shiver, he must have understood some kind of hidden message because you sure as hell didn't get the memo ! You smile awkwardly, your pulse racing and cold sweat start to form on your skin. Whatever he has in mind..You sure as Hell didn't know what it is, and that scares you more than anything..Pennywise backs you up against the wall of your drawing and smirks.

" I..I think we played enough..I'm tired..We can maybe continue tomorrow..?"

You ask, your heartbeats quickening and both clowns looking at you with bright yellow eyes. However, suddenly, both of them shout at the same time.

" Money !"

" Food !"

You open your eyes wide at Pennywise that gets out some coins from his pocket and you then turn towards Penny that just shouted food like it was some kind of good answer at a test. Tears start building up at the corner of your eyes and you sigh in relief before biting your lips shut, trying to contain your laughter.

Penny frowns at your expression and says in a small, almost childish, voice.

" Wasn't the point of the game to say one of the things you cherish the most ? Don't you cherish food ? Why are you crying ? Did I win ?!"

Suddenly, you start laughing uncontrollably and Pennywise answers him in a really angry voice.

" No! You didn't, big dummy! The game was transform, not yelling the answer at the top of you lungs like an idiot!"

Penny frowns and crosses his arms while pouting. But you answer through each giggle.

" You're wrong! Both of you!"

They look at you with wide eyes before growling.

" Then, what is the answer ?! "

Pennywise yells, frustrated and you answer.

" Love ! We value love ! Family, friends.."

Penny frowns and scoffs.

" Well, you're funny ! How do you transform into something you don't even know ?!"

You gasp, this is why he couldn't stay in the form of a puppy ! He didn't know how they truly acted towards affection ! You could have almost felt sorry for them if it didn't mean alerting their fear senses for food..But, you could try to find a way to get them to learn more about the true meaning of love.��

Pennywise lets you go and sighs in defeat while turning towards Penny.

" Boy ! You don't have to transform into love ! You just had to take the appearance of something she wanted to love, dumbass ! Like I don't know, a human she know ?!"

You suddenly open your arms wide and they both look at you with widened eyes.

" What the heck are you doing ?"

Pennywise asks with a scowl and Penny only frowns, his eyes diverting on strange angles. You try not to think about the fact that you're going to try to hug two interdimensional demons and just wrap your arms around them. At first, you really thought one of them was going to shred you to pieces, but they become as still as statues.

" This is what humans call a hug. It's super effective and it is the first thing in affection."

Penny is still as a rock, and you even ask yourself if he is even breathing..Before remembering that he surely doesn't even have a heart. Pennywise is the first one to move and gets you off harshly. His eyes are of a wild red color and he looks in pain. He clutches his heart and growls animalistically at you. He then runs towards the exit and glances at you one last time.

" I am hungry. I'm going hunting..Penny, keep an eye on her ! If she even moves a muscle, eat her."

Penny seems to get back from his shock and only nods quietly.

When Pennywise is gone, your focus comes back on Penny that, you had noticed, had taken more distance between himself and you after your attempt at affection. As if he was..scared ? You try to approach him, talk or even apologize, but he only growls warningly at you and shows you his really sharp teethes..making you reconsider.

You tried to make them look at humanity from a different perspective, like at your drawing, but looks like nothing could be done..You'd die here. Anyway, the joke's on you since you were the one who thought you could change them..Silly you. Monsters will always remain monsters..Hope ? Who are you kidding ?! You lost that the moment you ended up in that damned sewer ! You start crying and, for some reason, your sobs catch the attention of Penny. He looks at you, then at his pile of toys, then back at you. He then begins climbing it and that makes you wonder what he is doing ? Is he leaving you ? Eat a rotten piece of child ? You have no time to wonder more as he quickly gets back on the ground and, with measured steps, approaches you with the same wariness as a wild animal. He then throws you something and gets back into his corner with a piece of a child's leg in his other hand.

He starts chomping on it and you look at what he threw at you..A music box ? You look at him quizzically and, after swallowing, he answers your silent question.

" Don't read anything into it. Your tears make me uncomfortable, so I got you something to keep you from doing that..If I eat you now, Pennywise would be angry at me for not sharing, and I have had enough of his loud voice for one day. Now, make this thing work. I want to listen to it, it has a nice sound and you have nothing else to do.."

You stay still for a moment before smiling softly at him.

" Sure..Thanks.."

You start playing the little music box and are surprised to see that it is the moonlight sonata of Beethoven..A beautiful music that invades the whole sewer with its melody echoing on the walls. You smile widely, at least something to remind you of the outside world.

Outside, Pennywise has his mind set on finding his next meal, but, suddenly stops in the forest and, weirdly enough, hears the song..Then, the pang in his chest that he felt before comes back and he can suddenly hear the words that an idiotic turtle called Maturin once told him before dying..

" Just because you bury something, that doesn’t mean it stops existing, Robert Gray. You can hide your heart, but someone will one day dig far enough to find it.."

Robert Gray..It had been such a long time that he had heard this name. At the time, he had only laughed mockingly at the old senile turtle..But now..Even Bob had felt it. No..Not Bob..Penny. They had chosen to never speak of those disgusting human names again. But then, she had showed up..They could eat her, never talk about it again, continue hunting children and living until the end of the world..She was human..They both knew that, she would grow old..tired..cumbersome and then die. But then, something else that the bothersome turtle had said comes back in his mind. One time, Pennywise had dared ask why the turtle loved humanity so much ? And he had answered something strange that Pennywise had not expected.

" Humanity has only scratched the surface of its real potential. Someday, you will understand why Humanity is so important, Robert.."

" My name is Pennywise ! The destroyer ! The eater of Worlds ! I have no sympathy for humans ! Whoever they are or whatever they do !"

He kept telling himself that, trying to convince himself but then..Why can't he believe his own words ? What was bothering him ?! Why did he feel this way after only talking for a few days to a simple human ?! Or..was it the tree ? The tree she had drawn ? Yes, there should have been some kind of trick behind it ?! She had tricked them as he had firstly assumed ! But then, why did he feel so out of control ? As if he was wrong ? Did the words of the turtle, for once, really made sense ? He closes his eyes and sighs before punching a tree and making it fall..No ! He wouldn't allow it ! He wouldn't allow the old turtle to make a fool out of him even after death ! He was going to kill her ! And that was a promise ! He was not going to let her question everything anymore ! He would shut her up ! No more idiotic questions: no more opportunities to manipulate his feelings ! Yes ! That would be it ! The idea of going hunting out of his head, he walks back to the sewer with a determined smirk. Yeah..We'll see who'll be the fool at the end..Maturin..

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

WIP... Tuesday?

Just in case anyone was wondering what useless novelty project I’m spending my time on now, may I introduce:

Or more accurately: “Shisui Uchiha and the Saga of the Overly Complex Movie Poster that’s Taking Up all of the Author’s Writing Time.”

Or: “Shisui Uchiha and the One-off Story that Accidentally Turned Into a Trilogy, much to the Author’s Total Lack of Surprise.”

So anyway, I have 30,000 words (3/9 chapters of the first part) so far and as usual, no timeline for completing this story. But I’m definitely in too deep to back out now! My new approach to stories is to write the whole thing, then post week by week. So this one is still probably several months away at least...

But here’s a quick preview:

The list of things Shisui Uchiha regrets in his life is pretty small.

A handful of ill-considered one night stands, several embarrassing bets with members of his family, the summer he decided to turn emo, oh—and one particularly notable fuck-up early in his career that very nearly ended it prematurely. But, for the most part, it’s been smooth-sailing.

Sure, maybe the odd rival takes a pot shot at him here or there. Ancient booby traps try to kill him, or the local wildlife steps in where they’ve left off. He and spiders are categorically never going to get along. But he’s never had cause to regret his career itself. He loves everything about treasure hunting—the adventure, the danger, the intellectual challenge of it all. The way his heart races when he finds some ancient artifact supposedly lost for good.

So, all in all, his current position—perched twenty feet up a silk cotton tree in India, surrounded by about two-dozen armed thugs personally out for his blood—well, that’s just another day at the office.

Two of the men walk below Shisui’s hiding place and he holds his breath, watching. They’re thick-built meat-heads; improbable amalgams of every jackbooted thug to ever grace a movie screen, with jawlines Chuck Norris could break a fist on, and brows that would make a Neanderthal proud. Supressing the snicker that threatens to escape him at the thought, Shisui wonders where Gato keeps finding these idiots. Some sort of steroid-fuelled body building conference maybe…

Comfortable they’re far too stupid to realise he’s here, he swings his legs back and forward, checking his bag to make sure his prize is still undamaged. Thankfully, despite having beaten a hasty retreat through the crowded city streets, the jewel-encrusted golden elephant winks up at him like a winning lottery ticket. One that’s going to pay for fancy canapes, champagne and extra leg room on Shisui’s flight home. Then a lot more afterwards.

But karma, as they say, is a bitch.

And karma, for Shisui, makes itself known in the form of a fluffy grey creature that plops down onto the branch beside him, joined in short order by half a dozen other partners in crime. At first, the macaque just fixes its intelligent gaze on Shisui, as though assessing what to do with him. Then, one very pregnant pause later, after the apparent realisation that no food is immediately forthcoming, the ringleader opens its mouth and screams. Loudly.

Shit.

“No, shhh…” Shisui orders in a loud whisper. “Oh come on, don’t be an asshole.”

The screaming continues, soon swelling to a cacophony as the others join in.

“Shoo!” he pleads, waving his arms around to try and scare them off. “I’ll buy you bag of bananas or something when I get down from here, just please shut up…”

But the little bastards don’t stop and, if anything, Shisui’s heated objection only seems to be pissing them off more. Which is fantastic, because truly the last thing he needs today is to catch rabies or—

From the bottom of the tree, someone clears their throat. “Ahem.”

Or that.

It’s smug, officious, and quite frankly, about the last voice Shisui wants to hear right now. Every part of him sinks. On reflection, maybe it was a bit arrogant to think he wouldn’t have been followed to the temple. To think he was just going to walk in, pilfer a several-centuries old treasure, and walk out again, a comfortable five-figure sum the richer for it.

But then, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Sighing, he looks down to see his least-favourite human approximation of a turd. “Gato.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite globe-trotting Uchiha. Fancy seeing you here,” Gato says, appearing inordinately pleased. His trademark sunglasses sit awkwardly atop his bulbous nose, straddling a pencil moustache that looks like a worm met its unfortunate end on his face some years ago, and he never bothered to wipe it off.

For reasons he can’t currently articulate, it annoys the shit out of Shisui. Possibly because if there’s anything he hates more than someone getting the better of him, it’s someone who’s as much of a fucking waste of space as Gato getting the better of him.

“Yeah well, you know how it is,” he says, glancing around for a quick exit. “Ancient treasures to find, damsels in distress to rescue…”

But unfortunately, the crowd of highly armed men around Gato is growing by the second, and Shisui’s options are looking somewhat thin on the ground. At least, all the ones that don't end with him riddled in bullet holes. Damn macaques…

Gato grins. In the pre-monsoon heat, sweat rolls down his neck and spreads like an oily stain across his collar. “Oh, I’m well aware of how you operate... You’re a businessman, just like me. Always taking jobs for the highest bidder.” Before Shisui can open his mouth to disagree, Gato holds up a hand, adding, “I know, I know… you don’t see yourself that way. Moral code or whatever it is you like to call it. But in reality, the only difference between us is that you have the air of legitimacy that comes with an academic backing, whereas I’m willing to admit what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Gato?” Shisui asks flatly, already knowing the answer. The tired old game they’re playing here.

“That trinket you have in your bag.” Gato licks his lips, as though he can taste the champagne he’s going to be drinking once he returns the statue to whoever hired him, to disappear into some private collection, never to see the light of day again.

“What do I get in return?” Shisui asks, even though it’s obvious from Gato’s expression that he’s not going to like it, whatever it is.

A mirthless laugh assaults his ears. “I’ll let you live to cross paths with me another day.”

As offers go, it’s not very believable. But as much as Shisui hates to admit when his luck’s run out, even he can see the writing on the wall. Today really isn’t his day. Sure, he might trust Gato about as far as he could throw him, but even Gato isn’t stupid enough to shoot him on a main street, in broad daylight. Probably…

Retrieving the golden elephant from his bag, Shisui tosses it carefully down.

Turning the trinket over in his hands, Gato lets out a hum of appreciation. “Very nice. My client will be pleased.” He hands it off to one of his many thugs to box up, then peers back through the branches, looking more like a slug than Shisui would ever have thought possible. Reinforcing the impression, his lips twist with a slimy smile. “Well, as always, it’s been nice doing business with you Shisui. But I think, unfortunately, you’ve caused me trouble for the last time.”

Far too pleased for Shisui’s taste, Gato steps back, raising his hand in a gesture that looks awfully like it’s intended as a final farewell. Or a smug ‘fuck you.’ Either way, the message is perfectly clear.

Shisui rolls his eyes, mentally scratching off another predictable villainous turn on his treasure hunting bingo card. “All right,” he calls after Gato’s retreating back. “Nice doing business with you too! See you next time...” Under his breath he mutters, “Asshole…”

Truly, Gato doesn't have an original bone in his body. It's like he once read The Idiots Guide to Being a B-Grade Movie Villain, then internalised it on the spot to make up for a lack of anything remotely resembling a personality. But, pathetic imitation of a villain or not, his bullets are still effective.

The leaves around him shred beneath the pop, pop of gunfire as Shisui sucks in a rushed breath, bracing himself for what he’s about to do. The branch wobbles precariously beneath his feet as he races along it, pushing off into air that rushes past, disconcerting and empty. The slender gap to the building seems to widen to the span of a gaping abyss—

He hits the rail of the apartment with thud, clambering quickly over it to fall on his back on the balcony, winded, but mercifully unharmed. A macaque peers over the guttering at him, with a leering grin that clearly threatens more screaming.

“Don’t you start,” he warns, waggling a finger at it.

But there’s barely a moment to catch his breath before the sound of splintering wood below indicates another problem. Or an extension of the same one. Bounding to his feet, Shisui scoops up his hat, settles it back on his head, and checks over the railing. A bullet clips the plaster nearby—a pretty good indication that Gato’s men have every idea where he’s gone. That, combined with the way they’re currently pushing through the lower doors to the complex probably doesn’t mean anything good for him.

“Shit,” he announces to no one in particular. It’s times like these he really wishes he carried a gun…

Forcing his way into the mercifully empty apartment off the balcony, Shisui slips quickly through it. Cracking open the door on the far side, he checks the coast is clear. It is.

Of course, it doesn’t stay that way for long. Halfway along the open air corridor, there’s a cry of discovery from his pursuers, followed by more shooting. Seriously, why are the bad guys always bringing guns to Shisui’s knife fights?

Ducking, he runs faster, bursting into another apartment filled with hazy cigarette smoke and shocked faces before finally making it to an exterior stairwell on the far side. Looking at the next building over, it’s immediately apparent the gap is way too far for him to use the same trick he did before. But with Gato’s men advancing on him from below, maybe he can just make it to street level and bypass them altogether…

A thicket of power cables criss-crosses the span between the buildings, with one nearby running almost to the level of the shop awnings below. Sending a rash of silent prayers to whatever gods take care of Indian power line maintenance, Shisui detaches a length of rope from his belt and flings it over the wire, gripping each side like a makeshift zipline. Holding his breath, he pushes off into empty space. To his surprise and considerable delight, the line holds.

It sweeps him across the street, picking up more and more speed, until the side of the other building is rushing at him like—

Shit.

He impacts it with his shoulder, coming to an uncomfortable and jarring stop. Pain shoots down his arm and he lets go of the rope, crashing through a fabric awning and landing ungracefully in a huge stack of bagged flour. Dust floats down around him and Shisui groans, moving each of his limbs in turn. By some miracle, nothing seems broken. Not even his tantō in its leather holster at his back.

Oh well. Fall down seven times, stand up eight…

Apparently his exit was none too subtle though, because Gato’s men are leaning over the stairwell railing, yelling and pointing at the mess he’s made. Dragging himself to his feet, Shisui evades an angry store owner, brushes flour off of his clothes and resumes running for his life.

Never let anyone say archaeology is boring.

As he emerges back onto the main street, searching for quick and easy exit, the sound of screeching brakes and angry honking carries from the road. Cutting a wild path through traffic is an old open-top olive-drab Jeep with several gold charms dangling from its rear-view mirror. It jerks to a stop just before hitting Shisui, both side wheels riding up on the curb.

“Need a ride?” the female driver asks, grinning.

Her windswept hair hangs past the fashionable silk scarf tied at her neck. Unmanicured nails wrap around the slender metal of the steering wheel, like they couldn’t be more at home there. They’re a stark contrast with the cream suit linen she’s wearing, rolled up neatly to her elbows. Speckled with dirt, it looks like she’s probably travelled halfway across the country to be here, and been up to her elbows in the grease of the Jeep’s engine at some point to do it. She’s a walking contradiction—albeit one Shisui is delighted to see.

“Izumi!” he exclaims happily.

Eyes sparkling, she waves. “Hey.”

“I thought you were practicing on the course in Reno this weekend… What’re you doing here?”

A shot rings out, kicking up dust near one of the tyres. Glancing behind him, Izumi rolls her eyes, reaching across to throw open the door. “What am I always doing? Saving your ass, you idiot... Now get in before one of us gets shot, or I have to find out whether my rental insurance covers illegal firefight damage.”

[yanderecandystore]

Can we have the s/o in the old eldritch one get pregnant n stuff

Oh well, it seems like the antichrist will be born-

Well not literally, but kinda.

I think… That maybe I should warn y'all about some possible disasters.

Tags?/Tw??: size difference boo; curious eldritch boy; illusions; apocalyptic world; also mentions of other entities and some of the events that happened in A Bad Dream. Also I'm a dumbass who should have took some medicine instead of writing while having a headache.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Golden Years [Yandere!Eldritch x Pregnant!Reader - Short Fanfiction and possibly a follow-up story]:

It's been five years since the Earth's sky has been broken apart. The red clouds above form a connection to the other world that creatures like him came from. A portal, in a way.

To humanity, this was the end. But to them, it was the beginning of something.

Something interesting.

Not every single entity on Ibu's home was on Earth of course, it's a really small place for so many cosmic entities. And it is not like all of them have an interest in this small rock, only a few, like Ibu himself.

Always the curious one. Most would consider him naive, and possibly childish, if the "concept" of children was commonly known throughout his "brothers and sisters".

He was only a couple of stars old. 687 stars have been born and have died throughout his entire existence, to be exact. Which was pretty young compared to his "peers".

Not that they really cared about keeping up with their age, it was mostly used to devalue each other's nonsense. Someone around his age would be considered foolish regardless of what his morals and ethics were.

But he doesn't really care, he prefers to take his time and learn than pretend he knows everything in the universe. He enjoys being curious the way he is, is more fun to learn about things if you truthfully explore them.

And learning about humans while interpreting to be one is probably the best form of learning he could have ever found!

It's extremely exciting to him, in five years he has learned so much. He learned that humans fall easily into his illusions, that humans are small and easy to carry, that even if a human is in his illusion they won't notice the odd feelings of being high up or being held by bigger hands, oh! Humans are actually pretty warm, and that their living habitats are tiny but he can kinda squeeze himself in.

Which isn't the most comfortable thing, but he knows how to deal with it.

He learned that humans call each other by names depending on their relationship status and how much a human cares for them. He learned that humans are fragile, and that they like small things, and that they-

Oh, it's just so many things you know? He could keep going on, but it isn't exactly human like to point out obvious things like that.

You told him that. You've been really helpful with helping him understand your kind better.

His companions don't really agree with his actions. While he is playing "dollhouse" (he saw small humans doing this ritual of playing with inanimate objects and pretending to have an "a family", he found that so fascinating), his peers are doing more "fun things".

Like slaving humans, or executing humans, or trapping them in pocket dimensions, or adding them to their ever growing collection (like a friend of his who is obsessed with collecting life forms), or destroying everything and everyone that they meet in the way, like his sister!

She showed him a big wall the other day, it was bigger than any human, or even house. They both didn't understand the point of such obstacle. She said it probably took centuries to put it up. She simply smashed it down like it was nothing.

He doesn't know why she does these types of things, but she still finds enjoyment in doing them, so he would just let her have her fun.

She tried to convince him to give up on understanding you and just let loose, as humans would say.

But, he doesn't find it fun at all. He tried it once on a really annoying human, he thinks it was your mate.

He can't remember for sure. He tries to forget unpleasant things. Yet, he still remembers that day.

Could you stop it please? It's getting annoying.

There he was, the annoying human, and some others trying to… Hurt him? He doesn't understand what they were trying to do, whatever it was it wasn't as effective as they thought it was. They were clearly aiming at his eyes, but it only made them itchy.

You never stop, do you?

At that time he didn't remember that they couldn't understand him. He was getting angry, and it seemed normal to speak in his own language rather than communicating on yours.

"- Hey… What is happening love?" You asked him, poor thing, he wondered what you could possibly be seeing. Considering his illusions were really effective on you, he assumes that you were only seeing your husband and a bunch of pricks trying to hurt him.

In your eyes, he looks like your true husband, and your real husband feels like a stranger. It's all that he can do for now, interpret your old mate.

Also, love, you have some bad taste at picking partners, this little human seems a little too possessive, don't you agree?

Of course there are a couple of rebellious humans, trying to survive and fight for their freedom and what not. He really wishes he could care about them, but honestly, how can they expect to win a "war" that is not even happening?

It's not a fair fight anyway, so why bother so much? And also, they don't even know that the most important part of "killing" one of his kind is completely destroying their mask. Which is close to almost impossible.

Honestly, why even bother…

"- L-love? Are you okay?"

"- Yes, don't worry about it." He learned how to perfectly imitate the other human's voice. It's not exactly a difficult thing to do, especially for the likes of him, but hey, he thinks he deserves some praises for doing it.

Anyway, they thought that they could have a chance against him. And although he wasn't looking for a fight, he almost did kill them out of rage.

While holding you in one hand, he made his way towards the crowd shooting at him. One little slap to the ground was enough to shake it and unbalance them. It's kinda silly from his perspective.

How bothersome, if I take these would you stop?

He took and broke (although accidentally) the guns in his fingers. He was actually planning on studying them but, oh well, he can always ask you later about how they function.

Even when he already lost, your ex partner still tries to pick up a fight. It's taking every fiber of his being to not put this insufferable little creature into an everlasting nightmare in his pocket dimension. He picked the annoying one up, while the others were trying to pick some extra equipment they brought.

It wasn't so difficult to trade places with you, but if you keep acting foolish, I don't think you'll exist for too long.

Yelling, after cursing, after more yelling, some crying in the mix. Ibu can't be bothered right now, you two were just going back home.

Can't a being tall as a building go home with his tiny mate in peace? The world has already ended, so why bother stoping him from living his own immortal life?

"- She doesn't love you, and ya know that."

…

Oh.

…. Oh…

"- Excuse me?"

"- Oh! So you can speak now-" He yelled after hearing Ibu speak in his own language. That prick heard every bit of suffering that he put him through, yet-

"- Repeat." Ibu already knew what he said, he just needed to hear it, again...

"- What?" … Just to be sure…

"- Repeat." … That what he heard was correct...

"- … What if I don't?" … And that he had a free pass...

"- … What would your intestines look like if they were pulled from inside out?" … To lose his patience with this one.

It seemed like he could "let loose" this time around.

If only he had payed better attention at you instead of that insolent pest.

He had closed his hands a little too harshly at that moment. Even if it was unconsciously, the damage was already done.

He closed his hand, and accidentally (he swears it was an accident!) Broke one of your legs.

He dropped the other human at your sudden scream. The low sound of something breaking wasn't really reassuring.

I mean, two legs were broken that day, yours and your ex lover's. But he didn't care about the other one, so let's ignore his screams of agony-

To his sister, breaking one of your bones wasn't exactly the worst possible thing that could happen. Actually, if it was her the one holding you, she would probably do that intentionally.

As to her, it was fun to hurt humans like you. But to Ibu it wasn't, it was terrible! He really didn't mean to.

He was plagued by the sudden feeling of guilty overflowing him. It was probably the first time he ever felt like this. It was probably the first time he ever apologized for something.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry please shhhh I'm really sorry I'm sorry I'll fix it I'll fix it I'm sorry I'm sorry

Woah, that was… A terrible experience even remembering gives him headaches. And he shouldn't even have headaches! Stress can lead to his mask breaking.

That would be really unfortunate.

You didn't seem to remember what happened the day after, so he had to help you get better slowly. I guess another thing he learned in these five years was how to fix human bones.

But that was in the past, right? It didn't matter now, right?

Yeah… It didn't… Mattered.

Or it shouldn't. He never really relaxed after that incident.

Not only did he feel incapable of taking care of you, as he started thinking a simple blow of wind could make you fall. But he also felt on edge whenever he remembered those words.

" She doesn't love you."

That shouldn't have been so impactful as it was. Maybe he truly was too soft. He knows better than to listen to the delusions of that man.

He knows that you love him. He knows that! He really… He really hopes he knows that.

He really hopes it is true.

You started acting a little weird recently, he doesn't know how you're feeling and what you are thinking, so he started feeling like maybe you don't love him…

You normally made calls to your friends, although the telephone hasn't been functional since four years ago, since if you truly were interacting with other people there could be a chance of you breaking the illusion. You would tell them what was on your mind while you thought he wasn't listening.

You haven't written in your diary, you haven't made any recent notes on your phone or computer, and you haven't told him what you were hiding.

He wouldn't know how to react if you decided to get away from him. He would probably put you inside his pocket dimension, or probably take you to his own world.

No… That place is too dangerous. What can he do??

He was sitting on the sofa contemplating this last few weeks you've been acting differently. And that phrase keeps popping up in his mind, and is starting to make him sick.

And the thought of you being sad or mad at him from when he broke your leg is starting to eat him from inside.

What can he do-

"- Love? Are you okay?"

"- Oh, don't worry about it… I'm just thinking about some stuff."

"- Is it related to work?"

Oh yeah, "work", he kinda hides outside the house whenever you think he is at work. Even if he wanted to experience a job for the first time and know how humans function under social stress twenty two hours a day through five days, each every single week, there weren't any jobs available.

As more than a half of the population was gone or dead.

"- Yeah… It is." He learned how to deal with this type of question. He saw a lot of tv shows with you, and they all mentioned how jobs are essentially torture chambers that suck the energy out of humans in exchange of money.

Those shows weren't lying or exaggerating, right?

"- Well, I… I think you should relax, and maybe take a break, I never saw you taking a vacation, maybe this is a good time, love."

"- Yeah…. I would love to spend more time inside." Although he literally just watches you doing mundane things all day everyday, because to him all of those things are incredible and breathtaking.

"- I… I have something to tell you…" You seemed a little concerned, was something wrong?

"- What is it?"

"- H-here." You were worried that his reaction might be a little negative, or not as excited as you were. He works every single day, you feel like this type of surprise you probably make him worry more.

But then again, there wasn't really a way to keep this a secret. You're still wondering how hasn't he noticed your belly or your morning sickness, but you also didn't think it was because of pregnancy, so, I guess you're both equally naive?

He is looking at the pregnancy test, not knowing it's a pregnancy test or what pregnancy even is. So he doesn't really understand what it is until you say it out loud.

"- I'm going to have a baby, love."

He is still visibly confused.

"- A… Tiny human?"

"- Pfft, yes! Of course it's a tiny human. Oh gosh, how can you be silly in a time like this."

Yeah, he is a riot, isn't he?

Stars, help him understand what is happening, please.

"- That's kinda what I like about you, you know? You're funny, you never take anything too seriously." You tell him, being fully honest.

His presence feels comforting in a world so serious and dull.

He isn't aware of how to feel, he is confused and extremely excited about this revelation.

Would the baby be human? A hybrid of some form? Would it have his own features? Would it have a mask? Would giving birth to them possibly break the illusion?

He should consider all of the possibilities but… He is just, so happy! This the weirdest most confusing experience he ever had, yet he is absolutely delighted by this outcome.

He loves you so much, he really does, and he knows that now. He knows that this is a proof of love, that there is absolutely nothing that can separate you from him.

You two would be spinning around the living room, full cliche style.

Although, again, he doesn't really fit in the living room all that well. So he can't really do that, but you get the sentiment, right?

Stars, this is perfect, absolutely perfect.

"- I love you [Y/N]!"

"- I love you too, Cameron!"

It's been five years, and yet you kept saying the same name over and over again.

At first he didn't mind, it was a nice sounding name. But as time went on, being called by your ex's name is starting to become troublesome.

"- Maybe I can fix that later." Maybe he can drop the charade and give you one of his many names.

Having you call him "Ibu" would be so special to him.

"- Hun? What do you mean?"

Oh nothing, really.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[imaginefanganronpas]

Hi, I’ve been dealing pretty sucky lately, can you do Mikako x Rei or Mikako x Tsurugi?

You’ve been feeling sucky too, huh? Me too. Sorry you’re feeling like that though. I hope you feel better soon. I am just warning you beforehand, I haven’t watched DRA, I have a general idea of Rei and Tsurugi but have literally no idea what Mikako is like, so it is possible that she is horribly ooc and I’m sorry if she is. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Mikao x Rei & Mikako x Tsurugi

-Mikako and Rei can honestly spend hours in one of their bedrooms without a single word between them exchanged, they just enjoy each others company while Rei catches up on her studies and Mikako researches about the occult

-Rei couldn’t care less about the occult, but she likes to listen to Mikako’s awkward ramblings about it, because she is very passionate about it and it is the only time Mikako talks in long sentences or at all, so the professor is going to take this chance

-No PDA, none at all, these two are stoic brickwalls, though sometimes they brush hands, how lewd, someone contain these two

-Mikako likes musicals and goes with Rei to watch some of them life and the professor has to admit that they are enjoyable enough to keep going with her, even if she doesn’t appreciate the earworms or the fact the soundtrack is gonna blast from Mikako’s room for a month straight until they go to the next musical

-Mikako always stays awake for way too long, its 3 in the morning and she is sitting in front of TV static, waiting for a ghost or demon to exorcise and Rei has to force her into bed, because the professor, unlike the medium, is not a creature of the night but would still like to sleep with her girlfriend

-Mikako can read Rei like a book, it is so easy for her to spot her inner demons and confront the professor about it, who gets of course defensive because how dare you look through me so easily, Mikako?!

-Rei has to prepare lectures very often since she is a university professor and Mikako volunteers to listen to them to see if she can grasp everything or if she dozes off, trying to give constructive criticism, even if the exorcist has no idea how any of it works, she is trying her best, give her some credit

-Cuddling is always a battle between Rei tsundering and Mikako not getting comfortable, but they manage eventually, when the spirits are feeling gracious and the stars are perfectly aligned 

Mikako x Tsurugi

-Tsurugi is always a big grump, but Mikako finds it kind of endearing and often imitates him when they are alone and makes fun of him that way. The cop usually raises an eyebrow but eventually chuckles, breaking his resting bitch face

-They don’t talk a lot either, but they like to listen to podcasts and the such and let other people do the talking for them that way. They like to rant about dumb opinions though and have a good laugh about it

-Yamato gave these two his blessings, but only if he gets to become Tsurugi’s best man. Despite the knowledge that Teruya will cry when he hears he isn’t going to become the best man, he agreed and Yamato immediately needed to throw a party that neither Mikako nor Tsurugi attented-

-Mikako often watches Tsurugi when he sleeps, not because she wants to be creepy, but because she sees his inner demons and his problems with despair, feeling bad for him….even though smacking a charm on his forehead isn’t the solution Mikako, don’t do that-

-Tsurugi’s a sleep hugger, so once he grabs hold of Mikako she’s stuck there for a few hours. She doesn’t really mind though, it’s kind of cute and super funny, because Tsurugi also looks grumpy and troubles while asleep, that cute idiot

-Mikako is also the one that makes sure Tsurugi gets a grip on himself and slaps him if necessary, she knows it’s difficult for him but she is there to help

-Tsurugi is shorter than Mikako and Tsurugi is very salty about it while Mikako just laughs it off and gives him a kiss 

-They get along well as long as you are nice to Mikako or Tsurugi will murder you, he is very protective

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Ten - The Baudelaires tour the Reptile Room

Eventually, Monty called for them, and the children made it back downstairs and found their way to the kitchen. They were surprised, upon entering, to see that Monty had indeed made a cake for them. Gustav and him sat at the table, and handed each child a piece before letting them choose their seat. 

“Sunny doesn’t like soft foods, I’m sorry.” Violet said as they sat. 

“That’s unusual for an infant,” Monty said, “But not for many snakes. Perhaps she would like a raw carrot?” 

“Ooh-ee.” Sunny said, as he pulled a carrot from a bowl and passed it to her. “That would be lovely.” 

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do this.” Violet inspected the cake. Perhaps he had poisoned it? No, Gustav was eating, too, and he’d let them select their own pieces… 

“It’s really no trouble.” Monty smiled. He paused, and then said, “Your parents… told you about me?” 

Violet hesitated. “Not a lot. We don’t know much.” 

“But they designated you our first safehouse should we be separated.” Klaus explained. 

“Well,” Monty grinned. “That is an honor.” 

Gustav cleared his throat. He looked a bit more skeptical than Monty. “You said you were Beatrice and Bertrand’s children?” 

The way he emphasized their father’s name confused Klaus a moment, trying to figure out why that was important. Violet quickly said, “Yes. They got married after running away. We… we can name facts about them, if you-” 

“No, no, we believe you.” Monty said. “Like I said, you look just like your parents.” 

“You knew them well?” Klaus asked. 

Monty nodded. “We volunteered together.” 

They tried to hold back sighs. “That’s nice.” Violet finally said. “We hate to impose, but… we just need somewhere to stay until our parents escape.” 

“What exactly happened?” Gustav asked, leaning forwards. “You said that…” 

“That Count Olaf captured them?” Violet stared very hard down at her food. “Yeah. He did. We… he…” 

“He forged a telegram from one of our contacts.” Klaus decided that was the best way to put it. “And killed him. The telegram told us to come to the city and meet him, but it was a trap. They… they got our parents, we only got out because of Violet.” 

“If you hadn’t run for Mother and Father,” Violet said quietly, “I would’ve been too frozen to think of anything, and we’d still be in his horrible clutches.” 

“If I hadn’t run for Mother and Father, I wouldn’t have gotten this bruise.” 

“But we would’ve been worse off.” Violet shook, remembering the Count’s hands running through her hair. “They put Sunny in a birdcage. When we escaped, we broke into a house that had a library, so we could use a dictionary to break the lock.” 

“How did you do that?” Gustav asked, confused. 

“We hit it until it fell off.” Klaus said. 

“Oh.” 

“A… a woman found us.” Violet started to fiddle with the edge of her shirt. “But she called the police. We got them to at least suspect Olaf of trying to hurt us, but we had to run. We… we came here. Sorry-” 

“Don’t be sorry, children.” Monty leaned over and put a hand over Klaus, who was seated nearest to him. “You are in trouble, and you came to us, and we will protect you. Gustav, you said you administered medical treatment to their wounds?” 

“As best I could.” Gustav considered. “I doubt a hospital would be wise. I assume you don’t legally exist?”

The kids shook their heads. “Bit hard to fill out a birth certificate on the run.” Klaus said. 

“We could contact… some associates of ours.” 

“Please don’t.” Violet said. 

“Gustav,” Monty said carefully, “You know Beatrice and Bertrand… didn’t part on good terms with our associates. Let’s let the children stay awhile and figure out what to do.” 

“Only if that’s okay.” Violet said cautiously. 

“Of course.” Monty smiled. “You’re always welcome in my home. Now… do you children want to see my collection?” 

“Raccolta?” Sunny asked, which meant, “What collection?” 

“Why, my reptiles!” Monty stood up, holding out his hands to help the children to their feet. “I’m a herpetologist, after all! What kind of a herpetologist would I be if I didn’t have reptiles?” 

“Is that the… reptile room?” Violet asked. 

“It’s my Reptile Room, Violet!” Monty said. “And it’s filled with all sorts of wonderful creatures that Gustav and I are studying! Would you like to see?” 

“Is it safe?” 

Monty smiled. “It’s perfectly safe. I promise, so long as you keep a level head, no harm will come to you in the Reptile Room.” 

Klaus, who had read a little about reptiles but never had the opportunity to study them, looked to Violet hopefully. “Vi, can we?” 

She hesitated, and then nodded. “Sure. Why not?” 

Klaus grinned and picked up Sunny, shouldering her as Violet carefully followed Monty, glancing back to see Gustav coming after them, watching them just as carefully. 

Monty led them to the door underneath the stairs, and he showed them his top-of-the-line security system- a bunch of useless levers and gears, disguising the simple doorknob. 

“Brilliant.” Klaus said. 

“Ooh.” Sunny said. 

Monty smiled and swung open the door, and Klaus immediately gasped and ran inside, a cheering Sunny in his arms. 

The room, walled with glass, was filled to the brim with cages and containers, all with brightly-colored reptiles. Snakes and turtles, lizards and newts, everything the children could think of. Klaus immediately ran to a glass container, showing Sunny the two-headed cobra inside, while Violet found herself wandering to a large cage, holding three winged lizards, flapping between perches and chirping. She knelt by the complex lock, eyes widening. 

“This is impressive.” she said, reaching for her hair ribbon. 

“It has to be.” said Gustav, smiling. “The lizards keep escaping.” 

“In fact, the only one we haven’t figured out how to lock up is our Incredibly Deadly Viper.” Monty said, smiling. He glanced towards a cage that was, indeed, swinging open, and said, “Speaking of which, where’ve- oh! There it is!” 

Sunny giggled as the coal-black snake slithered over a hanging pole, made to look like a tree branch. It slid down, hissing in Sunny’s face; Klaus hesitated slightly, wondering if he should move back, but Sunny laughed and reached forwards, grabbing its head. 

“Dr Montgomery,” Klaus said, eyeing the snake. 

“Oh, please call me Monty.” 

“Dr Montgomery,” Klaus continued, “Are there any snakes in here that are dangerous?” 

“Why, of course.” Monty said. “You can’t study reptiles without coming across dangerous ones. Why, I have a cabinet filled with venom samples from every snake known to herpetology! But all the poisonous reptiles are kept in cages with sturdy locks. I promise you, children, they cannot harm you in here.” 

Violet inspected another lock; these did seem to be very well-made, hard to remove. She looked up at the snake inside, and then she smiled a little. “This place is amazing.” she said. A crocodile, contained by the wall, let out a cry, sounding very much like it was saying Woe is me. Violet smiled, and then imitated its call. “Woe is me!” 

Gustav, surprised, came over to her. “You have a very good impression of the broken-hearted crocodile.” 

“I can imitate lots of different voices and sounds.” Violet shrugged. “But Klaus is better at forging-”

“Monty,” Klaus started, looking over at a far wall, “Are those books?” 

“Of course! That’s my library! You may read whatever you wish from it.” 

“We can read…” Klaus was enchanted. 

“And you won’t call the police?” Violet asked, just to be sure. “They’ll just arrest our parents when they come for us.” 

“No. Just us. And if you’re uncomfortable and want to leave, I’ll ensure you get to the next safehouse as soon as you can- I’m sure you have others?” the children nodded. “But please, make yourselves at home.” 

Violet paused, and her and Klaus shared a look. They weren’t sure what they were to be expected to do in return. Every now and again they’d stayed in the guest room of some house or another, and their parents had done some chores or repaired a furnace or something. 

“We could help around.” Violet said after a while. “I’m very good at repairing things.” 

“I can clean the library, and I can read up on snakes to help with the care.” Klaus volunteered. “I’m sure we can think of something for Sunny to do…” 

Monty smiled warmly, and walked over to Violet, putting a hand on her shoulder. “That won’t be necessary. That won’t be necessary at all. You’re guests in our home, and we will take care of you as best we can.” 

Violet stared up at him, and felt some kind of peace wash over her. 

He’d take care of them. 

They all slept in the same room- for understandable reasons, they really didn’t want to be separated at the moment. 

As Violet crawled into bed, Sunny curled up and snoring on the pillow beside her, she said, “I think we can trust him. For now.” 

“Yeah.” Klaus nodded fervently. “So long as he doesn’t call the police or VFD on us. What do you think of Gustav?” 

“Bit more suspicious.” Violet considered. “But he seems to listen to Monty. Be a bit careful around him, but I don’t think we have to worry too much.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Violet sild under the blankets, tucking them over Sunny, too. “I’m never sure. But- close as I can be, yes.” 

“And do you think our parents can find us here?” 

Violet shut her eyes. “They will.” 

They have to.

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 3: Travel Begins

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing Words: 3481

All you could do was stand by silently as the group around you prepped for departure. Arms still tied and now tethered to a tree, there was no one exactly watching you, but you could still feel the piercing gaze of the General. This Bakugou was a tall man, brawny and intimidating. From what you had seen so far, he perfectly matched the description of a leader of an army from this era, or the era you thought they were trying to depict. These people had to be reenactors of some kind or maybe activists who believed in the old ways. Whatever the case may be, they were extremely convincing, and that didn’t just include the way they acted. 

Their clothing, equipment, mannerisms, and speech all matched what you had just recently learned in class, and from just being a resident in Japan. The biggest thing that struck you as odd was that you could have sworn you recognized the name ‘Bakugou’ as if it were something you had read somewhere before. Maybe this guy was trying to imitate a famous officer, taking to his role more seriously than what was probably necessary. The shattered remains of your phone before you only heightened your annoyance at these actors, and you hoped that they were represented by someone who could either give you money for it or replace it in general. 

He wasn’t the only one to be taking this all so seriously. This Tsuyu woman was just as serious, currently stroking down the length of a black horses muzzle, whispering to it sweetly as the enormous creature towered over her. The tiny woman that took you down couldn’t be more than five foot tall, yet you imagined that she could hold her own against any of the men here. In total, you counted six people, two of them being women. You hoped that perhaps they would show you some sympathy, maybe even let you go to return to your friends while the leaders weren’t looking. You hoped but knew it was unlikely. 

Your attention was pulled away from Tsuyu as laughter erupted from two of the other men, one with spiked red hair and the other with messy yellow locks. They both seemed cheerful and friendly, nothing like the grump of a man that stood a ways away from them, adjusting the reigns on his beautiful palomino horse. The mare was impatiently stomping her hooves into the ground, and you thought for a moment that they seemed like the perfect pair. He seemed so gentle with her, talking softly to calm her obvious annoyance and running his hand along the length of her strong neck. It was… cute. 

“What is your name.” Tsuyu addressed you as she approached, leading her horse forward by the reigns. Tearing your eyes away from Bakugou, you looked at her before back at the horse, finding yourself horribly intimidated by its size. 

“It’s… [F/n] [L/n].” 

“Well, [L/n], we are prepared to travel now. You will be riding on my sweet Yonaka. He will watch you closely.” Tsuyu gave the horse a gentle pat on the neck, and you couldn’t help but give a small jump as the huge animal snorted in response to his name. Every inch of the horse was pitch black with just a hint of blue in the areas that were touched by the sun. A magnificent warhorse to be sure, and the thought of riding such a creature made you nervous. 

“H-he’s beautiful but… why are you giving me a horse to ride? Aren’t I… a prisoner? I could just use him to get away.” You shuffled nervously on your feet as Tsuyu walked behind you, untying the rope that kept you tethered to the tree. 

“That’s not possible. We aren’t going to be untying your arms, and Yonaka will not follow instruction from anyone but myself and General Bakugou. He’s the most well behaved of the group. You can try to control him, but you’ll quickly see that he’d rather throw you off than listen to you. Come.” Tsuyu took you by the upper arm, leading you over to the side. This horse was at least seventeen hands tall and how Tsuyu expected you to get on without the use of your arms was something you couldn’t quite comprehend. 

“How do I… I mean, I don’t think I can get myself up without arms.” 

“Well--” Before Tsuyu could answer your question, Bakugou came around the front of the horse, glaring down at the two of you in obvious annoyance. 

“I said it’s time to move out, get your ass on the horse.” He hissed at you, reaching up to stroke the cheek of the animal as Yonaka sniffed his hair, nearly his entire muzzle vanishing within the fluffy blonde depths. Once again, he seemed so kind to the horse, though his words sounded like nothing but venom. You couldn’t help but to glower up at him in frustration, finding that your exhausted state shortened your patience significantly. 

“I would if my arms weren’t tied. I can’t exactly pull myself up, can I- EEK!” A shriek left your lips as you were suddenly swept off your feet, your flailing body hoisted up onto the horse with ease. Bakugou’s strength shocked you in that moment as he got you settled into place on the saddle, needing very little adjustment from you, apart from swinging your leg over to the opposite side so you were sitting appropriately. “Y-You could have warned me!” 

One strong hand still firmly on your thigh, Bakugou took it upon himself to tie your rope to the horse. You couldn’t stop the violent blush that ravaged your cheeks, finding that his touch embarrassed you greatly. Sure, you weren’t exactly new to a man touching you, but you had never quite had the attention of a man this attractive. Even if that attention was to throw you up onto a horse with no regard for your opinion. 

“If I hear you even try to give a single command to this horse, regardless of the fact that he won’t listen, then I will kill you. Any attempt to flee or yell out will be the same punishment. Do you understand me, Demon?” Bakugou ignored your complaint, his glare making your stomach race violently. You didn’t doubt for a second that he meant every word of his threat, though it was so oddly paired with him guiding your foot into the right side stirrup. Swallowing hard against your dry throat, you managed a nod, fixing your left foot into place yourself. “Yeah, sure…” 

“What a disrespectful witch.” Bakugou gave a rough final tug to the rope that tied your arms to the horse's saddle, making you wince and cry out a bit from the uncomfortable feeling, though it didn’t hurt. “I don’t know where you come from or who you think you are, but you will address me with respect. I’ve already shown you more mercy than what you’re worth.” 

“Then why not just get rid of me?” You kept your glare locked with his, though your vision was blurry with tears from the verbal mistreatment. “I’ve done nothing wrong to be treated this way by you people. All I want is to find my friends and go home!” 

“I don’t believe you. You’re out here screaming and yelling in the middle of nowhere, with some strange item and dressed in rags that not even a whore would deem appropriate. Until I find out what you really are and what you know, you’re not leaving my sight.” With that, the blonde left, heading back to his horse and pulling himself up onto the saddle. You could only glare after him, though you were startled a bit as Tsuyu gave a firm whistle from beside you. With that, the only horse that did not hold a rider approached her, prancing towards her in an eager manner. 

This bay colored horse was smaller and incredibly agile looking, with barely anything on it compared to the rest of the warhorses in the party. Tsuyu pulled herself up onto it, even as it shifted in its spot with excited anticipation. “[L/n], I will be leaving the party to continue my duties. Yonaka will be gentle with you.” 

You felt a twinge of worry at the fact that she was leaving, even though you had no real reason to feel attached or trusting of her. So far, she was the only one to treat you with some sense of kindness, and you feared more mistreatment would fall upon you without her presence. “O-okay… I have one question, though… What company are you working under?” 

“Company?” Tsuyu gave a confused shake of her head. “We work for our Lord and no one else.” 

“This whole reenactment thing, you have to be sponsored by some company or… program or something.” 

“We are not performers. Whatever you are thinking, you are mistaken. I…” She turned her gaze back towards where you assumed the shrine was. “I cannot say anything else without the General’s approval.” Reaching across, she took hold of Yonaka’s reigns, leading him forward along with the rest of the party to exit the clearing they had been in. Your body jolting a bit with the horse's movements, you had to hold on tightly with your legs, wishing they would at least tie your arms to the front of you so you could hold on. 

Though, you supposed that it didn’t really matter. You were feeling lost and hopeless at this point, with no way to contact anyone to help you and no mercy from your captors. All you had to do was try to hold out until the end, until this whole little play was over and you could drag the company of this idiotic reenactment into a lawsuit that you would surely win. Unless… this truly was something otherworldly. 

Had you really been thrown back in time? Was that even something that was possible? Were you actually talking to people who had been dead for at least over five hundred years? As you exited the brush and out into the open, you felt as if the universe was giving you your answer. There was nothing there that you had recognized on the drive up the hill. Everything was flat, except for a few select sections of growing forests that were still young. The highway, power lines, and even the city in the distance were all gone. There was nothing but nature, rolling hills, and an endless beautiful blue sky, completely void of city smog. 

“W-where am I?” The question left your lips without a single thought, staring out in awe at the unfamiliar landscape. Tsuyu had brought Yonaka up beside Bakugou’s horse, turning over the reigns to her General. Bakugou gave a small scoff, pulling your eyes to him. 

“We're nearly a weeks ride outside of Kyoto, though that is not the direction we are going. You sure are good at playing the fool.” With a click of his tongue, he spurred his horse to move forward, Yonaka following along. You felt stunned, weak and so sick to your stomach you were sure you’d vomit if there was anything in there to begin with. Instead of verbal panic, all you could do was sit there, nearly in a comatose state. 

It was nearly impossible to accept, but it was the only logical explanation. You truly had been thrown into the past. To what era, you were currently unsure, but you assumed it would be revealed to you in time. 

And time you definitely had. You traveled along at a pace that was only slightly faster than casual lumbering, the entire group nearly silent except for the sounds the horses made with each step. By the time there was finally a voice that pulled you out of your deep thoughts, the sun was beginning to set, and you could suddenly feel how burning hot your skin was. 

“Let’s stop here for the night,” Bakugou called back to the party, having found a safe place to rest. You couldn’t quite find the energy to bother looking around, your throat burning with the need for water and arms aching from being tied in the same position. As Yonaka came to a stop, you almost felt like you were going to slide right off the saddle, but a presence on your right side kept you up. Bakugou was working to untie your rope that kept you connected to the horse, his expression much calmer than what you had seen so far. 

“Swing your leg around.” He gave a vague hand motion with his words, and with much effort, you brought you left leg up over the girth of the horse to sit sideways on the saddle. You didn’t have much time to complain as Bakugou took your hips, pulling you off the horse and onto the ground with ease. Body suddenly rushing with embarrassment at being so close to him, you took a step back, though your legs felt like jelly. “T-thank you…” 

With a simple grunt, he grabbed you by the shoulder and turned you around, untying the bindings that held your arms. His movements were rough and inconsiderate of your comfort, but just the fact that he was unbinding your arms flooded you with relief. “Trust me, now?” 

“No, Demon.” Bakugou kept a grip on your left wrist once the bindings were undone, turning you around to face him again. “I just know how painful sitting with your arms like that is. You seem frail.” 

It was true, your arms were absolutely killing you, the tingling feeling of the blood rushing through them enough to make you want to cry. “I-I’m not frail, but that does hurt.” You could only watch as he used the same bindings to instead tie your wrists together in the front of your body, though he kept them quite loose without enough slack for you to be able to escape or use a weapon. “Aren’t you… scared I might try to run?” 

“You’d be a fool.” Bakugou snarled as he worked, his glare flashing up to your face for just a moment. “You would die before you got far. There is no water source around here for miles, the heat would take you before anything else.” 

“I suppose… Where is Tsuyu?” 

“You just now realized she hasn’t been with us? Where she is is no concern of yours. She took Gama and will not rejoin with us until we reach the castle.” 

“‘Gama’? That horse's name is a toad? He did seem quite jumpy.” Your joke had no effect on him, just an annoyed cock of his eyebrow. You gave a small sigh, following him towards where the rest of the group was preparing camp. No sense of humor, huh. Great, I’m stuck with an asshole. Why couldn’t I be found by a super handsome, sweet and caring General that would believe every word I say! Instead, I got a super handsome, grumpy and mean General that looks at me like I’m a bug.

With the command of a single point of a finger, you sat down where told, taking the chance to stretch out your legs in front of you. Riding such a large horse for so long was quite painful, but you had a feeling that you were going to have to get used to it. There was no way that they were going to let you go, nor were they going to take you anywhere you requested. How far is it to this castle he mentioned…? I hope it’s not more than a few days, I already feel like I’m gonna die. 

After watching the group set up the temporary camp, which was literally just blankets on the ground around a small fire, you were approached by the redheaded man, who had a gentle smile on his face. “You look like you could use some water.” As he squatted down in front of you, he pulled the cork from a brown flask out with his teeth, before handing you the pouch. Carefully so as to not spill, you took it and began to drink, going slowly as to not upset your stomach. You let out a relieved sigh as the water cooled your burning throat, smiling up at the man with gratitude. 

“Thank you, I did really need that.” As you took another sip, you took the chance to glance over him for just a moment. He was just as brawny as Bakugou, though he had a much kinder face. One thing you couldn’t help but notice was the fact that the colors of his clothing didn’t quite… match. It was very eccentric, and the cloth that covered his chest was adorned with two red dragons. He seems… also very familiar. As you finished with the water, you handed it back to him, watching as he popped the cork back into the flask. “Uhm… May I ask who you are?” 

There was a slight, worried furrow of his brow as he took a quick glance back at his General, who was busying himself with starting a fire. “Aah, well… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for me to tell you. Just don’t curse me, yeah?” 

You gave a small giggle, finding his grin infectious. “I couldn’t if I wanted to… I’m not a witch or a demon…” 

“Ah, I can’t say that for sure, but you are different. Either way, I’m Eijirou Kirishima, one of the Officers in Bakugou’s branch of our military. You’d hear most people call me Red Dragon Kirishima, though, and I have no idea where that nickname could possibly have come from.” His sarcasm made you laugh once again, especially as he gestured to the dragons on his clothing. “But, if it’s easier, you can call me Kiri. I’m not all high and mighty to demand formalities.” 

“Hey, Shitty Hair, don’t be conversing with that witch!” Bakugou’s voice suddenly snapped from his place by the fire, making you both jump a bit. “She could curse you!” 

Although you should be hurt by the comment, the slight roll of Kirishima’s eyes and wry smile kept you calm, glad to see that you weren’t the only one who found the outburst to be unwarranted. Still, Kirishima stood, heading towards the fire. “Yes Sir, I was just giving her some water is all, she seemed thirsty. Besides, if she curses me, I’ll just be sure to turn around and curse you!”

“Shut up! Don’t make me kill you, smart ass!” 

The way the party laughed made you feel more at ease, their comfort level with each other admirable. In fact, you wished that you could be more welcomed, to not be treated like such a burden or dangerous person. The small amount of joy that you had felt talking to Kirishima faded as they all settled around the fire to eat, leaving you on the outskirts alone. Although you felt dejected, you could understand. Bakugou had to protect those in his group, and if that meant keeping you distant, then he would. You would do the same if it meant protecting those closest to you, if you were ever to see any of them again. 

With a sigh, you brought your knees up to your chest, hiding your face in them. You sat in solitude for a long while until you felt a nudge to your foot, prompting you to look up, vision blurry in your groggy state. Skewered on a stick, there was some type of animal meat being offered to you by Bakugou, who was currently chewing away at his own. 

“Rabbit.” He spoke with a full mouth, nudging the morsel closer towards your face. Carefully, you took it from him, the thought of eating a rabbit making your stomach churn a bit. But, you were so hungry that you would probably eat anything that was offered to you, and the fact that you didn’t know when the next meal would come lingered on your mind. 

“Thank you. I’m surprised you’re wasting resources on me.” 

“Tch, are you stupid? What would be the point of all this if you died? Eat the damn rabbit and then lay down. We have a long day of traveling tomorrow.” With that, he left you alone to eat, devouring his own food like he hadn’t eaten in days. You enjoyed watching the group as they ate, chatting quietly and passing around a flask which you assumed with filled with alcohol. It pained you a bit to know that all these people were long dead, but you could have sworn you recognized the two names you had learned so far. 

I have to figure out who these people are… Then maybe I can become friendly with them and earn my freedom...

[pamphletstoinspire]

Jesus Chose Mary For Himself

If there is nothing more touching in the Gospel than the way God treats his reconciled enemies — that is, converted sinners. He is not content to wipe away the stain of their sins. It is easy for his infinite goodness to prevent our sins from hurting us; he also wants them to profit us. He bring forth so much good from them that we are constrained to bless our faults and to cry out with the Church, “O happy fault! O felix culpa!” His graces struggle against our sins for the mastery, and it pleases him, as St. Paul said, that his “grace abound” in excess of our malice (cf. Rom. 5:20).

Moreover, he receives reconciled sinners with so much love that the most perfect innocence would seem to have grounds for complaint, or at least for jealousy. One of his sheep wanders off, and all those who remain seem much less dear to him than the one gone astray; his mercy is more tender toward the prodigal son than toward the elder brother who had always been faithful.

If this is the case, then should we say that repentant sinners are more worthy than those who have not sinned, or justice reestablished is preferable to innocence preserved? No, we must not doubt that innocence is always best.

Although we appreciate health more when it is newly restored, we do not fail to value a strong constitution over the benefit of returning health. And although it is true that our hearts are moved by the unlooked-for gift of a fine day in winter, we do not fail to prefer the constant clemency of a milder season. So, if we may regard the Savior’s sentiments through a human lens, he may more tenderly caress newly converted sinners — his new conquests — but he loves the just with greater ardor, for they are his old friends.

Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is holiness itself, and although he is pleased to see at his feet the sinner who has returned to the path of righteousness, he nevertheless loves with a stronger love the innocent one who has never strayed. The innocent one approaches nearer to him and imitates him more perfectly, and so he honors him with a closer familiarity. However much beauty his eyes may see in the tears of a penitent, it can never equal the chaste attraction of an ever-faithful holiness. These are the sentiments of Jesus according to his divine nature, but he took on other ones for the love of us when he became our Savior. God prefers the innocent, but, let us rejoice: the merciful Savior came to seek out the guilty. He lives only for sinners, because it is to sinners that he was sent.

Listen to how he explains his mission: “I came not to call the righteous” (Matt. 9:13), because, even though they may be the most worthy of my affection, my commission does not extend to them. As Savior, I must seek those who are lost; as Physician, those who are ill; as Redeemer, those who are captives. In this, he is like a physician: as a man, he is more pleased to live among the healthy, but as a physician he prefers to care for the sick. And so this good Doctor, as Son of God prefers the innocent, but as Savior seeks out the guilty. Here is the mystery illuminated by a holy and evangelical doctrine. It is full of consolation for sinners such as we are, but it also honors the holy and perpetual innocence of Mary.

For if it is true that the Son of God loves innocence so well, could it be that he would find none at all upon the earth? Shall he not have the satisfaction of seeing someone like unto himself, or who at least approaches his purity from afar? Must Jesus, the Innocent One, be always among sinners, without ever having the consolation of meeting an unstained soul? And who would that be, if not his holy Mother? Yes, let this merciful Savior, who has taken upon himself all of our guilt, spend his life running after sinners; let him go and seek them in every corner of Palestine; but let him find in his own home and under his own roof what will satisfy his eyes with the steady and lasting beauty of incorruptible holiness!

It is true that this charitable Savior does not cast off sinners, and far from sending them away from his presence, he does not disdain to call them the most honored members of his kingdom. He set the leadership of his flock in the hands of Peter, who denied him; he placed at the head of his Evangelists Matthew, who was a tax collector; he made the first of his preachers Paul, who had persecuted him. These are not innocent men; these are converted sinners whom he raised to the highest ranks. Yet you should not therefore believe that he would choose his holy Mother from the same lot. There must be a great difference between her and the others. What will that difference be?

He chose Peter, Matthew, and Paul for us, but he chose Mary for himself. For us: “whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas . . . all are yours” (cf. 1 Cor. 3:22); for himself: “My beloved is mine,” and I am hers (cf. Song of Sol. 2:16). Those whom he called for others, he drew forth from sin, so that they might the better proclaim his mercy. His plan was to give hope to those souls beaten down by sin. Who could more effectively preach divine mercy than those who were themselves its illustrious examples? Who else could have said with greater effect, “The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” than a St. Paul, who was able to add, “[a]nd I am the foremost of sinners” (1 Tim. 1:15)?

Yet if he treated in this way those whom he called for the sake of us sinners, we must not think that he did the same for the dear creature, the extraordinary creature, the unique and privileged creature whom he made for himself, whom he chose to be his Mother. In his apostles and ministers, he brought about what would be most useful for the salvation of all, but in his holy Mother, he did what was sweetest, most glorious, and most satisfying for himself, and, consequently, he made Mary to be innocent. “My beloved is mine,” and I am hers. The gift of innocence could not be distributed with prodigality among fallen men, but it is no excess for him to give it to his Mother, and it would have been ungenerous to have withheld it.

No, my Savior will not do that. We see already shining forth from the newborn Mary the innocence of Jesus Christ, as a crown upon her head. Let us honor this new ray that her Son has caused to break forth upon her. “[T]he night is far gone, the day is at hand” (Rom. 13:12). Jesus will soon bring about that day by his blessed presence. O happy day, O cloudless day, O day that the innocence of the divine Jesus will make so serene and pure: when will you come to light up the world? He comes; let us rejoice. You already see the dawn breaking in the birth of the holy Virgin. Let us run with joy to see the first light of this new day. We will see shining the sweet light of an unstained purity.

We must not persuade ourselves that to distinguish Mary from Jesus we must take away her innocence and leave it to her Son alone. To tell the morning from midday, there is no need to fill the air with storms or cover the sky with clouds: it suffices that the rays of the morn­ing sun should be weaker and their light less brilliant. To distinguish Mary from Jesus, there is no need to put sin into the mix. It suffices that her innocence be a weaker light. That light belongs to Jesus by right, but to Mary by privilege; to Jesus by nature, to Mary by grace and fa­vor. We honor the source in Jesus, and in Mary a flowing forth from the source. What should console us is that this flowing forth of innocence shines for the benefit of us poor sinners. Innocence normally reproaches the guilty for their evil lives and seems to pronounce condemnation upon them. Yet it is not so with Mary. Her innocence is favorable to us. And why? Because it is only a flowing forth of the innocence of the Savior Jesus. The innocence of Jesus is the life and salvation of sinners, and so the innocence of the Blessed Virgin serves to obtain pardon for sinners. Let us look upon this holy and innocent creature as the sure support for our misery and go and wash our sins in the bright light of her incorruptible purity.

[alixzandriapaige]

Grimcliff Court - Chapter One

Hello, I’m writing a multi-chapter slow burn knight/prince romance for my boyfriend and myself. I want to post it here. 

Summary: Prince Quinton of Grimcliff has watched misunderstood magic destroy his Kingdom for 24 long years. When he finally finds a Knight righteous enough to defy the kingdom for its own good, Quinton and his Knight, Alixzandria, must trick the king and save the world from the nightmarish monsters Grimcliff Court has created.

Words: 2.3k

The cobbled, low fence separating Grimcliff’s Blessed Knights from the rest of the traders and civilians in the lively town square was once again the only thing keeping Alixzandria from a satisfactory training session. 

Instead, she had to interrupt her squatted, focused stance with tucked elbows to jump high enough to see over the six foot fence. Once she saw, by performing several quick jumps, the next step of the attack, she squatted low again and imitated her idols.

Alixzandria looked a bit foolish in a grown man’s armor, the weight of it pulling her down and the comically large barrel of the chest drowning any agility that she naturally possessed. However, she was hidden from the townspeople yards below her by evergreen bristles and mountainous rocks, so she feared no humiliation.

Her breathing was controlled - in through the nose, out through the mouth - and her eyes were focused. With twice as much to prove as the soldiers, she held the impossibly heavy, dull sword high above the ground, swinging and jabbing at an invisible opponent, frowning only when she needed to know the next step. 

She dropped the tip of her sword into the dirt, the muscles in her undeveloped arms engulfed in painful strain. 

She jumped again, though she could barely see over the fence that towered nearly a foot above her height. She climbed slightly higher on the mountainous terrain, balancing herself against moss-covered stone to see clearly over the fence. Her new position was precarious but enlightening. 

She raised her sword high in the air, the strain of the additional weight disrupting the balance she had on the stone beneath her. She adjusted her weight on the balls of her feet until she was able to squat low and tuck her shoulders into the proper stance. She peaked far over her shoulder to the soldiers, the new movement testing her balance. She wobbled, corrected herself, and then watched the soldiers intently. 

The soldier’s swords crashed heavily against other metal, sparking; shield splinters flew in every direction. Their defensive positions were broad but flexible, and she tried to mirror them upon her perch. She went slow at first, making sure she understood why they should move like that, then practicing it faster and faster. 

She spent hours there, training with each passing battalion until sweat invaded her eyes and the strain of her heavy sword was too much for her thin arms, the sword becoming too heavy when extended far from her body.

Alixzandria growled as she let it fall into the dirt, collapsing into herself on the rock. The cool earth and moss clung to her skin as she gasped for breaths which caused her head to swim. Alixzandria tried to wipe away the heat that permeated her very flesh but it was there to stay. 

“Five minute break, then back to it,” She warned herself.

She knew the shade-covered rocks would carry with them a soothing chill so she pulled the fabric of her pants above her knee, heaved the sleeves of her shirt against the friction of her sweaty arms, then collapsed back against the rock. It was as refreshing as she had predicted. 

The collision of breastplate against rock echoed throughout the trees, two matching blue birds ejected from their tree-top perches by the fright, fleeing to the freedom of the sky. Alixzandria watched them go, watched the soar of wind guide them perfectly in synchronization, and tried to predict their next movement. 

Then, Alixzandria witnessed something utterly unpredictable. One of the bluebirds became prey to something much larger, the remnants of the bird now existing as a few cyan-hued feathers swaying down.

The terrifying sight of that aerial creature drew her from the rock and beckoned her forth, drawing her by her chest as though she, too, could fly. The creature was as large as a man, perhaps even larger, arms and legs that were spindly and thorned dangling uselessly beneath two large, sky-devouring wings. 

It’s black body, indicative of the creatures the very devil sent to earth, afflicted the girl. She shivered as its grotesque body brought images back to her mind that she had fought so viciously to bury forever: her childhood home before it was rubble, the smiling, kind face of her father, the sound of her infant brother’s developing laugh, the feeling of her mother’s soft fingertips against her forehead.

She blinked the tears away.

The creature chased the second bluebird, and upon easily overtaking this appetizer, turned a curious eye to the happenings of busy Grimcliff town center. It dove easily, thin wings tucking close against its back to increase its fall before they erupted only feet above the floor to stop all descending motion at once. 

The trees that surrounded Alixzandria blinded her to the fate of whatever poor target the creature had sought, but the sudden cessation of beautiful stringed music from the square, replaced by the sound of shrewd screaming was context enough. 

Alixzandria pushed herself forward, muscles begging to still, and dragged her sword in the dirt behind her, chainmail and sword clinking noisily down the slope until she crumbled at the bottom.

Many of the soldiers grumbled in unison, having heard all of the noise. One battalion breaks away from the rest to heave open the heavy stone gate, push it through the dusted dirt, and investigate.

Behind Alixzandria, they yell in gruff voices to each other, requesting help and offering information in small bursts of words. More men are scrounged up and sent into town.

She rushes toward the screams but by now the crowd has dispersed. There was the smallest trail of blood on the floor, just a few crimson drops staining the courtyard and a rogue bluebird feather. Alixzandria hoists her weapon off the floor, the additional weight in her arms and chest burning as heavily as the concentration pooled in her chocolate eyes.

Alixzandria places one delicate foot in front of the other, walking forward as if balancing on a tightrope. She warily eyes the darkness of the twilight alleyway before her, hearing a faint rhythmic whine in the darkness. 

Blessed Knights clammer and coordinate behind her. The thought of salvation being only a few steps away is enough of a reassurance to drive the child into the alleyway along the path towards the victim. She steps forward, one careful step at a time, until she reaches the intersection of this alley and another, and there, in the birth of cloudy light, is a man hunched into himself, hands over his face, sobbing.

“Are you alright?” Her voice whispers in the darkness, the childishness in it calling to the remaining sanity in the hunched man.

He turns quickly on his feet, his eyes a shimmering amber in the fading daylight, though a darkness has resided in them. He pushes toward her, her arms twitch to drive her sword into his chest but she finds that she cannot. On his outstretched wrist she sees a telling white-blue seal emblazoned upon his wrist.

He closes upon her, crashing into her with a hug forceful enough to knock her on her back.

“I thought I had lost you,” He whispers in her ear, the stubble of his chin chafing the sensitive flesh of her cheek.

She tries to push away the sobbing man but the force of his affection keeps her armor pinned between him and the ground. She is sure she could wiggle free with the excess room in her spacious breastplate, yet, with the Blessed Knights only a shout away, she did not fear this broken man. 

“What happened?” She asks.

There was to be no answer from him, he just kept crying into her hair and across her face as he held the metal of her armor tight. A secondary sensation, still wet upon her face but much too warm to be the salty tears of this mourning stranger, trickled upon her cheekbone. It collected there until it grew saturated enough to spread down the immature bone of her face and onto the stone beneath her. It draws her attention to the fading light of the sky as he sobs.

There she sees the shadows wiggling, grinding along itself. She narrows her eyes in concentration and sees two red spheres focused on her, fading occasionally as the creature blinks. As she continues to stare, as her eyes continue to adjust to the darkness, she sees the small figure it holds in its arms. 

More distinctly, she notices how much of that small body was missing. 

“Don’t look,” Alixzandria’s small voice whispers into the night. 

That sound is the catalyst for change. The creature wants newer blood; it dropped it’s previous prey, the body falling two stories onto unforgiving stone, bursting like ripe fruit. The sound calls the attention of the sobbing man but Alixzandria grabs the back of his head and pushes his face back into her hair. 

She looks at the body herself, half of the girl’s face still attached to her body. This girl was no older than Alixzandria is. The stink and heat of the body next to her causing undefeatable dry-heaving.

“Don’t look at your daughter,” She repeats between contractions, wiggling out from under the sobbing man.

Alixzandria grips her sword tight in her hands and raises it up against the sky in defiance. 

The creature, sensing her challenge, roars into the night. It was a disgusting, soul-gripping shriek that no man could mimic. 

She fell back in anticipation. 

The sound alerts all to its presence, which is the very thing that saves the old man and young girl. 

The creature dives, spreading its ebony wings directly above them, its clawed feet shooting out to grip her away with razor-like talons, her sword too dull and heavy to protect her from her near-certain death. 

Something did protect her, though. When she opens her peeking eyes all she can see before her is a hulk of a man and his glimmering armor. The creature is impaled upon the Blessed Knight’s sword, shrieking a few final times before being thrown into the gutter.

The Knight turns around, huge red braids dangling down his chin, a serious glint in his eyes. 

“You again, huh?” Samoi, the battalion leader muttered as he walked toward Alixzandria.

Samoi grabs Alixzandria roughly under her arms and hoists her up, cheap armor and all. He casts a quick glance at the sobbing man and dead child and shudders, but it's above his pay grade. 

Alixzandria scrambles to gather what had fallen from her pockets - a locket, a hide-bag half-full of silver coins, and a tattered letter addressed from her mother. She shoves them back where they belonged and stands rod straight, addressing a leader as she should.

Alixzandria huffed, adjusted the armor that was much too large for her against her body until it sat right. As she leaned down to grab at her sword, Samoi smacked his heavy armored boot upon it, locking it against the stone.

He frowns down at her. 

“No more of this, girl. I let you keep pretending to be one of us on a whim and that was a mistake, I see now. Continuing in the way that you are now will only hurt you.” 

His words are not cruel, but they are facts. Samoi even seems a little reluctant to share them, hating to squash the spirit of what could have been a fine soldier. 

“Train me properly, you will see what an asset to the Grimcliff Crown I can be!” Alixzandria bellows, her cheeks flaming with the degradation of having to beg.

Samoi places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“It is an impossibility, child. You are too young and you have no Master. You can be an asset to others. We offer many trades in this wonderful Kingdom of ours. Give this up, but go be of use to someone else.” Samoi reaches down to the ground, grabs the hilt of her sword and begins walking back towards the gate from whence he came.

Alixzandria fumes, her face crinkling with rage but she holds the obscenities within her as she chases after Samoi.

“It is not fair that just because I have not been blessed, I cannot fight! Let me show you how outdated that rule is! You won’t have to slow down for me, I can keep up,” She follows Samoi, pleading her case with each step.

He pauses and turns back towards her, his eyes old and sad. 

“Perhaps that is something you can put your use to. Fight the rules, fight the system, but you may not fight with us,” He stated finally, then nearly walked through the gate. 

A guard had begun to turn the lever that closed the gate.

She steps closer towards him, heart beating in her chest, hot tears in her eyes.

“Wait,” She calls, her voice shamefully high as Samoi begins walking out of sight. “That was my father’s sword and I have the right to own it!” She declares with her remaining pride manifested in her words. 

She hears Samoi sigh, but all the same he turns around, appears through the crack in the gate and holds it out for her. The heavy weight of it is no match for the bulging muscles that twist up and down his arm. He drops it easily into her grip, which she catches and fumbles under its weight. 

He looks her up and down - defiance, flaming cheeks and eyes, resilience evident in her features. 

“Do the smart thing, kid. Find another path.”

The gate closes in her face. She breathes heavily, mourning its loss. Then she sheaths the blade upon her back and turns forcefully away from the gate. 

She walks back to the alleyway that has just altered her life. She carefully avoids the corpse to approach the man sobbing against the stone. 

“My name is Alixzandria, Mister, what’s yours?” She asks.

Other than the sound of his infrequent sobs, which had grown much calmer with acceptance, there is no reply. 

“Come with me,” She commands in her small voice, helping the man to stand, guiding him away from the corpse.

If she needs a blessing to become a knight, she will just have to find one.

[wolfgangamaderik]

Mindless Little Creature

  The small unwanted thing crawled and staggered around in the room, around her, constantly. It was unnecessary to send it away. It did not understand anything which was said to it. Maybe the disfigurement did not stop at the stomach-turning looks of the boy, which was at least easy to cover by that hap-hazardly sewn mask. The bigger problems lay beneath the outside deformity. 

 Geneviéve could not figure out why the thing did not react to her orders. Maybe because it was deaf or simply, an idiot. All he was doing all day was mindlessly, totally absently staring from under the mask with his ugly yellow eyes, and following her like an annoying small shadow. She felt she had two pets: Bisous, the cute lap dog she would pet endlessly, and that masked corpse baby she often only dared to examine from the corner of her eyes. 

 She wondered if she did something wrong. It did not come to her mind often, as she, to be honest, liked to pity herself rather than admitting she had done something wrong, blmaing everyone else than herself for her current situation. She knew that she should have paid more attention to the... child, or what. She literally only provided the bare necessities for it. Feeding, cleaning and keeping it warm by putting clothes on it. The clothes, though weren’t the ones she once bought in a sudden shopping fit at an expensive clothes shop in Paris when she visited the capital city with her husband once, during the beginning of her pregnancy. Oh how Maurice laughed at her when he saw she bought clothes that would even fit a 2 year- old... but those expensive clothes were too beautiful for a small demon like him. He would instantly throw up on them or had a runny nose on them, making them a sticky mess, just as he did with that simple white linen shirt she put on him. She had to wash the masks regularly, it happened she had to change the masks on him in every three hours as he had a runny nose, without even having one. Also, he was drooling constantly, maybe because of the lip deformity it had.Now shall she bother to dress that mess? That mindless little thing? 

 She was sure it wasn’t developing normally, as she heard the fact any two year old would start to at least say some simple words. He did not. He was merely pointing at things and whimpering. She maybe should have bothered to teach him to talk, but she felt it was useless. If he does not understand what she says, how could he learn anything? He will just depend on her in all his miserable existence, during which she will constantly have to clean him and feed him, even if he will have the misfortune to grow up. She at least hoped she won’t live long enough to see this horrid thing as an adult. All of the situation seemed to be so stressful, she felt so helpless... 

 She had the urge to cry yet again. How this little monster is making her a nervous wreck, slowly, is rather devastating. She used to be a happy, strong and confident woman before the skull head was born. And since that, and the death of the two most impostant people in her life: her husband and her beautiful newborn girl, which both were caused by this small monster’s arrival, she would not stop crying and feeling depressed all day. It was more than two years ago... 

When will it stop? 

No, she won’t ask the little monster when he will die finally. No need to, he won’t react. He never does. He does not understand what a burden he is. 

She forcefully wished to interrupt her thoughts which will most likely send her to sobs shortly, so she just walked to her old piano. It was a long time ago she played it, as she did not feel like it. But now she simply needed something to occupy her mind with. She liked music. She used to like it, at least. Caressing the keys, she started hitting a few notes and accords on the instrument, and finally, without thinking, she played some of the pieces she learned in her childhood. How Papa and Mama were proud of her when she showed a piece that was finally learned... 

 Playing was interrupted by a strange noise. Partly it was the usual wheezing sound of her monstrous offspring, as his nose was stuffed yet again. She tried not to pay attention to it and enjoy the music without distraction, but there was another noise... the boy was hitting the wooden floor to rhythm. 

 Geneviéve had to turn around to realize the boy was hitting to the perfect rhythm of the piece. He seemed to giggle while it and when Geneviéve stopped, so did he. The mother was speechless for a time, examining the thing with a growing interest, once in their lives together. She started playing different rhythm patterns, out of curiousy, and the boy followed after listening, imitating them perfectly. 

- Can you hear? - Geneviéve asked, directly from her son, the first time in maybe days. She did not really address him before... maybe she could try? 

She sat down in front of the small corpse, on the floor and started talking to him... rather officially, but at least, it was something. 

- You seem to like music. I never thought you could hear it. Do you enjoy it...? Oh... maybe will you be able to talk, mindless little creature... all right... say... say... Mama...?  

[polar-stars]

Yuki and Marui and/or Soma and Erina for the Ask Meme: Kids Edition !!!

Sure ! 

Omg, thank you so much of asking and giving me a chance to ramble about these kiddos !

Okay, I was able to doodle a little bit (it really isn’t much) and since I was playing cards with my family…Just let me show you these two for a sec

So yeah, those are Kimiko Yukihira and Chieko Marui. Together with Mika Aldini they make up the trio of Next Gen girls in PSD. So yah, the two are good friends. 

Also, while Kimiko loves to play cards with no matter who, Chieko is certainly one of her favorites to play with. Their matches are epic. 

(Have another great doodle of mine)

Okay…Let’s get to the actual Meme now alright….(Sorry…I just….LOVE TO RAMBLE)

(Original Meme)

Zenji Marui x Yuki Yoshino

their child’s name and why they were given that name: Chieko Marui. According to the almighty webs her name either means “Child blessed a thousand times” or “Child blessed with wisdom”. A lot of people often assume that the name was given by Zenji, but it was actually given by Yuki, who was sure from day one on that the child would grew up as a very smart one with that DNA. She settled on the name as soon as she knew that it would be a girl and Zenji didn’t protest since he liked it a lot. one thing their child always begs for in the store: Books! BOOKS! “Don’t you already have enough…?” is not an excuse to her and she will always respond with: “There is no such thing as ‘too many books’.” She always goes to her father when wanting some academic book….and to her mother when wanting something not very academic.their child’s favorite toy and why: From all the stuffed animals Chieko drowns in (her mother loves gifting her these), the plush owl that Chieko named “Mari-cchi” (Mari means “real/genuine logic or reason” or something like that…) is certainly her favorite. Her other favorite toy is a doll, with a Victorian Dress, called “Miyu-cchi” that Shun bought her, as he one time had to take care of her. She was standing in front of the line-up of dolls and was awing the pretty dresses and it felt like an eternity fro Shun and so he just simply asked her who she finds the prettiest…This also took an eternity and at some point she just asked Shun who he likes the best. He pointed at Miyu and she nodded and then he simply bought it. No big deal for him and he never would have imagined how much she would treasure this doll later on and proudly show it around.their child’s first word: “Mommy”, since Yuki said it over and over and over. their child’s least favorite food: Chieko and Mika really often bond over the fact how much they HATE poorly-handed meat. Especially certain Fast-Food-Restaurants are one thing they can’t stand. the thing they brag about whenever they talk about their child: Chieko’s academic skills mostly. Yuki and Zenji are both really proud about how good their daughter excels at school and how she masters the adaption of written words into practical cooking. the most likely reason their child is having a meltdown: Chieko is not a very spontaneous person. Things going terribly wrong and not at all according to plan is one hell to her. whether they’re a strict, overbearing parent or a laidback parent: Yuki is more of the laid-back parent, while Zenji can be a bit more stricter (he doesn’t always manages that though).something their child does that they find youtube-worthy: Quoting great scientist at a rather young age. how their child would react if they told them they ate all of their Halloween candy: Her eyes would went wide and afterwards she would cry (she was much of a crybaby as child) and completely break Zenji’s heart that way. 

Soma Yukihira x Erina Nakiri

their child’s name and why they were given that name: Kimiko Yukihira. According to the almighty webs..it means something in the way of “noble child”, “princess child” or even “empress child”. Soma gave her that name. “It’s a name suitable for the daughter of a queen” He laughed. Fun Fact, Soma’s nickname for Kimiko is “princess”.one thing their child always begs for in the store: Kimiko is not really demanding and does not often sees things she desperately needs (if she does though, she is going to move heaven and earth to get it, with her father as her ally most of the time). However, naturally as the daughter of two great chefs and one of the most creative minds ever, she always follows her family grocery shopping with her own list of ingredients she needs for her new idea. When older she most of the time starts going shopping herself. their child’s favorite toy and why: An teddybear with red ribbon named “Kichi” (if Google Translate doesn’t betrays me again, this means “luck”), a plush Octopus named “Mr. Bubbles”, as well as a toy knife from a toy kitchen. She owns Kichi and Mr. Bubbles since birth. Kichi was bought by Erina when she was pregnant. She went shopping for baby things with Alice and her cousin brought the strangest creatures that were dubbed “stuffed animals” by the store to her. While Alice tried to choose out of this colorful mix of oddity, Erina saw this plain looking bear, with this cute ribbon and just simply went for it, without listening to Alice’s protest. Mr. Bubbles is a gift from Ryo which he gifted to Erina and Soma after Erina gave birth to Kimiko and he and Alice arrived in the hospital. And do I even have to explain the toy knife?their child’s first word: “Eggs”. It is often used around her. Soma cooked breakfast with eggs and Erina sat with Kimiko in the kitchen, entertaining the little girl and as Soma cracked the eggs, Kimiko pointed to her father, opened her mouth…and said “E…ggs.” their child’s least favorite food: As much as she understands her grandfather’s, her father’s and her brother’s weird creations, Kimiko firmly believes that you should eat and judge them on your own and not having others to taste these disgusting things (that’s how she does it). She disapproves to the attitude of most of her relatives to let every poor soul walking by having a taste. (Erina is proud). She also got to taste test these hideous things here and there.the thing they brag about whenever they talk about their child: Soma is proud about how brave his little girl is. He knows that she can perfectly stand on her own and is more than able to defend herself. Erina mostly talks about how Kimiko sharpens her skills each and every day and just loves to tell everyone how good her daughter is in the kitchen. the most likely reason their child is having a meltdown: When Kimiko would just not be able to do or change anything and is tortured with only being able to watch.whether they’re a strict, overbearing parent or a laidback parent: Soma is a bit more of a laid-back parent while Erina can be quite strict time to times. something their child does that they find youtube-worthy: There are thousands of videos taken by Erina and Soma of Hiraku (Kimiko’s older brother) and Kimiko playing in their toy kitchen and imitating their family. how their child would react if they told them they ate all of their Halloween candy: She would go straight silent and just walk to her room and not come out of it for the rest of the night. 

[okimargarvez]

METEOROLOGY- Wind

Original title: Meteorology.

Prompt: climatic metaphors, phases of love.

Warning: none.

Genre: drama, romantic, comedy, angst, family, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, BAU team, Phil (Luke’s partner), Phil’s wife, Roxy, Derek Morgan.

Pairing: Garvez, Phil x Lucille.

Note: Multichapter.

Legend: 💏😘😈👓🔦🐶❗👨‍👩‍👧‍👦💍🎈.

Song mentioned: Via con me, Paolo Conte.

Meteorology- Masterlist

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

WIND

Distance makes to the love what the wind does to the fire: turns off the little, unleash the big. (Roger de Bussy-Rabutin)

 Not this time. You don't pretend it does not hurt. On the bedside you find her ring, engraved with your name to ' internal. A pause is an understatement, this sounds a lot more like a farewell. It's not the first time that you are in crisis, indeed. But it is the first since you are married. It's similar, but it's very different. It's terribly serious. And you haven’t even had a fight: she did everything. She misinterpreted your words and then made the suitcases.

Every day you contemplate her absence. Even Roxy is disappointed. For a week she refused to touch food. You take her to the vet, but when you explain to have been break up, he recommends you may want to wait a little longer, because your dog looks great, she's not sick. She feels only the lack of her mistress.

Each object reminds you of her and you do nothing to prevent the feelings overwhelm you in full. You consume least two handkerchiefs a day. You cry like you haven't done since you were a child and gradually you realize that these tears aren't only spilled for your wife, but also for your mother and your father. And for Phil, for what happened and for the children than ever you'll have. When you're at home you spend hours in front of the bookcase, fingering the covers of her favorite novels. Many of these you bought them for her.; perhaps exactly for this reason she has brought them with her. In fact, most of the personal effects of Penelope is still here: this would be consistent with her version that this is just a pause, a time to pull the plug. But the fear of losing her is really too big. And then you step one by one the ornaments, recalling for each one the story linked to it. This little airplane, for example, it relates to a case in Wisconsin, an arsonist who didn't want to set fire to people, but only buildings; unfortunately, he couldn't always avoid that there was collateral damage. He had made you sorry and he wasn't the only one. That duckie with its head going up and down, instead, it's a gift by your brother.

Also at work it was impossible not to notice that something was wrong. The next day I that she asked you the break you were gone, almost by inertia by moving towards your desk. But Prentiss had called you in her office. -Luke, I received a request from Penelope. She wants to use all the vacation months that has accumulated since she works in the BAU. You know something about?- you were not able to say anything, so she changed demand. -Did something happened? - you were forced to nod.

-She left me.- you said barely in a whisper, but the boss had heard.

-What? - the cry had probably been heard until to the upstairs. -She left you?- she had shaken her head, confused.

-In fact no, she asked me a break. There is any difference?- you just wanted to throw you on the job and then throw in the bed, which still retained her scent; It was the only way to be able to get some sleep. Even during sleep the nightmares still didn't let you in peace.

Shortly after, thankfully, a case had come. And you had discovered that Garcia would be replaced temporarily by his old ex, Kevin Lynch. The first day you had look at him indifferent; now you both had one thing in common. You both had let her go. But you still hope.

Now no one asks you anything. Emily gave up after she offered you a rest, to give you the way to find Penelope and convince her to come to her senses. But you had refused, telling her that if you would follow that plan, you would always live with the doubt that it could happen again. Unfortunately, it's the choice of your wife, your wife has to decide to turn back because she realized that love was the only thing that mattered.

But in the end you were forced to talk about it with someone and the choice should have been obvious, almost banal; but it was not like that because of the subject you should have talked about. Penelope is gone because she thinks you want children with her just to please the wish of her late mother-in-law. But it's not so, dammit!

-Before, no, I don't want it. And I know say this to you is equivalent to request, almost demand to kick me, but it's true. I never thought about it, the possibility of becoming a father. Let's say that I was also missing raw matter first.- Phil nods, inviting you to go on. -But when I met Penelope, when I realized that I was in love with her, things like marriage and having a family have become my biggest dream.- you realize that you're crying only when a hefty drop flowing down your face end up inside your sweater.

-So instead of sitting here whining you should get up and go to her. It's at her that you have to say these things, not at me. Don't tell me you're scared.- you shake your head, this not the point.

-If I do the first move I'll never know if she would choose me again.- Phil doesn't understand your reasons. For him are just excuses. And so, you isolates yourself more and more. You write hundreds of emails that not sent to her. The same goes for the text. And some paper letters. For an IT. This makes you barrel of laughs and sometimes you risk to get a heart attack, because once you started laughing just can't stop. It ends up that turns into a harrowing cry and luckily there Roxy, the only real girl that never left, who never hurt you, perhaps because she's not a human being, but an animal. You spend virtually all your free time with your face buried in her fur, like you used to before you met Penelope, when you were alone and the world seem a bad place, sad and when you loved the rain because you felt purified although now they say it's acid, which fret that more harm than good, but you're not a scientist of that kind, and even if you have very extensive knowledge, you dismiss it all and live it as would have done yours prehistoric ancestor.

And even now you still like rain, you remained fond of it. You never denied, even when you were with her, even when you were forced to realize that existed some other climates, that sometimes the sun comes out and there's always a rainbow after the storm. Now you're bound to learn something new, a breeze that penetrates in every free space, the cold air that caresses your skin and seems to imitate her touch and then you decide that even the wind isn't so bad and maybe can carry your message to her, like it's in the movies.

 Escape is cowardly decision. It's the easiest choice. And in your life, you've never taken this kind of decisions; you have always opted for the path more complicated, the most abstruse, trying to get away with your own strength. Also, because after losing mom and dad you didn't have much choice. Yes, you love your adoptive parents and you'll be forever grateful to them for taking care of you, when you needed, but ... It's never been the same and maybe you feel guilty for that too. But you're not strong enough, you had to dump all the blame on Luke, on your husband, you've abandoned him as soon as when he offered you a good excuse. How long were you waiting for such an occasion?

You know perfectly well that he doesn't want to have a child with you just to make a gift to his mother. But it's not fair, it's not really fair that you can't have your perfect idyll, you can't give birth to a beautiful creature with skin of his amber color and your blonde hair or otherwise his brown hair and your pale skin as a Norwegian. It's not correct on the part of destiny because you feel you have done everything according to the rules, you're a good person, compassionate, kind, you think of others and you try to force yourself to the maximum to make the world a better place. Why don't you deserve a prize?

But the first time that such thoughts have crossed your mind, did you feel so selfish as to scare you. You had defined a child an equivalent a premium. It's not up to you to judge your worked, rather whose it's much higher up as you. You must not do the good to receive in return something. But you couldn't stop to feel betrayed in some way.

You always wanted to have a family. And you've always believed that if you would find a man capable of love seriously, the rest would come by itself. Why can't you even contemplate the idea of adoption? Yet earlier, when many cases involving children, the option has touched you, and more than once. Especially when you had had to take care of Ellie, the little girl who Morgan had taken particularly to heart. But in the end always some living relative is jump out who carried them away; you should try only joy for them. But it was not so easy.

You should think of Luke, about what he's doing, but if you just let his name touches you, you know that it's over, there's not will be more hope to stay away from him, and if you went back with him, he would only suffer more, because you don't know when or if you'll ever stop looking for a scapegoat on which to lay the blame that you feel. And you don't want is him to bring this burden. You have seen him change, you've seen him smile more, when you are together. You should be his ray of sunshine, a blanket that envelops and protects him from evil, you should give him all the reasons in the world to want to live. And for a while you did it, you did manage to sweep away the clouds, although had to rampage a real storm, first. But now you don't feel more able to fulfill this task.

A son is all you want, everything you can think of. You can't settle for the rest, of the good fortune to have so many people who love you. You just can't. You don't think of Roxy, from the top of your animalism, the fact that you're not only hurting your husband but also your dog, your team and your friends. Yet you can't care about it enough.

You just need to put more kilometers as possible between your real life and yourself, then you come back to San Francisco, get a room for rent and leave ring the cell phone unladen, messages accumulate up to clog up memory. But you notice, however, a detail. No one it's from Luke.

He's not going to force you to do what he wants, or go back with him. He's willing to be sick in silence, without being a burden on you, probably hoping that at least you are happy.

But it's not. And gradually these revelations come to the surface and you can't kid yourself again. Love is selflessness and selfishness and it’s not always easy to distinguish clearly between these two. Not being with him means to make him feel bad, but come back when you couldn't give him only the best of yourself means end up anyway to hurt him. In neither case you win something.

So enough, you do the suitcase throwing in the few stuffs you brought with you; you, the one who has always risked of brought down the jet, because also for go on the field has to take with she an exceptional number of luggage.

You who love the objects and encompass yourself of them. But it's impossible to find a single thing in your possession to help take your mind off him, even stuff that belong to your past, before you knew him, now are tied with him anyway. So, in a moment everything is ready, you go to pay and don't waiting even the rest. You run to the airport, hoping to catch the first flight back home, in other words go back to him, for start again and you want to see where things go between you two, without any certainty that everything can be fixed, but in the end, it's worth to suffer to feel at least a little bit fine.

And you're in luck, because you can make the ticket and pass the checks in advance. But you should never believe that you make it through, until you actually haven't achieved what you hope. Italians have a saying about this and Rossi once did cite it: Don't say cat if you don't have it in the sack; the means it's similar a Until you catch the chicken, you don't have the chicken. You should apply this philosophy, not to automatically assume that you succeeded it.

Strong winds prevent the planes leaving and also arrivals are transferred to other areas. It was not expected anything like this, or maybe yes, but you didn't know because you haven't looked almost never the television, let alone a newscast. And so, you can't do anything but wait, lie in wait and pray it's not too late. Because Luke might get tired of you and your crazy exits, your ups and downs and he could decide that maybe going away you did him a favor.

Then finally the plane takes off and then lands. Throughout the flight you can just count how long missing at the moment X and repeat what you have to say to him, imagining his reactions. But all this only serves to pass the time, because like when you simulated exams with your colleagues, when you're sitting in front of the professor any hypothesis proves futile.

You just look for a taxi, find it, you shout at the driver the address and he understand that you have hurry. Get down, leaving a big tip to him. You don't care about the money. Only outside the front of the door of your home, you realize that it's late-night. You close your eyes. Stick your hand into the pocket; fingers huddle around a small metal object. You extract it and its surface reflects the moonlight.

This is the litmus test. If he would have change the lock, then you would know that there is nothing salvageable and then you would run to looking for a divorce lawyer, to make it less painful and prolonged the situation.

You take a breath and put your key into the lock.

[moonraccoon-exe]

Smol child Iggy

Smol, smol child Iggy.

Baby Iggy in a tonberri onesie.

One of baby Iggy’s first word was “please”.

The next was “thank you.”

The next was “Sowwy.”

2 y.o. Iggy imitating the adults’ formal dances with his moogle plush toy as companion.

3 y.o. Iggy was denied having a pet.

3 y.o. Iggy adopting a rock instead.

3 y.o. Iggy always keeping his rock’s water near it in case it gets thirsty.

3 y.o. Iggy sad cause Lord Petram Lapis Ishi Iwa the First is lonely and sad.

3 y.o. Iggy adopting a stick so it’s companion to his rock.

4 y.o. Iggy falling and scrapping his knees. 

4 y.o. Iggy’s crying, attend him. ;_____;

4 y.o. Iggy attended by Lord Clarus because mama and papa Scientia are too busy.

4 y.o. Iggy forcing himself not to cry while he’s being healed and trying to fake he’s fine because “papa says I shouldn’t cry cause that’s going to make me dumb.”

4 y.o. Iggy crying when Lord Clarus plants a hand on his head and looks at him with furrowed eyebrows because “and not crying will make you a coward. You don’t value intelligence over honor, do you?”

The person that the Citadel’s doctor sees most is child Iggy…

…because smol kid Iggy insists on bringing him injured animals.

“DOCTOR IGAKU, this dog has a cut on her paw :’(”

“Doctor Igaku, I found this kitten, I think she’s sick. Could you please help us?”

“Doctor Igaku, I think this butterfly is sad. It’s not flying :’(”

“Doctor Igaku, I found this baby bird that fell off its nest, I NEED YOUR HELP.”

Smol kid Ignis appears at the door hugged to a big frog.

“Ignis, son, I’m very grateful for your attention but I’m not a vet, I’ve told you…”

“Yes, but there is no royal veterinarian. Look at him, he’s hurt. Please, do something, Mister Igaku. He can’t hop, and a frog that can’t jump is a sad frog.”

5 y.o. Iggy writing a full paper with the most formal and the smartest words he knows and sending it to the king.

It’s a petition to hire a “Royal Veterinary” because “The frogs and worms and dogs and kittens and birds sleep and eat and play here, so they live here, and that makes them Insomnian citizens too and they too have rights of health.”

Back to 3 y.o. Iggy.

Cor walks on in Regis carrying 3 y.o. Iggy in the middle of a hallway nearby the garrison zone of the Citadel. Iggy has a bath robe and the hair wet and he’s looking a bit sad.

“Ah, Cor" the king turns to Ignis “Perhaps we could ask him for help? He’s a very brave man and could deal with the situation for us.”

3 y.o. Iggy is very embarrassed and insists he doesn’t want to bother anyone, but Cor still asks what the matter is and if everything is in order.

“Cor, I’ll ask you to guide this child back to the guest’s bathroom his family uses when they need to stay overnight and help him. Bring your sword.”

“Y-Your Majesty, is everything in order? Is there any danger?”

“Tell him, Ignis.”

It takes 3 y.o. smol child Ignis a whole minutes because he still doesn’t want to bother THE Immortal Cor. 

“…there’s piranhas in the tub.”

Regis is smiling when Ignis is not seeing him.

Cor does accompany Iggy back to the bathroom.

He locks the door behind himself and DOES pretend to be hitting something.

“I got rid of them all. You can bath in peace, kid.”

3 y.o. Ignis is SO EXCITED but won’t say or show it, because damn, Cor the Immortal just got rid of the evil invisible piranhas of the tub FOR HIM.

Smol kid Iggy playing nurse everywhere.

He’s been taught to grow into some sort of second-hand and helper of any situation, so he’s taking it seriously and plays nurse and mom everywhere he goes.

“*gasp* Oh, no. Lord Clarus, you look a bit blushed. Do you have a fever? Let me- could you come down for a moment? I can’t reach your forehead- thank you. Hmm…hmm…you feel fine, mister Amicitia, please take care, you’re very important to the king and the kingdom.”

“*gasps* Oh no, Gladiolus, are you okay? Be careful, you could have hit your head. The floor is a bit slippery, we should check you didn’t hurt your knees, let me see. Hmm…hmm…they look okay, are you okay?”

“*gasps* Oh no, your Majesty, you have a cut on your finger, oh no, we should- we should call for the doctor, and don’t worry, look, we hold your finger like this so it doesn’t bleed and- I know it’s not bleeding anymore, but we should take precou- preque- precautions, your Majesty, you’re so important, we should- my father has a pair of gloves, I could ask him for them and then I can give them to you and then the paper won’t cut you again and you’ll be okay.”

“*gasps* oh no, the baby’s crying, I should- the prince shouldn’t be crying, can I- what if he’s hurt, can I carry him? I’m four, I’m a big boy, I can carry him, the queen used to do like *motions* when she carried him and the king is busy, so it’s up to me now, right? Can I- let me carry him, he’s so small, he shouldn’t be crying :’(”

“*gasps* Oh no, mister the Immortal, you have a bruise on your face, are you okay? Come on, let’s go to the kitchen, they should have ice, and it’s closer than the doctor’s office and the doctor is busy, and I want to help, that bruise will get bad if we don’t do something.”

“Ignis, kiddo, I’m fin-”

“You sit down here and I- *climbs up another chair* and I apply the ice and it’ll be okay.”

By the way:

Smol kid Ignis thinks Cor’s last name is “the Immortal”.

Hence “Good morning, Mr. the Immortal”, “Good afternoon, Mr. The Immortal”, “do you have a Mrs. the Immortal, sir?”

A younger smol kid Ignis also used to think “your Majesty” was Regis’ name.

This means Ignis thinks Regis’ full name is “Your Majesty King Regis Lucis Caelum the one hundred thirteen.”

Smol kid Ignis practiced saying the name daily for three months to get it right and from heart.

Smol kid Ignis avoiding all puddles he sees.

Mama told him to always stay perfectly clean in every inch of his body because he’s being educated by royalty, so the least he can do is look presentable and the best. 

Smol kid Ignis getting super angry when smol kid Gladio stomps in the puddles for fun.

Smol kid Ignis learning he’s growing up to be also a tutor to the prince.

So smol kid Ignis is super nervous about it and tries to rehearse on his own.

Smol kid Ignis basically breaking down in front of the king when he went tell him that he’s “not worth teaching your son, I’m just 8 and I’m not smart enough.”

King Regis making space in his schedule, even though the rest of the week will be extra super tight on him, so that he spends an evening in a room all alone with Ignis; he asked smol kid Ignis to “teach me what you learned in algebra the other day. I don’t understand it, and I’m king, so I should learn, right? Can you teach me, son?”

Regis SO knows algebra, but he will never be more grateful he asked for this, because

Smol kid Ignis extra super damn excited because he’s teaching the king himself, “I’m super smart! The KING himself came to ask me something, I’m so smart! :)”

Smol kid Ignis growing confident because of that.

Smol kid Ignis hugs every book he sees and thanks it for existing.

Smol kid Ignis hugs the trees and thanks them for existing.

Smol kid Ignis apologizes to the rocks he accidentally kicks.

Smol kid Ignis puts his hands to his cheeks and says “Oh no!” if he accidentally drops something.

He does that too when the most unimportant thing goes wrong.

It’s concerning that he overworries so much, but honestly the “*gasps* oh no!” is adorable, dammit.

5 y.o. Iggy meeting other kids that try to bully him.

5 y.o. Iggy delivering a mean comeback and learning words and information can cause greater harm than kicks or insults. 

5 y.o. Iggy is the devil, he just discovered his brilliant strategist mind.

Smol kid Iggy growing up into having to read a lot and enjoying to read through dictionaries.

Oversmart kid + dictionary + the mind of a child = that’s how he grew up turning into the Master of Puns.

Smol kid Iggy will ask for Regis when he’s hurt.

Scrapped his knee? Kid Iggy can stay sat there, quietly crying because he doesn’t want to bother anyone, and when you find him he’ll cry harder and sob “M-mister your m-majesty…”

Only way Ignis will stop crying is either you leave him alone (wrong!) or you get Regis to comfort him.

Even though he’ll stay hugged to the king, smol Ignis will still apologize to Regis because “you should be working, your Ma-Majesty…”

Regis has always gladly changed work for comforting this little creature made of angel tears and purity.

Smol kig Iggy asking the royal chefs every now and then to bake some cookies or muffins.

Smol kid Iggy going around the Citadel gifting a cookie or muffin to the people he sees.

Smol kid Iggy using his save-ups to pay the chefs.

The chefs used to refuse it but it’s kid Iggy, you can’t say no to something like that because “it will stain his honor”.

Smol kid Iggy gets overly excited with some things he likes, but he’s too terribly, excruciatingly shy, and fears that adults may think he’s behaving like a baby, so he tries to hide his excitementwhen he sees something he likes.

There we have a smol kid Iggy seeing a moogle mascot; smol Iggy proceeds to grin and brounce over his feet, before his shyness wins and he just half-hides behind his adult in charge, embarrassed.

We have the luck that most of the adults in his charge know him well enough to recognize when smol Iggy is shy about what he likes, so they encourage him to have fun and that it’s okay.

Smol Iggy hugs the Immortal every time that Cor takes him out for a fun day.

Smol Iggy is so used to stay at the Citadel and study, he really, really, really appreciates it when someone takes him out. 

“Thank you, Mister the Immortal… :’)”

Smol kid Iggy pets smoler kid Noct constantly.

He pets him to comfort him when he’s sad, to cheer on him when he does something good, or to thank him.

Whenever smol kid Noct is scared of the monsters under the bed or in the closet, it’s smol kid Iggy who checks for him.

Smol kid Iggy is TERRIFIED of those monsters…

Smol kid Iggy is sometimes almost crying as he checks because he’s so scared.

He won’t tell Noct how scared he is, though. Smol kid Iggy checks despite his fear because he wants Noct to feel safe… :’)

Smol kid Iggy hearing the queen passed.

Clarus walks on in a pair of guards arguing with child Ignis nearby the king’s chambers.

“Stop, stop, what is this mess?”

“This kid wants to go into his Majesty’s bedroom without permission.”

“Ignis?”

“The queen has passed, right? So that means she’s in peace, but that also means her side of the bed is unoccupied, right? So your Majesty will have, from a night to the next one, all that space for himself, but he’s not big enough to fill the bed on his own, but nobody except the queen should be sleeping with him, but he also shouldn’t be so lonely in such a big bed, so I only wanted to leave my moogle in his room so that the empty space is occupied when he comes back and so that he has some company. Moogle is not a queen, but he also isn’t a person, so I thought he’d like it.”

“…oh. And…wouldn’t you miss your moogle, Ignis?”

“Of course I would! But the king must miss the queen more than I’d miss my moogle. Also, my bed is for one person, and the king’s bed is for two, so it’s silly we both sleep in one bed and the king sleeps alone. Also, I don’t want the king to be sad, and moogle can help. He’s a good listener”

Dammit, the guards let him through.

How can you deny him?

He’s like 4 but he’s so smart and uses that intelligence to do things like this.

HOW.

WHY.

HOW CAN HE BE SO SWEET *the guards are crying*

I’d try to write more adorable things, but to be honest Ignis is a pretty damn tragic character and I’d have to get terribly off canon just to see him smile, ahahaha ////3

Edit: This was the first of the “Smol kid” series; I didn’t write it too seriously and didn’t know I’d make it a series, so it’s the shortest. I’d like to write more for Smol child Iggy sometime soon. Hope you enjoyed that’s here, nonetheless. :)

SMOL KID IGGY.

He’s life. He needs cuddles and protection. Give them to him.

Here’s smol child Noctis.Here’s smol child Gladiolus.Here’s smol child Prompto.

[9r7g5h]

Remember All - P1

Fandom: Xena: Warrior Princess

Overall Rating: T+ (Rating subject to change); Chapter Rating: K  

Genre: General

Summary:   Given another chance, left with her memories of their first time through, Gabrielle knows there's only one option for her- let Xena live. Whatever she had to do, whatever she had to change to make sure that would happen, Gabrielle was willing to do it.

Words: 4,684

AN 1: So, a while ago, I had made a tumblr post about how I prefer to put 'When Fates Collide' after FIN, just because the episodic nature of the show allows it and because I love that episode the most. I also put forward the idea of how cool it would have been if, at the end of 'When Fates Collide,' instead of reuniting Xena and Gabrielle, the beginning of 'Sins of the Past' had started playing. Because the idea that the two of them are so in love they would be willing to go through all of the heartache and pain once more, just to have those precious few years together? I adore it. Now, the lovely @acrossnowhere made a comment on my post about Gabrielle possibly remembering everything that happened, and my mind exploded. It exploded, resulting in a giant ass fic that's already almost 30K and still not done yet, so yeah. This is going to be a ride, my friends, and I hope you enjoy!

AN 2: Just a reminder, I place 'When Fates Collide' after FIN, so there's some slight inconsistency with the actual airing of the show. But this is fanfic and I don't care.

Disclaimer: I do not own Xena.

P1, P2, ???

It was sick, Gabrielle could admit, but standing there, watching the flames? She couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction in knowing that the world had tried so hard to keep them apart, and it would burn for its sins.

She sunk to her knees as she watched the loom burn, the fire spreading up through the tangled threads to the wood itself. It was beautiful, watching this disgusting mess, this pale imitation of what could have been, destroy itself. She didn’t care that it would destroy everything along with it- the universe had taken Xena from her in both worlds, so why should she? Why should she care, when just a few miles away, the other half of her soul was dead; when in the other world, her soulmate was nothing more than ash? It didn’t matter to her, either way. Her life was already over- she was just waiting for it to end.

Closing her eyes, Gabrielle tilted her head back as the flames consumed the last of the wood, a small smile on her lips even as the Fates behind her screamed, pleaded with her to see reason, begged for a chance to make this right. Closing her eyes as the fire spread to the carpet she kneeled on, Gabrielle felt the flames began to lick at her skin, the pain almost nothing in comparison to the pain in her heart.  

Closing her eyes, Gabrielle screamed.

“Gabrielle? Gabrielle, come on! It’s your turn to get the eggs.”  

Only to open them as Lila called her name, poking her in the side to get her to wake up.

It was a dream, she eventually settled on. A dying dream as she burned, as the world crumbled around her. For some reason her mind had chosen to bring her back home, back to when she was young, before she had ever met Xena- one last good bye, perhaps, to the people she had lost? Or perhaps a reminder of what had been lost, the innocence and calm that had long since disappeared from her life. She couldn’t be sure- all Gabrielle knew was that, when she left her bed, her mother was at the fire place, checking on their bread, while her father brought in the last bucket of water their home would need before he left for the field. People who smiled at her and greeted her a good morning, even if her father poked fun at her late rising.

People who accepted her hug and held her as she began to cry, trying to sooth away whatever night terror had brought her to tears.

It was strange, this dream. She passed the hours in almost a daze, helping her mother and sister with their chores, calling her father in for lunch, laughing and joking with them in a way she hadn't done in years. At least, years in the original world, the one this most resembled. She still had her memories of the other world, the world Caesar had brought upon them, and there she had seen her family just a week before she had left for Rome.

Lila had been pregnant again, more than happily married to the man she loved, the man who tended her vineyard and turned the grapes into wine. Their parents had never left the farm, even after Gabrielle had offered to buy them a house closer to her own, but they made the effort to visit between the harvests. They had all been preparing one last family dinner before her boat left, since her tour with her play would keep her away for who knew how long. It had been nice, catching up with them all, promising she would send word of how the play was received, promising the children presents all the way from Rome. It had been nice, even if it hadn't been real.

The last time in the real would had been after Hope, after Gabrielle had died and come back to life, something even she couldn't understand. And then it had been an argument, a series of explanations as they tried to get her parents to understand what had happened, tried to get them to realize the lies Hope had placed in their heads, tried to give them the truth.

Xena had eventually lied, when it had become clear that demon children that grew up to look exactly like their mothers were too much for them. She claimed an evil god had created a shape shifter, something that could mimic another being perfectly. Said shape shifter had first seen Gabrielle after it had been born, and had chosen her to model itself after. Said that she and Gabrielle had gotten separated from each other, and when Xena came to Potediea to find her, had found the creature instead, pretending to be her. That the creature had then lied, tried to turn Gabrielle's family against her, and would have succeeded if not for the real Gabrielle reaching Potediea herself, just in time.

It had been a bitter parting, having to leave her parents with lies about their lives, but what else could she have done?

So this dream was nice. It was normal, safe, a couple of months before she met Xena, if Gabrielle had to place it somewhere in her past. A dream where she could remember the family she had lost, and have one more day with them before her mind was destroyed with the rest of the world.

Until that night. Until after dinner, as they all sat around the fireplace, keeping themselves busy until it was time for bed. Her mother spinning, Lila playing with the cat, her father working on some small carving- if this was to be her last night here, for Gabrielle was sure the dream would end the moment she went to sleep, she would spent it with some fragment of normalcy. So she had a scroll and a quill and some ink, idly writing out whatever came to mind, at peace with the world around her and the last remnants of her dream.

"I don't know why you bother," Heradotus sighed, shaking his head as he glanced up at her parchment- not that he could read it, no; it was Hecuba who could read, and who had insisted on teaching both girls, even if their father saw no use it in. He knew just enough to read a road sign if he had to travel, and even then, he took the same path he always had, making it unnecessary. "You need to get your head out of the cloud, girl. Those stories will never do anything for you."

"Heradotus, leave her alone," Hecuba said, her eyes never leaving her work, her hands never stopping, but a warning tone in her voice. "She's happy- let her write."

"There's more important things she could be doing," he protested, as if Gabrielle wasn't there, sitting tense and listening to every word. "Like weaving or sewing or half a dozen other things that are actually worth wild doing. Your scarf you're going to make with that yarn will keep one of us warm, or will sell for a couple extra dinars for the winter. Words aren't worth nothing."

Part of Gabrielle was still, frozen, trying desperately to ignore the words falling from her father's mouth. It was an argument he and her mother had had time and time again, an argument that would end with both of them angry and neither of them speaking to the other. He would apologize for it the next day, bringing her a new quill or vial of ink, and would ask for her to tell a story for them to listen to, nodding in approval as she spoke. And during the winter that was all he would ask, story after story as they sat cooped up in the house, unable to go further than the barn due to the snow piled almost as high as she was tall. He would say how well she spoke, how good her stories were, and this was an argument that would lie dormant for at least a couple of months.

But reading and writing weren't traits expected of a wife, and whenever he got started on thinking about the future, about how Perdicas, even though he wanted to marry her, had his entire family supporting him taking some other, less head strong girl as a wife, Heradotus' disapproval would rear its nasty head once more.

So part of her told her to ignore it, reminded her that this would pass. But the part that remembered this was a dream- that remembered Gabrielle was much older than she seemed, someone who had spent the last almost thirty years (most of them asleep, yes, but still she counted them) as friend, companion, and lover to the most dangerous woman in the world; the part that reminded her she was an Amazon Queen and how dare a man speak to her that way; the part that reminded her she was friends with the gods themselves- told her to prove him wrong.

"Where are you going?"

The question was surprised as she stood- she had never interfered with her parent's arguments before, instead just keeping her head down as she let them work through it. Now they both just stared at her as she picked her way out of their circle, stepping over Lila and their cat, stopping only long enough to grab her bag before she was out the door.

Out the door and running, right towards town, her mother's voice fading into the night as she left to prove him wrong.

The tavern was still full she reached it- not a surprise, really. Most people would have just finished eating dinner, and most often came to wet their throats and have a good laugh after a long, hard day's work. It was still early enough that no one was too drunk, that she didn't have to fear from that lot, even if she was sure she'd be able to beat them (her body might have returned to being soft, but her mind was still that of a warrior's), and almost every chair still full when she opened the door and walked inside.

"Go home, girl," the tavern owner growled when he glanced up to see who had entered his establishment. He knew her, she could see, his eyes lighting up with recognition, even if he didn't know her name. "This is no place for someone like you at this hour. Go home, or come back with your father to keep you safe." Expecting her to obey, he returned to cleaning his counter, wiping a grimy rag over a patch of spilled stew before it could soak into the wood.

"I can protect myself." His hand paused at the conviction in her words, and he looked up at her again, this time giving her more than a moment of his attention. Pointing towards a large bowl Gabrielle could see behind him, she nodded towards the front of the room, where a small stage lay empty. It was rare for performers to arrive in little Potediea, but still one was always there, just in case. "I'm a bard, and I bet you I can fill that bowl before the end of the night."

It was clear the man wanted to laugh, that he thought her delusional, but still he reached behind him and grabbed the bowl, emptying the grapes it had held into another and wiping it clean. He held it out in one hand, his other offered as well. "If you fail, you come work for me this winter. For free. Deal?"

The way he spoke made it clear he thought he was going to win, and would get another pair of hands to help out without having to spend a single extra dinar. Smiling widely, Gabrielle took the bowl and shook his hand, and went to stand before the room.

And found herself frozen as she tried to find a story to tell.

All of the stories she had were of Xena- of the good she had done, of the evil she had once partaken in, of the way she had made the world turn and bow before her. For years now, Xena had been her muse, her inspiration, the source of her stories- even in the other world, in the fake world Ceasar had created, Xena had still been her everything, even if Gabrielle hadn't known it. So what stories did she have now? She had the old legends, the old myths everyone here would have grown up knowing, but nothing good enough to actually fill the giant bowl now sitting before her.

For a moment she panicked, because how could she tell a story that didn't exist? A story from the future, a future that was still to be seen?

But only for a moment. Because this was a dream, she reminded herself, and who cared if a group of peasants from Potediea knew about the future in a dream? What did it matter to them, or to the gods, if soon this world would come to an end? But just to be safe...

Looking out at the crowd, many of whom had taken to ignoring her, muttering about their hopes getting up and being disappointed at the lack of entertainment, Gabrielle met the tavern owner's smug gaze and spoke.

"I sing of Nea," Gabrielle called to the crowd, stomping her foot three time to gain their attention, "the fiercest warrior in the land, and how she saved a soul from a fate worse than death- marriage to a god."

They were enthralled, captivated as Gabrielle described the kidnapping by the priests, the advice 'Nea' had given to her young companion, the mental battles the warrior had had to face in order to save her friend. Not a single word was spoke as Gabrielle told her tale, not a single person moved as they watched as Gabrielle's hands acted out the performance before them. Not a single breathe was drawn as she explained the slowly moving panel behind the young woman and the man before her with a sword, forcing her to choose either between killing him or her own death.

For a long while, as Gabrielle stood there, staring out into the silence, nothing happened. No one spoke, no one moved- it seemed as if the tavern had been frozen in time.

Until one little voice, a traveling merchant's child, sandwiched between its parents, asked for another.  

With that little voice, the room erupted into applause, dozens of handfuls of dinars falling into her bowl, everyone begging for another, for something else to entertain them as they whittled away the night. Gabrielle promised, after she had had something to drink, and before she could order a handful of people started calling for the owner to bring her some water, some wine, some ale, whatever she wanted to drink. Just for him to be quick, so the next story could begin.

She took a cider, expecting the owner to be belligerent - most men were, when they lost a bet they had been sure they would win. But instead he just stared down at the almost filled bowl and quietly offered her his stage any night she wanted.

Considering it was common that performers left at least a portion of what they made to the owner of the venue where they performed, tonight would mean a hefty sum in both of their purses, something both of them could benefit from.

She told two more stories that night- her own play from that other world, shifted a bit for only one performer instead of a full cast, adding in an extra fight scene to appease the critics, and the story with Diana (artfully called Niada); the first drawing tears to their eyes, heartfelt sobs ripped from what seemed to be even the toughest of throats, and the second sending them howling with laughter, quite a few of the drunker members of the audience finding themselves on the floor as she spoke.

By the time the night had passed, the bowl would have had to be thrice as big to hold all of the dinars dumped at her feet, piles of them scattering around her as thankful patrons left their tips for her tales before stumbling off to home. Some of the travelers tried to proposition her- there was always room in a caravan for such an accomplished storyteller. But Gabrielle just shook her head and thanked them for their interest, making it clear that, after such a long night, she had to go home.

The owner only took a third of what she earned- less than the usual commission people demanded of her, Gabrielle noticed, but the overall sum was more than she usually made, especially since she and Xena had mainly stuck to the back roads, smaller villages. And she knew if she continued to perform here, the sum would never be quite as large again. She had gotten lucky, and a couple of merchant caravans had arrived the day before, giving her a large audience with deep pockets to spin her stories too. Still, even with his 'discount,' the owner was more than pleased, helping Gabrielle to scoop the rest of the dinars into her bag, enough to make it weigh heavily on her shoulder.

"You're Heradotus' kid, right," the man asked, walking with her towards the front door. Behind them, serving girls were helping the last of the drunks upright and up to bed, while a few others set about to cleaning up the room. "You're not walking home, not this late and with that much coin. Come on."

He didn't give her an option, really, and while Gabrielle knew she could take him and any who tried to bother her, she instead followed after him, and allowed herself to be hoisted onto the back of a large black horse after the tavern owner had finished saddling him. She was tired, and she trusted the man, at least to a point.

"Which one are you again?"

"Gabrielle."

"Well, Gabrielle, if you keep performing at my tavern, we're going to become the best of friends."

He rode the horse fast, passing drunks who hailed them, ending up at the farm far quicker than Gabrielle would have been able to make on foot. He even escorted her to the door, knocking and making sure she was in the thankful arms of her parents- though he gave her a particular look when Heradotus and Hecuba pulled her in, both of them almost crying from worry as they scolded her for disappearing for most of the night. It was right there before her parents that he offered for her to perform at the tavern again, saying clearly how good her stories were and how she had brought in nearly a week's worth of profit for him from that one night alone, before nodding his head and leaving for his own home and bed.

They almost started interrogating her, Hecuba and Heradotus demanding to know where she had gone, why she had run off like that, what had possessed her to do such a thing and worry them so, only to stop as Gabrielle dropped her bag onto the kitchen table, the dinars clanking merrily within.

She said her good nights, holding them both in a long hug before finally heading to bed, leaving her parents to stare into the sack at the pile of coins she had brought home. Giving Lila- already asleep- a kiss on her cheek, Gabrielle kicked off her shoes before sliding into bed, ready for this dream to finally end.

Only it didn't. She woke up the next morning, still in bed, as Hecuba shook her awake and asked her to come talk with her and her father.

It wasn't a long discussion, no. Gabrielle admitted that she had gone to the tavern, told stories there to show that her stories did have some value, and that had been the extent of her plan. She hadn't been planning on doing anything with the dinars (she hadn't expected to wake up again, for surely the world should have disintegrated by now); she had just wanted to show Heradotus that he was wrong.

She had, and while there wasn't enough money to pay for it now, if Gabrielle kept performing at the tavern, by next year there would be enough to send her to Athens for training.

Gabrielle, just confused by the fact she was still there, that the dream was continuing despite the fact it should have ended, despite the fact that her mind should have crumbled to dust as the universe was destroyed along with the loom, just agreed as eagerly as she could make herself sound. Because while it was a long while away, the idea of going to Athens was appealing, even if she was sure the dream would end long before she got there.

So she agreed, and while it wasn't every night, since she still had to help out around the farm, Gabrielle went to the tavern and told her tales, returning home with a pouch full of dinars to eventually get her to Athens.

It all passed in a daze, day after day sliding into the next, as Gabrielle tried to figure out what was going on. Because the longer the dream continued, the less she believed it truly was a dream. Because things were happening. Things she remembered, from when she lived through them the first time.

A neighbor's cow, previously healthy if old, sickened and died within just a few days. The first time it had taken them months to figure out why, but this time Gabrielle already knew. Knew that there was a little pond just beyond the farmer's land, where a fox had fallen in and drowned, polluting the water. The cow had slipped through a hole in the farmer's wall, drunk from the still pond, and had died from it.

A child got lost in the woods. The first time had taken them two days to find him, cold and hungry and almost delirious from thirst. This time she knew, and it only took her a few hours to find the cave he had crawled into after he had broken his leg climbing a tree. The parents had cried over her, asking the gods to bless her for bringing him home, when before they had done it over one of the other men in the village.

A woman gave birth, and this time Gabrielle knew it would be a girl, and she knew the woman would name her Gelda, and she knew all about that child. About the life she would live and the way she would grow up, about everything to come.

The more these happened, the more Gabrielle knew, the less she believed it was a dream. Because things were different, yes, things that she herself changed that were different from what she remembered. But that which she had no control over? That which she just barely remembered, and didn't know how to change? That stayed the same.

She couldn't believe that it was a dream, not anymore, not as the days and weeks and months passed. Not as she woke up and dressed herself, preparing for the day ahead. Not as she heard the screams, the excited yells coming from the village. Not as her father yelled at them to run, as she and the other women nearby ran towards the forest with men on their heels, trying to catch them.

Not as she stepped forward, just as she remembered, to offer herself to the men, and not as she stepped forward as well, demanding they fight her. Not as Xena, standing there in just her shift, just as Gabrielle remembered, fought the army and saved them all.

It couldn't be a dream, Gabrielle had realized and accepted that by now. If it wasn't a dream, then it had to be real, and if it was real, she had another chance.

Another chance with Xena, another chance to live a life with her, another chance to make things right.

Part of her wanted to tell her the truth, right then and there. To tell her that they were soulmates, to tell her that they were friends, lovers, that they meant everything in the world to each other. That when all else failed, they still had each other. Part of Gabrielle wanted to do nothing more than to pull her into a kiss, and make it clear what their future would hold.

But she restrained herself. She couldn't do that, even if she wanted to. Xena wasn't ready for some overwhelming confession of love from a stranger, even if that stranger could list every single secret Xena had kept from the world. Even if that stranger knew her better than she knew herself.

So, instead, Gabrielle followed what she remembered, and asked.

"Please, you have to take me with you."

She listed what traits she had- reading, writing, map reading, everything she could think of. She almost listed knowledge of what was to come, but stopped herself before she could; she knew the future, yes, knew what was to come, but things were going to change, if she had it her way. The world would be different, and she didn't know when the differences would come. So she held her tongue and instead begged Xena through every other way she had to please, take her with her.

And just like before, Xena said no. Her mother had made a comment about her going to Athens, Perdicas had tried to pull her away, despite their engagement being put off since she was going to school, and Xena told her no. Told her she had a life here, that it was dangerous, and that she wasn't taking her along.

It was a good thing Gabrielle already knew the way, avoiding the cyclops and hitching a ride with the first cart that came along. Only this time she was prepared- her bags packed with all the dinars she had made that would have been for Athens, easily carried foods that would actually last replacing the soft bread and fruits she had packed the last time, flint and steel and a small knife hidden away so she could survive alone if she had to. This time she knew, knew exactly what she was getting into, and Gabrielle went prepared.

It went exactly as she remembered it going- she caught up to Xena, stopped the people of Amphopolis from making the biggest mistake of their life, and Xena stopped Draco. She saved the town from his army, and when she left them, Gabrielle followed.

Followed her to her brother's grave, and made it known that Xena wasn't alone (she had wanted to say she'd never be alone, that as long as she lived, Xena would always have a friend, but perhaps that was too much, even for her). Followed her as she left the town, upset over her treatment by the people she had once called family. Followed her into the camp, pretending to need Xena's fire. She had the flint, had the know-how, but Xena just smiled and offered her the other side of the fire, and while Gabrielle itched to protest (in the first world, it had taken over a year for them to share the same side of the fire, but rarely had they separated after they had started), she had just settled into the furs without protest.

It was almost exactly as she remembered, exactly as it should be, and for now, for Gabrielle, that was enough. Things would change, she was sure of it- there were so many regrets she had, so many things that she needed to do to make sure their future was a little bit better, but for now, this was enough.

It was enough that Gabrielle remembered it all, and could change it as they went.

[ghosthunthq]

For: @books-tea-ghosts

By: @snavej

A massive thank you to @teaaddictedghosthunter for editing!

Day 1: Monday

“And everything is in her bag,” Lin finished and handed the large backpack to Oliver.

“We’ll be fine,” Gene insisted while bouncing the toddler on his hip. “Won’t we, Maggie?”

“Yes,” Maggie replied with a vigorous nod, causing her two ponytails to bounce on either side of her head.

Madoka leaned over and kissed her daughter.

“You behave for Gene and Noll, won’t you?” she asked in a gentle voice, caressing Maggie chubby cheek.

“Yes Mama!”

“Bye bye Maggie!”

The toddler’s parents waved as they left. Oliver rolled his eyes and shut the door behind them as he mumbled about letting the heat out.

“Bye bye!” Maggie echoed. She wriggled against Gene and ordered him to put her— “Down!”

Gene placed her on the floor where she wobbled for a second before taking off down the hallway.

“Oh jeesh!” Gene went haring after Maggie. He kept his hands outstretched, ready to catch the toddler at any moment.

Oliver, meanwhile, shrugged and followed at an idle pace. When he caught up with his twin and their charge, Maggie was opening and closing all of the kitchen cupboards that she could reach purely for the pleasure of looking inside them.

“Maggie, why don’t we go and do some drawing?” Gene suggested with an encouraging smile.

“No!”

Maggie had not turned to speak to Gene, but had continued searching the cupboards and drawers as Gene hovered over her, ready to protect her from whatever danger she may find.

“Or watch TV?”

“No!”

The toddler looked around and giggled at the look of frustration on Gene’s face.

“No!” Maggie repeated, clapping her hands together as a grin spread across her features.

“She takes after her mother, I see,” Oliver commented.

“Book!” Maggie tottered past Gene and grabbed onto Oliver’s trouser leg. “Book!”

“She wants you to read to her,” Gene guessed.

“I gathered,” Oliver replied before looking down at Maggie’s eager face. “I am not reading to you.”

“No! Book!”

Oliver rolled his eyes and glared at Gene, who was leaning against the counter and looking amused.

“I’ll read to you,” Gene said hastily, jumping away from the work surface.

“No.”

Maggie pouted at Gene and stuck her tongue out before returning to tugging on Oliver’s clothing. Gene swooped down and picked Maggie up.

“Come on, let’s leave Noll alone. I’ll read to you.”

Maggie’s pout grew as Gene carried her away from Oliver, who in turn began making a pot of tea. He flicked the kettle on and had just found a mug when his phone started ringing.

He answered it.

“Yes, Mai?”

“How’s it going? Have you killed Maggie yet?”

“She’s been here a total of four minutes,” Oliver deadpanned. “I have not done anything to her.”

“Is she okay? Have you made her cry yet?”

“Gene has taken charge of her,” Oliver said, “She has not cried—”

A sudden wail from the living room cut him off.

“What’s that? What did you do?” Mai’s frantic voice asked. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone to this damned conference.”

“Mai, that conference is important for your career. Gene and I will manage perfectly well. Now if you will excuse me, I need to find out what on earth the idiot did to make the child cry.”

Oliver hung up, somewhat offended that Mai thought he could not manage five minutes without killing a child. Especially when Gene was the one that upset the toddler.

Oliver abandoned his half-made tea and strode through to the living room.

“What did you do?”

“Maggie stubbed her toe,” Gene explained. He was holding Maggie close to his chest and shushing the toddler. However, when Maggie spotted Oliver, she wriggled free of his grip and latched, once again, onto Oliver’s trouser leg.

“Hug!” she demanded.

“No,” Oliver replied as he folded his arms across his chest.

“Hug now!” she repeated with a pouting frown.

“Noll, it won’t kill you,” Gene muttered.

Oliver glared first at Gene then down at the toddler. He sighed heavily when his stare had no effect on Maggie. He picked her up and held her at arm’s length. Maggie reached out for him, still pouting.

Oliver sighed again and drew her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled. Gene now took to pouting.

“What?” Oliver mouthed at him.

“Nothing,” he replied, looking away.

Oliver rolled his eyes and pulled Maggie off of him.

“Gene is going to read to you,” he told her as he placed her back on the floor.

Oliver missed the disappointed expression Maggie sent his way as he left the room. He was keen to escape before he could be roped into any more ridiculous activities. He returned to the kitchen, made his tea and headed to his room.

He opened his email account and found one addressed to him and Gene from Madoka and Lin. The subject line read ‘How to take care of a toddler.’

Oliver took a long gulp of tea and opened the attachment. His eyes scanned the document in front of him. It consisted of a daily routine, food plan, guides on how to wash a toddler as well as how to stimulate her during playtime.

Oliver yawned and closed the document. It was Monday today and Madoka and Lin would only be away until Friday. How hard could it be?

A shriek from downstairs reached Oliver’s ears. He drunk a little more of his tea, having expected Gene to deal with whatever the problem may be. Yet the shrieking continued.

Oliver finished his drink and headed towards the noise.

“What’s going on?” he asked his brother.

“She won’t stop crying!” Gene replied, flapping his hands about. “We were reading and then—”

Oliver glanced at the clock on the wall.

“She is tired,” he concluded. “The schedule Madoka sent indicated she has usually had a nap by now.”

“But we haven’t even sorted out her sleeping arrangements yet!”

“We’ll put her in Mai’s room,” Oliver said.

A sudden tug on his trousers caused him to look down. Maggie had latched onto him, yet again, and was now wiping her nose on him as she continued to bawl.

“I’ll do it,” Gene said, reaching forwards to pick her up. But as soon as his hands touched Maggie, her wailing increased twofold.

“I’ll do it,” Oliver corrected.

He picked Maggie up and imitated the shushing noises Gene had made earlier with as much fake empathy as he could muster. Maggie settled a little, her head resting on his shoulder. By the time he had reached Mai’s room, Maggie had fallen asleep.

He placed the toddler in Mai’s bed and tucked her in, leaving her to her nap. He crept out of the room to find Gene, who had relocated to the kitchen was reading the email Madoka and Lin had sent on his phone.

“We have, like, no toys.”

“There are a few in the bag,” Oliver countered.

“Yeah, but have you seen how much ‘playtime’ is on this schedule thing?” Gene asked.

“I briefly glanced at it.”

“This was such a bad idea.”

“Humans are surprisingly resilient creatures,” Oliver said. “She will survive a week with us.”

“You are relying on the resilience of the human species? Really?”

Oliver shrugged.

“I have some work to do,” he muttered. “Are you willing to cook for this evening?”

“Yeah,” Gene mumbled, mind clearly elsewhere, “Yeah, I’ll sort something out.”

Oliver nodded his appreciation and returned to his room. He worked in peace and quiet for almost two hours, an unexpected bonus considering their new house guest.

Gene’s muffled voice roused Oliver from his state of concentration. He could not quite make out what his brother was saying, but from the tone of his voice, he knew Gene was annoyed.

He exited his bedroom to find Gene’s bedroom door open.

“—not supposed to use that!”

A childish giggle told Oliver that Maggie had woken up.

“Give it here!”

Oliver entered Gene’s bedroom to find Maggie clutching at what he recognised as Gene’s stage makeup. Although Gene had not been part of the local Amateur Dramatics group for a few years, he religiously maintained his stage makeup collection, just in case it was needed.

Maggie, however, was oblivious to this and thus had used the various powders, lipsticks and creams as facepaint. She had given herself surprisingly symmetrical red panda eyes. The rest of her skin had been coloured a sickly green colour and a lot of what Oliver recognised as foundation had been used to ‘style’ her hair.

He smirked at the distraught look on Gene’s face.

“Noll. Can you clean her up while I salvage what I can?”

“Of course,” Oliver replied, turning to Maggie. “Come on.”

Maggie giggled again and clapped her hands before holding them out to Oliver, who sighed and picked her up. He kept her at arm’s length until they reached the bathroom.

After putting the toilet seat lid down, Oliver sat Maggie on the lid and set the water running in the sink. After a minute, when the water had warmed up, Oliver grabbed a clean flannel and wetted it before wiping the mess off of Maggie’s face with as much care as he could be bothered with.

“There,” he said finally.

Maggie’s face had reddened from his scrubbing, but she had not cried and so Oliver saw this as a success.

“Hungry!” Maggie declared as she wriggled to the floor. “Foo now!”

Oliver followed her from the bathroom to the stairs, where Maggie bum shuffled down them. Impressed with her ability to get around, despite being a little unsteady, Oliver continued after Maggie until they reached the kitchen.

They found Gene stirring a pan and scowling. Oliver could hear him muttering under his breath as he did so. But knowing his words were likely to be about his ruined makeup collection, Oliver made no effort to induce a conversation.

“Food is almost ready, lay the table.”

Oliver nodded. He reached down and picked Maggie up. He sat her in a chair and quickly realised they would have a problem. Her head just reached the height of the main table.

“Can’t see!”

Maggie obviously saw the problem too.

“Wait there, I will set the table.”

“Can’t see!” Maggie repeated, reaching up and banging the bit of table closest to her head.

“I know,” Oliver repeated. His hands worked at setting place mats and cutlery for three, while his eyes remained on Maggie. The toddler appeared content making a racket.

“Noll, she can’t use metal cutlery!” Gene admonished. “There were plastic ones in that bag.”

“Keep an eye on her while I get them.”

When Oliver returned, Maggie had stood up on the chair so that she could see the table. She had taken the liberty of rearranging the cutlery that she could reach so that the knives and forks formed crosses.

Oliver replaced Maggie’s cutlery with the plastic spork and straightened the other sets.

“No!” Maggie threatened tears at Oliver ruining her hard work. But a crisis was averted by the arrival of the food.

“You gave her as much as an adult,” Oliver accused.

Gene sighed, but did not respond to Oliver’s comment.

“Eat up, Maggie,” Gene encouraged as he sat.

The twins began eating, not realising for a few minutes that Maggie was struggling to eat herself.

She began to make displeased whining sounds, gaining the attention of both young men. Oliver immediately slid her place closer and cut up her food into smaller mouthfuls.

“There. Eat.”

Maggie tried again. When Gene finished his own food, he took her spork and fed her with the aid of a few imaginary planes and choo choo trains.

After Maggie had eaten some food — neither twin was entirely sure if the quantity was enough — Oliver sat Maggie down in front of his laptop and streamed some children’s show for her to watch.

They were midway through the washing up when Maggie tottered into the kitchen.

“Where Mama?”

“On holiday,” Oliver replied as he dried one of the plates.

“Where holiday?” Maggie stressed each syllable of the last word.

“Paris.”

Maggie’s frown grew.

“Where Mama?” she repeated, her perturbed state of mind evident. “Where Dada?”

Gene dried his hands and bent down to Maggie’s level.

“They’re not here right now. We’re looking after you,” he said in a soft voice.

Maggie’s bottom lip wobbled dangerously. Gene’s face morphed from worry to sheer panic.

“Maggie,” he said hastily, “It’s ok—”

She bawled. Noisy tears streamed down her face as she plonked down to the floor and covered her face with her chubby little hands.

“I don’t know what you expected,” Oliver muttered. “She was bound to get upset about her parents leaving at some point.”

“But they talked to her about it,” Gene replied.

Oliver raised an eyebrow at his twin.

“I thought I was supposed to be the idiotic insensitive one.”

Gene’s mouth fell open, insulted. Oliver put away the final piece of kitchenware and picked up Maggie, who latched her arms around his neck again.

“Mama,” she moaned into his neck.

“She’ll be back soon,” Oliver insisted. “Let’s go and watch something while we wait.”

Gene gaped after Oliver.

“Who are you and what did you do with my brother?”

Unseen by Gene, Oliver rolled his eyes. He settled Maggie back in front of his laptop, but Maggie would not release his arm. So Oliver sat down beside the toddler and read while Maggie watched some ridiculous cartoon.

When he joined them, Gene pouted at the lavish attention Maggie was giving his brother, but did not say anything for fear of making Maggie cry again.

“Where is she going to sleep?” he asked in a soft voice some time later.

Oliver shrugged.

“Mai’s room?”

Gene nodded, not having a better suggestion.

Some time later, once Maggie had fallen asleep watching cartoons, Oliver relocated her to Mai’s bed again.

They had survived the first day.

[pamphletstoinspire]

MARY’S INNOCENCE IS THE HELP OF SINNERS

There is nothing more touching in the Gospel than the way God treats his reconciled enemies — that is, converted sinners. He is not content to wipe away the stain of their sins. It is easy for his infinite goodness to prevent our sins from hurting us; he also wants them to profit us. He bring forth so much good from them that we are constrained to bless our faults and to cry out with the Church, “O happy fault! O felix culpa!” His graces struggle against our sins for the mastery, and it pleases him, as St. Paul said, that his “grace abound” in excess of our malice (cf. Rom. 5:20).

Moreover, he receives reconciled sinners with so much love that the most perfect innocence would seem to have grounds for complaint, or at least for jealousy. One of his sheep wanders off, and all those who remain seem much less dear to him than the one gone astray; his mercy is more tender toward the prodigal son than toward the elder brother who had always been faithful.

If this is the case, then should we say that repentant sinners are more worthy than those who have not sinned, or justice reestablished is preferable to innocence preserved? No, we must not doubt that innocence is always best.

Although we appreciate health more when it is newly restored, we do not fail to value a strong constitution over the benefit of returning health. And although it is true that our hearts are moved by the unlooked-for gift of a fine day in winter, we do not fail to prefer the constant clemency of a milder season. So, if we may regard the Savior’s sentiments through a human lens, he may more tenderly caress newly converted sinners — his new conquests — but he loves the just with greater ardor, for they are his old friends.

Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is holiness itself, and although he is pleased to see at his feet the sinner who has returned to the path of righteousness, he nevertheless loves with a stronger love the innocent one who has never strayed. The innocent one approaches nearer to him and imitates him more perfectly, and so he honors him with a closer familiarity. However much beauty his eyes may see in the tears of a penitent, it can never equal the chaste attraction of an ever-faithful holiness. These are the sentiments of Jesus according to his divine nature, but he took on other ones for the love of us when he became our Savior. God prefers the innocent, but, let us rejoice: the merciful Savior came to seek out the guilty. He lives only for sinners, because it is to sinners that he was sent.

Listen to how he explains his mission: “I came not to call the righteous” (Matt. 9:13), because, even though they may be the most worthy of my affection, my commission does not extend to them. As Savior, I must seek those who are lost; as Physician, those who are ill; as Redeemer, those who are captives. In this, he is like a physician: as a man, he is more pleased to live among the healthy, but as a physician he prefers to care for the sick. And so this good Doctor, as Son of God prefers the innocent, but as Savior seeks out the guilty. Here is the mystery illuminated by a holy and evangelical doctrine. It is full of consolation for sinners such as we are, but it also honors the holy and perpetual innocence of Mary.

For if it is true that the Son of God loves innocence so well, could it be that he would find none at all upon the earth? Shall he not have the satisfaction of seeing someone like unto himself, or who at least approaches his purity from afar? Must Jesus, the Innocent One, be always among sinners, without ever having the consolation of meeting an unstained soul? And who would that be, if not his holy Mother? Yes, let this merciful Savior, who has taken upon himself all of our guilt, spend his life running after sinners; let him go and seek them in every corner of Palestine; but let him find in his own home and under his own roof what will satisfy his eyes with the steady and lasting beauty of incorruptible holiness!

It is true that this charitable Savior does not cast off sinners, and far from sending them away from his presence, he does not disdain to call them the most honored members of his kingdom. He set the leadership of his flock in the hands of Peter, who denied him; he placed at the head of his Evangelists Matthew, who was a tax collector; he made the first of his preachers Paul, who had persecuted him. These are not innocent men; these are converted sinners whom he raised to the highest ranks. Yet you should not therefore believe that he would choose his holy Mother from the same lot. There must be a great difference between her and the others. What will that difference be?

He chose Peter, Matthew, and Paul for us, but he chose Mary for himself. For us: “whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas . . . all are yours” (cf. 1 Cor. 3:22); for himself: “My beloved is mine,” and I am hers (cf. Song of Sol. 2:16). Those whom he called for others, he drew forth from sin, so that they might the better proclaim his mercy. His plan was to give hope to those souls beaten down by sin. Who could more effectively preach divine mercy than those who were themselves its illustrious examples? Who else could have said with greater effect, “The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,” than a St. Paul, who was able to add, “[a]nd I am the foremost of sinners” (1 Tim. 1:15)?

Yet if he treated in this way those whom he called for the sake of us sinners, we must not think that he did the same for the dear creature, the extraordinary creature, the unique and privileged creature whom he made for himself, whom he chose to be his Mother. In his apostles and ministers, he brought about what would be most useful for the salvation of all, but in his holy Mother, he did what was sweetest, most glorious, and most satisfying for himself, and, consequently, he made Mary to be innocent. “My beloved is mine,” and I am hers. The gift of innocence could not be distributed with prodigality among fallen men, but it is no excess for him to give it to his Mother, and it would have been ungenerous to have withheld it.

No, my Savior will not do that. We see already shining forth from the newborn Mary the innocence of Jesus Christ, as a crown upon her head. Let us honor this new ray that her Son has caused to break forth upon her. “[T]he night is far gone, the day is at hand” (Rom. 13:12). Jesus will soon bring about that day by his blessed presence. O happy day, O cloudless day, O day that the innocence of the divine Jesus will make so serene and pure: when will you come to light up the world? He comes; let us rejoice. You already see the dawn breaking in the birth of the holy Virgin. Let us run with joy to see the first light of this new day. We will see shining the sweet light of an unstained purity.

We must not persuade ourselves that to distinguish Mary from Jesus we must take away her innocence and leave it to her Son alone. To tell the morning from midday, there is no need to fill the air with storms or cover the sky with clouds: it suffices that the rays of the morn­ing sun should be weaker and their light less brilliant. To distinguish Mary from Jesus, there is no need to put sin into the mix. It suffices that her innocence be a weaker light. That light belongs to Jesus by right, but to Mary by privilege; to Jesus by nature, to Mary by grace and fa­vor. We honor the source in Jesus, and in Mary a flowing forth from the source. What should console us is that this flowing forth of innocence shines for the benefit of us poor sinners. Innocence normally reproaches the guilty for their evil lives and seems to pronounce condemnation upon them. Yet it is not so with Mary. Her innocence is favorable to us. And why? Because it is only a flowing forth of the innocence of the Savior Jesus. The innocence of Jesus is the life and salvation of sinners, and so the innocence of the Blessed Virgin serves to obtain pardon for sinners. Let us look upon this holy and innocent creature as the sure support for our misery and go and wash our sins in the bright light of her incorruptible purity.

Written by: CHARLIE MCKINNEY