#i will also accept a Fine Red Mist approach to it

[red-shepherds]

The best we can hope for, really, is that Palamedes exploded clean. The Good Death is a concept very absent in The Locked Tomb, and for good reason--what can a good death be, if rest is unreachable, if use is inevitable? Still, though, and not for his sake, I want thanergetic fission to have left a good, dry assortment of bones. It's one thing for Camilla to have assembled his skull piece by piece--it's quite another if she had to discard the remains of his brilliant brain to do it.

[mystra-midnight]

— THE BEAST OF LONELINESS IN ME | chapter i

geralt of rivia x witch ! ofc ( lunaria )

tags: brief mention of canon character death (yennefer).

w/c: 2k.

a/n: I want to start by saying thank you to everyone who has left comments and reblogged my story. Your support is greatly appreciated. I also want to say that I don't follow a strict posting schedule. However, hearing from you is always motivating, so if you're eager for more, please consider leaving a comment. <3 <3

It had started to rain, he noticed with bitter amusement. When he and Jaskier had first approached the noble estate, the weather had been calm — a light drizzle that misted in the air — whereas now, hours later, it had grown into a torrential downpour. Geralt could hear each droplet hit the roof and slide down the walls, only to break against the stonework walkways. He imagined how they would fill the cracks in the cobblestone until they overflowed like raging rivers.

He heard this above the din of conversations: the shouting and the laughter, the chorus of terrible jokes and false pleasantries. He heard it even above the symphony of music. Jaskier's voice was as lovely as always, carrying out across the crowd and painting tales of adventure, love, and betrayal. But it did not captivate him as it once had.

As lovely as the bard sounded, Geralt did not wish to remain in the ballroom and listen. He preferred to be out in the rain, feeling it against his skin and the muddy earth shifting beneath his boots. He found comfort in the wilderness and peace in the harshness of nature — he had since Yennefer's death.

Geralt could no longer stand idleness. He hated being stationary for too long, but the sweet honey wine lingering on his tongue and sliding down his throat was a welcomed change from the stale ale of inns. So he remained at the celebrations, standing against a wall, hidden in the shadows of the flickering sconces.

He was content there, alone, with a glass of wine to keep him company. Still, as the evening wore on, he noticed that Jaskier had disappeared, no doubt bedding another nobleman's wife. And then he saw two guards enter the room. Geralt watched them scanning faces and moving through the crowd before they made strides towards him.

Hanging at their hips were finely crafted steel blades within ornate scabbards. Emblazoned on their armour were the twin swords and holy flames of House Varsund, and cloaks of silver and gold were draped from their shoulders. Geralt regarded them with a narrowed stare.

"Lady Loriana has requested your presence, Witcher."

The words were not a request but a command, and Geralt made no attempt to hide the rolling of his amber eyes. He entertained the notion of declining, yet, he understood that his invitation to this soiree, which he'd only accepted at Jaskier's insistence, was not made to be polite.

Nothing was ever as simple as it appeared on the surface; he had played this game too often to be caught unaware. Geralt sucked in a breath only to let out a long, suffering sigh. "Then, by all means." He motioned for them to lead the way, leaving those gathered to gawk and stare.

The walk from the ballroom to a smaller, more intimate sitting room was short. Still, the drag of formal attire, worn once again at Jaskier's insistence, was uncomfortable. He longed to feel rough leather against his skin, to have the weight of his swords upon his back, to feel Roach breathing beneath him again.

After being escorted into the room, the door was locked shut, and the two guards took positions on either side, staring inward with stoic expressions. The room was lavish, decorated with blood-red drapery and marble floors that echoed his approach. Across the room, a woman sat on a low stool at a round table, atop of which were two glasses and a decanter of red wine.

She was exquisitely dressed, the fabric of her dress a deep royal blue — almost black. Her hair was the colour of sunlight and pulled into an intricate braid that fell down the length of her spine. She was beautiful; he thought her appearance was fitting for a noblewoman.

"Lady Loriana, I presume."

She turned to him and stared with sky-blue eyes rimmed red. Geralt inhaled, drawing the lingering scent of saltwater tears and the smell of the servants who'd come and gone throughout the evening.

"Lord Witcher, thank you for coming."

Her voice trembled with emotion, the sound of tears listing her words, but she smiled at him, warm and inviting, and motioned for him to sit opposite her. Even seated, he could tell she was tall for a woman, her figure slightly plump from age and childbirth but no less pleasing. She spoke with grace, gratitude, and a hint of sorrow.

"What is it that you think I can do for you?"

"Straight to the point, I see," she answered with dry amusement. "I respect that. Come, sit with me; we can have wine while we speak." He lowered himself into the stool opposite her, watching as she poured the wine with steady hands. He found it somewhat amusing. Many noble lords and ladies saw themselves above servicing their peers, instead relying on servants to pour their wine and prepare their food.

He wondered if the words on her tongue made her act this way. From the way she watched the wine pool in the glass', he knew that the words could not be easy to say. Geralt waited, sensing that she needed time. He could entertain her for a few minutes, he supposed.

"My son is dying," she explained. The words poured from her without warning, wrenched from the depths of her chest and dumped onto the table between them before she could compose herself. "It will be a painful death. He will suffer."

Her voice had an ache, a quiver that would have shaken an ordinary man. As it was, he felt very little and only stared at her, unmoved. "I have spoken to many healers, and each has told me he cannot be saved."

"And what is it you want of me?"

"I want you to save him." The request seemed simple, but it was certainly not.

"I am not a healer."

Her laugh was bitter-sweet as she turned her gaze from him, instead finding something fascinating on the wall to stare at as tears danced in her eyes. He could smell them, saltwater waiting to fall. "No, you're not, Lord Witcher, but I know of one who might be able to save him. Or at least make his passing a peaceful one. A medicine woman. If he cannot be saved, I wish to spare him more pain. Unfortunately, none of the men I have hired have been able to track this woman down. And so he continues to suffer."

"And what is it you want of me?" He repeated.

"You are a Witcher — a hunter of terrible, fearsome monsters. Surely you could find this woman for me?"

With a soft exhale, he set down his glass and moved to stand. "I am afraid I cannot help you," he said. Lady Loriana grabbed him, her small fingers encircling his wrist and holding it tight. His amber eyes narrowed at her, and his vocal cords vibrated in a deep growl, a warning.

"Lord Witcher, please. I beg you, listen before you make judgements and decisions."

"Fine," he replied, his voice hinting at annoyance. Geralt settled back into his chair. He took a moment to reach for the decanter on the table and poured more into his glass, filling it almost to the brim. He swirled the liquid, watching it catch the dim light of the candles, then took a slow, deliberate sip.

His sharp and calculating eyes were fixed on her. He leaned back, the weight of his presence filling the room, and waited for the woman to continue. The silence stretched, heavy and pregnant, broken only by the distant crackle of the hearth fire. "Tell me about this woman," Geralt prompted.

"In truth, I know very little about her, only what was told to me by Hajlmar An Craite," she explained, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "My husband and I were in Skellige to make a trade. I want to consider Clan An Craite to be friends, though that may have changed over the years. Hjalmar spoke of a woman he knew, a medicine woman with a talent for herbs and healing.

"And how certain are you that Hjalmar was being truthful to you?" Geralt asked.

"I have never known Crach An Craite to be anything but upfront with those he dislikes and likes. Like father, like son, applied strongly to Hjalmar. I don't imagine he had any reason to be dishonest about something so important," Lady Loriana replied.

"So he told you about this medicine woman. Why would you need my help? Send your men to find her," Geralt suggested, leaning forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with a hint of intrigue.

Lady Loriana sighed deeply, her frustration palpable. "As I mentioned, no one has been able to. She is a recluse, and it would seem she trusted only Hjalmar with her whereabouts. He was going to arrange a meeting with her and an envoy I sent to Skellige, but he passed before this could occur. Hjalmar was the only link we had to her, and with his death, that link was severed. I've no way to locate this woman now. I know only that she is somewhere in Skellige, hidden away from the world."

Geralt leaned back in his chair, considering the noble woman's words. The flicker of a nearby candle cast dancing shadows across his face. "A fine story," he replied evenly, masking his growing curiosity. "But I am not interested in wild goose chases."

Her eyes bore into Geralt, desperation mingling with her frustration. "This isn't just a story, Witcher. This woman holds knowledge that could save lives. Hjalmar believed in her abilities. And I have no other options left."

Geralt's gaze shifted to the window, where the moonlight filtered through, casting a silvery glow on the window frame. He could feel the weight of her plea pressing on him. He knew this request would tug at his mind despite his outward disinterest. Skellige was a harsh and unforgiving land but also a place where mysteries thrived. And in truth, he enjoyed the people and their way of life.

"I do not expect you to work for free. I will pay you quite handsomely," she continued, sensing Geralt's hesitation and hoping to sway him. Geralt raised a brow, his sharp gaze prompting her to elaborate further. "I will pay you five hundred coins now and another five hundred when you return with her. My son's life hangs in the balance, and I want only to help him."

He studied the woman's face, seeing the genuine worry in her features. "It would not be a quick journey to Skellige and back. Are you so sure he will live long enough?" Geralt questioned, his voice steady and eyes unwavering.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, and he looked down at her clasped hands. "He might die either way," she admitted, a note of resignation creeping into her voice. This was a gambit of epic proportion, and there was no guarantee the medicine woman could help. "But I must try everything in my power to save him. This woman is our last hope."

Geralt remained silent for a long moment, taking a deliberate sip of wine as he considered the proposition. The taste was rich and dark, contrasting the bitter reality they discussed. He weighed the risks and the reward and took notice of the urgency in her eyes. Finally, he set the glass down and nodded once. "Alright," he agreed, his voice calm but resolute. "I will take on this task. But understand, my success is not guaranteed."

Lady Loriana’s eyes brightened with a flicker of hope, and she reached out to clasp Geralt's hand in gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Witcher. You have given us a chance." Geralt stood, making his intention to leave apparent.

"I will leave at first light. Make sure the payment is ready," he said. As he exited, she watched him go, a mixture of emotions swirling within her. Geralt knew this journey to Skellige would be arduous, but the desperation in her voice, and the mysterious nature of the medicine woman had struck a chord. With a final glance back, he disappeared into the rain.

—interested in being tagged in future chapters? send me a message!

[wdwmarveldisney]

Monster

Pack x fem!reader and slight Stiles x reader

Summary: Reader loses control of her powers during a panic attack and ends up accidentally barely hurting Stiles. She ends up seeing Stiles and Scott when being chased by the company she had escaped from.

Masterlist

A/N: So the reader has a mix of powers like Eleven and Wanda. I’m a massive Marvel fan and I just finished season one of Stranger Things and was in the mood to right so here you go. I’ll probably write one for marvel too.

Shouting.

Just breathe.

Screaming.

Just breathe. Just breathe. It would be okay, you'd be okay. Your nails dug into your palms piercing the skin but you were numb. You were trapped, as if you sat in the corner of a dark damp room as you curled into a ball and held back tears. It was like someone had thrown you into this dark, terrifying place and twisted the lock shut and no matter how loud you screamed or how hard you banged at the door, nobody came. Your breathing was uneven and your vision was blurring. The small, deep gasps of your breath sounded as if you were about to pass out. Your eyes were filled with such nervousness and almost fear that anybody who made eye contact would surely be greatly concerned for you. But nobody would make eye contact with you because they were too busy arguing. Shouting.

"She's dangerous! You saw what she did to the guy back there! She killed him Stiles!"

You didn't mean to, you didn't mean it. You thought back to everything, training and discipline and the rules, the punishments. The small cupboard where you were trapped whenever you'd mess up, the killing animals, the focusing your powers to stop people's hearts, snap their bones, empty their lungs. You didn't mean to kill him but he knew. He knew everything about how you were raised, what you had done, what you were forced to do. He knew the people you hurt, you killed. He was taunting you, messing with you. It had built up, like it was now, and a switch was flipped. You eyes glowed purple and suddenly his neck had snapped. But you didn't mean to.

"It was protection Scott! He was trying to kill her!"

"Stop it," you whispered, voice shaking but they couldn't hear you. Everything seemed to close in, slowly depriving the room of oxygen. You felt as if the four white walls were dragging themselves forward and surrounding you to the point were your body ached from the pressure of having to squeeze yourself close. You was quick to bury your face between your knees to try and drown out any colour, any shadows, any movement, any shout. "Stop, stop it. Please stop," You sobbed, shaking as you rocked slightly on the couch, the blood from your palms staining the knees of your jeans. You looked up, eyes flickering purple every now and then as they continued to shout.

"She murdered someone!"

"It was self defence!"

"He said she'd killed before, that she kill again! She can't be trusted!" Scott was right. You couldn't be trusted. You were dangerous and out of control and you were a monster. And now you were tearing apart the pack unintentionally. "Stop it, please, stop," You noticed Lydia look to you along with Kira and Liam. They seemed to know just how on edge you were, worry but also hesitance etched on their faces.

"We don't know that, we don't know who that guy was!" Stiles shouted and you shot up, hands faintly glowing the same shade of purple as your eyes. Tear marks stained your cheeks and your whole body shook in fear as the power coursed through your veins. Stiles and Scott still didn't notice, too engrossed in the argument to spare a glance. The rest of the pack, however, noticed. They backed up, trying to subtly get the boys' attention. But that didn't happen, they didn't stop. "Stiles, face the facts-"

"STOP!" You voice was distorted, hair flying back in the blast. A wave of purple mist hit the group, all of them stumbling back and a couple even falling over. Windows smashed, walls cracked, shelves tumbled, belongings falling everywhere. You fell, collapsing to the floor from where you had been floating inches off the ground. You shook slightly, looking round at the scared teenagers as you eyes flickered again. You breathing became uneven once more, a knot tightening and n your chest when you saw the blood dripping from Stiles' nose. With a sharp intake of breath, you fell back against the sofa and stared at your shaking hands in fear. You'd hurt him, how could you do that.

You couldn't be trusted.

You were hurting people.

Murderer. Monster.

"I'm sorry, I didn't- I don't- hurt you, I'm sorry," you stood slowly, watching them flinch in fear as you looked at them all. Stiles seemed to be the only one who wasn't terrified, quickly getting up and carefully walking towards you. "Hey, I'm fine. See," He wiped the blood from his nose only for more to fall. He went to take another step forward but you shook your head, backing away towards the door, "Don't. I didn't- please don't. I'm- monster, I'm sorry," the door had flung open, the purple mist from your hands, and now at the door, fading away as you stumbled out. You managed to get down the steps and onto the pavement when you heard the calls of your name from all of them. Knowing they were following, you spun round with your hands held out. The mist not only surrounded your fingertips but had made a small wall between you and them. One hand stayed aimed towards them whilst you looked around for some kind of car or transport and with a wave of your hand, a bike had flown over to you. Looking back to them, your eyes met Stiles' as you spoke, "Don't,"

Your hand fell as the wall disappeared and you wiped your bleeding nose as you hopped on the bike, starting down the road shakily.

-

Run. You just had to run. Either you run or they get you and you were not going to let them get you. In hindsight, running in the forest barefoot with your ripped and ragged clothes wasn't a good idea. You could feel twigs and thorns pierce your skin but you didn't stop. You cringed every time a leave crunched or a stick snapped but you didn't stop. You could hear their shouts in the distance and with one last quick glance over your shoulder, you saw the flash of a gun and sped up.

Reaching a road, you let the panic settle in as you watched them catch up. About to continue down the road, you heard the blue jeep before you saw it. Scott had opened the passenger door and heard to the back as he called for you, "Get in!" Looking at the guns that were aimed at not only you but the jeep too, you shook your head. Stiles got out of the jeep and began to make his way over to you, Scott just behind him. "Come on, we'll get shot!" Shaking your head again, you watched the soldiers surround you before watching one man step forward ever so slightly, Dr Smith. "Test subject 095, come in and these boys won't get harmed," you glared at him, eyes glowing purple as you got into more of a fighting stance. "Liar,"

He took another step forward, hand by the gun he had at his waist, "Come back peacefully, that's all we ask. I'm going to make you better again, you're sick," You didn't dare look to the boys next to you instead focusing on the approaching van they'd no doubt take you away in. You watched two more soldiers leave it and let the power freely surge through your veins. "Liar!" You screamed, hands moving fast as the soldiers' eyes flashed purple and they aimed their guns to the doctor now. He held his hands up in surrender as you marched forward. "Don't shoot me, I'm the only one who can make you better," With a shaky breath, you leaned forward and being able to see your glowing eyes reflected back to you didn't faze you. "Mercy," you growled, waving your hand to make the soldiers snap out of it and willingly leave. You knew none of them were in control when working for the company, all being forced to work there. You'd have to help at times, keep them under control that is.

The doctor's hand dropped and you waved your hand to cuff his hands. Nose scrunching at the feeling of the fear in your veins, you pushed it down to pick up a gun and press it against the man's back to force him into the van. You watched as he reached for his pocket as pull out the syringe and with a heavy sigh, you dropped the gun and took a couple of steps back, "No," You brought your hands up and watched as you lifted the van, making it fall onto his legs after tripping him up. He screamed as you turned, feeling the blood drip from your nose and ears, coming face to face with a shocked Stiles and Scott. "That was...awesome!"

You smiled sheepishly almost at Stiles' comment, glancing to a grinning Scott. The werewolf's expression fell as he met your eyes, "I'm sorry, I didn't realise and I was wrong. Can we be friends?" You nodded quickly, a grin taking over your face as you rushed over to the jeep, jumping into the back. Both boys climbed in too, watching as you moved your hands over your scratched feet and legs, the skin sewing itself together it seemed. You then reached up to wipe the blood from your nose on your already red stained wrist but Stiles passed you back a tissue with a quick worried smile. Nodding in thanks, you wiped your nose then you wiped the blood from your ears, glancing down to your ruined clothing. The jeep started up and you remained silent as you fiddled with your fingers.

"Sorry," you mumbled slightly and saw both boys look to you. Scott sighed and shook his head, "No, it was our fault," due to a pointed look from Stiles, Scott changed his words which made you smile, "My fault. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions and I'm sorry," you nodded in understanding before leaning forward to speak to Stiles, "I hurt you, sorry," the boy shook his head, sending you a gentle smile. You worried he wasn't going to accept your apology but he chuckled slightly, glancing to you, "I'm fine," he looked to your lips and with a small shrug, lent forward to peck them making you both grin like mad. Clearing your throat, you ignored the blush in your cheeks as you watched him smile widely as he faced the road. "Promise?"

"Promise,"

[vasiktomis]

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

[salmon-sushi]

woops | aobajohsai & fem!reader

summary: Iwaizumi’s day isn’t as bad as he thinks, especially with his friends.

genre: crack(?), just teenagers being teenagers, also platonic relationships!

words: 2.1k

a/n: this piece is largely inspired by @akasuns​‘s amazing manager!fic and i just couldn’t resist writing something for seijoh boys! thank you very much to @dokifluffs​ for giving me helpful advices and proofreading this! i hope you enjoy my first piece aha mwah 🥺🥺💕💕

index

The crispy cold, the mist-ridden foggy morning and the melodious whistle of the winter birds makes the winter morning most charming, in Iwaizumi’s honest opinion. Icicles glittering from barren tree branches in the sunrays, light reflecting off the icy ground and bringing crystalline joys to pedestrians such as himself as he walks to school. Nuzzling his face into his red woolen scarf, Iwaizumi huffs when the frozen air delicately nips on his nose. The warmth of his scarf makes him even drowsier than before and Iwaizumi allows himself to close his eyes for a little bit.

But this is clearly a mistake as he fails to notice the slippery surface of an unsuspecting puddle. He opens his eyes in shock, and he is falling. It suddenly feels like 10 years of his life are gone as he lays, groaning in pain on the wet stone pavement, his heart racing in his chest as his nose and forehead burn. It didn’t help that he is suddenly hyper aware of the people walking nearby him with their footsteps becoming audibly louder than before.

Is he embarrassed that he fell on his face? Yeah. But he’s glad that none of the other pedestrians are bothered to help him up. Sure, he heard some snickers and giggles here and there, but he doesn’t mind it, knowing that he isn’t going to meet any of those people after this.

At least, that’s what he thinks until he sees you, his club manager and classmate, looking at him with a worried face and ready to fret over him.

“Don’t come here! I can handle this alone!” he screams in his mind while giving you the sharpest glare he could muster, hoping that you would get the message.

However, you are already used to all of his glares. You ignore his scowl and run towards him with your hands already rummaging the inside of your bag for a tissue to help him wipe his wet face. Before Iwaizumi could warn you not to run, you suddenly feel your body shifting forward, your legs no longer supporting your body. To your horror, your bag’s contents are sent flying towards Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi cringes as your body drops with a thud, your heart pounding loudly against your chest and you can feel the adrenaline rush in your legs. He merely stares at you when you slowly lift your beet red face to meet his subtly panicked eyes as if to say, “See what happens when you don’t mind your own business?”

You can feel your cheeks grow warmer as you press your lips into a thin line. Covering them with your ice cold hands in an attempt to cool down, you stare back at him with teary eyes, “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan!”

Time feels much longer as you stare at each other, until the both of you pale when you hear two familiar voices approaching, discussing intensely about the latest episode of their favourite variety show that airs every weekend on the local television channel as the sound of their footsteps grow closer. “Out of all the people here, why is it always them?” Iwaizumi slams his face onto the ground, making you hiss, “Iwa-chan, stop it!”

“Oh? What do we have here?”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa stop their tracks when they find both you and the team’s ace sprawled on the wet pavement with your belongings scattered around Iwaizumi. What makes it worse is that the both of you didn’t make a move to get up and leave the place like normal people would.

This is embarrassing, Matsukawa thinks.

Hanamaki snickers as he takes out his phone to snap a picture of their manager and the ace’s shameful display in public. Hell, he will even make sure to take a picture of Iwaizumi’s red face. “Iwaizumi, nice fall!” he laughs as Iwaizumi groans into the pavement.

Matsukawa sees the threat lies underneath your glare as Hanamaki proceeds to make comments for you to look at the camera and decides that risking your wrath is not worth the fun, even if there would be no blackmail content as good as this. Wrapping his arm around Hanamaki’s shoulder, Matsukawa tries to drag his friend away from the scene, “We should leave them alone, Hanamaki.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving without blackmail material!” Hanamaki cackles, obviously enjoying himself.

While he is busy crouching to find a good angle to capture Iwaizumi’s faceplant on the wet pavement, his left leg suddenly spreads itself to the side and out of panic, he grabs Matsukawa with him.

Their impending fall, however, is cushioned as they land on top of Iwaizumi, who only whimpers in pain.

Widening their eyes in horror, they scurry away from the poor boy in the speed of light before flipping him over. “Shit!” Matsukawa curses, “Iwaizumi is as pale as a ghost!”

“Iwa-chan, no! Don’t give up just yet!” you shout before crawling to grab your heating pad next to Iwaizumi’s legs in order to give him some warmth. You can feel the jagged edges of the pavement scratching your knees, but nothing is worse compared to your friend’s likely death. In the corner of your eye, you could see Hanamaki grabbing Iwaizumi’s hands, rubbing them between his own as he sobs dramatically “You still have a lot more to live, man! Stay with us!”

Iwaizumi didn’t expect the situation to escalate so quickly.

Only a few moments ago, he was hoping for a quiet incident. Like, “Oh, you fell?” then the subject would be dropped and never be spoken again. A one time thing. Only now that he realises that he hoped too much, something he should fix soon. He should have known that he could never have a quiet incident, not when he has the three of you wailing and begging for him to survive.

I kinda want to crawl in a hole and die right now, he muses. His eyes catch several students from the basketball team laughing at the four of you and a group of girls whispering and giggling to each other. He sighs deeply, his whole chest heaving and he closes his eyes.

“Iwaizumi!” “Iwa-chan!” you scream with Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

Matsukawa’s body stiffens as he points a shaky finger at Hanamaki accusingly, “You killed him, bro.”

Hanamaki gasps, turning his face away from Matsukawa in disbelief while raising his hand defensively, “Stop it. Don’t say it, bro!”

You sit up, hands covering your mouth as you gape at Iwaizumi’s still body, “Iwa-chan..”

Matsukawa quickly brings a hand to your back, rubbing it silently in a comforting gesture while Hanamaki slams his fist on the pavement, before turning to Matsukawa with a crazed glint in his eyes. “Fine! But I’m not the only one at fault here,” he begins.

Matsukawa raises his eyebrows, feigning confusion, “What are you talking about, Hanamaki?” He tilts his head, “You’re the one who ended his life.”

Hanamaki growls, “Don’t play dumb with me! You’re just as guilty as I am! If anything-” his voice drops lower, “-you’re the one who ended his life.”

Gasping, you slap Matsukawa’s hand away, feeling betrayed by the boy you called friend. “[Name]-chan, listen–”

“Save it, Mattsun. I never thought you of all people would do this kind of thing,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear anything from Matsukawa. He grits his teeth before turning to Hanamaki, raising both of his hands. A sign of surrender. He looks at Hanamaki with regret in his eyes, sighing, “As expected from my best friend. You got me good, bro.”

Hanamaki kneels in front of Matsukawa, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. His eyes are suspiciously glassy, Matsukawa notes. Perhaps, Hanamaki is a good friend after all.

“Bro..”

Meanwhile, Iwaizumi is fed up with your impromptu drama session. He quickly sits up and readies himself to berate the three of you but the world has better plans to make Iwaizumi’s day worse when a couple of rings startling all of you back into reality. With you helping Iwaizumi up by supporting his slightly throbbing back, thanks to those two, he is not surprised to find Oikawa pedaling on a bike towards your group.

“My, my, what are you guys doing here on the floor?” 

Iwaizumi knows that Oikawa is purposely making his voice loud so everyone would watch their circus show- not that everyone hasn’t already seen the soap opera between you, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, but still!

In one tiny corner of Iwaizumi’s heart, he wishes something bad would befall to Oikawa, just because he is grating Iwaizumi’s already thin patience. He also conveniently forgets the old saying that goes, “Be careful what you wish for.”.

Oblivious, Oikawa continues in his airy voice, “I don’t know what you guys will do without me, your very reliable captain. Here, let me help!”

Oikawa clutches the brake of his bicycle and he raises a delicate eyebrow when the brake is not in effect. He clutches the brake harder and only then the realisation sets in- the brake is faulty. I should have walked to school instead, Oikawa smiles in acceptance before his bicycle crashes a bench at the pavement. His body feels very light as he is flung across his friends, seeing their shocked faces and mouths agape makes his heart pound wildly against his chest. Time seems to slow down when you’re falling, he muses. In the seconds it takes him to reach the ground, he knows that it is going to hurt.

His body drops with a loud thump, worrying the four of you. Hanamaki whistles slowly, “Oof, that’s gonna hurt.”

You quickly collect your belongings and shove them into your bag while Iwaizumi and Matsukawa help the poor captain up who might have damaged his pretty face, Hanamaki silently grabs Oikawa’s busted bicycle.

“Oikawa!” he looks at you with a dumb expression when you grab his face in panic, “What? What’s wrong, [Name]-chan?”

A trickle of warmth suddenly drips from his nose and the captain unknowingly sniffs it back. With a disgusted noise, Iwaizumi knocks the captain’s head, “Don’t do that, you idiot!”

Before Oikawa could complain about Iwaizumi’s brute force, you gently plug his nose with a tissue and give him more tissues for him to wipe his bloody hands once Matsukawa and Iwaizumi let him stand on his own. Although Oikawa’s injuries only consist of his bloody nose and hands, you’re pretty sure that he has more injuries on his legs- especially his knees. “I think you need to visit the nurse’s office, just to be sure.”

“Will you be taking care of me, [Name]-chan?” he asks, mustering his saddest face. You only give him an unimpressed look, “Nope, we have class. But, the nurse will take care of you, though.”

Unsatisfied with your answer, he whines and Iwaizumi is quick to knock his head again, which you proceed to scold the both of them, “Leave it, both of you!”

Matsukawa smirks, “It’s what you get for being a dumbass. Who told you to speed down the pavement?”

“I tried to slow down but the brake wouldn’t work!” Oikawa retorts.

“And who told you to not check your bike before using it during winter?” Hanamaki adds in with a grin. He and Matsukawa give each other a high five when Oikawa deflates, failing to come up with a comeback.

“Well– who told you guys to create a soap opera in the middle of the road, huh? I’m only acting as a caring captain would, like, stopping all of you from making a fool of yourselves!” Oikawa glares at his friends and looks at you for backup, which you look away guiltily, making him gasp in betrayal. “[Name]-chan!”

“Sure you are.” Iwaizumi replies, ending the conversation as the five of you continue the walk to school completely poker faced, as if you didn’t cause a scene earlier. Despite the embarrassing incident, Iwaizumi manages to look at the bright side of it. The soft wind gently caressing their cheeks, the red tinges on their noses and ears, which he is sure from the incident, and most of all, he grins into his scarf, the warmth and memory he made with his friends.

Extra:

Just before the gradual slope that leads to the crime scene, Kindaichi and Kunimi stand still as they witness their captain being knocked out from his bicycle. Wordlessly, Kunimi walks the other way to school, perking Kindaichi up.

“Oi, that route is farther to school.” Kindaichi informs his friend.

“Do I look like I want to join them down there?” Kunimi frowns as he jerks his head towards their senpais.

“I bet they’ll rope us in to save themselves from the embarrassment.” He waves his hand dismissively before turning to the other direction to school. Kindaichi looks back at his scrambling senpais before following his friend with no hesitation.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

heiress - 5

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: more parallels between wanda and reader plus hayward being a bitch to reader. also pierce did not die during the winter soldier events in this universe. at this point this is called wanda and y/n collectively grieving over her how shitty their lives are.

previous chapter

The young woman held a small gun in her left hand, shooting the target at least 10 metres away from her with a mechanical precision, switching it to her right hand and achieving the same type of perfection and precision not even senior agents had. Yet, there she was, one of the newest SWORD recruits. Many people had opposed for her to join SWORD straight after escaping from HYDRA and the Red Room; however, Tyler Hayward had forced for her to become a new recruit. “Having Alexander Pierce’s daughter in our team will be an asset” he said and it somehow convinced all of SWORDs panel to take her in. She had nowhere to go after all, the Red Room will be after her in no time and she had no way to defend herself alone and so SWORD was her only option. An option she thrived under, being much more advanced than any junior recruit yet it was a far cry from what she wanted. She didn’t want to be an agent but that’s what she was, what she had been trained to do.

The trainer slowly blinked walking up to her and giving her a congratulatory pat on the shoulder which everyone could sense was filled of jealousy. She was thrown to the back of the line with someone else who also inspired jealousy in most recruits. Monica Rambeau, daughter of Maria Rambeau, the current SWORD director. They had never spoken too much other than orientation day where they introduced each other by their agent number.

     - That was the coolest thing I’ve seen today. - she hide a childish smile as the next recruit started  his training. - I’m Monica. 

     - Y/N. - she smiled and shook her hand. - Is it always like this?

     - Most of time yeah. The trainers are dicks about it when you’re better than them. 

     - Men. - Y/N rolled her eyes, getting an understanding nod from Monica. 

     - Excuse me? - Tyler Hayward entered the trainee room, always dressed in a polished suit as if that would be of any worth in a fighting situation. - I’m sorry for disturbing but I need Ms. Y/N Pierce to accompany me. 

Y/N Pierce. She always hated that name, even more than her code name. The mere thought that she had that last name, the name of one of the leaders of SHIELD was almost like a cruel curse on her. Everyone seemed to think of him as this all around saint yet she knew better; after all, if he had no reservations about submitting his daughter as a project and asset then he would have no reservation in hurting anyone else. SWORD had done their best to keep her existence a secret, not really allowing the connection to pass through but she knew he was looking for her and if he wasn’t the Red Room and HYDRA definitely were. 

She shared a confused look with Monica before stepping towards Hayward who led her away from the room and into the hall. He didn’t stop to explain to her why she had been summoned, instead he just kept on walking and she took the lead to follow him, entering a blackened window filled hall. They stopped in front of a window which gave way into an autopsy scene. Y/N was used to seeing death, some would say she was born surrounding it; however, she was not prepared to see what was being shown to her. It was almost as if she were sleeping, her mother. Laid across the metal table with various doctors surrounding her, the HYDRA symbol branded onto her foot. She looked over to the side, hand over her mouth as she felt sick just to see it. 

    - Our intelligence believes HYDRA is trying to send a message and we don’t believe they won’t stop anytime soon.

    - Was it fast? Did she suffer?

    - Gunshot to the head. Quite merciful, really.

    - Why are you showing me this?

    - Well, HYDRA experimented on you but there is the possibility your “enhancements” might be genetic. 

    -  What is that supposed to mean? Why did you really brought me here, Hayward?

    - We need the next of kin’s permission to perform an autopsy and it seems that would be you, following your mother’s will.

    - No. - she stepped back. - You’re not gonna tear my mother apart for a stupid hypothesis. No. You don’t have my permission

    - We’re being kind enough to hide you from your father for no specific reason. You either accept it or we’ll be forced to hand you to SHIELD.

The night air was crisp and sharp as he sat on the swing next to hers. She hadn’t changed much other than her hair which was much longer but her face was still unblemished by the tragic unkindness of the world. After all it had been about 5 years since he last saw her and he hated the fact he had forgotten her. Somewhere, deep within himself he knew her mark was still there; he could still hear her voice in his dreams but he always chucked it to his mind crumbling under the pressure it had been under for so many years. Nevertheless, he had heard her voice plenty times, specially in Bucharest. It had haunted him from nights and nights on end; “Promise?” “Yes”, turns out it wasn’t someone he had killed but someone he had forgotten. Her of all people. It had come back all to him after that woman gave him the file. Her name alone, her lips telling him her name. He remember telling himself he would not forget him as they prepared him to go back in the blender and he did. He forgot about her but looking at her everything came back to him; the good and the bad. But the most of it was he remembered loving her, he still did, a feeling that had been dormant for a long while and suddenly awoke in him. Of course Bucky did not expect her to love him back, he didn’t blame her either. She was a good kid, too good even. 

     - Uhm ... are you enjoying it here? - she motioned her hands abstractly. - In the hex, I mean. 

     - It’s better than in hideouts with Sam and Sharon. - he chuckled dryly, looking up at the transparent yet red tinted dome. - I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Sam is great, despite everything and Sharon ... Sharon has helped me so much, I owe her that.

     - Oh ... - her heart dropped to her stomach as an ugly feeling took over her. Sure, Wanda would say it’s jealousy but she refused to admit it. 

     - What about you? I never really asked what you did after ... you know, IT. 

    - You can say the name. - she smiled at him yet it was voidless of any emotion, as if she were used to people tip toeing around the subject which they always did. - I became a junior recruit for SWORD until the blip then ... I was gone for a while but it didn’t hurt. It was almost like I was finally at peace and then I woke up and Hayward was director. He sent me and Monica to investigate the hex Wanda created, mostly to keep his own project a bay. Then we all ran off, got classified as fugitives. The rest is really not important. 

     - I don’t really think I need to tell you what I’ve been up to.

     - You don’t ... most of it it’s my fault, anyway. - she got up from the swing once she noticed a purple light a few miles away from the limits of the hex. The back of her eyes started growing instinctively white. Bucky got up as he recognised her fighting stance, a hand safely placed upon her shoulder. - Go grab Wanda.

     - Y/N ...

     - Go grab her, now. - she stood there watching the purple light almost call out for her. Bucky chose to do what she said, the white mist involving around her fingers as she stepped towards the hex, fingers barely touching the wall. 

Bucky rushed inside the building, hoping to reach Wanda before Y/N could do anything irrational. However, before he could find the newly named Scarlet Witch, she found him with one of her twins behind her waist. Her eyes were glowing red, almost similar to those Y/N had except those eyes looked desperate, worried even.

    - Where is she? - she asked him with an ice like directness. - Where is she, Barnes?

    - Outside. She told me to come get you.

Wanda rushed past him with a speed that he had never seen before and he only followed after her. The two stepped outside the building, towards the swing tree where Bucky had left Y/N, except, she wasn’t there anymore. No, he couldn’t lose her. Not again. Vision came after the two followed by Yelena and Monica who had been awakened by the twins; however, Wanda did not need their help. She approached the hex, just missing the purple glow as it entered the woods. Bucky tried to step up but Vision pushed him back. 

    - Y/N? - Wanda broke through the hex, shutting Bucky out as well as Vision. It was night time, dark and cold surrounded by the woods of the place they had chosen to hide from the world. Breaking dawn was so far away and even the tallest individual would’ve melted into the dark night. - Y/N!

   - Are we not going to help them? - Bucky questioned back inside the hex, probably the most awake apart from the synthezoid and the former Red Room graduate.

   - It’s a witch thing. - Yelena smirked before springing into action. - We should activate the hex’s protective system in case something happens.

   - What about them? - Bucky once again interrupted, not receiving particularly kind looks from Yelena.

   - They’ll be fine, Mr. Barnes.

Y/N on the other hand walked further into the confused and dark woods, holding her small trusted silver revolver which reflected the moon light onto its surface; yet most of the light came from behind her coloured eyes. She did not know exactly why they did that, it was almost as if they light up whenever she felt threatened. Whatever it was, it was there inside of her. She, of course, knew it was Agatha lingering around; however, she never got dangerously close to the hex. It was an unspoken truth between the witch and Wanda Maximoff yet there she was. 

     - God, dear, I thought I’d have to break into the hex to get to you. - Agatha showed up from the darkness, dressed in her typical black and purple palette as if she were royalty. - So, how are you deary? Still playing Queen Elsa? Is that fun for you?

     - You’re trespassing. 

     - Come on, is that how you thank me for giving you Bucky Barnes on a platter? What else do you need to thank me? A love spell?

     - Go away, Agatha. What do you want? 

     - I am trying to help you, just like I helped Wanda. I mean how old are you, sweetheart? Old enough for HYDRA and SWORD to realise you can do much more than just magic tricks. Making a whole room objects disappear? Now that, that was impressive. If I knew you were gonna do that, I would’ve brought Barnes into your life much much sooner. - she crossed her arms. - I think you and I are very similar. Much more similar than Maximoff to be completely honest. Where were the avengers when your father handed you over to a terrorist organisation? Constantly overlooked, underestimated, seen as nothing but your father’s daughter. I understand, Y/N and I can help you if you let me help you.   

    - I ... - she faltered her response, slightly lowering down her gun. - You can really help me?

    - I know more about magic than everyone else, Y/N. I can train you, I can help you more than SWORD or Wanda Maximoff will ever help. I can even give you what you want the most. Barnes, a regular family, everything but a SHIELD recruit. A regular citizen and all I want is for you to give me my regular family. 

     - I can’t help you, Agatha.

     - I don’t mean to cause any harm, Y/N. I’m not the villain, I just want my husband back and only you can give that to me. That’s all I want. It’s a small price to pay for your happiness. I can even take it away, your powers, I can take them away and then you will have what you want. Pretty sure Barnes still has some swimmers and if he doesn’t surely Wanda can get you some kids, she sure did well with getting herself some. 

     - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice broke through the two woman’s conversation. Agatha smirked, purple eyes replacing her regular blue ones. - Y/N!

     - I think you need to make a choice, dear. 

taglist: @lookiamtrying

[boyduroy]

Shave and A Haircut

Fandom: It (2017/2019)

Characters: Bill, Richie, Eddie, Stanley

Word count: 2,044

Genre: slice of life, hurt/comfort

Warnings: language, mentions of bullying

Synopsis: Just another day of being bullied by Bowers. Luckily Richie knows what to do.

{Not beta’d/proofread, sorry for any typos}

Bill, Eddie, and Richie are all sitting at the Tozier dining room table, waiting for the fourth member of their party to arrive. Their geometry homework is spread out across the wooden table, most of it unsolved, along with an array of snacks, most of which have already been devoured. Bill looks at the old clock on the wall as Richie and Eddie bicker over who gets the last of the barbeque-flavored potato chips. Stanley should have been done with baseball practice 30 minutes ago, and it doesn’t usually take him this long to bike to Richie’s house. Bill briefly considers riding up to the baseball field to check on him when a knock comes from the front door.

“About time,” Richie mutters, quickly swiping the final few chips from Eddie’s hand as he gets up to answer the door.

“Richie, you turd!” Eddie screams as

“Y’snooze, you lose, skeddi-boy,” Richie calls back to the dining room with a mouthful of chips. He rubs his hands on the edge of his shirt as he reaches for the door handle. He doesn’t remember locking it, and Stan knows he can let himself in, but Richie figures his friend is just being his usual polite self.

“Stan the man,” he announces loudly, swinging the door open. “Where’ve you been? You know we suck at math…”

Richie trails off as he takes in the sight of Stanley on his front porch. The other boy’s head is hung, defeated, and his baseball cap covers his face completely. Still, Richie can see the faint outlines of tear tracks running from Stan’s chin. His knuckles are paper white as they clutch his gym bag, and aside from the usual dirt stains on his uniform, he doesn’t look too roughed up in any apparent way.

“Stanley?” Richie asks, tilting his head to peek up under the baseball cap. Stan’s face is red from either crying or from exercise, or possibly a combination of the two. “What’s wrong?”

Stan sniffs, his dark brown eyes refusing to meet Richie’s. “May I come in please,” he asks, his voice a bit raw.

Richie pulls him inside, taking his gym bag from him. “Go sit down on the couch, I’ll grab you a glass of water.” As Stanley quietly kicks his cleats off near the front door, Richie races to the kitchen, tosses the bag down haphazardly, and grabs a clean glass from the cupboard. Any other day he would’ve just grabbed one of the dirty ones from the sink, which would’ve earned him an earful from both Stan and Eddie about how gross that was – “I drank from it earlier, so why should it matter?” – but right now was not the time to instigate. As he fills the glass from the kitchen sink, Eddie and Bill poke their heads in.

“What’s going on, Rich?” Eddie asks. “You drop something?”

Richie hurries back to the living room, trying not to spill the glass that he accidentally filled up with too much water. “Something happened to Stan,” he calls over his shoulder. “Come on, he’s in here.”

“What h-happened?!” Bill asks worriedly, he and Eddie hot on Richie’s heels as the three of them come to gather around Stan, now sitting stiffly on the edge of the couch. Richie offers him the glass, which spills a little onto the couch cushion, but Stanley accepts it and takes a drink. Eddie perches next to him, his hand on Stan’s shoulder, and subconsciously starts checking his friend for any signs of outward injury.

“You alright, Stanley?” Eddie asks. Stan swallows the water eagerly and gasps, handing the now half-full glass back to Richie. He nods but continues to look down, his face still obscured by his baseball cap.

“What happened?” Bill asks again.

“Bowers and his gang…” Stanley answers quietly. He suddenly shrinks into himself, unwilling to reveal any further information. “I can’t, it’s embarrassing.”

Bill kneels, putting a gentle hand on Stan’s knee. “It’s okay, you can tell us. W-why don’t you take off your h-hat so we can hear you better.”

“I can’t.”

“Huh?” Bill blinks, confused.

“I can’t take it off,” Stan repeats.

Richie smirks. “Don’t worry about your hat hair, Stanley, we’ve all been ther—”

“No.” Stan sniffles and looks up finally, his brown eyes swimming with tears. “I can’t take off my hat, Richie, because Henry Bowers and his asshole friends put krazy glue in it,” he enunciates sharply. “My hat. Is glued. To my head.”

The three of them stare stunned at their friend, whose head falls back down sadly. Bill can feel his own face growing hot with anger. Fucking Bowers… It was one of the cruelest pranks you could do to someone: paint the inner brim of their hat with krazy glue and just wait for them to put it on.

Eddie is the first to break the silence. “Oh Stanley,” he whispers, his own eyes threatening to mist. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” He rubs Stanley’s shoulder and looks to the other two. “What should we do, guys?”

Bill strides towards the door. “I’m guh-gonna got kick the sh-sh-shit out of Bowers,” he says matter-of-factly. Stan is on his feet in an instant.

“Please no, Bill! Don’t, he’ll do something worse to you,” Stanley yells, grabbing Bill’s shirt. Bill tries to shake him off as he opens the front door. “Please, it’s okay—”

“It’s not okay, Stan! He hurt you!”

Stan hardens. “Fine, I know, it’s not okay. It fucking sucks. But I don’t want you to get hurt fighting my battles for me! Bowers is going to get what’s coming to him eventually, but I don’t want you or anyone else getting hurt today.” He loosens his grip and sighs, rubbing his face. “Just… leave it alone, okay? For now, at least. Please?”

Bill huffs but eventually closes the door again.

“Fine,” he says, resting a hand on the offending baseball cap on Stan’s head. “But we still need to figure out what we’re g-going to do about th-this.”

“You’re gonna have to cut it off, I guess,” Richie offers.

Stan frowns. “No, I can’t. It’ll look so stupid.” He tries gently tugging the cap, but it doesn’t budge. “There’s got to be another way.”

Eddie approaches and carefully inspects where the hat and Stan’s hair are connected. “He really did a number,” he admits. “It’s stuck to your scalp in some places.”

Stanley groans. “Great,” he sighs.

“It’s just hair, it’ll grow back,” Richie insists. “My dad has some clippers in his bathroom, we can take care of it right now.”

Stanley shakes his head. “I especially don’t want to shave my whole head, Richie!”

“Why not? It’s just hair.”

“It’s my hair!” Stan argues. “Excuse me if I don’t want to look like Sinead O’Connor the rest of the school year!”

“It’ll grow back, Stanley!”

“I don’t care!”

“Oh my god, you are so sensitive,” Richie grumbles as he marches off and slams his parents’ bedroom door. Bill is about to suggest something when they hear the telltale buzz of an electric razor. The three of them are frozen in place.

“He wouldn’t,” Eddie says, looking wide-eyed at the other two.

They stumble past one another as they race to the bedroom and Bill pounds on the bathroom door. “Richie, what are you doing?!” he yells over the loud buzz of the razor. He tries the doorknob but it’s locked.

“Hey dumbass, you proved your point,” Eddie shouts at the door. “Cut it out, you’re freaking us out!”

Finally, after a few more bangs on the wood and jiggling the doorknob, does the buzzer click off and the door swing open. Richie stands there proudly, glasses off, clippers in hand, and with a freshly (and poorly) buzzed head.

“See? I told you it’s not a big deal, you wuss,” he says, gesturing to himself. The other three just stare at him in utter shock until Stan finally sputters.

“Richie, you… you--” Stanley says, then dips his head down into his hands, his shoulders beginning to shake. Richie frowns, worried for a minute that he’s crying again, but then Stanley tosses his head back and he’s laughing so uproariously. “You idiot! What the hell is wrong with you,” he asks through gasps.

The tension broken, Bill and Eddie also begin to laugh while Richie just smiles stupidly.

“You missed like so many spots, dude,” Eddie snickers. “Geez Richie, were you even trying?”

“Hey, I had to take my glasses off,” Richie protests. He tosses the razor to Bill and points to the back of his head, where tufts of black hair remained in messy patches. “Mind cleaning me up, Bill?”

Bill smirks and gets to work shaving off the rest of Richie’s hair. He actually didn’t do too bad of a job, just missed a few places here and there. At least he put a guard on it so he wasn’t just freehanding it.

“There you go,” Bill says once he’s finished. He hands Richie back his glasses and dusts the loose hair off his shirt. Richie examines himself in the mirror, his hands running over the short buzzcut.

“Looks a hell of a lot better than Sinead, if I do say so myself,” Richie remarks, satisfied with his handiwork. He throws a look to the other boys and grabs a pair of mustache scissors, snipping them threateningly. “Your turn, Stanley.”

Stan shakes his head quickly. “Not from you, four-eyes.” He takes the scissors and hands them to Bill. “Please be gentle.”

Bill nods and carefully starts cutting away the worst of the glue/hat/hair combination until the hat is freed, along with a substantial amount of hair. Eddie throws it unceremoniously into the trashcan. Stanley shuts his eyes, not wanting to see how ridiculous he looks with half his hair missing. Then Bill methodically shaves away the rest of his golden curls and it’s over before he knows it.

“Okay, you can look, if y-you want to.”

Stanley peeks one eye open and looks in the mirror. His face looks back at him, now sporting the same crewcut as Richie. It’s… not as bad as he thought it would be.

“It’s different,” he admits, touching the short prickly hairs gingerly. His heart aches for just a moment. It sucks but Richie was right: it’s just hair, and it’ll grow back. He glances at Richie. “I think I pull it off better than you, at least.”

Richie feigns a wounded look, clutching his chest dramatically. “Hey, whoa, watch yourself there, Staniel! Don’t forget, you copied me. I started this trend.”

They all laugh at this, then Bill looks at himself in the mirror, shrugs, and buzzes a line right down the middle of his head. They watch with amazement as he gives himself a haircut to match, smiling the whole time. Afterwards he clicks the buzzer off and turns to his friends, offering another shrug.

“I wanted to f-fit in with the cool k-kids. This look is v-very in right now.”

Stanley beams and throws his arms around Bill and Richie. “You guys are so dumb, but thank you,” he says. The three of them hug, then Richie looks mischievously at Eddie, who suddenly pales.

“Eds,” he states. “Snip, snip.”

Eddie glances between the three of them who now appear to be ganging up on him. He sighs and digs into his fanny pack. “My mom’s gonna think I joined a cult,” he mutters to himself. He pulls out his inhaler, takes a big puff, and looks to Bill. “Do it.”

Soon brunette hair joins the piles of auburn, blonde and black on the floor of Maggie and Wentworth’s bathroom. The boys take turns dusting each other off and inspecting one another for any missed spots, but Bill was careful and thorough and they all look good, if not a little bit off for the current fashion. Stanley felt grateful for his friends, idiots though they may be, for always making sure he was never alone in his suffering. They return to their long-forgotten snacks and homework, enjoying the pleasant company of one another – until the cry of “RICHARD TOZIER, WHAT IN GODS NAME HAVE YOU DONE TO YOURSELF” from Richie’s mom interrupted their time together.

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

Previous | AO3 | Next

___________

Chapter 7

Marinette returns to battle having merged Longg and Plagg. She confronts the Akuma, whose name is unknown, and invokes the power of the Lightning Dragon, the AT field is activated again, but manages to crack enough so that she, using the sword, pierces the shield (perhaps she used a bit magic to enhance the impact force). Chloe jumps behind her and the two fall on the Akuma, just then the chirp sounds again and more mist appears, this time surrounding them all.

They hear voices, they can't see anything and, although for some it's almost heartbreaking to hear, they can't be distracted. Paris depends on them, they may not all be useful at the time, but they never know what could happen.

"Cataclysm!"Marinette wastes no time and, accustomed to Talia's voice, does not stop from her main mission.

Soon, the bark cracks and begins to light up as it seems to expand... there is no butterfly anywhere.

By the time he realizes it, the crust has exploded, staining everything twenty kilometers away from a liquid that looks like blood.

And where the golden diamond was, now there is a kind of worm floating above the Luxembourg Palace.

____________

Just Robert @PoorButterflies

What the fuck?

#WTFParis

Ladybug come back @ LadybugHero_89

PEOPLE! THE ANGEL EXPLODED! It was quite a scene from NGE, will the heroes be okay?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

My sister sent me a video of the exact moment the Akuma exploded, how shocking.

[Attached Video]

#AngelInParis #WTFParis

_____________

Felix feels numb, the scarlet liquid completely covering them. The big problem is that due to the strong smell of metal, he knows it's blood, but that is only part of the matter, what makes him annoying is that it was hot and it's making him sick, not in the sense of feeling disgusted, it's as if the blood was poisonous.

"Guys?"He barely recognizes Luka's voice before falling to his knee as he tries to make his limbs listen to him.

It's a moment of stupor, but the next thing he registers is that a whiplash sends him and Red Fox flying from the building where he was (destroying the construction on the way). It crashes into one of the statues at the University of Paris, La Sorbonne, and then falls to the ground. Nathaniel suffers the same fate, but ends up knocking down the spire of the dome and falling to the other end, within the grounds of the university.

He feels stupid, if he had anticipated it, he could have put the shell on at least the two of them and not seem like a pathetic hero attempt. It feels like an amateur, it's a shame. How could anyone think it would explode?

"If it wasn't so terrible, I'd be excited to fight an angel. Luka, the second chance. "

Return.

Felix watches Marinette and Chloe jump over the Akuma when the AT field falls. At those times, communications sound.

"Kagami, go to Felix's side, now. Felix, put on a shell! The Akuma is going to explode. "Kagami obeys immediately trusting Luka's words, he must have used the second chance. As soon as the girl is by her side, he activate the shell, just in time.

"Cataclysm!"

And the Akuma, in effect, explodes bathing everything in a blood red liquid, inside the shell it's seen how it seems to boil and evaporate, but Felix notes that it considerably weakened the protection of his shield. If they had been hit directly by the liquid, it would have caused a lot of damage.

He look in the direction of the Akuma, there is no longer the rhombus, there are no signs of Chloe or Marinette either, but he doubts that they have exploded, perhaps they were only thrown away. Take note of the Akuma's new look and the interesting metal plate on what he imagines is the head. Not that he finds much shape in what looks like a giant silver-colored noodle, although he understands that it may be a worm.

"He will attack in your direction, separate."

Felix deactivates the shield and the three jump in different directions, just in time to avoid a whiplash from the Akuma's tail.

"Rakkīgāru, we will cover you. "Nathaniel speaks the moment he activates his power. "Mirage. "

Kagami pulls away a little, allowing the two boys to fight. Between the three of them they should be able to take down Akuma, correct?

"Lucky Charm!"  When activating her power, a tight suit with a very curious design falls into her hands, she has no idea how a suit would help them defeat the Akuma. What would Marinette do? She turns to battle, ready to cope. They must reach the alleged akumatized object.

"A suit? "Felix questions, looking at him curiously. Is it really a suit will give them victory?"

"It's a Plug suit... what? I didn't watch the series, but I do know about the suits because I wore them for inspiration. "Red Fox jumps as the illusion fades and the Akuma's tail slams in his direction. "Well, the illusions don't seem to work much. "

"Anything to mention about the suit?" Felix leaps at the worm and hurls the shield directly at the metal plate, only to find another AT field. "Really? "He growls annoyed when he sees his shield bounce off and it's lost in the sea of fog.

"Those suits have instruments for monitoring the health condition, and it also allows for increased synchronization with the Eva... which we don't have. "

"Well, let's be creative."What else can that suit do?"

"I think it can inflate, I saw that it looked round in an image of a red-haired girl."

Felix only listens to them without really understanding. The whole situation is simply disastrous.

____________

Héctor de Troya @EpicAdveturerHector

Hello? Can someone explain what is happening at the Luxembourg Palace? There is a giant worm!

Adrien A. @AdrienAgreste

We were arriving home from the airport when the police owed us to an Akuma shelter just as it explodes. Since when is the butterfly active?

Shinji @AllOrNothing_

@AdrienAgreste The new Hawkmoth seems to hate fashion, he almost didn't send his first Akuma at the opening of fashion week.

Just me @LonelyA_loveless

Apocalyptic scene, blood littered the entrance to the Akuma refuge in Saint-Sulpice. Let's hope the heroes finish quickly.

____________

Miraculously, as they talk about the properties of the suit while avoiding attacks and watch the Akuma destroy the Luxembourg Garden, they come up with a plan to traverse the new AT field. That includes distracting him with the blissful ball-shaped suit (they figured out how to turn it into that) while Ateliade uses her powers to drive the Akuma's powers insane, hopefully, being something so harmless, he doesn't consider it a threat, especially since monkey powers are not such a common knowledge.

Ateliade falls onto one of the shattered ceilings with her already summoned power, her evil smile only telling her that she's excited to join saving all of their butts. Normally the strategies are made by Marinette, but the Akuma had very specific abilities from a very specific program that only Pegase had seen.

However, this has given them a much clearer idea that this new butterfly user is much more committed to destroying them. In addition to their victims not shouting that they want the prodigies, they seem willing to tear them apart and then take the jewelry. If Felix is honest with himself, he only talks a lot about how his uncle like villain was so nefarious

If this works out, Felix will pay everyone's drinks and give Damian a Great Dane, all because he has no faith in the blissful plan, but it's the only thing they could think of where they could wear the suit.

Five minutes later, the suit by itself would have been a fiasco, but Nathaniel decides to use his power again (thus activating the timer) to simulate that the suit was one of them, that generated the perfect distraction for Ateliade to launch what it seems a plush bunny that, without being a real surprise, collides with the AT field, but, by the nature of the monkey's powers, it makes the shield go crazy.

Now, they have to really figure out how to get through that without being cut in half by the crazy AT field.

Atelaide is crazy enough to do it, using her stick to propel herself using the craziness of the shield. She manages to fall on the worm's head and, while he twists to get rid of she, she summons her power again (the previous one fell into the mist), this time it looks like a plush ball and only drops it.

This time the Akuma writhes, the butterfly mask appears as the worm crashes into the Luxembourg Palace. After several more movements and leaving the building reduced to heaps of rubble, a purple butterfly flutters out.

Felix takes that as a sign that as soon as everything is fixed he will order the best liqueurs and distribute them to everyone on the team. Now where can he get a Great Dane?

___________

Shinji @AllOrNothing_

He threw a stuffed animal at him and the AT field went crazy! What the hell with her powers? It's great!

#EpicVictory

Rayn @TheGreatestWorld

Oh lord, bless the Lord. The cure was launched.

Ladybug come back @ LadybugHero_89

Everything is fine, the heroes are leaving. I don't blame them, they managed to defeat the Akuma who was a fucking Angel from Evangelion. Have you seen the series? Not? Whatever, fucking Akuma.

____________

Luka is not feeling well, not until Marinette is on the MT and the first thing he does is hug her. He also hugs Chloe, although the blonde is more reluctant to accept the show of affection. Knowing they were left in the bloody blast twice, leaves him messed up.

"We are fine, thanks to you." Marinette smiles at her best friend, Luka became her support and, when she decided to form the MT, she already knew that she wanted him back in the team with Kagami. They were the first ones he sought out and began to explain the plan.

"Mother." Damian approaches her, is not wearing the mask and has removed his gloves. He's confused, he woke up a few moments ago, but until he heard voices he didn't move.

"Damian!" He's not prepared for the strong hug in which his mother catches him, but he accepts it stunned. All the others leave the room immediately, especially when they see that the child seems about to break.

Damian leans against her after overcoming his initial surprise, letting her hug him as much as she wants. He closes his eyes and just lets himself feel strange when he perceives his face getting wet. She releases him, but keeps him by the shoulders; she also sheds a few tears.

Marinette was aware that the cure would heal him, but seeing him barely alive was shocking, worse still when she heard Talia's voice again.

"I'm happy that you're fine." She smiles and wipes the tears that are running down her son's cheeks. This time, he embraces her again and leans against her to take him in her arms, h'es no longer of age, but he doesn't want to get away to her.

"Let's go home, mother."

"We will, I just have to talk to Felix." She adjusts him in her arms, adjusting him to look for Felix.

She doesn't have to walk much, Félix is returning to the room. They both had the same idea, he smirks.

"It seems that we resume activities tomorrow, may I suggest you take one of the computers of here? That way you don't have to come every day, you can focus on your work. "

"Marc to stay in charge of communications while the others divide the work. I trust you… And thank you, Felix. ���She places a hand on his shoulder and then goes looking for Max to return them home.

Felix only sees her disappear down the hall making a little eye contact with the boy, noting the disturbance in his eyes.

__________________

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

Two Akuma in one week, do you want a medal, butterfly gross?

Marc @MarcAC_twt

Can Hideaki Anno please sue our villain?

Alix @TheLostHeroBunnix

@MarcAC_twt He must take responsibility for art theft!

Marie @MarieLenoir

I hope everyone caught up in the fog will be encouraged to receive mental health care, anyone who comes to @AgapeClinicParis will have a free consultation and if you decide to follow regular sessions I will pay for the first three months.

Polaris Vermilion @Elgato_Solaris

Did you see Paris will soon be @MarieLenoir. Trembles @BruceWayneOfficial, you have competition!

Dick Grayson @TheFlyingGrayson

Who is @MarieLenoir and why is she mentioned so much with B?

Tim Drake @TimDrakeW_

@TheFlyingGrayson You damn heathen, how can you not know when I mention she three times a day?

Dick Grayson @TheFlyingGrayson

@TimDrakeW_ Isn't what you mention Lady Black?

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@TheFlyingGrayson @TimDrakeW_ She's the owner. Marie Lenoir, Oliver has two of his exclusive outfits. He says they mention them a lot together because last year she adopted a nine-year-old boy and racks up philanthropic projects at the same rate as Bruce.

Tim Drake @TimDrakeW_

@TheFlyingGrayson @RoyHarperQ And she has black hair and blue eyes, I wouldn't be surprised if the kid had any of those characteristics.

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@TheFlyingGrayson @TimDrakeW_ Rumors say that his eyes are green.

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@TheFlyingGrayson @TimDrakeW_ @RoyHarperQ Gossipers.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 31

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1992

Warnings: None

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man.  When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood.  While others expect Thor to make things more official.  What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note:  Written with @fanficwriter013​

The Bonding

I stood waiting at the door to the throne room with Clarke.  My heart was beating in my throat.  I could hear the crowd through the door, and it did not sound small.  Pietro and Riley held my hands as I stared at the door, waiting for the signal to come through.

“You ready?”  Clarke asked.

I swallowed thickly and nodded.  “Sounds like a lot of people.”

Clarke shrugged.  “He’s the king.”

Music sounded up and the crowd hushed.  I took a deep breath and the doors were pulled open.  Clarke went through the door first and I followed after her, holding Riley and Pietro’s hands.  The music playing was more of a loud fanfare than a wedding processional and it drowned out most of the other sound.  Which was impressive really, because there were thousands of people there.  The throne room had been opened up in a way I wasn’t aware was possible.  The walls at the end and curving around to the sides had been opened up and the crowd flowed down and outside.  I couldn’t see an end to the people.

Because of that, I had actually entered the throne room from the side and so a path had been cut through the crowd made by rows of guards dressed in identical gold armor.  Clarke and I followed it around to the center of the huge space.  The huge winged throne sat shimmering at the end of the aisle ahead of us and on the top of the stairs.  In front of it stood Thor with an old man wearing deep purple and gold robes.  The man had a long beard that reached his naval and was braided with gold thread.

Thor wore a long pale blue jacket that was fastened to his neck with large silver buttons.   Around his waist sat a loose belt in black and silver and there was a cape attached to his shoulders with silver buttons that matched those on the jacket.  The cape was a similar material to my dress, but closer to satin.  It shimmered with a color to represent all of us.  Red, blue, green, purple, black and gold.

I couldn’t see the others yet, but as we began to walk down the center aisle the music changed.  It became more processional in feel and softer.  It set off the crowd and they roared with excitement.  Clapping their hands and stomping their feet.  Pietro panicked and started trying to scale me.  I picked him up and it set the crowd who were closer to us off into louder applause.  People called out to us like they were trying to grab our attention.  Riley was loving it.  She waved at people when she heard her name, and she waved at Thor up on the platform.  When we finally caught sight of the others she began to wiggle with excitement, skipping her way up the aisle toward them.

The men were all wearing similar cuts of jacket.  Each was long and high-necked, though each was unique to them.  Clint’s was pale lavender with an asymmetric breast that buttoned from his shoulder to his diagonally opposite hip.  The fabric was embossed, but with what, I couldn’t tell from where I was.

Sam wore dark grey, with plum embossing.  It was intricate, but even from as far back as I was I could tell there were birds amongst the scrollwork.  Rather than buttons, there were large ornate clasps in silver that attached on both sides of the join.

Bruce was in deep indigo.  The buttons were hidden and it was relatively free of embellishments but around his neck, he wore a loose scarf in a dark shimmering green that was tucked into a wide black belt around his waist.

Tony’s was dark red with ornate gold embossing.  Unlike any of the others, it had wide lapels and was double-breasted, with large gold buttons running up both breasts.

Bucky wore dark blue with silver threaded through it.  He had similar clasps as Sam and the shoulders on his suit were wedged so they protruded out further than the sleeves.

Finally, Steve was in something closely resembling Thor’s.  However, his suit was a blue that sat between Bucky’s and Thors with silver embossing.  He had a cape buttoned on his shoulders of a dark red.

With them walked their chosen attendant.  Each dressed in clothing that was a blend of beautiful garments and armor.  Scott walked ahead of Steve, Coulson with Clint, Rhodey with Sam, Hill with Natasha, Happy with Tony, Vision with Wanda, T’Challa with Bucky, and Jax with Bruce.

Riley sped up her gate to an almost trot and managed to reach Steve before the rest of us had.  She grabbed hold of his leg and he chuckled and took her hand, walking with her the rest of the way to the throne.  Pietro had predicted correctly.  Steve’s eyes glistened with tears, while Sam and Clint each had a few stray tears escape when they caught sight of everyone.  Tony was openly weeping as he looked from Bruce to me.  What Pietro hadn’t predicted was that Thor was also crying with joy.

When we reached the steps, Loki stepped forward and took Pietro from me, who quickly buried his face in his Aunt’s neck to hide from the crowd.  She went to take Riley from Steve but the little girl had already run directly to the throne and was trying to scale it.  Thor gave his sister a small shake of the head and flick of the wrist to let her know it was fine.  The people closest had all started laughing at their future ruler’s antics and a few people were pointing at her as she made herself comfortable.  Our friends went and stood to the side opposite Loki and the Warriors Three while the rest of our friends stood at the front of the steps.

The nine of us stood in a semi-circle around Thor and the High Priest, excitement, and nerves written on everyone’s features at varying levels.

The priest took a step up and Thor moved down to our level.  “Friends, loved ones, people of Asgard!”  The priest shouted, his voice amplified through the space.  “We gather here today in the house of our King and under the eyes of the gods to bear witness to the joining of these people.  This large group who, despite the odds in the grand universe, have found each other, and whose souls are destined to be linked.  We are but small creatures in the vast universe, but to travel through it with such love is a blessing.”

He turned his attention to the ten of us standing in front of him.  “Our lovers stand here, humbled before us and ask that the universe recognize their joint destiny and bind them together to it but first they must make the vows with an open heart and clear mind.  These vows are unbreakable and must not be made lightly.”

We all looked at each other and then back to the high priest and Thor gave a nod.

“Do you stand before me, the gods and your citizens to commit to a life shared together?  Do you promise to protect, love and cherish each other, each day, through the course of your lives?  To share in each other’s burdens and help bring down the barriers you put up at the low times?  To be open and honest with each other?  To care for each other and allow yourselves to be cared for?  To accept, love and nurture any children born of your union, regardless of biological connection within or outside the group?  To show patience with each other and your children.  To support each other and most of all to love each other through every challenge you face?  Do you vow it?”

There was not a single second of hesitation from any of us and when we spoke it was in chorus.  “I do.”

An attendant approached holding a long thick gold cord and a spool of silver thread.  They guided us to stand in a circle spaced evenly and we each placed our right hand on top of each other’s.  

He began to wind and crisscross the rope around our hands and as he did it seemed to crackle with electricity and a soft purple mist wound around our arms.  The attendant moved around us with the thread, binding our bodies, both individually and to each other.

“Do you promise to share in each other’s pain and seek to alleviate it?”  The high priest asked.

“We do,” we replied in unison.

“And so the binding is made,” he said as a rumble sounded in the sky above. “Do you promise to share in each other’s laughter and to look for the positive in each other?”

“We do.”

The sound of thunder was louder this time and was joined with a crack of lightning.  “And so the binding is made,” the priest said.  “Do you promise to share in each other’s burdens so that you can each grow together?”

“We do.”

“And so the binding is made.  Do you promise to share in each other’s dreams?”

“We do.”

“And so the binding is made.  Do you promise to take the heat of passion and use it to temper the strength of the union?  A union that will last thousands of years?”

“We do.”

Thunder crashed above us and rattled the foundations of the building, and everyone around looked up at the sky before breaking out into applause.  “And so the binding is made,” the high priest said.

We were now completely bound to each other.  Our hands tied by the thick gold rope, while a web had been created connecting us to each other with the silver thread.  The purple mist swirled around our arms and electricity danced off our skin.

“As your hands are bound together now, so your lives and spirits are joined in the union of love and trust.  This bond is not formed by these cords, but rather by the love you have for each other.  For always you hold in your own hands the fate of this union.  Above you are the stars and below you is stone.  Like stars, your love should be a constant source of light, and like stone, a firm foundation to build on.

“May these hands that hold each other be blessed this day.  May they always hold each other.  May they have the strength to hang on during storms of stress and the dark of disillusionment.  May they remain tender and gentle as they nurture each other in their wondrous love.  May they build a relationship founded in love, and rich in caring.  May these hands be healers, protectors, shelters, and guides for each other.  May they know when to hold a sword and when to hold a shield and always point the course you must follow.”

Another attendant came out holding a bottle.  “To receive this blessing in full and complete the bond, you must now take a spirit journey.  There you shall receive your gifts, that shall be handed to you from the Allfathers.  You must use them to find each other and return to us.  Trust your bond and in the gods to guide you to your true path,” he said as he moved around the group and held the bottle to each person’s lips.  They each drank in turn.  He came to me second to last and I took a sip.  It was bitter and medicinal and I swallowed it quickly.   He moved to Thor next and Thor drank what remained in the bottle.

The mist spread out around us, completely engulfing the group.  Our hands all seemed to tighten in the binds and I could almost feel everyone’s pulse racing as our visions were completely blinded in the purple haze.  There was a sudden flash of light and everything went white.

// NEXT

[katedrakeohd]

After the Rain

(Wacky Drabbles #51)

On a drizzly grey, February morning, Drake is in his closet picking out clothes for his morning workout. The renovations to the basement gym facilities were finally complete and he was anxious to try them out. The former Duchess of Valtoria had been an eccentric woman and an exotic animal collector. Along with her menagerie of wild animals she had also kept an alligator pool under the manor. Thankfully the gators had been relocated after one had tried to escape. After the old Duchess died, the pool was drained and that part of the building had been closed off for safety reasons.

Drake missed having access to the Royal Palace’s training gym and swimming pool and upon hearing about the available space under the manor he couldn't wait to make an exercise gym of their own. And with an indoor pool no less. Kate was sceptical that Drake could make the dudgeon-like, former reptile habitat into anything useful, and being pregnant she had other priorities. But she promised Drake that once the necessary baby proofing of the upper part of the manor was completed, he could pursue his own project.

Once Drake was dressed in his sweats and running shoes, he packed a towel, his bathing suit, extra t-shirt, shorts and phone into his duffel bag. He wasn't sure yet what kind of workout he was going to do, but wanted to keep his options open. On his way out of the closet with his bag, he hears the sound of a notification coming from his phone. He pulls it out of the pocket to check. It's a weather report:

⛈ Heavy rain, and possible thunder showers are expected in Valtorian County for the afternoon of Thursday, February 13th.

Drake frowns, knowing that Kate suffered from anxiety about thunderstorms. He decides to ask her if she wanted to come along with him, so she wouldn't be alone. Or if she wanted him to stay to keep her company. Turning the corner and walking into the bedroom, Drake finds Kate sitting up in bed with a nest of blankets all around her. To him she looked adorable with her hair piled up on her head in a messy bun, wearing his pyjama shirt with the long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She had a magazine open in front of her and was sipping a cup of tea. When he approaches the bed, she looks up with a smile, “Don't you look all sporty, off to wrestle some gators down in the dungeon?”

Drake laughs, setting his bag on the corner of the bed and leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. “It's hardly a dungeon anymore. Why don't you come with me and I can show you the improvements we've made?”

Kate carefully leans over to set her tea cup on the end table, trying not to tumble out of bed, her large belly made her top heavy. “I'll pass for now. Take some pictures of what our new gym looks like. I'm hoping it's more spa like, and less stone walls, chains and rocks for weight lifting.”

Drake shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips “Who do I look like to you, an orc from the depths of Mordor? I know we live in a stone house that looks medieval, but come on, I can accomplish something a lot more modern than that.”

Kate looks Drake up and down in his sweat pants, and t-shirt that accentuated the swell of his biceps and showed off his hairy forearms, thick wrists and strong hands. She knew how much he loved to show off the physical results of his daily workouts. He may have adopted the cushy life of a Duke, but he refused to let himself appear soft and weak because of it. Knowing this though, Kate can't help but tease him a little after his Lord of the Rings reference.

“Definitely not an orc, but with that shaggy hair and those big feet of yours you could pass for a tall hobbit.”

Drake snorts with a smirk, picking up his bag, “Just for that I'm not inviting you to spend Breakfast with me later.”

Kate giggles, “Not even second Breakfast?”

“Nope,” he attempts to frown but can't, raising his chin to hide a mischievous grin on his way to the door. He drops the act as Kate goes back to her magazine, “All goofing aside, it's going to rain all day and there's a chance of thunder. Are you going to be Ok if I'm not around once the rumbling starts?”

Kate smiles, her eyes shining with gratitude, “I'll be fine, thanks honey. Hana is coming over to keep me company, and have a girls day with me. If the thunder gets too loud I'll just use the noise canceling headphones you gave me. Go get all buff and sexy, and I'll see you later.”

Drake turns back from the door to crawl across the bed to give Kate another kiss before he leaves. When she leans into him, and wraps her arms around his neck, he reluctantly pulls back, whispering, “Or maybe I'll skip the workout and stay here.”

Kate smooths the hair back from his face and traces the shell of his ear with her fingers. She enjoys the way his eyes darken as he lifts his eyebrow and gazes back at her, accepting her touch as an invitation to stay. She playfully traces his bottom lip with her thumb, as he leans in for another kiss. He avoids her mouth and kisses the side of her neck instead, causing her to cringe and giggle at the tickling of his lips on her skin. “But Hana…” she squirms, as Drake works on unbuttoning her top.

Drake kicks off his shoes, pushing the magazines to the side, as he moves over to straddle Kate's knees. She places her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to push him back as he leans forward to press a kiss to her lips and lean her toward the headboard. He braces his hands on the headboard on either side of her head, and she shakes her head with a grin. “She's going to be here any minute.”

“I only need another minute…or two.” He chuckles, sitting back to finish unbuttoning her top. When her shirt falls open he grins at how her full breasts rest on top of her full belly. He leans in again and Kate sighs, dropping her hands to her sides. Expecting him to bury his face in her breasts, she's pleasantly surprised when he delicately cradles her belly and kisses it instead. “Baby needs kisses goodbye too.”

Kate strokes his hair as he places little butterfly kisses all over her belly, murmuring sweet nothings to the baby. “Daddy can't wait to meet you…Give me a little wiggle if you can hear me…hehe I felt that. Daddy loves you."

Happy tears mist Kate's eyes as Drake caresses gently with his thumbs and she feels their baby move. “Someone else is eager to meet Daddy.” she whispers.

There's a gentle knocking at the bedroom door, and Kate blinks, wiping at her eyes. “Time to go.” She smiles, laying her hand on Drake's cheek.

He sits up and gives Kate one last kiss before climbing off the bed, “I'll go let her in.”

Drake grabs his bag, and shoves his feet back into his shoes as the knocking comes again. “Coming,” he calls out.

Kate hears Drake and Hana exchange quiet “Good mornings,” and quickly pulls her shirt back together managing a couple of buttons. She sits back up in bed just in time to see Hana wheel a Breakfast trolley in with various sweet and savoury offerings, along with a pot of tea. On the bottom of the trolley is a basket of magazines, along with a basket of various beauty supplies for their Girls Day.

Drake quietly slips out the door with a wink to Kate, and then closes the door behind him.

“Good morning, Kate!” Hana bubbles with enthusiasm, as she leans in to give her a hug.

“Hi, sweety.” Kate answers, hugging her back.

Hana scampers over to pull a chair over to the side of the bed, to sit down. “Ready for Happy Friends Day?”

Kate frowns slightly and glances at the heart shaped cookies and red, white and pink themed items on the trolley. “Oh yeah, tomorrow is Valentine's Day. I can't believe you remembered to do all of this for us today.”

Kate couldn't believe she had forgotten that tomorrow was Valentine's Day. This was going to be their first Valentine's Day together, and she had totally forgotten a gift for Drake.

@julychoiceschallenge #Day14-Love

[superlativesamsara]

((So! This'll seem a bit dark and it's not for the faint of heart, but it'll probably make sense later maybe if I can fight my muse enough to actually write the later entries in this plotline idea! But! For the time being it will be more than sufficient to, if nothing, tease those of you who might be interested in plotting some more horror-y shit with Rose into maybe interacting. The contents of this post will be visible only to omniscient muses or those who possess a means of scrying past distortion wards or similar obstructions. I wanted to do this for Halloween, honestly, but I couldn't find the words, but the longest night will do, I suppose ;p

((CW: Black Magic, Rituals, Blood Sacrifice, Soul Magic, Death Magic, Execution, Blood Magic, Living Sacrifice, Artifact Creation, Possession

The winter solstice. The time of greatest darkness, but also one of the best times for Renewal, as it marks a turning point back towards the dominion of light. Perfect for that which you seek to perform, nay, have been quietly preparing to perform for many moons now. In a hidden basement dungeon accessible only by walking the proper Way through the twisting formless halls of your home, you have sequestered your sacrifices.

You originally intended to use seven, but you could not find enough named foes among the game constructs, and while you have some enmity with people beyond your universe's borders, they aren't just meaningless code snips given reality by your awareness of them, they are thinking beings capable of forming their own reality. They would only serve to pollute the magic anyhow. A properly formed hexagram will work almost as well as a heptagram for your purposes. It's a small enough change to be easily accounted for.

But now, in the approach of midnight on the eve of death's highest potency, though not the eve of the thinnest veil, the time has come to strike while the resonance is strongest, and create what you will require for the task you have set yourself. Before you lie your six sacrifices, arranged in miniature circles of binding around the primary array of your ritual, the spell binding each of them into a kneeling position with their arms outstretched towards their neighbors.

Sharthan the Cunning, lord of the imps, a cunning adversary known for bypassing defenses to strike directly in the most creative of ways. A fine foundation for the enchantment, easily turned to your own aims. You place the implement in the center of the array, and drive a spike of cold iron through the nape of his neck, to ensure the blood that flows to the ritual comes from the brain, to better harness the desired associations, and grant your craft a semblance of intelligence.

Hradi Blackstorm, Ogre King, the meanest and the mightiest of his vile race, able to sunder even the mightiest of fortifications with little more than his bare hands. For him, you slit the wrists, for it is the strength of arm you wish to channel, not the intent of the heart or the feeble mind behind.

Gareth The Atoner, renegade lich. Some sins can never be expunged, but this one volunteered, believing that if he cannot clear his sins in life, then at least he may in death serve to lessen the suffering of others. The blade you've set aside for him, of purest silver, buried itself neatly through both heart and phylactery alike, serving as a medium for his Essence to be conducted to that which you seek to create.

Serrun Snaketongue, Royal Dersite Scientist, responsible for creating the basilisks, and having adopted some of their features through illegal experimentation. By far the hardest of your sacrifices to obtain, but for him, a spike up through the jaw, for his venomous tongue and quick tactical wit would serve you well in this endeavor. The ritual is already well underway, and time is drawing short, the glow of the blood rite a dark, unwholesome red, magic warping and twisting as the energy builds. You must hurry.

Jarvus Belthorn, turncoat agent of Prospit, solely responsible for some of the greatest losses in the entire war thanks to passing bad intelligence to the white king. A forehead spike for him as well, to plunder his mind for strengths and weaknesses of all and sundry.

The ritual is beginning to grow unstable, but only one sacrifice remains, the most potent of all, and the second volunteer whose heart and soul will be claimed to bring about this great work. Aljari, a former temple guardian of Anubis, takes his blade to the heart by his own two hands, satisfied that he shall help bring an end to his former master, his willingly given contribution outshining even that of the lich thanks to his semi-divine nature.

The ritual swells with power, violent distortions in reality beginning to fracture outward from the center of the hexagram as your plurality, six strong this eve, continue to channel unperturbed, chanting the invocations and bindings with strong, unwavering voices in the True Tongue. Slowly, the distortions grow both stronger and more confined, twisting and folding as the sacrifices and their respective tools of bloodletting are rendered fluid and drawn into the center to meet the simple rod of meteoric iron that was your focus.

All at once, the unnatural twisting and wrenching of reality and even magic itself seems to fold in on itself and wink out, the light ceasing abruptly as a metallic object clatters against the floor with a sharp clang. You step forward and lift the object, inspecting its shape and design. Yes, the Thorn of Grimm, it shall be called, and you can feel the semi-sentient artifact accept its name, feel the bloodthirsty weapon hum with power in your hand before seeming to be calmed from within, the wisdom and good nature of the souls within helping to blunt the rage instilled from the other sacrifices. A black blade of purest Stygian Iron, a weapon made to siphon the Essence from a God and render them mortal, even if only temporarily... but first, it must be given time to settle, away from the light, and so you take it outside into the black mists and bury it in a remarkably well-tended graveyard, so it may soak in the soothing cloak of the eternal night's embrace until it has stabilized.

All of a sudden, a rush of clarity and sensation as your patron departs, leaving you confused at your suddenly being outside and rather exhausted from the effort involved in the performance of the ritual. Puzzled by the coat of blood on your hands, you return inside to wash them and elect to turn in early for bed tonight, unaware of the black high magic you were used to commit this longest night.

[magnoliasinbloom]

The Midwife - II

AO3 :: Previously

VIII

“Claire? Not Julia?” Mrs. Fitz was very confused. I was helping her make the bed in Jamie’s and my new room—our room as newlyweds.

“I do apologize, Mrs. Fitz. I did not know how the laird would receive me if he knew I was Jamie’s wife. His presumably dead wife, you recall.”

“Och, I do mind. The lad was beside himself wi’ grief.” Her eyes misted over. “He refused to eat, all he did was wander about the castle and help with the horses.” My heart tightened to hear it.

“I am terribly sorry about your granddaughter’s betrothal,” I mentioned cautiously.

Mrs. Fitz shrugged thoughtfully, arranging the pillows. “God kens I love Laoghaire, but… Dougal’s idea in making that match—nay, he needs a woman, not a girl. And Laoghaire will be a girl when she's fifty.”

I could understand what she meant. I hoped the girl would not be disappointed for long. I recounted my story for Mrs. Fitz: how my mother and I used to travel as healers, about my midwifing apprenticeship at l’Hôpital des Anges, Mother Hildegarde, and how Jamie and I met. She thought it terribly romantic that we were handfast, and that I had stayed behind to help the sisters through the epidemic.

As she left me to settle in, Mrs. Fitz turned at the door. “I do love the lad. I am glad he found you, dearie, in the end. Take care of each other.”

* * *

When Jamie and I stepped into the great hall for dinner the following night, we were the target of whispers and comments directed at us from all sides. News traveled fast in the castle; I could only imagine what was being said about me, Jamie’s wife, come back from the dead. I gripped Jamie’s arm tightly as he escorted us to our seats. He kept his head up high, meeting people’s stares with a frank gaze. We ate in companionable silence, and as soon as Jamie was done eating, I gestured for us to leave the hall.

We were near the side door when there was a commotion behind us. I turned to spot a head of blonde hair racing amongst the tables. Laoghaire—Mrs. Fitz tried to pull her back, but the girl was too fast. She approached us, me in particular. She came up to me and shoved me, palms outstretched. I stumbled, caught unawares, but Jamie held me upright.

“Seas!” Jamie exclaimed, placing himself between Laoghaire and myself. “Lass, get ye under control—this is no way to behave towards my wife!”

“Your wife?!” Laoghaire’s eyes were wild with anger. Mrs. Fitz had appeared behind her, and was doing her best to pull her away from us with quiet noises meant to soothe the girl. “I was to be yer wife! Ye broke yer promise, James Fraser! I canna forgive that!”

“There was no promise from me, and ye ken it well, Laoghaire,” Jamie said between clenched teeth. “I never agreed to it, and my uncle has accepted our union.” Everyone in the hall had fallen silent, the better to hear the confrontation.

“Jamie, let’s just go,” I pleaded, tugging on his arm. Laoghaire turned her attentions back to me.

“He’s mine! Get ye back to the hell ye came from, and leave him to me! Go I say!” Laoghaire stamped her foot like a child throwing a tantrum. My own temper got the best of me and I stepped around Jamie, bent on pulling her hair or clawing her eyes out, whichever I could reach first. He caught me around the waist first, though, and pulled me back into his chest.

“I shan’t be going anywhere, least of all without my husband,” I hissed. “You must cease to call him yours, girl, now that the law say otherwise.” I watched with a satisfied smirk as Laoghaire’s face fell, and she finally allowed herself to be towed away by her grandmother.

“Let’s go, Sassenach,” Jamie said quietly in my ear, as everyone watched Laoghaire leave the great hall towards the kitchens, and conversation started up again slowly in their wake. I broke free of Jamie’s grasp and left through the side door. Once out of the hall, I picked up my skirts and ran as fast as I could towards our room. I heard Jamie behind me, the heavy tread of his boots catching up.

“Sassenach—Claire!” He sounded out of breath as he neared my side. “I would prefer not to follow behind my own wife.”

I did not bother to turn around. “So walk faster.”

We reached our room and Jamie closed the door behind us. “Sassenach, ye must no’ mind Laoghaire—”

“Not mind! Jamie, she shamed us in front of the entire castle!” I cried, flopping down on a chair by the hearth. “She’s made me out as some sort of devious red woman who would steal you away on a whim…”

“Ye are not a red woman,” he replied, stifling a smile. “They ken now that ye are Claire Fraser, from Paris, my true and only wife.” He pressed a kiss to the knot of hair on my head.

“No one approves Jamie… I was not expecting cheers and applause, but all this speculation and gossip is unbearable. Please, when can we leave for Lallybroch?”

“As soon as the MacKenzie allows it.” He came over to crouch next to me and took my hand in his. “I never thought to ask, Sassenach… can ye ride a horse?”

I laughed at this change of subject. “Not terribly well. I mostly rode in a wagon on my way here. Maman and I walked most everywhere.”

“I think ye should practice. We’ll ride to Lallybroch. Although I do mind something Jenny wrote me awhile back, when I let her ken we’d been handfast… married women shouldna ride horses.” Jamie laid his warm hand on my flat stomach. I sat up abruptly straighter, and laid my own hand over his.

“”Tis no danger to me at the moment,” I said gently. He nodded, accepting my reply. “Should that change, trust you will be the first to know.”

* * *

Rabbits were nibbling at the carrots. I would ask some of the castle lads to set snares near the vegetable garden. My medicinal herbs were also at risk. I knelt, pulling up weeds tirelessly. I noticed the edge of my cloak was rent as well, a piece torn clean out. It was a castle hand-me-down, given me by Mrs. Fitz. I would have to mend it, but first, I needed to take care of my crop. I was so absorbed in my task that I barely noticed the shadow that fell over me. I looked up when it cleared its throat to find Geillis Duncan smiling down at me.

“Oh, Mistress Duncan! How are you feeling?” I wiped my hands on my apron and covered the glare of sunlight with my hand.

“That is precisely why I’m here, Mistress Beauchamp. Or should I say Fraser?” She still smiled gently, cradling her enormous pregnant belly.

“Fraser, I suppose,” I said, returning her smile. “But Claire will do just fine. Did you walk here?”

“I took my husband’s carriage. ‘Tis a little far to walk from Cranesmuir to Leoch now; I tire so easily.”

“I think perhaps even the carriage ride might be too much, all that jostling about,” I said, gauging the heft of her belly. “It could cause you to go into labor.”

Geillis looked surprised. “I didna ken that. Should I go into confinement?”

I shook my head. “Fresh air does you good. Just avoid the carriage rides from now on. Is there anything I can do for you, mistress?”

“I did mean to ask ye for a tonic. Ye see, after every meal I have this burning sensation in my throat. I feel as though I might vomit, and my stomach hurts as well.” She seemed embarrassed. “Do ye ken what is happening?”

I smiled to put her at ease. “’Tis common enough—heartburn. Do you eat heavily seasoned foods or garlic?”

“Both,” she replied. I nodded and rummaged through the herbs in my garden. I plucked a bunch of peppermint leaves and tied them with a piece of twine from my ever-present basket.

“These should help. Brew a cup of tea with the leaves after every meal.” I handed the sheaf of leaves to her, and she held them tightly. She gave me an appraising glance, and I knew what she would ask. What many of the castle inhabitants were wondering themselves.

“Are ye with child, Claire?” she inquired curiously.

“No, at least not yet,” I replied cautiously.

“Arthur—my husband—and I had trouble conceiving. We had tried for years, and nothing. And now, a miracle.” Geillis smiled beatifically, a glow about her.

“We’ve only been married a few months, and apart for most of them. When we are ready, I hope it will happen.”

She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “There is a wise woman in the forest, ken. Some say witch, of course. She has herbs and tonics like ye do. She can make a barren woman conceive. And she also helps the lasses who get in trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Ye ken, trouble.” She gestured towards her belly.

“Oh.” I understood. “We called them angel makers in Paris. They were not as busy as the maîtresses sage femme, for all that. Do you know…” I hesitated to ask. “Does the wise woman use herbs to make angels, or… other methods?”

“I dinna ken… though those that survive the cure, shall we say, are often sick for days afterward. It minds me of witchcraft,” Geillis whispered.

“Do you believe in witches, Mistress Duncan?” I asked carefully.

“There are many things in this world for which we have no explanation. But to hold a bairn in yer arms, fruit of the union with yer husband… ‘tis a kind of magic some women would consider worthwhile to have, regardless of the cost.”

[corvid-lullaby]

Drabble words: Smoke

Stuffy. Just as every office he has set foot into was, regardless if he were there to visit or if it was his own for a night's worth of mundane paper pushing. No matter what, Shikiya could never dispel the minor but annoying feeling of suffocation it brought. Even in his own office.

The chair before his desk rolled back with a simple push of his palms against the edge of the desk. It was about time for a break anyway, even if it was a brief and feeble one. With that in mind he stood up and approached a nearby window to open it.

It was high up as usual. Night, but anything but dark thanks to the flickering sea of lights below. Kamurocho was a city that never slept. This was fine. It held an odd sense of comfort for the cold nights that the end of the year brought. It was also a nice backdrop to look upon during a much needed smoke.

In a fluid motion of muscle memory, Shiki withdrew a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his crisp white suit. A flick, a light, and a sigh of relief expelled a mist of both smoke and visible breath from his lips after an inhale of the butt was taken. However, the moment the ghostly mixture rose to meet the distant lights, a pair of particularly red auras flashed through. It caused the ex-Patriarch's eyes to widen and stare, and for his cig to drop to the ground.

"...I only want what's best for you. I will always accept who you are now, but I miss the happiness that used to radiate from you..."

An all too familiar voice came with an image of the past in his mind. A vision shrouded in a fog of war due to the destruction caused by a violent confrontation of him and another. How the Dragon's eyes glowed with a powerful resolve. Most of all a choking fear that raped the mind and crushing emotions that suffocated the heart.

"...I only want what's best for you..."

It still stings.

A shake of the head was Shiki's attempt to return himself to the present. The cigarette was safely retrieved from the tile below and returned to his lips. They pursed into a thin line in some silly attempt to damn tears that threatened and stung his eyes.

"Damn it…"

The cigarette just tasted disgusting now to his dismay. Frustrated, he yanked it away between a pair of fingers and flicked it out of the window. He turned abruptly to return to the papers that helped leash his mind from wandering away again. So much for a break.

"I don't have time for post traumatics."

[humm-plays-fe]

Some concluding thoughts about NG VW on Maddening, Pt. 2: Battle time

From my previous post, I had a rough plan in place for duoing the game with Byleth and Claude, despite having not beat maddening before even with NG+, let alone without it. I’ll split up how battles went and the strategies I employed into 5 categories: early game, midgame, endgame, paralogues, and troublesome. Chapter breakdowns below the break.

Final Thoughts:

I honestly don’t know if I think this was overall easier or harder than training a standard team. On one hand, it was refreshing to only have to worry mainly about 2 units and once the avoid ball got rolling they were almost invincible. The months between story battles went by quickly because I only needed to focus on training one unit; the others I just left on their default goals. I was able to use most of my points on training Byleth to get onto a pegasus ASAP or cook stat-boosting dishes to help with the early chapters instead of having a bunch of meals.

The problem with this is that that ball doesn’t really pick up speed until chapters 15/16 and the chapters immediately preceding these were some of the roughest in the game to the point that I wasn’t even sure I would be able to beat them. I only got through ch. 6 because I had happened to have recruited Shamir and Cathrine. Sure all the exp got funneled into two units but because it falls off fast once you hit a certain level threshold above the enemy I do feel like that wasted exp could have trained up a third or fourth unit easily.

All that being said even with all the stat boosters I poured into both Claude and Byleth (by the end they both had reasonable def and Byleth had decent res) if they had actually ever gotten hit they still would have died very easily. With the enemy density and maddening’s tendency to have the enemy AI start mobbing and along with the annoying enemy skill sets (swordmasters have QR, wtf) I don’t know that I actually could have found it within myself to keep an entire roster going. So, despite certain hair-pulling scenarios, I almost feel like I cheesed NG maddening. But I did beat it, and I got the title screen, and that’s all that matters to me. And yes, I S-supported Claude at the end.

Feel free to ask me any questions about the run I don’t really have anyone else to talk to about this stuff.

TL;DR for Chapter Breakdowns:

Early Game: a bit of a challenge but fair

Midgame: build is coming together but most of the Troublesome chapters are here and they feel pretty bs when you try and lowman them. Get past those and you’re fine.

Endgame: Easy peasy. AS+ ftw.

Early Game (Prologue + Ch. 1-4)

You would think that the first few chapters would be the most difficult. In a way that’s kinda right. I’m pretty sure these chapters took the most turns out of most of the rest of the story maps.

Prologue wasn’t too difficult, stole Dimitri and Edelgard’s weapons and then used them as meat shields.

Ch. 1: Three Houses - I used whatever I could get here. While I tried to get kills with only Claude or Byleth I definitely used the other students to chip as much as possible or even get a kill or two just to get through the map. I distributed the DLC statboosters before this and Byleth got the movement shoes, which was exceedingly helpful for the entire game.

Ch. 2: Familiar Scenery - this is where the real game starts. The hardest bit of this map is getting through the initial waves of enemies. I brought Lysithea and Marianne for heals and some magic chip if neccessary. Even with healing spells, well, Marianne only has 5 casts atm, so this is where the vulnerary chugging starts. Took a while but not too bad.

Ch. 3: Mutiny in the Mist - I uh, didn’t exactly bother buying torches for this map. Still brought Lysithia (who had heal now) and Marianne (who got physic). I had already accepted the probably inevitability of Cathrine’s squaddies getting bonked (and one did on like turn 2) but after following them across the bottom of the map and then up toward Lonato somehow the other one survived and I got the rewards.

Ch. 4: The Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth - Honestly pretty simple. While this map does have a 25 turn limit the enemies don’t swarm you so I just made my way up the left side with healers in tow and killed the boss. Easy enough. At this point Claude was an archer and thus had better range, but not quite enough speed for Alert Stance to do a whole lot yet.

Midgame (Ch. 6-8, 10, 11)

About the time Alert Stance and Alert Stance+ start to become viable tactics and I don’t need to bring Marianne and Lysithea along to every map. You might notice some skipped chapters. Those get listed as troublesome. At some pont in these I ended up with a Prayer Ring and a Goddess Ring. Both Byleth and Claude had one equipped at basically all times.

Ch. 6: Rumors of a Reaper - I’d list this as troublesome but my failure the first time playing the map was mostly due to me being dumb. I’d forgotten you don’t get your lord this chapter and you have a 25 turn limit to either kill every enemy except the Death Knight (DK) or kill DK. Lemme just say that it is not possible to do either of those things with just Byleth (who was a pegasus knight by this point), at least the way I had played it wasn’t. Lucky me I had both Shamir and Cathrine in my army and because this was the earliest you could get them their stats were enough to take the right side of the map with Lysithea along for heals while Byleth took the right with Marianne for heals. Shamir was well-deserved MVP of this map mostly for sniper range and crits. Took 24 turns to clear.

Ch. 7: Field of the Eagle and Lion - ...I kinda just hung out on the upper edges of enemy ranges on the map and let the other two go at each other? Then once the density decreased a little moving in to start enemy phasing. I’m fairly convinced that as long as you’re the last house standing you win regardless since it definitely didn’t feel like I beat more enemies than the other two. Didn’t really care since I didn’t expect to be using the Blessed Lance that much.

Ch. 8: The Flame in the Darkness - Easy enough. Byleth flew down the right side and Claude took left. Saved all the villagers. Solon actually moves toward DK here so I kinda rushed the end. Ended up with dismounted Byleth in a bush next to Solon waiting and spamming healing while Claude came to bail her out bc she couldn’t one-round Solon.

Ch. 10: Where the Goddess Dwells - More wait spam. Just took a lot of turns thanks to the beasts.

Ch. 11: Throne of Knowledge - Hunter’s Volley’d the Flame Emperor on turn 3 to keep the crest stones safe. The rewards are not worth it, should have killed more stuff for exp.

Endgame (Ch. 15-22)

Yes I skipped a bunch of chapters. Yes there’s a reason for that. At this point builds and class goals are fully achieved and I can basically spam the “Wait” command to win the game. Even with forged training lances and bows. As I got to around this point I stopped exploring as much outside of monthly tea and focused on the extra auxiliary battles for exp and the stat boosters. I’m not gonna chapter-by-chapter break these down because the strat was basically set. Move, wait, repeat until near boss, kill boss. The only exception to this being Grondor 2, where I yet again just let the enemy destroy each other before cleaning up what was left.

Paralogues

These fall into 2 categories: A: Kill boss/perform goal ASAP, or B: slowly kill the entire map while the required but definitely underleveled and useless required units follow you around trying not to die. The approach depends on how easy it is to protect said units. I didn’t complete every paralogue I had access too as I deemed the rewards either not worth the hassle or the map to be basically impossible with my setup.

Rumored Nuptials (Dorothea/Ingrid): Approach B. Byleth was able to zoom over to reinforcement man pretty quickly and then it was a slow slog through the map the scoop up the exp. 66 turns, probably the longest I spent on any map. Got Luin out of it which Byleth could use if I needed some extra oomph.

Land of the Golden Deer (Lorenz): Approach A. Stride + peg knight = turn 1 dead boss. Lysithia get Thrysus and as a result saves my butt later.

Oil and Water (Hanneman & Manuela): Approach B, but with a side of frantic for the first few turns as I raced to take out the enemies nearest Manuela, particularly the peg knights. Not sure the batallions you get are worth doing it but I got exp.

The Forgotten (Sylvain): Approach B after sniping out the speedwing thief. Didn’t care too much about the rest of them. Lance of Ruin goes to Byleth for when nothing else will get the job done.

Tales of the Red Canyon (Sothis): Approach B, except this was mostly Byleth flying around out of the birds’ ranges leaving Claude to basically avo tank solo the entire thing. More Divine Pulse (defo needed) and the knowledge gem which goes to Byleth to have equipped when she doesn’t need the Goddess Ring.

An Ocean View (Seteth and Flayn): Approach B except both Seteth and Flayn are capable of helping out. Seteth has enough stats to not die and Flayn can heal. Spear of Assal gets added to the ever-increasing list of badass weapons Byleth can just whip out of the convoy when needed.

Death Toll (Ignatz and Raphael): Approach A. Takes a few turns to get to get to the boss and a few merchants bit the dust buuut I couldn’t bring myself to care that much.

Sword and Shield of Seiros (Alois and Shamir): Approach A. Hide everyone else in the middle of town and just let Byleth fly over to the boss. Stride helps. Also Lysithia picking off an enemy or two that got too close.

Troublesome (Ch. 5, 9, 12-14)

Welcome to the worst story chapters (imo) to get through while low-manning the game. Divine pulse, divine pulse, divine pulse, restart, divine pulse. Difficult and/or exceedingly annoying either because of additional defeat conditions, green units, or just straight-up enemy mobbing. If you plan on trying to low-man the game keep these chapters in mind because several don’t care how buff your own units are, they will find ways around it.

Ch. 5: Tower of Black Winds - ok this one technically wasn’t so bad I just felt like the strat I ended up using was so dumb it belongs here. Just hang back a little at the start to take care of the reinforcements and you can creep your way forward and snag the treasure chest. About halfway up the right side past the chest and after baiting some of the upper level archers with Claude I noticed that every enemy with a vulnerary decides to charge you. It was here that I gave up on Gilbert and retreated to the only defendable location on the map where I could turtle it out: the chest alcove. Claude took the brunt by Alert Stance avo tanking while dismounted Byleth plinked away with a bow from behind. Problem is I had also brought Marianne and Lysithia, and in order to keep them from getting sniped by archers I had to move them back and forth every other turn or so to get the archers to move either further down the wall to try and get to a position to shoot over it or back toward the slowly decreasing vulnerary mob. It just felt really dumb, ok? Beast Miklan was a piece of cake since he can’t go down the stairs. Claude just out-ranged him.

Ch. 9: The Cause of Sorrow - This chapter wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t felt like I’d gotten screwed over by Jeralt’s AI and RNG. I knew I wasn’t saving all the student but you lose if Jeralt dies (oh the irony) and he kept rushing straight for the other side of the map and getting mobbed by three at once. I basically ended up almost breaking the Blessed Lance this chapter (and I had thought I’d never use the thing, how wrong I was) just to be able to quickly break armor in order for Claude or Lysithia to melt health bars using either Hunter’s Volley or Seraphim (sometimes I’d use Seraphim to armor break and Byleth to melt health). Marianne with Physic kept Jeralt going despite his best efforts.

Ch. 12: To War - Also technically not the worst but even with Claude reaching Edelgard in about 5 turns it was nerve-wracking and frustrating trying to keep the enemy away from the defend tiles. Lysithia, Marianne, and Seteth get to join in to assist in this but they also add the extra layer of making sure they’re out of enemy range come enemy phase. DK’s advance does not help this.

Ch. 13: Reunion at Dawn - screw this chapter pt 1. :) On maddening this map is absolutely filled with snipers and gambit spam. So much so that even dismounting both Claude and Byleth is bushes next to each other didn’t keep them alive. On top of that even if that did work this condemns the rest of the students to death and I wanted to at least keep Lysithia alive. Thankfully, she spawns with the group in the safest corner. I ended up moving my duo north, dealing with the small group of enemies there then moving east across the top of the map. I’d gotten Leonie on a pegasus so she was able to fly up and join the safe corner and follow them along with Lorenz and Ignatz. I don’t think there was any way I was getting Hilda out of that so she got taken out. After joining up with Lysithia’s group I was able to fly over the wall with Claude, take out Pallardo 1, use stride on Byleth and fly to the south side of the map to take out Pallardo 2 on the same turn.

Ch. 14: The Alliance Leader’s Ambitions - screw this chapter pt 2. :)) Ah yes, a defend map with 4 tiles to defend and I have 2.5 trained units. No one really threatens the far right tile after turn 1 so more like 3 tiles but you get the point. If this map were defeat commander the entire time this wouldn’t be a problem, since with the powers of stride and warp I could (and did the first time just to try it) get Claude to the bottom of the map and defeat Randolph on turn 1. When that didn’t work, I took out Marianne and Lysithia and just tried to have Claude aggro as many enemies as possible as far away from the defend point as possible but there was always one paladin or so who slipped past, or the falcon knight reinforcements would just breeze past him. It was also still entirely possible for Claude to get hit at this point despite AS+ and die. I eventually decided I would have to find a way to last long enough to escort the greenie down to the fire trap and trigger the enemy retreat. Byleth was perfectly capable of doing this without issue, the problem was defending the 3 tiles for long enough to get him there. I ended up deploying Lysithia again and thanks the Thrysus, Dark Spikes, and Ashes and Dust I was able to finally defend the tiles long enough to trigger the fire trap and easily beat the map from there. If you can get past this chapter you’re probably fine for the rest of the game.

[chatnoirismycinnamonroll]

Only Human: Akuma! Marinette AU (part 3)

Disclaimer: I dont own, and never will I even come close to owning, either Miraculous or Christina Perri's song Only Human.

Tikki raced through the now silent hallways towards her chosen's classroom. She had been trapped in Marinette's purse, held down by the mist, and was only just able to get out. Like everybody else in the school, she had been able to see everything Only Human had shown her classmates. She felt her pain, her sorrow, her anxiety and stress at having to pretend that everything was fine when it wasnt.

Tikki sighed. She knew she shouldn't have held Marinette back from telling someone her identity for so long. All of that accumulated stress had been bound to be released sometime. And boy, what a release it was. Plagg must be so happy at the destruction she knew Marinette had left in her wake.

But, honestly, Tikki couldnt blame her. The way Marinette's "friends" had cornered her chosen in the bathroom had left Tikki piping mad, and if she ever saw them again, identity or not, Tikki was going to give them a piece of her mind. Anyone who thought Plagg was hell to live with had nothing on an angry Tikki. He may be the god of destruction and bad luck, but she was the goddess of creation and luck. You piss her off, and you might just get a new hole in your along with having your good luck run out.

Whoever said cats were the protective ones were highly mistaken.

Marinette sighed. She kept her eyes on the butterfly until she could no longer see it. She didnt want to face her classmates right now, especially since she could remember everything she had done as an akuma. She could remember making Lila bite her own tongue hard enough to bleed. She could remember lifting her and Alya up and slamming them into the ground. She could remember every image she made them see, every memory that she knew would make them feel guilty for treating her the way they had. And she didnt feel any better for it. She had hurt Chat Noir. She had blasted him into the wall with enough force to leave him dazed, when all he was trying to do was help her.

She also knew that she had had no control of herself. She had unwillingly let Hawkmoth push himself past her grief and into her mind. He had used her memories as leverage over her classmates, her....

She couldnt exactly call them friends now, could she? Not really. She looked up at them, seeing Rose and Mylene help Alix out from under a bookshelf and pull her towards Lila, who was still bleeding from her mouth and staring at Marinette with a frightened but hateful stare. Alya was sobbing and Nino was co.forting her, and Marinette's heart gave a lurch as they didnt approach her to see if she was okay, like she did with them after they got akumatized.

She forced herself to look away, forced herself to stand up and ignore their frightened gasps. She couldnt focus on them at the moment. She had to find Tikki so she could reverse her damage, and then she could head home and hopefully nobody would question why Ladybug got there late-

And suddenly there was a red kwami snuggling up to her cheek. She was standing at the front of the classroom, covered in dust and bruises, her hands cut and burnt a little from the struggle of tearing her own akumatized item, her classmates staging her, and her kwami was nuzzling her cheek and crying tears of relief.

"Tikki? Um..."

"Oh, Marinette, you're alright! I was so worried! I tried to prevent the akuma from getting to you, but I failed. I'm so sorry, Marinette. I was supposed to protect you, and you got akumatized anyway." Tikki lamented, tears leaking out of her big blue eyes as she stared up at her sweet, strong, beautiful chosen.

Marinette smiled, accepting that Tikki was giving her identity away because she was obviously going to say something important. "It's alright, Tikki. It wasnt your fault I got akumatized, it was Hawkmoth's. I remember everything, unfortunately, but I do remember that I never said the words. I never accepted his offer of akumatization. He forced his akuma onto me, Tikki. You tried to save me, but he was the one who took advantage of my emotions. Dont ever blame yourself for this, Tikki." Marinette held Tikki in her hands and kissed her forehead, nuzzling the cute being with her nose, getting a giggle out of her.

"You're the best kwami I could ever ask for."

"So it is a kwami."

Marinette looked up, finally acknowledging the others. Chat stood in front of her, staring down at her with several emotions in his eyes. She couldnt tell which was stronger at the moment. She could see the wheels turning in his head, and she knew the instant it clicked for him.

"You.... you're...!"

"A KWAMI? How did you get a kwami, Marinette? You're a superhero? And you never told me?" Alya said, her tears dying down as her eyes narrowed in astonishment and disbelief.

Marinette gulped, not exactly ready to face her classmates just yet. "I... um.. I...."

"She had no reason to tell you, Alya Cesaire. You should know all too well why that is."

Everyone stared down at the little red kwami, who had a serious look on her face that looked oddly intimidating for such a small creature.

Chat gulped, but kept his eyes on Marinette's as he shakingly whispered, "My Lady?" His anger towards his classmates rose further when Marinette nodded tensely, her arms folded and head bowed in a clear, protective manner. Oh, it was on. That did it. The entire class was gonna get a new one ripped into them. Nobody hurt his Lady, especially if she was also his Princess.

He glared at the class and stepped forward, ready to yell at them when a tiny red hand stopped him.

"Dont. You take care of Marinette. I'll take care of her so called friends." Tikki said, her blue eyes glinting dangerously. Chat nodded, turning to head towards Marinette, but his transformation suddenly dropping stopped him in his tracks. Everyone gasped as Adrie. was revealed, and they snapped out of whatever stupor they were in and began to yell, demanding answers from both him and Marinette.

He felt cornered and overwhelmed as they began to doubt him. How could he, Adrien Agreste, possibly be Chat Noir? They were nothing alike! Why didnt he tell them? Was this the only secret he kept from them? Did Marinette know? Why were they keeping secrets? What else did they have to hide?

He backed up until he felt a hand slipping into his, and Marinette looked up at him with reassuring bluebell eyes. He relaxed immediately. How could he not see his lady in her? He should have realized it the moment he called her his everyday Ladybug. He knew there was a reason he was so attracted to Marinette. There was a reason why Ladybug's rare flailings and nervousness so often struck him as familiar and adorable. Now that he thought about it, there wasnt anybody else who could possibly be Ladybug.

He held her hand tightly as the noise got louder and their classmates slowly came out from under the rubble to yell more things at them, and just when he thought he couldnt take it anymore-

"SILENCE!"

Everybody froze. They stared at the glowing red kwami as her eyes flashed with anger. "How dare you all demand answers from her after what you've done to her?! Marinette is not some toy you can just drop once shes no longer of use to you. Shes not some servant you can call upon whenever you want something. She's not some emotionless robot who you can order around and expect her to follow orders without any single input or objection. Shes a human being, just like you! So sit down, shut up, and show her the respect she deserves for having put up with you all for so long or so help me I'll make sure none of you ever have a good day ever again."

The silence that followed was deafening. Everybody slowly sat down amongst the rubble and stared fearfully at the tiny goddess.

The silence was broken by a cackle, and the little black kwami that had come out of Adrien's ring slowly floated his way towards his other half.

"Oh, oh, sugar cube, you're gonna make me split in two. I cant wait to hear what sorts of things you need to say to these ungrateful morons." His laughing suddenly stopped, and he looked at the class with narrowed eyes, his black form a almost a shadow, the only things visible on him were the two glowing green slits of his eyes. "I too would like to see them properly punished for almost destroying Paris by literally akumatizing the only other person who keeps them safe on a daily basis. So if you need a little bad luck on your side, dont hesitate to call me up, sweet cheeks."

Tikki smiled at him, before her eyes turned serious again and she glared at the girls. "First of all, I'd like to say I am very disappointed in all of you. You had no right to just turn your backs on Marinette, especially after everything she has done for you without complaint. I cant believe one little girl's lies are enough to fool you, and they weren't even GOOD lies!!"

Tikki's little antenna began to sway in her anger. "Max!" He jumped, his glasses slightly skipping from his nose. "You're supposed to be the smartest boy in the school. Tell me, how was a rolled up, thin, paper napkin going to gouge your eye out when 1) it was rolled up into a tight ball, 2) headed towards Lila's hand, which was level with your stomach, and 3) your eyes were safely covered by your glasses? Tell me, how?"

Max looked down in shame, having figured that out at some time during the attack. Tikki shook her head and moved onto the next person. "Alya. You've called yourself Marinette's best friend, but you sure didnt act like it at all today. Best friends have each others backs. They trust each other and always listen to each other. This isn't the first time you've disregarded Marinette's words and facts as nothing but jealousy. Not only that, but you chose your boyfriend over your best friend. You didnt protest moving Marinette out of a chair she worked so hard to keep all year, and you didnt even give her the benefit of the doubt when she tried to warn you about Lila's lies."

Tikki began to slowly vibrate in her anger, a low buzz filling the room.

"And then, you have the audacity to te her to show you proof of Lila's lies when you yourself have no proof that what Lila is saying is true. You could have fact checked with Ladybug about being Lila's friend. You could have asked Marinette to ask Jagged Stone if he ever had a kitten. You could have looked up half the things Lila has said on Google and figured out that NONE OF THEM WERE TRUE. And then- and then-!"

Tikki stopped talking as her body glowed to a deep angry red, the black.of her spots looking more like the dark, empty void of space than the sweet, adorable, chocolate chip looking spots Marinette often told her they looked like.

"Sugar Cube?"

"And then, you dared tell her that she was wrong to be angry. That she was wrong to have treated Lila so "mean" when she hadn't been mean at all. You told her it was wrong of her to question Lila and then dared demand her to apologize before then telling her to keep away from you until she did. You ditched your best friend for a new girl, a stranger, with outlandish and interesting stories. I guess Marinette was wrong to have trusted you the way she did, didnt she, little fox?"

Alya reeled back, her eyes back to streaming tears. "I'm sor-"

"Dont. You haven't thought about your actions. Not really. You're not completely sorry, so dont apologize just yet."

Alya quieted down, her sobs silently shaking her frame as she leant against Nino, her thoughts finally calm enough for her to properly analyze them.

Tikki moved on, glaring at the other girls. "And you all. Mylene, Rose, Alix. Marinette has been nothing but kind to you. She has helped every single one of you with something personal. With something important. Both as herself and as Ladybug. And the one moment she makes a mistake, you make her out to be a monster. You, Mylene, know that Marinette wouldn't do anything out of jealousy, especially not after what she did with Kagami and Adrien." Mylene hung her head in shame.

"Rose, you called Marinette the everyday Ladybug, but you had no right to detract your words in such a way. Ladybug makes mistakes too, and you basically told Marinette that since Ladybug is perfect, Marinette couldn't be Ladybug because she wasn't perfect. You faulted her for feeling betrayed and insulted and for showing her emotions. And you had absolutely no right to do that." Rose let a few tears fall as she remembered her uncharacteristic behaviour.

Alix looked at the kwami in shame, knowing what Tikki was going to say. "Alix, dont you ever call Marinette selfish again. And dont ever fault her if she decides to act selfishly for once. I honestly think she can afford to be just a little more selfish sometimes, especially to get the boy of her dreams."

Tikki was back to her normal hue, and her anger turned to disappointment. "You all were pretty despicable today. I could not believe this behaviour from you. I expect much better from all of you."

The class hung their heads, all except Lila. Tikki stared at Lila blankly before moving back towards Marinette.

"Wait, what about Lila?" Adrien protested. He stood up and glared at the little liar. "Shes been spreading lies about both Marinette and herself all day. Shes the reason why everyone is mad at My Lady in the first place. Shouldn't she be lectured and punished as well?"

Tikki stopped her advance towards Marinette. She styled floating in the air for several seconds, before turning back and smiling at Adrien. Adrien instinctively stepped back from that smile.

"Don't worry, Adrien. Lila's been cursed since before I entered the room." Her smile switched from Adrien towards Lila, who stared back with frightened eyes. "I'm very protective of my Ladybugs."

@drarrylover007 @mindfulmagics

[eunikesyanne]

The Book of Jacob Maddock

Chapter 1: Inside The Misty Forest

Jacob sighed as he stared at himself in the mirror, making sure that he have already looked presentable. His dark brown hair has been brushed as tidy as it can be, short but held a handful length of hair that allows him to tie it. Wearing a copper and red oriented suit, he made sure that not a dirt or dust latches onto the cloth. Lastly, he stared into his own chestnut eyes. Not an eye bag to be seen, not even a spot on his face. He looked as ready as a host at a party, preparing for an important feast that will surprise anyone who attend it.

But of course, he wasn’t dressing for a party.

Smiling to himself, he then turned to the stool next to the mirror to pick up a leather book and a pen. Holding it tightly and closely, Jacob nodded to the reflection of himself. “Big smile and optimistic thoughts!” He said to himself, then stepping to the dark wood door. Every day, his morning started like this. Wake up around six in the morning, make haste to clean himself, and then dress himself to look as ready as he needs to be.

As he walked down the hallway, Jacob heard noises around the house. Floor being swept, windows being wiped clean. The entire house are being cleaned, all to meet the master of the house’s demand. But as he walked through the house, he finds not a single servant. Instead, he saw the luxurious paintings and decorations that was on the wall or standing next to the wall. He remembers how the master admire the pieces of art, being a man who paint a world and a scene using words. Be it written, painted, or even carved. An art is an art, and every art has it values that only some can admire its true beauty and meaning. The words from the master passed his mind as he stared at the paintings that he passed by.

Soon, he come up to a towering door with a tree carved into its wood. Ironic, yet it still looked finely made. Jacob always wondered how did his master could convince anyone to make such a carving, nonetheless on a door that is about fifteen feet tall. Complete with certain kinds of gem decorating some of its surface and acting like a fruit to the tree, as if the carving wasn’t impressive enough. Extending his hand toward the door, he was tempted to rub the smooth surface of it, but the man stopped and balled his hand into a fist before he could even lay hand on the door. Sure, he admired the door and such, but this isn’t the first time he had been tempted to examine it closely. Taking a deep breath, Jacob closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. With a quick loud knocked at the door, he pulled his hands to his side and stared at the door as it slowly creaks open. His eyes fixed at the sight presented in front of him, not moving away to even check who opens the door. Not that he have to.

The sight that was laid in front of him would awe everyone, or at least that’s how he react on his first time. Stepping into the room, the room was a mix of a library and a living room. Pillars that were on the wall have its cabinet cleaned and the book neatly stacked, all in the right order, alphabetical and the date of when its published. A desk can be spotted at the other side of the room, crowded with piles of books, scrolls, and even letters. Though, he didn’t spot his master at the desk. Which means…

Jacob turned to his right, catching a familiar figure sitting on the fancy green couch and facing the window that is presenting the view of the garden. Approaching the window, he stared out at the sight and take in the scenery. “Good morning Master Hyde, breakfast will be prepared in a minute,” he said as he turned to the other man in the room, a smile on his face. “Do you wish to have your breakfast at the garden? I’m sure you would appreciate the smell of the flowers in the morning.”

He watched as the vermilion green eyes locked onto his own, the pale skinned man rest his chin on his hands that was supporting the cane. “How would you describe such scenery, Jacob?”

Lifting his brow, Jacob quickly split open the book and write the question with his pen. Then, he turned to the scenery again. The morning light that was creeping from the clouds shed small lights into the garden, the small mist that adds to the mysteriousness of the area was one of a touch. Not to mention the gazebo that was built at the center of the garden, as well as couple of fountains at every intersection, designed to have a certain ancient aesthetic. Complete with small jars hanging on every side of the small building. Some statues and decorations can be found scattered near the gardens, adding to its artistic.

“Apologies ahead, if what I said did not exceed your expectation, Master Hyde. But…” He switched back to the sitting man, putting his pen between the pages, “It gives me the impression that I had just found a lost garden, hidden under the cloud of mist on purpose. It’s also giving me an impression that… whoever walked through the garden, would marvel at the sight presented upon one.”

“Very good,” his master responded, clapping his hands at him as he stood up from the couch, “Write that down and follow me to the garden.” And with that, the tall nobleman make his way to the exit, the copper cane hanging on his arm.

Without thinking, Jacob quickly catches up with his master. He followed right next to the taller man, his eyes on the book and writing with such speed. But even while he was walking and writing at the same time, the words doesn’t look messy or scrawled out. “Stairs.” His master warned him in calm manners, in which, he notices and looked up from the book. Catching sight of the stair, he made sure that he take a few steps down before going back to write again, having to get used to going up and down the stairs to follow his master.

Once he was done recording what he said in the book, he held the book and the pen close to his chest. At the same time, they finally arrived in the garden with the door opened in front of them. Instead of spotting the thick mist covering the road, he saw the garden missing said mist. It’s as if someone had already driven it away with the lights of the sun that finally pours out to light the garden.

Jacob stood with wide eyes at the close sight of the garden, his master seems to take notice and looked over his shoulder. “How would you describe such feeling, when you entered the garden, Jacob?” The question didn’t snap him out of his thoughts, instead, the answer to the question quickly formed into a thought.

“It’s like… entering a sacred ground, a place that only some are given the rare opportunity to see the place at times like this.” Stepping through the road, his eyes scanned the surrounding area. His master rarely wishes to have breakfast at the garden, and he had wished that he could have one chance to visit the garden at time like this, he didn’t expect that today would be the day his wish finally came true.

Standing still in the middle of the road, he noticed his master stopped on his steps and stared at him. Fortunately for Jacob, the silence was filled with the sound of the morning breeze and birds that was chirping and bathing on one of the bird bath. Looking into the mysterious vermilion eyes, he waited for something he had wish to see. “I’m impressed that you didn’t use the same description that you use when you were looking at the garden from my study,” he heard his master responded, a little disappointing that it wasn’t what he had wanted to see. But even then, the compliment was still accepted.

Watching his master turned to the road again and continued his steps, the shorter man followed behind with a thought lingering in his mind. The thought that still puzzle him and made him curious to see it happens. But before he could delve deep into his thought, he found himself and his master finally standing inside the gazebo.

A round table, filled with food and jug of water, complete with its silverware, and two seats placed across each side of the table. Of course, one for him and another for his master. Helping his master take a seat by pulling his chair for him, he then makes his way to his seat. “So, Jacob,” the writer perked up at his name being mentioned, “describing a scene that the character see aren’t as effective as it can be, but that doesn’t mean you should cease to use such technique. If you want the reader to feel something toward a scene or an object, then you have to describe how it feels.”

Watching his master reached for a cup nearby, he was about to make a comment about it being empty. But he manages to hold himself from saying so, remembering something. After taking a sip from the tea, his master continued, “You might ask; What if I was never in such situation? Thus, not allowing me to feel how it feels? Well, Jacob,” Hyde cleared his throat, leaning forward as he rests his arm on the table, “we all have the moments in our life when a scene in our story can be emphasized as something that has happened before. For example, a writer could never know how it feels to be part of a cult, yet they know how it feels to be part of a religious group. From that, you can take reference of a real slice of life feelings into such scenes in your writings.”

Jacob quickly wrote down the words, his hands dancing with the pen as he did so. Once finished, he nodded to his master and picked up his teacup. That somehow already filled, same goes to his master’s, but he knows that there’s only a jug of water on the table. He stopped questioning about it after a while, now that he know what causes it to happen. Some could say that he had grown accustomed to it, which is not a big problem. As he enjoyed his morning tea and breakfast, along with his master, he recalled his first time coming to this secluded resident.

It was a month ago, when he still live with his parents. Jobless, or so his parents think he is. Being a writer, his work was rather unappreciated by many from his environment. His father was a farmer, working hard to school him and feed the family. Meanwhile, his mother was a maid in a restaurant at a nearby town. Despite being pushed to be a successful businessman by his parents, Jacob knew his life wasn’t meant to go that road. Instead, he finds comfort in creating world and stories by pen and paper. Then, he found himself stumbling upon a book in the city. An old dusty book that tells story beyond imagination, fascinating yet mysterious. The writer? It was Hyde Maddock, the man who are now his master and his mentor.

Looking to the man, he smiled at his master. Hyde Maddock wasn’t what he expected to be when he finds himself at his doorstep. In fact, he didn’t expect the man to be alive, considering the book that he wrote was old and worn out. But here he is, with a man that is just a few years old from him, or looked like it. He remembers the offer that Hyde has made, one that he never expected and never regret.

Stay here in this manor with me. You’ll be fed, cared, and have nothing to worry about other than the thing you wanted to make. I will be your mentor and you will be my assistant. Accept this offer and you will take this one chance of a lifetime… Refuse it, however, and you will miss an opportunity that will seize you from the world’s problem.

Then, take the chance he did.

“Jacob.” He perked up at the mention of his name, smiling to his master and waiting for him to continue his words. “What’s my schedule for today?”

The writer put his tea down and opened the journal, flipping back the pages. Finding the list of schedule that he had written down, he read the page, “You had your breakfast, so that’s one activity cleared out. You also have to do your daily walk around the manor after breakfast, as usual. Then…” He squinted his eyes, pulling his face closer to the page as if he had to double take what he saw. “… Nothing.”

“That is all?” Come the question from his master, in which he answers with a nod. Closing the book and pulling his face away from it, he looked to his master with a certain kind of look, one that his master seems to recognize immediately. “I was thinking that, since you don’t have anything to do today, may I suggest that we are to spend the day in your study? Perhaps we can talk about one of your book!” There was a moment of silence between them, between Hyde who seems to be thinking while holding his chin. Jacob himself, who seems to look excited for the answer that he has been waiting for, stayed silent.

The dark dressed man shrugged and picked up his tea, finishing the drink before  answering, “You might be right, Jacob. How about we make our way to the study while I think about the activity we could do? Maybe I can even come up with something even more fun than talking about my work.”

Jacob tried to not show his happiness, he has always been looking up to work with the other. If that’s what Hyde was talking about, then again, Jacob knows his master’s word for fun would be creating a work of art in a shape of a story or poems. Finishing his own tea, he then stood up from his seat. Before he could rush into the house and start the activity with his master, the man quickly and gently pulled the chair back, allowing his master to stood up from his seat.

As they leave the gazebo, and soon entering the house, Jacob couldn’t stop thinking of the time he would spend today. He never gets the chance to see Hyde working or writing, it’s always been him who write for the man. Of course, he knows that was part of the practice. But he has been curious to see how Hyde could come up with such wonderful way to tell a story. It fascinates him and today, he’ll have the opportunity he has been waiting for, the chance to see a story being written in front of him.

Passing through the main entrance room of the house, he stopped on his feet as  he heard a knock coming from the door. His brow furrowed, and he turned to the gate, then to his master with a questioning look. “Um, Master Hyde…?” He stared at the man who seems to look at the door with a lifted brow, showing his curiosity.

“Open the door, whoever it is, please treat him as a guest.” Hyde commanded.

Responding with a nod, Jacob was halfway from the door before he heard his master added, “Oh, and Jacob? Whoever it is, please tell them that I did not accept any guest at the moment, so I’ll let you handle the guest. I’ll be at the study when you’re done with whoever is knocking at the door.”

And with that, he nodded again and continued his way to the door. He really hoped it would be just a prank pulled by someone who just pass by, or a lost person who only need a direction to where they were supposed to go. Sure, he need to be responsible to whoever is he’s about to deal with, but he prefers that he wouldn’t need to deal with anyone at the time being. Especially when he’s about to get a help of the other to write. Standing in front of the door, he made sure that he looked presentable and tidy. Not wanting to leave a bad impression to whoever is knocking. Then, the door slowly opened up, revealing…

A small boy, wearing a trouser with suspenders and a hat, looking exactly like a shoeshine that he would see around his hometown. His eyes met with the boy’s bright yellow ones, almost reminding him of the color of a sunflower. The boy’s freckled face seems to be covered in black substance that he figures to be an oil, it even gives out the stinging smell that he almost couldn’t resist. But Jacob has inhaled worse, especially since he grew up in a farm.

“Mister? Can you help me find Timmy?” The boy asked, voice soft and the tone of his voice was clear to Jacob that he was trying to be polite.

Watching the boy took his hat and began twisting it, he spotted the strands of white hair that the boy seems to have. Strange, but it’s none of his concern. Bending his body down and placing a hand to his knees to support his body, he reached the boy’s level and smiled. “Excuse me but, who is Timmy? And who are you?”

The boy looked down and away from him, looking nervous. “I-I’m Joshua… Timmy is my friend. We were playing in the backyard when all of a sudden, T-Timmy went through the cracks on the wall and went to the woods.” Joshua, apparently the name of the boy, looking even more nervous as seconds pass. His feet tapping in a quick pace, body swinging from side to side.

“Is that how you get here?” Jacob asked, knowing that waiting for the boy to say something else wouldn’t get them anywhere.

Joshua nodded in response. “W-We came out from that forest over there…” Pointing off to the forest across the road, there was nothing but trees and vines covering the inside of the area. “P-Please don’t call the police… O-o-or take Timmy away. He’s my only friend, m-m-mister.”

Looking out into the woods, Jacob furrowed his brow. His master had made it clear for him since his first day at the resident. Nothing good ever come out from outside the resident, and he didn’t need his master to tell him a story of someone who try to prove the fact wrong. But to know that the boy arrived from the forest? Now that’s new. But no matter, if he wanted to think and theorize about it for long, he might as well be spending his day in the garden instead of asking his master to help him with his study. Then again, he couldn’t just leave the kid to stand in front of the door.

“Don’t worry Joshua, I won’t call the police,” he said reassuringly to the boy. Seeing the boy right now, it reminds him of himself when he was at the same age. Frail and nervous, whether it’s from the people around him or from some other facts. Putting his hand on the smaller’s shoulder, he gave a smile at him. “How about we go inside and see if we can find your friend Timmy?”

The bright yellow eyes quickly widened and looked at him, a smile began to form on Joshua’s face. “Thank you mister! I-I appreciate the help, very much!” The boy said with a giddy tone, making Jacob laugh softly at the reaction. Kids like Joshua are rather sweet in his opinion. Unfortunately, with the smeared oil on his face, Joshua lacks the cuteness that he could count in to complete his sweet and cute child look.

Letting the boy in, he watched as the door behind them closes and the boy stared at the room with awe. It was the size of a ballroom, complete with fountain in the middle of it and a giant chandelier that hangs on the ceiling. A single stair that leads to the second floor was presented in the other end of the room, displaying a grand picture that was covered with a drape.

As he approached the painting with Joshua, the tilted his head at the picture. “Mister… why did you cover this?”

Jacob blinked at the question and smiled, “I’m not the one who cover it, Master Hyde is.”

“Who’s Master Hyde?”

“The owner of the house!” He said with an even bigger smile, turning to where he is going and stepping into a hallway, Joshua following behind him. “Hyde Maddock is an underappreciated writer, creating great story with deep philosophical meaning and imaginative world that hardly anyone could ever think of! But I figure someone like him must have had experience of a lifetime, he did challenge his reader to figure out some fun facts about the characters by being keen about every detail in the book!”

Closing his eyes as he walks, he let his mind wander even more into the thought of his master’s work. “Every description might seems to be weird, yet in the end it all make sense! Every odd dialogue or wording turns out to have been a hint to what the end leading up to! The man know what he’s doing and let me tell you, he knows what he’s doing!” Opening his eyes, he turned to where he expected the boy to be, which is behind him. But what he finds was an empty hallway, no sign of the boy.

That is until he heard the boy’s voice from the other end of the hallway, a scream.

Jacob quickly make a run toward the noise, shouting, “Joshua!” His suit, fortunately, wasn’t too tight and fit just enough for his body. Enabling him to run even with such clothing. Still, the marbled floor turned out to be almost too slippery for his shoes to run on, almost finding himself losing balance over the twist and turn of the hallway.

Soon, he finds the boy standing in a hallway with giant windows to its side. Joshua stares with horror at the sight presented in front of him. A damp cloth moving by itself and wiping the window, with no one around but the boy himself watching it doing its job. “G-Ghost! Th-There’s a ghost!” The boy shouted, tripping down as he stepped back with such carelessness and still staring at the cloth.

“No! No, no, Joshua, it’s fine!” The older quickly approached the boy, helping him to stand up before explaining, “I know it looked odd, but believe me, it won’t do you any harm.” Watching Joshua trying to calm himself, he patted the smaller’s back and sighed. “Think of this place like… Alice in Wonderland. Instead of terrible ghost and such, there’re fairies! They’re helping me clean up the house and such, not that bad right?”

Joshua’s expression slowly calmed down, the mention of fairy really led him to believe that it truly is a fairy. “N-No… that’s…” His stare immediately turned into an awed one, “…am I really in… Wonderland?”

“Well, if you believe so then it is!” Jacob smiled, dusting off the dirt from the younger’s back, “when I first came here, I was just as surprised as you are. There’s really no one here except me and Master Hyde, but even he is still a mystery to me.” The man chuckled at what he said to the boy, hoping that the change of topic would bring him to a good mood. “Here, we don’t want you to get lost right?” Jacob offered a hand to the small boy, expecting them to take it.

The smaller stared at the hand and then back to the cloth, it didn’t take him long before he decides to take the hand and hide behind the grown up man. With a tight hold, they both continue to wander through the hallway.

The two were silent as they make their way around the house, looking for Timmy. Though the silence didn’t last too long, breaking as the smaller asked, “M-Mister… C-Can you tell me more about this place?”

“Oh, well…” Jacob cleared his throat, “I… honestly don’t know much history about this house, but I could tell you something about it. Everything here is quite… good, you got food, drink, necessary clothes, a place to sleep, and a place to create a work of art. Master Hyde told me that the house used to be so crowded with people, those who want to pursue their career in the world of art in any way that is.”

Motioning to the wall, he let the boy see the paintings in the wall. “Artwork in a form of painting can be seen around the hallway, all of which is original… or so Master Hyde said, I’m not much of an artist to prove him wrong but, I believe he speaks the truth.”

Jacob saw the look on the smaller’s face, smiling reassuringly as to help the boy to gain the courage to speak his mind. “I-I like to draw….” said the boy, turning his face away as to hide it from the older man’s view.

Chestnut eyes stared at the small boy with curiosity. “A young artist? My, I bet you’ll be a famous one!”

“Y-You mean it, Mister?”

Giving a nod, he then replied, “Yes, if anything, I can ask Master Hyde to look out for your art and frame it in one of the walls! That way, your art will be amongst the famous ones. Of course, if you don’t mind that is…” There was a big smile appeared on Joshua’s face, warming the taller’s heart with such sight of happiness.

Exiting the hallway, he makes his way through the outdoor corridor and to the other wing of the house. Jacob then motioned to the collection of statues that were presented in next to the corridor, saying, “here is where Master Hyde put his collection of statues, most of them are from the Greek and Rome era. All the gods are here even!”

After entering the house again, Jacob make his way to the study room. His steps quicken as he come closer and closer toward the door, it was clear to the boy how excited he is. “Now, Joshua…” He stopped in front of the door, chestnut eyes turning to look at the bright yellow ones, “Do keep your best behavior if you want to find Timmy. Master Hyde is… one tricky guy to ask for help, but if you’re being polite, he’ll help you find your friend Timmy and then you can go home in no time!”

Joshua nodded, a bright smile on his face. “Right, Mister!”

“Alright, here we go!” He said, before knocking on the door.

The big wooden door slowly cracks, opening wide for the man and the child to see the inside. As they entered the room, the two will see the owner of the house. Sitting on the desk is a small white gerbil, with nonexistence tail. Hyde himself seems to be looking down at the critter, playing with the rodent using his hand.

Jacob, who noticed the small rodent on the desk, blinked in surprise. “Master Hyde…” he said, clearly trying to be calm, “Where did you find that rodent?”

Before Hyde could answer, Joshua quickly shouted, “Timmy! You found Timmy!” The boy run up to the desk, placing a hand next to the rodent. Laughing happily as he watched the small gerbil climbed on his palm, he then pulled the critter close to his face and let it rub its body against his cheek. Yellow eyes then focused to the owner of the house, quickly realizing who is the man in front of him. Standing straight, the boy then cleared his throat before saying, “Th-Thank you for finding my pet, Mister…”

Jacob, still trying to process what happens, shook his head and snapped out of his thought. Walking up to the boy’s side, he asked, “How did you know…- How did you find…” The writer was speechless, then watched as his master huffed with a smile.

“The critter find me, it seems to be lost so I take it to my study and wait for your return.” The tall man shrugged, then watched as the boy placed the rodent on his shoulder. “But here you are, reuniting him with his master…”

“About that…” Jacob turned to the small boy, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder as he lowered himself down to his level. “We’ve found your friend, I think it’s time for you to go home.”

Before the boy could answer, Hyde spoke up, “Home? He is home, Jacob.”

“Master, you must be kidding.” The writer chuckled, standing behind the boy and  staring at his master’s eye. Usually, he would find a hint of joke by looking into the man’s eye, a brow is always raised as if expecting him to laugh. No brows are raised and the stare that his master give to him are serious.

“No, Jacob. I’m not kidding.” Hyde stood up, placing both hands on his cane. Vermilion eyes stared down at the child, waiting for the boy to pay attention to him. “I’ve been waiting for you, Joshua, the new member of the Maddock’s household.”

Uploading my old writings to a new blog, since I’m gonna be focusing on my writing career from now on. This one wasn’t the first story I uploaded, but I still like it. I’m gonna archive it here, might as well upload some stories I’ve wrote that hasn’t seen the light of days (some spoofs and stuff). Thinking about redoing it someday, but for now, I’m already busy with a new work. Edit: GOOD LORD this was hard to post, had to do a lot of tries to get this one posted without an error.