#it makes me think of stories of church grims

[zombieella]

.

[canisalbus]

your mention of working at a cemetery makes me think! have you ever done any artwork inspired by church grims, or is there anything like that in machetes world/story? theyre an old fave of mine back when i was really into folklore 🖤

I don't think I've ever drawn any church grims, but I feel like I definitely should! It's got that mix of animals, folklore, religion and macabre that I find hard to resist.

To my understanding church grim customs are pretty specific to parts of the Nordics and the British isles, so you probably wouldn't encounter them in Vasco's and Machete's setting, but I can't see why they wouldn't exist in their world per se. Instead of dogs they could use other farm animals, I've heard of goats and sheep being a typical animal offering.

[iwtv-theories]

Iwtv S2e5: The theme of “being in love with death.” (Analysis)

Tw for mentions of su*cide and brief references of Armand’s Childhood tra*ma.

There’s one theme in ep 5 that connects all 3 characters (Armand, Daniel, and Louis) together. That theme is how all 3 of them are “half in love with… death.”

We have Louis in episode 5 purposely throw himself into the sun to end his own life . This act is partially caused by his guilt of not being able to save his family ( Paul & Claudia). Louis hallucinates Claudia “calling” him to the roof . And Louis goes to said roof top when the sun is out . This is a call back to how Paul ended his life on a rooftop during the sun rise. And how Claudia dies by being forced into the sun, so Louis does so voluntarily. Claudia's last words to Louis were "I was nothing but a roof shingle that fell off of your house” (echoing paul's self exit as well). Louis says about paul's death: "that was the last sunrise I ever saw. Perhaps the kindest thing the dark gift has given me. I don't miss the sun. The reminders it carries." The sun symbolizes the su*cide of Paul, the death of Claudia, and his own temptation to follow in his brother's footsteps. We also have Louis choose to end his mortal life the night of Paul’s funeral. Where he says he ‘wanted to die’ before Lestat shows up to the church and turns him. Armand telling Daniel "I've been calling you for some time", is also similar to Claudia "calling" Louis to the roof. It's symbolic of how Louis has had these thoughts since s1 . The temptation of death has been "calling for some time."

The scene of Armand trying to convince Daniel to die in ep 5 is based on a short story by Anne rice. Where he represents a grim reaper of sorts - where they “love him” as a symbol of death . But his words to his victims are also said to “represent his own desires” ( aka Armand’s desire to die). Why he says “WE” all long for the “end”. He’s including himself . Book Armand has also attempted in the past (when the sun could still hurt him). After the attempt he realizes , with annoyance, that he’s too old & Marius’ blood within him is too strong -for the sun to actually k*ll him.

We even see both Armand’s and Daniel’s desire to die visualized by the de@d body between them (as they mirror each other’s body language ) . And the very next line of dialogue is “ I don’t want - to die ?On that matter I know something you don’t .”

Armand while holding the body even tells Daniel “I’ll keep digging (in your mind) but I’m not sure if there’s more to you other than a hole.” Then he leaves to presumably burry the body in a hole in the ground . After this he later describes his second memory (which the book confirms was his first r*pe) . He says “ my second (memory)… an eager black hole.” On one hand he may be describing Daniel’s eagerness for the story but it could also represent Armand wanting to get buried into a hole after that traumatizing experience . People often joke about the possible s*xual innuendo of Armand calling Daniel a “hole”. But if so, the symbolism behind that s*xually coded statement is more bleak than simply that. We also aren’t sure if Daniel had a similarly traumatic experience in his childhood like Armand-it could possibly explain why at 20 he’s already an add*ct , who sells himself, is 1/2 in love with death, and is interested in stories of people who are often discarded by society . Note Louis says his own “first sin” is what made him feel like he’s somewhere “dark.” So when Armand thinks of his “first memory” he thinks of what he incorrectly perceives as his “first sin” -his second memory (which makes him feel like he’s somewhere dark , where he can’t seem to find his way out, like a HOLE).

Falsehoods in his story aside. It’s not a coincidence that Armand in Dubai says to Daniel : “they went mad , ended themselves: The only thing that kept me from the fire were the old (religious) rituals.” Daniel seeing him pray as Rashid (*may hint he still uses religious rituals, as a way to fight his temptation to go into the fire ).

During a religious episode , he even went into the sun ('for god') despite assuming he’d go to hell . Armand:"I held up my open arms to the blinding light. This sinner dies for Him! This sinner goes to Him.Cast me into Hell, Oh Lord, if that is Your will." So it's possibly that in the show (similar to Louis' mom) he believes people go to Hell if they commit su*cide. So as messed up as its sounds it could explain , one of the reasons, he targets su*cidal people in the show. Cause if he k*lls the humans who were going to end themselves anyways - well (from his skewed religious view ) he may think he's technically saving them from hell if he k*lls them first ? In the books he was also known for ending the lives of su*cidal vampires, and his logic and motivations were different : "“In a world where suffering is eternal and the line between life and death is blurred, sometimes the kindest act is to end the torment. I do not take life lightly, but for those who wish to leave this existence, I offer them peace. It is a mercy, a final act of compassion in a world devoid of it.” Personally I think he should leave su*cidal people alone, but his motivations are certainly morally gray, if he truly believes that.

This also could explain one of the various reasons he choses the coven over Louis & Claudia (in the show). He already stated he believed Claudia throwing herself into the fire (like Nikki) was inevitable. Cough it wasn’t . And he probably already knew (via mind reading) about Louis’ su*cidality . Right after Armand agrees to the plan - he walks in on Louis with his wrists opened up (which probably solidified his choice further).

Assad even said that Armand is traumatized by Louis’ attempt in episode 5 . And even though Armand’s actions aren’t excusable. If he truly believed that Louis would go to hell if he committed . Armand’s motivations for erasing Louis’ memory of the attempt are more compelling and give more nuance to his character . He erased Louis attempt like he erased the slashes on his wrists. Even if his love for Louis is VERY warped: it’s the reason he couldn't let him die, nor help him end it (which is part of the reason why he erases his memories and essentially imprisons him in Dubai where he literally controls the windows and doors). It’s why he goes from letting Louis “f*ck off tri-annually” … to imprisonment. Even if he was agnostic : his motivations are certainly compelling even though they are not justifiable and go against Louis' autonomy.

What’s ironic is Armand with his su*cidal victims “calls” them to their death - but when the guilt of Claudia “calls” for Louis’ to end his life , Armand drags him back inside to prevent it .

What’s interesting is Daniel in episode 5 actively questions Louis’ desire to “end it” and fights Armand’s words about wanting “the end”. Because (unlike Louis or Armand) Daniel doesn’t perceive vampirism as (mortal) DEATH but as (eternal) LIFE! He “likes his life”. Deep down he "doesn’t want to REST (in peace)" via Armand. And in the end Armand essentially gave him what he wanted -unlimited life . A small part of him may have wanted death. But Armand may have actually sensed Daniel’s desire for a mortal death -because what Daniel ACTUALLY wanted was to be immortal. Field (young-Daniel’s actor) echoes somewhat similar sentiments.

Daniel being “half in love with death” probably signifies 2 things in the present storyline. His mixed feelings of accepting death at his old age vs his older desire for immortality (he may have been '50/50' on it in ) . But also it possibly foreshadows how he’ll eventually be “HALF IN LOVE” with Armand (who is the symbol of his mortal “DEATH “and the beginning of his immortal life).

[sequinsmile-x]

Even Statues Crumble if They’re Made to Wait - Part 3

She can't stop thinking about the fact she isn't even meant to be here. That she's still supposed to be at home on maternity leave instead of sitting in a church in Colorado wondering if she'd ever see her husband or her little girl again.

A Minimal Loss AU with a Young Hotchniss twist.

Part 3/4

Part 1, Part 2

-x-

Hi friends <3

Thanks for the love on this story so far - it means the world. Young Hotchniss is so fun to write and writing it mixed in with one of my fav episodes?! Amazing.

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Aaron Hotchner whump, (flashback) canon typical violence, references to domestic violence/Aaron's childhood.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

April 1999

She knows something is wrong the moment Dave’s name flashes on the screen of her cell phone, because there was only one reason he’d be calling. 

He and Aaron had an agreement, that if one of them was hurt and couldn’t get in touch with their loved ones as a result, they’d call the other’s wife. Aaron often joked that if the time ever came he hoped he’d remember which one of Dave’s wives to call, something that would always make the older man roll his eyes as they both laughed at him. 

She abandons the translations she’d been doing, her focus immediately pulled from the documents spread across her desk as she grabs her phone, ignoring the slight shake of her hands. 

“Dave?” 

“Emily.”

The way he says her name, the kindness and sympathy woven through it makes her clench her teeth, her eyes fixed on her desk as she feels her colleagues’ gazes burning into her side, their concern enough to make her feel anger she knows isn’t justified. 

“What’s wrong? Where’s Aaron? Is he…”

“He was shot, Bella,” he says and it feels like she’s suddenly underwater, the sound of her heartbeat so loud in her head that her hearing fades out, a high-pitched ringing loudly in her ears. 

Rationally, she’d always known that his joining the BAU would put him at risk. She knew that. He was hunting and capturing dangerous people, people who had nothing left to lose as the net started to close around them. In the 6 months since he’d joined, he’d had close calls. He’d come home to her with bruises and cracked ribs and been nothing short of impossible as he healed. That had been hard enough to watch, her breath catching in her chest whenever she’d see his mottled skin, whenever he’d wince if he moved in just the wrong way but this was worse. Something she’d actively avoided thinking about each time he left their home and kissed her goodbye.

This was the first time she could actually lose him. 

“We’re at George Washington,” Dave says, “I’ll stay here until you arrive.”

She swallows thickly and nods even though he can’t see her, and she suddenly finds herself overwhelmed with gratitude the case had been local, that she’d seen him only a few hours ago. She’d been half asleep, curled around his pillow as he kissed her forehead and told her he loved her. She couldn’t remember if she said it back. They’d said it so often over the years, the term no less meaningful even though it was now a habit, that she couldn’t remember if she’d said it, if she’d lost her last ever chance to. 

“Okay,” she says, already standing up, “I’ll be right there.” 

She hangs up without saying anything else and grabs her bag, offering her team a half-explanation, asking them to tell their boss, as she leaves, all of her focus on getting to her husband. When she arrives at the hospital she doesn’t remember getting there. Doesn’t remember a moment of the journey or anything other than the need to see Aaron, to touch him and feel his warm skin beneath hers.

She finds Dave in the waiting room. He stands up as soon as he sees her and she can’t hide her gasp when she spots the patches on his shirt, a grim pattern of her husband’s blood drying on their friend's shirt. 

“Dave…”

“He’s in surgery,” Dave says, his smile forced and tight, an expression she’s sure he means to be reassuring, “The unsub got the drop on us. He was waiting and Aaron was first through the door. He is in surgery, the doctors said it looks good so far.”

She chokes on a laugh and shakes her head, wondering what could possibly be good about the fact her husband had been shot, and she briefly closes her eyes, heaving in a breath to try and calm herself before she looks at Dave again. She swallows thickly as she sees the look that flicks over his face, something he tries and fails to cover, “What aren’t you telling me?” 

Dave sighs, his hands on his hips as he tries to weigh up what he’s about to tell her. He clears his throat, “He coded in the ambulance.” 

A wave of nausea almost knocks her over, her stomach rolling in a way that must make her sway on the spot if the way Dave reaches out, his hands on her elbows to steady her is anything to go by, “He…he coded? He died?” 

“Emily,” Dave says, tightening his hold on her, forcing her to look at him, “They brought him back. Someone comes out to give me an update every 30 minutes or so and they’ll be here soon.”

She nods and blows out a breath that shudders through her. She struggles to fill her lungs again, her airways stuffed full of preemptive grief she can’t help but feel despite Dave’s assurances. She sits down, not sure her legs can hold her up any longer, and he sits next to her, ready to provide whatever she needs. They sit in silence. It’s all she can take. The thought of talking, of trying to pretend everything was okay, too much to take. It would break her and she didn’t want to break. Couldn’t break until she knew Aaron was okay. 

Eventually, a doctor comes out and calls out for Aaron’s family. She tells her that she’s his wife before she’s even finished speaking, and the relief Emily feels when she’s told Aaron is out of surgery is palpable. She barely remembers to acknowledge Dave as she’s led to Aaron’s room, the need to see him overriding everything else. 

He’s still unconscious when she sits on the edge of his bed. He almost looks like he’s sleeping, but the pallor of his skin and the bandage peeking out from under his hospital gown give away the trauma he’d been through today. She wraps her hands around one of his, the coolness of his skin, something she knows is down to blood loss, makes her chest ache. She lifts his hand and kisses his knuckles. 

“I love you,” she mutters, pressing her lips against his skin again, “I love you so much.” 

Every minute that it takes for him to wake up feels like a lifetime, her hopes dashed every time she sees his face twitch and he doesn’t open his eyes. When he eventually squeezes her hand, his eyes fluttering open as he groans, she feels relief wash over her, tears she’d been suppressing for hours pressing at the back of her eyes. 

“Hi honey,” she says quietly, kissing his knuckles before she unhooks one hand from around his and cups his cheek, “Welcome back.”

“Wha…what happened?” He rasps out, his voice thick with sleep and pain and she reaches for the small cup of water next to his bed, holding the straw in place for him to take a sip.

“You were shot,” she says, her voice shaking as her vision gets even blurrier, “Dave called me.” 

He gratefully drinks the water and squeezes her hand again, “You okay?” 

She chokes on a laugh and leans in, stamping her lips against his, “You’re the one who was shot and you’re asking if I’m okay?” 

He tries to reach for her but groans, the movement pulling at his chest in a way that makes pain spread throughout his body. She shushes him, leaning in closer, giving herself to him willingly as she rests her forehead against his. 

“If I got that call about you, I wouldn’t be okay,” he says, his breath warm as it skips across her face. It’s the thing that tips her over the edge, makes tears that she’d been resisting all day slip from her skin to his. Warm drops of her sorrow burning his still slightly too cool skin. “Hey, I’m okay,” he says, hating that his body isn’t cooperating, that he can’t pull her into his arms, “I’m okay sweetheart.” 

She sits up and wipes his cheeks and then hers, “I can’t remember if I told you I love you this morning.” 

He frowns, his brain muddled with anaesthetic and painkillers, “What?”

Her smile shakes as she straightens out the cannula delivering him oxygen, “When you left this morning. I couldn’t remember if I said it back. It’s all I could think about after Dave called…” she wipes more tears from her cheeks as they fall, “I couldn’t remember if I said it and I thought I’d never get the chance again.” 

He kisses her, his lips dry against hers, and he does his best to smile when they pull back, “I know you love me, Em. I’ve always known,” his smile turns dopey, an unrestrained edge to it she knows is the medication he’s on, “I knew you loved me even before you did.”

She chokes on a laugh and nods, resting her forehead against his again as she closes her eyes, desperate to seek out the scent of him underneath all of the antiseptic, “I wish I could argue with that. But you totally did.” 

“We’ve never needed the words, baby,” he assures her, “I love you and you love me. Everything else is just confetti.”

She smiles and kisses his forehead, “You are high as a fucking kite, my love,” she says, “You’re saying all kinds of crap you usually wouldn’t.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not usually thinking it,” he grumbles and she chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in her chest, the weight of the day settling on her shoulders. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says, pressing her lips together as she tries to stop her chin from trembling. She runs her fingers through his hair again, fussing over him in the only way she could right now. “I’m too young to be a widow.” 

He hums thoughtfully, “Me too. Let’s make a pact - no more getting hurt at work for either of us.”

She knows it’s a promise they can’t keep. That even though she’s more office based than he is right now there were still risks involved when she was in the field, and that in the future she would likely move to another team anyway. But right now, with his hand in hers and his sleepy smile focused on her, she can’t bring herself to argue with him.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, mister.”

___

Aaron checks his watch as he paces the hotel room, his lips against Alice’s temple as he holds her to his chest, his hand running circles on her back as she resists sleep. 

“I know, princess,” he says soothingly, “I know. Mommy is my favourite person to fall asleep on too,” he says, kissing her dark hair as she finally starts to settle, her cries turning into whimpers, “But she’ll be back soon.”

He continues pacing, talking about anything and everything to his little girl. Emily always said Alice had found his voice soothing even when she was still pregnant with her, that she’d only stop kicking and finally give Emily the chance to sleep when he spoke to her. His cheek against Emily’s bump as he told their baby about his day. 

He tilts his head to check on her after she’s been silent for a while and sighs in relief when he sees she’s asleep, her mouth slightly open with her cheek pressed against his chest. His phone rings just as he sets Alice down, immediately waking the grumpy baby back up and he groans as he picks her back up.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, kissing the side of her head as he settles her against his chest, “Daddy should have put his phone on silent.” He picks his phone up and sighs at Derek’s name on the screen before he answers, placing the phone between his ear and shoulder so he can soothe his daughter, “This better be good, Morgan.”

“Turn on the news.” 

He frowns, Derek’s tone abrupt even for him, “What’s-”

“Hotch,” he says, almost pleading with him, “Turn on the news.” 

He sighs and looks for the remote for the television, “One second,” he says, sighing as he finds it and switching it on, “You know I’m not working today,” he says, flicking through channels until he gets to the news, “I’m in Colorado with…”

He drifts off as he lands on the right channel, the headline makes his breath catch in his chest.

Raid at Separatarian Sect turns into deadly shootout. 

He clenches his teeth, the weight of his daughter against his chest the only thing keeping him grounded as he spits out his response down the phone “What the hell happened?” 

Derek tells him what he knows, the limited information they already had about the failed police raid they hadn’t known about and says that the team are on the way. He doesn’t try and argue with Aaron when he says he’ll see them at the scene, each as aware as the other that it would be a waste of time and effort.

When he shows up at the crime scene, Alice strapped against his chest in the baby carrier Penelope had bought them, he flashes his badge at the confused officers manning the barriers but gets past them with little argument. The hours it takes for the team to arrive drag by, every passing minute feeling like a wasted opportunity to get Emily and Spencer out of the compound. Alice sleeps through most of it, safe and content against his chest and mercifully unaware of what is unfolding around her. 

He doesn’t waste a second to talk to the team when they do arrive, barely giving Dave a chance to get out of the car before he tells him he wants him on point for the negotiation. Dave is fighting him on it, questioning why Aaron is there at all, when he hears a commotion behind him, a man in a suit that costs more than Aaron earns in a month walking towards them.

“I’m the attorney general of this state and I demand to know why I wasn’t told the FBI were doing a covert operation at the Separatarian Ranch.”

Aaron feels his patience snap and he walks over, Dave just a few paces behind him in case he needs to intervene, “The only thing you’re in a position to demand is a lawyer.” 

The Attorney General looks him up and down, his eyes lingering on the sleeping baby strapped to Aaron’s chest, “Who the hell are you?” 

“I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU and I’ll be the one telling the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” 

“You can’t talk to me like that.” 

He steps closer, his jaw tight as he gets in the face of the other man, “One of the agents in there is my wife,” he says, watching as the Attorney General’s eyes go wide and he takes a small step back, “If anything happens to her because of your incompetence I can assure you that whatever charges brought down on you will be the least of your concerns. Now get off my crime scene.” 

For a second, he thinks he’s going to argue with him, but he backs off, shaking his head as he walks back towards his car and climbs in the back. 

“It’s strangely impressive.” 

Aaron turns to look at Dave, the small smirk on his face seeming out of place, “What is?” 

“The fact you’re still very intimidating whilst you have a baby strapped to your chest.” 

A strangled chuckle escapes him and then he clears his throat, “You’re happy to brief everyone?”

Dave nods, “Yes. You’ll speak to JJ?”

“I’ll brief her now,” he replies, turning to walk towards where JJ had set up, but Dave stops him. 

“We’ll get her out, Aaron.” 

He freezes in place, his hand on Alice’s back as he nods, “Yeah.”

He isn’t entirely sure he believes it. 

___

He was used to violence. He’d grown up around it. It permeated the walls of his childhood home, his father’s anger living in every corner. Every crevice. He didn’t need his training as a profiler to know that’s why he’d sought out the career he had, why he seemed to chase those who spread violence around them like a fire, desperate to put out each flame. 

When Emily was pregnant, he worried he’d turn into his father. The fear had settled into his bones, heavy and suffocating as he finally broke one night and told her what he was worried about. She’d held him close, his head against her chest as she told him he was as far from his own father as it was possible to get. That she’d never once thought he’d turn into him, that she only felt safe around him. 

It’s a conversation that he’s reminded of as he hears her getting beaten by Cyrus, the sound of fists and steel-capped boots hitting skin a flashback to when he was too young to understand not every home was like his. 

He’s grateful JJ convinced him to let her take Alice back to the hotel, that his little girl was likely asleep in the travel cot in their hotel room and far away from what was happening here. What he’d caused to happen. He was the one who asked Emily to come, who convinced her they could make it work, and he’d never forgive himself if he lost her. 

He’d never forgive himself no matter what the outcome. 

His instinct is to tear off his headset, his entire body folding in on itself as he holds it in place, forcing himself to bear witness to the situation he’d put her in. The way she breathes in sharply as she anticipates Cyrus’s next blow is familiar, a strange echo from when she’d do the same at the start of each of her contractions during her labour with Alice. It’s a comparison he hates. It makes his skin crawl, anger thrumming under his skin that he has to ignore so he doesn’t burst into the compound himself putting her and everyone else in there in more danger than they already were. 

“I can take it.” 

“She’s antagonising him,” Derek says as Emily’s repeated words crackle down the line and Dave shakes his head, his gaze fixed on Aaron.

“No, she’s not talking to him.” 

“She’s talking to us,” Aaron clenches his teeth, his hands in sharp fists at his sides. He’d always loved her bravery. It was one of the many things he had always been enamoured with - one of the many things that had always somehow made her more beautiful. For the first time ever, he finds himself hating it. Wishing that she’d put herself first for once,  “She’s telling us not to go in.” 

He forces himself to listen for longer than Dave and Derek do, the grunts of pain coming from her evidence that she was alive. It’s only when she’s dragged from the room, the sound of Cyrus’s men taunting her fading as they get further away, that he finally tears off the headset.

___

“Alice is fine, Hotch,” JJ assures him, her voice quiet as she whispers down the phone, “She took the bottle okay and she’s sleeping. I’m kind of hoping my baby is as chill as she is.”

He sighs, his head in his hand as he chuckles humourlessly, “Trust me, she can scream the house down when she wants to.” 

“How are things going?” 

He looks at the compound, his eyes fixed on the church, “They just went in. Dave told me if I tried to go in with them he’d tell Strauss to suspend me. I should go. Keep an eye out for the survivors coming out.”

He knows she hears what he hasn’t said, that he’d only be looking for Emily, wanting to see her as soon as possible. To assess the damage Cyrus had done, hoping more than anything that it wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined. 

“Call me when you have her,” JJ says, “I’ll bring Alice to you as soon as it’s safe.” 

“Thanks, JJ.”

He paces back and forth, his arms tight across his chest as he watches the front of the church intently. He steps towards it as people start to trickle out, the sound of gunfire raining in the background as men, women and children stumble out into the open air. He helps them, feeling useless standing there doing nothing, all too aware of the fact his wife would yell at him for not helping anyone. 

He keeps looking for her, his focus never on anything for too long, his gaze constantly drifting to the place she should be walking out of, the tension in his muscles increasing with every passing second

He’s directing a woman towards the medical tent just ahead of them when the church explodes behind him. It hurts his ears, the injury from New York still fresh enough that loud noises would knock him back but he pushes through it, the pain nothing in comparison to the fear that wraps around his heart as he turns to look at the church. He can’t spot his wife in amongst the crowd of people in front of him, the chaos and thick smoke and rancid burning in the air making it impossible to determine who had made it out from this distance. 

“Emily.” 

The way he yells is muted by the ringing still reverberating around his head, his chest vibrating with the name he’d said in every conceivable way since they’d first met. 

“Emily.”

Their life together flashes across his eyes as he blinks against the ash in the air. Her smile, her laughter, the way she loved him. He ignores the sheriff’s warnings as he runs towards the stumbling crowd, no longer able to keep himself back. 

“Emily.”

-x-

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[romewritingshop]

Just Like Magic

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Viscount!Choso x Maid/Reader

Warning: Swearing? Threatening behaviour and use of knife

MASTERLIST

A/N: Some of you may have read this before, I just had to make a few changes in narrative and now I feel it is ready. Part 1 might seem not much but part 2 will be a bit more different. Part 3 is coming soon. Thanks and I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! Follow, comment or reblog, IDC because I enjoy writing this fic. Please pay attention before reading.

(Y/N) felt a tight lodge in her throat as she waited in front of the church's double doors. She adjusted the collar of the blue dress whilst her mind wandered. Finally the moment she had long awaited for had arrived. Three years and she was at the start of the fanfic she read but actually being in it was a different experience.

A gruff noise came from behind her which had (Y/N) freeze in her position. With a nervous glance, she felt blood flush from her face as a tall stoic man, with a thick small moustache, dressed in a regal purple robe. Still looking ugly and menacing in the last two years, since she had arrived in this world.

Duke Kenjaku had a cursory glint in his eyes as he examined (Y/N) from head to toe. After what seemed to be a lifetime, the Duke gave a grim satisfied nod as he stepped up to stand next to (Y/N), taking out a tentative hand out for her to hold on.

"You clean up decently for a servant girl."

(Y/N) bowed her head down, not wanting to respond to his comment. She had to tread carefully around this man, watching the doors as an empty church hall was unveiled to them; save for two men at the other end of the hall. The Duke plastered a cheshire grin as he began to lead (Y/N) down the aisle.

"I hope you remember my proposal. It would be wise of you not to turn back on your word, lest you would like to face the consequences of your actions."

(Y/N) gave a nod but he squeezed her hand tightly, expecting a verbal response.

"I remember clearly, your Grace."

If she didn't value her life so highly, she would have stabbed him to death. But right now was the start of the plot, the character that drew her in. (Y/N) lifted her head up to take a proper look at the man she was going to marry. The man with a rectangular mark on his nose, his eyes held a world of love. It felt like a stab at her heart because she knew it wasn't directed for her but for someone else he was expecting under the veil.

Her soon-to-be husband was Itadori Choso of Kaprines. Choso was a knight-turned-viscount who fought in the war against Wotrea and was relatively well known. From what she remembered about the story, Choso wanted to marry Lady Yorozu because he fell for her at first sight. However the Duke had another plan in mind hence (Y/N) was in a veil and wedding dress.

She met Choso at the altar. He politely bowed to which she and the Duke returned the gesture. He held out a gloved hand for her to grasp on as she finally stepped up to meet him, looking up to connect her eyes to his; before they turned to face the priest.

(Y/N) couldn’t tell how she felt. It had been three years since she was transported into this world. In that time, she had to quickly learn her role as a maid and integrate herself into society. Once again, she was going to have to do the same thing for she was marrying into nobility. Although the character she transported into was a reader insert so she could have any personality she wanted. And she was glad that of the Jujutsu Kaisen characters she read, she was with the one she liked most, Choso.

She faintly understood what the priest was saying and after what seemed to be an eternity the priest announced to the guests.

"If any person rejects this marriage, speak now or forever hold thine peace."

(Y/N) was tempted to speak out, to scream that she was forced into this marriage, to scream that the Duke was misleading Choso but no words could come to her throat. If she did speak, then worse was to come not just to her but her brother. In this story, Toge Innumaki was her brother. The sweet young man, who was mute in this book. She couldn’t have Duke Kenjaku hurt him. Again. Then came the dreaded words.

"Sir Itadori Choso, do you take Lady Kenjaku Yorozu of Shiuh Shia to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, 'til death do thee part?"

"I do."

"Lady Kenjaku Yorozu, do you consent to Sir Itadori Choso of Kaprines taking you as his lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, 'til death do thee part?"

"I consent."

(Y/N) said all too quickly and it dawned on her that they were now finally married. She now faced her husband, raising her head for him and getting ready for him to kiss her when he turned to the priest with a hushed tone. (Y/N) seemed confused, before it dawned on her that this was the exact moment that made her fall in love with the story as Choso turned back with a big smile on his face.

He stepped close to (Y/N), gently grasping her arms and leaning down to press a soft kiss on her forehead. After the kiss, he leant down to her ear to explain.

"I wish to save our proper kiss for our consummation tonight. I admit I'm afraid that I would act improperly if I were to kiss you on the lips."

(Y/N) felt her heart melt at his caring nature as she gazed at his loving expression, also surprised at his unconditional affection towards her. But deep down inside, where her gut swirled with uncertainty and unease, the affection was not meant for her. The wedding was now complete, Choso stepped down a little distance away so that (Y/N) could say her goodbyes.

"Is my brother safe now, your grace?"

"Your brother is safe. You, however, may not be. You have to pay the price once he learns the truth. After all, your job is to do as your master says."

There was a tinge of threat laced in his last statement. On the one hand, she was glad that Toge was safe but now she realises the painful part of the story that is to start. There was nothing else she could say but to accept her fate as she turned to see her husband gazing adoringly at her.

The Duke stepped away from (Y/N) to talk to Choso, probably saying some false comforting words about taking care of his 'daughter'. After a few brief moments, Choso stepped away from the Duke to go to his wife.

"We are leaving for my palace now. Your effects have already arrived at the palace."

(Y/N) gave a nod and held on to Choso's outstretched hand before being led by him to the carriage that was waiting outside. She was uncertain of what the future held for her now. One thing was certain, she was not going to play the story exactly as she read. It was an angsty story with no satisfaction for romance, but it was written descriptively well and it made her sob endlessly for days. Right now, she needed to tell him the truth whilst finding a way to not be killed.

The both of them settled opposite one another and the carriage set off. The sun was beginning to set as (Y/N) stared out the window, a wide range of thoughts running through her head.

"What are you thinking about, Princess?"

(Y/N) frowned at the wording and shifted her head to turn to Choso, who was leant back against the seat. It was at this moment she finally took a glance at his attire which seemed to make her bashful as he wore a same colour blue blazer with a white shirt and white trousers. A blue coloured shawl with embroidered blue anemones and ravens was draped across his torso and pinned to the shoulder. There were many golden thread embroidery stitches along the hem of the blazer. He had matched well with her and dressed impeccably.

He was nothing like the Choso she knew, though it was a fanfiction story. Only the personality of Choso was here and not his style of clothes that he would originally wear. It was time to forget her old life and start anew.

"Nothing in particular my Lord."

"Call me Choso, Princess."

(Y/N) felt heat flush her cheeks as she stared straight at her husband, torn to say anything.

"If you do not want to then you can whisper it to me in our room tonight."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened as she glanced up at her husband, who had a smug grin. He seemed to revel in teasing (Y/N) or to Yorozu. Maybe Choso and Lady Yorozu were closely acquainted. Wait no, what she remembered was that Choso had fallen for Yorozu at first sight. He didn't know what a truly awful woman she was. Her hands clenched tightly as she said nothing and snapped her head to the window.

Choso noticed this and leant forward to grasp her hand with reassurance, slightly embarrassed that he had scared his wife.

"Yorozu … I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

(Y/N) felt her throat hitch at his apology. In a few hours, he would take back the apology. Choso gave a soft smile and leant back to glance out the window, sitting in silence, as the carriage rode for three hours. It wasn't long before (Y/N) could finally see the palace come to view. It was captivating as the lanterns illuminated the palace walls and towers. It stood tall and proud as the carriage halted in front of the palace doors.

The entrance was empty save for a tall imposing man with blonde hair, dressed in black trousers and a blue buttoned shirt, matched with a beige robe. This man seemed to be important as he bowed at the carriage before stepping forward and opening the door. Choso stepped down first, exchanging polite greetings with the man before turning to the carriage to help his bride step off the carriage. Once (Y/N) got off, Choso closed the carriage door which signalled to the footman to drive the carriage down to the stables.

(Y/N) turned to face the man, who seemed to have a rather grim expression on his face. Choso didn’t seem to notice this as he rambled.

“This is Nanami. He is the head housekeeper and helps me manage the estate. Should you require anything, please ask him.”

(Y/N) gave a polite nod and smile as Nanami graciously bowed in respect.

“It is a pleasure to meet you my Lady.”

(Y/N) curtseyed in response before Choso began to lead (Y/N) inside the palace, rather hurriedly; it was certain that he was eager to spend time with her. The windows brought a glow of moonshine into the palace which made it easier for Choso to see where he was going. (Y/N) was unsure about why he was rushing and it wasn’t long when Choso threw his doors open to a large room.

It was grand and spacious with ivory coloured walls. The walls had embedded designs of arches with gold lining. There was a balcony that was large and concave shaped, a simple bench was at the front and thin gossamer curtains hung across the door. The bed was a four poster bed with pale green bed sheets and embroidered blue flowers. There was life to the room as (Y/N) stepped in to take in the design.

Choso quietly shut the bedroom doors and stepped towards his wife, clasping her shoulders and leaning close to her as if sharing a secret.

“What do you think of our room?”

It suddenly dawned on (Y/N) that this was her room. Her and her husband’s room. Her husband, who thought she was Lady Yorozu. It’s gone on for far too long and he needed to know the truth. She opened her mouth to start.

“Our room?”

It wasn’t what she wanted to say but she felt a tight lodge in her throat that refused to speak the truth. This was silly but Choso hummed as he slowly turned his wife to face him, his heart pounding against his ribs. He needed to be confident for his new wife.

“Yes. Is it not our duty as husband and wife to share a room?”

“That is true.”

“And should they not also share the same bed?”

(Y/N) felt heat grow in her cheeks as she bowed her head to look away, he wasn’t going to let her be shy when he had gained the strength to be confident. He curled a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look directly into the silhouette of her face which was still hidden under the veil. It hadn’t dawned on him that he had yet to take off her veil and to see her face in its true beauty.

“My dear wife. With your consent, may I share my body with yours? As a husband should.”

As he was saying the words, he was slowly lifting her veil up. (Y/N) felt her blood run cold and her limbs froze as she stared into Choso’s eyes. Shock settled over the both of them as Choso lost his joyful loving expression. It couldn’t be. Choso stumbled back, staying a clear distance from her, bewildered by the unknown woman in front of him.

“Who are you? And where is my wife?”

(Y/N) didn’t respond which made him snap in anger, almost lunging forward and reached behind him, pulling a dagger out and pressing the sharp edge of it against (Y/N)’s neck.

Fear began to fester in her body as her body began to convulse with short rapid breaths and her eyes welled up with tears. The cool sharp edge of the knife was pressing into the side of her neck and she was sure that if she moved, he would have easily sliced across and killed her instantly. She fucked up and didn't tell him the truth in time. Choso was shaking uncontrollably with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he began to roar.

“Where is my wife?!”

(Y/N) choked back a cry as she clenched her fists tighter.

“Choso I-”

“Don’t call me Choso!”

She blinked back tears and glanced up at the ceiling. She mustered up whatever courage she could and began trying to defend herself.

“Pardon me, my Lord but I am your wife.”

“That is impossible! I wed to Lady Yorozu of Shiuh Shia. The Duke himself gave her away to me.”

“It was me he gave away. Lady Yorozu was never to be wed to you.”

Choso could not hide his disgust any longer as he shoved (Y/N) away from him. He walked over to the bedroom door and pulled frantically at a cord which rang a bell. Within minutes, there was a frantic knock on the door which Choso swung open. Nanami stumbled in with a frazzled expression on his face. His eyes scanned over Choso before wandering over to the hunched figure that was the Lady.

He couldn't comprehend what happened but readjusted his composure to better present himself to Choso.

"My Lord, is something the matter?"

"Yes. Summon Captain Tsukumo and Fushiguro to the dungeon along with Yuuji. Also tell him to bring his interrogation tools. We need it for this wretched woman."

Nanami stared at the hunched figure in shock, almost hesitating to complete his task when Choso stomped over to the woman. He roughly lifted her up to show her crying face to Nanami, who almost dropped in shock. He couldn't believe his eyes as he bowed before running out of the room to raise the alarm.

Choso gathered both her wrists in one hand before pressing the tip of his blade at her lower back. (Y/N) could do nothing but let Choso unleash his anger on her. It's like the Duke said, she was going to pay the price. As she let herself be dragged by her husband. She kept her head bowed and it wasn't long until they were climbing the stairs down to a dark and dingy room.

It had a dreary atmosphere as Choso grabbed a set of keys from the wall, he unlocked a cell door and tossed her in before locking the door behind her. (Y/N) hissed slightly as the palms of her hands were grazed. Her dress was beginning to gather dirt as she pulled her knees close to her chest.

Two haggard voices echoed from the stairs before a bulky man and woman stood beside Choso. Both were dressed in a simple shirt and trousers whilst an expression of worry took hold on their faces. The blonde haired woman spoke first with a gruff voice.

"What happened, my Lord?"

Choso pointed his dagger at (Y/N), a bitter disdain marking his tone as both figures turned to the direction of the cell. The both of them were stunned at the fact that their commander had jailed this young woman.

"This woman claims that the Duke had given her away as my wife instead of Lady Yorozu."

Was it possible? To Tsukumo, she didn't look to be the malicious type to spread slander. Fushiguro too seemed stunned that this delicate woman had the audacity to claim that she was Viscount Itadori's wife. Both Captains straightened their posture and turned back to their commander.

"Where is Yuuji?"

At that moment, a pitched voice rang from the stairs, whining carelessly.

"Eh, calm down, I'm coming. A man like me needs a long rest to better function in the day."

A rather short skinny figure with pink hair stumbled into the dungeon, lugging behind a heavy case which Nanami was helping him carry. Yuuji eventually heaved the case and rested it against the cell bars, before spinning to face Choso.

"What seems to be the problem, big Bro?"

Choso gestured at the cell to which Yuuji turned to understand. Instead of sharing the same shocked expression the other people had, Yuuji had a curious soft expression on his face as he crouched by the cell to gander at the quivering form of (Y/N).

"Who is this young woman?"

"My wife … so she claims."

Yuuji raised a curious eyebrow as he opened up his case. His hands running over the labels of the vials and bottles.

"I see. Well, I hope they didn't treat you too roughly. Now let's see if we can get you to spill the truth."

Yuuji hummed to himself before finding a small vial with clear liquid inside. He shook the vial before pushing his palm through the gaps of the bars. (Y/N) blankly stared at the vial before snapping back to the surprisingly kind expression on Yuuji's face.

"Hey, whatever your name is, drink this vial if you want to show you're innocent."

(Y/N) was hesitant to take the vial but Yuuji pushed his hand further.

"It's a truth serum-"

A relieved sigh left her lips as she snatched the vial to drink the entire contents. Yuuji was impressed by her eagerness as he crossed his legs.

"Right, who are you?"

"My name is (Y/N) Inumaki and I'm Lady Yorozu's handmaiden."

"Okay, (Y/N), how did you become Choso's wife?"

"A month ago, Viscount Itadori sent a proposal to Duke Kenjaku about proposing to his daughter. The Duke was outraged. But he couldn't refuse the proposal seeing it would make him look bad in the noble society. So he made me take Lady Yorozu’s place and proceed with the wedding."

Fushiguro, Tsukumo and Nanami shared a nervous glance but Choso remained stoic to delve further into the truth.

"How did you know the Duke reacted like this?"

"I overheard him complaining to Lord Zenin of Chaycor. It was he who then came up with the idea to use me as a scapegoat so that the Duke could save face in the aristocracy."

"Why did you agree?"

"It wasn't by choice. He threatened to kill my brother if I didn't comply. He didn't care what happened if Viscount Itadori found out my true identity. He said that I would have to pay the price, which I am now."

Everyone else's nerves dissipated into concern over the young troubled woman. They were sympathetic to the fact that she had no choice. Even Choso felt sorry for the young woman as he still couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. He decided to ask the next question.

"Where is Lady Yorozu?"

"She is in Jotron. She is staying there so she could persuade the Emperor to marry her."

“Does she know about this?”

“She does.”

Choso’s expression became more grim and grave at (Y/N)’s answers. Almost as if he didn’t like the truth that was being spoken. (Y/N) was surprised that the truth serum didn't bring out the fact that she was transported into this world. Yuuji clapped his hands and stood up to brush the creases off his clothes.

“Right. Now that the interrogation is over, can we let her out?”

“No, I need you to do one more thing.”

Yuuji dropped his hands and grunted to himself about getting back at his older brother, Choso. Once again crouching by his case and lifting out a pouch. He pulled the strings and poured red powder out onto the palm of his hand. He turned to the cell doors with an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry (Y/N) but I have to do this.”

Before she could ask, he blew the powder right onto her face which had her bring her hands up in defence. The powder was ingested into her nose and sticking to her arms and face. Everyone stood still in anticipation as the red powder clung onto (Y/N)’s skin. (Y/N) slowly dropped her hands to also see what the red powder could do. Minutes passed but nothing seemed to happen.

Choso was confused as he gestured his dagger at (Y/N).

“Why is nothing happening?”

“Probably because she has no magic running through her veins and the truth serum worked just fine. Now! Can we take this woman out of the cell and get her washed up?”

Choso hesitated but Tsukumo stepped forward to justify.

“She’s innocent. She’s not the one to punish. Duke Kenjaku is.”

(Y/N) waited with an unsteady breath as Choso exhaled in surender. Tsukumo was right but Choso didn’t want to admit that he had made a mistake. He took a better look at (Y/N) and felt guilty at the way he treated her but he couldn’t trust her. She could have opened up to him before instead of just when they were about to - Choso shook his head and sheathed his dagger, ordering his subordinates.

“Nanami, get her set up in one of the bedrooms and send a maid to help her wash up. Fushiguro take her to the room. Tsukumo, you help Yuuji take the case to his quarters. I will deal with the rest in the morning.”

With that said, Choso stalked away and left the dungeon. Yuuji grinned and gestured to Tsukumo to lift the heavy case. He spun around to face (Y/N).

“(Y/N) sleep well, and I will meet you for breakfast tomorrow.”

Yuuji then turned away and skipped up the stairs followed by Tsukumo who didn’t seem to be struggling with the case. Fushiguro grabbed the cell keys and unlocked the door, stepping in to hold a hand out to (Y/N), an apologetic smile on his face.

“Apologies my Lady.”

(Y/N) took the offered hand and stood up carefully.

“It’s okay, Sir. I’m the one at fault for deceiving all of you.”

The two of them stepped out of the cell, whilst Nanami stepped forward to sympathise with (Y/N).

“My Lady, you should not apologise. You were simply coerced into conducting the Duke's acts. You were doing your job as a servant."

(Y/N) gave a soft smile to the two of them, glad they were able to forgive and accept her quickly. She hoped that her husband would do the same. That's what he is now. She couldn't get angry at him for the way he had treated her, she could have reacted the same as well. She straightened her posture to follow Fushiguro and Nanami. They were walking through the hallway to get to Lady (Y/N)’s room.

She hugged herself closely as the cold air hit her arms. So far she was following the plot exactly, which was not good because it meant that she and Choso were going to die. She decided to ask one of the two men.

"Sir, what's going to happen now?"

The two of them stopped, staring at each other with unease. Fushiguro turned back to glance at the Lady of the house.

"I'm not sure my Lady. However, I do know that he would not leave you stranded."

"I see. Also why do you address me as 'Lady'? I'm not a noble, I'm just a servant."

Nanami adjusted his sleeves as he addressed (Y/N)'s concern.

"Whilst you may not be a noble by birth, you have become a noble through marriage. It is only right that we address you as Lady."

"Would Viscount Itadori see me as a Lady and his wife?"

Nanami and Fushiguro were unsure of what to say. They knew that Choso would take a long time to get around to (Y/N). However, this betrayal seemed to cut him deeper. Nanami wanted to be realistic but Fushiguro cut in with an optimistic attitude.

"With time he will."

(Y/N) accepted this and both men exhaled with relief. It wasn't long when Nanami finally reached one of the guest rooms, opening the door to a modest sized room. The moonlight was bright enough to make the room clear and visible. Similar arches on the wall with a cream and pale green coloured embellishments. The bed was not a four poster bed but had similar duvets to the other room.

"This will be your room, my Lady. Bear with me a moment as I will fetch a maid for you."

Nanami was about to turn around, when (Y/N) grabbed onto his wrist to stop him going. Fushiguro quirked an amused eyebrow at the fact that (Y/N) had grabbed onto Nanami whereas the said man was in shock at the sudden contact.

"Nanami, please. Don't worry about fetching a maid. I can bathe and dress myself just fine."

(Y/N) let go of his wrist as both men clear their throats to face her. The head housekeeper took a deep breath as he tried to speak.

"But my Lady-"

"Please. I just want to be by myself."

Nanami's tired heart faltered as he exhaled deeply and agreed to her request. Both men excused themselves to let (Y/N) get cleaned up as she opened a door next to the bed to unveil a bathroom. The bath pool was on a raised dais, the taps were on the left as she pushed both of them down to let a mixture of hot and cold water fill the tub. There was a small trolley just before the bath, it had a variety of trays with dried flowers of lavender, honeysuckle and lilies. She lifted the tray of lilies and poured it into the bath, turning off the taps and undressing herself whilst the flowers steeped in the water.

As she sat in the bath, she all but hoped that Choso would allow her to stay. She did not want to create a chain of events that brought hers and Choso’s death early. When she read the story, it ended really poorly with the reader dying to a dream of Choso in her arms. This time she was going to change things where she earnt his love and did whatever she could to prevent their deaths.

[ianthewife]

ok girl. pitch me the silt verses. why should i listen to it. go crazy.

(i trust you because in your other hand you have tlt.)

yippee time to yap about my favorite audio drama, okay okay okay listen so the silt verses are a completed audio-drama (3 seasons, 45 episodes (i myself am on ep. 34 rn)) that starts with two cultists, Sister Carpenter (all-around tired, angry at the world, was born into the church but is losing her faith rn) and Brother Faulkner (a young convert who believes fervently and perhaps thinks himself a prophet) on a road trip— i mean a holy pilgrimage. Cause they are both followers of an illegal river god. And yes this modernish world is chuck full of gods who have a direct influence on the world, and the government basically decides who it is legal to worship or not. The worship in question involves chill and casual human sacrifices and horrific transfigurations (if you like body horror, this is the podcast for u). In fact in the setting people design, develop, commercialize and weaponize gods all the fucking time, so really interesting world-building stuff, seriously i love it here. Not gonna go into the plot progression, but it starts out great and gets better and better with every season, i am on season 3 and just constantly blown away.

The writing all in all is really spectacular, sound design is top notch, voice acting is straight up Insane, like there is quality!! Character interactions are to die for, seriously very dynamic, very entertaining. Btw if you love complicated messy very true sibling dynamics, set up camp right here. Also id say pretty good and fun balance between grim tones of a greek tragedy waiting to happen and insanely funny moments and situations (though im in season 3 and it’s mostly grim somebody send help). And the themes!! The themes! The interconnection between hopelessness and hope, the painful difference between a faith and a religion, horrors of capitalism, tragedy and stupidity of war and sm other good stuff. Character cast grows w the progression of the story, we see different places, different perspectives, so really a lot to dig your teeth into, can recommend!!

Also diversity win! We have an aromantic legend of the cult who is trying so so hard to divorce god, our doomed false prophet of the river is trans, there is a transwoman who is basically jesus if jesus went from marketing job to anarchism, and we have non-binary people from politicians to cultists to literal god-killers—

To a normal person id make a little disclaimer that it might be a bit disorienting a couple of first episodes cause there isnt much exposition from the top but as for a fellow tlt fan i know you have nothing to fear, we went through so much more confusing things during harrow and nona the ninth…

So if you do decide to give it a listen, plsss tell me what you think, tlt is my Favorite Thing Ever and tsv is my Also Favorite Thing Ever

[kotegiris]

[Event Story] 1st Anniversary -Butler's Prayers-

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Chapter 5: Zepal the Butler

Opens

Muu: Heh~ So this is the eastern church.

Muu: Feels a bit different from the central church!

> Yeah

Muu: Ah! Over there are Lato-san and Flure-san!

Flure: Huh? Aruji-sama and Muu too…

Flure: Are you two here to pray?

Muu: Yes! Aruji-sama and I will be joining the ritual!

> Please let us pray with you

Flure: I knew it!

Flure: Thank you, Aruji-sama. I’m very happy to hear that.

Lato: Hm… So Aruji-sama will be joining us.

Lato: I’m glad. Everything is more fun with Aruji-sama.

Muu: Huh? By the way, I don’t see Miyaji.

Muu: We were told that all the basement floor butlers were here…

Flure: Huh? Uhm, Miyaji-sensei is…

Flure: He’s preparing for the ritual somewhere else right now. He should be here soon.

Lato: Oh? But…

Flure: (Shh! You don’t need to mention that something happened with Lucas-san…)

Flure: (If you tell them, you’ll just make Aruji-sama worry…)

Lato: Ah, I see. I understand.

Muu: ? What are you talking about?

Flure: N-Nothing!

Flure: Anyways, Muu, could you help lay out the offerings?

Muu: Yes! So we’re giving offerings at this church too!

Muu: Huh? But these offerings…

Muu: Is this an outfit…?

> You’re giving an outfit as an offering?

Flure: Yeah.

Flure: Actually… This is a gift for a friend who was also a basement floor butler…

Muu: A friend… So you two knew him?

Flure: Yeah. He passed away before you and Aruji-sama came to the mansion…

Flure: But… I’m sure you’ve at least heard his name before, right?

Flure: It’s Zepal-san…

> Now that you mention it… > Who was that again…

Muu: Ah! I remember now.

Muu: I think we heard about him during the “Grim Reaper Incident”... 

Lato: Yeah… So you still remember.

Lato: That was the incident where the angels dug up his grave and stole his corpse…

> From that time…

Muu: But.. Why are you gifting him an outfit?

Flure: That’s because…

Flure: Before me, Zepal-san was the one in charge of outfits.

Muu: Huh!? Really?

Flure: Yeah. Zepal-san’s sewing skills were way better than mine…

Flure: Until then, I taught myself how to sew, but he taught me professional techniques.

Flure: My current skill level is thanks to him.

> I see…

Lato: And he was a pretty strong butler too…

Lato: Flure really admired Zepal-san…

Flure: Y-Yeah…

Flure: To me, he was my number one role model.

Flure: But then… Two years ago, he died fighting angels…

Flure: And now… It’s not just his life the angels took…

Flure: They’ve taken his body too…

Flure: I’ll never forgive them… I’ll definitely get it back…

> Flure…

Lato: Hm… I do wonder what they’re doing with his corpse…

Lato: But… We don’t even know where they’ve taken it.

Lato: I’m sure it’s in their stronghold…

Lato: Maybe it’s somewhere in the Ancient Towers?

Lato: If you’d like, Flure, should the two of us go look for it now?

Muu: WHAT!?

Muu: L-Lato-san… That’s too dangerous…

Flure: Yeah… I agree.

Flure: Honestly, I want to get his body back as soon as possible, but…

Flure: With my current strength, I’ll only get taken out.

Flure: I’m still weak… I have to get stronger.

Flure: I have to hurry up and get stronger… And take back Zepal-san’s body with my own hands…

Muu: Flure-san…

Lato: Hm…

Lato: You’ve changed, Flure.

Lato: Before, you used to just lament over your lack of strength, but…

Lato: Now you’ve accepted it and are working to become stronger.

Flure: T-That’s…

Flure: It’s true that the old me was even weaker.

Flure: Especially when I first became a Devil Butler…

Flure: Honestly, I thought I’d die quickly.

Flure: I thought that Devil’s Palace was a strict and brutal place and…

Flure: I thought that the Devil Butlers were terrifying…

Flure: Diving into a world like that… I thought that someone like me would get taken out immediately.

Flure: But… When I became a Devil Butler…

Flure: Everyone kindly welcomed someone as weak as me…

Flure: They protected me, so I didn’t die.

Flure: As friends, they looked after me.

Flure: I wanted to get stronger for their sake…

Flure: I wanted the strength to protect my friends, but…

Flure: I couldn’t protect my precious friend… I couldn’t protect Zepal-san…

> Flure…

Flure: I was really depressed then…

Flure: I gave up on getting stronger…

Flure: But then… Aruji-sama came to the mansion…

Flure: And once again… You awakened the desire within me to become stronger.

> Me…?

[mthollowell-writes]

Writeblr Introduction: Hello!

About Me:

Hello! My name is MT (she/her) and this is my writeblr!

I write speculative fiction with a bent towards horror and the strange, though I love experimenting with other genres every so often.

My themes and topics tends towards the fantastical and the existential. Monsters, mysteries, and histories are my bread and butter with dashes of "humor." The quotations are an urge to take that assertion with a grain of salt.

Other things that often crop up in relation to writing is my love of music, science, and nature (especially plants, birds, and mycology)

General Housekeeping

Below the cut you will find information about all my WIPs, past and present. This will be updated periodically!

But first, some quick bullets

To start off, I should state all my writing (esp longer pieces) will be posted on my website: mthollowell.com . Alongside my fiction, you'll also find book reviews and other writing related musings.

All my writing updates will be under #mt writes. This includes snippets, blurbs, tag games, writing challenges, and the like

I read a lot, all over, so all book things can be found under the #mt reads tag

This is my writing sideblog. I follow back with @missaddledmiss

And if you like my stories and are able, you can drop a few pennies into my Kofi account!

Long Term Projects

Festival of Shadows/Supernatural Mystery, Horror, Thriller During the Hollow Grove's infamous Founder Festival, reporter Mariela Hudson seeks to uncover a five year mystery that involves a cult, a mysterious ritual that ended in a deadly fire, and a missing woman whose relationship with both is still shrouded in shadows. All the while, a monster waits. WIP Introduction /// Excepts under #festivalwip

Grim Lore WIP/ Supernatural Mystery, Horror Sebastian Calderon accepts a job in a new town called Hollow Grove that's setting up roots in the wilderness on the promise of land and some cash in his pocket. But not everything is as it seems and the price he pays for his labor may be too steep.

Hollow Grove Stories/Speculative Fiction, Horror, "Humor" A collection of shorts about the various characters in Hollow Grove often set during its contemporary timeline (circa 2016-2017). Mischief and terror abound. Stories under #hollow grove stories

Divided Loyalties WIP/ Fantasy, Adventure, Romance Kalon is a prince of a fallen empire seeking vengence against its conquerer, Satomi Satinos, the bandit king. In order to do that, he infiltrates his kingdom in hope of slaying the source of his power, the great dragon Raylene. But in his quest, he unwittingly falls in love with the bandit king's daughter, Uraya, and uncovers a conspiracy that threatens to break the whole of their world.

Story 1 WIP/ Fantasy, Action Adventure, Coming of Age Haru is a young prisoner of a never-ending war that spans multiple worlds. He makes his living at the forge, but his daily life is interrupted when a guard is found dead and he's accused of the murder. As he awaits his execution, he's offered a chance of escape by a man who brings him to another world. He tries to keep a low profile and his new powers in check, so he doesn't attract the attention of the guards tracking them. When he runs into a group of kids in this strange new world, colloquially known as Earth, he opens their mind to all the worlds hidden around them. (Called Story 1 since its the first comprehensive story I've ever come up with yet I cannot think of a better title)

Shorter Projects (Last Updated November 2024):

31 Days of Horror 2024: A collection of stories I made for a 2024 October horror challenge

Escape from Gallow Lane: A Hollow Grove Story Local Hollow Grove reporters Mariela and Emery find themselves on the wrong side of the law, and things somehow get worse from there.

Hanging on the Telephone: A Hollow Grove After a seance in the basement of the Edelhaus Church goes awry and cuts off the WIFI across the county, Mariela Hudson tries her luck with the old tech of yesteryear with her dad’s old dial-up computer.

[chibishortdeath]

I actually really like the messed up skeleton Dracula design, it conveys that he’s not at full power yet pretty well :3. More explanations and two unfinished doodles under a cut—

Close up on Drac’s upper half cause the drawing was way too big for one photo of it. Something that I noticed while staring at his sprite for a while is that he’s probably not wearing a hood, but chainmail armor with a helmet on top :O!

Entire page view to get all the Dracula in frame lol. His armor isn’t falling off btw, everything is rising into place from the altar. Hopefully he’s not too gorey for general tags uhhh yeah d(TwT ).

This is him when he’s done coming together. He’s still not fully powerful or physically all there yet, but it’s just enough to be able to troll Simon at the end 💀💀💀. Anyway yeah he’s totally me when my arch nemesis doesn’t find my teeth and accidentally summons me before I’m ready lol.

Simon is literally so fun to just put in poses. He is almost always my model for drawing poses because his big thighs kinda force you to make his pose even more exaggerated to get the same amount of open space and ratio of things— yeah idk it’s fun. He’s also allowed to have some sass sometimes I think. Fun fact! I didn’t use a reference for these :3. I’m so proud! Angles like this are usually hard!!! Oh and rare family heirloom sword moment. I’m taking this as a nod to the recent Haunted Castle remake now, which was so out of no where like (*o* ). I’ll take it!!! Simon game!!! A win!!! Hopefully the next collection they put out has Adventure Rebirth in it X3.

Simon but he is staring at you with the saddest pouty wet cat eyes. Tbh I think this general kinda neutral/resting sad expression is what I draw him with the most.

Which is why I also tried drawing him with other expressions!!!!!! In this one he is surprised and awkwardly responding to being told something so negative it’s almost comedic 💀💀💀. I was imagining the one town in Simon’s Quest with some bangers like “after Castlevania I told you never to return” and “you’ve upset the people now get out of town” X,,,,,D. He’s a little taken aback and was gonna try to defend himself, but he just leaves anxiously.

Please imagine that in this one he is saying that one meme that goes “it is hot as hell in this fucking ass hot ass room I’m in… IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER⁉️⁉️⁉️”.

Yay! Putting him on furniture for background practice!!! He is sitting on a church pew, having a couple micro sleeps cause he’s sleep deprived. He may fall off cause that armor is a little too heavy when sitting down I’d imagine.

These last two are for the images below. First one is just him kinda tweakin idk, he’s been awake too long and seen too much, somebody direct him to the nearest church, bro needs rest 💀. His hand shaking reminds me tho, a couple days ago I played the jojo fighting game so hard I had to put ice on my hand 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀. It SUUUCKED like take it from me don’t play as Polnareff in story mode if you’ve already been playing for a long time ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

This one is just general anatomy practice, just doodling his proportions to keep the skill of being able to draw them d(^^ ). I ended up really liking how I drew his hair in this one though, it’s cute :3.

[goblingaius]

i need platonic fanfics of these scrumptious scoundrels.

give me raphaniel and colin over the years reluctantly starting to care for each other where colin watched over this elderly radish who ages further than time itself and descends into madness. give me raphaniel taking in just some cheese guy who he was once obsessed with and is now relying on as his one truth in his own web of lies. give me both of them following each other around where colin becomes his sword and raphaniel becoming his shield as bulbian church authority but also ensuring that it falls in line with their motives/morals. give me colin caring for the shadow of a man who may have been elderly but was as cunning as a fox and eloquence that could convince anyone he was harmless. give me raphaniel in his sobering moments bestows upon colin life lessons that he had gathered over his lifetime, moments where colin could see the radish who was once a bishop for a good reason. give me raphaniel and colin growing dependent on the other as the war rages on.

give me amangeaux escaping with her baby and a newfound determination born from the grim realisation of what she helped unleash. give me amangeaux deciding to isolate herself while studying for the knowledge that she needed back then and needed it now more than ever and also raising a child as a single mother. give me amangeaux coming to the realisation of what she needed to give up, of what she needs to happen for this child of hers to grow up safely. give me amangeaux for the moving on her own for the first time instead of depending on the bishop and karna for advice/action as she used to. give me amangeaux raising her child on stories of the house of uvano, of gustavo uvano himself, and then baring herself to gustavo with her secrets and her worth and all that she can give, and gustavo uvano sees her none of the woman who once clung to her title as queen and sees a woman is determined to set things right in the world her child will grow up in.

give me karna and deli, who have been abandoned by the people they were close with, attach to each other, filling up the spaces that they once had for certain people. give me karna encouraging deli's traits, even the toxic ones, and making herself useful to him with the underlying fear that he could leave her and ruin her work just like amangeaux did. give me trying to become the leader that karna needs and fighting on the battlefields (both physical and political) with the underlying fear that she could leave him if he wasnt good enough just like colin did. give me karna and deli bonding over their views on killing innocents as they did for queen pamela rocks. give me karna and deli trusting each other but thinking that theyre still at baseline trust because all they have been doing for each other are transactions and thats where their trust ends. give me karna and deli acknowledging their mutual attraction but never taking the step because it will be a weakness for them and they dont trust the other to not take advantage it and they arent ready for that level of trust.

give me fanfics of their years fleshed out in writing, because i sure dont have the skills to do that.

[yourlokalescholar]

Don’t usually do stories on here, but saw this prompt and felt inspired. Constructive criticism welcome <:

Cinderella huffed through gritted teeth, scrubbing furiously at this most recent stain on the tile; there seemed to be more every day. Actually, it wouldn’t surprise her if her stepsisters spilled food on purpose to spite her. That sounded like them.

She thrust the brush into the soap bucket, splashing water all over the floor and soaking her dress. It hardly mattered anyway: her stepmother and stepsisters were enjoying themselves at the royal ball, and probably wouldn’t be back all night. Probably be too hungover to get up ‘till the afternoon too, Cinderella thought with grim pleasure.

She sighed and sat back, the stain finally gone. She looked around at the rest of the floor, assessing how much work she needed to do before tomorrow.

Good lord.

Right. Now seemed a good time for a break. She dropped the brush on the floor and stood up, cracking her back. She wiped her hands on her apron and made her way outside, still barefoot.

Cinderella took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the fresh air and the coolness of it on her skin, soothing her exhausted muscles. Leaning her back against the wall, she closed her eyes and imagined she was anywhere else. It was the perfect night for a ball; midwinter evening, but surprisingly warm, the stars bright and clearly visible in the cloudless sky.

“It is a lovely night, isn’t it?” A voice said from beside her.

Cinderella startled, eyes snapping open and head snapping to the side. Standing next to her was a woman. Or… perhaps it was a younger girl. No, she was sure it was a woman. Older than her, perhaps in her twenties, or seventies. The woman grinned at her obvious confusion.

Cinderella remembered her manners. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. Your dress is lovely.” It wasn’t a lie: she was wearing a gorgeous, deep green ball gown, with a flowing train made of translucent fabric that seemed to fade to nothing. Over her shoulders was what looked to be a cloak of iridescent, black feathers.

The woman looked pleased. “I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your manners. That’s something I’ve always liked about you.”

Cinderella was quickly growing uneasy, wondering if this woman was older than she looked, and perhaps going senile. Though, now that she’d mentioned it, she did think the woman looked inexplicably familiar.

Tilting her head, the strange woman spoke again with exaggerated surprise, a wide grin still plastered on her face, as if she’d forgotten she had to move her mouth when she changed facial expressions. “Do you not recognise me, dear? I suppose it has been a while since we last spoke.”

The girl tried for a politely apologetic expression, shaking her head.

The woman smiled even wider. “I am your godmother; it’s my job to make sure your life is going as well as I can make it.”

Now, most young ladies might be frightened or concerned by this statement. Cinderella, however, felt that it explained quite a bit about her childhood; namely, all of her faint memories about an old woman that taught her numbers and read her bedtime stories when she was small. And by god did she need someone to fix her life.

She matched the woman’s grin. “I do remember you,” she tilted her head thoughtfully, mimicking her earlier motion. “Partially, at least. May I have your name?”

Her godmother’s eyes crinkled with genuine mirth, and her head snapped back as she let out a laugh like church bells.

“Good! You remember me. I’m glad to see living with that infernal stepmother of yours has not wrung all of the wits out of you,” she said. “And to answer your question, although I’m sure you already know what I’m going to say, you may refer to me as ‘Godmother’.”

Godmother clapped her hands once. “Now, Cinderella, if you still want to get to that ball, we’d better get to work right away. Unless you intend to show up dressed like that?”

Cinderella looked down at her stained, grey rags, still soaked with dirty water, and shook her head. “What did you have in mind?”

Her godmother frowned. “Now, dear. You’ve spent enough of your life being told what to do; I think you’ve earned the rights to some autonomy. What do YOU want?”

Cinderella’s face broke into a genuine smile for possibly the first time since her father died.

“What do you think will piss off my stepfamily the most?”

Her godmother grinned mischievously, her wings unfurling behind her.

***

The prince snarled as he slashed at what was left of the training dummy. The remaining hunk of leather finally collapsed to the floor, and he stood over it, panting.

He felt a little better.

“Reginald Charming Peaseblossom!” A furious voice boomed from behind him.

Reginald flinched, but stubbornly refused to turn around.

“You are to turn and face me this instant, young man,” She said, deathly calm.

The prince took a deep breath, making the most of the last few moments of his life, then turned to face his mother.

The woman in front of him was a few inches shorter than he was, with snow-white hair standing out shockingly against her ebony skin. She wore a deep purple and lilac dress with golden accents, and her arms and neck were all but covered by heavy gold jewellery. Hung over one of her arms was what looked to be a wine-red suit, which looked almost as bedazzled as her own dress. Reginald chose to focus on her clothing to avoid looking at the stony face she was surely wearing.

“Yes, mother?” He asked, still breathing heavily. It came out more feebly than he’d intended.

The queen took a deep breath, and it looked like it took all of her strength to keep her expression cold and neutral (it was unbecoming for royalty to show emotion in the company of others, the prince remembered from his many lessons in etiquette). She stepped towards her son and shoved the suit at him, the extravagant garnishes jingling.

“You’re lucky there’s no time to punish you. Put this on quickly- I will be making sure it’s done properly- then head straight to the ballroom. Guests are already arriving. We will discuss your tardiness after the ball.”

“Yes, mother,” Reginald replied. Then, feeling bold, he added, “But don’t expect me to find a suitor. I am certain that none of the guests-“

“One of our guests will take your fancy,” his mother’s voice was more angry than he’d ever heard it, but her face was blank as always. “Otherwise, your father and I will choose a bride for you.”

The prince stiffened. He didn’t know why he still tried to defy her. He knew all it would do was get him into more trouble.

“Yes, mother.”

He turned smoothly, walking away with his head held high and his suit folded neatly over one arm, as he’d been taught. He deflated the moment he was out of the queen’s sight, relaxing his posture and breaking into a jog. If he hurried, he could wash quickly and be ready without making his mother much more angry. He didn’t want to attract the attention of any possible suitors, of course, but he wasn’t an animal.

Or perhaps he was just looking for an excuse to avoid the ball for a bit longer. He’d probably regret that later.

Once he’d reached his room (slamming the door and locking it behind him), he let out a sigh that hurt his throat with its force. He wanted to scream and throw something across the room in anger, but knew he didn’t have time for any more dramatics.

Instead, Reginald stalked over to his closet and threw the doors open, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He held the suit in front of him, and saw with disgust that it looked fantastic.

As he’d noticed before, it was a deep, wine red, the buttons apparently made of gold. It was paired with a white poet shirt to wear underneath. Reginald’s dreadlocks were tied back in a short ponytail at that moment, but he knew if he let them down and added some golden strings and ribbons, maybe a pair of gold earrings as well, it would compliment the gold on the suit perfectly.

The already unhappy face in the mirror contorted into a scowl as the boy realised that his mother, as usual, was right.

***

Cinderella tried her best to look like a noble as she hitched up her skirts and stepped daintily down from her carriage-that-had-been-a-pumpkin. Actually, she had to move daintily, because her shoes were made of brittle glass (it was A Look, okay? She was a trendsetter).

She looked back at her godmother, who’d been sat besides her on the drive there. The fairy was stepping down after her, leaving her long train trailing behind her into the carriage. She offered her goddaughter an encouraging smile.

“You’re going to be great, dear,” she told Cinderella. “Go have fun. I’ll be here, even if you can’t see me.”

Cinderella smiled back. “Th- I’m grateful, Godmother. And I’m very glad for all of these gifts.”

With a knowing grin, the woman gave a final curtsy, and was gone in a gust of wind and a fluttering of fabric and feathers.

Cinderella took a deep breath, straightening her posture. She nodded to the carriage driver, who squeaked in response. And without further ado, she turned to follow the rest of the party-goers into the castle, holding back a smile as she pretended not to see the heads that turned in her direction.

She was far and away the best dressed there.

Most of the crowd consisted of the more rich common folk- they were easy to distinguish from their extravagant skirts made of clearly cheap material- but a significant amount of them were actually nobility. Cinderella walked among lords, ladies, dukes, duchesses, counts, countesses- and her dress outshone them all.

She’d arrived at the same time as most of the other guests, right as the music was starting. A shy boy about her age in a striking orange suit caught her eye, and she sashayed over to him as the music crescendoed. He gaped at her, and she grinned at him and held out her hand, which he took tentatively. The girl laughed and pulled him to the dance floor, trying for a pirouette. Admittedly, she didn’t know how to dance, but this boy seemed too enraptured to tell.

She giggled girlishly, twirling from his arms a few songs later and into the arms of a young woman in a pale pink dress, who gripped her hands with no hesitation and danced with confidence and a lot more skill than Cinderella possessed.

She spent the better part of the next two hours dancing the night away, never staying with a partner for more than a song or two, but leaving them with an impression that would stick with them for the rest of her life, unbeknownst to her. She was aware of little beyond her dance partner and the eyes of her audience, for once not distasteful or reproachful, but admiring. Reverent, even.

She sometimes caught glimpses of deep green fabric and iridescent, black feathers, and she knew that her godmother was there with her, and Cinderella felt happy and safe for the first time she could remember clearly.

It was pure luck that the Prince of the Entire Bloody Kingdom found his way into her arms.

***

Reginald didn’t make a habit of staring at people. He knew it was impolite, plus most people weren’t interesting enough to warrant staring.

This girl, however…

Reginald knew what love felt like, in theory. He’d read plenty of books on the subject, and thought he’d probably be able to identify it if he ever fell in love with someone, unlikely as he found the notion. And he was sure this wasn’t it. Which begged the question: why couldn’t he look away from this girl?

Perhaps it was her clothing. Her dress was ocean-blue, with layers of skirts fading to a turquoise the colour of a tropical sea, the bottom skirts trailing behind her, rippling like waves. The hemline was raised in the front to just below her knees, and was lined with a translucent, white fabric that glittered like sea-foam and seemed impossibly light, as if it floated just above the ground. Her bodice was simple; the neckline and waistline were adorned with the same sea-foam-fabric, but other than that it was entirely plain- although Reginald swore that when the light hit it just so, it moved like the surface of the ocean from a mile above. Somehow, despite her ethereal dress, the prince felt the most striking part of her outfit was the shoes: they were made entirely of intricately-shaped glass, and yet were as pristine and flawless as they’d been when she’d arrived, despite being perhaps a centimetre thick at their strongest point.

It gave Reginald a petty sense of satisfaction to know that her simple outfit of a ball gown and slippers far outshone his mother’s intricate dress with twice its weight in gold jewellery.

But no, it wasn’t the outfit that drew the prince’s eye.

There was something about the way she moved, that he could no more explain than he could ignore. She clearly couldn’t dance, yet her movements were elegant, flowing smoothly like water in a stream. If he hadn’t spent so much of his life in dancing lessons, he’d probably think she was an expert. She seemed tireless, moving with the same unnerving enthusiasm she’d danced with all night, with an unfaltering grin stretching from ear to ear. Something about her reminded him of a dream, as if the colours of her clothes and skin and flowing hair couldn’t quite keep up with her, leaving afterimages in her wake.

It was like she was enchanted.

Reginald wanted to study her.

That was the real reason he joined the dance, and finally found himself with her a few hours later (the entire crowd was clustered around her, almost forming a solid wall).

He looked down at the girl, who looked back at him, face perfectly framed by her almost snow-white hair, and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Oh, wow. You’re beautiful.”

He immediately cringed. That… that had come out wrong. The girl raised her eyebrows, looking unimpressed.

“Thank you? But I’m really not interested… your highness.”

“Oh thank god,” the prince sighed, too relieved to be surprised.

The girl threw back her head and cackled, and Reginald realised in that same moment that that was also not a polite thing to say to a guest.

“Wowwww!” She said with mock-offence, twirling into a pirouette even though the song did not call for it at all. “I expected the prince to be a lot more polite.”

“No- I’m- I- I just meant- um…” he stuttered, to the girl’s visibly growing amusement. “Can we please start over?”

She laughed again, then broke away and dipped into a curtsey.

“Cinderella Fairchild, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Oh good, they were doing formal introductions. Reginald knew how to do those.

“Prince Reginald Charming Peaseblossom of Mythica, at your service.”

He held out a hand, raising an eyebrow. Cinderella took it and he pulled her into a more formal slow dance, this time to the beat of the music.

“So, what brings you to the ‘find the prince a wife’ party if you’re not planning to court the prince?” Reginald asked, starting to lead Cinderella to a more private corner.

“What brings you to the ‘find the prince a wife’ party if you’re not planning to find a wife?” Cinderella countered.

The prince grimaced. “This ball was… not my idea, to put it mildly.” (In truth, he’d been fighting against the plan for weeks) “I actually have no interest in romance. I’d be glad if I never found a wife, ever.”

Cinderella raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Would you rather a husband?”

She laughed at his scandalised expression, and he scrambled to defend himself (yet again).

“No- There’s nothing wrong with- I was just- I thought- You-“ he huffed. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you.”

“Yup!” She grinned, popping the p.

Reginald raised his eyebrows at her. “I notice you’re avoiding my question, Cinderella.”

She squinted at him and jutted out her jaw, like an annoyed child. “Well, if you must know, I’m busy having a good time and pissing off my stepfamily by showing them up and refusing to clean their house.”

The prince laughed. “Alright, valid. It seems neither of us have a happy family life.”

He twirled her around like a ballerina, even though the song playing at that moment was actually quite somber. Then he frowned, realising something.

“Hold on. Aren’t you a noblewoman? Why are you doing your family’s chores?”

She smiled secretively. “A noblewoman? Me? Why on Earth would you think that?”

Reginald took a step back and looked Cinderella up and down incredulously. “You’re telling me that you’re dressed like that… and. You’re not royalty?”

“Mmhm!” She tilted her head to the side as if she was looking at someone behind him, still wearing that secretive smile.

The prince raised an eyebrow, planting his hands hands on his hips. He continued to stare at her for a few seconds, before finally giving in and asking the question she was clearly waiting for.

“So how did you get the outfit then?”

“Oh, this? Just a gift from my godmother.”

“Mhm,” Reginald knew she was teasing him, but now he had to know what she was being so secretive about. “And where did your godmother get it?”

“She made it herself!” Then Cinderella gave him a smug smile. “She’s good with magic. Comes with being a fairy, I think.”

It took a few moments for the words to sink in, but when they did his mouth gaped so wide he thought his mother would crucify him if she were there. He didn’t for a moment consider that the girl might be lying: a fairy’s involvement would actually explain a lot of what he’d seen that night.

“Your godmother is a fairy? How… how did that even come about?” Somehow, that was the only question Reginald could think to ask.

Cinderella looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment, then she shrugged. “No clue, honestly. I’ll have to ask her when I get the chance.”

The prince chuckled and shook his head. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” At Cinderella’s questioning look, he elaborated. “I mean because of my heritage. My mother makes sure everyone we meet knows that my great-great-great-whatever grandmother was a fairy, and that I have ‘nature’s blessing’, or something like that. She would lose her MIND if she knew that a fairy’s goddaughter was at this ball.”

Cinderella giggled. “Maybe I should go introduce myself. How much do you think she’d pay if I told her I’d ensure calm seas and a bountiful harvest?”

The prince started to reply, then cut himself off abruptly. A grin slowly split his face, as he turned to face Cinderella fully.

“Just how badly do you want to get away from your stepfamily?”

She grimaced. “More than anything.”

“Enough to marry a man you just met?”

Her eyes widened, and a matching grin began to spread across her own face. “Perhaps.” Her face turned sly again. “Or, maybe not a man I just met. I’d have to know him for at least a few hours first…” she glanced through a window. “How long until midnight?”

Reginald also turned to look. “I’d say two hours. Why?”

“I wanna be dramatic about it. Might explain later.”

The prince found himself smiling wider at the girl’s obscurity, which he was quickly growing familiar with. “Well then. Might I offer you a tour of the gardens while we wait?”

Prince Reginald held out his hand once more, and Cinderella took it without hesitation.

[celiaelise]

So I am watching "Doctor Elise", (yes, mostly bc she has my name :p) an anime with a convoluted reincarnation/time travel premise which results in the main character as an 18th(???) century noblewoman in psuedo-Europe, with all the knowledge of a well-renowned 21st century Japanese surgeon. When she gets back to her "original" life, (Elise, from "Britia") she is determined to right all the wrongs she committed by being a spoiled rich teenager the first time around, AND to help as many people as possible by becoming a doctor in this lifetime, too.

This is an issue because the emperor, who appears to be a close family friend, REALLY wants her to marry his son instead of pursuing medicine. Also, she has to scramble for explanations for why she has medical knowledge and understanding that should be impossible for her.

And this is one of those times where you can really feel that this Western-adjacent setting is being written by people from another culture. (This also happened when I was watching "Emma: a Victorian Romance", and someone reassured a small child, "don't worry, the Grim Reaper isn't coming to get you; he isn't real! 😊" Like, death? Death isn't real and isn't coming for this child? He's an immortal child?? Anyway...) Because, to me, a westerner, there is such an obvious and correct answer!!!

Say it was God. These guys are absolutely neck-deep in Christianity, say it was God. Say God spoke to you directly, told you it is His will for you to heal people, and is feeding you answers to unsolvable medical riddles.

Sure, many people may not believe you at first, but since your knowledge and actions are backed up by Actual Science, eventually the results will speak for themselves. They cannot argue with you when you are genuinely saving lives in unprecedented ways AND the Church is on your side. (Which it would have to be, eventually, and given that she's already a noblewoman, they probably wouldn't even mind that much.)

This is also a very good way to explain your sudden personality change. Oh, I used to be vapid, belligerent, and somewhat evil, but now I'm considerate, caring, and intelligent? Simple, when God spoke to me, he showed me the error of my ways, and I've decided to listen to Him and change my behavior.

This could even get you out of a marriage, if you can get them to let you join a covent! But this anime is partly a romance, so that wouldn't really make sense for the story. 🙄

Anyway, it's a decent show, though I'm not a huge fan of the art style. But every episode I can't stop wishing she would use heavenly visions as a cover for her weirdness 🤷🏻‍♀️ (I actually don't think they've mentioned the Church at all, so maybe their universe doesn't even have Christianity?)

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Crown Jewel

We're skipping the discourse around this one. Ginny is Bonney's mother, Kuma's her daddy, and there's the potential of a half-Tenryubito bloodline which would explain a fair amount of leeway we've seen. Bonney is also only 12 years old. Love how it all fits well with her intro, do hate how grim Ginny's story ended up. But she kept that spark until the end, like the wrinkle of not wanting to be seen and trying to hide the pain. Out of respect for that we're not dwelling on the horrific circumstances of Bonney's conception.

I gotta say though, I was already wondering before that if film buff Oda wasn't striking again because Kuma's story of a humble guy weaving around big events was reminding me big time of Forrest Gump. If Wano was the Kabuki revue you'd pick and choose parts you care about...is Egghead a night at the movies? Sci-fi B movie vibes obviously. Then maybe these segments away are almost like, say going to the bathroom and catching a snippet of another. Hence missing parts of it. I'm rambling...

Absolutely adore the origin of the "jewelry" part of Jewelry Bonney. Both this cute scene and how the Sapphire Scale disease hearkens back to Thriller Bark. The core stakes of losing your shadow. Same with the origin of "If you could travel, where would you go?" In hindsight...I bet Perona reminded him of Bonney. It's also pertinent to point out they were at Sabaody around the same time. There's a lot to say about her after this chapter, starting with...

Bonney, welcome to the top tier of the blorbo rankings. How can I hate a chapter that gives me a feisty five-year-old flagrantly flipping the forbidden finger? Young Bonney you are so precious. Er...younger Bonney. So we don't just have the Sapphire Scales connection either. This chapter hits that running Egghead theme of callbacks so hard. I love this bit about calling her a vampire and brandishing a cross, especially with her flatly pointing out she lives in a church, but a lot of things honestly. Talking about wanting to see a Sky Island was nice.

We're gonna peel this one off for tomorrow, but there is one thing I do wanna note. Actually being 12 with a fruit like that is a different angle, but it has that fundamental thematic harmony with a quartermaster. Just like an elegant but lowkey scary big sister with an actress vibe, a bossy little sister with the infinite possibility of distorted futures suits bringing order and wearing many hats. Kiku's deal was being shown as legitimately good but not great at others'skills. The ultimate redundancy. Bonney is the blank slate. Strap in friendos, I have a lot to say on the matter over the next few days.

This is what I was thinking last week, the part that really gets there. The ability to just pop up at island after island is hellacious for a Revolutionary. Makes it easy to pull something like Sabo's simultaneous uprisings which is smart. Paralyzes a World Government that can step in it prioritizing the wrong ones. But yeah, Kuma goes on a tear after Ginny is taken. We get a great run of back-and-forth shots though between the hero and the doting father. Love that. He goes into a pit of despair, but the last remnant of Ginny becomes a reason to live again.

My guess is ultimately we'll see something like he agreed to the cyborg program at least partially because he could take on Bonney's disease himself. That would make sense for something. Kinda dig the theory Im suffers from Sapphire Scale. I know they said Bonney had a limited time but that may be because she'd already started to turn. Im if anyone has the resources to ensure you'd never encounter natural light and it'd be incredibly thematic. I will also laugh my ass off if we end up making the World Government functionally run by the Sohma Family from Fruits Basket. Sickly lil shut-in who was handed control for stupid reasons.

Hearken well, dear reader and don't look away. For what comes next is the tragedy of Sorbet. From priest to tyrant, from man to machine. A tragic tale who's end has already been seen.

Talk about callbacks, yeah this familiar nightmare reminds me a lot of Drum and Dressrosa. It is cool how Wano fits into that, a more benign version of reinstalling the ancient dynasty. This here is the perfect setting to shift us into the parts we already know a bit about. It'll be interesting to see what happens. Somewhere this kind pastor and loving father became known as a tyrant and he was referred to as King of Sorbet. We've only got a short window to cram in a lot of big things for Kuma. That said, could see us out of this by or in 1100. So a break and a big one-two punch?

[july-19th-club]

the one about the blue blanket that doesn't go away is very definitely ringing a bell in the back of my mind, but unfortunately i can't remember where i might have seen it. the other two stories don't seem familiar to me though, so maybe i saw that story in a different compilation? i grew up in the uk, in the 2000s, but that probably isn't very helpful. (have you tried asking on scifi stackexchange? i know they do story identification there, idk if they'd be helpful in this particular situation though)

no it makes sense that it might have been a UK publication bc as far as i recall the black dog story was a variation on the Church Grim, which is not really a thing in US folklore as far as i know, but of course for every single person of that general generation any older Grim stories got instantaneously swept out of the way by them damn wizard books lol . so we are probably thinking abt the same book

[queer-and-dear-books]

Title: Into The Light

Author: Mark Oshiro

Genre: Sci-fi? | Friendship | Romance | LGBTQ+

Content Warnings: Homophobia | Conversion Therapy | Abuse | Sexual Assault | Grooming

Overall Rating: 8.6/10

Personal Opinion: As always with Mark Oshiro, you can expect grim reality mixing with the most powerful kindness you’ve ever read about. This time, we venture into the world of a corrupt foster care system and grooming by religious zealots. It’s scary but absolutely worth reading about. Manny has been through hell. He lost his sister, he was abandoned, he’s been preyed on, but still he found some light in the form of a kind family, the Varelas. This journey that he takes us on is emotional and raw and it deserves to be brought into the light.

Do I Own This Book? Nope.

Spoilers Below For My Likes & Dislikes:

Likes:

- If nothing else, I found this very entertaining. The twist that Manny and Eli were once one and the same was pretty obvious but it was set up so well. Eli’s chapters were few and far in between at the start. He said he resembles Elena in his first chapter. And the big clue was when Carlos saw Eli in one of Deacon’s videos and thought it was Manny and yet Manny could not remember being in it. It’s wild. It’s crazy. Am I not entertained? I am. I thought it was some sort of repression or amnesia though, I was not anticipating Manny to have somehow split into two. That is so disturbing. I am so perturbed. It’s great.

- The kindness of the Varelas made me emotional at times. I mean, they were already living out of a van, driving around to find kids that were ejected from their church and providing all of them with means of living and I love that. But then they went out of their way to protect Manny, a stranger, from Stan, an old pervert. And then they proceeded to continue helping him for a whole month. I just love Monica and Ricardo so damn much. They protected Carlos too and I have so much respect for them. Even if they made their mistakes, they’re out here atoning in the best way possible.

- Manny’s reluctance to trust even the Varelas was totally reasonable. After everything he went through and after what he did to them (stealing their money and their son’s iPad), I get why he felt like he couldn’t stay with them. I’m glad that he changed and realized his sister was right about one thing. He does choose to be miserable. Not anymore. The ending, where he chose to be happy and chose Carlos’s family was just so sweet.

- Oh also, the other twist with Rakeem showing up in the end. Oh my god, for a second, I thought Rakeem was the dead body. I truly thought Eli was alive. It was written so well to make you think it was Rakeem because at this point, we had no idea Eli “came out” of Manny. We didn't know that supernatural shit was going on! So that twist was a gut punch and a great one.

- Manny having a crush on both Carlos and Ricardo is so hilarious and also so me-coded. I too would have a crush on my love interest and his dad. But the budding romance between Manny and Carlos was so sweet. I could feel the way they cared about each other in those little touches and night time conversations. And the way they could both relate to that feeling of abandonment but wanting to be close to each other anyway is so good. I love when touch-starved individuals find each other.

- It’s implied that Elena burns Reconciliation down to the ground and honestly? Good. I hope it never rises from the ashes again. I also hope that Deacon and the Sullivans had burned with it. God, they were so fucking creepy.

Dislikes:

- I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about the supernatural aspect of this story. I mean, it’s cool and unexpected, don’t get me wrong, but it also felt wildly out of place. It reads like a CreepyPasta. And it’s also sort of glossed over? No one really questions it. I mean, the proof is right there I guess but like still, it’s a wild supernatural occurrence in a non-supernatural setting.

- Fuck Deacon and Lester and Stan and anyone else who preys on the most vulnerable. Children. It was disgusting to read about but unfortunately very real. 

- I’m also so disturbed by Diana and Elena. Diana for basically being a bystander and giving kids away to Deacon’s families with no proper background checks. And Elena for falling for all of Deacon’s bullshit so easily. Yes, she is a victim in this too, but my god, the way she did everything the Thompsons asked of her without question was just bad.

- These are all necessary evils for the story to take place so I can give them all a pass. 

- I’m going to be honest (again), I expected so much worse from the conversion camp. Not that it wasn’t awful. Mrs. Thompson backhanding Rakeem in the face and Deacon reading their darkest secrets out loud was fucked up. But I think I was expecting things closer to torture because of the way Manny dodged so many of the Varelas’ questions and the way Carlos said, “They never should’ve done that to you. They never should’ve done that to me either.” I don’t know, I was just holding my breath for something horrendous and then when we saw what happened, it just… wasn’t so bad to me? Or wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Again, it is very bad. I was just bracing myself for the worst.

- Oh god, is Simone okay? I just realized she’s still with the man that raped her and forced her to get an abortion. Somebody save her because oh my god, I legit gagged at that. Well… at least Maddie and a few others are okay.

[weministertomonsters]

Piper And The Vampire

This (unfinished as per usual) story is 3.5k words long and heavily inspired by the Interview with The Vampire TV series, but whether that's obvious... Probably not.

─────────────── · · · · ✦

I was in a world of trouble that all began because one boy couldn't keep his damn mouth shut. But all stories have to start at the beginning if they are going to make any sense, so that's where we'll begin.

I was eleven when my father fell from his horse and got his head smashed in. He didn't last long, nobody can when your brain is turned to a pink pudding and won't stay in your head where it should be. I was the unlucky one who found him, and he was still moaning in the ditch with flies all buzzing around. I ran home, hollering the entire way.

"Mumma, it's Papa!" I yelled, crashing right into the kitchen.

She smacked her floury hands on her apron. "Where he at? Coming home from the bar? Still there and fighting again?"

"No, he's in the ditch. His head's all crumpled like a pumpkin someone forgot in the cellar."

She looked grim and vaguely sick like I had told her I'd found someone's cow sickening in the woods. "Good Lord help us," she said, picking up her skirt till I could see her brown shins.

She greased her legs and arms every morning with shea butter, and her skin shone as a result. She wasn't white-skinned and golden-haloed like the angels in the Big Church windows, but she was my angel. Tall, imperious, and often untouchable. Now she ran down the worn road leading from our cabin to the rest of the village. I followed her but she said over her shoulder, "Call the Doctor."

"I've already seen him, Mumma! Can't unsee that," I protested, eager to be a big girl.

"In case there's saving in him yet," she responded in a flurry of movement, disappearing down the hill.

Satisfied my Mumma wasn't trying to shield me from any perceived horror, I ran to get the Doctor. He didn't live far because, in such a small town, one person's backyard was another person's front yard. Even our house, which was considered "out of the way", was still visible from the middle of the town.

I could hear the Doctor say, "Geez, Louise, can't a man eat his supper in peace?" to his housekeeper as I thumped up the stairs and past the cocker spaniel on the porch and busted in through the grand blue door.

"The devil doesn't stop his deeds for anyone, Doctor Carney." She replied, sensible as always, turning to me. "Now, what's wrong Miss Piper?"

"My Papa's hurt real bad. I don't think he gon' make it but Mumma said I should call you," I heaved and gasped for air.

Despite complaining seconds ago, Doctor Carney practically flew off his chair with nothing but his case of medical things which was always within reach, looking like a hero in a comic book as he leaped on his horse that was also waiting in the yard at almost any given hour. I watched from the window, guilty about feeling excited. Or was it fear that tightened my ribcage and caused my heart to thrash in its cage of bone? I couldn't tell.

"A glass of water, Miss Piper? You look like you ran the whole way here."

I gulped down the water, relishing the slightly sweet taste. I thought it was almost as good as the stream early in the morning, the same cool and clean-tasting stuff.

"I should go back," I said but Mrs. Louise put a hand on my shoulder. "Now, how about you stay on? It's getting dark out there and I don't want you walking home alone."

I could tell it was because she didn't want me to see my father in his current state. I was going to tell her that I'd been the first to see him and there was no use keeping me but she brought a tall glass of milk and a plate laden with sticky brownies from the kitchen. I forgot to say thank you for the treat and that thought would keep me up for a long time later that night. When Doctor Carney came back, it was with a wagon borrowed from the Smiths and I knew this because of the streak of black going up one side. The oldest son of the Smiths had started a fire for fun and it got out of control and almost took the wagon with it.

My Mumma jumped out the back as soon as it stopped. She had been crying so it didn't take much else to know that my father hadn't made it. She wouldn't have cried otherwise. There my Papa was, tucked in the back of the wagon and wrapped in a musty sack. His shoes stuck out over the top because he was taller than the sack was wide.

"I'm sorry," Doctor Carney said awkwardly as he dismounted, and the way he said it made it unclear whether he was expressing sympathy or apologizing for wrapping my father in a feed sack.

"So, he's dead," I said somberly. "What we gon' do for bread now?"

Mrs. Louise looked a little appalled at that, glancing in uncertainty at my Mumma who laughed in an odd, wet way and hugged me tightly.

"It's the shock," she said. "She'll be bawling her eyes out tomorrow."

"I will not! I like my eyes," I retorted but my Mumma was already pulling me away.

"The wagon, Mrs. Maarten?" Doctor Carney said, showing up after he'd hauled my father off someplace.

The cellar perhaps; kids always rumored that the dead bodies shared the cellar with his milk, potatoes, and preserves because it was the only place cold enough to keep them for burial. No one else had a cellar or those that had one didn't want dead bodies in it.

"I'll come for the wagon tomorrow," she replied over her shoulder. "If the Smiths need it now, that's too bad."

"Are you sure walking alone in the dark is fine? We can always send the manservant along with you," Mrs. Louise called after us.

"It's not the works of man I'm afraid of but the work of the devil," Mumma retorted.

"Mumma, you making yourself sound weird," I complained.

"I've seen what happens in the dark and this ain't nothing yet, my dear," she responded.

That was my first hint that she thought something else other than a horse had happened to my father.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I had been right to worry about bread. As bad a father as mine had been, he at least brought a loaf of bread home when he came home from work. That way, even if we had nothing but stale bread and watery milk to go with it, we still had something to eat. Money doesn't come cheap and it doesn't grow on trees, so Mumma had to go and find work. The first week consisted of her leaving early in the morning, coming home worn to the bone, and shaking her head in defeat.

Right when the pantry was scraped clean and things were beginning to feel desperate, she came home on a Saturday evening with a strange glow in her eyes and a pocketful of cinnamon hard candy.

"I've got a job, Piper," she declared, dividing the candy between us. "Things gon' look up now."

"When do you start?" I asked.

"Monday and it'll be long hours. Will you be able to take care of yourself?"

"Heck, I've been cooking and cleaning since I was nine, Mumma. I can handle it. 'Sides, I'll be at school most of the day myself," I ducked the incoming swat for cussing and felt very grown up and independent.

The first week was a slow one. Mumma didn't get her first pay until Friday and had to buy from the general store on credit. She hated doing that and so she bought the absolute minimum; bread and milk. On Sundays, we might get invited to a friend's house for dinner, and there I would gorge myself on potatoes and chicken, and cornbread. After school, I had another three hours to pass before Mumma came home and I was left to my own devices. I'd usually play with the dolls I made of straw and old strips of cloth and eat doorstep-thick slices of chewy bread with a dollop from the last jar of preserves.

One day she came home with something all wrapped up. The pantry was now truly empty and all I'd had for breakfast was the end of the loaf with the last glass of milk. My stomach felt like it was turning inside out to start digesting my other organs.

"Did ya get a gift of potatoes from the Sir?" I asked excitedly, spotting the package. "We having potatoes for dinner?"

"Hush up. It ain't no potato. It's a baby." She gently pulled back the cloth so I could see what I'd thought was the tops of a bunch of potatoes was instead a skinny baby.

In light of my crushed hopes, I wasn't exactly welcoming. "Well, kinda looks like a potato to me."

"Piper. Mind your tongue now."

"But it does!" I insisted. "Brown and wrinkly and half-starved looking. Like a dud potato. How did you find a baby anyhow?"

"I ain't having your attitude today," she sighed and walked inside.

"It ain't attitude!" I hollered back, miffed but repentant. "I'm starving is all."

I knew I'd finished the milk that morning. What was she going to feed it? Was it her or him? I was too distracted by the dull thunder in my stomach to care. The baby began to cry and I sat on the porch and listened to Mumma try to hush it up, thinking of how hungry I was.

After a couple of minutes, I went inside. Mumma was changing the baby's diaper.

"It stinks in here," I announced.

"This poor thing was by the roadside in a saddle blanket," Mumma said in a hushed voice because she had finally got the baby to settle. "Hungry with a wet diaper. No one in sight. I have no idea what happened."

"So, what we gon' do for food? The baby needs to eat too."

"I got paid today. Would you run by the store? With any luck, Gran-Mae will still be open and you can buy us something. Two cans of milk for the baby and whatever else looks good for us. You just be sensible, okay? Don't come back with your pockets filled with nothing but candy," Mumma said.

I took the gold coins with a whistle and skipped out the door, biting down on one just like a shopkeeper who wanted to make sure their gold was real. For the six minutes or so it took me to get down the hill to the general store, I felt rich and pretended that I was heading down into town to buy a fine horse. Black with white socks, like Doctor Carney's horse.

Gran-Mae was on the small porch of her store, sweeping dirt out of the cracks in the floorboards with a short stick broom. She could bend well for her age and her backside pointing at me looked like the rump of a friendly cow.

"Gran-Mae? You still open?" I called.

"Now if it isn't Piper Maarten!" She hooted, straightening up and bracing her hand on her back. "I'm closing up, but you come on in."

She bustled through the doors she hadn't locked yet. Lucky that, because she had more than three padlocks on that door and it would have taken forever to open them up because they were all damaged by the rain and rustier than the gates of hell.

It was like stepping into a cluttered heaven that smelled of so many good, heavy scents. I sniffed as quietly as I could manage and caught scents of maple syrup and soap, brown sugar and earthy potatoes, and baby carrots. The oily block of cheese on the counter wafted enticingly in my face, so close I could just lean over and chomp into it.

But the real exciting part was Gran-Mae's candy jar. It had caramel twists and cubes of cinnamon hard candy and bulbs of cherry chew squished next to tacky peppermints, a chaotic jumble of colors that was a feast to my eyes.

Gran-Mae used to give free candy out to the kids, especially when they had gotten hurt. She had to stop when five-year-old Vernon Akson down the street figured jumping off the roof of his parent's barn last summer to get hurt bad would earn him a mountain of candy. Even Mumma and I could hear his screams and he never walked quite right after that.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"You come here, child, and I'll nail your head!" I growled. "What you been doing in the kitchen?"

"I ain't eating anything!" Willy yelled back, scampering to the porch and making a dash for the oak tree out front.

"Then why are the pie toppings lookin' skimpy?" I retorted. "Get outta the tree, Willy."

We ended up keeping the baby. Not sure how, but Mumma got a little extra money from the Sir to care for the brat. Maybe she asked. A little extra always goes a long way and with some candy, I was bribed into grudging acceptance of the baby who had quickly grown into the most impulsive, excitable seven-year-old I'd ever known. With Mumma working, I became a mother of sorts, something I didn't think I was cut out for.

At fifteen now, I was wiry and taller than most of the girls in my class and felt as much out of place with them as I looked. I could always hang with the boys though because even my skirts couldn't get in the way of my love of climbing. However, Sundays sure did. Dressed in my nicest brown skirt, there was no way I could go climbing after Willy without ripping it.

"Willy," I sighed. "We gon' be late if you carry on."

"You ain't whippin' me no more?" He asked hopefully, coltish limbs wrapped around the branch he was clinging to.

"Nah, there ain't enough time. Come down and get dressed. Mumma is gon' be here any moment with the Sir."

Willy shimmied down the trunk and thumped onto his feet. "Why is he coming anyway? I ain't never seen a Sir go to church."

"They do, they just go the big fancy one in the city yonder," I said as we went inside to wash up.

"Have you ever been to the city, Piper?" Willy asked, standing on an old apple crate to reach the wash basin so he could splash his face.

"Once, when I was real small, my Papa and I rode on his horse to the top of Windcreak Hill and I saw the city from there. It was half-dark and all the fancy lights were sparkling like fallen stars. Only got to see that once though, because afterward he started drinking and couldn't ride straight," I said, dragging the brush through my curls to try and force it all into a bun. "Then Mumma said I couldn't ride with him no more."

"Shame, I want to see the city too."

"It's nearly half an hour to Windcreak Hill on a horse. Your legs won't get you there and back in time for dinner even if you went at the lick of daylight," I said in what I figured was a kindly tone. "You need to wear a bow."

"But I wanna see the city!" Willy whined, enchanted by my description of it.

"When I get me a horse, I'll take you," I promised. "But only if you're good. Now let's find you a tie."

I went into the room he and Mumma shared to see if I could find one. Through the dusty window, I saw a fine carriage coming up the way. That had to be Mumma and the Sir.

My thoughts were interrupted by a splash and the splatter of water from the kitchen.

"What you did now?" I demanded, hurrying in.

"I was trying to brush my hair and the crate broke!" Willy said indignantly. "Wasn't my fault."

"At least you didn't tip everything in the basin," I mumbled, nudging him to the side and hastily throwing a dishcloth on the water. "We gotta go."

"But I'm bleeding," he fussed.

I checked his lip. "It ain't too bad. Suck it up."

Willy skipped out the door. "Come see, Piper! The Sir has a fine carriage horse," he said in his squeaky voice.

"Hush up or he'll hear you," I muttered.

The Sir came out first and offered a gloved hand to Mumma who took it graciously, trying not to titter. She looked mighty fine in her new silk dress and idly I wondered if she and the Sir were getting together or something. No way she bought that herself.

"Ready, children?" Mumma called.

The Sir stopped in front of us, his pink lips under his blond mustache dimpling into a small smile which slipped into a frown as he looked from me to Willy.

"Mon Dieu," he said. "Your lip."

"Banged it on the wash basin," Willy said, puffing up like he thought it was tough and cool to have a bloody lip.

"Most unfortunate," the Sir said, holding out his white handkerchief, which had a lacy edge just like a lady's handkerchief.

I groaned inwardly as Willy took it and smeared his blood and saliva on the cloth before trying to hand it back. The Sir laughed once and I snatched the cloth.

"I'll wash it and return it to you, Sir," I said with a curtsy.

"Oh, no need! I have plenty of those. Throw it away. Now, shall we?" He said, gesturing to the carriage.

In that high-up and big wheeled carriage, it didn't take long to get down to the church. Despite that, we were still a few minutes late, just enough that everyone was gathered in the churchyard and greeting each other.

"Nah," I said, shrinking back in my chair. "Everyone's gonna be looking."

"Piper," Mumma said, her eyes as brown as burnt brownies and her tone dry with a sharp warning edge.

Don't embarrass me in front of the Sir, her gaze said, it's an honor to sit in his carriage.

And it was, but all I was thinking about was how everyone would talk about us later. The girls at school would crowd around me asking questions and all the boys would make lame jokes. And the old folk would talk smack about Mumma over their Tuesday cards. Crickets, just the thought gave me a hot chill.

"You will never blend in, Piper. Best to learn that now," the Sir said bluntly, looking at me like he had guessed what I was thinking.

Looking at him straight on, I realized his hair came down to his shoulders, tucked coyly behind his ears to keep it from falling into his eyes. Something about him bugged me. Perhaps the hair or the way he sat, or his ability to deliver a rude line like that with a smile on his face. I rose to the challenge of that innocent smile.

"Neither will you, Sir. Respectfully saying, everyone is gonna talk about you and your fine horse and carriage and girly hair."

"Piper!" Mumma hissed.

The Sir laughed. "Let the girl speak, Marilyn. Honest opinions are so hard to come by these days."

"Marilyn? You call my Mumma by her first name? What's she to you?" I demanded.

Willy squirmed in his seat, impatient to get out and play.

I couldn't stand the Sir's lofty attitude and Mumma's cattle brand-hot gaze, so I threw the door open and stumbled out into the sunshine. I hadn't realized how dark the carriage had been with its draped windows.

"Now if it ain't the Maartens!" Pastor Wilkins said, walking towards us with his fat black Bible tucked under his arm.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the Sir, though. He just stood and stared, as I'd expected. I edged to the side and waited with bated breath to see what would happen. I hoped Pastor Wilkins would tell him to leave. The Sir smiled and tilted his head up to the sky for a moment.

"Such a sunny day isn't it? It surely livens the senses."

"Indeed," Pastor Wilkins drawled, having recovered from seeing a white Sir in his mainly dark-skinned congregation. "You from Gaines by any chance?"

"The grand city, yes of course," the Sir said. "Shall we?"

"Welcome to our little town, in that case," Pastor Wilkins said.

Then he walked inside with him and that was that. I arched my eyebrows. Somehow, that interaction had gone differently than I expected. I had been waiting for a polite but brutally suspicious Pastor Wilkins because I knew that man was like a guard dog around strangers, but Pastor Wilkins only seemed happy to have a rich Sir in his pews.

Disappointed, I drifted inside. Only later would I realize that the unquestioned acceptance of the Sir was just a precursor for what was to come.