#look at the poor girl. she didn't know what was ahead and she suffered so much

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Sometimes you just need to suffer an hallucination to get your shit together -Danny Words: 1,949 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Pray' -by Sam Smith

XLIV: Stupid Decisions Require Stupider Consequences

Ara concludes that she hates not only the cold but also the intense heat. The feeling of her clothes sticking to her body, and how every time she breathes it feels like she's inhaling steam.

"What was that with Hedge?" Ara nudges Frank's arm, the boy hasn't let their protector come along.

Frank makes a face. "You know his girlfriend?"

"Mellie?" Ara raises a brow. "Gods, yeah. Did something happen to her?"

"She's pregnant."

"No way!"

"Yeah," He sighs. "Ara, isn't it cruel to keep him around? It was bad enough before, but now..."

"Poor Hedge," the girl cleans the sweat off her brow. "He looked after me when I didn't have anything, I should return the favor."

Frank smiles. "He talks about you like a coach would talk about the students that grew up to be professional athletes."

Ara chuckles. "He's proud of me for all the wrong reasons."

The boy laughs tiredly, the heat is getting to him too. "I wouldn't be so sure..."

Nico stops and turns to the group. "From here, it gets tough."

"Sweet," Leo is sweaty, but he sounds okay. His time in Ogygia seems to have bettered his condition. "'Cause so far I've totally been pulling my punches."

"We'll see how long you keep your sense of humor," Nico scowls. "Remember, this is where pilgrims came to commune with dead ancestors. Underground, you may see things that are hard to look at, or hear voices trying to lead you astray in the tunnels. Frank, do you have the barley cakes?"

Ara's ancestors... does she have any? When she thinks about ancestry, she pictures her past lives. She doesn't know a thing about her current mortal lineage, and she's never talked to her dead loved ones, not even on accident.

That's why she always thought she was too unimportant for her death to matter—she isn't ending a bloodline that's lasted for centuries, it's just her. Nemesis's words are accurate, she doesn't see value in what she represents. 

Her sacrifices hold no weight in the eyes of immortals. For that to happen, Ara should hold onto something within her and love it like it means the world, but the people she loved and died faded away, to think there is something inside her worth safekeeping makes no sense to her.

"I've got the cakes," Hazel steps forward.

"Eat up," Nico tells the group.

Ara recoils with displeasure and gawks, scrunching up her nose. "Tastes like satyr medicine!"

"Don't remind me," Nico groans, forcing the last bit of cake down his throat. "That... should protect us from the poison."

"Poison?" Leo coughs out. "Did I miss the poison? 'Cause I love poison."

"Soon enough," Nico brushes off his teasing. "Just stick close together, and maybe we can avoid getting lost or going insane."

Leo grabs Ara's hand. "Another fun date, huh?"

They make their way in, her hand is so sweaty she feels the need to pull away, but Leo's grip stays firm as he looks around waiting for monsters to pop out from every corner.

"This wasn't part of a temple," Hazel informs them. "This was... the basement for a manor house, built in later Greek times."

"A manor house?" Frank questions. "Please don't tell me we're in the wrong place."

"The House of Hades is below us," Nico shakes his head. "But Hazel's right, these upper levels are much newer. When the archaeologists first excavated this site, they thought they'd found the Necromanteion. Then they realized the ruins were too recent, so they decided it was the wrong spot. They were right the first time. They just didn't dig deep enough."

They find a wall ahead stopping them from going forward. 

"A cave-in?" Jason wonders out loud.

"A test," Nico clarifies. "Hazel, would you do the honors?"

The girl touches the surface and it crumbles before them. Ara holds Leo's hand tighter and takes cover behind her cloak, getting dirt all over it. Before them lies a large, almost infinite set of stairs, the walls are decorated with images of cattle.

"I really don't like cows," Piper groans.

"Agreed," Frank replies.

"That's you, Neeks," Ara points at one cow with legs too long for its body.

"Those are the cattle of Hades," Nico scolds her. "It's a symbol of—" 

"Look," Frank interrupts, pointing at a cup set on the first step.

"Hooray, I suppose that's our poison," Leo points out plainly.

"We're standing at the ancient entrance of the Necromanteion," Nico picks it up. "Odysseus came here, and dozens of other heroes, seeking advice from the dead."

"Did the dead advise them to leave immediately?" Leo presses.

"I would be fine with that," Piper agrees.

Nico glances at them annoyed and then at her as if saying See what your jokes cause? Then he offers the chalice to Jason. "You asked me about trust, and taking a risk? Well, here you go, son of Jupiter. How much do you trust me?"

Jason almost snatches the cup out of his hands. He drinks, then passes it to the next person. 

"So dramatic," Ara grabs the cup and drinks from it, again making disgruntled noises. "Yuck!"

"Yeah, so dramatic," Nico glances at the group and nods briefly. "Congratulations. Assuming the poison doesn't kill us, we should be able to find our way through the Necromanteion's first level."

"Just the first level?" Piper asks with dread.

Nico opts to ignore all the witty comments starting now. He looks at Hazel. "After you, sister."

From this point on, the dead are stronger than the living.

That's what Hazel says the moment they enter the second level. Ara doesn't like the sound of that. Personally, her ghost sheet is packed, and if she runs into any of her dead friends, things will go downhill fast, and they'll get ugly.

In her life, the dead have always been stronger than the living. Her deadbeat father is the reason she considered herself hard to love for most of her childhood, her deceased friends constantly remind her she's useless. And now everyone will get to watch and hear her trauma in real time.

"Where are the monsters?" Frank asks. "I thought Gaea had an army guarding the Doors."

"Don't know. At this point I'd almost prefer a straight-up fight," Jason mumbles.

"Careful what you wish for, man," Leo summons fire on his free hand, and Ara feels comforted by it. "Personally, I'm hoping nobody's home. We walk in, find Percy and Annabeth, destroy the Doors of Death, and walk out. Maybe stop at the gift shop."

"Yeah," Frank huffs. "That'll happen."

"If they don't have a guide," Ara comments, "they're probably roaming this place, lost and waiting to hear us so they know where the food is."

The ground shakes as if agreeing with her comment. Everyone looks at her with a scowl to which she responds with a grimace, deciding to keep her thoughts to herself.

"That was close," Hazel sighs. "These passageways won't take much more."

"The Doors of Death just opened again," Nico announces.

"It's happening like every fifteen minutes," Piper points out.

"Every twelve," Nico frowns. "We'd better hurry. Percy and Annabeth are close. They're in danger. I can sense it."

His words motivate Ara to pick up her pace. As the rooms get taller and wider, she feels a presence watching her, their gaze so heavy on the back of her neck that it starts to hurt.

"Offerings?" Piper asks as they walk past some coins on the floor.

"Yes," Nico nods. "If you wanted your ancestors to appear, you had to make an offering."

"Let's not make an offering," Jason moves away.

"The tunnel from here is unstable," Hazel points out. "The floor might... well, just follow me. Step exactly where I step."

Leo drops her hand, and immediately Ara feels less nervous. She's been absorbing most of his anxiety without noticing. They walk in line for a while until the group suddenly stops.

"Frank?" Jason asks quietly. "Hazel, hold up a second. Frank, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," his voice shakes. "I just—"

"Ara."

The girl looks around wide-eyed, the darkness seemingly getting worse as she does. "What?"

Leo looks at her over his shoulder. "You said something?"

"Remember your tapestry."

Ara speaks with a choked voice. "Silena."

"Frank, Ara, don't move," Hazel warns them. But both teenagers are busy holding conversations with the air.

"Lead where?" Frank speaks.

"Lena, is it you?" Ara frowns. "What about the tapestry?"

"Uh, guys?" Leo's flames grow in size. "Could you not freak out on us? Please and thank you."

Frank and Ara lock eyes and they understand. Their ghosts have found them. 

"It's my sister," Ara's hands are shaking. "She's trying to tell me something..."

"We're okay," Frank gulps. "Just... voices."

Nico speaks up. "I did warn you. It'll only get worse. We should—"

"Wait here, everybody," Hazel disappears for a few seconds, then returns looking pale. "Scary room ahead—Don't panic."

"Those two things don't go together," Leo groans.

As they enter the bone cathedral, the voices get a little too loud for Ara's liking, but she suspects they're this way now because she's looking for her dead friends in the noise. To think her friends have watched her fail time after time, wasting all their sacrifices... it's not a pleasant notion.

"Touch nothing," Hazel warns them.

"Wasn't planning on it," Leo goes back to Ara's side. 

"Which way now?" Jason asks.

"This should be the room where the priests invoked the most powerful spirits. One of these passages leads deeper into the temple, to the third level and the altar of Hades himself. But which—?"

"That one." Frank points.

"Why that one?" Hazel asks.

"You don't see the ghost?"

"Ghost?" Nico raises a brow.

"I see it," Ara mumbles, giving a step forward. 

Leo pulls her back quickly. "Okay, let's take a moment to make sure Frank and Ara aren't having some kind of shared hallucination—"

"We need to get to that exit," Frank says urgently. "Now!"

Hazel pushes him back with all her strength. "Wait, Frank! This floor is not stable, and underneath... well, I'm not sure what's underneath. I need to scout a safe path."

"Hurry, then," Frank brings out his bow.

As soon as they huddle closer together, they hear the voices of a monstrous army approaching quickly. "Hazel, don't stop!" Nico reaches for the scepter of Diocletian.

Ara opts for her flintlock and starts shooting as soon as the Earthborn shows up at the end of the passageway. Leo stays near her, protecting her by tossing fire at the monsters. 

The floor cracks under them, and Ara retreats in panic colliding against Leo and Hazel.  Frank grabs the trio and drags them to another corridor. "Go, go, go!"

"The others!" Leo exclaims. A crack has divided the room they were previously in, one side full of monsters, the other with their friends, and a considerable amount of cyclops and hellhounds. 

"We have to help them!" Hazel says desperately.

"Your tapestry," Silena repeats in her mind once more, this time more urgently.

Arachne's tapestry showed her exactly as she looks now. Ara locks eyes with Frank, seeing the determination in his as they fall to similar conclusions. 

"Protect my army, Frank Zhang," she says.

"Nico!" Frank shouts. "The scepter!" Nico summons the ghostly army and Frank nods at her. "You keep going."

"What?" Hazel tries to reach him. "No!"

"You have to find the Doors. Save Annabeth and Percy."

Ara grabs Hazel and Leo and drags them away from Frank. He rushes away, and just when Hazel's getting a bit hard to control, the wall crumbles. Ara lets go and Hazel falls to her knees, the girl hits the rocks trying to move them, but they're unbothered by her tantrum. Ara gives her a single minute to scream, then lifts her from the hard floor.

"Frank is one of my bravest soldiers," she absorbs Hazel's anguish while she speaks. "You'll see him again. Alive." The girl looks like such a little kid, that Ara feels guilty for forcing her to go on. "Don't waste his efforts."

For the first time, Ara prays to her departed friends asking them for strength, but most of all, forgiveness.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[uglyduckling339]

KY'S LIFE IS STRANGE DOUBLE EXPOSURE NONSENSE LIVEBLOG: Episode 3

(as always, spoilers ahead!! don't read unless you've played the game or watched it bc otherwise none of these will make sense)

Tutorial Episode 1 Episode 2

LETS FUCKING GOOO IM SO EXCITED i actually really like this game ngl

(fun fact: this episode alone took 103 drafts to liveblog, and i actually shortened the amount by combining some into a list. without the list, it's about 150 drafts lol)

WOLF SQUAD HOODIE 🗣🗣🗣 AND PINK TIPS 🗣🗣 BEST OUTFIT COMBO AROUND FR

bruh max is ALWAYS sleepin in the beginning of ep 3 lmao

the best part of max's dissociation is there is no way she could be 100% confident that she DIDN'T kill safi. even she is getting slightly convinced by the photo and its prolly bc she knows theres days she wakes up and she doesn't feel real; days she forgets completely. she will NEVER be certain she didn't kill safi bc she'll never know if she just forgot it and erased it from her memory.

oh um, ik i was just yapping abt dissociation but i just remembered that it could be a future version of max instead😭 so idk

if i had a nickel for every LiS game i've played where the main character is accused of murder and wears a wolf squad hoodie, i'd have 2 nickels.

highkey i forgot safi and vinh fucked. they're both so real ngl

LMFAO MY BROTHER SAID MAX IN THE PIC WITH THE GUN HAS A LEAD PAINT STARE

cheetos toes?? max?? girl??

AH EW ALDERMAN KYS I HATE U

max. the picture. girl. u forgot the picture.

why would u walk to open the door with very explicit evidence against you js chilling in plain eyesight u freak

love her "oh fuck" + the face she makes lol

YO WHAT THE FUCK??

WHAT

FUCK YOU DUDE

he mentioned arcadia bay?? holy shit

my fav draft in here is: "girl js eat the photo atp"

okay what was alderman even tryna do. piss max off??

her instant breakdown :( poor max

OH MY GOD

OH MY GOD

MAX PHOTO JUMPED AGAIN ??????

shes js hella rusty but damnnn omg

hey! so what the fuck was that.

why was the storm in the background?

was it a diff universe maybe?

istg it's like her nightmare never ended fr

also MAX IS STILL FINE AS HELLLLLLLL IN THAT STORM EVEN AFTER 9 YEARS daymn

omg :( her collapsing tryna use her powers

the music in this episode is so good btw

is this the first ep in DE where we get 'sits' back or did i just miss them all last time

now i love you max but yk DAMN WELL ur talking straight out of ur balls with that whole "disappearing" thing. we dont know if u vanish or not 😭

okay so luckily she DOES disappear. unluckily i have SO MANY COMMENTS now:

what abt the dozens of kids she vanished in front of last ep then? did they just not care? does this mean that when she time travelled she DID teleport around? and people js didn't say anything? hilarous 10/10

goddd this might be my favorite ep so far. the amount of references and stuff added is insane.

max's trauma peaking through ily

she's like edging a breakdown but thats not quite enough tbh. i need to see her js COLLAPSE. let her hit her lowest. suffer ♡

actually i think i just wanna see max have a super reasonable reaction to this chaos she lives through ngl

okay so i looked away to liveblog and when i looked back up a diff universe alderman was there?? and moses could see him??? huh??

obvi i saved him. max wouldnt let him die

"i could've saved him!!" "no, you couldn't have." OH MY GODDD

highkey, the random extras in this game fucking SUCK. why is one british. who tf is kim. why do i care abt changing "photo guy"'s grade. i miss the tiny cast in LiS 1

stupid ass game making me google words

quick shout out to my dad for playing the whole Yasmin scene for me. he didn't have to, he js insisted bc "i paided 85$ for this game; i wanna try it"

okay so i actually hate Living World! Vinh ngl

VICTORIA?? GIRL?? DAMN??

talking mad shit on my pink twt page man.

also max's glitchy hair in this is so interesting !!

i forgot in which world Vinh owes me a favor so i've decided to not use any favors ever 🤩

"my door is always open" sounds familar...

lucas is the only person to be like slightly consious of max wandering around his room lmao

yup lucas is supposed to be jeffershit coded

AHH direct jefferson mention 😰

yk what. i dislike the loading screens. why r they so often

safi :( no :( y r u so mad :(

OH MY GOD IT'S COURTNEY'S BDAY </3

MAX IS SO SAD AND LONELY I LOVE HER

i think at first these liveblogs were more detailed but now i just say words lowkey

dude shes like so sad rn its insane. ily girl

SMASH OR PASS LMAOOOOO:

pass moses, smash gwen, didnt even get a choice w amanda (i think thats fucking WEIRD btw; i'll elabrote in a min), pass lucas, Kiss vinh

OH MY GOD I FORGOT TO ADD THAT SHE NEARLY CALLED CHLOE. BAE WAS SO UPSET SHE ALMOST CALLED HER OLD BAE

guys i make Max kiss Warren and Chloe is LiS and now i wanna do that again with Vinh and Amanda. #PolyamorousMaxineCanon

amanda's scene gets bisexual lighting okk

LETS THRASH SHAKABRAH !!!!!!!!!

okay so going back to the Amanda 'no choice' thing, at first I rejected her (bc the first interaction in the game with her is the game borderline shoved us onto her??) and now i've grown to kinda like her.

I like rhat she does listen to our boundaries and doesn't push on now but I feel like we missed alot of chances to learn more abt amanda bc of the romance being cut. Like i'm almost certain if I had chosen a romance with her we could have gotten a way better conversation from it.

anyways !! max almost crying :(

all lesbians like gwen bro

OH?? OKAY B&E

MY CAT?? IS MY CAT OKAY?? IRIS?? BABY??

this is the first time idk who coulda done this. i have so many guesses but i have zero clue fs.

I FOUND THE BABY DONT WORRY GUYS

poor sweetiepie is so scared :(

oh thats a lame reveal. its js another max

MUSIC SLAPS THO 🔥🔥🔥🔥

so im hearing that alderman was just a lil bitch

so the 'dopplegangers' are actually a shapeshifter??

THE SHAPESHIFTER IS SAFI????? WHAT??

okay i'm going straight into Episode 4 rn cuz i'm hooked but that was fire. it felt more like a Life Is Strange episode then the other 2 and yall know i LOVE characters showing any emotions ever lol

[foundtherightwords]

Sunlight Through the Mist - Chapter 10 (last chapter)

Pairing: Hellcheer (Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham) Regency AU

Summary: Having witnessed the broken marriage of his parents, Edward Munson, Baron Hurstfield, always regards love with a cynical eye. When circumstances compel him to marry and produce an heir, he quickly proposes to Christine Conyngham, a debutante whose reputation is hanging by a threat after an ill-fated affair. All Edward wants is to save his family estate, but as beautiful, fragile Christine finds her way into his wary heart, their marriage of convenience may become something neither of them ever expects - a union of love.  

Warnings: angst, past domestic violence, suicide attempt, smut (non-explicit)

Chapter word count: 4k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Edward was up and dressed before it was fully light. The entire house was still asleep when Will carried the bags to the door, yawning all the way. Wheeler had gone ahead to the livery stable to bring the carriage around.

"To Dover, sir?" Wheeler asked, as Edward climbed in.

"Yes."

The driver and the footman exchanged a glance, but neither asked why they were stealing away in the wee hour of the morning like some thieves, without their mistress, or why they were going to Dover. There was something in the gloomy look on their young master's face that told them it was best to hold their tongues and simply do as they were told.

As the carriage passed by Covent Garden, Edward suddenly thought of Molly. He'd planned to visit her while he was in London, to make sure she had what she needed for the winter—always a difficult time for the women on the streets. Now that he was going away indefinitely, he felt he should say a proper goodbye.

After telling Wheeler and Will to warm themselves at a coffee house, Edward made his way to the King's Head. As expected, he found Molly there amongst her friends, indulging in some early—or late, depending on how one looked at it—imbibition.

"Eddie!" she exclaimed in delight upon seeing him. "Where have you been? I heard that you were married!"

"I was," he replied, then corrected himself, "I am." He was still married, wasn't he?

"Well, well, well, then what are you doing here so early in the morning then? Why aren't you keeping your missus's bed warm?"

Edward winced. He signaled for the barman to refill Molly's glass and to bring them some breakfast. "Whatever you have," he said, when the barman shot him a disbelieving look. Customers in establishments such as this rarely asked for food, but for all of Molly's cheerfulness, she looked like she could use some sustenance.

"Where's your friend?" he asked Molly. "The girl I saw, uh—" He was ashamed to realize he didn't remember her name.

"Anne? She went home. Her no-good da, the one who kicked her out, finally popped the clogs, so her mam sent for her to come home. Poor lamb was so happy." Molly looked wistful. "Lucky her."

Edward nodded. His own suffering felt less significant in the face of the hardships these women faced every day, and it gladdened his heart to know at least one of them had managed to find some happiness. 

Later, over bread, cheese, and some bacon burned to a blackened crisp—The King's Head was not known for its cuisine—brought to them by the sullen barman, Edward found himself telling Molly everything, or almost everything, about his marriage, about Christine, and about Hauxwell's odious return. He hadn't meant to open his heart to her, but something in Molly's sympathetic eyes compelled him.

"So now you're running away?" she asked, once he had finished.

"Certainly not!" he said, outraged. "I'm leaving to let her make her own decision. I'm not going to fight another man for her."

Molly shook her head, exasperated. "You men and your pride," she scoffed. "Women are not allowed to choose. You should know that. Our whole life, we are told to do this and do that, don't speak, don't think. Do that long enough, and we no longer know our own mind or even that we have a mind to begin with. Or we may know it but no longer have a voice to speak for ourselves."

Edward stared at her. "What are you saying?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that she wants you to fight for her?"

***

Molly's words were still ringing in Edward's ears when he left The King's Head. Was she right? Did Christine see his refusal to demand satisfaction from Hauxwell not as a sign of respect for her autonomy, but rather a sign of weakness, weakness of his character and of his love for her? Was that doubt justified? She had asked him to behave as a husband, and yet he had behaved like a child, throwing a tantrum and stomping off when he didn't get his way.

Then he came to a decision. He was leaving, but not before making sure that Hauxwell truly loved Christine and would see her right. At least then he could leave with a clear conscience.

He directed Wheeler to the Cravens' residence, an ostentatious pile of marble and gilt, in Mayfair. Edward opened his pocket watch. It was just after eight o'clock, far too early to be calling. Still, Hauxwell had robbed him of his sleep, as it were, so Edward considered rousing him out of bed early adequate retaliation. If it made him petty, so be it.

The door was opened by a servant, who gazed at Edward in bewilderment. Even after Edward gave him his card and asked to see His Grace the Duke, the servant still stood at the door, mouth agape. Apparently, a visitor at this time of day was so extraordinary that he didn't know what to do. Finally, he had to summon help from the butler, a fellow looking even more snobbish than Mrs. Conyngham's.

"I'm afraid his lordship is not up yet, sir," he said.

"Could you wake him up for me, please?" said Edward, placidly. "I'm sure he'll agree to see me."

The butler sniffed, then turned and marched up the stairs, leaving Edward at the door. Angry shouts followed by soft murmurings floated down from the second floor. It was some minutes before the butler returned and conducted Edward to the library. Moments later, Hauxwell stalked through the door, wearing a morning robe and an expression of extreme peevishness.

"This is highly improper, Hurstfield," he grumbled. "It'd better be a matter of great urgency."

"Oh, not quite," Edward replied with a nonchalant air purposefully designed to aggravate Hauxwell. "I merely have a question for you."

"Well? What is it?"

"Do you truly love Christine?"

Hauxwell's face went bright red. "I don't see what—"

"It's no use dissembling," Edward interrupted him. "I know of your conversation with her."

Hauxwell's mouth worked, but no sound came out. He seemed to be putting all his effort into staying calm. "If you wish to demand satisfaction," eventually he said, "why didn't you do so last night? Or are you too afraid?"

Edward sniggered at Hauxwell's pathetic attempt at bravado. "I'm not here to challenge you," he said, "but to make you an offer."

"What sort of an offer?"

"Divorce your wife." Hauxwell's eyes went round, but he said nothing. "I shall divorce Christine," Edward continued slowly, for even thinking the idea was painful to him, let alone voicing it, but he had made up his mind. "That way, you two can marry."

Hauxwell continued to stare at him for a long while, before bursting into derisive laughter.

"Oh, I've often heard that you are eccentric, Hurstfield, but I didn't know it was to such an extent!" he said, once the laughter subsided. "Is this your attempt at a jest?"

"If you truly loved Christine, you wouldn't compromise her with an affair," Edward said.

"And how is a divorce any less scandalous?" When Edward didn't answer and only looked at him pointedly, Hauxwell let out another bark of laughter. "This isn't eccentricity, but naïveté! Have you any idea how impossible a divorce is? Why, even the Prince Regent failed to get a divorce from the Princess when he brought charges against her in the House of Lords!"

Of course Edward knew this. And even if a divorce was possible, it would bring ruin to them all. He only wished to see if Hauxwell's love for Christine was true enough, and strong enough, for Hauxwell to consider it.

"You can go to Scotland, as Lord Paget and Lady Wellesley did," Edward said with a shrug, referring to a well-known scandal that rocked London a few years back. "They are happily married now." He didn't mention the duel that took place between Lord Paget and Lady Wellesley's brother, or the gossip and rumors that surrounded the couple and their extended families even now.

Upon realizing that Edward was serious, Hauxwell's face turned ugly. He leaned closer and said through gritted teeth, "Now look here, Hurstfield, if you're looking to blackmail me—"

"I'm not."

"—my wife is expecting and on bed rest. I would not have the life of my unborn child endangered because of you!"

Edward was stunned. He had come to Hauxwell with every intention of seeing the good in the man, of taking a step back and leaving Christine free to be with whomever she chose, but he didn't expect the depth of Hauxwell's depravity. Did Christine know? Or did she still think of Hauxwell as a hero, tragically separated from his one true love, willing to turn his back on society to be reunited with her?

"You should have thought of your wife and child before importuning my wife," Edward said coldly.

Hauxwell scoffed. "I've heard enough," he said, reaching for the bell rope to summon a servant. "I shall not stand to be lectured in my own house by a—a boor such as yourself!"

"And I have heard enough," Edward said, moving toward the door. "At least have the decency to tell Christine the truth about your intention."

"What did you hope to accomplish by coming here, Hurstfield?" Hauxwell called after him, determined to have the last word. "Do you think Christine would stay with you once she found out you threatened me? She's already made her choice!"

Edward's hands itched to hit Hauxwell, to wipe that smug look off of his face, but he told himself it would not do to get arrested for assault. He stalked out of the mansion without uttering another sound.

As the carriage rolled down the southbound road out of London, Edward's blood churned after the hateful interview with Hauxwell. He tried to distract himself by calculating the route. If they made haste, they could arrive in Dover that night. The list of boats, which Will had managed to procure after all, indicated there was going to be one headed for Calais early the next morning. But Edward couldn't fix his mind on the journey ahead. His thoughts, like the beam of a lighthouse, kept circling back to Christine.

One thing that Hauxwell had said stuck in Edward's mind. He'd claimed that Christine had already made her choice. But she hadn't. Unless she had secretly sent Hauxwell a message after the reception, it must have been another lie Hauxwell told to rattle Edward up.

And what about the Duchess's pregnancy? Christine had asked Hauxwell about his wife the previous night, but he had smoothly deflected her question. So it was very likely that she didn't know about the Duchess. She had been prepared to run to Hauxwell when she learned of his wedding, but would this be one step too far for her? Would this be the one line she would not cross?

As he mulled over these questions, it dawned on Edward that he was making the same mistake he always had with Christine—he was ascribing her thoughts and motives instead of simply talking to her. In the early days of their marriage, he had been afraid that his questions would be domineering and that he would come off as tyrannical as his father, and he had developed the terrible habit of trying to guess her mind. Even when relations between them improved, he never quite rid himself of that habit, for he was still afraid, afraid that he may not like what she had to say or vice versa, and that they would argue and upset the comfort they'd found with each other. But now, he realized that he felt much closer to her when they talked, even when they quarreled.

Along with this realization came another thought—if Christine truly didn't know how despicable Hauxwell really was, then Edward couldn't let her give herself to such a man. To Hell with leaving her free to choose and not forcing her. Edward had no doubt that Hauxwell would discard her as soon as he was bored with her or their affair became an inconvenience. Edward had saved her from that fate once before, and he would not let her suffer the same thing again.

Opening the carriage's window, Edward stuck his head out and called to the driver.

"Sir?" came Wheeler's reply.

"Turn around. We're going back to London."

Edward could feel the confusion coming from Wheeler as he exchanged a glance with Will, who was sitting next to him on the driver's seat, but to the man's credit, he didn't say anything, simply started turning the carriage around.

However, one of the horses refused to move. Wheeler jumped down to check on it, swore under his breath, and came up to the window. "Th' horse's thrown a shoe, sir," he said.

Edward let out an exasperated breath. He got out of the carriage and looked around. They were on a particularly lonely stretch of Blackheath, but he could just make out some chimney smoke in the distance. He pointed it out to Wheeler. "What do you reckon? Should one of us take a horse and ride there to get help?"

"Th' horse are not saddled, sir," Wheeler reminded him. "'sides, I hear plenty o' horrible stories about this place. They say footpads and highwaymen often lurk 'round here." Next to Wheeler, young Will went pale. No doubt the memory of getting shot by the highwayman eight months ago was still fresh in the boy's mind.

"They'd be foolish to attack in broad daylight, wouldn't they?" Edward said to put the boy at ease.

"Aye. Still, I'd feel a sight better if we were to stay here wi' th' carriage. You, Will, go back th' way we came and see if you can find th' shoe. I can wrap it up, after a fashion, 'til we get to a village wi' a smithy."

Will opened his mouth to protest, but Edward pulled a pistol out of the driver's box and handed it to him. "Here, to make you feel safer." The boy wavered for a moment, then he stood up straighter and squared his shoulders. Tucking the pistol into his coat pocket, he ambled down the road, carefully checking the grass banks on either side for the fallen shoe.

They watched until he disappeared around the bend, then Wheeler went back to the horses and checked all their hoofs. Left with nothing to do, Edward started pacing by the carriage, trying to keep his body moving so his mind would stay still. But even so, he couldn't stop himself from going over all the things he would say to Christine. What if she didn't believe him? What if she decided he made it up to smear Hauxwell's name? What if she simply didn't care? If she really was that callous, Edward decided, then she and Hauxwell were well-matched, and Edward would simply have to admit that he'd made a grave mistake in falling in love with her.

The sound of wheels approaching made him look up. Perhaps Will had not found the horseshoe, but at least he'd found help.

What Edward saw made his heart stop for a second.

It was Christine, wearing her customary blue bonnet and only a thin coat, driving a strange phaeton.

As the phaeton drew near, a dreamlike feeling washed over Edward, just like when he saw her after the mudslide—he couldn't tell if she was really there or merely a beautiful mirage conjured up by his mind. When the phaeton was a dozen yards away, she pulled on the reins, jumped down before the horse had stopped completely, and twisted her ankle. Edward's mind urged him to run over to help her, but his body remained frozen in place. Wheeler, who was standing closer, managed to catch her and set her on her feet, though her bonnet flew off, hanging down her back by its ribbons. She pulled it crookedly back on her head and pushed away some unruly locks of hair. The gesture was so familiar that the dreamlike illusion was shattered, replaced by a reality that was no less beautiful than the illusion, perhaps even more so, because it was real.

She came up to Edward, flushing, looking both guilty and happy at seeing him, and the ice that had settled into his heart the previous night started to thaw a little.

"What in God's name are you doing here?" he asked, when he finally found his voice again.

"I may ask you the same thing," she said breathlessly. "I thought you were going back to Hurstfield. Why are you going to Dover?"

She must have heard from the servants. "I should've thought the answer to that is obvious."

"No, not to me."

Her eyes as they looked up at him were so soft and imploring, a hint of tears in the corners making them all the more radiant, and Edward was ashamed of all his unkind thoughts about her. He understood that the fire he'd seen in her the previous night, the fire that came from Hauxwell, would only burn her out, leaving nothing but ashes and bones, but this, this warmth, this tenderness, could nurture and protect. Suddenly his flight to France seemed like the most enormous folly. Still, he answered truthfully, "I want to go somewhere that doesn't remind me of you."

Christine let out a tiny, almost inaudible "Oh", and her eyes brightened even more, along with a hint of a smile, half-loving, half-sarcastic, as though she was laughing at his dramatic reaction. "I'm sorry, but you can't escape me that easily," she said, stepping closer toward him. "You have to take me with you."

"Why?"

"We haven't had our wedding journey yet, and I've never been to France."

His throat constricted with hope, so tightly that he could only whisper, "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She slipped her hand into his and used that as an anchor to pull herself into him, closing the gap between them. Her fingers were bare—she must have left London in such a hurry that she hadn't even thought to put on gloves—and freezing cold. "I've made my choice."

The last of the ice around Edward's heart cracked. He heard no more. Pressing his other hand to her face, he kissed her as he'd never kissed her before, not caring if Wheeler saw, not caring if another carriage may pass by at that moment. He kissed her until her hand warmed in his, until the ice around his heart melted completely away. It was only when she gasped for breath that he remembered to pull back a little, but still kept their foreheads pressed to each other.

"I have a confession," he said, once their breaths had returned somewhat to normal. "I'm not going to France."

"I've gathered as much. You were going back for me, weren't you?"

"I didn't trust that fool Hauxwell to deliver my message."

"Hush. Don't speak of him." She covered his mouth with her hand, which gave him an excellent opportunity to kiss her again.

"Why not? I'm not afraid of him," he said, kissing each and every one of her fingertips.

"You should've told me that last night."

"I've made such a dreadful hash of things, haven't I?"

She wrenched her hands out of his grasp to press them to his cheeks, caressing his dimples with her thumbs. "We both have," she said, smiling. "Never have greater fools breathed the breath of life. But we'll learn together." She stretched up for another kiss. Edward felt quite weak with relief and happiness, and he tightened his grip around Christine like she was a crutch or, indeed, a part of his own body, afraid he might crumple if he let go.

Wheeler, who had been waiting for them to calm down, now gave a polite cough to remind them of his presence, his eyes twinkling patiently. Edward turned to the old driver, saw him nod toward the phaeton with a questioning look, and remembered the matter at hand.

"Where did you get that?" he asked Christine.

Her mouth dropped open. "It was Hauxwell's. He came to my mother's house to tell me about you, and I—I just took it. I wasn't thinking straight."

Edward wanted to ask what the arrogant fool had said exactly, what had given her this sudden clarity and strength of will when she had been so afraid before, but he didn't want to remind her of Hauxwell. There would be plenty of time for that later. Besides, the thought of Christine stealing Hauxwell's phaeton and horse was too amusing. Edward laughed out loud and hugged her more tightly.

"I bet he loved that," he said.

"We'd better send it back, before he has me hanged for a horse thief."

"We can leave it in Blackheath for him to pick up."

Just as Edward was about to tell Wheeler to take the phaeton into the village and find help, Will came back with the horseshoe. While Edward watched them deal with the horse, the idea of crossing the English Channel on an unsteady little boat and traipsing through the Continent in the cold and snow no longer seemed so appealing to him.

"So do you still want to go to France?" he asked, turning to Christine. "Or do you want to go home?"

She smiled at him, understanding. "Home," she said.

***

In the end, because they had to go through London again to reach the Great North Road, they decided to leave the phaeton and horse at a livery stable in town and send a message to the doubtlessly irate owner to pick them up. They also sent Will to Mrs. Conyngham's house to get Christine's things. Will came back with Christine's traveling case, grinning, saying Mrs. Conyngham had alternated between shouting at him and wheedling him into telling her where Christine had gone, but when he said her ladyship was safe with his lordship, Mrs. Conyngham had clamped her mouth shut and not uttered another word.

They stopped at Peterborough as usual. This time, the landlord didn't have to ask how many rooms they required. He quickly had a waiter conduct them to the same chamber where they'd stayed just two days prior.

The moment the door closed behind them, the world disappeared and nothing else existed but the two of them, the bed, and the fire. There was much they wished to say to each other, much to apologize for and explain and set right, but all that could wait. For now, there were different ways for them to converse and connect with one another. No need for words.

There was, however, one thing Edward had to tell Christine, something he had been saying for months but only in secret, afraid of how she might react to it. Now, with her in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her hair falling across his chest, and her breath blowing warm and steady on his skin, his fear had vanished. He gently put his hand under her chin and tipped her face up so he could look her in the eye.

"I love you," he said.

She wasn't taken aback. She looked as though she had been expecting it, and with that look, he knew he hadn't made a mistake in falling in love with her. She understood. She'd always understood. Her eyes shone in the firelight, and with a glowing, knowing smile, she replied with the words he didn't realize he had hoped for, but was ecstatic to hear nonetheless:

"I love you too."

And that was enough.

THE END

And that concludes Edward's story! Thank you so much for reading. As for now, I'm going to let Edward and Christine enjoy their happily ever after, but I'm still keeping my options open for more Hurstfield Hall stories in the future. In the meantime, if you haven't read Christine's POV (the original "Love in a Mist") or the sequel, "Love in a Storm" (it has alternating POVs, so you won't miss Edward), please go ahead! And keep an eye out for more Hellcheer stories from me in the future!

[nicascurls]

Breaking the Dollhouse - Chapter Three

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: What would have happened if Junior survived and was taken by Tiffany from the hospital? What would that mean for Junior and Nica over the next year?

Notes: So this chapter took me longer to write than I expected and does focus on Nica's attempt in Cult, so a warning for that.

Tags: @barclaysangel @rogertaylorismyking

Things had changed since the twins visited. Junior had been nervous before around Tiffany after discovering Nica but now it was so much worse. He had looked forward to his secret visits to Nica's room but now whenever he was alone with Tiffany he wished for Nica to be there too. Someone who actually encouraged him to share his feelings, not just about life now but everything before and his interests. Nica sat and listened no matter how long he felt like he was rambling, gave him comfort when he needed it, waited patiently when certain stories were more difficult for him and took him longer to voice. Or recently, even progressing to things they would both like to do, hopes they had before Chucky. That’s where they were now. Sat eating some of the food that Junior now has stashed in his room that he brought to share, enthusiastically telling Nica all about Greek Mythology. 

Nica was listening intently as she worked her way through a cookie. It made the days being trapped a little more bearable, seeing Junior's face light up talking about his interests. Nica continued to try and absorb all the information Junior was presenting her with when he suddenly went silent, staring at her wrist before trying to pry his eyes away.

Nica silently cursed herself, she didn't like anyone seeing that scar, especially Junior. He had gained the courage to open up to her about his mothers death, after hearing that she focused even more on keeping it hidden. She didn't want to provoke any bad memories for him. Whilst the wound was now healed, the scar was still pink and raised enough to give away that it was a somewhat recent incident.

"Junior…" She spoke gently, trying to pull him out of his trance.

"W- when did-"

"It was before I met you." She could feel a lump forming in her throat at his reaction. "I'll explain everything, I just- I tried to keep it hidden, I didn't want to upset you."

"Can- can you explain it now?"

Nica could see the worry in his eyes, the fear that she would be gone too. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Come here." She gestured to the side of her and Junior instantly sat down at her side, ready to listen.

"So you remember I told you about what happened to my family?"

"Yeah, Chucky killed them and framed you."

"Well, there was one other person who survived that night that I didn't tell you about." 

Nica spent close to the next hour explaining what happened to her beloved niece and answering any questions that Junior had. All the while, he stayed sat next to Nica, resting his head on her shoulder and giving her hugs when she struggled to continue explaining. 

By the time the explanation was done, both of them had shed a significant amount of tears, not only for the pain and suffering that Chucky and Tiffany had caused for both of them, but for the poor little girl that Nica had considered a daughter who had been so close to surviving. 

Once she had finished, Nica remained in the same spot, staring straight ahead whilst absent mindedly stroking Junior’s hair. She knew it had been a lot for Junior to take in and he was currently curled into her side with his head resting on her shoulder as he processed everything. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you before, Honey.” Nica spoke into the silence, “I know you hate secrets, but with everything you're already dealing with- It’s, it’s a heavy subject and I didn’t want to put that on you. Especially after the past months…”  

“Yeah, I get that…” He responded in a small voice, still coming to terms with what he had been told, he remembered all too well how he felt after his mom passed. What lead him to feel low enough to listen to Chucky in the first place, “I know being kept in here is really shitty, especially after all the other shit you've been though, but… you don’t feel- you won't-”

“It won’t happen again, baby.” She gently grabs his face in her hands and lifts his head to look him in the eyes, “I promise you. It won’t happen again, I’m right here…” 

In an instant, Junior loops his arms around Nica’s neck, hugging her tightly as if to reassure himself that she was, in fact, still there. He eventually let go, but still stayed close to her, for her comfort as well as his own peace of mind but there was still one thought he couldn't shake, “Do you think the same thing would have happened to me?” Nica’s head snapped up before he had even finished his question, eyes immediately scanning him for any injuries. “I mean, if I had kept doing as Chucky asked?” 

Inside her head Chucky let out a short laugh, It would depend on how obedient the brat was! 

Don’t fucking touch him! Nica snapped back. Junior watched as Nica calmed herself. 

“I- I don’t know, honey. I’m just glad we never had to find that out.” Junior just gave her a small smile, gently nodding his head in response as Nica glanced at the clock. 

“We should get some rest, before Tiffany starts screeching in the morning.” That made Junior let out a laugh.

“I thought I would have gotten used to it by now but I haven’t. I’m surprised I haven’t had an episode because of it…”

“Well, I’m glad you haven’t, do you remember the breathing exercises I told you about? I know it can sound silly, but they can be very helpful.”

Junior smiled again, having someone else around who understood his heart episodes seriously helped him to cope. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Okay, good.” Nica passed him an extra pillow before lying down, Junior quickly doing the same. They stayed in silence for a while before Nica adjusted the covers over Junior’s shoulder. She closed her eyes once again and faintly heard a mumble, "Alice was really lucky to have you…" 

Nica had gently awoken Junior that morning before Tiffany rose by stroking his cheek so he could sneak back to his room. Since ‘waking up’ to Tiffany’s high pitched greeting, he had been desperate to see Nica again. After finding out the full story about her family, Junior wanted to be there for her even more than he had before and wanted to be sure that she was alright. 

Junior was currently leaning back on the couch, waiting for Tiffany to retrieve her ‘girlfriend’ from the pink prison she kept her in. He had been given the task of setting up the only movie Tiffany ever let them watch, much to his and Nica’s dismay. Junior’s mind was occupied by wanting to see Nica again and due to that, he accidently pressed the wrong button on the remote, causing the TV to switch to the news. He thought nothing of it and was about to switch it back when he heard the news reader mention Hackensack, that was when he noticed what story was being covered. 

The investigation into the series of homicides that took place in Hackensack last November is still ongoing. In addition to a missing persons case- 

That’s when Junior saw it, his own picture looking back at him. Wait, missing?! He thought to himself, Not dead?! He didn’t hear anything else from the report, only his own heartbeat in his ears. 

She lied! How could I have been such an idiot?! I was in hospital, of course I wouldn't have been reported dead! He was getting increasingly angry. At Chucky. At Tiffany. At himself, Idiot! You absolute idiot! He continued to tell himself, he knew he needed to calm down so he wouldn’t have an episode. Focus on my breathing. Like Nica taught me. Nica! He remembered the task at hand just in time, setting up the TV and forcing a smile on his face as he continued to try and regulate his breathing again. 

By the time Tiffany had returned with a slightly drowsy looking Nica, Junior’s breathing was almost back to normal. Tiffany soon snatched the remote from his hand to put the movie on as he locked eyes with Nica. Whatever Tiffany had drugged her with, it was a small enough dose that she wasn’t completely out of it, she was trying to fight it. For now, Nica was successful enough to be able to clock that something was wrong with him and furrowed her brow in question. 

‘Later.’ Junior mouthed behind Tiffany’s back. 

That night, Nica once again lay in bed, in the horrendous pink room she continued to despise. The drugs Tiffany had given her earlier had mostly worn off now, making her far more awake than she would like to be at almost midnight. It didn’t help that she was already feeling  fidgety and desperately trying to stop herself from chewing on her fingernails. That had already given her away to Tiffany once, she wasn’t going to let it happen again. She knew there was something bothering Junior and she so badly wanted to help him but there was nothing she could do until-

Just then, she heard the familiar rattle of the door handle before being greeted by the sight of Junior sneaking in and closing the door behind him. He had the same look in his eyes that was there in the day, Nica immediately sat up. 

"Hey. What's going on, honey? What's the matter?"

"She lied. She fucking lied and I was a fucking idiot!" He accompanied his last claim with a punch to the bed before sitting himself facing Nica as she did her best to stay calm, "No. Don't talk about yourself like that."

"It's true! She told me everyone thought I was dead and I believed her. I'm a fucking missing person, I saw it on the news!" 

Nica could see the betrayal in his eyes. Junior hated lies, he hated secrets. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, the self hatred clear on his face and it broke Nica’s heart.

"Oh, Junbug…" His expression softened a little at the nickname and he lay down, resting his head in her lap. He continued to take deep breaths as Nica gently played with his hair, focusing on the unique feeling of safety he only had then. 

"I hate her!" 

"Yeah, me too." 

"We have to find a way out, I hate this place."

"We will, we'll figure something out. We’ll find a way…"

"And I need Tiffany to get what she deserves…" Junior turned his head to see a mischievous grin form on Nica's face. 

"I like the sound of that, do you have any ideas?" 

With that, Junior gave a grin practically identical to the one Nica was still wearing. 

[cherokeegal1975]

Unexpected Cargo, Ch. 1, Part 1 By Meriah Smith (Author's note below chapter pages)

Running

Johnathan fled through a desolate landscape east towards the safety of the weathered stones ahead. With any luck, he had lost his persuers for good this time. The new day was already promising a blistering heat as his dust colored robes and pants billowed back in the rising wind. He worried that a sandstorm might be approaching. It would be a blessing if he found shelter in time.

He didn't know why King Richard's guards were still perusing him so determinedly across the Red Sands desert. He was just a political nobody that transported cargo and occasionally passengers.

His last commission seemed a mere kindness at the time, he reflected as he tried to run even faster despite his exhaustion, cursing his bad luck and poor judgement.

Last night they had captured his sand ship. He'd been leaving the trading post when they'd spotted him and he had led them on a harrowing chase along a dirt road at breakneck speeds.

To the casual observer, his long, rust colored vessel looked like a boxy and neglected hovercraft, but it could zip over terrain that most wheeled vehicles would have found impossible to traverse. It could turn on a stone, stop dead in a heartbeat and accelerate from zero to one hundred and eighty in sixty seconds flat. Best part was, no matter how fast his ship sped above the ground, its body and his cargo never suffered from the additional g-forces. A series of spells kept gravity ad a steady normal, as if it were standing still.

Damn, how he missed his sand ship, he thought as he panted though parched lips, it had been his home as well as his main source of his livelihood and he was uncertain if he would ever get it back.

However, he was not so blinded by the loss of his possessions that he couldn't remember to be grateful that he escaped before King Richard decided on the best way to kill him. And he thanked the Goddess of all Creation with every fiber of his being that they didn't catch Goldie and Little Girl.

They would have killed Goldie outright and sold Little Girl back into slavery as a gladiator in the worst blood sport events of the oasis towns had to offer. The very thought of Goldie dead and Little Girl winding up mad and broken of spirit from the abuse of her captors, squeezed his heart with worry. He would die to protect them both.

His thick leather boots kicking up sand with every running step as he pared a glance up to the sky, to where the form of a young dragon followed him on towards the safety of the rocks and water just ahead. She carried what little supplies she managed to recover in her claws and his rat Goldie who was clinging to her feather mane at the base of her neck.

This was his dragon that he rescued from slavery and then adopted as his own daughter. He called her "Little Girl" because he couldn't think of what else to call her and she refused to respond to any other name.

She would have let him ride her across the skies along with the rest of what she was carrying if she could have, but the mastiff sized dragon was still too small to carry his weight.

Johnny staggered up a long steep grade that led up to the huge rock formation he was headed for. A little farther...just a little farther...then they could rest.

When the cave entrance came into view, it didn't look wider than a larger crack, but he knew there was good shelter inside and a pool of spring water.

He stumbled and fell gasping; another one of those damned cramps had him in its grips again. He didn't know the source of what ailed him, though he had his suspicions. Could it have been a spell cast by that princess eight days ago?

Princess Elena had been recently widowed when her husband's brother had killed for the throne. She had fled for her life, found Johnny and asked for his help.

Warning bells went off in his head, but one look at those big dark eyes tearing up after his initial refusal and he had to relent. Johnny was resourceful and tough as nails, yet by no means was he heartless. It was both his strength and sometimes weakness. His good nature got him into trouble more than once in his thirty years of life.

A competent white witch, the princess had drugged him somehow or cast a sleep spell on him shortly after he agreed to help her. When he had awakened, she gave him the royal seal, then asked him to keep it safe for her until she requested its return.

He accept ed the task along with twenty-five pieces of gold as a retainer. Yet he had sensed some other motive and keeping the seal safe was a cover for the real reason she needed his help.

Before he could discover the truth, they had been attacked by King Richard's guards. He made his escape at her barked command to go while her own guards fought to protect her.

He liked the princess, but he wanted nothing to do with politics. Getting to much attention from royalty meant they might discover illegal cargo he sometimes carried. He would honor the contract that the made with her to the best of his ability; he did have a reputation to maintain. Besides, she could take care of herself. In addition to her personal guards, she was powerful in her magics.

Johnny had no knack for spells himself, so he could not divine what she had done to him while he lay in his enchanted stupor. Since agreeing to help her, every time he stopped for more than a day, the king's guards would find him again. Why did Richard want that stupid seal so bad? Why not get another one?

The cramps started just twelve hours after he had escaped capture, which started as annoying twinges he forgot about as soon as they passed, but they steadily became worse. They would go from a dull pain nothing would fix, to so agonizing that it left him sick until they passed. The constant dull pain eased in a couple of days, but the sharp, periodic attacks would come and go without warning, leaving him breathless.

After four days of this, he reluctantly admitted he couldn't continue running his cargo business under these conditions. So, he stocked up on extra supplies and headed out into the deep desert intending to stay there until the king lost interest in him.

For three days the ruse seemed to work; relatively few people dared to live in the largely unmapped and untamed wilderness where water sources were unknown to the city dwellers and royal houses of the Red Sands. But Johnny had grown up there and lived with a nomadic tribe of honorable thieves since he was twelve.

Somehow the guards located him again on the way out from a tiny trading post and they chased him with their heavy wheeled vehicles, Johnny driving his sand ship as fast it would go.

He might have gotten away if they didn't have a powerful armor piercing-rifle that took out his main engine before he could make it to terrain too rough for them to cross at any great speed.

Little Girl had been sitting in the passenger seat in her child form holding Goldie in her lap when the sand ship suddenly dropped out of the air and skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust, nearly tipping over sideways more than once as it came to rest.

"Get out!" Johnny had ordered desperately as he leaned over them and shoved open the passenger door. "Take Goldie and fly away!"

"Daddy, no!" she cried in protest as she hugged the frightened rat to her bare chest, terrified tears running down her cheeks.

Already he could hear the guards approaching though the rapidly dissipating dust cloud.

"GO!!!" he shouted at her with a gentle shove toward the open door.

With a sob, the brave and beautiful child tumbled out of the passenger door and shifted into her true form with Goldie still in her arms, flying into the sun as guards fired their guns at her, causing them to miss their target. In moments she was out of sight altogether.

They hauled him out of this broken ship and attempted to subdue him with great difficulty. He couldn't fight them all, but he was determined to kill as many as he could before they killed him. He could at least buy Little Girl and Goldie some time to get away.

He managed to break free of the first guard that grabbed him, killing that one first with his pistol and then several more. They rushed him before he could reload, so he withdrew his curved short sword and killed three more. He might have escaped despite the odds against him if those damned cramps hadn't caught him by surprise and double him over in agony.

Johnny cursed the princess under his breath, face pressed in the dirt, as they pinned him to the ground and took his sword. They tied his hands behind his back with rough hemp ropes and hobbled his sand ship's cargo holds, tore up his and Little Girl's few personal belongings and maliciously blew small holes into his ship's hill with their firearms after they finished their reckless search of his ship.

They found the seal. He didn't have time to hide the troublesome thing while he busy running and hiding in the oasis town s that were his usual haunts. They "officially" declared him a thief, a murderer, and a traitor to the crown and he was to await judgement by his Highness King Richard...blah, blah, blah...

He didn't care, all he wanted was to escape and find his family. He wasn't loyal to any established government. How could he be a traitor to a kingdom that he was not a citizen of?

The sun was setting when he had finally been captured. He soon learned that King Richard himself was coming in person to see him. The guards' orders were to remain until he arrived early the next morning.

(This is the first three pages of my first chapter of this book. If it goes over well enough, I'll put in more pages. I just want to see if anyone would care enough to actually read it and leave an honest comment. I'd put in the whole chapter all at once, but Tumbler won't let me do that. So, I'm having to break it up and it's slow work because I can't just copy paste, much to my annoyance. Tumblr won't let me do that either. So, I have to type everything in. A lot of work for maybe getting no response. This book is available on Amazon. The little bit of editing I managed to get and forever be grateful for in the first five chapters does not appear in the book or the audiobook. Sorry about that. I'll do something about that when I can afford to hire someone, which isn't cheap at all. So, if you want to read more, let me know. I'll post three more pages. I know the narrative wanders a bit for the first chapter, but that's my way of opening with a bang for this book. I did keep things mostly linear the rest of the story. This is a lot of work for nothing if I don't get any feedback. Please, give it a chance.

Post Script: response or no response, I might just type some more anyway. It's something to do. And yes, I can illustrate some. Creativity is my thing. And, yeah there's child nudity in this story, but it's all innocent. I promise. Besides, the girl isn't human. You can see her caring Goldie in the first drawing in her true form.)

[livredebelle]

Twenty-one.

MIND-RACING, HEART THUMPING, ADRENALINE RUSHING...

I blinked three times rapidly in an effort to keep the tears from falling.

I hate this, I hate this, I HATE YOU!

"Not now, Mother," I managed to ground out, "I'm not feeling well." I rushed over to the elevator and pressed the button over and over, as if that would make it come sooner.

"What's the rush, love? If you're not feeling well, come inside and lie down for a bit, and I'll get Mrs. Young to make you some tea or congee."

"I'm busy."

"Well, make sure to join us for dinner this week. You know your presence is required as part of our bargain."

I pressed my lips tightly together in an effort not to scream at her. She was so insufferable--clearly she could see I was suffering, yet she chose to go ahead with what she wanted to say anyway, and throw a little bit of shade in it.

Truly the Mother of the Year.

"Great," was my response. "I'll try."

"You really shouldn't be so nonchalant, you know? What will you do if I decide to give Pete a ring, and ask him if he wants to come meet his daughter for once?"

I whirled around at that, seething.

"You're really going to do this now? Fine, why don't you say it louder--let your precious little daughter know about how you're selling her out to the devil. How can you be such a bitch?"

"What did you say--"

"Irina!"

Rosalie's chirpy voice came from the entrance. I smacked my lips and grinned at my mother.

"Well? Do you want to continue this conversation now, or what?"

Mother's face turned turnip red. Good--she deserved to feel like shit for what she was trying to do. This woman was shameless, but she had a buttload of pride; because I was the same, I knew exactly how to make her writhe. Of course, I also knew I'd regret it later, but God it felt so good--especially when I was already feeling like shit.

Rose's face fell when she came to encounter the confrontation in the hallway, her eyes darting back and forth between us, sensing the ominous mood.

"Um..."

As she fidgeted, Mother snapped out of her silent fury.

"Hurry up and get inside. If you're done with practice, you should head home immediately--where have you been until now?!"

As usual, taking her anger out on the wrong person. Still, Rose obeyed and, after giving me one parting glance, she hurriedly ran after Mother into their house.

I grimaced. I didn't want to get involved, and I definitely didn't have the capacity to interfere--but I still had to try. For my sister's sake. If anything, I was acting out of guilt, which in my opinion justified nothing.

I sucked in a deep breath before willingly stepping through the door; it felt like I was crossing the barrier into hell. I looked around the house, taking a long good look at the way Mother had arranged the furniture. She had always fussed about how decorating your home was critical, because it was an opportunity for people to appreciate your taste in art, culture, etc. Blech. What nonsense. I saw that to this day, she was abiding by that philosophy; there were numerous paintings on the walls that I could only recognize as being famous for something. I wished I could ask Maria about it.

"She was with me," I grunted, catching up to where Mother and Rose stood in the living room. "That's why I just got in too." It was a half-lie--I didn't know where Rose had been in between the time she had met me and now, but I figured it wouldn't appease Mother in the slightest, unless it was more dance practice.

"You stay out of this."

"But why? I'm the one you were originally angry at. You wanted to know where Rose had been, and I'm telling you. Now will you let the poor girl go so she can change into comfortable clothes and get started on homework?"

Mother crossed her arms spitefully. "Who's the mother--you or me?"

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes--a miracle. "Do you expect me to answer seriously?"

She glowered. "Aren't you supposed to be sick? Why are you entering someone else's home and causing a ruckus?"

"I'm just trying to preserve the peace."

"Somehow I doubt that. You've always had a talent for stirring up trouble since you were young. What are you playing at?"

"Melanie."

A low, gruff voice interrupted us--all in good timing, too, because my stomach could no longer take the intense anxiety I was trying to bottle up. The container was full. I darted to the nearest kitchen sink and vomited everything I had eaten that day out of my system.

"It appears Irina is feeling unwell indeed," Richard said, his lanky self appearing from the shadows. His sharp features and indifferent expression scared the bejeezus out of me still. I wiped and rinsed my mouth. "We should allow her to get some rest in the guest room while Ms. Goodham prepares dinner."

"I'm not hungry, thanks."

Richard's eyes were steel cold. "It wasn't an invitation."

I openly rolled my eyes. "You have no authority over me."

At that precise moment, something crashed near my right ear. I blinked rapidly, only to realize that my stepfather had thrown a nearby glass cup towards me, which had shattered behind me on the kitchen wall, missing my ear by a few mere centimeters. It took me more than a moment to regain my composure.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you old fuck?"

"Irina!" Mother hissed, at the same time Rose made a small whimpering sound.

"What? Oh, of course you're going to take the side of your new sugar daddy. God, you people make me sick."

"R-Rina, your ear..."

I touched the back of my right ear and winced; shards of the shattered glass cup had scratched it or something. I laughed at the awkwardness of the situation--how else was I supposed to react? My family, old and new, was always going to be crazy. This was why I had pried myself free years ago; I felt my sanity slipping away each and every second I was forced to weather their presence. I couldn't even look at Rosalie--a part of me secretly harbored resentment for the fact that she chose, time and time again, to be an "innocent" bystander, watching me suffer yet doing absolutely nothing about it.

I shrugged and squared my shoulders. "Richard, you may be my stepfather legally, but you have no actual hold over me. Although I haven't yet been able to break out of this vicious cycle of having to deal with shit people like you who call yourselves human beings, never doubt that I wouldn't hesitate to defend myself. I'll kill you with my hands if I have to."

And I meant it. At that very moment, I was seeing red in my vision--no rhyme or reason would break me out of my spell. A court of law would side with me on this and call it self-defense, right? Without thinking, I grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter and held it out towards him.

"Well? Shall we dance?"

Richard was breathing heavily, as if he had realized the absurdity of his action and needed a minute to compose himself. Well, I wasn't going to wait for that.

But I also didn't want to murder someone who wasn't worth my time for shit. We had barely begun to get acquainted with each other since the wedding, but already it was a mess, which was a gross understatement.

Sighing, I threw the knife onto the floor, acting bored.

"You're insane! You're an insane witch!" Mother screamed, rushing to Richard's side. Her look of concern for the man who had thrown a glass cup towards me made me actually gag.

"I'm insane? Hey Richard, guess where I learned this antic of threatening people with knives? That's right--from your dearly new wife. She probably never told you about the numerous times she threatened her own daughters with a knife, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!" she squawked, her eyes brimming with panic.

I grinned at that. Good, I was getting on her nerves. Richard said nothing but stare at the knife, at the shattered cup. As if he was assessing the situation like it was someone else's fucking problem.

"It never ceases to amaze me how age is just a number... since obviously I am the most mature one here, I'll excuse myself first, because I don't feel like bleeding anymore today."

With that, I left the house which was worse than hell, not having said another word.

The elevator took forever to get to the ground floor, and the ride up to the penthouse was excruciatingly slow. It had been so long since the last time I had blown up like that--Mother knew just how to get on my nerves to the point I could no longer hold back. But Richard was a new blow. Of course, I had never expected him to be a decent person, but still... Tears brimmed in my eyes, and my vision turned white as I seethed. Why did Mother always have to choose to entangle herself with people who hurt us? Hurt me?

A big motivator for my having agreed to this situation in the first place was for that very reason--I was afraid of Pete, of what he would do to Rose what he had done to me those years ago...

Of all her suitors, Pete was undoubtedly one of the worst. He was a raving lunatic whenever he got drunk, which was often, and he loved to lash out at me for whatever went wrong in his life. Got a crap hand at a lottery ticket? SLAP. Boss yell at him for doing work wrong? PUNCH. Mother fooling around with other guys at her work during those late nights at the bar? WHACK.

I could quite literally never do anything right per his standards, and the only reason he didn't extend his abuse to Rose at the time was because she was his blood, and the one principle he abided by was that "blood is thicker than water." I hate that phrase; it means horseshit. Why is our culture so dedicated to the idea that family equals protection, warmth, love and happiness? That's not universally true. People are just displacing their wants and desires on others because they refuse to live in a world where such cruelty happens on a daily basis.

Instinctively, my palm cupped my jaw, remembering the worst of Pete's tantrums--when he had kicked me in the face and my jaw had been fractured for two weeks. It had been so painful to endure, especially because Mother didn't want to let me to go to the doctor out of shame of what had happened. No, she was perfectly content to let me suffer in pain, so long as no one would blame her of being a terrible parent for failing to prevent this from happening in the first place.

My anger started to boil towards Rosalie now--where was she when that had occurred? She had been out with her friends. When she had returned and seen my face, her face had fallen and she had cried for me, but again what did she really do?

Absolutely nothing.

Why had I protected her this time? Why worry about what Pete, her father, could do--when he had never abused her to begin with? No, it was me who was abused and tortured; yet she never apologized, never told anyone, never went looking for help but utterly ignored me when I needed her for once...

It was hard to differentiate between the good memories with my sister and these memories that continued to haunt me, that I had completely forgotten until I was thrust back into this life. I hated living with them. I hated my family. And then I would feel guilty for thinking that way, for feeling resentment towards Rose when she was just a child at that time...

What about me? I was a child back then, too!

Stop victimizing yourself.

It's true. I've been through so much. Why do I only continue to suffer like this?

There's no good answer for that. If you want to blame anyone, blame God.

There is no God.

Then blame yourself.

Why? Why?

Rather than continue with that conversation in my head, I struggled to drag my ass into the penthouse unit at last--the destination was my bed. If I couldn't muster strength to get that far, then the couch. Hell, the floor would even do, if I could get some peace and quiet so I could think about nothing, nothing at all.

"Rina? Are you home?"

Great. In my current state, I definitely didn't have the capacity to deal with Heath right now.

Heath entered the living room, then his eyes widened when he saw me trying to take my shoes off at the doorway in my current state.

"What's happened to you? You look like shit."

I said nothing. My vision was going blurry, and the tension in my limbs was fading. I couldn't quite gather my surroundings, and eventually I crumpled to the floor--or fell? I couldn't tell. One second I was standing, albeit barely, then the next I wasn't anymore. Facing the black wooden floor, I felt my face fall down, down, until I was swallowed whole by the black hole that had opened up on the ground.

The last thing I heard was Heath shouting my name.

"Rina!"

[tangent101]

I've talked at length about this in the past. ^^

There is considerable evidence that William's death *really* messed up Max. For instance, we know that Max is not very scientifically-minded. However, she knew a powerful antidepressant on sight. She knew the drug name and what it was for and was hoping that Chloe was not having to take that medication. The suggestion is that Max knows about this medication because she was probably on it. Now, there's no evidence about it. But Max does has a non-specific learning disorder and anxiety.

We do know that Max stayed in touch with Chloe in the William Lives timeline, up until Chloe was paralyzed. She was also far more self-assured to the point that somehow she befriended Victoria and Nathan. This is a huge factor pointing at the intense psychological trauma that William's death played with Max. William living allows that Max to be someone who was far more well adjusted (up until catching a glimpse of her own mortality when Chloe was paralyzed).

So. Why hold off for five years? In that first year, Max was grieving. She was ripped away from the one person who understood and who grieved as well. But she couldn't reach out to Chloe, it was not her father who had died. So she suffered on her own while dealing with a new school where she was tossed in well over a month into the school year (thus being fresh meat who was likely bullied - and Max has a very poor opinion of bullies which suggests she's been at the receiving end of their "affections").

At some point, things came to a head. Listen to how Max talks about her parents prior to leaving Arcadia Bay... she and Chloe preferred playing in the Price Household, with Max's mom being less-than-pleased at picking up after her daughter and her friend. But when you look at their texts and the like, her parents are far more protective of Max. Why? Well, having a daughter who was bullied and who ended up needing to go on medication for depression can sometimes pull parents together so they fixate on their child in need. In short... Max likely went through hell after leaving Arcadia Bay, and Max's parents had to work overtime to help her cope.

(Case in point: even if Max saves Kate, her parents urge her to come home. They don't want Max at Blackwell but are allowing her to attend and in a way to spread her wings... and yet they still want to make sure Max is safe.)

There is one other thing to consider: it's difficult staying in touch with people. We see this IRL even in this day and age. Look at the contacts on your phone. Look at people you consider friends. When was the last time you talked to some of them? You get busy and then time passes and it's been a month or two! And then you feel awkward about getting in touch with them. After all, for a couple months you didn't say a thing!

Add in the trauma Max and Chloe were going through with William's death and there is a perfect storm going on to drive the girls apart.

(There was a missed opportunity as well. For instance, Max went a month-and-a-half without contacting Chloe. But what if Max had tried to leave a note on Chloe's door? And what if David had intercepted that note, wanting to keep Chloe isolated so he could properly "break" her hoping to "remake" Chloe into a "good soldier" then Max could have stated she left a note. Also, Chloe was doing quite well in school prior to Max leaving, and she was a year ahead of Max so as far as Max knew, Chloe was off to college. Why did Max not contact Chloe? Because she thought Chloe was off to college and she intended on getting in touch with Chloe during the Thanksgiving break. You could even have the original timeline restored, where the game would have taken place in the last week of October and allowed Kate a couple of weeks of torment to explain why she's not doing well, as well as giving a gap between Kate's Dark Room incident and Nathan drugging Chloe.)

tl;dr - Max fell out of touch because of grief and Depression. She likely didn't try to get back in touch with Chloe because she likely believed Chloe was off to college.

Why do you think Max didn't keep in touch with Chloe for those 5 years? Was it anxiety and guilt because of William's death? I don't really believe she wanted to "move on" from Chloe, as some people say. What are your thoughts?

I don't think there was ever a point in time when Max decided to cut contact with Chloe or to move on from their friendship. The five year gap just happened, due to a number of factors. Unfortunately, this is how it sometimes is - we end up hurting people we care about, even though we never meant to.

In Episode 1, when looking at a picture of her and Chloe playing pirates that she kept in her dorm room, Max says that she will eventually contact Chloe, and that she should do it now, because the longer she waits, the harder it will be to reach out.

So why did Max put it off for five years?

William's death certainly hit Max hard too. He was like family to her, like an uncle. In the recording William left for them to unearth, he says he's "bloody proud of the both of them". I don't think that in the immediate aftermath of William's death Max was able to comfort anyone, because she herself lost someone who was essentially a family member.

Max was thirteen when she was separated from Chloe. Even most adults have no idea how to comfort someone experiencing grief. So when she was done grieving William in her own way, she was probably hesitant to contact Chloe because she didn't know where to begin. Of course, the most important part of emotionally supporting someone is actually being there for them. There are no magical combinations of words that make people instantly feel better. Even if Max didn't know what to say, even if she would say something stupid or cliche, the mere fact that she reached out to Chloe would've made Chloe feel better. Less alone. Less hopeless. But once again, Max was thirteen/fourteen then. Let's not expect from a girl barely out of her tweens the emotional maturity that most adults don't have.

After some time contacting Chloe became harder and harder, because Max felt ashamed of her silence. So by putting off reaching out to Chloe she also put off dealing with that shame.

At some point Max also probably assumed that Chloe moved on or wouldn't forgive her. Max, before being reunited with Chloe, had serious problems with self-doubt and self-loathing. She tore up a photograph that would've won the contest, just because she didn't believe she could produce anything of value through her art. The entire nightmare sequence in Episode 5 is just that - Max's fears and doubts trying to overwhelm her mind. "Other Max" is that part of her that always tell her she's not good enough. That no one would want to be her friend if she didn't have her awesome power. When you have a part of your mind telling you things like that, it's easy to believe that your best friend has already moved on and you shouldn't even bother reaching out.

[prettyboykatsuki]

UM pleek advice i���m turning twenty soon nd i’m scared 🥹💔 ageism eating me alive i feel like i havent lived my teen years because Brown Parents just idk… IDK!!!! im over reacting i think but im crying everyday like my youth was stolen from me cuz abuse and insecurity and pandemic but idk what to do now i feel so lost and seeing ur posts u just seem so smart and excited about life and exploring urself so i come humbly for advice 😞

i know this feeling bc i have the same parents but like i really mean it when i say life doesn't start for a lot of people until they're 25-30+

i was blessed with older siblings and cousins in my life and pretty much all of them say the same thing. my cousins did all the fun teenager things and even so they're all so much happier now then they ever were before.

you're never gonna be 15 again, that's true. but the life you imagined or dreamed of living at 15 isn't the only life you'll ever live and really isn't even that important. you have a romantic idea of it because you never experienced it.

but you have the rest of your life. do you know how long that is? you're only 20. that's nothing. 25 is nothing. 30, 31, 32. you're just starting in comparison to the rest of your life. the only reason you feel that way is because you're suffocated and the idea that being young is everything but it simply isn't. statistically if you only live to be 60, you have 2 entire thirds left to exist.

don't listen to people on the internet who can't fathom being over 17. adulthood is only a curse if you glorify being young. and you're not even an adult. any real adult thinks you're a kid. the only person who thinks your old is a person who's sitting in calculus one who eats lunch at 10am. why are you listening to them anyway?

i don't especially like being young honestly. there's nothing i look forward to more than getting older every year. i want to be 50 with a garden. i want to spend the rest of my life being a good person. i am so comforted by the fact i still have all this time.

you are so lucky to be alive. you must believe that the time you have left is a gift.

being young is only easy for those who come from privilege. but any person with responsibilities knows how suffocatingly lonely it can be trying to care for yourself and make something of your life.

and it's because of that gradual reality that you have to believe life hasn't reached it's potential. that this isn't your limit. if you're incessantly thinking that you've wasted so much time, than how will you grow? if you're constantly chasing at teenage years that you'll never get again, how will you learn to love the fully realized version of yourself?

if you spend your 20's looking back how can you look forward to the rest of your life? is it fair to yourself to ignore all that's made you who you are, just because you missed out on certain experiences?

look at how far you've come. look at how much it's taken you. look at all this life you have left to keep pushing. i know it feels like you're meandering, but the virtue of living is gaining experience. every minute you engage the world is meaningful to your life and this isn't a hope thing but a universal truth. it is the only facet of existence that has been respected since the beginning of civilization. experience that you can only gain now by opening your eyes to whats around you.

life is hard now. you are going to do your best. and maybe your best is ugly. it never feels good enough. it's not as good as what other people do. but it's yours, so solely. and if all you ever do is worry about the life you haven't lived instead of cherishing the life you have, you're going to feel miserable and you don't have to feel that.

you'll never be 15 again not once. you'll never know what that's like and it sucks. i won't tell you to feel fine about what you might've missed because i know and i get it.

but maybe you only want to be 15 because you think it would've changed who you are now. maybe you think the you now isn't good enough.

but you are. and it is. and there's nothing to be afraid of. every day of living despite it's many solitudes is worth it. even the worst of your tomorrows are to be cherished. you are so young. a drop in the massive of sea.

but that means you can go anywhere and do anything. with time, with patience, with struggle, with tears. you have now and tomorrow. between then nothing will change. you will do it a thousand times, and then you will look back and suddenly be so different. this is your finicky existence.

the only way to not be afraid of getting older is believing with your heart that living is meaningful. count your blessings and celebrate your small joys. you have the rest of your life to do that. i think that alone is something worth celebrating.

[ramonag-if]

Hi!! How are you?✨I've finished the new chapter and I really loved it😍😍 But damn was it a punch in the gut, a slap in the face and a kick on the shin all at once😭 (venting ahead 👇😅😳)

When we rescued the prisoners and I read that that woman was actually our mum I literally started crying, I was so happy that after all this time we finally knew if she was alive or not... And then she tells us she has a new family?? That really hurt A LOT! My MC tries to always be optimistic, to look at the positive things in what is happening, but this time I really couldn't make one of these choices... There was the possibility to be happy to have a sibling, but really how can you be happy when you realize that after you thought she was keeping distance because it was dangerous for us, she was actually being all happy, with a new life and a new child like nothing happened?

I don't think she forgot about us, but she really just left whit Ahlf and then disappeared! We thought she was dead!! I don't know if MC will be able to forgive her, it is a difficult decision... On one end, my betrayed MC thinks that he lived all this time without her, so he will be able to continue to do so again; on the other, he has another possibility at knowing his mother... Now he only has to understand if it will be worth all the suffering he went through.

Sorry for all this venting, but on a happier note... 😂 Rana is a sweetheart, so precious 🥹 She even blushed in front of Irus and my MC was "Yes little one, I completely understand"😳😂 If there will be the chance to be a good big brother for her without interacting with mum too much, that's what MC will do❤️❤️ And actually fun fact: every time she came up in the narration I wanted to facepalm so bad, because I'm Italian and Rana actually means "frog"... So yeah, poor girl 😂😂😂❤️

Anyway, I'll stop here because otherwise I'll write too much😂 Thank you for your hard work and all the feelings and emotions you made us feel❤️❤️ Have a good day/night!!

I am doing well, thank you for asking 😊

Ah yes, the whole prison break led to an almost happy reunion 👀 Originally, Salyra was going to have been imprisoned for years with no new family, but that didn't fit in as much with the plot so I changed it a bit.

It's going to be up to players on how to respond to Salyra, the type of relationship you'll want with her going forward. Personally, I'm more invested in the distancing/angsty routes than with the reunion route because sappy forgiveness is a little boring to write 😅

Rana is quite adorable 😆 She'll be a little hesitant at first, but she'll come around to enjoy being around the MC if they're willing to become closer. Frog seems fitting for her character too since she's quite small for her age 😅

Thank you so much for playing and for being so supportive 💖

[hopefultingle]

Geralt’s Other Half (pt. 1)

A woman who goes by the name of Hope, one day gets taken into a world she has thought was only on television. The longer she stays, the more she realizes that maybe this place wasn’t unfamiliar to her after all. In which two complete opposite’s are connected through Destiny without even knowing.

In this story it doesn’t go by the show or games at all, I kind of made a twist on it. I’m not 100% knowledgeable on the witcher because I’ve only ever watched the show, so I’m sorry if it’s a little rough. Also, you can change her name and read it as an x reader if that is better for you

Angst, slow burn, asshole geralt, soft Geralt, protective Geralt, jealous Geralt, jealous reader/OC, 18+, violence of course, happy ending

Next

Ever since Hope was a little girl her life had felt off balance, like there was something... missing. She could never pin point exactly what she was missing, but as she aged this feeling grew and eventually she felt like she didn't belong in this world of hers at all. There was a feeling deeper inside her that made her feel like she was meant for something greater, like she was meant to be somewhere that was way out of her reach.

Life became tiring for the poor girl, constantly having to fake her smiles, her happiness, and her determination for what lies ahead of her. Never knowing if this soul sucking feeling would ever leave or if she was just cursed with it for the rest of her shitty life, but she has always hoped it was the latter. Sometimes while she's sitting there writing her little stories to escape the grim reality she lives in, she would think about how her life would be ten times better if she were to just be transported into an entirely different universe, maybe then the feeling that's been weighing on her for the past 20 years would finally be able to dissipate.

Though life is never that easy now is it? At least, that's what she thought until the utterly unexpected happened.

——————————

A white cloud of smoke leaves the petite girls plump lips as she tries to warm up her tiny frosted fingertips. The weather has turned to absolute shit in the past few days, climate change has really begun to fuck up the planet and she sadly had to suffer earths mighty wrath this horrible evening. Maybe only throwing on a thin sweater wasn't her best decision, she thinks to herself as little flurries of snow begin to fall around her and cover her body as she continues to speed walk down the busy street. Her meeting with her mother is far from what she would like to be doing right now and she would more than love to slow her pace to lengthen the time before she has to come face to face with the woman. Sadly, the weather though, seemed to be on her wretched mothers side. So here she was speed walking as fast as her little legs could carry her.

"Why must this world hate me?" She mutters out between her chattering teeth and like usual she doesn't get an answer, only a few odd stairs from the people walking by her.

The familiar exquisite looking cafe comes into view and she cant help, but roll her eyes like she always does when it comes into view. Her mother has always enjoyed ravishing in her husbands money and so she requests to meet at the most expensive cafe in town every. Single. Time.

You'd think Hope wouldn't mind, but no, she really minds, extremely minds. Her mother has no regards for money or other peoples struggles when it comes to herself. She expects and expects from her poor daughter, but leaves her hanging high and dry when it comes to finance or literally anything for that matter. Hope was almost homeless in her first year of college, which her mother had forced her to attend in the first place, because of the non existent funds she was qualified for and of course she didn't get a dime from neither her mother nor her step father. So Hope had to drop out to work a shitty 9-5 job just to be able to pay for her small, run down apartment and even then she barely could afford it. Therefore, yes, she really fucking minded seeing her wretched mothers infuriating face in a, 20 dollars a drink, cafe. Heavens forbid could she pay even a cent for a small drink for her, but no, she never does. So, the poor girl has to sit there starving and thirsty while listening to her mom berate her for her life choices.

As she begins to come to her last steps before being in front of the entrance, a weird feeling begins to swell from somewhere deep inside her. Her eyes furrow in confusion at the odd feeling forming, it was becoming even stronger than her constant feeling of being off balance and out of place. Instead of dwelling on it though, she puts it to the very back of her mind and writes it off as anxiety of the situation that was about to come. Her fingers wrap around the door handle and yanks the door wide open, a welcoming chime signalling everyone of her arrival. She spots her mother at a table dressed up in her expensive pencil skirt, with her silk tank and her long, furry, white coat that always makes Hope want to jump out a window at the sight of. The thing is horrendous and embarrassing, she never understood her moms infatuation with the thing.

She takes in a frustrated breath before stepping through the doorway, but instead of stepping into the familiar warm cafe, she steps into a... tavern?

Eyes wide in shock, her ears barely pick up the sound of singing coming from a certain bard just a little ways away. The muffled loud voices of the people spread throughout the room echo in her mind as she quickly whips her body around to look back through the wide open door that she had just stepped foot through. Instead of seeing the familiar street she's memorized like the back of her hand, she sees an unfamiliar dirt road filled with a few people in corsets and clothing that she's only ever seen in movies that are set in the medieval times.

"What in the bloody hell?!" Those words leave her mouth in a shout just before the feeling of a soft hand resting upon her shoulder causes her to jump in her shoes and spin around to face the stranger who touched her. Fear and shock pool around her orbs as she stares into a familiar man's eyes, but she can't even begin the fathom where she's seen him from before because there's no way in hell she's ever met the man in her life.

"Are you quite alright, little maiden?"

His British accent shocks her even more, that's when her ears begin to finally take notice on everyone else's bellowing voices around them and notices that they all seem to have the same accent as the man standing right in front of her.

Brownish, redish, curls shimmer back and forth as the scared woman shakes her head all while blubbering like a fish trying to breathe in air on the surface.

"I- yes I'm ok it's just..." her breath hitches as her heart begins to race, "where are we?"

The bards eyes finally leave the girls shocked face to rake over her small body. Never has he ever seen a woman like her, her garbs are something that no one he's ever crossed or bedded has ever worn.

She takes notice of the shift in emotion on his baby like face as they continue to stand there staring at each other in shock and amazement.

Just a few feet away from the two, a grumpy Witcher finally begins to take notice of his annoying companion's absence. It's become a somewhat norm to block out the bards obnoxiously loud voice, and so, he doesn't notice when that said bard had stopped singing and yapping in his ear.

"Fucking, bard." Geralt grumbles out before swivelling his massive top half around to skim his eyes across the room. He straight away finds the blokes god awful, greenish outfit, which almost makes him roll his eyes, but the petite figure in front of him causes him to freeze in his own skin. His chest starts to fill with that familiar feeling he has always awoken to after dreaming of that sweet girl who haunts him while he sleeps. He doesn't know what or why it happens, but it always does. Until now he didn't even think twice about it or who she was, thinking that his cursed mind had made up such a heavenly woman to torture him with, but no. Here she was. Standing there in those ridiculous, but oddly attractive clothing, and talking to the moronic bard.

"Fuck."

Without another thought, the massive Witcher stands up while keeping his eyes on the girls petite figure like she would just up and disappear the second he removed them. It's still hard for him to believe that his girl is actually here and a real breathing person. A grunt leaves his throat at his minds ridiculous thoughts of her possibly being his. As his feet take him closer and closer, a heavenly scent wafts through the air and into his nose. The smell is a mix between the soft smell of lavender and the strong, delicious, smell of pomegranate. The scent is so addicting that he doesn't even notice when he's made it to the duo.

The boy in front of Hope clears his throat while resting his hands on his hips and the next words to leave his mouth are said like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "We're in the city of Cintra, of course..." he pauses, "are you sure you are ok because what in the gods name are you wearing?!" She bites her lip nervously not understanding what the fuck is happening. Cintra? Where the fuck could that be? She thinks to herself as a giant figure catches her hazel doe eyes. With a flicker of her eyes, she catches the witchers gleaming yellow and orange ones and something inside her chest ignites like a flame. Her lips part slightly as their gazes stay locked.

Once he makes it to where he could reach out and touch her, he is then finally awoken from whatever daze he was put in. Locking eyes with her beautiful ones has made him able to put a name to the feeling in his chest. Belonging.

As the man her eyes are staying locked with is realizing this feeling, she is also realizing that her feeling of off balance has been completely wiped and replaced with that same electrifying feeling. She belongs here, wherever here is. Cintra? This massive man? This odd boy? She couldn't say, but she just knew that she had finally escaped that hell she had called a life and was about to finally begin the one she is meant to live. She doesn't know how she knows, she's just going by what the feeling running through her is telling her. She is meant to be here, meant to follow this breathtaking man with a stone cold face and somehow that excites her more than scares her. She has never been known to be the sane type of person after all.

"Hello?! Earth to the Witcher!" Jaskier snaps his fingers in front of the mans blank face causing an annoyed grumble to come from him and almost a second later, a death glare follows once he finally breaks eye contact with the woman.

With a clear of the throat she shakily holds out her hand in greeting, "Im Hope by the way, and you guys are?"

The two stare at her hand like it grew a face of its own, but she continues to keep her hand there awkwardly. When she finally about to pull it back dejectedly, the gruff, but attractive man, hesitantly does as she does. With a small smile she softly latches her hand around his and gently shakes it. A jolt shoots through each of them at the contact.

"Geralt." He grumbles out softly.

His voice sends chills down her spine and it takes every bone in her body to not physically shiver in pleasure. Who knew a man could look and sound like a Greek god. There's no way a man like himself could be anything, but that.

She smiles. Really smiles, for the first time ever and Geralt takes notice of this.

An odd feeling fills his chest which causes him to take his hand back quickly.

Her smile falters a tad, but it still stays as she says, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

She then turns towards the bard, and as her eyes really take him in, she freezes in realization.

Wait a minute, she thinks, there's no way...

She quickly turns back to Geralt in utter shock and says, "you're that Geralt of riv.. rivya? Uh-" Jaskier quickly cuts in, "Geralt of Rivia, yes! It seems she's heard of my song, aye Witcher?"

Geralt rolls his eyes and refrains from punching the bloke in the stomach after he had obnoxiously jabbed his boney elbow into the side of his stomach. "Your song is wrong and sounds like horseshit, Bard." Hope can't help, but to giggle at their light hearted interaction, which ends up doing things to the mans insides that he's never felt or ever wanted to feel before he found her. Her laugh sounds like soft wind chimes to his ears-

"M'no I haven't... well I have. That's just not how I know, it's because I'm very fond of watching compilations of the two of you..." she decides to keep the part of her being more fond of watching edits of the sexy Witcher, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of him anymore than she already has.

Jaskier looks at the odd woman like she's grown two heads and she looks right back at him with a soft smile that Geralt can't seem to stop staring at. "It's hasier right? Or something along those lines..." Her right hand shoots up to scratch the back of her head nervously. Hopefully the bard isn't too hurt by her butchering his name. She never had been one to be good with names, it's always been something she's embarrassed about.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish breathing in air, "it is Jaskier, little maidan!"

Geralt cant hold back the deep chortle that leaves his mouth which causes the bard to glare at him, "this isn't funny, Geralt!"

"Hmm. I find it quite amusing."

Hope quickly cuts in. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean-"

The threes conversation is rudely interrupted by an angry mans shout.

"Hey! Yous better get outta the door way before I kick yous all out!"

Jaskier is quick to apologize and quickly ushers, or more like attempts, the Witcher to the bar with Hope following not too far behind. That's when her eyes take their time to roam over the broad mans back, never in a million years would she have ever thought she'd be here staring at the Geralt of Rivia. This shouldn't even be possible, but here she is.

He's got a very nice back, she thinks.

Her eyes begin to ascend lower and land on a certain area that she probably shouldn't be looking at.

And an even nicer ass, she blushes while quickly looking away.

The two men sit on a stool while Hope stands behind them awkwardly. She's not sure if she's welcome to sit beside the large man or if he'd rather her leave them be. She also remembers how annoyed he could get with Jaskier. So, If that's the case then where the fuck would she go? She hardly knows anything of this world, one step outside and she'd most likely be killed. With a nervous bite of her lip, she timidly sits on the stool that's close to Geralt. While doing so, her arm lightly brushes against his and his body goes ridged at the feeling the contact causes. This goes unnoticed by her of course, and she mumbles out an apology.

It's quiet among the two of them as Jaskier starts singing and wooing the woman next to him. What a fool, she thinks to herself as an almost silent giggle leaves her lips at the sight of a tall man standing up behind the woman, which causes Jaskier to splutter out apologies.

A gruff sigh is heard from Geralt. This makes her eyes switch to looking at him and she feels herself slightly melt at the sight of him. How can this brooding man that kills things for a living and who she had literally just met, be already making her feel this way. Then again she's always known that shes the type to fall too quickly and too hard for all her life. Even though, this time it feels different... almost feels like these feelings were meant to blossom. She's taken out of her thoughts by Geralts gruff voice speaking to her.

"Hungry?"

She looks away in embarrassment when those beautiful golden eyes meet hers. Jesus Christ Hope, you gotta stop staring at the poor man, she scolds herself.

"No, uh no. It's ok, I wouldn't want you to use your money on me."

He doesn't listen to her and instead gets the barmaids attention. The girl gives him a disgusted look, "what you want mutant scum?"

Rage swells in Hopes chest, wanting nothing more than to punch the hideous woman in her face for speaking that way to him. Though, instead she chooses to send her sharp daggers. She had honestly forgotten how disgusting people could be towards him in this universe.

Geralt looks over to her out of the corner of his eye and can't help, but think of how cute the little woman is when she's angry. She's like a kitten.

"I'll take a baked potato and two ales."

The barmaiden just crosses her arms.

"An abomination like you ain't deserve a crum of-"

Hope can't take it anymore and slams her soft palms against the wooden table, the rage from before is boiling and she wouldn't be surprised if smoke was coming out the top of her head.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

The woman's shocked eyes meet her slitted ones. The whole room falls silent, while all eyes fall on her, but all she can see is red and that god awful wrench of a woman.

"You have no fucking right to talk to him like that, you fucking goblin. If anything you don't deserve Jack shit for your nasty ass attitude! How fucki-"

"Hope..." Geralt grumbles.

"-ng dare you even say those disgusting-"

"Hope." He says in a more sharper tone.

Jaskier is now standing behind the two nervously, he can feel the heated stares of some of the men around the tavern. Oh this is bad, he thinks.

"Geralt is a-"

"Hope!"

Geralt shouts louder this time, making the small woman jump and look at him with a look of fear and shame.

"Who the fuck does this whore think she is?!" One of the men shouts causing a few others to join in with him. Fear washes over Hope like a freezing ice cold waterfall.

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen! There's no need for such hostility, it was all just a misunderstanding. Right little maidan?" Jaskier tries to quickly diffuse the situation while wrapping his arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

Geralts massive build stands up abruptly while letting out a threatening growl. Without turning around he barks back, "you better watch your mouths."

Jaskier chuckles nervously knowing that this could only get worse the longer it goes on, the brute is known to have a short temper as of lately. He quickly starts taking Hope with him to the front entrance just in case things escalated, he didn't want the poor girl to get in the middle of it all.

"Geralt! Let's just leave, it's not worth the time" Jaskier hollers at him. Geralt seems to pause for a second before throwing a pouch of coin onto the table.

"For the ale," he grumbles out angrily in distaste and then makes his way over to the two. Shouts of protests and slurs are thrown at the three as they finally barge out of the Tavern and out into the cool fresh air.

Hope takes a few steps away from the two before hunching over with her hands on her knees. Short breaths leave her airway as her heart tries to calm down, she didn't expect things to escalate like that.

"Well that sure escalated quickly. I thought they ought to have your heads on a stick and fed to the wolves if we didn't leave." Jaskier paces back and forth as Geralt watches Hope out of the corner of his eye in slight worry.

After a minute her breathing finally evens out and so, she slowly stands back up into a straight position. Her eyes then fall to the ground in shame, "I'm so sorry... I don't know what came over me."

A faint sigh leaves Geralts lips. Jaskier turns around to watch as the man takes a few slow steps up to her. His eyes then drop to Geralts hand as it hesitantly lifts to rest on her small shoulder. Shock is what Jaskier feels at the small inkling of affection the Witcher is showing. Not once has he seen him comfort anyone. Not even Yennefer, and those two had some weird thing going on.

Hope tenses for a split second before her body melts at the feeling of his large hand touching her. "You need to be more careful..." a hint of worry is laced in his voice and she looks up into his beautiful eyes.

"I know, especially since I'm not from here, but..." her eyes close and a sad sigh leaves those captivating lips of hers that Geralt can't seem to stop staring at now.

"What that woman said was very uncalled for and I wasn't about to let it slide. You don't deserve to be treated like that, Geralt." Her eyes open once again and they stare into each other's souls. He felt like she could see every inch, every little nook and cranny, of his soul. Like she could see past his thick and never ending wall that he's kept up ever since becoming a witcher. This scared the shit out of him. "Hmm."

His hand slides off her shoulder before beginning to make his way down the street to an inn.

She watches his retreating figure with worried eyes as another hand gently pats her back. She looks to the side of Jaskiers face and asks solemnly, "is he mad?"

He shakes his head and starts walking, "the brutes not much for words so do not fret. Now come, wouldn't want to leave a little lady to fend for herself, now would we?" A smile graces her face at his playfulness, she's always liked that about his character. She gently shakes her head before lightly jogging up to his side so that they can walk together.

"You know Jaskier..."

He side glances at her and hums in question.  "You're quite funny and adorable," a bright grin spreads along his features causing a little giggle to escape from her. "Well I've been told often that I am quite the charmer, lil lady."

Jaskier feels a light jab against his shoulder, "oh yeah, I'm sure you hear that all the time you frog." The shocked face he makes reminds her of the scene where Geralt told him about his opinion on his singing and she can't help, but let out a loud laugh. "You and Geralt are utterly ridiculous! A frog?! I do not look like such a slimy foul creature!" He shouts in slight anger and hurt, which causes a loud snort from the Witcher who is now just only a few paces in front of them, "are you sure your mother didn't fuck a frog, Jaskier?"

He storms ahead in fury causing another set of laughter from Hope. Geralt secretly slows down his steps to let her little legs catch up to his, and she gives him a smile that he catches out of the corner of his eye. He fights himself as a tiny smile forms on his face as they begin walking at a normal pace again. Up ahead Jaskier halts and whirls around on the two, "no you know what! I demand an apology right this instant!"

As they pass him on each of his side Geralt hums while Hope giggles and rubs his shoulder, "I'm sorry, froggy."

A full on smug smirk graces Geralts face now as Jaskier chases after them while cussing them out. Hope looks up at him and can't help, but to be blown away by his smirk. God she's falling way too hard and too fast, but she can't seem to find a care in the world.

It felt right.

It felt like destiny.

[silverynight]

Dead End

<---Previous

Part XI

"Actually, you go ahead," she makes a gesture with the knife. "In front of me. Let's try to get out without anyone seeing us."

Tanjirou knows he should try to escape, but getting out also means he can see Tomioka and perhaps warn him or try to help him.

"What's your name?" Tanjirou can't see her face anymore, he can only look ahead; he's trying to think about the best path to get out without being detected.

"Does it matter?" She asks after a pause, her voice sounds curious, but also surprised. "I get why you wanted to know it before, but now... Why do you care?"

"I can't help caring about other people..." He admits. Tanjirou knows everyone makes mistakes and he usually tries to understand their motivations behind their actions... he really does. There's probably just one person Tanjirou can say he truly doesn't like and that's Muzan.

"They call me Daki."

"I don't think that's your real name."

"It's the only one you get to know," Daki hisses behind him; there's probably something about the other name, the real one that she doesn't want to remember.

Tanjirou wonders if she has suffered before... If that was one of the reasons she decided to work for Kibutsuji.

They're doing good so far; Tanjirou thinks there's a possibility they can make it out of there because the archers are probably focused on the man trying to get inside. They're probably trying to help Tomioka.

"Tanjirou!" A kakushi runs into him on his way to the main door. "You shouldn't be here, it's dangerous."

She hasn't noticed the knife... Tanjirou's body must be blocking her view. It's alright, he wants to avoid a conflict.

"You're right. I'll go back to my room..."

"Wait. Who are you? I haven't seen you before," the poor kakushi girl takes a step closer and Tanjirou can tell the exact moment she sees the knife, just by the way her eyes shadow with fear.

Tanjirou hears the movement; he knows Daki is going to do something risky to avoid someone else finding out and he's mostly sure it involves hurting the kakushi.

So he jumps in front of her. A sharp pain on his left side makes him groan. The kakushi runs and Tanjirou has the time to turn around to see a very angry, but scared Daki in front of him.

"You're an idiot!" The girl hisses, although it seems like she's about to panic. "I'm not supposed to hurt you! My lord wants you alive!"

Grimacing in pain, Tanjirou presses his hand against the wound and notices that the knife is on the ground, covered in blood.

"I'll... survive."

"Big brother!" Daki yells; she probably doesn't care about being seen anymore because Tanjirou is sure everyone nearby heard her.

Tanjirou takes a step closer, but feels terribly dizzy and weak, perhaps he's losing more blood than he thought.

"Daki... Listen, I..." He can't see for a second, everything turns black, but Tanjirou blinks, forcing himself to focus.

Someone is screaming... They're very close; Tanjirou worries about Tomioka, but then he hears a familiar voice.

"Tanjirou, I'm glad you're–" that's the moment Uzui notices the blood and Tanjirou's pale face before he turns his head to look at Daki. The girl hisses like she's ready to fight, but Uzui's demeanor has changed completely.

Tanjirou has never seen him like that before; he's furious, he looks absolutely terrifying.

Even Daki turns white. She takes a step back at the same time Tanjirou falls to his knees.

"Wait, Tengen-san... She didn't mean to hurt me, she..." Tanjirou stops because talking is really difficult now and because he realizes that even though she didn't mean to stab him, she was probably going to kill the kakushi. She probably wants to kill Uzui...

"She was going to take you to Kibutsuji, which is far worse," he's furious, his voice is vicious and his eyes are full of hatred, but also worry for Tanjirou.

This is why everyone is so afraid of the Pillars...

Everything turns black again, but this time Tanjirou can't fight it, he can't remain awake. He passes out, worrying about his hashira and everyone around him. The last thing he remembers is Nezuko calling out his name...

She finally used her voice again...

***

Maybe it's just a dream, but now that he thinks about it, dreams don't usually hurt that much...

He knows there's chaos around him; Aoi is screaming, ordering people to move out of the way while Tanjirou is being carried... It hurts, everything hurts and he can barely breathe...

He can't even open his eyes, but he can hear a few things. Is that Tomioka's voice? And Uzui's?

Unfortunately, his body gives up again and he gets sucked into darkness... A long state of unconsciousness without dreams.

The first thing he sees when he wakes up is Nezuko and that makes him feel better immediately. However, when the girl finally looks up, he realizes that she's been crying.

But she's not the only one.

"My love!" Kanroji sobs, cupping Tanjirou's face in her hands. "We were so worried about you!"

After blinking a couple of times, Tanjirou notices that all the hashira are there with him; Uzui's left arm is completely covered in bandages and it looks like he can't move it at all, Tomioka has a few scratches on his face, but he looks fine.

"You were about to die," Iguro speaks then and his words carry so much sorrow and hurt Tanjirou doesn't need to see the others' faces to understand they've been through hell because of him.

"I..."

"We want to get married to you," Tokito mumbles then, prompting Tanjirou to blush to the tip of his ears.

The Pillars look so determined, so sure about it that Tanjirou thinks... No, he knows there's something they're not telling him.

"But we just... started dating. Am I going to die?"

"No," Kocho answers immediately and sincerely. However, Tanjirou regrets asking that because the mention of it makes them flinch like they're in so much pain. "We wouldn't be so calm if that was the case..."

"No they wouldn't," Aoi mumbles then, getting closer before putting a hand over Tanjirou's forehead. "You didn't see them... They were so... broken when we thought you weren't going to make it."

Nezuko sobs next to him and Tanjirou pulls her closer to his chest, even though it still hurts a little. Then, Himejima approaches and kneels next to the bed to cradle Tanjirou's face in his hands.

"Please, marry us, Tanjirou."

"What happened to Daki and her brother?"

"We killed them," Uzui says then without remorse in his voice.

"They deserved worse," Shinazugawa growls, his eyes find Tanjirou's before he looks away like he can't stand seeing him like that.

Tanjirou knows they invaded the hashira's territory, he knows they came to kill the Pillars and take him away, but a part of him still feels bad for the siblings. The only monster there is Muzan...

"What happens now?"

"We take care of you until you're completely healed of course!" Kanroji smiles, wiping her own tears away before leaning closer to kiss his hand.

"And then we get married, my boy! Please say yes!" Rengoku grins, right before he rushes to his side to kiss him all over the face.

A giggle escapes from his lips and he notices how the others smile as soon as they listen to his laughter...

But then, an idea pops up into his head, something about the marriage is worrying him...

"But... Muzan will find out about his assassins, he'll know they failed. He'll send more–"

"We're going to take you and Nezuko to a safe place," Kocho cuts him off, taking his hand, he hadn't even noticed he was shaking.

"And after we get married we'll find him and kill him so he doesn't hurt you ever again," Tomioka adds with fierce look on his face. They all look determined and furious...

"No... You'll–He'll go after you if you do that, I don't want anything happening to you," Tanjirou shivers, trying to hold back a sob... Shinazugawa moves closer and holds him into his arms. He's being particularly soft that day.

Usually, this is the part where they start promising and assuring him they'll be back, that nothing can keep them apart from him.

And that's when Tanjirou finally realizes what's going on.

"You said after the wedding..." Tanjirou mumbles, unable to hold back a sob.

"Tanjirou–"

He shakes his head, cutting Iguro off.

"You want to get married because you're afraid you're not going to make it!" Tanjirou doesn't even bother to wipe his tears off. He moves away from Shinazugawa and goes back to cuddling Nezuko instead. "You're... You don't know if you're going to see me again! You have to come back to me!"

Himejima touches his shoulder but Tanjirou moves away from his touch; it hurts him, it hurts them all, but Tanjirou can't help it. He doesn't want anyone to die for him. He doesn't want to lose them.

"Don't go..."

"Kibutsuji won't stop hunting you. It's the only way," Tokito tries to reason, but Tanjirou shakes his head.

"Stop sacrificing yourselves for me!" He glances at Uzui's injured arm and sobs. "Why do you do that?"

"Isn't it obvious at this point?" Iguro asks, he looks oddly calm, but Tanjirou knows him enough at this point to know he's suffering as much as the others.

"If you let me go–"

Shinazugawa growls, startling Tanjirou for a moment, however, the one that actually says something is Uzui and he doesn't look happy.

"A few minutes ago, we thought we were going to lose you... I've never experienced so much fear or despair in my whole life, Tanjirou. Don't make me–don't ask us to go through that again."

"Our lives are much better with you in them, Tanjirou," Rengoku says in a whisper full of emotion.

"Then why do you want to leave me?"

"We'll do anything to come back to you, you know that," Tokito says then, trying to reach out to him, but Tanjirou refuses to be touched by any of them...

"But we won't lie to you, there's a possibility that we don't... That we won't make it," Kocho cuts in, making Tanjirou's heart break. "Maybe some of us will and they'll make sure to take care of you and love you for the ones that can't come back or..."

She stops, but Tanjirou doesn't need her to say it out loud to know what she left unsaid.

Or maybe none of them come back and Tanjirou's heart breaks into tiny pieces.

"I don't want you to go."

"We will anyway," Shinazugawa says.

"Let me go with you."

"No."

It doesn't matter who said that because Tanjirou knows they all think the same; they won't let him help.

"I'm not going to marry you," he mumbles then, after a long pause. The Pillars look back at him with shock and pain in their eyes. "Not like this."

"But..." Kanroji stops the moment she looks into his eyes. She nods after a while. "It's... okay."

Tanjirou is already regretting his decision, but he can't help it, he's still too hurt, confused and scared of losing them to think about it properly.

"Would you please leave me alone with my sister? I need to... I just–please leave."

They don't question it, but Tanjirou can see in their eyes, in the way they move that he's hurting them.

When they finally leave, he moves closer to Nezuko and feels her arms around him, she starts stroking his back when she whispers:

"Tanjirou."

Shocked, he moves away to look at her in the eyes.

"You spoke! I didn't dream that!"

However, she starts signing again.

I'm trying.

"It's okay! You don't have to! Saying my name was more than enough, Nezuko!" He mumbles, feeling a little bit better. "But you don't have to force yourself for me, okay? It doesn't matter if you're not ready yet or if you don't want to speak ever again. I love you no matter what!"

I know. She chuckles, however the smile vanishes as soon as it appeared. I was so scared for you, we all were.

"I'm sorry..."

It's okay, you need to rest. We can talk about it tomorrow... We need to talk about them tomorrow.

Tanjirou nods, glad she doesn't insist because he doesn't want to think about what happened anymore...

***

Next--->

Patreon

[mochikeiji]

Renascent

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x F!Reader

↠ Warning: mild manga spoiler mention, daddy! gojo, pure softness, hurt/comfort

↠ a/n: i love soft daddy gojo, it's my comfort piece (T^T) my baby fever flowing off the charts

↬ Word Count: 1.7k

Who knew that the domestic living felt so heavenly apart from the gruesome life Gojo was raised to witness. Never did it cross in his head that he'd get married. Heck no one expected someone would last with him for almost 7 years. It was a pleasant change of lifestyle, though it had been long since you were both in a relationship, he assumed that what you did in the past was already like something a married couple would do.

While he was right, the honeymoon phase didn't pass up between you two. Gojo was still the ever loving, affectionate person he was for his age. The only thing that thankfully grew was his maturity and acts of being responsible. Your married life has been nothing but cloud 9. It reached to the point where he became speechless and for the first time, numb when another human was welcomed to his world.

He swore from the moment he saw you that he'd never spare even the slightest attention to anyone. But for the moment, Gojo feels himself fall madly in love when the small bundle of joy laid on his stiff arms comfortably. Whether it was the way his baby fits perfectly in his embrace, the tiny body protected by his scarred, large figure, or when his big thumb was grabbed by smaller ones that barely engulfed the digit. He was reborn once again. You recalled his little whisper about how it hasn't even been a second, the little girl you've given him already made him weak in the knees and given up his every thing.

You should've taken a picture. If it was possible to cry and look beautiful, Gojo won, no complaints. But also because you wanted to capture his uncovered eyes, swimming with softness behind the glassy texture. You didn't say anything to ruin the little bond he's sharing with your little one.

Now he was attached every where your daughter would be. When she slept in her crib Gojo pleaded that he'd move it closer to your bed side, claiming so that he could watch over her closer and that there may be curses lurking any where around the area. Even if he's casted a protective veil ahead of time before birth. Sometimes you'd catch him late at night still wide awake. His finger would wiggle between the bars of the crib to entertain the also awoken baby in a way to lull her to sleep.

When you're in deep sleep next to your husband, you will be awoken to the sight of your baby in between your heads. No matter how many times you scold him for placing her in a spot where maybe one of you would probably suffocate(which will not happen because his and your instincts are off charts) he'd sheepishly smile at you claiming that having her close helps him sleep more than constantly checking after five minutes if she was still there, breathing and okay. Megumi was in the same state of shock as every one was seeing how the troublemaker who raised him turned out to be a different person. Poor Megumi had to suffer not only the duo knucklehead's teasing about being the jealous child, but also the second years. 

It was a sight to behold how soft he's been lately. Attentive in every cry of needing a change of diaper, cry for milk, or a cry for attention or disturbance, Gojo would race you to it. How he balances his time in parenting and working late hours concerned you. Nothing has been the same ever since the multiple deaths of his former colleagues and teacher. To juggle around the bricks of disintegrated despair had him with a heavy heart. He doesn't know why he deserves to have the chance to have a family, but he knows it's his way of living for the those who's lost theirs and wanted the same paradise he has.

Through out the guilt and cruelty of the world that had rampaged on the innocent, there beside him fast asleep was the little one that held his existence together from falling deeper into his own melancholy with tiny, squishy hands. While you were finishing up in the showers, Gojo fights back the fluttering of his eyes, clearly in need of sleep after a long day of assisting the students and a couple of files from the pestering elders. A developed habit of his was to keep a sharp eye on his child at all times and close to him. He's done it before with you, it's funny how it heightened more on his daughter.

Seeing him fight the slumber his baby was already in was adorable, especially when he had a protective hand on her side and kept nuzzling the tiny body to his face. "Satoru, honey, you can sleep you know." placing down the dirty laundry. "You need sleep."

Having to be woken up a bit by your sweet voice, he melts and purrs quietly having his scalp scratched by you in hopes he'd rest for the night. "I can't keep my eyes off her."

"I'm here now, I'll put her back in the crib since she's fast asleep. You don't need to worry too much."

"I don't want her in the crib." whining, his long legs curls up to his stomach forming himself as a ball, the need to be closer to the his baby while pouting tiredly, "I feel like if I take a second away from looking, she'll be taken too."

After being sealed in the prism realm and returning to so much loss, though Gojo will never show how much this affected him. It was as if he was living the nightmare of his high school days once more. To think that having him gone would cost more than a spilled blood from a fighter, makes him wish he could split his body just so he can be there for every one. To save them.

But he has to remember his own proclaimed words that he can only rescue those who he can reach.

Your heart pinched whenever your husband would show vulnerability. He had been the loneliest for as long as he can remember to talk to someone about his own worries, "She won't be taken. She's safe here with us."

"You know I've never felt this completed in my life." having your genes and his mixed into the this very human in his arms amazes him until now, he couldn't help but trace gently a finger across from her puffed up cheek to the tiny button nose, "I've never been more terrified of the thought of losing you and her more than ever. Never been afraid of ending up lonely." he whispers in a tone slightly going higher, thinking he was also talking to the baby.

"I don't want to close my eyes or go anywhere and wake up to lose all of this."

Coming down to your side of the bed, finally having his face in your vision. There wasn't just exhaustion in his bright blue eyes that peered in adoration of your child— it more than a simple, fond fatherly look. If eyes could talk, you could understand how they were pleading for what they look at to never disappear from sight. To never become the replica of the past. He wanted to cry for mercy, to no longer take any of what was dear to him. If it means he has to give up these good for nothing abilities, he would for the sake of of all that is good.

"You make me happy— she makes me happy." squishing his cheek gently to hers, "I don't want to lose that too."

"You'll never lose us, Satoru." you cooed as you reached over to cup his jaw, stroking carefully the side of his face in process of closing his eyes, "So don't lose yourself for us. Please."

He holds onto the back of your hand in gratitude. Silently spilling an i love you for sheltering him from his conflicts. The people didn't lie when they said he had the whole world in his hands; an innocent child and a soulmate he could never be enough of. They didn't know that those were the only world that made him breath lively again.

A small whimper between you interrupted the approaching slumber he was about to achieve. "Hey, hey, did daddy wake you?" patting the distressed child by her bum, "I'm sorry, shhh." through kisses and cooing pressed on her scrunched up face, he wins over the cries of your daughter who fell back into dreamland happily. Gojo re adjusting his position in bed to stretch his arms to embrace you both, resting his hand on your hip.

With your lids feeling heavy already, you removed the hand on your hip and instead, held on them close to where your heart was beating. A reminder for Gojo that you weren't going anywhere along with the cute snores from the person between you. Gojo doesn't fall right asleep after you, he likes to take his time doing his sappy routine of watching both of his favorite girls snuggled near him. They did say you don't know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory. Even if he's done this all the time it never grows old. In a world where any time anyone could be taken away, every thing mattered.

He's never had one final moments with the fallen— he knows he can never laugh fully at the game of life and death. He knows he can't recover fast after losing too many pieces of the puzzle. But he can always build a new one and solve it together with what he has. The pieces cannot be replaced, but from there he knows it'll become an utterly different masterpiece. One where both heaven and earth can smile upon. You lose something, you gain something. As silly as it sounds, Gojo understood more as he held onto you and cuddling closer to the baby. It'll be okay. There's no telling when and where, but what matters most is that he still has a part of his family before and now he swore to protect.

Finally, Gojo sleeps in the hands of his world. Knowing it'll be there when he wakes up.

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[rphelperblog]

Chicago Med Rp Meme

inspired by @whomuses​

“What’s the difference between God and a doctor? God knows he’s not a doctor.”

“Every dumb, mean, stupid, vicious thing gets a light shown on it. The world would be a much better place, a much safer place, if people would just shut up.”

“Pride. It can literally kill you”

“People think sex is a touchy subject. Believe me, money is a lot touchier”

“You can’t erase things, but you can write over them.”

“Yeah, younger patients are the hardest. Very tough to draw a line between an actual disorder and good old fashioned adolescence.”

“Losing hope is not a sign of mental illness. It’s a sign of being human.”

“I became a doctor to save peoples lives!”

“In any case, the problem’s been resolved, and we can get back to business, saving lives, making money.”

“Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after you.”

“Another maniac going crazy in a theater. This the world we live in?”

“Try thinking like a doctor and not like a pregnant woman.”

You have my permission to go ahead as long as you can do so safely.”

Oh my gosh. Is everyone all right?”

Nobody’s dead.”

Great. When were you going to tell me?”

Maybe I just got tired of hearing the sound of my own voice.”

You hired a nurse for a reason.”

It's my decision! And I don't appreciate you trying to recruit more soldiers to your cause.”

No, I don't want to talk to my husband directly. That's why I hired a lawyer.”

I know you judge me, but in my country I was persecuted. I had to flee.”

I'm a surgeon. Show some respect.”

Those girls would have gone to someone else. At least I know what I'm doing.”

Hate me. Hate me as much as you want, bro. But I ain't walking away til I geet your consent for the surgery.”

Stop telling me things I already know.”

That you got off the black market because you don't have a license.”

I thought you said they were trying to help.”

How long have you been an alcoholic?”

You don't beat around the bush.”

They didn't do anything wrong. They shouldn't be punished.”

we can't let this play out in the media. The court that's really going to matter is the court of public opinion.”

That's quite a look. You enjoying hitting the lanes?”

It's mostly a fashion statement, but I do enjoy rolling a ball once in a while.”

Good. One less crisis to worry about but this guy's still trying to die.”

So you're putting me in purgatory instead?”

Okay. So we're on safe ground legally. What about morally?”

You are, but we're running out of time.”

How are your 15 minutes going?”

Yep. And two vaccinated, consenting adults.”

An innocent little baby had to suffer while there are a bunch of crooks in this world who get away with everything.”

For a soldier to ask for help, for a soldier to be afraid they might be one of 'them', that they could fall apart at any second.”

I think of people like you, people who served over there. You have so much courage, but when it comes to saving yourselves...”

Poor little girl. What did she ever do to deserve this?”

Is this gonna keep happening? Is it gonna get worse?”

I would too. That's why I like it down here. I'm -- I'm not good with suffering. It's just...too much up there.”

Nice fricking move. Right on sister. I knew you were smart.”

He's given me so much. How do I ever pay that back? “

How do you know you haven't already?”

I guess we're all given our measure of suffering. God's medicine”

I promise, from now on, I'll never argue with you.”

You will be an attending, so you won't have to argue with me. You can just boss me around.”

My fear is, is that you're gonna find a way to get yourself kicked off the staff. I'm curious to see how long it'll take.”

You dope. Nobody overrules him.”

Damned if you do and damned if you don't. I admit, it's a bit of a double standard. What can I say?”

I'm pretty sure that if that were me, I'd be raked over the coals by you right now.”

It doesn't have to make sense to us. If he believed he would longer if his wounds were dressed in green bandages, then we give him green bandages.”

Oh, come on, they barely have the energy to play canasta...whatever that is.”

It's not my job to listen. I'm a doctor. It's my job to decide what's best for him. “

You know, there's a reason for that. There's this new study out, says dating can lead to marriage.”

It's just a friendly dinner.”

Wonderful, the guy enforcing the rules is the one who's always breaking them.”

I suspect it was ego more than altruism. Great surgeons know the balance. You're confident, not arrogant. I like that,”

he totally snores, but I don't mind. Oh, he does this thing where he shoots his dirty boxers into the hamper like a buzzer beater. [beat] Anyway, it's cute.”

totally snores, but I don't mind. Oh, he does this thing where he shoots his dirty boxers into the hamper like a buzzer beater. [beat] Anyway, it's cute.

And discipline? Is that a nice way of saying I'm a tight ass?”

What you're doing may be legal, but it sure as hell isn't right. “

This is an emotional process. I can understand you're upset.”

Is this a happy ending?”

you think you know better...sounds like something you'd bust my balls for.”

This is why we all worked so hard to send you to medical school? So you could keep a bunch of party animals from getting hangovers?”

You've got to be kidding me. Ginger Spice is our doctor!”

Some idiot in supply added a zero to my order, so instead of four dozen, I...”

I always kind of envied the kids who went to church. You know, they were part of something. It's like they had their own tribe.

Oh, family drama, now you're in my wheelhouse!

You're family. We rise and fall together.

Only as often as the state requires.

So they ever give you guys breaks?

Then again, how many jobs are there where you literally get to save lives? 

Hey, take it from a former alter boy. Baptism's a piece of cake. A lot easier than a bris.

But I'm not religious. Wouldn't it be hypocritical?

Eh, think of it like a vaccination. Do it and get it over with.

Do you know the single greatest challenge that I face is trying to convince people that depression isn't a sign of weakness?

You're a good doctor. The world needs good doctors, you ass.

You don't like Chicago style popcorn? 

Mixing caramel and cheese flavors?

Sweet and salty. It's the greatest duo.

you're my brother, and I love you. But you need to grow up.

Why do you always take things out on me?

You know, when I'm faced with a snarling dog, I try to remind myself it's self-preservation that's making him show his teeth.

You don't have to show me how smart you are. And you don't have to please me. Just learn.

I've been an ass. Not just today -- since last week. Before that. I should not have yelled at you.

You? Wrong? Amazing.

Boy's will always want to be better than their fathers, which is precisely what their fathers want.

Oh, come on -- sport's the oldest form of group therapy. We yell, we scream. Testosterone spikes. Every now and then, we even get to believe in a miracle.

People do that sometimes. They sense they're at the end and they just want to die in a clean bed.

He saw something. You'll have to ask him when he wakes up.

This is not about you. This about *her* and what *she* wanted.

[growingstronglikeahighgardenrose]

Will Charlotte get a choice?

Is Colonel Lennox even a real contender or is he a liar whose backstory will come back to bite him? Spoilers up ahead, obviously.

Lennox, I admit, makes a dashing first impression. He's charming, he's funny, he's got abbs, he shows genuine interest in Charlotte and says he admires some spunk and independence in a woman, and he has quite good game.

Obviously both Charlotte's potential suitors, Lennox and Colbourne, have some history. Even with each other. The actors admitted in the interviews that Lennox and Colbourne had a - and I quote - "spicy" relationship.

So what's going on? Here's what we know:

Lennox encourages Tom to gamble

Lennox trusts Edward (not a good look)

Lennox is a war hero

Lennox "does not have that pleasure" of a wife and child, or so he tells Charlotte, Georgiana and Alison

Colbourne is a conservative recluse who has lived on the outskirts of Sanditon for "some years"

Colbourne had a wife who died under mysterious circumstances

Colbourne daughter Leonora looks to be younger than 10, probably 7-8. He also looks after his brother/sister's daughter Augusta, who says she's been living in the "prison" that is Colbourne's house for a few years

Colbourne says something about "trust me miss heywood, I know what happens when a woman falls wrong of society's expectations" which gives us the idea that Colbourne knows a particularly sad story about a woman who didn't adhere to the rules of society and paid the price.

In episode 3 Lennox accuses Colbourne of stealing his wife

Lennox and Colbourne have their real first showdown at Lady D's garden party in episode 4 (according to episode descriptions) where they will shoot arrows

According to the episode 5 description, he and Colbourne will fight about Charlotte

Okay, Sanditon, from its very first season, has always used plot points and story beats from the finished Jane Austen novels. So let's play "who is it" with the characters and plot points, and try and guess how the story might turn out from there. My apologies beforehand but I avoid Mansfield Park like the plague so if there's parallel's from that book, I can't see them.

A character that's associated with gambling, getting a poor girl pregnant and having no qualms with dropping her, and having an unhappy marriage is Willoughby from Sense and Sensibility. Willoughby loathes Colonel Brandon, whom he calls old and boring and accuses of making excuses to skip out on fun gatherings. So we have a rogue calling an honourable man who is busy with cleaning up Willoughby's mistakes (i.e. helping Eliza after she was impregnated by Willoughby) bad names.

Wickham is a very charming military man who wasted his inheritance on gambling and big expenses and now has to be in the army to have some form of income. He talks very well of himself and very poorly of Mr. Darcy, whom he accuses of cheating him out of his inheritance. So we have a character accusing another character of something they didn't do.

We have an honourable military man in the shape of naval captain Frederick Wentworth, he is handsome, charming, well off and is straightforward about looking for someone to marry. He holds grudges towards those who go against his convinctions. This could be the case if Lennox is an honourable man.

Colbourne can, as far as the Austen spectrum goes, be compared to Mr. "I don't like public gatherings" Darcy who is bad at expressing himself and is accused by Willoughby of "stealing" something. Colbourne can also be compared to Colonel Brandon in that he's an older, quiet man who is at present taking care of a child that's not his own (Augusta, and perhaps, ...) and tries to stay away from the drama. Just like Brandon there was a tragic woman in his past who suffered the consequences of not adhering to society. Brandon was in love with his unfortunate woman, perhaps Colbourne was as well... Perhaps the woman he was speaking of was his wife.

In all cases this much is clear: the first person who accuses the other of being bad, is usually the person who has the most dirty laundry. Lennox can also already be compared with more of Austen's rakes than her heroes. The precedents set by Austen don't look great for Lennox. Everything depends on...

The wife: this will be the big drama point in the backstory of our male heroes. Did Colbourne steal the wife? Such an accusation would drive Charlotte away from Colbourne, but would it be true? And if it's true, are there circumstances in which that would be acceptable?

To answer that question, let's look at the cheaters of Jane Austen:

A lot of cheating in Mansfield Park, all bad. They get their comeuppance and it's not forgiven

Lucy Steele does not cheat on Edward Ferrars when they're married, but they were engaged when she switched brothers and decided to marry Robert Ferrars instead. Breaking an engagement was very scandalous. If you were engaged, you were as good as married, it would warrant someone saying "you stole my wife". It would also cause a woman to fall from grace and not be welcome in polite society. And well, Colbourne is quite a recluse. Could that be because he and his wife had quite a shameful elopement?

Eliza Brandon was unhappily married to Colonel Brandon's brother and started cheating. His brother divorced her and she was left pregnant and penniless, ending up in the poorhouse before being rescued by Brandon. I think the chance is very slim the showrunners would have one of the people pursuing Charlotte be an actual adulterer. Most watchers would find that quite unforgiveable, but what if Colbourne was the Christopher Brandon in this story? What if Colbourne was in love with Lennox's wife before and during when they were wed? What if, once Lennox divorced his wife, Colbourne saved her and her baby from the poorhouse and married her so the baby could have his name? A very sweet thought, but I doubt Lennox would then say Colbourne stole his wife.

As to non-cheating but still quite unfortunate women who were "stolen":

Georgiana Darcy was seduced and was almost married to Wickham so he had access to her wealth. Colbourne is wealthy. Was that money acquired through marrying the woman Lennox wanted? Orrr did Lennox try to marry a wealthy woman for her dowry, but did Colbourne prevent them from eloping?

Eliza Brandon the second was seduced by Willoughby, made pregnant, and left behind, thinking WIlloughby would come back to marry her once he had found some money. Could Lennox have left the woman Colbourne stole in such a state? Did Colbourne, like Brandon, sweep in and rescue her and bring her to his estate? Perhaps the Eliza 1 and Eliza 2 stories were merged for Colbourne: what if Colbourne loved Eliza, but Lennox seduced her, engaged her, but compromised her honour before going off to fight at Waterloo, promising her that once he was a war hero he would be able to marry her? Colbourne, hating what Lennox did to the woman he loved, could quit the army, pick her up, marry her and pass the child off as his own. Leonora is around 7, the Napoleontic wars raged quite heavily around the time of her birth, it could be.

How did these two men actually meet? When did the drama start? All Austen books point towards two options:

The story either starts when Colbourne swoops in and steals Lennox's fiancée or wife, the way it happened with Eliza 1 and Eliza 2

Or the Darcy-Wickham route where they went to school together/grew up together/did something together. This is the most plausible route. Why? Because Little Leonora wears a redcoat uniform. Where did she get that? The answer is so simple: from her father. Lennox and Colbourne were in the army together, before Colbourne left for dramatic reasons that probably tie in with the "stolen wife".

Conclusions:

Most hints point in the direction of Lennox and Colbourne being two friends or acquaintances who fell out so drastically about a woman (broken off engagement and marrying someone else, cheating and being divorced while pregnant, ...) that Colbourne probably left the army for it. The woman ended up living or being with Colbourne, birthed a child and she later wound up dead. Colbourne clearly loved the woman as her portrait still hangs in his home. Colbourne is clearly the richer of the two frenemies, and Lennox doesn't like him and tries to slander his reputation. That calls for Willoughby and Wickham parallels. Colbourne does his best to keep details around his marriage and himself vague for outsiders, it's clear he's protecting a secret with a certain kind of discretion, something we've only see Darcy and Colonel Brandon do. It makes me think that perhaps the marriage was a rushed affair, or perhaps the timeline of the pregnancy and the wedding didn't add up because the woman was already pregnant. Perhaps the woman's mysterious death could be a suicide because she was ostracized by society for breaking the rules. After the drama that happened with the "Stolen Wife" Colbourne tries to lead a quiet life and tries to keep his charges/children from becoming like the "stolen wife"/ tragic tale.

In any case, it gives the idea that when truth comes to light, Lennox will probably not look like the greatest guy. And that does make me feel conflicted, as it means Charlotte didn't get to choose. She just got one asshole, and one decent bloke.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

If Bella was somehow bitten somehow and woke up alone during New Moon, but the Cullens didn't find her (I don't know if this is still 'Edward mercy kills Bella' territory but if it is then maybe her gift knows this and starts blocking Alice) and she became a nomad, would she still do the diet and if so for how long?

This is shockingly in the realm of possibility and not necessarily in the land of Edward mercy killing Bella.

Though there are some dangers Bella would have to avoid somehow for survival.

Bella is Bitten Alone in New Moon

We have one vampire who meets Bella during New Moon and another who with very little difference in the timeline would have run across her: Laurent and Victoria.

In the case of Laurent, he and Bella have a chat, he decides Bella smells delicious and he'll spare her the pain of being slowly murdered by Victoria, and just as he decides to go for it he gets run down and eaten by giant wolves.

Bella survives her vampire encounter.

In the case of Victoria, she never really gets close enough to do damage until the fight between Edward and Victoria and Riley and Seth in Eclipse.

So we have a few ways this could go:

Laurent's a few seconds ahead of Sam and company. He manages to get a good bite in and doesn't crush Bella on impact. He's run off by the wolves and Bella survives.

The problem here is that Bella has now been bitten and there's no coming back for her. It's a tragedy, and the wolves will feel a shared sense of failure and burden that they failed to save her, but she's dead anyway. They have to kill her before she fully turns.

Bella's gift, while powerful, doesn't appear to help in this kind of situation. Though, that said, in her dire need it could suddenly give her the ability to project illusions like we see in Renesmee. Doesn't seem to be how Bella's gift typically rolls, but hey, this is her darkest hour.

Otherwise, Jake could pull his alpha move much earlier in order to save Bella's life. He ignores Sam's order, flees with the turning Bella, and dumps her in the wilderness somewhere with a note from Jake that she must never return to Forks. She wakes up alone, only guessing though not knowing what Jake has done for her, and stares blankly at the wilderness.

If Victoria catches up to Bella, well, it's not looking good. All too likely, Bella dies painfully, and Victoria leaves a video tape of the entire ordeal in the Cullen house for when they eventually return (as they surely will).

Though, that said, the ease with which Victoria accomplishes this and the complete lack of Cullen intervention could catch her off guard. Perhaps... Edward doesn't actually give a rat's ass. That says terrible things about James' needless death, but Victoria's holding this girl hostage. She will die, in the most painful manner imaginable, and the Cullens aren't there.

Victoria might turn Bella out of pity or else turn her as she figures out, in part from Bella, that Bella becoming a vampire is Edward's worst case scenario. However, in that case, it's unlikely Victoria would abandon Bella, so Bella wouldn't be on her own.

Which, I think for this post, makes Jake's alpha sacrifice the most likely path. He dumps Bella's half-vampire body somewhere in nowhere Canada.

Bella After the Bite

Being dumped in the wilderness helps a lot. For one, Bella already has unbelievable control, for another this is Edward's penguin scenario. There is no one else out here for her to eat even if she wanted to.

So, following the diet is easy.

And it's something she'd very much wish to do. Bella sees the world of vampires divided into two types of vampire: the good Cullen vampires who don't eat people and the bad vampires who, well, eat people.

This left such a mark on Bella that she has very little idea of what a vampire even is.

Bella would be horrified at herself if she became a bad vampire. In wanting vampirism she wanted the vampirsim she sees in the Cullens. Bella might be miserable and alone, without a friend in the world, but she would be horrified to choose anything other than the Cullen way of life.

At least, at first.

The Return of the Cullens

There's a few paths for Bella after she's dumped in the middle of nowhere.

Alice sees that Bella's become a vampire, an abandoned newborn, and is wandering aimlessly around the wilderness somewhere. Even though Edward has forbidden contact, this is probably enough to motivate Alice who was genuinely worried.

She likely goes behind Edward's back and tries to find Bella with Jasper and possibly the rest of the Cullens.

Edward, of course, is still in Rio being a miserable saint for leaving precious human Bella.

Eventually, they manage to find her, and there's a lot of miscommunication, very hurt feelings, and heartfelt apologies even from Rosalie because look what happened to this poor girl. Though they each, either reluctantly or more enthusiastically, agreed to leave this was not what they had in mind.

Bella forgives them quite readily, as she did in canon, because she has the self-esteem of a thimble. The Cullens are awed and very grateful, Rosalie would never have forgiven them for this.

It probably takes them both a) a while to decide how best to tell Edward and break the news to him b) a while to get a hold of Edward because he's ignoring all their phone calls.

Eventually they do, it's a shit show, for the purpose of this post we'll say he does not mercy kill Bella. He might actually be feeling too guilty for that. Instead he grovels on the ground constantly, begging Bella's forgiveness, and refuses to enter a relationship with her because he's unworthy.

This undoubtedly upsets Bella, because she's also unworthy and Edward knows it and doesn't love her, but that's not the point of this meta.

In this world, the Cullens keep Cullening after picking Bella up, Bella's adopted into the fold and made Edward's twin sister due to looking the most like him (which, of course, makes them look actually incestuous in high school to add to the Cullen mystique).

With the support of the Cullens, living the Cullen lifestyle, and having the control that Bella has there's no question of ever leaving the diet.

Bella stays on the wagon.

Bella Seeks Out the Denali

Alice is successful and doesn't see Bella's future for whatever reason. Edward will be so proud. Bella is left alone in Canada to eat moose.

Eventually, Bella decides that however great being a vampire is, she's lonely and miserable. She wants companionship.

Well, obviously the Cullens hate her, so even if she could find them they probably never want to see her again. But what about the Denali?

Bella's already in Canada, she could head over to the Denali National Park in Alaska, and surely the least she could do is actually introduce herself.

Of course, the coven sounds blonde, hot, aggressively female, and very intimidating. Tanya's history of wanting to bang Edward has Bella feeling very small and worthless. More, the Cullens may have told the Denali all about how stupid and ugly Bella, Edward's current human girlfriend, is and they've all laughed at her.

However, Bella's so desperate for companionship, for some connection back to her old life, that she goes for it.

She makes it to Alaska, wanders around until she eventually finds the Denali coven, and introduces herself. The Denali are weird assholes, but Bella's so oblivious she actually doesn't notice.

That said, they've had their brush with the law, and Tanya doesn't want a newborn running around by herself. Eleazar also gives a truly pompous, awful, speech about compassion to their fellow man. It's unbearable, Bella finds it charming.

They take Bella in, she can be the dark-haired sister. Her control is so good the three single ladies quickly take her clubbing and encourage her to sleep away her troubles with human men.

Bella quickly finds that, when you're on the vampire end of the equation, the relationship with human thing is kind of gross. These people smell like food, are squishy and overly warm, and have the substance of tofu.

Bella feels even worse about her relationship with Edward.

She sleeps with human men anyway so that the Denali sisters won't judge her/will think she's cool.

They're so proud of her.

Regardless, Bella stays on the diet as the Denali follow the diet. She will likely have a few accidents with her human lovers, and will be inconsolable, but the coven will be there to offer comfort and help her get back on the wagon.

Bella stays on the wagon

Bella's Low Self-Esteem Wins and She Becomes a Hermit

Bella can't return to Forks and she's so ugly, stupid and boring that even though she's a vampire if she met anyone new they'd realize how ugly, stupid, and boring she is.

Better to just forsake society altogether and live with moose.

Bella's able to do this for quite a long time. Years even. And it's... fine. But her life has no purpose nor any direction to it.

She becomes tempted by society. How many years has it been? Has the world changed since she left? Has Forks changed? Is Charlie still alive? Is Renee? What about her classmates?

Bella starts travelling and visiting human cities and, thanks to her control, she does very well.

However, it's very likely that one day she'll slip, she takes her control far too much for granted and all it takes is one mistake.

And that's where Bella starts getting into trouble.

She's horrified at first, of course, and that likely doesn't break her. She gets back on the wagon, but the second time it happens...

There are no consequences to her breaking the diet. She has no companions, no one cares. Why is she living in constant agony, every single day, for people who will one day die anyway? Why is Bella choosing to suffer?

As time goes on, as humans start to mean less and less to her and all the humans that she knew when human herself are dead, Bella starts forgetting the reason that the diet seemed so vital to her existence.

At one point, it stops meaning anything at all, it's just Bella pointlessly choosing to live in agony.

Bella falls off the wagon.

TL;DR I think it'd take a while, at least ten years, but if she becomes a solitary nomad, it would inevitably happen.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

The Hindu version of rapture anxiety is a little different. Many families, like mine, were raised on the Mahabharata & Ramayana as moral guides. The concept of Dharma/duty was introduced to me pretty quickly on. We don't really believe that we go to hell to suffer, it's not that popular. For Hindus, rebirth is a big thing, and to be born human is the biggest curse and gift. Anything that we do that is morally wrong is part of our negative karma. So if a child dies due to an accident, people tend to believe that their soul did something terrible in a past life. My mother always told me that doing anything wrong will have detrimental effects in my next life. Eg: I didn't want to go to the temple on my 12th birthday, so my mother scared me into going by saying that Laxmi will make me poor in my next life.

It's never seen as God's doing. God doesn't do bad things. It's always your fault if something terrible happens, it's simply your karma. To get moksh/nirvana, we have to apparently suffer a million lifetimes, including bugs & trees.

If your family is more religious like mine, this can go into the thought crime category. If you even think negatively about anyone/anything (even a book, bc the goddess of wisdom hates that) you will suffer in future lifetimes. It's really fascinating when you're out of it because I still catch myself being afraid of accidentally stepping on a book or judging something in my head. I know karma isn't a thing and that Vishnu isn't gonna punish me, but it's easy to slip back into it sometimes.

Ugh, that's so messed up.

It doesn't make any sense either. When someone does something bad to someone else, the perpetrator gets negative karma, but did the victim deserve it because of their existing negative karma? What about when bad things happen to good people, or good things happen to bad people?

A child dies and it's, well, they deserved it. It's very much a recipe for loss of human empathy. Not to mention refusal to make anything better. Why look to eradicate SIDS or cancer, or COVID for that matter, when people are just getting what they deserve? And anyway, dying just bumps them along to the next life anyway, no great loss, right? Geez.

On the topic of thoughtcrime, I've heard of similar from Xians. For example, Joe and Katie Bauer from the Born Again Again podcast talked about these thought-terminating habits they taught themselves, e.g. about sex. Any thought, no matter how minor or fleeting, that wasn't glorifying to the Xian god required repentance and

Joe: The example that was given in the book was like, say you’re at school and you’re walking down the hall in between classes and your eyes kind of just naturally go to some girl’s butt that you see walking down the hall ahead of you. And what you need to train yourself to do is immediately bounce your eyes away from that to anything else, ask for forgiveness from God for doing it, ask for him to fill you with his spirt, so that you can resist the temptation better in the future. And then continue on with your day.

Katie: One look? For one look.

Joe: Yeah, that was like, the pattern. So, I got freaking really good at that. I mean like, you walk down the street and there’s things that your eyes could be drawn to as, like, a sexual male, and of course your eyes are just looking round, cause you’re a normal person. And I was constantly in my head, redirecting my eyes, asking for forgiveness for the feelings I had, and moving on with my day, over and over and over again for years.

Yasmine Mohammed also talks about ss-Sirat al-Mustaqim, the narrow, straight path of Islam, a "tightrope" as she describes it, where if you stray even slightly from that narrow path, not just in actions, but in words and in thoughts, you'll burn in hell for eternity. Presumably this is why the devout have the exact same talking points.

https://quranx.com/Search?Q=%22straight+path%22

The straight path is lifted, of course, from the bible.

Matthew 7:13-14

Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat:

Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

Luke 13:24

Strive to enter in at the strait gate: for many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able.

Of course, the secular, parental version, in the west at least, is...

"You'd better watch out, you better not cry, You better not pout, I'm telling you why,

Santa Claus is coming to town.

He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake."

For the fundamentalist theology of the Elect, Wokethink has its own parallel: the modern day phrenology pseudoscience of the debunked "implicit bias" or "unconscious bias" tests, which pretend they can mind-read your real intentions, despite these tests being unreliable and producing wildly inconsistent results. You need not actually think the thought-crime thoughts you're being convicted of; their intended purpose isn't to see if you have these biases, but to prove that you do.

As Archbishop Robin DiAngelo tells us:

“The question is not ‘did racism take place’? but rather ‘how did racism manifest in that situation?’”

”... intentions are irrelevant.”

“... no one is ever done.”

The cooties test always turns up positive, so you'll buy the weekly cooties shot.

There's an interesting observation - and I realize this is deviating off the religious topic - that I heard about recently on a "19 Lessons from 400 Episodes" by Chris Williamson: you are not your thoughts.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ds4TiQse2PQ&t=48m30s

"The voice that speaks in your head is not you. You are the one who hears it speak. Don't identify with what your mind says any more than you identify with what someone on the street says. This is one of the most liberating truths to know." - Corey Allen

So, with this, he's reminding us that you don't know what you're going to think next. You don't know what you're going to think next. If you don't know what you're going to think next, how can you say that the voice in your head is you? It's just another element.

Think about the fact when you've lost your keys, and you say to yourself, "where are my keys?" Who the fuck are you talking to? Genuinely. Who the actual fuck are you talking to? "I've lost my keys, where are my keys?" There's only you inside your of your head, is there not?

Well, no. If there's someone speaking, then there has to be a listener. And the person that's speaking is just this weird amalgamation of sleep deprivation and hunger and excess caffeine and limbic hijack and thought loops and what you've just seen on Twitter and that repetitive song that's on the radio that you can't get rid of.

You are not your thoughts. So when you hear something, you hear a particular piece of monologue that's in your head, you wouldn't identify if someone on the street just accused you of being that thing.

So genuinely, ask yourself why do you choose to identify with what your head says? You have faith in your own word? Maybe? Okay. Well, how many times have you thought a thing that didn't turn out to be true?

You are your most untrustworthy friend.

The voice that's inside of your head is batting... it's got the worst average in history. Imagine all of the things that you thought that didn't turn out to be true. All of the concerns that you had, all the worries, all of the fears and the overthinking and the absolute certainties about whatever catastrophe was going to occur, or absolute certainties about whatever success was going to occur and it didn't.

If you were friends with that person, you would think that they were the biggest gobshite on the planet. You'd be like "dude, all that you do is spew misinformation at me on a daily basis. What are you talking about?" But because the voice comes from inside of us, we trust it.

You are not your thoughts.

A god or gods that "designed" and/or created humans should know this. Indeed, in any religion where we're "made in god's image," the gods will have the same kind of internal monologue themselves.

It very much seems like religions universally and consistently exploit this phenomenon specifically to foster undeserved thoughtcrime guilt and therefore extract control. /shock /surprise

Imagine if we taught kids about how they think, how the mind works, along with healthy thinking tools such as the Cognitive Behavioral toolkit, how quickly the demons and the gods and the cults and the ideologies and the pseudoscience would disappear.