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akitokihojo · 3 years

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Monster - Chapter 1

And, here we go. Chapter 1 of this monstrosity (no pun intended) is now up and running below, on AO3, and on FF.net.

I'm going to be completely and 100% honest with everyone before you start reading, so please heed this warning! This first chapter is rough in the sense where it contains a bit of brutality and the death of a child. So far, this is the only gruesome chapter, and while the gore is NOT detailed, I still want my more sensitive readers to be wary.

This is the most action-packed fic I've ever written, and also the most expansive world I've ever built (in my humble opinion). With that being said, while the setting is a bit more on the historical side, there are plenty of modern references. For instance, not in this chapter but in future ones, a bathroom is just a bathroom. I don't mention plumbing or the lack thereof. My attention and energy was on more important things and I just didn't care about those details, lol. Additionally, a lot of slang, jokes, and references are fairly modern. Don't @ me (but also do). All-in-all, what I'm trying to say is I built my own damn world where there is no historical accuracy, so don't go looking for it, lol.

Unless otherwise stated, I plan to post each new chapter every Friday. So, yeah... I think that's all I've got to say.... have fun! Enjoy! Thank you for reading! Ily! Bon Voyage! Don't hate me!

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The responsibility is ours.

Kagome gasped as her feet slid in the mud, the small decline of the path she and her younger brother hurried down gradually becoming more slippery as the rain began to pour harder. Through the noise of the droplets and the sloshing of their boots, she heard a slight commotion; horses’ huffs, heavy feet, and boisterous men barking orders. Initially, she’d figured it was the village men ushering their families indoors, their livestock into barns, their carts and tools under shelter, and their firewood into a dry place as the storm reared its ugly head. The sunset sky was shadowed in gloom, thunder making it’s entrance in the far distance as it was bound to be banging on their doors and windows in no time. But, at the tug of her arm by her sibling, her attention was shifted to the actual cause of it all: Naraku’s henchmen.

“Again?” She shuddered resentfully.

“Third time this month.” Sota confirmed, clenching his jaw as he slightly tugged his sister behind his smaller frame. He was perfectly aware that he was only twelve, well in the know that he stood no taller than her shoulders, but he’d be damned if he did nothing because of it.

This time, there wasn’t a hoard of them. No, there were merely four, all of which were already off of their horses on the main path through their little village, making demands and threatening anyone who got in the way of their objective.

Throughout the last four and a half years since Naraku rose as a fearsome demon that easily brought down peaceful powers and attempted to control the world Kagome knew, she’d become more than familiar with this procedure. It wasn’t until just recently that they’d started coming more often than a monthly visit, though. And, it was no secret what, or who, they were after.

Her.

Anyone of her kind, really.

She was different. She was hunted. Those like her were supposedly powerful, but matters being what they were had caused anyone who shared a similar fate to subdue their abilities to the point of total lack of recognition of their true potential. At least, that’s how it was in most cases. Because, if they were found out, they were killed on sight. The reason for it was entirely unknown. Naraku didn’t just target them, though; he made everyone’s lives hell, especially if they stood out in a supernatural manner. So, while she figured there had to be a yet-to-be-identified reason, she felt it was safe to assume it was also just because he could. Maybe he didn’t like the threat of other, similar forces that could collide against him. Maybe he was egotistical enough to think he was the only deserving being. Whatever the case, he was cruel.

Kagome’s kind had several names through the decades - so many, she hardly knew the correct term for herself. At one point, ages ago, they were called banshees. The title didn’t make sense whatsoever, given their powers and what a banshee actually was, and the story was so old that she didn’t know where the justification even stemmed from, but it caused them to be feared, and for that, she honestly wouldn’t have totally minded if the name stuck around. They were called priestesses, but then it sounded too peaceful, too practiced, and it painted them as “good.” They were called witches, mages, sorceresses, but they committed no typical magic of that sort. Kagome didn’t know a single spell, nor did she have nearly enough time in the day to pack an array of herbs, spices, and what have you into jars that were sealed with candle wax - though she had caught wind that there were some older women of her kind with the ability to curse. Now, they were called conjurers. Their abilities were that of the spirit, aiding with protection, purifying dark forces - passively or forcefully, bringing forth light, and more she was sure.

In Kagome’s unpopular opinion, given what they could do and what they supposedly stood for, priestess was more suitable a term, but she also understood that there was nothing holy about the world they lived in.

There was no birthmark of the conjurer. There was no dead giveaway of their kind. The powers were gifted at random, as far as she knew, not passed down through lineage. The only thing Naraku and his followers seemingly had to go off of was that conjurers were born female.

Sometimes, they’d conduct their mission by way of senseless inspections. They’d rip apart the insides of homes looking for all the wrong things in all the wrong places. Truthfully, with how absurd they carried themselves, it was obvious they didn’t know the telltale signs they were looking for and were wasting their time. Which was what made it clear that for them to be so clueless, even Naraku didn’t know all there was that made up a conjurer. They were ignorant and they were blind, but they were also relentless and ruthless.

The days where they singled women out were the worst. Kagome, so far, was spared that cruelty, but that didn’t make it any better. It was usually the more mature, the elderly, that received the short end of the stick.

More often than anything, they’d line up every woman and girl in town and go down the rows one-by-one, stimulating their nerves in one way or another to see if they could get a “conjurer’s reaction.” Kagome could only guess that meant a sudden surge of purification power. It was the main trait conjurers were known for; but they were going about it wrong. Screaming in their faces, threatening everyone, or jostling them around a bit wasn’t going to get the demons purified, no matter how much she wanted to toss something their way. Of course, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell them that.

Every so often, they’d come in a pack and create havoc with violence. They said it was their way to pressure people into giving up any information they might have, but in all honesty, the smiles some of the brute demons wore said they were bored and simply wanted a little entertainment. Apparently, screaming and pleading were equivalent to a musical number in their bloodlust eyes.

Their own little group of demon slayers that resided in the village helped prevent this from happening when they could, which was why the henchmen came in numbers. The demon slayers fought for a sense of control, not to kill. They would only allow so much, but belligerent violence was not an option. It was obvious that, as of late, their village was a targeted spot, one that got a little more attention than neighboring towns, and for what reason, no one knew. They didn’t have the fighting power to win that sort of fight, though, and the leader of the group of slayers was sensible enough to understand this and explain it to the masses that questioned them. They were made up of a handful of men with rigorous combat skills they didn’t learn from home, refused to take recruits below a certain age, and could only train so many at a time. As much as they’d all love to retaliate and end things for good, intuition was telling them not to in that manner. Even Kagome felt that. Deep in her gut, she knew that even if they could, killing them would only put the people of the village in a worse position. This wasn’t something that would stop by taking out the underlings. Not at all. Far from it. Anyone who was paying attention could see that they’d need to exterminate the head honcho in order for any positive difference to be made.

Unfortunately for them this time around, their little pack of demon slayers had left on a request to take care of a troublesome demon a little ways off just that morning. And, listening to the henchmen now, seeing them in their dark leather, their cloaks, feeling their dangerous energies wafting through the streets of their little town, Kagome could tell that they were going to do whatever they wanted tonight, despite the fact that it was just the four of them. It wouldn’t be horrible, and would most likely be a lineup, but they were definitely going to take their sweet time and see who they could break.

“There’s still time. They haven’t noticed you. We can hide you.” Her younger brother said, his tone more on the convicted side as opposed to suggestive. He should have known she wouldn’t have gone for it, though. So long as every other woman and girl had to stand in front of their villainous promises and vile breath, so long as her mother had to keep a straight face, Kagome would always stand there with them. She’d made a promise to her brother, her older cousin, and especially her mom that she’d never willingly out herself for no reason, but she just couldn’t bring herself to hide when everyone else had to stand through their harassment. She swore that if the demons were ever convinced an innocent was a conjurer, that was the reason to give herself over.

Never would Kagome allow another to mistakenly go down in her stead.

No one but her family knew of her powers, and until necessary, it would stay that way. According to her cousin, the more people that knew, the increased danger she was in.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She shook her head, minding her steps through the small slope of mud as she gently pulled her arm out of Sota’s grip.

“Miroku would say the same thing if he were with us.” He argued.

“Yeah, well he’s not. In fact, he’s probably getting himself into trouble by picking a fight with one of those goons.”

“Kagome, I have a bad feeling about this. Come on, just listen for once.”

“Okay,” She stopped, turning around to challenge his look. “Say something bad is going to happen. Knowing these assholes, you really think my absence will stop that?”

“No, but -“

“Right. They’re going to do something no matter what, correct?”

“Kagome -“

“And then what?”

“And then they’re wrong, but they didn’t get you.”

“How is that fair to the person they might hurt?”

“That person isn’t my sister.”

“What if it’s mom?”

Sota’s eyes slighted to the side, a heated huff leaving his lips just before he begrudgingly sealed them. His jaw clenched minutely as his head gave a little shake, brown eyes once more meeting his sibling’s. “Miroku and I will protect her.”

Kagome gave a fed up smile, sighing, rolling her eyes, and turning back on her heel to continue toward the main path. Families came out of their homes dressed in cloaks as they prepared to, once more, be harassed until Naraku’s men exhausted themselves, husbands and male relatives holding resentful expressions as they guarded their female family members until they couldn’t any longer.

“Kagome!”

“Sota, quit it. The louder you are, the more suspicious we become.” She quietly warned. Kagome heard her brother’s aggravated grumble before he jogged forward to catch up, his demeanor holding much like every other male in the village.

No one’s feet rushed toward the excitement. The tension of the town was up so dramatically that Kagome could physically feel the crushing weight of it all, the anxiety as they made their way closer to their disgusting visitors was causing her stomach to bubble and waver, and her throat constricted nervously as she and Sota finally met up with the crowd, her brown eyes scouring over shoulders to scout out her family. Sota’s hand encircled her wrist firmly, tugging her to the right as he found them and guided her over. Miroku stood tall in front of their mother, brows noticeably creased and indigo eyes straight ahead until he’d caught their movement in his peripheral vision. Immediately, his posture squared further, as if enlarging his shoulders so that he’d be able to successfully hide both Kagome and his aunt behind his frame. Her mother held out her hand for Kagome to take as soon as they were close enough, a peaceful smile unsurprisingly gracing her lips while she pulled her in, shoulder-to-shoulder. Somehow, no matter the circumstances, she always did her best to calm Kagome’s nerves with the simplest of sweet gestures. Sota took his spot before them, influenced by Miroku’s stature as he replicated it.

Allowing herself a brief moment, Kagome bowed her head further, bracing it on her older cousin’s shoulder. She shut her eyes, inhaling slowly, deeply, attempting to release her trepidation with a long and heated exhale before composing herself and straightening out.

“- But this is too much! Why the hell are you back again!? There’s no conjurer in our village! Don’t you fucking get that by now!?” A man shouted, livid, and it was evident she and her brother had missed the beginning of the argument playing out in the center of the uneven circle created by people.

“Get the fuck out of the way!” One of Naraku’s men yelled back.

“Not until you tell us why you’re back for the third time!”

“Would you rather we made ourselves at home!?” Silence from the opposing man answered his question clearly. “That’s what I fucking thought.” He spewed, and Kagome could hear the spittle fly out as he cursed. His attention returned to the general public, his tone shifting from vicious to gruff as he made his command. “Only girls ranging from ages five to twenty, line up! Now!”

Increased unsettlement coursed through the crowd, mothers and fathers clinging to their young daughters, little girls’ fearful whimpers polluting the air as they hid their faces in their parents’ legs, and even Kagome’s own mother’s hand tightened her grip as a breathy gasp left her lips - understanding that this meant her eighteen year old daughter was being sent into the fire without her. They were narrowing down, slimming the numbers, and the small smiles on the villains’ faces made Kagome assume that something last time may have tipped them off to lessen the demographic.

“What do I do?” Kagome whispered to her cousin, failing in her attempt to hide the sudden panic striking her.

“Nothing. You do nothing.” He urged quietly, shifting his head to look into his younger relative’s eyes. “Listen, Kagome, treat this like routine -“

“This isn’t routine.”

“Treat it like it is. Keep your head down.”

“If they -“

“No.”

“But, they’ll -“

“Kagome, no. You made us a promise.” Miroku reminded firmly, knowing exactly where her mind was traveling. In the case of an incident, which there seemed to be a higher chance of this time around, she may need to intercede.

She took a deep breath, straightening her face as much as possible so Naraku’s men wouldn’t grow suspicious as they impatiently yelled again for the girls to gather before them. “If this means they suspect something -“

“It may just be a tactic they’re using. For all we know, they have nothing and could leave here with the same. So, treat it like routine. Okay?”

“Promise.” Sota insisted during Kagome’s silence. The mens’ barking got louder, more demanding, as did the crying of little girls being pulled away from their parents. With the building weight in her chest, like a liquid filling her lungs quickly, the density making it almost impossible to take full breaths of air or move without falling forward, all she could muster was a meager nod before forcing herself to walk out. Miroku and Sota both leaned to opposite sides to part their shoulders for her to move through, her mother’s soft hand still lightly holding her own until she was far enough for their fingers to slide away from each other’s.

At most, there were about twenty girls in that age range to offer, and Kagome’s brown eyes drifted over the uneven row of heads as she approached, finding her friend in the mix trying to calm the little girl beside her. Sango glanced her way, as if feeling Kagome’s eyes on her, giving an apprehensive grin and waving her over.

“Ready?” Kagome asked, though it was completely rhetorical. It was just habit for these things. It was unavoidable, unexpected, and overall, impossible to be ready for. But, when they bounced the question off of each other, it was like one final reminder to stone.

Sango knew. Sango and her family were the one exception to the familial rule. She was Kagome’s closest friend and Miroku’s significant other. She was more than trustworthy. And, more importantly, had known since Kagome accidentally found out, herself, as a kid. Because, that’s how it was being a conjurer. You weren’t born knowing. You didn’t have an outward appearance that proclaimed your status much like demons did. It was always an accidental happenstance; in her case where she put a little too much oomph into her bow and arrow lessons and purified the evil - and life - right out of a passing crow demon after missing her target.

She remembered the feeling of total surprise, then tremendous fear because she thought she’d be in a lot of trouble. Kagome had literally thrown her bow to the ground like the thing, itself, was the culprit of the power. Miroku was gawking, Sango was covering her mouth with both hands, and their dad’s shared an identical, tight-lipped expression. Her papa was motionless for an overwhelmingly-tense sixty seconds before shifting his wide, curious eyes to her.

“Did you know you could do that?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, daddy.” Kagome innocently answered, but she could feel the red, hot heat in her face from her lie. She was awful at those when it came to the people she was close to. Still was to this day. Give her a stranger and she could keep it straight, but in the face of friends and family, she cracked almost too easily. It was a guilt thing.

But then he’d laughed, ruffling his little girl’s hair before reassuring her that it was okay. He said they’d just have to go about her training a little differently from that point on to make sure accidents like that didn’t keep happening, and it was only because of him, his adventurism, his accessibility to knowledge from his travels, that she even discovered what she was in the first place.

Back then, though it wasn’t quite as dangerous to exist as a conjurer, her papa had still suggested they keep her abilities under wraps. She distinctly remembered binding that with a pinky promise after Sango’s dad had a private discussion with her own. Maybe it was because Sango’s dad was even more educated with the world, and knew the potential hardships that could come her way, being the leader of the demon slayers that he was - and still is. Honestly, the reasoning was hard to determine now because she didn’t put much thought into it when she could and should have. Being the young, spunky, loyal girl that she was, if her dad wanted her to keep a secret and held out his pinky to her, that was all the reason Kagome needed, and nothing pleased her more than making her papa proud. And, when he and her uncle were fatally wounded in a demon attack on their village, even though Naraku’s name had never once yet been muttered near her ears, he still made her do one final pinky promise to him saying, “Protect yourself for me, my little bird. Keep it in its cage. I love you so much, Kagome.”

She wasn’t even a teenager when that had happened. There was a part of her that wondered here and there if he was secretly clairvoyant, or if he merely studied the patterns throughout history of people of her kind and wanted nothing more than to keep her safe and make her life as easy as possible, given the reputation they had, their ever-changing titles, and the ignorance others had of their nature. If only he knew where she was now. Would he still ask his little bird to stay in the cage while the door was wide open?

“Ready. You?” Sango returned, standing straight and allowing the little girl to cling to her leg.

“Ready.” Kagome breathed.

Those not lined up hesitantly backed away, creating space and growing agonizingly silent as they seemingly held their breaths for those that were chosen. Kagome hated when they did that. It was like she could physically feel the onlookers’ anxiety, and it was the last thing she needed on top of that of those actually subjected and her own.

The four men walked back and forth, up and down the two rows of girls, criminal eyes taunting them with silent threats and menacing grins. It was creepy, but no longer was it fear-inducing. Kagome had a bad habit of not shying away anymore. Sure, she was nervous beyond belief, but the last thing she was afraid of were their snarls, scarred and dirty flesh, and crooked teeth. That, of all things, was the least intimidating factor for those who were calloused to the routine.

But, when an abrupt instruction was given by the leader, her already-loose expectations of “routine” fell apart completely.

“Hold out your left hands, palms up!”

Confusion soared through every individual, and Kagome met Sango’s brief side glance, minutely comforted by the fact that she wasn’t the only one without a clue as to what was going on. Questions weren’t allowed though, and even the little ones were well aware of that, so as the small group of men demanded everyone shut up and do it, all outward bafflement dissipated.

Slowly, Kagome raised her left palm, her arm outstretched, swallowing as she willed the slight trembling to cease. Brown eyes searched quickly as she waited for whatever to begin, weeding through the crowd and finding Miroku already pinning her with a stare. It was wary, but hard, his jaw visibly tense.

The sound of an unsheathing blade was unmistakable, and immediately Kagome’s attention bounced to her left where the leader danced the grip of a knife in his fingers, his lips curved downward into a permanent frown. The first girl in line couldn’t have been any older than fifteen, noticeably shaking as her anxious stare bounced from the man to the blade.

A man in the crowd began shouting, stirring, pushing forward through the heap of villagers to reach the forefront, “Hey! No! What are you going to do!? That’s my daughter; what are you going to do!? Don’t you dare touch -“ Abruptly silenced by a defensive elbow to the diaphragm, gifted by an all-too-fast demon.

The young teenager shuddered, not sure what to worry about first as the leader gave her no moment to react, grabbed her hand, extended it further, and gave a small slice with the tip of his knife to the center of her palm. She winced, a whimper easily escaping her mouth from the sharp pain, tears leaking from her eyes quicker than the blood that seeped from her laceration. And then he grabbed her hand in his, sealing their palms together as he stared her in the eyes for a moment. She was utterly terrified, wanting to pull away while knowing she shouldn’t, but as nothing else happened, the man released her, murmuring to stay in line as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his blade, his hand, then moved onto the next.

Kagome’s attention snapped back to Miroku as it dawned on her, his eyes holding the same idea as he gave a steady but stern shake of his head in retort. They were looking for the untrained conjurers. The conjurers who weren’t skilled in holding back. Everyone was already scared, and the wound inflicted a heightened sense of fight-or-flight. Then their hands gripping the victims’ - their demon hands against the victims’… they were working to spark a purification reaction, and they were going about it right this time. It wouldn’t be strong enough to kill them, nothing that small or unsuspecting would be, but it would hurt - much like the notorious fairytale of a vampire taking a quick step into the sunlight before swiftly turning around and heading back inside. And, that was all they needed.

Unbeknownst to everyone but Sango and Miroku, Kagome wasn’t completely helpless. Not only was she well-versed in subduing her powers, but alternatively speaking, she could knock a guy completely on his ass. She’d practiced. She’d practiced for hours at a time for several years now to see what she could do, what sort of strength she possessed, all on the far outskirts of the village, hiding near caves with only her friend and cousin who'd agreed, despite promises and secrets, that they all should try to be prepared for anything. By no means was she an expert, but she could handle her own for the most part and a situation like this was something she’d been well-conditioned for, for quite some time now.

Especially since she’d first received that message in a dream.

The responsibility is ours.

Whatever it meant, no matter how bleak it felt, it was a no-brainer that Kagome couldn’t go on without some sort of knowledge of her own potential.

She took a shallow breath, diverting her gaze to the goon before her as he happily took out his own blade, the other two following suit as they set out to narrow the time this was going to take. He stepped forward, grasping the wrist of the frightened and resistant girl beside Sango, who Sango had to hush into calming, telling her it would be done quickly. When nothing gratifying came from the occurrence, the man moved on to Sango, pinning her with a glare that she challenged right back. She hardly flinched at the slice of her skin, brown eyes never leaving the demonic ones of her assailant. When she shrugged a brow as he clasped their hands together, Kagome could practically see the heat rising in the man’s body language, quickly fuming from how audacious Sango was acting - which Kagome couldn’t help but respect, not knowing if the chuckle she forcefully swallowed was one of matched humor or nervousness.

The man threw Sango’s hand to the side, merely wiping her blood from his palm and blade on his pants before vehemently grabbing Kagome’s and extending her arm completely, bringing an inadvertent gasp to escape her throat. As the tip of his knife pierced her palm, dragging slowly to create a burning gash - one larger than Sango’s, so she suspected her nonchalant pass of amusement wasn’t as admissible as she’d thought - Kagome couldn’t stop the hiss that slid off her tongue, her brows creasing and jaw dropping as crimson dripped from her hand to the mud. With a clap, he pressed his palm to hers, fingers squeezing her small hand with unmitigated pressure. She felt a flurry in her abdomen, her diaphragm, her chest, warmth that drove her power, and that was her cue to hold her breath, to pretend everything was fine, to tell herself she was safe and trick her mind when she really wasn’t. She pretended she was holding Sota’s hand - the first person that came to mind, and the least intimidating one that she knew. Sota as an adult whose hand was finally bigger than hers. She couldn’t help but feel this was a huge insult to her younger brother, so she subconsciously apologized as she continued her visualization. It was like a lump built in her throat, the kind that grew too difficult to swallow, but she also felt completely in control, returning the man’s stare before he dropped her hand and moved onto the girl beside her.

“Shh,” Sango gently hushed the small child. “Everything’s fine now, but you have to stay quiet. Give me your hand.”

Kagome slowly let out her captive breath, the air she sucked in to replace it cold and not the least bit comforting despite the danger she’d evaded. She kept her palm face up but closer to her heart, cradling it for a moment as she tried to ignore the searing pain, diverting her attention to Sango and the kid. Her best friend was already looking up at her, using the long sleeve of her shirt to clean the blood from the girl’s hand and apply pressure so it’d stop bleeding, never minding the bleeding of her own palm. Thankfully, it only looked to be a little knick, and Kagome wondered if the creep of a demon that had handled them secretly had a soft spot for children.

“You okay?” Sango silently mouthed to Kagome. She nodded in reply, picking up the bottom hem of her own shirt and pressing it to her wound.

A sudden, deep, and broken yell punched through the air as one of the demons stumbled away, his hand yanked back, fingers furled in offense, and face twisted in rage. A little girl shrieked as he lunged forward, grabbing her by the collar of her cloak and pulling her out of the line, her feet stumbling to keep up as she cried apology after apology.

No. Conjurers weren’t common; now more than ever. How could there be two in one village? Especially one as small as theirs? How could there be more than one not even miles apart? How did Kagome not know? Didn’t conjurers have the ability to sense one another? She’d only assumed that was the case because of the seemingly-prophetic dreams she’d been having; because of the woman that had been coming to her in those very dreams. It was a weak hypothesis to go off of, but it was the only answer that made sense to Kagome. But, now there was a child being dragged into the center of where the town congregated, begging and pleading for her life while her mother screamed from the sidelines where she was being held at bay, and Kagome was none the wiser to her existence.

She wanted to yell that they were wrong, but how could they have been? It was a physical test. The accidental reaction of her powers was a dead giveaway. They couldn’t even lie their way out of this, or pretend the allegation was false. She was a conjurer. And they were about to kill her.

Kagome’s heart twisted and bunched painfully, that hard lump once more building in her throat, a murmured, “no,” barely leaving her parted lips, and her brown eyes caught a pleased grin on the approaching leader’s face that, just moments ago, seemed stuck in a scowl. He twirled his dagger in his fingers before kneeling down in front of the weeping girl.

“Found you.” He snickered, plunging the blade into her abdomen.

“No!” Kagome gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth in shock. The village was alight with terror, screams, cries, the rumble of defeat, the wailing of a grieving mother striking over all other sounds. Still, she was withheld from her little girl, reaching for her over the shoulder of the unforgiving demon who kept her away.

The knife was yanked free of the girl’s gut and she fell to her knees, her hands braced before her stomach as crimson crawled out, staining the front of her rain-soaked dress. Small hands weakly pressed into her abdomen, the wide look of horror, of pain, of fear etched into every inch of her expression as she gasped tremblingly. All too easily, the leader stood and walked away, not an ounce of remorse displayed.

“She was… she was just a kid.” A sympathetic village man stated morosely. “She wasn’t even ten yet.”

“She wasn’t dangerous!” Another testified.

“Would you like to be next?” A demon threatened, thinking his raised voice would retain order.

Kagome could hardly breathe, tears burning and brimming at her lower lid. All she could think to do was try to stop the bleeding, try to save the child, her feet moving on their own accord as she rushed out of line. Beyond the anger building in the crowd, the yelling growing louder, and the intense disturbance increasing rapidly and overwhelmingly, Kagome heard her name called multiple times. But, she couldn’t bring herself to listen, to stop, as she skidded to her knees in the mud, her arms catching the little girl as she fell forward. Her mother was finally freed, racing over and falling to the ground at her child’s side, helping through her weeping to lay her on her back.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here.” She soothed as best as she could, hovering over her daughter's face so the rain wouldn’t hit it, shaking fingers pushing sopping hair from her cheeks.

Kagome grabbed the length from the girl’s cloak that stuck out on her side, bunching it and pressing firmly into the wound. The choked gasp that came from the kid was agonizing, and Kagome apologized profusely, blinking away her own tears as she whipped her head around to take in the rousing group of people, fury evident in their tones, in their bodies, as they returned threats with the offending demons.

“Where’s the doctor!?” Kagome asked as loudly as she could, her soaked, dark hair whipping her in the face as she spun her head around to try and find their town's self-proclaimed physician. “Help! We need help!”

“He isn’t here; he left for herbs yesterday.” Sango informed as she dropped down beside Kagome.

“And he still isn’t back!?”

“The storm must have delayed him.” Sango shook her head in response, her brows creased together as she glanced over her shoulder to quickly mind the budding commotion before turning her worried expression back toward the crying child. “What can I do? How can I help?”

“I don’t - I don’t know.” Kagome stammered, her breathing growing heavier as she panicked, noticing the blood was barely halting, the stain in the girl’s dress expanding and absorbing through the cloth she pressed against the wound.

“Apply pressure!” Miroku instructed when he slid to his knees in the mud on their opposite side, careful of the girl’s mother.

“I am!” Kagome cried.

“Stay with me, baby! Stay with me! I’m right here, look at me!” The woman coo’d, sniffling and gasping with her tremors while the comforting smile never left her lips.

“Hey! Leave her! Let her die, or we’ll kill you too!” One of the vile men demanded, though his shouts went ignored, easily drowned out by the encroaching, enraged men who finally appeared fueled enough to physically challenge them. Kagome could only hope they’d hold the demons back so they’d have the chance to save her.

“Here, let me see!” Miroku pushed Kagome’s shaking hands away, pulling aside the cloth of the cloak to take a peek at the wound in her stomach. Kagome had to look away then, the sight of the thick blood seeping through too much to handle. Instead, she focused her attention on the little girl, crawling up to hold her cold, bleeding hand.

Scared, pained, blue eyes focused on Kagome as she took shuddering breaths, her chest convulsing slightly as her small voice broke with her cries. Little fingers softly gripped her hand in return, and the tiniest of smiles curved her lips upward, light beginning to dim from her irises.

“Miroku!” Kagome urged. She glanced back at him and noticed the hopeless expression on his face. One that claimed there was nothing anyone could do. Her heart dropped, a nauseating weight filling her stomach. Quickly, she turned back to the little girl, leaning an inch closer. “Kikyo and the other conjurers, they’re gonna win, okay? We’re gonna win. I promise.”

“Who’s…”

“You! What did you just say!?” Heavy steps sloshed in the mud toward them, his voice low, growling, dangerous.

Kagome had spoken up to be sure the girl had heard her over the yelling, but she hadn’t realized that it could have been heard by anyone else. She didn’t think about the ramifications. She didn’t think. She’d just wanted to fill the child with some form of final hope. What was wrong with that? Was it the fact that she’d said Naraku would fall?

She’d hardly had enough time to turn and react before she was grabbed by the hair and lifted to her feet, yelping as she was dragged back and away.

“You mentioned Kikyo!” He exclaimed, giving a forceful yank as Kagome loudly gasped from her constant stumbling, the pain on her scalp, the fear racing through her. In the thick of it, she’d forgotten Kikyo wasn’t a person who was widely known. She’d forgotten Kikyo was a secret beacon of hope to the surviving conjurers, who appeared in dreams and spoke in riddles.

“No!” Was all she could manage to reply, screamed brokenly, heard clearly throughout the number of villagers around as the action died down and all attention was on them.

“How do you know her!?”

She yelped again, forcefully pulled backward and released to only trip and fall over some tools.

“Tell me, wench!” He demanded, picking Kagome up by her throat and slamming her back against the wall of a home.

“I don’t!” She adamantly swore, still able to speak. His grip was there, but not choking.

“Liar!” He said, slapping her hard across the face. “How do you know Kikyo!?”

“I heard of her in passing!” Kagome cried, wincing from the sting before she was forced to look at him again.

“I find that hard to believe.” He growled, inching closer to her face. His hold on her throat tightened, cutting off air, thick fingers pinching painfully into the sides of her neck. “Where is she?”

“I - I don’t know.” She sputtered, wheezed, her tears hot as they glided down her face. The rain was nothing but a drizzle now, though the distant sound of thunder roared angrily. She was both cold and hot, her lungs begging for air as his hand pushed further against her windpipe.

“Stop it! Let her go!” Miroku barked, and his presence was just enough to distract Naraku’s henchman and cause him to release some tension from her throat. Kagome greedily sucked in as much air as she could, though he still constricted his fingers against her. It was like breathing through a straw.

Her cousin stood there, dark hair sticking to his temples, bloodied hands braced before him as if to reason. “She doesn’t know anything; she just told you!”

“Oh, another tough guy?” A demon behind him chuckled. “A little scrawny for that, don’t you think?”

“You have me wrong, I don’t want to fight. Release my cousin, and we’ll back away peacefully. She meant no harm.”

“The harm was done when she stepped out of place to save the girl!”

“She was a child!”

“She’s a conjurer! She has no place in this world!”

“She did! She did have a place in this world, and we all know it!”

“You best shut the fuck up, boy.” The leader said from the sidelines. “Word may carry that you’re on their side. Now, you wouldn’t want that. Would you?”

“Tell him to let go of her.” Miroku sternly ordered.

“Back off.”

“Let her go!”

“Suit yourself. Have some fun.” Their leader flicked a finger at the two other demons, allowing them to do as they pleased.

Miroku hissed a low, “Fuck,” before dodging a hit from one of the two demons enclosing in on him. He was able to throw one of his own, nailing an ugly bastard in the face before he was grabbed from behind, bulky arms wrapping under and over his shoulders to hold him in place. The other demon was eager while he arrogantly approached in front of him, smiling as he punched Miroku in the stomach.

“Stop! Miroku!” Kagome squirmed against her own offender’s grasp, her instincts beginning to kick in as she felt a wild sensation build in her veins. Something righteous whispered the power she held in her ear, told her to use her abilities to save her cousin, further fueling the heat that made her forget about the nip in the air.

“Kagome, don’t!” Miroku coughed, pinning her with his indigo gaze before his eyes pinched shut from a swift hit to his diaphragm, blood dribbling over his bottom lip and down his chin.

Control sucked Kagome back to the present, the earnest crackle of Miroku’s voice ringing in her ears and overpowering the one that told her to fight. The grip against her throat tightened again, closing off her air passage as red eyes turned back to her, the lines of his frown deep.

“Don’t, what?”

Kagome wasn’t sure if he actually expected an answer or not, but he’d made it physically impossible. She clawed her nails along the thick skin of his large hand, trying to pry him away so she could breathe. It was dire that she didn’t use her powers; she understood this. But, as the adrenaline raced violently through her body, it was growing increasingly harder to keep it subdued. She’d be killed in a heartbeat; she’d already witnessed their unforgiving lack of hesitation. Her mother and younger brother would have to watch. Her cousin, too. She’d promised everyone she would protect herself, and she'd promised herself that she would protect them. Above all that, a different, deeper, more rational voice spoke to her, drowning out the one that told her to take action just a moment ago, telling her that her fight was meant for somewhere else. Something bigger. She could practically feel the breath hitting her ear, urging her of the importance. It told her to swallow it, hold it at bay, keep it buried no matter how badly it burned for release at the underside of her flesh. Keep it in its cage.

Finally, the demon released his tight hold on her neck, opting to firmly grip the front of her shirt. His upper lip twitched in disdain while Kagome sputtered, and coughed, and gasped for air to fill her lungs.

“Don’t, what?” Naraku’s henchman repeated, this time a little lighter, and it was impossible to miss that he was visibly analyzing for any sort of body language that could tip him off.

“Fight.” Kagome attempted to say, though her voice came out incredibly raspy and broken.

“Like I’d be worried about what a girl as small as you could possibly do to me. Unless,” He cocked a brow. “I’d have a reason to worry. Unless, you’re a conjurer.”

She shook her head, scared to look away from him, hyperaware of any movement she made in that moment. She was absolutely terrified of letting him know she was lying, but what if her stiffness was what told him the truth? What if the vehemence behind her objection was exactly what he needed to convict her? Where was the happy medium? Was there one? Kagome’s bottom lip quivered, resisting the impulse to glance Miroku’s way when he continuously coughed, the sound slightly gurgled, scared the shift in her eyes would be mistaken for something else.

“How else would you know who Kikyo is?”

“I - I h-heard of her in p-passing.” Kagome said, still unable to use her voice, and she wondered if the strangulation was enough to damage her vocal cords or if her anxiety was the cause of it. “I-In a nearby town. By - by the r-river.”

The demon yanked her forward and slammed her back against the wall, the back of her head smacking the wood painfully. “Are you a fucking conjurer, wench!?”

“No!” Kagome wheezed, releasing her own hold on his fist to emphatically present the blunt cut on her palm to him before she repeatedly smacked it against his forearm, smearing hers and the little girl’s blood, showing him the exact reaction - or lack thereof - they were looking for in coming today in the first place.

“Let - let her go.” Miroku was on his knees, breathing impaired, holding his side with one hand while the other braced his weight in the mud. “She’s not a conjurer. She’s not. She can hardly even hunt. I have to take her everywhere. There’s no way anyone that knows her would believe she’s one of them.”

“Being a conjurer doesn’t have anything to do with hunting, boy!” One of them spit.

“Well, how the hell would anyone know!?” Sango shouted from the side, still seated on her knees beside the child. Her cheeks were flushed furiously, and her hands were held out inches from her chest, palms up, covered in blood that she was afraid would never wash off. Their attempts were in vain and the mother wept, clinging to her little girl, her face buried in her daughter’s still chest. “Conjurers are practically going extinct; you’re all winning! We don’t know what they can do! They probably don’t know what they can do! Conjurers either have to hide to save their lives, or they don’t even know they are one yet!”

For a brief second, Kagome allowed herself to glance beyond Sango’s head, finding her family. Her mother’s hands were cupped in front of her mouth, trembling as she never removed her eyes from her daughter. Her brow was creased deeply, concern etched so thick you’d think an artist may have been too heavy with their pen. Kagome couldn’t tell if her mom was breathing slowly, or if she was holding her breath. She couldn’t tell if her mom was saying a silent prayer, or if words could barely form in her mind as she had no choice but to watch the scene unfold. Her mother had to witness a daughter torn away from another; a daughter who held the same, supernatural fate as her own. Kagome could only imagine the stress that currently laced her mom’s system.

Before her stood both her brother and Sango’s, Sota bearing a wide expression, neck tense and lips parted uncertainly, and Kohaku wearing a more cautious grimace, watching apprehensively. Knowing her onlookers were nervous, worried, should have been the very thing to cause Kagome to proceed carefully, but instead it served as the switch that flicked on in her head. She was tired of living like this, done with the dreadful thought that this was their normal. This wasn’t going to continue.

She’d been waiting for a sign, waiting for her cue. Bags were packed and weapons were stored in a hiding place where they’d been training outside of the village. Miroku, Sango, and she had discussed a while ago that they were going to eventually leave together and find the called-upon conjurers, and join Kikyo to fight against Naraku. It was their - the conjurers’ - responsibility. As much as she wanted to know why, pleaded with the apparition of this seemingly all-powerful conjurer time and time again for an answer, at this point it was no longer deemed necessary. Not anymore. Kagome figured she’d hear this magical invitation telling her when and where - which was farfetched but a fair assumption given she barely had anything to go off of. She even thought she might have to wait a while longer until she was stronger, more trained in her capabilities, before Kikyo gave her some form of clear signal instead of these ominous, detail-lacking prophecies in her subconscience that she was currently getting every other night. But now a tick in her core, an itch in her chest, a steady deepening in her resolve told her the time was now. Screw waiting, screw messages, screw rolling over, screw self-pity, and screw Naraku. If he wanted a fight, if this was his initiation all along, his declaration of war, then he was finally going to get one.

“If that’s the case, bitch, then what were you telling the girl?” The demon holding her collar jerked her slightly to demand her attention, receiving it with vexation.

“I,” Kagome took as stable a breath as she could, her throat aching and voice pathetically weak, clearly evident now that it was due to the ruthless strangling she’d received. “I told her Kikyo would kill Naraku.”

“And, why the fuck would you say that?” He asked, almost surprised at her bold statement.

“I wanted her to go with hope, not fear.”

He guffawed, his chest pumping. “You don’t actually believe that!”

Without hesitation, as straight as she could manage while she halted his laughter, Kagome replied, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

His smile faded quickly, humor replaced with anger as his fists bunched tighter and he heatedly pulled Kagome away from the wall and threw her to the floor. Kagome landed on her front, quickly pressing herself to her hands and knees just before he pushed her belly down, her wrists sliding and giving out so the side of her face planted in the mud.

“Kagome -“ Her cousin called, stumblingly crawling her way before another demon kicked him in the side he’d been clutching, a tiny crunch being heard just as Miroku choked in pain.

“Miroku, stop! I’m fine!” She attempted to say clearly, a foot braced on her back.

“Enough.” The leader stated. “Everyone back in line. We haven’t finished yet.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” A man asked disbelievingly. “You don’t think you’ve done enough damage already!? Get the fuck out!”

“Yeah, get out of here!” Other villagers began to call out, joining in. “You aren’t welcome here! You’re only taking advantage because our demon slayers are gone!”

“You think that matters?” The leader chuckled. “Go ahead. Revolt. Fight back. Make us leave. See how quickly your entire village will be wasted the next time around. You see four of us and think you stand a chance. You see a large group of us and think you’re safe because you’ve got a little pack of demon slayers protecting you. Funny, that’s never stopped our inspections before, so I don’t see why you think that’d stop us now. Either way, not a single one of you would be left alive if we brought a fraction of the wild demons under Naraku’s control, and he wouldn’t bat an eye if we borrowed them to kill you all. In fact, that’s already in the plan if we don’t check in. You kill us all, congratulations, but you’ll be worse off. Compared to him, we’re the most compassionate monsters you’ll ever meet, and I suggest you learn to appreciate that. Now, get your girls back in line.”

“It’s okay, papa.” An older girl spoke. Kagome couldn’t see from where she lay, but she recognized the seventeen year-old’s voice. Ayumi. She was soft-spoken normally, but also fairly brave and kind. The only child of a widowed father, and a girl, like the rest of them, forced to grow up too soon.

Ayumi walked forward, having backed away from the rowdiness with the majority of the girls who hadn’t run back to the safety of their parents. Notching her chin upward, she raised her left palm, “Let them finish. They won’t seem so big forever.”

“Bold girl.” The demon complimented.

“Yeah. The more I find myself hoping the conjurers win, the bolder I feel.”

“Careful, now. You’ll wind up getting yourself killed.”

“Looks like being female might just get me killed, anyway. So, I might as well go down confident that Naraku is the true evil here, and evil never wins.”

“What a disgusting cliche.” He groaned. “Grow a brain and come up with something original before you spew that sort of shit. It’s embarrassing. Look, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but as the chick over there stated, we already are. We’re winning. Now, I won’t argue that we’re the bad guys here, but at this point in time, that doesn’t really matter.”

Ayumi swallowed thickly, eyes faltering downward for the smallest moment before she rose them to meet the red eyes of Naraku’s henchman. As sickeningly as that notion sat in her esophagus, Ayumi felt it would be worse if she’d sunken her shoulders at the validity of their power. By no means was she strong, and by no means was she actually all that courageous. Ayumi, true to heart, was a daydreamer, was a fantasy-enthusiast, was a soft, sweet, and hopeful wisher, was tired, was passive. So, while she could admit her stare wasn’t striking, her irises would never be vivid with the passionate heroism she dreamed about, her lips would never curve with a compelling and threatening snarl, she could also admit that just the act of matching his gaze was all she needed to do to defy defeat. With chapped lips parting, not a waver traveling over her tongue, she spoke. “Yes, it does.”

“Yes, it does.” Another girl agreed, approaching to stand beside Ayumi.

“The world hasn’t always been this way. Naraku only grew large less than five years ago.” A woman said, a mother, holding her fearful daughter in her arms. Several more girls got back in line, their shoulders a little more broadened than before. “I find it appalling how arrogant you all have gotten in such a short time. I assure you, conjurer, demon, human, or anything in between, I’d give them my trust sooner than I’d yield to the idea of life staying like this. Good and evil, the difference will always matter. So, yes. Yes, it does.”

“Inspirational.” One of Naraku’s demons remarked sarcastically, cringing.

“Hey, whatever blows your skirt up, lady.” The leader shrugged. “You can believe whatever you want. No sweat off my back. Funny enough, I’d put down all the money in my pockets right now to bet not a single one of them would return that trust, nor would they risk their lives to save you. I mean, not to play devil’s advocate or anything, but look at the twisted circumstances. What the fuck have you done to help them? Human’s are selfish; only looking out for themselves. You hate us showing up because you don’t want us to hurt you. It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with us hunting down conjurers, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with that little girl on the ground over there. If it did, you would have never watched it happen. If it did and it was just the ‘shock factor’ holding you back, you still would have done a little more than yell at us about how unfair it was. Oh, cry me a fucking river.” He grinned, stepping over to the first girl in the newly-formed line. There were less than half left that hadn’t been tested, and he got straight to work, unforgivingly slashing at the pre-teen’s palm and slapping his own to hers as he continued his heartless speech. “Even better, there’s two of your own on the floor, both of them getting quite the beating, and not a single fucking one of you did a damn thing to help. I understand the lad; that’s his - er - sister? Cousin? And, I mean, at least the chick tried to help the conjurer survive. I’ll give them kudos, but I think I speak for all of us non-humans when I say fuck the rest of you egotistical pricks. Oh no, my child might have a scar on her hand. Oh no, more trauma.” The leader mocked, his tone high and whiney. “Yeah, well, at least they’re not dead in the mud like little Suzie over there.”

There was a collective gasp from the audience at the harsh and morbid insensitivity. Still, no one challenged him. Someone should have, and no one said a thing.

Kagome tasted bile on the back of her tongue from the disgusting sentiments plaguing the thick, electric air. How cruel. She wanted to open her mouth and beg him to stop and just finish his job already, force her broken voice out to demolish his train of thought and hope he doesn’t mention the death for the remainder of his stay. The only thing stopping her was Miroku’s steady stare on her. It held more power than an order from his mouth to stay quiet ever could. With a foot on her back as a warning for more damage, the impending threat that he would easily be hurt again, and the fact that she’d said enough as it was, no matter how bold she felt in the face of this evil, she knew she was meant to face the source. She could only do that alive. So, begrudgingly, she obliged to his logical demand.

If they wanted them to finish, they needed to stop fighting. They needed to shut up. A double-edged sword. Like bowing their heads to the abuse. Enabling it. Allowing it so it ends quicker.

Kagome could feel her palms burning in the mud, a sense of humiliating defeat flooding her chest, making her feel sick to her stomach. She kept her eyes on Miroku, he kept his eyes on her. She tried to raise the volume of her thoughts, no matter how negative they were, to tune out the gasps and muffled cries of the young girls as they received the cut to their palms for testing.

How could she hold any form of power, yet still feel so powerless? How could she have the privilege of a voice, but feel so irrevocably silenced? She wanted to believe she could save everyone there if she just untied the knots concealing her abilities, but it physically pained her to understand that it was the wrong thing to do. It would be counterintuitive. It would wind up getting them all killed later. She could fight, but she also couldn’t.

“And, there you have it.” The leader finished by wiping his knife clean and slipping it back into the little holster on his hip, the hint of pride and sarcasm on his tongue. “Thank you so much for your cooperation and understanding. We’ll be seeing you.”

The demon holding Kagome down applied a small kick of pressure as he lifted off of her, chuckling as his dirty boots stuck in the mud with each step away.

There was an eerie silence, one that grew more deafening as the henchmen took their horses and disappeared from the village. It was heavy, thick, like sludge. Weighted with failure and death. Even the cries from the mother were muted. For a moment, Kagome thought that instead of drowning out the pained noises with her own thoughts, her brain had responded late to her distress by completely disabling her sense of hearing instead. But, she could hear the stickiness of the mud as she peeled herself from the ground to sit on her knees. She could hear feet slowly walking - most likely children rejoining their families. She could hear the thunder threatening them of the next onslaught of rain to come. The silence that captivated them was one that couldn’t be lifted with a simple, “Thank god that’s over.” No one could make it dissipate by asking if everyone was okay. Because, it didn’t matter.

And, that was something everyone, even the young, could recognize.

The small talk that would eventually come when everyone was back in their homes, the whispers, the crying, and maybe even tiny chuckles from people trying to find the little joys to get them through this, they would all be irrelevant. Because, outside there would be a blanket of despair thicker than the friction-inducing clouds hanging over them at this very moment, and it promised them there that it would stick around as long as it needed to.

“Hey,” A soft voice spoke in Kagome’s ear, a gentle, cold hand brushing her arm, and it was only when she gasped and jerked upright that she realized she’d been hanging her head, sights stuck on her hands on her thighs. “Sh, sh. It’s just me.” Her mother reassured, kneeling beside her and using her sleeve to try and wipe her face clean of some clumpy mud. “Are you alright, honey?”

Out of sheer reaction, she gave a meager nod.

“Look at me, Kagome. Look at me. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” Kagome said as convincingly as possible. When Miroku groaned, catching her mother’s attention and even her own, she was happy to have the focus off of her. Kohaku and Sango were beside him, trying to sit him up, freezing as he struggled.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get you home.” A couple, larger village men came over, better suited to help. One of them firmly clasped his hand in Miroku’s, quickly pulling him up to his feet so the pain wouldn’t be dragged out. Her cousin hissed at the shock, clenching his throat to try and swallow his grumble, and the two men supported him by pulling his arms over their shoulders.

“Can you stand?” Kagome’s mother asked.

“Yeah.” She whispered, not wanting to irritate her throat further and finding no real need to speak up right now. “I’m fine, mama. Don’t worry about me. Miroku needs your attention more.”

“Even if that were true, he’s kind of surrounded. I don’t think I’m needed there, love.” She replied, grabbing her by her elbow to support her as they stood together. “Sota, take her other side, please. Just in case.”

“Wait.” A broken voice called to them, trembling but by no means weak.

They all stopped just two steps in, looking over to the mother on the ground. Her daughter’s body, from head to toe, was covered by a long cloak belonging to one of the villagers beside her now, attempting to give comfort.

“Kikyo? Is that what you’d said? Kikyo?” She asked Kagome.

As clearly as she could, with a little nod of her head as she processed the question, Kagome said, “Yes.”

“Who is that?”

Kagome could feel the tension in her brow falter as the sympathetic, concerned curve in them wilted away to change more into dubiousness. “You - you don’t…” She didn’t know who Kikyo was. Even her own mother knew who Kikyo was. Her mom was the first to hear about her dreams before she started discussing them with the rest of her family. Had her daughter not had the same messages coming to her? Or, was she so confused, so distraught from them all, that she chose secrecy over being seen as insane?

“She’s a conjurer.” Kagome answered.

“Is she - is she a strong conjurer?”

“I think so.”

“I’m sorry, did your daughter never mention anything about Kikyo?” Sango carefully asked.

“N-no. Why would she?”

“We were just under the impression that she may have been sending survivors telepathic signals of sorts.” She said.

“That’s preposterous.” A man scoffed.

“Maybe. We heard it in passing. From an old man, no less.” Miroku said, discomfort laced in his tone.

“What - what could she possibly have had to say to a little girl?” The mother asked, her bottom lip quivering while her hand rested on her daughter’s chest.

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew.” The words were painful to speak. Not from her throat, but from the fact that she had to lie to a woman who’d had her everything stolen from her. A woman who, more than anyone, deserved the truth.

When she’d said what she’d said about Kikyo before, the little girl had muttered something in return before the demon tore Kagome away. It seemed like she was about to ask who Kikyo was. Kagome was sure now that the kid didn’t know. She hadn’t had the dreams, the premonitions, the one-sided conversations, nothing. She hadn’t had any communication with Kikyo, whatsoever. Maybe Kikyo was kind to exclude the young, and only spoke to the older, potentially more conditioned conjurers.

Or, maybe there was a possibility that Kagome was the only one.

And, it terrified her.

“Will she win? Kikyo? Will she defeat Naraku?” The crying mother asked.

Kagome was finding it hard to reply, to communicate. Her throat was tightening up as she watched the woman’s body begin to crumble once more toward her little girl’s; like she needed to be connected with her to prevent her from going cold. She could feel her eyes stinging, tears brimming, her fingers quaking and legs growing weak. Her cheeks felt hot and her chest wouldn’t allow a full breath of air - only unsteady, unmatched, quick puffs that burned. A hot hand slid into her right, her brother’s fingers tightening their grip, but she couldn’t control her body enough to grab it back.

“I refuse to believe otherwise.” Sango answered confidently.

The mother now sobbed, nodding in acknowledgment as she weeped over the covered body of her daughter. “Thank you.”

Kagome wanted to apologize profusely. For failing to protect her. For failing to try to protect her. For her loss. For the chance she was never given to learn to defend herself. For the silence she had to keep. The guilt was so heavy on her shoulders, she was ready to give in in front of them all, but the hand in hers pulled her back, made her move.

More villagers were moving toward the mother and child to help comfort while they removed the body, and that was the prime opportunity to get Kagome out of there. Sota could tell from the moment it started that she was going to break down, maybe even panic. He knew his sister, he knew the signs, he understood the stress she was under, and he wanted nothing more than to get her away and help her as best as he could. So, he disregarded everyone else and began pulling Kagome ahead. Miroku would have to move at a slower pace, Sango and Kohaku would stick by him and the men that helped, and he figured their mom would respect that they needed a moment of peace where they weren’t under more eyes than necessary.

Sota ignored the broken utterances of his name that came from his sister, he ignored the threatening weather, and he ignored anything that could potentially get in his way. He directed Kagome around their house, to the back, and toward the tree line of the woods. Three trees in past the shrubbery bush, on the opposite side of the trunk, Sota found the rope ladder to the treehouse their dad had built them hanging. Holding it steady, he released Kagome’s hand.

“Come on. Climb.”

-> | next chapter |

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angelswithcigarettes · 3 years

Text

“A new connection”

Summary: Spencer's father comes back into his life.

Series: The journey of finding a home [Part 4]

Series Summary: With getting Spencer on the team, Gideon gets him out of the hands of his abusive Father. He knows his team are the right people to show him the kindness of this world but even if he was supposed to be one of the greatest profiler ever seen he didn't expect Morgan to be the one that puts the most effort into it.

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Past Child Abuse, Emotional/ Psychological Abuse

Relevant Tags: Autistic Spencer Reid

Word Count: 8579

Chapters: 6/6

First Chapter:

[I advice you to read the other parts first]

If there is something Spencer loves when it comes to Morgan touching him it is when they lay in bed and he takes his finger and gently moves them over his cheeks, mostly with his knuckles and moves sometimes around his face and Morgan adores how Spencer will first giggle and the eventually relax, maybe humming slightly.

"I want to -" Spencer stops himself and then opens his eyes and dares to lock Morgan in the eyes for a second and then looks at the ceiling again.

In the beginning this would make Morgan insecure but by now he is used to him looking past him. Or on the floor. Or ceiling. More on the floor than on the ceiling.

There are rare occasions were he looks him directly in the eyes.

"Can we go get ice cake from the café down at the - at the park? At the park with Clooney?"

"Of course."

"All of the things?"

"All of the things." Morgan could break out in tears out of pride caused by Spencer asking to do things or for things.

When he first met him, Spencer would just not ask for anything. If no one would offer he would just go the whole day without food or water.

Gideon had told him that Spencer on many occasions fainted in the academy because he over did himself with physical exercises or got to caught up in reading the manuals.

Seeing him sitting on the grass, with Clooney laying next to him putting his head on Spencer's legs while he sits crossed legged, he can not understand how he could have let himself get so insecure about this relationship based on the option of people who have meet him for a few hours.

Morgan tears his attention away for a second chatting with a women next to him waiting for her order too while Spencer gets approached by a man causing Spencer to put an arm around the dog.

"I thought I recognised you." The man says looking down on Spencer. "Who is that friend of yours?"

"Clooney" Anxious but also feeling comfort in the familiar warm of his father's face.

"Can I pet him?"

"Yes" William reaches down wanting to pat him but the dogs starts barking causing the man to stand up straight again and to catch Morgan's attention.

"Excuse me, I will be right back."

"Oh he is a violent one." William says with a smile a little bit surprised by the reaction.

"He isn't." Spencer holds the leash. "Morgan will calm him down."

"Morgan?" The man turns around, seeing Morgan approaching them. Not running but also not walking like he has much time. "Is he here with you?"

"Yes."

"Okay, listen buddy I have to go."

"You can meet him!"

"No don't tell him I was here. I was a stranger asking about your dog." And as fast as he was there he was gone again and Morgan was there in front of him, talking to him but not making any sense and Clooney is there. Clooney is there. Clooney is putting pressure on his stomach. He likes that.

"There you go, pretty boy." He is sitting in Morgan's lap now. "That's good, look at you, breathing like the genius you are." He tries cheering him up, his fingers just like this morning running up and down his cheek and Clooney nudges Spencer's hands. "I think someone wants cuddles."

"A stranger asked about my dog."

"He is a cute dog what can I say?"

"A stranger asked about my dog."

"I know, it's nothing to be embarrassed about that that didn't went well."

"A stranger asked about my dog."

"Clooney is fine, come on" Morgan takes Spencer's hand and places it on Clooney's head. "I am sure he just wanted to know something about him."

"My friend."

"Absolutely"

"My friend."

"And what did he do? He protected you nobody will touch you when he is there." Morgan jokes even though its actually true.

He has heard about dogs being sensitive but he always thought people exaggerate to integrate their dogs into their family, but whenever they are out outside of their job, Spencer takes the dog with him and if he gets overwhelmed he will sit down with him or play with the leash.

What Morgan finds the most heartwarming is when he hears Spencer talking to him, full on monologues about everything. About cases, about the team, about his newest hyper fixation, about Morgan when he thinks he isn't around and even sometimes about his family.

The amount of information Morgan got from just standing around the corner is something he is not proud of.

"I am sorry - I just wanted to let you guys now that the lady in the stand put your order in the freezer you can pick it up whenever you are ready. Or I can bring it to you." The women Morgan talked to before he saw Clooney barking at the man offers kindly after approaching them.

"Thank you for telling us." Morgan waits until the women is gone. "You want some cake?" Shyly Spencer nods and ensures Morgan he can be left alone if Clooney stays.

What neither of them expected was that the moment he turns his back around William starts approaching him again and then hands him a business card. "Call me okay?"

He is gone again before Morgan can even get the cake. He isn't suspicious at what happened, interacting with strangers, especially men that are older in physically advanced in comparison to him, does often not end well if no one he knows is with him.

Morgan would go as far as to say he worked out a pattern.

Women are fine unless they are in their fifties and have reddish hair, he assumed that someone this age with this specific hair color at some point in any way harmed him.

Men his age and younger are usually fine unless they are wearing a blue uniform which is unfortunate on the job.

What never plays out are men in their late fortys already having light hair or gray hair just like the man or slightly younger man with brown hair.

Which is a problem because Hotch fits this criteria but its better than in the beginning.

Will went through that too, but they are pretty sure it was the name that caused the panic.

There are a few things that Morgan avoids wearing as well.

For starters grey suits, they tried it multiple times, not working out. It took quite some time to realize that.

Secondly a different cologne. Spencer takes immense comfort in familiar smells, and if Morgan smells different he tends to get a little bit unsettled.

Change in general is not something he appreciates.

In other people it just doesn't fit him but he knows that he is not allowed to be rude because of it and he really tries not to. But he also doesn't understand why he is not allowed to be honest, JJ had cut her hair short a few ago and Spencer had, after she asks what he thinks, told her that she doesn't look as pretty as before and thanks to the aftermath of her pregnancy she just started crying.

He got overwhelmed trying to comfort her because that wasn't what he wanted to do. He awkwardly told her that it will grow back and that people who haven't met her doesn't know that she looked better before and he really tried his best but was just making it worse.

Emily stepped quickly in and sat down with him and not in an offensive way asked why he would say something like this and then proceeded to make it more clear to him by asking him how he would feel if someone said that to him.

When Spencer in the evening prompted how he likes "that there isn't much you can change with your hair" towards Morgan because "people don't know what they want when they ask for an opinion on their hair" he maybe couldn't hold back a laughter.

What Morgan did not in any way put in consideration is his reaction to him shortening Clooney's hair for the summer because when he picked Spencer up from Rossi's in the evening he did not like it at all and it took a long time of him crying and Morgan patiently waiting for him to welcome the dog and Rossi got reminded of the time Spencer lived at his mansion and when almost everything would send him over the edge.

"Here is the ice cake we so well deserve." Having a day off is not something they are used too and for a long time not something Spencer liked and just ignored by coming in with Gideon who never took a day off.

"A stranger came over and asked about my dog."

"I know" Morgan leans down kissing him on the cheek and then hands him his plate.

He improved a lot. Both of them. Spencer in speaking and Morgan in understanding but there are still many things that go missing.

"A stranger came over and asked about my dog."

"What have you got there?" Morgan asks pointing at the cards he holds in his fist.

"What have you got there? A stranger came and asked about my dog." Sceptical Morgan takes the card out of his hand and reads the ingredients.

"A stranger? Are you serious right now?"

"A stranger came and asked about my dog."

"Yeah I don't think so." Morgan holds the card up in front of him. "William Reid? Doesn't sound like a stranger to me."

More chapters:

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #ao3 author #aaron hotchner #moreid #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #cm #penelope garcia #derek morgan x spencer reid #autistic spencer reid

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five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Interview with a Ghost (part 5: Buried)

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)

"What?" said Captain Jones, as Collins and Paterson finished explaining their understanding of the situation to him. "What? What?"

"That was my reaction, too," said Paterson. "Just, you know, internally."

Jones waved one hand, the other supporting his forehead.

"Er, sir?" said Collins, leaning forward, trying to catch the captain's eye. "How should we, you know, proceed on this? I don't think there's any precedent."

The captain bit back a groan. "No, there isn't. He was insistent that the Fentons, his parents, didn't do anything to him?"

"Yeah."

"But it still can't be- can't be healthy for a ghost or- or whatever he is to be there," said Jones. This was making his head hurt. "They have weapons, and even if it was an accident, he died and they- No one noticed!"

"That is pretty messed up," agreed Paterson.

"That's got to be child neglect, at least, right? Negligent homicide?"

Collins nodded. "We can't really charge them with that, though, can we? Not without revealing he's a ghost and getting the GIW and whoever stole the body coming down on us."

"That could just be something Phantom's saying, though," said Paterson. "We don't know if it's true or not."

"It felt true," said Collins. "He sounded like he was actually scared."

"But can we just let a kid- two kids, with his sister- be in a situation like that? Even if one of them is dead. Especially if one of them is dead. Or whatever Fenton, Phantom, whatever, is claiming to be."

"He didn't really claim to be anything, really," said Collins.

"Look, I already have a headache as it is. What it comes down to is, I don't want a kid to be living under the same roof as people who regularly and publicly shoot at him."

"So, what do we do?" asked Collins. "He doesn't want to leave, and I don't think we can make him, physically."

"No, we can't. But does he know that?"

"I think he's aware of his laser murder powers," said Paterson.

"He kept coming to talk to you, though," said Jones. He massaged the bridge of his nose. "There's something here..." Suddenly, it all came together. He clapped his hands. "He wants to keep his secret from the public, right? That's our leverage."

"Leverage?" asked Collins, dubiously. "Captain... he is still a teenager."

"I know, I know, but hear me out. We tell him, he has to let his parents know, and his parents, they have to make their house safe for him. If they're reasonable, they'll do it. If not, we can get them for, I don't know, going crazy and thinking their kid is a ghost, or having weapons all over their home. Obviously, he isn't. That's the position we'd maintain." Jones took a deep breath. "No need to expose him publicly, and, as long as he isn't, he'll have to act like he's human, right? If he wants to maintain the illusion?"

"I guess that would work," said Collins. "But... do we have to get child protective services involved? I don't see that going well."

"Not if everyone is reasonable," said Jones, a crazed look in his eyes.

"Hold up," said Paterson. "Doesn't this hinge on getting him to, you know, tell his parents?"

"Weapons. Home. Around children. And- We'll agree to bury the rest. Tear up documents. Hide everything. Cover for him. We already know what killed him. What's the point of bringing it into the light?"

Collins and Paterson both nodded slowly. "I'll call him," said Collins.

There was a knock on the door. The three glanced at each other.

"Come in," said the captain.

One of the officers stuck her head in. "Sir?" she said. "The mayor is here to see you."

Danny would have been at home, plotting with Jazz about how to get his body back, but, no, Skulker had to show up, again. He should have wrecked his suit instead of just sucking him into the thermos last night.

"Hah! Ghost child!" shouted Skulker. "Today I will have your pelt! I have new-!"

Danny screamed in frustration, the harmonics of his voice almost touching a ghostly wail. "Can you leave off about my pelt for like five seconds?" demanded Danny, attacking more aggressively than was his usual wont. One of Skulker's arms flew off his body, clattering on the tiles of a nearby roof. "Didn't you have enough of that, helping Vlad steal my corpse yesterday?" There, after days of dancing around the word, he had finally said it.

"Wait, your what?" asked Skulker, pirouetting awkwardly to avoid another barrage of ectoblasts.

"My. Corpse!" screamed Danny. "You helped him steal my corpse!"

"You don't have a corpse, you're still alive!"

"Shut up!" It was a good thing they were so far up. Even at the volumes they were speaking, they wouldn't be overheard. "You don't know anything! I'm half dead, so I have half a corpse, and I had to bury it, and then the police found it, and you helped Vlad steal it!" Danny was basically in tears at this point, hands clenching the metal of Skulker's chest so hard it buckled and warped, holding the unfortunate ghost above his head.

A number of complicated emotions passed over Skulker's face. "Uh," he said. "Time out?"

"What?" snarled Danny. He was more than ready to rip Skulker apart.

"Your body, whatever there is of it, did Plasmius really take it?"

"He basically gloated about it to my friends," said Danny.

Skulker's face twisted up, the metal plates it consisted of glinting in the sunlight. "Disturbing the remains of another ghost is... distasteful, at best." He shifted, obviously trying to get out of Danny's grip. Danny held on, tighter. "Let me go," he said. "I'll spread the word. There won't be a ghost in the Zone who'll work for Plasmius after this."

Danny sniffed. "I want it back," he said.

"Of course you do," said Skulker, nervously. "Just- let me go, alright, ghost child?" He paused. "Phantom?"

Danny relaxed his grip. Before Skulker could recover, he whipped out the thermos and sucked the other ghost in.

"I'll let you go," he grumbled. "Right into the Ghost Zone."

Jones did not like Mayor Masters. A complete outsider, a stranger to Amity Park, the man had somehow wormed his way into the mayor's office. Jones had always suspected bribery, but had no evidence.

This visit of his... it was suspicious. Incredibly suspicious. The timing felt rotten. Masters had barely set foot inside the station before this.

Well, the timing and the questions he was asking. Jones was glad he had told everyone to deflect questions about the body and Phantom beforehand, no matter who was asking.

Jones fixed a grin onto his face. "I'm sorry, Mr. Masters," he said. "We can't discuss ongoing investigations."

"I think," said Masters, "that, as mayor, I am exempt from that rule. I am, after all, your boss."

"That's true," said Jones, "but this case is especially sensitive, and everyone is a suspect."

"I can't possibly be," said Masters. "I didn't even live here two years ago. I believe you are dancing around the subject, sir. Let us not have our personal feelings get in the way of things, hm?"

This bastard- There was no way he should have known that particular detail. Not without suborning the ME or her assistant.

Or stealing the records. The initial reports had gone missing with the body, and the computer system had been hacked.

Jones pressed his teeth together so hard they ached. He could feel them grinding inside his head.

"Why don't I give you an overview of what we know so far?" he asked, voice as sweet as he could stand to make it. "We'll start with Cameron over here. He's the head of our cult division, and a real wizard with computers."

If anyone could drive the man off, it was Cameron.

"I didn't think babypop even had a corpse," said Ember, crossing his arms. "Are you sure he isn't just delusional?"

"He could be," said Skulker, "but that's not the point. He believes it. Do you really want to be dealing with him as a restless spirit?"

"Oh, god, no. He's already such a spoilsport. Can you imagine?" The blue flame her hair was drawn back into shuddered.

"I don't have to imagine," said Skulker. "He tore my arm off."

"He always tears your arms off," said Ember, dismissively.

"He's only going to get worse though," said Skulker, "if it really is his body. If Plasmius is doing anything to it. That anxiety. A person's body should be taken care of properly, not messed about with."

"Hey!" said Technus, who was on the other side of the room, fixing Skulker's mechanical body. "I donated MY body to SCIENCE! I'm perfectly fine."

"Yeah," said Ember. "Some people would disagree with that, but the thing is you chose to do that. Those're the rites you wanted."

"Do you think I, the great TECHNUS, master of all things technological and-"

"No, actually, I don't think you knew," said Ember.

"Ohhhhh! I'll alter all your auxiliary cables, you little-!"

"Can we get back on topic?" asked Skulker, his high-pitched voice cutting above the argument. "We need to get Phantom's body back! Otherwise he'll be completely unbearable!"

The ghosts looked at each other. "Agreed," they said.

Danny leaned over Tucker's shoulder. "Are you sure?" he said.

"Positive," said Tucker. "Sorry, man, but Vlad's super secret super villain stuff isn't online. Your body isn't mentioned at all. Nothing is. His internet enabled stuff is all pretty bland, compared to what we know he's doing. I mean, some of it is kind of sketchy, but it just isn't the same level."

"Anything we can blackmail him with?" asked Sam.

"Not really. We can't exactly say how we got it, after all, so he'd have plausible deniability."

Danny groaned. The groan turned into a long plume of blue mist. Danny growled. "Whoever is interrupting this time-"

"Whoa, calm down, man," said Tucker. "This is pretty normal."

Danny's phone began to ring. If this was those detective he was going to-

It was Jazz. "What?" he asked.

"The ecto-exodus alarm is going off," said Jazz. "Where are you?"

"Tucker's," said Danny. "I'm going to check it out."

"Be safe. Mom and Dad are out there with blasters, and they've notified the GIW."

"Noted," said Danny. He hung up, then turned to Sam and Tucker. "This is a big one, apparently. You might want to stay in."

"Good luck with that," said Tucker, pulling a ecto-rifle from beneath his desk. "I've been wanting to try this baby out."

"Please don't name it," said Sam.

"I think I will!" said Tucker.

"Just don't shoot if we're not fighting, okay? They might not be here to cause trouble. Don't give me that look, I'm trying out some optimism."

Before his friends could say anything about that, he flew up through the roof. From there, he had no problem picking out the crowd of ghosts who had just passed by.

Skulker was leading them. Danny scowled, and flew forward to intercept them, too angry to process whether or not confronting a group of ghosts that large was wise.

"Hey!" he shouted. "I thought you said you'd leave!"

"Chill, babypop!" shouted Ember. "You're a cold core, aren't you? We're here to get your body back."

That brought Danny up short. "Wait, really?"

The other ghosts, largely the rabble of the Wastes, the region of the Ghost Zone right outside the Fenton portal, gave a ragged sort of cheer.

"Yeah. And trash Plasmius's crap."

"Oh," said Danny, taken aback. "He has a ghost shield around his mansion, you know. A human shield, too, before you say I can get past that."

Poindexter floated up, over the mass of the crowd. "He can't keep them up all the time, can he?" he asked adjusting his glasses.

"No, I guess he can't. One sec." He pulled out his phone. "Hey, Tucker, can you find out where Vlad is right now?"

"... and these are the cults that believe ghosts are divine messengers, there's a lot of variety in them, too," Cameron was saying, pointing eagerly at his computer screen.

"Excuse me," said Vlad. "But I don't see how this is relevant. At all. To anything."

"Oh, it's very important," said Collins, nodding sagely. "We got some of our best leads in this case from the cults."

Cameron beamed.

"I am myself quite familiar with the local cults," said Vlad. "If they become relevant, I'm sure I can come back to-"

"No, no, Mr. Mayor," said Paterson, "you won't understand without context."

"I-"

Several dozen ghosts suddenly entered through the roof. Everyone dove for cover.

"Hiya, grave robbers!" shouted a ghost with fiery blue hair. Ember McClain. "Or one grave robber in particular."

Actually, come to think of it, she'd masqueraded as a human for a while, too. Collins was going to have a crisis about how easily ghosts could blend in with humans at some point in the near future. Not today, but before the end of the week. He'd need to talk to a shrink. Preferably one who wasn't a ghost.

Oddly, the ghosts weren't attacking.

The sound of Mayor Masters clearing his throat issued from behind a sizable desk. "What are you here for?" he asked.

"You know, grave robber. We've got a bone to pick with you, until you give back what you took."

A few feet away from Collins, Jones inhaled deeply. He stood up. Collins resisted the urge to drag him back down.

"We don't have Phantom's body," said Jones, "if that's what you're here for."

"We know," said Ember. "That's what this's about. We know who took it, and we don't want to deal with Phantom while he's freaking out over some jerk having his body. So. We're giving an ultimatum-"

"Hey, guys," said Phantom's voice. "I found the shield deactivation button. It was in his car, next to his garage door opener."

"Oh, cool. You trash his car?"

"Nah, I let these little gremlin dudes do it. They looked like they were having fun."

"Whatever, babypop. Let's go get your body!"

As quickly as they came, the ghosts were gone.

Mayor Masters swore, and started for the door.

"Hold up," said Jones, putting a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Where exactly do you think you're going?"

"To call some competent ghost hunters, since those menaces are clearly after my belongings!"

"Nuh uh," said Jones. "We've got some questions for you."

"Yeah," said Collins, "like why you seem to think that they're going to your house, when they could have been talking about anyone."

"Wow!" said Cameron, smiling. "That was exciting! I'm glad I was livestreaming, like you told me to, Paterson!"

"Well," said Vlad. He paused. "I need to call my lawyer."

"Better make sure they're a competent one," mocked Jones.

Collins was surprised when Phantom materialized in the middle of the room with a long, dark plastic body bag in his arms. So were most people. Across the room, next to the coffee machine, one of his more caffeine-addicted coworkers do a spit take, and Jones burst out of his office in an avalanche of paperwork.

"I want a burial," said Phantom, finally. "A real one, this time."

Silence.

"I think I can arrange that," said Captain Jones.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay2020 #dannymay 2020 #day 27

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margherita-dascenzo · 4 years

Note

Rita, ¿cuál es la experiencia más aterradora que has vivido en la mansión Sakamaki? ¿Alguna vez has tenido miedo de Laito o de alguno de sus hermanos?

TW: PHOBIAS, NO CONSENT

[Spanish version under the cut/Versión en español abajo del corte]

Sugar-lolipop asks:

Rita: What is the scariest experience you have ever had in the Sakamaki mansion? Have you ever been afraid of Laito or one of his brothers?

Hello! Thank you very much for your question💕

TL:DR: Yes I had it

Yes... Unfortunately I have. But what terrified me the most and that I am terrified of being repeated is a situation with Laito.

Like humans, we can have certain disabilities. Since birth I have suffered from Nictalopia, which is the disability or reduction of vision in the dark, which is quite pathetic for a vampire heh... Before I could distinguish people in the dark, you know, see silhouettes and things like that. But after that incident where I spent a long time without ingesting blood, it got worse to the point where I currently can't see anything in the dark anymore, and I'm not going to lie to you… it scares me. It is not only about being in the dark and not knowing what is happening around me, it's also that my predatory instinct feels violated and a chaos of sensations and anxiety forms within me that I cannot control. My senses are always supposed to be alert as a natural hunter, but in the dark I am absolutely dependent on my hearing, so any sound makes me alert and aggressive. I go into a state of permanent paranoia, hitting the walls or furniture around me, and listening to every noise. And I don't calm down until I find a minimal source of light.

Well, I told Yui about this one night… a month, a month and a half after I arrived. I felt that I should tell her, I wanted her to feel safe by my side despite our difference in species and what they had made her live. But silly of me to trust, I completely forgot that this mansion is full of eyes and ears on all sides.

Like a week later, Laito took me to the dungeon of the house. 'Oh Margherita, and why do you listen to him and go with him?' I don't know, I thought maybe he wanted intimacy between the two of us… I don't know. And I wasn't so wrong, he started kissing me and I liked it, I'm not going to lie.

But… suddenly he said 'I have a surprise for you' and he put that damn smile… he approached one of the only two kerosene lanterns that lit us, and closed the stopcock, turning it off. Instinctively I ran to the other who was close to me, and hugged him to my chest as if my life depended on it. I remember that he was wearing one of my favorite blouses, a pastel blue, with ruffles that with the heat of the lamp, began to burn little by little.

I begged him to let me go, not to turn off the light, that he would forgive me for whatever I did. My thick tears were getting into my nose and mouth, I yelled at him to leave, tried to hit him, but he still placed his delicate pianist hand on my back and threw me to the ground, robbing me of the only hope I had left.

At first I thought he was going to leave me there and make fun, I just had to take a deep breath, remember where I was and try to get to the stairs. I got up very slowly but the chains, which the last time I saw them were behind my back, away from the two of us, began to jingle all over the place. I swear my voice was not coming out of my throat, my breathing began to shake, the only thing I could do was take great sighs to try to calm myself.

If it had all stayed there, I would have endured it, but of course Laito would not leave it unfinished. He began to push me from the front and back, to laugh with that psychopathic laugh that he has, making fun of me, teleporting around the room, talking to me about the corners of the dungeon, to my right, to my left. He approached my ear, whispered rudeness to me and disappeared, groped my butt, my breasts and kissed my neck at times while making sexual comments, to move away again and throw metal objects that made a huge noise when they fell, that I couldn't see by the darkness, did not know where they came from. I tried to hit him awkwardly, but he was faster and had an advantage over me. I tripped and fell to the ground, I approached the walls, scratched by nerves, threw slaps trying to get him away from me. I was confused and terrified, I couldn't believe that he was mistreating me in such a way. At one point he started pulling on my hair, very hard, I felt like I could yank everything out. But he only did it to take a big bite at my throat, piercing my skin. I felt tremendous pain, his fangs were almost touching my windpipe, I was afraid that he would rip it off, but he let go of me and I fell to the ground along with my drops of blood. My sensitive ears ached from all the noise, my eyes burned from crying, and my throat was in pieces, blood mixed with snot and tears that fell from my face. All of that would heal in a matter of minutes, but I could never forget what he did to me. Violating my privacy with Yui, using my fear and visual impairment against me...

I think with all the noise and my screaming we got attention, because Subaru and Reiji came down to see what was happening. Luckily for me they did it with flashlights. But the only thing they found was me, made a ball of tears and blood, with scratches on my arms from the despair I had, among lamps, chains and other things thrown on the ground, but without traces of the bite that had already healed. Until then Laito hasn't been with me alone again, which I appreciate.

Phobias are not something we can control, they are irrational. There are few times that I feared for my life, or of what truly I was scared. This is one of those, and I never want it to be repeated in the eternity that remains.

TL:DR: Sí, la tuve

Hola! Muchas gracias por tu pregunta💕

TW: FOBIAS, NO CONSENTIMIENTO

Sí… Lamentablemente las he tenido. Pero lo que más me aterró y que tengo pavor de que se repita es una situación con Laito.

Al igual que los humanos, podemos tener ciertas discapacidades. Desde nacimiento padezco de Nictalopía, que es la incapacidad o reducción de la visión en la oscuridad, lo cual es bastante patético para un vampiro heh… Antes podía distinguir a las personas en la oscuridad, ya sabes, ver siluetas y cosas así. Pero después de *ese* incidente donde estuve mucho tiempo sin ingerir sangre, empeoró al punto donde actualmente ya no puedo ver nada en la oscuridad, y no voy a mentirte… me da miedo. No solo se trata de estar en la oscuridad y no saber que pasa a mi alrededor, si no que mi instinto depredador se siente vulnerado y se forma dentro mío un caos de sensaciones y ansiedad que no puedo controlar. Se supone que mis sentidos siempre deben estar alerta como cazadora narural, pero en la oscuridad dependo absolutamente de mi audición, así que cualquier sonido me pone alerta y agresiva. Entro en un estado de paranoia permanente, golpeándome con las paredes o muebles a mi alrededor, y estando atenta a cada ruido. Y no me calmo hasta que encuentro una mínima fuente de luz.

Bien, esto se lo conté a Yui una noche… al mes, mes y medio de mi llegada. Sentí que debía contárselo, quería que se sintiera segura a mi lado a pesar de nuestra diferencia de especies y de lo que le habían hecho vivir. Pero tonta de mi de confiar, se me me olvidó por completo que esta mansión, está llena de ojos y oídos por todos lados.

Cómo una semana después, Laito me llevó al calabozo de la casa. 'Oh Margherita, y para que le haces caso y vas detrás de él?' No sé, creí que quizás quería intimidad entre nosotros dos… no lo sé. Y tan equivocada no estaba, me comenzó a besar y me gustó, no voy a mentir.

Pero… de repente él dijo 'Te tengo una sorpresa' y puso esa maldita sonrisa… Se acercó a uno de los únicos dos faroles de keroseno que nos iluminaban, y cerró la llave de paso, apagándolo. Instintivamente corrí hacia el otro que estaba cerca mío, y lo abrace a mi pecho como si mi vida dependiera de ello. Recuerdo que llevaba una de mis blusas favoritas, una celeste pastel, con volados que con el calor de la lámpara comenzó a quemarse poco a poco.

Le rogué que me dejara ir, que no apagara la luz, que me perdonará por lo que sea que haya hecho, pero que no lo hiciera. Mis lágrimas espesas se metían en mi nariz y boca, le grite para que se fuera, trate de golpearlo, pero aún así colocó su delicada mano de pianista en mi espalda y me aventó al suelo, robándome la única esperanza que me quedaba.

Al principio creí que iba a dejarme ahí y burlarse, solo tenía respirar hondo, recordar dónde estaba y tratar de llegar a las escaleras. Me levanté muy despacio pero las cadenas, que la última vez que pude verlas estaban a mis espaldas, lejos de nosotros dos, comenzaron a tintinear por todo el lugar. Juro que mi voz no salía de mi garganta, mi respiración comenzó a agitarse, lo único que podía hacer era dar grandes suspiros para intentar tranquilizarme.

Si hubiera todo quedado ahí, lo habría soportado, pero claro que Laito no lo dejaría sin terminar. Empezó a empujarme de frente y de espaldas, a reír con esa risa psicópata que tiene, burlándose de mí, se teletransportaba por toda la sala, hablándome de las esquinas del calabozo, a mi derecha, a mi izquierda. Se acercaba a mi oído, me susurraba groserías y desaparecía, manoseaba mi trasero, mis pechos y besaba mi cuello por momentos mientras hacía comentarios sexuales, para volver a alejarse y arrojar objetos metálicos que hacían un estruendo enorme al caer, que no podía ver por la oscuridad, no sabía de dónde venían. Traté de golpearlo torpemente, pero él era más rápido y tenía ventaja sobre mí. Tropecé y caí al suelo, me acerque a las paredes, arañadas por los nervios, lanzaba manotazos tratando de que se alejara de mí. Estaba confundida y aterrada, no podía creer que me estuviera maltratando de tal forma. En un punto comenzó a jalar de mi cabello, muy fuerte, sentí que podía arrancar todo de un tirón. Pero solo lo hizo para dar un gran mordisco en mi garganta, perforando mi piel. Sentí un dolor tremendo, sus colmillos casi tocaban mi tráquea, tenía miedo de que diera un tirón y me la arrancara, pero me soltó y caí al suelo junto con mis gotas de sangre. Mis oídos sensibles me dolían por todo el ruido, mis ojos ardían por tanto llorar, y mi garganta estaba hecha pedazos, la sangre se mezclaba con los mocos y lágrimas que caían de mi cara. Todo eso sanaría en cuestión de minutos, pero jamás podría olvidar lo que me hizo. Violar mi privacidad con Yui, usar mi miedo y disminución visual en mi contra…

Creo que con todo el ruido y mis gritos llamamos la atención, porque Subaru y Reiji bajaron a ver qué sucedía. Para mí suerte lo hicieron con unas linternas. Pero lo único que encontraron fue a mi, hecha una bola de lágrimas y sangre, con rasguños en mis brazos por la desesperación que tenía, entre lámparas, cadenas y demas cosas tiradas por el suelo, pero sin rastros de la mordida que ya había sanado. Hasta entonces Laito no ha estado conmigo a solas de nuevo, lo cual agradezco.

Las fobias no son algo que podamos controlar, son irracionales. Son pocas las veces que temí por mi vida, o de qué verdaderamente estuve asustada. Esta es una de esas, y no quiero que jamás se repita en la eternidad que me resta.

#my ocs #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers oc #phobia #ask blog #send me asks #answered ask #español

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

We all know Kohga is perpetually horny as hell, but I'd love to see what would happen if he ended up taking (accidentally or otherwise) an aphrodisiac potion. 😆

I've actually had a thought for EXACTLY this idea! Let's get to it!

Revali had once again invited his friends over to his home. It wasn't to bond with them of course, but rather, as a means to show off how well he re-decorated the place. New tapestry, a nice vase, the whole nine yards, all within his humble little space. He was currently giving the princess a tour, feathers all proud and puffed.

“And as you can see, Princess, THIS is the finest vase you’ve ever seen, have you not?”

“It is quite the collection! Though I must ask, what is that one?”

She pointed towards a small, pink vial of liquid. He plucked it from the shelf, scoffing.

“Oh, forgot I left it out here. It’s what we use during this time of year. We call it ‘anti down’, and it keeps us from acting a fool during heat. All Rito have it, but I refuse to act like a dog and hump everything. Unlike your little knight with Mipha."

Revali HATED that Link STILL didn't react to that blatant slander. Cheeky, even in his own home. Zelda butted in between them, as per usual.

"I had no idea you Rito HAD something for heat!"

"Because we're above primitive desires. Unfortunately our biology is so unique, it does the OPPOSITE effect if any other species takes it. I'll be sure to put this a-NO LINK!"

Link was starting to eat the decorated fruit bowl, and Revali put the bottle down in order to try to pull him off. Kohga watched their dumb little fruit fight, when he noticed the smallest bottle on the counter. Must be one of those fancy rito drinks. He made sure no one was looking, before he swiped it, tucking it away in his suit.

"Hey Revali, I'd LOVE to stay and chat, but uh. I'm bored. So, good luck, and goodbye!"

Kohga gave him a mock salute as a goodbye, though Revali's squawking made sure he didn't hear him leave. Sooga looked down at Kohga, lightly scoffing.

"Those curtains were atrocious."

"He could've picked a better way to come out. Tbh it was more effective than catching him with a dick in his beak."

"Well put, Master Kogha."

He chuckled. He showed Sooga the little bottle, as if he was gloating.

“Plus side, I got myself a little present! You want a swig?”

“Polite pass. I don’t trust drinks that I haven’t seen made, unless made by you. But I must commend your sticky fingers.”

“Hey, you know how good I am with these fingers~. Anyhow, here’s hoping this fucks me up.”

He tossed his head back as he took it in one swig, before shaking his head furiously.

“Oh. Oh. EW. God, YOU make drinks better than this.”

“It must be awful, you hate my drinks.”

“Both statements are true. Ew. Ugh, take me home, I need this taste out of my mouth.”

“Would picking you up make the experience a bit sweeter?”

“Maybe, let’s test it out.”

Kohga grinned as Sooga grabbed his husband, and took him right home. Little did he know, a moment of bitterness, made for a VERY saucy Kohga.

--------------------------------------

Kohga grumbled under his sheets. It was rare, but every once under a blue moon, Kohga couldn’t sleep worth a shit. Tonight was one of those nights. He grumbled as he sat up, folding his arms over his chest.

“Not FAIR. I’m TIRED. What is the issue NOW?”

Kohga threw off the blankets, and saw that he had a bulge in his suit. His frustration melted away to amusement, and he chuckled.

“Ah. Was so grumpy, didn’t notice you there. Alright, alright.”

Kohga thought about bugging his snoozing Sooga, but the poor guy barely got enough sleep as it were. Besides, he needed a bit of self love, been a while. He squirmed out of his clothes, and after grabbing a bottle of lube, got himself nice and snug. He lathered up his hands, and grabbed at his cock, only to wince.

“Ooh, you are SENSITIVE tonight. Okay, easy does it. Easy.”

He got himself used to his touch, and eventually he was able to stroke himself. Unlike Sooga, he always preferred a quick, light pace in his handjob. Kohga tossed his head back, dying in satisfaction. Sure, he wanted to be asleep, but jerking himself off while Sooga rested right next to him? Was it ever sweet. It was surprisingly short lived however, as he found himself cumming way faster than usual. It was good, REAL good, but that was definitely record timing. He sighed, removing his cum soaked hand, and wiping it off on a rag.

“Hoo. That was good. Alright, sleep time.”

Kohga covered himself, and fell right to sleep, the end.

At least, that’s what SHOULD’VE happened. What DID happen was him sitting there, wide awake. He thought it was just his body getting that high from an orgasm, but he’d come to realize that as he sat there, his cock was throbbing, and BAD. It felt even worse this time, and Kohga muttered angrily. Fucking hell, he needed to cum again? So soon? This late? Dammit all.

“Alright. I get it. Round two, let’s go.”

Kohga buried his face in his pillow as yet again, started to pump his cock. It somehow felt even better this time around, and Kohga grumbled to himself, really going at it.

“Shit, okay, gonna be one of those nights apparently. Shit.”

Kohga was trapped in an endless cycle. He’d cum, try to sleep, cum, try to sleep. He reached his fifth orgasm, and his body was trembling something fierce. He was a horn dog, sure, but now he was insatiable. He didn’t want to wake Sooga up, poor guy barely ever slept, especially next to him, but Kohga needed him, and needed him now. He got up from his cum covered spot, and nudged Sooga a bit harshly.

“Sooga, Sooga get up!”

Sooga sprang up, quickly looking around the room.

“What is it?! Are we under attack?”

“No. Just, god shut the fuck up and let me fuck your face.”

Sooga was clearly NOT expecting that, especially so late at night. But he was never one to refuse Kohga. So he laid down on his back, and gave not a single qualm as Kohga held onto his hair, pulled his hair back, and shoved his cock right into his mouth. His Master was aggressive usually, but this was something different entirely. Kohga didn’t even mean to. He just couldn’t help but force himself into that pretty, hot mouth of his. Not once, not twice, but three times. Each time Sooga kept himself still (minus his legs, those pushed and squirmed till he pretty much kicked the sheets off), accepting loads after loads of his Master’s cum, each being bigger than the last. Kohga barely spoke, merely full of grunts and grumbles. Kohga pulled away, seeming to be sated, at least for a second. Sooga’s chest heaved under him, and his cheeks were flushed in embarrassment. He met Kohga’s eyes, and saw helpless, uncontrollable lust.

“M-master Kohga, you’re quite...energetic tonight.”

He paused mid sentence, forcing himself to swallow all that cum, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. He smeared it all over, making himself into quite the messy boy. Kohga took a deep breath, trying to recall just where his head was.

“I...yeah. Fuck you’re pretty like this. So pretty. You handle all that cum like a real champ.”

Sooga was about to thank his master Kohga, before he suddenly found his dick right back into his mouth. Sooga’s mouth loved such rough, desperate treatment, soaking Kohga’s dick in his drool. Another load, then another. Sooga thought he’d be tired, but he seemed to only fuck him with more fury as time went on. As Kohga forced more cum inside of his mouth, Sooga had to actually push him away, just to get some means of air. He coughed a bit, trying not to choke on his Master’s cum. While it was a treat, it was just SO much of it. Sooga swallowed again, shaking as the thick fluid sank right into his stomach.

“M-master Kohga, please, a breather, just for a moment-”

“I wanna ride your cock. I wanna cum on it so fucking hard, Sooga.”

“If...that is what is demanded of me-”

Kohga knelt down to kiss him, shoving his tongue in his mouth and licking at whatever cum he seemed to have left in that pretty, pretty mouth. Usually Kohga was far more grandiose in his approach, but there seemed to be no room for that tonight. It was just him slamming himself onto his cock, nearly making Sooga jump every time his ass slammed into him.

"M-Master Kohga, please slow down! I want to enjoy y-"

"I need your FUCKING cum. I need your pretty cum, right in my ass. Enjoy me later."

Sooga was unable to tame his master. He came on him once, twice, thrice. Each time was met with loads and loads of cum littering his chest and stomach. Kohga laid on top of him, sounding just absolutely exhausted. Sooga held onto his back, assuming this was the end of Kohga’s lust.

"You...god, you're insatiable. What number was that?"

Kohga hummed a bit in thought, before looking up at him.

"T...thirteen."

"Holy-master Kohga, are you ill?"

"Don't...know. I just know I can't sleep, and I know I want you SO fucking bad, Sooga."

"Not sure how much more of me you can HAVE Master Kohga…"

Sooga prided himself in being able to help his master, but this was...so much. His mouth was sticky with cum, his chest was soaked in sweat and cum- he hadn’t recalled the last time he was so absolutely filthy. Sooga was about to prompt Kohga to take a break, when Kohga seemed to spring back to life, cock even harder than he was a second ago.

"Get on your stomach. Let me fuck that cute ass of yours. I always liked seeing my cum leak out of you."

"Master Kohga, I'm honored you want me so, but I think all of this is healthy! Maybe you need a moment to collect yourself-"

Kohga held onto his face, kissing his big, beautiful face. He parted after just a moment, springs of hot cum connecting their open mouths. Kohga nearly shook as he wiped the cum from his lips.

"I NEED you Sooga. I'm aching something SO bad, don't make me suffer like this!"

Kohga sounded damn near to tears in his whining. Sooga couldn’t refuse his poor, desperate master. He rolled to his front, and Kohga was on his back almost immediately, rubbing his cock against that beautiful, plump ass of his. Sooga looked up as Kohga rested his chin on his shoulder, trying to find his thoughts. Despite his concerns, Sooga VERY much wanted him to keep going. Knowing his Master wanted him so hungrily, knowing he was getting cum in every part of him, made Sooga's cock terribly hard.

"J-just. Use me as you see fit, but be careful."

He was going to add more, but Kohga’s teeth aas on his ear, nearly making him melt. Kohga’s breath was hot in his ear, and it made a shiver run up his back.

"It's cute how you're worried about me. It's cute how you'll sit here and let me fucking use you. You look good in my cum. So good. Now, I love you, but stop FUCKING talking, and let me plow you like a goddamn field."

Sooga felt himself gulping at that oh so sensual voice of his. Sooga couldn’t stop that cock just pushing into his ass, even if he wanted to.

Which he absolutely didn't.

------------------------------

"So you and Sooga have one thing in common, apparently."

"We're both handsome?"

Revali had joined Kohga and Urbosa for brunch, and of course, Kohga wanted to start some shit.

"One, don't you touch my man. Two, no, you both make shitty drinks."

Revali cocked his head, clearly confused.

"I...didn't make you a drink, ever."

"Talkin about that little bottle. Tasted like ass. Actually worse, I've eaten ass."

"Little d-YOU took my anti rito down?!"

Kohga shrugged at the sudden anger from the random look of anger.

"Your….what?"

"My rito-its for my HEAT! Dear Hylia you DRANK it?"

"Yeah? Why?"

"It's supposed to help RITO with heat."

"And what does-oh. Oh. Oooooh that makes a LOT of sense. Huh."

"Is that why he's not here?"

"Oh it absolutely is. Dude can't walk."

There was a moment of silence, before Kohga loudly slumped his drink, sighing.

"I fucked him at LEAST thirty two times-"

"NO ONE ASKED."

“He did. Multiple times-”

“Why do I keep inviting you to things?”

#asks #kohga #sooga #lemon #revali #cummies for sooga time <3

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terreisa · 4 years

Text

Love Down the Line

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

AO3

~*CS*~

Storybrooke, Maine- April 8th

The buzzing phone on the table in front of Emma Swan was a distraction she didn’t need. There were a million and one things that needed to be done and only one month to do them before her tour started. She swiped to answer it without looking, too caught up in what she was doing to bother.

“Yeah?” She asked impatiently, absently brushing the tendrils of her long blonde hair out of her face.

“I have good news and I have shit news.”

Emma sighed, albeit quietly. It was Ruby, one of her closest friends and the rhythm guitarist for her backing band who also had a flair for the dramatic. She only hoped that whatever it was Ruby was calling about wouldn’t turn into a two hour conversation over something they could easily discuss when she didn’t have time sensitive decisions to make. Preferably in a month when they were finally on the tour bus and had nothing but time to kill between cities.

“If it’s about going on that second date with Dorothy that I already talked you into once can it wait? I’m trying to finalize this set list so I can send it to Regina so she can send it to the lighting guys and the sound guys and we can stop fucking around at rehearsals and get things going almost smoothly.”

“Um, yeah… I mean, it’s not entirely about my date with Dorothy,” Ruby said with what sounded like trepidation.

Suspicion and dread immediately filled Emma’s veins. Ruby was anything but hesitant when it came to sharing information. She’d once announced at a club they were playing that she was on her period and would only accept phone numbers that were written on the outside wrapper of a chocolate bar. By the time they made it back to their motel she had a mound of candy that would have made Augustus Gloop jealous.

“What’s the good news?”

“Nah, you’ll want the shitty news first,” Ruby hummed with a grin in her voice, her confidence restored.

She groaned, “When have I ever wanted the shitty news first?”

“Never, but this time the good news won’t make sense without it-” Ruby took in a deep breath, loud enough for Emma to hear over the connection and it set her back on edge. “Okay, so I was on that second date with Dorothy and it was going great. Like, really great. She’s amazing and funny and surprising. We went to a paintball place. Paintball, me!”

“Ruby-”

“And it was actually fun. You know I’m more of a heels and cocktails kinda gal but I was getting into it-”

“Ruby-”

“Something about the adrenaline maybe or possibly the weird power trip of having a fake weapon to stalk your prey. Though that makes me sound like I’m about to go play the most dangerous game or something-”

“RUBY! The shitty news!”

“Oh, right,” Ruby had the decency to sound abashed but it did nothing to alleviate the pounding that had started in Emma’s head. “So paintball, fun and exciting and I may have broken my arm.”

Emma suddenly felt faint, “What?”

“In two places,” Ruby continued, sounding almost proud of herself. “Plus there’s some stitches and a bunch of Bandaids involved but you probably don’t care about those.”

“How long?” She winced at her harsh question, knowing she sounded uncaring. She backtracked, “No, fuck, wait, are you okay? That should have been my first question.”

Ruby laughed, “Don’t worry, after all these years I know where your priorities lie. I’m fine, they’ve got me on the good stuff here.”

“Wait, are you still at the hospital?” Emma stood up, ready to jump into whatever action was needed.

“Yup, they’ve still got to set the bones and wrap it up like the world’s worst present but like I said: the good stuff.”

“Alright, I’m on my way,” Emma dashed to her room and frantically tried to find a matching pair of shoes in the piles of crap strewn across the floor. “Do you need anything? A change of clothes? Are they keeping you there overnight? Want me to stop by Granny’s? Should I call Granny?”

“Whoa, Emma, slow down,” Ruby said, laughing again. “Dorothy called Granny when we were on our way to the hospital. She’s already here and glaring at anyone in a white coat that walks by my little curtained area. It should only be an hour or so then it’s home to rest. You can come over with pizza and I’ll bore you to death then with all the little details of my date.”

“Okay,” she breathed, dropping down onto her bed with a tennis shoe in one hand. “Pizza. I can do that.”

“Good. It’s six weeks by the way,” Ruby said offhandedly.

“Six weeks,” she repeated, confused by the non-sequitur.

“Recovery time. At least six weeks.”

The shoe dropped out of her hand, “Six weeks.”

“And then a few weeks of physical therapy,” Ruby continued. “So, more like two months give or take.”

“Ruby,” she said weakly. “The tour starts in a month. There’s no time to audition a replacement and have them learn the songs and what if they don’t get along with us or, fuck, what if they have a massive ego or-”

“Emma, stop.” Ruby said calmly. “This is where the good news comes in.”

“Good news? How can there be good news?”

“I told you there would be,” Ruby tsked, “Here it is. I already have a replacement ready! He knows most of the songs you’ve been picking, has a shit ton of experience on the road and playing the type of venues we’ve got booked, and best of all he’s available to start as soon as you tell me yes.”

Ruby’s words had started to slow but her excitement was still palpable. Emma on the other hand felt nothing but dread settling in her stomach. Ever since she’d started doing the music thing seriously Ruby had been a part of the band playing behind her. The seedy bars with tiny stages, the slightly better clubs with slightly worse sound systems, the places that could actually be called venues that held more than a hundred people and then bigger and bigger until she was finally selling out places that easily sat four or five thousand people. She’d been there for everything, had seen everything, knew everything and her not being able to be there for any part of it was starting to cause Emma’s vision to go slightly grey at the edges.

“I need to call Regina,” she gasped, trying to draw in a deep breath, “We can cancel the first few weeks or reschedule them.”

“Emma-”

“I’ll say I have bronchitis or those polyp things on my vocal chords. Or I can do the shows acoustic-”

“Emma, if you’d just-

“But then I’ll have to figure out how to pay Will and Tink-”

“Or you could just give this guy a chance, maybe?” Ruby said sharply and a bit pointedly. “I’m not letting you sabotage the biggest fucking thing to happen to you because I can’t play for a few weeks. The fans don’t care who’s in the backing band, they’re paying to see you.”

“Then they won’t mind an acoustic show, will they?” Emma snapped back.

“No, but it’s also not what you’ve been teasing on Instagram for the past few months. Not to mention all the techies and roadies that have already been hired that will be fired because they’ll be deemed unnecessary. Plus isn’t it in your contract with the label that any major changes to the tour had to be approved by them? I can tell you right now they won’t approve of anything this close to the start date.”

Emma hated that Ruby was right but couldn’t help one last argument, “And replacing you with some rando off the street isn’t a major change?”

“First off: the label cares even less about who’s in the backing band then the fans do. As long as we make you sound good and don’t upstage you they’re happy,” Ruby said flippantly. “Second: Jones isn’t some rando, he’s actually a session guitarist and has played on a few songs on your last two albums. Third: This is your best option and you know it.”

“I don’t know it,” she grumbled, “He could still be a problem, you know, personality wise or whatever.”

“Okay, sure,” Ruby conceded, “but you won’t know unless you give him a chance. So will you? Give him a chance?”

“Ugh, fine, but if he sucks I’m definitely writing a song called ‘I fucking told you so’.”

“And if he doesn’t I get to write it and you’ll have to play the terrible result at the final show,” Ruby said gleefully.

“I hate you,” Emma sighed, falling back so she was laying across the width of her bed.

“No you don’t,” Ruby paused and Emma could hear murmuring in the background. “Hey, the doctor’s back and they’re ready to get my bones a crackin’. You can complain about it more tonight. Meat lovers supreme, extra large, and bring those cinnamon sticky things too!”

Ruby hung up before Emma could utter a sound. She chuckled to herself before the reality of the situation sunk back in. For Ruby’s sake she’d give the Jones guy a chance but she had little faith that it would work out as easily as Ruby had made it sound. Nothing had ever worked out easily for her before, no use in getting her hopes up again.

#captain swan #captain swan fanfiction #ouat ff #cs ff #my writing

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crybabytoy59 · 4 years

Text

My Begging letter PT8.

After they fell asleep I slept on and off suffering in the bondage position they had left me in, During the night sometime around 4am I was woken by light shocks that were growing in strength not enough to make me cry out just hard enough to have me whimpering, unbeknownst to me they were both up naked, Mistress Mummy was hanging up the remainder of the urine from the water fountain that she had put into a bag then sat it in the sink with boiling water to heat it up, this would add an element of Deeply bitter taste every time The new Slave swallowed it down unfortunately for Babyslave Mistress Mummy had woken feeling Not only Very Dominant But extremely Dirty....As she pushed the Tee peace to the neck of the bag with the sprung loaded valves this allowed for a second liquid to be lifted by the first fluid passing the valve, All she needed to do was prime the valve with a syringe 💉as she hung up the bag she pushed the second tube from the rebreather box on the floor pulling on the large syringe she watched Smiling as the wee ball in the clear valve port spun around rapidly pulling the discoloured liquid from the box up to meet the valve, Then pushing the syringe backwards until the tube from the box was 3/4 of the way discoloured & the last 1/4 was stale urine, pulling the syringe away she felt the growing heat between her legs.

At that point Master Daddy had returned with a bag full of ice in a bucket putting it down by Babyslave he softly whispered “Ready Sweetheart?”...

“Fuck yes Darling time to up the pace for Babyslave”

She took away the mask from sissy’s face closing the valve to prevent any smell, then lifting the cock dummy gag this to had holes fro the rubber throat ties to fix it in Babyslave’s mouth. She patted sissy’s chin, then pushed it lightly down..Babyslave Opened Widely ! Sissy was learning, she fed the cock dummy feeder down the rubber laces until the foam ring slipped behind Babyslave’s teeth, as she did Master Daddy pulled the over head belt tightly again making Babyslave bite down on the foam ring sealing the mouth shut !

Next he fitted the rubber bag to the rubber Oring around sissy’s neck making a seal. Mistress Mummy giggled lightly as the wheel on the valve started turning & whimpering came from the hood, Hot urine now passing out all the holes in the cock dummy Babyslave would know it had been heated up as it was over body urine temperature. Inside the hood they could here Swallowing as each time sissy swallowed the dummy would simply refilled from the bag...but worse still Mistress Mummy watched as the discoloured fluid went further up the tube, in a few minutes Babyslave would get her first taste of the new mix...

She nodded to her husband who emptied the ice into the rubber bag surrounding Babyslave’s headie..He closed the rubber seal on top only the tube protruded from the rubber bag a large hole at the top let air in the space between the ice bag & sissy’s face at the front the only place the bag had no contact with the inner hood.

They kissed each other & went back to bed for a couple of hours as they wanted a 7am start as Mistress Dee was arriving at 9am & all had to be prepared for her playtime !

As they worked on me in silence I found this part terrible as when they spoke I got a strange comfort from it even though they were being Wicked & Dominant....But this ? I could only await my fate...that’s when I felt her soft finger tapping my chin then push it lightly down...she wanted my mouth open, the pressure from the strap over my head had released, so I opened Wide to please her, I jumped in the bondage as the 4” cock Dummy was fed into my mouth as it went quite far back but it also had something at its end ? She forced this part past my teeth till it seal my mouth open around the plastic guard on the outside I knew it was attached to something as it kept moving for a short time then I felt it get hot as suddenly stale urine filled my Mouth! But it was way too hot to be fresh, Tears now starting Again as I resigned myself to drinking there “Golden nectar” Wondering why it did not make me feel sick ? Or even nauseous? It was just simply horrible that was all....

Then suddenly something crashed around my head then tightly pulled its self against my hood all but the front were my face was.... slowly my head got cooler I found the swallowing became a task as my tiredness coupled with my cooling head making thoughts hard to focus....my lullaby I’m my ear buds sounding louder & more emotive, smack ! Wwaaaa’wwaaaaWwaaaa .... Smack !! Wwaaaah’Wwaaah !my head felt different but I was too busy Swallowing. Slowly my head started to get cold so much so my lullaby in the ear bud was making me cry...just the sound of it made me want to Cry...

The next hour was spent Very uncomfortable & by the time I felt them removing the head wrapping & hood I was genuinely glad to be able to see them....

Looking closer at the mirrors in front of me They we’re both dressed in rubber suits...This made me nervous....as they both set about putting the equipment away, the frame in-front of me was removed then Master Daddy set about unlacing the bondage pants, as they came loose I was suddenly aware how much the I had wetdiring the night, but my rear felt strange tingling as the bondage was undone every part of my body aching as I swallowed the Now fowl liquid down mouthful after mouthful pashhed down into my tummy I was feeling very full now, slumping in the last of the ropes Mistress Mummy spanked my sore thigh Thwack! “On your Knees Crybaby Sweetheart We have much to get done so We Want Complete Obedient behaviour this morning Madam !....Now Gulp Nice & fast until I says Stop Cutenesses!”

Still disoriented from the ice freezing & tiredness I started the first of my tears rolling down my cheeks....as I took big gulps of the horrible liquid formula forcing my tummy to fill even fuller ! This seemed to please them no end as Master Daddy undid the armbinder he patted my black leather rear to a dull thudding “Ok Crybaby Sweetheart All fours & follow us (he was putting the pink dog collar on me over the posture collar clipping the leash to that he tugged it up hard) Heal Crybaby !”

I pushed my hood tightly to his leg whimpered then moved forwards with him in time with his steps...”Clever girlie Crybaby that’s the way, Look Mistress Mummy someone’s Very Obedient this morning.....(she giggled) But Am guessing we Will have to see how this morning goes won’t we Crybaby?” I nodded my hood covered head as best I could given the posture collar !

Mistress Mummy pushed the box along side me the feed bag was now half empty swinging obscenely back & forth as we went to the white room, inside they removed the Special leather pants then the Nappy & my maids uniform the Nappy was put into a bucket, then Mistress Mummy remover all the sticky pads. I was so very relieved by this as the shocker therapy was Very unpleasant.

I was made to stand up & hold the over head bar so they could again wash me as I did Mistress Mummy removed the feed gag, as Master Daddy took off my hood, I could now hear properly with the ear plugs out.

Mistress Mummy spoke to me “Clever girlie Crybaby look at You !!! (She giggled as she put the water on I squealed!!) Hush Hush Crybaby Sweetheart we’re only going to wash Babyslave” I squealed due to the sudden sting from my rear as Master Daddy’s “Special Nappy” had worked it’s magic My rear was Red all Over an angry rash that would make any punishment Very painful !!! This was there intention all along as they had Plans for today that would make yesterday seem tame !!!!!....

Mistress Mummy rubbed my rear “Open Wide Crybaby Sweetheart (she forced something wet into my cheeks Deeply) Clever Baby That Keep our girlie Quiet”

She had fed me the pad from yesterday afternoon that had Master Daddy’s seed on it But it was now wet with hot urine !...relaxing now as they both washed me like the day before Very tender the warm urine from my catheter running down my leg she simply plugged it shut for now, smiling at me as the smell of the strawberry soap filled the air, after my shower drying off had me whimsical due to the rash as it was Very sensitive to the touch.

Mistress Mummy opened a bottle of Baby oil then started putting it on my head to toe my whole body glistening in the bright lights.....

“Clever girlie Crybaby that’s You all ready to Play with Mistress Dee so let’s get you into the play room Crybaby !”...

I was Again led by my leash on all fours to the hidden door...as Master Daddy opened it I could see two figures inside dressed in red rubber catsuit’s Mistress Dee...But the other I didn’t recognise she was around five foot 4” heavy built with a Very muscular body she looked around her middle thirty’s But this was not what had me looking at her it was the huge green bag she was next to hung from the ceiling ! With a tube from it that had a double balloon retention enema tube from it with a strange steel base to it ?

They all kissed each other ignoring me.....Mistress Mummy turned to me unfastened my collar & lead....”Now Crybaby Sweetheart You Will Do what You Are Told when You Are Told do I make myself Clear? (I nodded) Clever girlie Crybaby Don’t have us come back in until the girls are Done or there Will be Very serious Implications Crybaby !!!”....They Both simply left the room..

I had not been alone without them both until now & this made me ever more scared as Even although they were Very WKD I had come to feel close to them,but this was different two new Dominant’s I had only met Mistress Dee to have my colonic, as she stepped forward kneeling to cup my chin she spoke..

“Clever girlie Crybaby You just be Obedient & All will be fine.....Now this is Mistress Carla she is my partner You Baby Will Obey Her Ever Word First Time or things will get Very unpleasant for You Pain Toy !....Now crawl to the frame Time to get started Crybaby !!”....Mistress Carla was at the frame opening the neck hoop for me to put my head in, as I straddled the tummy bar Mistress Dee guided my ankles into the waiting rings cold metal shutting around my ankles I knew there was now No escape...prone on the floor in the framework they cuffed my wrists into the rings under my shoulders Mistress Carla without a word pushed the first balloon Deep inside me then inflated it fully, next she inflated the outer balloon sealing my fate...

The metal part was for my cage this she pulled back clipping the two together she then ran a tube to my catheter! Any pee would now go up my rear !!

Opening the valve green fluid flowed into me....she spoke as Mistress Dee got a special hood ready for me....”Crybaby Sweetheart this is a special mix that’s going to help make Baby Very emotional Mummy & Daddy Tell us your quiet the Crybaby But this Sweetheart is a whole different level we are going to really enjoy messing with your headie Crybaby!!” At that she rubbed my sore bottom “Shall we Spank Crybaby Mistress Dee to start her off ?”......Mistress Dee was kneeling at my face “what a great idea Mistress Carla...Open Wide Crybaby Sweetheart (she took out the wet wad giggling) Look Mistress Carla (she held up the cum & piss smoked rag !) Crybaby has been having fun, haven’t You Crybaby? (Wess Mistress Dee) Clever Baby Stay Open Wide!”

She lifted my lower mouth guard pushing it onto my lower teeth firmly, next she lifted my upper guard pushing that in place also Mistress Carla handed her a long waxed looking strip ? This she fed into my cheek pushing firmly pushing so they were wedged behind the guards forcing my mouth to stay Open WIDE ! Mistress Carla handed her a second strip as she did the same with this long wax strip she spoke to me my open further & Fuller “Crybaby Sweetheart this one is from me the first one is from Mistress Carla say thank you Babyslave !”.....as I did Mistress Carla put a bowl underneath my chin.....looking me right in the eyes “Clever girlie Crybaby that’s to catch the liquid at this end Sweetheart!!!!!...

My eyes suddenly bulging at her comments....They could not be serious right ? I mean it could not go all the way through Me...Could it ??......just as that thought hit me so did something else ! The wax strips weren’t wax, they had both spent weeks preparing them for using on me today, they had been toilet wipes over & over until they were so soiled they had become waxed then they had dried them out before starting Over! Tears ran from me now as I realised what Mistress Mummy had told me was true Today was to be Far Far Worse than yesterday’s harsh treatment.....

Mistress Dee rubbed my Tummy “Let’s work this In much Deeper Crybaby Sweetheart......Aaawwww Look Mistress Carla there she is there’s CRYBABY!...spank her Mistress Carla!!” The spanking was not to harshly given by Mistress Carla it did have me whimpering but as the heat grew from this my tummy started making loud noises as small cramps started Mistress Dee lifted a corset putting it around my waist clipping the clasping together she spoke Mistress Carla had stopped spanking me to join her..”Crybaby Sweetheart Your Very Full but given that your pluggie tube won’t be letting anything out of you back there am guessing our Babyslave understands what coming next cutenesses” she started lacing up the corset ! Mistress Carla came to my face “No Crying won’t stop us cutenesses as we want to see our Babyslave in Tears ! So am going to spank you now ..But Crybaby not like before...No am going to spank you Very Hard & Painfully Then cutenesses we are going to take turns flogging that Cute botty....am sure we can find all manner of things to make sure Crybaby can’t sit for Days !!!”

She went behind me & The spankings started heavyweight blows that had me Crying openly in moments....But as Mistress Dee did up the last of the corset a big cramp came..suddenly I felt fluid pass from me as I went to squeal !

They both clapped as the enema fluid ran out of my MOUTH !!!!!!....As the cramping came more fluid flowed over my face into the bowl, tears mixing with the fluid As the room echoed with the sound of My spankings, at first by hand then a flogger a huge heavyweight one ! Next came a belt..they both took time between each stroke until my Struggling stopped before administration of the next painful spank, Last was a robber hoop This really hurt ! So much so Mistress Carla stopped it as Mistress Dee knelt Down at my head..”Come here You noisy girlie Crybaby”

She pushed the new mask over my face as it approached me I could see it had a cock gag the balls were on the outer side ow as hollow ! I wrenched as she pushed it down my throat more fluid poured from me out it’s balls ! As she pulled the rubber taught, pushing the cone ovals up my nose ! The mask had eye holes quite large so they could still see me crying for them...on the outside of the nose cones were two long tear drop shaped plastic ovals with clear tubing from them around 3ft long thir tube she set to a small jar with what looked like a plastic round accordion bellow ?...she then looked up at Mistress Carla “All Ready Darling please continue...Baby is in shush Need of Training”

The next whip from the rubber loop was given with such force I screamed for allI was worth rigging in the bondage framework.But only a dull sound came from me...”Clever girlie Crybaby that’s much better now Pain Toy !”...

Just as it subsided Mistress Mummy walked into the room with a tray, this had two glasses of wine and strawberries & cream....she completely ignored my plight putting the tray Dow she spoke to the girls..”How is she behaving girls ?”

Mistress Dee was first to talk “Not too bad Mistress Mummy...although I have just had to gag her with the cock gag but I used my new mask as you can see so she will realise shortly she should have Not been so noisy !”....Mistress Mummy gigged at her comment turning to look at the mask she knelt Down to look at the severe looking mask, again completely ignored my begging eyes & sobbing....just then Mistress Carla spoke to her “Mistress Mummy why don’t you stay there & have Crybaby look at you as I put her to sleep for a short nap ?”

Yes wonderful idea Mistress Carla.....”Crybaby Sweetheart Look at Mummy...Keep looking at me ..No Matter What.. Ok Baby? (Ga’Ga) Clever Baby..Now !” She lifted a small fork hit it off her hand then held it to my ear...

Wwwwaaaa, Wwwwwwwaaaaa, wwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaa. WWWWaaaaaa.

I started Crying out like a real Baby it could be heard even past the cock gag !

I was imitating the lullaby !!! It must have been some sort of hypothesis & the fork was the key seed !

Mistress Carla raised her arm high in the air gave a grunt pulling Down sharply!

At number seven everything went Dark as I passed out to clapping in my ears fading into the distance......

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gretchensinister · 3 years

Note

I too am curious about 3, combined with 5? also 15 and this might be a nightmare question but, 22 for DoL

3: Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them?

5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

Okay so. The WIPs. 1. The farthest along is the college students in a cabin being killed by a monster story, which I wrote for a Pitch Black Halloween event a couple years ago and now I am editing to publish as its own novel. I’m actually at the last scene! Unfortunately I also need to rewrite the last scene because the current last scene basically introduces two new characters and I think that damages the effect I’m going for with the story overall. It’s a story with a small cast and very few extras and closing on strangers adds distance between reader and story which I don’t want.

2. Then there’s my Phantom of the Opera fic, which yes it has been maybe a year since I worked on it, but I really want to finish it and put it into the world. I just thought it would be shorter, since I repeatedly said to @marypsue, “I’m not going to rewrite the Phantom of the Opera”…cut to card saying “Gretchen rewrites the Phantom of the Opera.”

3. There’s the fic I was working on for Dead Dove Day. I wanted to write some smut with a completely blank slate being introduced to sex by someone with tons of experience (which apparently now gets a frowny face put in one’s file) and also every character has dual genitalia (I’m still waiting for the paperwork to come back about whether I’m allowed to fantasize about that or not, and then of course there’s all the other forms to determine if I’m allowed to encourage other people to also fantasize about this). The smut is done unless I add another scene at the end but it developed a plot so I’m trying to resolve that.

4. There’s some simple! classic! blacksand! that won’t resolve for some reason and makes me feel like I lost the ability to write. I know this isn’t true but it’s like…I need to be writing this in class or something. I need to be getting away with it.

5. Last, there’s blackgeneral which I have put in a human AU and made even worse! But if you’ve never written something where you wonder at least a little bit if it would fail the Miller Test, have you even lived?

Now for some samples, in the order in which they were mentioned (lmao this got long):

1. “Did you see that, did you see that?”

“What was that?”

“Yeah, I saw it but—”

“It was tall, it was tall, it was a bear!”

“No, it was skinny! It couldn’t have been a bear!”

“And anyway, it was fucking gray!”

“Okay, okay,” Gabe said when things had quieted down a little. “Everything looks kind of gray in this light.”

“I’m not really concerned with its color!” Sugar said.

Kelly had stood up in all the commotion and now moved behind Gabe, resting her hands on his shoulders. She hadn’t liked the look of that thing in the woods, but now Gabe was pointing his flashlight down into the lake, and that was actually worse for her.

“Shine your light at it again,” Sandy said. “We’ll either frighten it away or get a better idea of what it is.”

They waited tensely as Gabe swept the trail again, revealing nothing.

“I don’t know if anyone else is thinking this,” Minnu said, “but I thought…I thought it kind of looked like a guy.”

“Yeah,” Gabe said, after a moment. “Yeah, it kind of did.”

“That kind of seems worse,” Sugar said.

“True,” Sandy said. “So, what should we do? I vote for going back to the cabin.”

“And I think we should go without our phone lights or flashlights,” said Sugar. “If that was a guy, he could have a gun.”

“The person that was found dead wasn’t killed by any gun,” Kelly said after a short pause.

“Well, this could be someone entirely different,” Sugar said. “It’s not like there’s a rule, only one thing that can kill you in the forest at a time. In fact, it’s pretty much the opposite of that.”

“Guys, guys,” Sandy said. “I know this isn’t the most normal thing to say, but…are we really sure that that thing looked like a…well, a human guy?”

2. She screams. She screams her sorrow and her rage, and her rage is at the way of the world but also at herself; why had she been a coward? All she had done was seen, and she had still frozen in fear? All she had were her hands, but should she not have used them? She should have flown forward and strangled the man! But she had only frozen, frozen and silently watched, as if she was nothing more than the ornament she was supposed to be.

“You will hurt yourself, screaming like that,” a voice says, then.

No one else is in the chapel with her. She checked many times in succession before closing the door. The voice is that of no one. A ghost.

But the abruptness reminds her of Mme. Giry as she instructs the corps de ballet on form. You will hurt yourself, bending like that.

But since no one is here, she responds as if she is alone. “No one ever taught me how to properly scream.” As she says this, she can feel the rawness of her throat. It hardly matters, she has no solos approaching, and probably never will.

“Do you want to learn?” the voice asks. “I could teach you.”

“What would be the point? No one wants me to scream.”

“No one wants me to do anything,” the voice says. “But I know how to do many things.”

The shape of her mouth flickers towards a smile. The concept is oddly enticing: to build a skill that no one wants. And this voice, that is oddly enticing, too. It reminds her of the heavy velvet that she’d noticed in the costume shop one day, brushed to a shimmering dark red like a fire behind smoked glass. The soft weight of it had been a glory in her hands that sent a strange shiver all down her spine.

And just as she knows that velvet doesn’t grow on trees, she knows that this wonderful voice didn’t come naturally, either. A lot of work went into its creation, and right now, she is the only one being given that beauty. That’s enticing, too.

It seems she’s taken too long to respond, for the voice speaks again. “I could teach you how to sing as well as scream. I’ve heard you sing on your own before, away from the chorus. You could be the greatest soprano the opera has ever heard.”

“Singing is something they want,” she says. “And you say…the greatest. Do you think I could be sublime, as a soprano?”

“Sublime,” the voice muses, and the slow word makes her shiver again. “I have met few who truly desire to be sublime.”

“I do.”

This time it is the voice that takes a long time to respond. “I believe you,” it finally says, sounding curious, and a little sad. “Yet I do not fully understand you. Perhaps I will if I teach you. And I can. I have far more experience with sublimity than with beauty.”

“Your voice is beautiful,” she says tentatively, “at least it is as you speak to me. But I hear in it something that tells me you can easily transcend with it to the sublime. I only wish to say, from hearing you, I would guess you had experience with both.”

“You do not know what you say,” the voice replies, with control so careful she cannot be sure what it conceals, “but that is all very well. You will have a voice with sublimity waiting behind its beauty, this I swear. Sublimity will be yours to hold to heel or to unleash, and when you do—”

“Yes,” she interrupts. “What then?”

She can hear a smile in the voice now, at her eagerness. “At the very least,” the voice says, “you’ll be able to shatter glass.”

She smiles too, imagining. “Every globe in the chandelier, from the stage.” It is a reckless wish, and a thoughtless one—she does not really want to rain glass down upon the audience, or if they were not there, to make the cleaning-women sweep up thousands of razor-sharp shards. But if she could, oh, it’s an uncanny thing to do. Not a pretty thing.

“If you have the will, I will show you the way,” says the voice. “If you agree, will you tell me your name?”

“Yes, and yes,” she says. “And my name is Christine Daae. But what is yours?”

“I am the ghost,” he says.

3. The Pitch held Sandy close with one arm while their other hand flowed down Sandy’s body, slow and sweet like honey. They bent to kiss Sandy’s mouth as they fondled their full breasts. And it wasn’t—it wasn’t as if the Pitch spent a long time at the stiff points of Sandy’s nipples. They were too sensitive for that right now, the line between pleasure and pain too thin. But they did touch, and the touch of their inhumanly long fingers felt somehow both reverent and barely restrained. Sandy knew this could only be their projection onto such a new Pitch, but knowing didn’t make the feeling go away. It didn’t stop them from going half-mad with it, their cunt getting wetter and their cock getting harder, barely a breath away from begging the Pitch to pinch them, hard, to fall over the line of pain to see if there was pleasure on the other side.

But that was part of a different lesson, and not something every owner wanted their Pitch to learn. Sandy wasn’t quite sure it was what they wanted, either, except that it would be more sensation and more was what they wanted from the Pitch.

But of course the Pitch could give more, and of course they would give more. That was what they were for.

The Pitch caressed their belly luxuriantly, their speeding breath and some soft sounds muffled by their mouth on Sandy’s proclaiming their absolute delight in every curve of Sandy’s very ordinary body. And again it felt like real desire, as if the Pitch had forgotten that the point of their actions was to arouse Sandy. As if it was assured, as if there was a long understanding of mutuality between them, as if indulging themselves with Sandy was something they knew Sandy would enjoy.

As for the last, with Sandy, they were right. Every greedy touch of the Pitch’s hands was a gift, a drug.

A drug that opened the mind to some dangerous ideas. Pitches are made for pleasure. If I could choose a pleasure construct I’d choose a Pitch. I’d choose this Pitch. Precocious Pitch and I wonder, I wonder if in a different world where Pitches are what the born look like, if this Pitch would commission a Sandy if they could. It should have been unthinkable. But pleasure constructs were also made to make the unthinkable possible.

So obedient, and they come with their own built-in taboos for you to think about breaking!

4. Conversation is all right, Sandy said. If you can find someone to do it with. But there are things I like better. He looked up at Pitch. Things I think you might like better, too.

“Is that so? You know something good enough to make me be good?”

Sandy grinned, now, and Pitch—Pitch absolutely felt his heart beat faster, though it was getting harder now to say that this was out of panic or even simple fear.

I don’t know if it’s that powerful, but I’d be happy to give it a try, Sandy said. What do you think?

What did Pitch think? He felt like somehow he’d been herded through a great number of corridors in his mind and now he had reached a dead end. Or—not exactly a dead end. It was just that all the doors around him were ones he had locked tightly, and he had tried to forget that he still had the keys. It was the Sandy wing of his mind, and now the real Sandy was blocking him from leaving the corridor the way he came, and spinning a key ring around his little golden finger. If Sandy unlocked any of those doors, then he’d see…he’d see…

Maybe…Sandy would see something he…liked?

“Try me,” Pitch said, giving the words an unsuitable earnestness.

5. Porcelain skin and blue-black hair from their mother. Sharp angular faces, proud aquiline noses, and bones that promised height from their father. And yet their mother’s influence performed alchemy on these traits, somehow making them gracile, proving that on those infinitesimal spiral staircases of fate, she would always have the higher ground. Their lips might be thinner than hers, but they were still perfectly formed to bring to mind sensuality, even from this young age. They might be forbidden cosmetics, but the lashes she gave them were long and thick enough that no one who saw them would be able to stop themselves from wondering. And their eyes, of course, were hers, that exquisitely rare and exotic topaz had completely overshadowed their father’s pure northern blue. There was just enough of their father in their looks that they could be no one else’s sons, but the rest of their looks whispered this open secret: Though he was powerful enough to wed and bring to childbed the most beautiful woman within a thousand miles, claiming such beauty meant that he would never have a son quite in his image. That single, perfect, impregnable vessel of immortality for himself was nothing but a ghost. What he had, after having everything else, was this uncanny pair. Warped reflections of their mother, warped reflections of their father.

And perfect reflections of each other.

15: Which fic that you’ve written relates to you and your personal life the most?

A Draught of Light. I was working through a lot of stuff in that fic and while writing it, I’m not done working out everything I was working out in that fic, and bizarrely it seems to continue to become more relatable to me as years pass, even through situations I could not have possibly have foreseen. But also Speak Oil Into My Ear is very near and dear to me because of how much of Austin, TX I put into it, and that’s where I was living when I wrote it.

22: Have you used any symbolism in A Draught of Light? What does it represent?

You mentioned this might be a nightmare question and I guess it kind of is, because DoL is like…not subtle in any way. That’s just how it is. Any symbolism is baked into the magic system because it’s how magic works—if a light adept can figure out how to understand what they’re doing as related to illuminating/revealing/opening etc., then they can do it with light. If a shadow adept can understand a working as related to concealing/vanishing/hiding etc., then they can do it with shadow. Fire is change, water is healing/restoration. The ending doesn’t go full allegory but like. For those who are familiar it’s very obvious why I would think of this story more around Easter than around the autumn equinox, when it’s actually set.

But! Story time! When this story started, it was partially due to three factors: a kinkmeme prompt that I wasn’t sure if my idea actually addressed, a round pool at the apartment complex I lived in at the time, and a dream I had where I was standing in this underground circular stone chamber, and I clapped my hands and water began flowing from them, and (here’s the symbolism) in the dream I knew that the water represented forgiveness. (Though that’s not really what it means in DoL.

#tejoxys

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purplehairedwonder · 4 years

Text

Inside a Broken Dream Chapter 1

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen Words: 3636 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Shachi, Bepo, Penguin, Heart Pirates, Donquixote Doflamingo Note: Story title comes from the Vertical Horizon song "Shackled." Character and relationship tags reflect the current chapter. Obviously this is canon-divergent ;)

Summary: Two years after Wano, peace on the Grand Line is fragile. Trafalgar Law and the Heart Pirates are doing their best to help maintain the peace, but the return of a figure from Law's past might shatter the balance of power entirely.