#until our other cat gets pregnant and gives birth to her own children

[an1muuarts]

dude my cat has lived through various diseases, currently has unborn children in her, and shes still fuckin alive at 14 yrs old

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 00

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Masterlist

…

On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989. 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargeeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got seven of them, yes seven.

..

MARCH 21, 2019

I have to be at least somewhat proud of myself for lasting this long. I thought as I sat on the bus, not everyday you are born with magical powers and are destined to save the world from evil. Yes, hearing myself think that sounds crazy. But that's normal in my life.

I had reached my stop after a half an hour of sitting with my earbuds in, listening to nothing at all. I just wanted to seem unapproachable on the sketchy city bus.

My destination was a terribly designed office building, the space was so crammed and ugly it made me want to turn right back around and get on that bus again. But I didn't because I was trying to convince myself that this would be good for me, but I didn't believe my words.

I was about to have a therapy session with some middle-aged white lady who has glasses and tell her all of my life issues, starting every week at 5pm..

It's not like I had anything else going on, I haven't had work for days now. So I thought I'd give it a shot.

The waiting process made me anxious as hell, I finally got the courage to walk up to the front desk and gave the man who sat there my name. And now I have to wait for this lady to get done with some other patient.

I sat on a chair and frowned, like she is really going to be focused on "my" problems and not the 30 other people she sees today.

I swear it was only a second into me zoning out when I heard my name yelled. "Y/n L/n? It's so nice to meet you!" A woman said, when i looked up at her i saw the exact lady i was describing earlier to the closest details.

I let her lead me to a smaller room that looked way better than the lobby. It had two chairs, a water machine, some fidget items and a large window view of the city. Gloria, I learn to be the name of my therapist, asks me to sit with her.

She clears her throat, "I know this is our first session so you may not be the most comfortable sharing details. But I'd like to know a little bit about you if you're okay sharing."

“Well, I’m 29 years old and a home care nurse.” I say slowly. Hearing the words leave my mouth I knew I haven’t amounted to a lot in my years.

"Oh wow, 29? I would've never guessed that Y/n, you don't look a day over 21" Gloria complimented me i give her a tiny smile in return.

I'm not sure why that is, I get that a lot in my working field. Older women saying that they wished they looked as young as me.

"That's a great start for today's session." She smiles, "A little bit me is, you know my name already but I'm 56 years old since Monday. I have 3 children and a cat named Mr. Furball."

I regret what i said earlier because I think I already like Gloria and not just because of Mr. Furball. But the fact that she has a calming sense about her. I find myself listening to what she's saying, and I rarely do that with people nowadays.

"But I would like to hear more about your upbringing, how’d you become the fine young lady you are today?" She says.

Oh, she wants to hear about my childhood. I mean I knew she would ask but so soon, I'm worried about saying anything. So I told her that.

"I'm worried about opening up to someone about my past cause well I've never done it before." I said.

She hands me a cup of water. "That's okay Y/n, we can take it at your pace."

“I grew up in a small house with my mom and dad until I was twelve. When I was scouted by Reginald Hargreeves because of my unique abilities. And I've been there ever since I was 18 when I moved out to live on my own.” I waited for the burst of confusion I was about to get from Gloria. Not everyday one of the Umbrella Academy walks into your office.

“Oh wow…” she says, eyes wide. “You're one of those superheroes? That’s amazing wow.” She nervously chuckles “I’m sorry I’m normally not this shocked about things, and I hear a lot on the daily.”

“It’s okay” I say, staring at my hands.

She clears her throat. “I'm sure being apart of the Umbrella Academy was big but could you tell me about your life before that?”

I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, pictured my childhood in my brain and opened my mouth.

"Well, I'm sure to this day my father still thinks that my mother cheated on him, due to his "daughter's" virgin Mary-like creation since they were just newlyweds. He held it against my mother all of her life." I took a sip of water and continued.

"I'm not sure why he turned to alcohol. But that turned out as you could expect. He turned on everyone around him and acted like a beast. He regularly attacked my mom for anything she did wrong. But what made him more angry was that his freak of a daughter could heal her mother, after every beating."

"My mom told me before I left I had made her so much happier and in her words. She didn't even question these strange occurrences; she knew her baby was special." I smiled a bit.

I could tell that Gloria was painting a picture in her head of what I was describing too.

"And by the age of 8, I was standing up to my father, even if it didn't end so well. I'd get the beating instead but by the next day, my bloody body would be as good as new. On the surface at least, I had lots of internal issues from that time. But none of that stopped my father from trying to get equal with me.." I stopped talking after that.

My eyes could only focus on my right hand as it was picking at my left hand's skin. It was a habit I picked up as soon as I started to use my powers because I knew my skin would be right back to normal in the next few minutes.

"That's awful y/n I'm so sorry." She frowned. "Would you be okay with continuing?"

I blink up at her. “Yes, that would be okay,” I said. “Then there was this one day..”

..

17 YEARS AGO

“In five, four, three, two. This is Jim Hellerman, reporting live for channel 2 News outside of the Capital West Bank at Main and Sixth. A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank not three hours ago and took an unknown number of hostages.”

That was the big news update of September 2002, I remember. Well I don’t really have to think about it much because I was there with my mom at the bank. She planned on making some deposit when we were screamed at, not to leave by a man who had his gun pointed at us along with so many other civilians. He taped us up and told us to stand in a corner.

That was the first and only time I feared for my life. Police didn’t want them to start shooting, so they didn’t come into the building. Meaning that we were on our own and could die at anytime

One of the armed men walks into the scene unfolding. Sirens blaring, people getting shoved around and threats being made to the innocent.

“Now you’ve put me in a position where I gotta do something I don't want to do. Hmm?” He said talking to another person on his walkie talkie.

My mom brought me closer to her trying to use her body as a shield if things went south. And to us we thought they were about to be.

But strangely, a girl walked up to the man. She’d looked to be around my age in a school uniform and cartoon mask. Her loose curls bounced in the wind as she skipped up to him.

“Shit!” He screams putting his device down. Not noticing the girl until a few seconds after his outburst. “Hey, get back with the others.” He told her, trying to sound intimidating but she didn’t seem to fear him at all.

“I heard a rumor.” She spoke out.

He bent a little to reach her height and get in her face. “What? What did you say?”

She leaned in and cupped her hand to mimic whispering in his ear but loud enough for all of us to hear. “I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot.”

Without any hesitation he did what she commanded and shot the nearest armed man who happened to be trying to rough up my mom. We screamed as he kept shooting.

“We just heard shots from inside the bank. It’s uncertain if any hostages have been harmed in that.”

“There’s some movement on the roof. Possibly law enforcement.”

A loud crash and a boy landed down from the roof. It was crazy he wasn’t harmed at all from that high distance. He was also wearing the same mask and uniform as the girl but he had blond hair. From where he landed he jumped on one of the robbers and started beating him to a pulp, and then throwing him out a glass window.

“Looks like one of the armed robbers had been thrown from the bank.”

Another boy with brown hair runs in from the opposite doors as the girl and yells. “Guns are for sissies. Real men throw knives.” He then threw one of his knives and it curved in the air hitting a robber no where close to where the knife had originally been heading. It was incredible.

“I've been in many hostage situations like this, and it can escalate very quickly.”

The original man hops on a table pointing his gun out at the two of the before seen children plus another one. “Get back you freaks” he says walking back and forth in fear.

“Hey, be careful up there, buddy.” The knife boy calls out.

“Get back now!” The man screams.

“Yeah, I wouldn't want you to get hurt.” The girls mocking voice says.

Right before my eyes another boy teleports behind the man, sitting criss-cross on the table. “Or what?” He said calmly.

The man turns around and shoots at him but before the bullets could hit he teleports again. This time standing up with his arms crossed, clearly not impressed. But the man tries to shoot again.

“Ooh! That’s one badass stapler!” The boy laughs. The man no longer had a gun anymore but a stapler placed in his hand by the kid instead. The boy shoves the stapler into his face and the big man falls back, head hitting the floor before his body does.

“Although there’s been no activity for a few minutes, we’re gonna stay live on location to make sure we don’t miss a thing. In this hostage situation at the Capital West bank.”

The five already counted for children make way for the last and shortest one to make his move. “Do we really need to do this?” He talks quietly.

The blonde one replies to him. “Come on, Ben. There’s more guys in the vault.” So his name was Ben huh?

Ben sighs, “I didn't sign up for this.” Before walking into the room with more people. Large black tendrils illuminated the room as men screaming could be heard behind the door. And a beast roars but then the sound stops and Ben walks out again, this time covered in blood and guts.

He breathes heavily. “Can we go home now?” I felt bad for him.

The kids untied our hands and told us to run. And once it was clear to go my mom started to run out of the doors thinking I was right behind her.

“Now we see the hostages. They— They’re free. They’re scared clearly but they do seem to be unharmed.”

But I was behind her trying to help this older woman who’d slipped on the floor. As I was helping her, the kids walked out too.

“People are coming out now. It’s not the armed robbers. These are schoolchildren in uniforms with masks on. Jim Hellerman, Channel 2 News.”

But there was one not accounted for robber, the one from earlier who had been shot in the foot. I started to run out and call out to my mom who was outside. When the man got up from the floor, cocked his gun and shot at the kids.

Fortunately, he missed them but the bullet hit me.

Questions being asked to the children stopped when they saw my body flail onto the floor outside of the bank doors. I was shot right in the chest. There was blood everywhere and it started to leak over to where the kids were standing. They turned around to see where it was coming from..

Everyone looked horrified and there was a bunch of screaming. Mainly from my mother who was wailing as she ran over to hold me to her chest screaming for me to wake up. And that will be engraved in my memory forever after this day, I never wanted to hear her like this ever again.

Police started to rush over but in a matter of minutes, a miracle seemed to happen. At least to the city that is. There was a yellowish glow around my chest and the blood seemed to have reversed back into my body. Even the stains on my blue dress were gone. The bullet even spit out of my chest; it was truly witchcraft.

My eyes then shot open as I started to breathe in and out.

I don't exactly remember what I felt during those moments but I'm sure I left those people around me stunned. After all this was their first look at powers.

I couldn't care what the paramedics were talking about above my body. I was focused on the 6 children looking at me bewildered as well as the old-looking man with them and whatever my mom was saying at the time.

I was put on a stretcher and rushed to a hospital for evaluations after the pandemics came but they never found anything. It was like everything was perfectly reattached.

But as I was leaving I could see the news reporters zeroing in on the kids trying to get the details on how these children saved the bank from thievery.

“Our world is changing.” The man spoke to the crowd. “Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary.” He said looking back at the children. But they weren’t paying attention, some were staring at my ambulance and some eyes were on the ground.

“I have adopted seven such children. I give you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.”

I now realize thinking back, the seventh person he was talking about was me..

..

PRESENT DAY

My mouth felt like it was moving faster than my brain so I took a pause and chugged the rest of my water cup.

Once again Glorias eyes were wide open. As she took some notes down in a notebook I never noticed beyond this point.

"Uh once I got home I remember the house phone noise filled my house with its nonstop ring, the other person on the phone would change my life forever when he came in.”

“And who was that person?" Gloria asked.

"Reginald Hargeeves, eccentric billionaire and caring father from what the public knew.." I rolled my eyes.

"So I'm guessing it wasn't really like that" she asked carefully.

"He was never a father really, more like a hard state-national basketball coach." She wrote that down.

"I guess it was a hard decision for my parents to make well, my mother. My father was ready to give me up as soon as Reginald stepped foot in my small house."

"And I'm sure they thought there was nothing bad about the offer they were given, he promised I'd be raised in a steady environment with the best schooling and my powers would be used for the greater good. And in exchange, my parents would get a large sum of money for my absence."

"What were you doing during this?" Gloria worried.

"I think I was just sitting right there next to my mom actually. I definitely didn't understand at that point what was happening to me. Still thinking about the events of that day.”

"And then I was being taken out of my only home in the blink of an eye. I resisted the people taking me, starting with screaming and then kicking and then running. Back to my mom's arms, Reginald himself had to pull me away from her. The deal had already been struck and there was no taking me back."

Now looking back at my hands I could only see small teardrops on my palms. Gloria reached for a tissue from the other side of the room. "Thank you," I said as I wiped my eyes.

"I like to think that my mom was upset that day but the memory has already started to fade as I reached adulthood.

You know after that day I was no longer 'Y/n L/n' no, I was known by my new name.. Zero Hargeeves."

..

I decided that was the end of my story, at least for now because I couldn't place the pieces together anymore. I was full-on sobbing at that point.

Gloria decided to bring up something more light to talk about next but I don't remember what it was because I'd zoned out and thought about the cat she'd told me about earlier.

The two hours seemed to fly by because the last thing I heard her say was if I didn't have anything else to talk about then that would be the end of the session. My legs seemed to move on their own as I walked out of that building. I would come back at the same time next week and honestly, I think therapy was for the best. I forgot about how I felt about all these things for the longest time.

I started the journey back to the bus stop, stopping to look in the windows of shops.

Shops like bakeries and bookstores and other things like that. Until I came to a stop in front of a store with a TV sticking out in the window.

My eyes scanned the screen and they went wide. The lady on the news had a somber expression as someone died. I was feeling sad for the person's family, but then I read the red-blaring headline.

The person who died was Reginald Hargeeves...

...

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

[bakugohoex]

can you please write a fic where youre aizawas' wife and you're pregnant with twins, and while he's in the middle of teaching at UA you go into labor and you call him, and he leaves in the middle of their class, (the class dosen't know he's married and obviously dosen't know he's about to become a father) and the class thinks that something's seriously wrong because they saw panic on his face for a slight second when he got the call, so they end up following him to the hospital only to see him sniling and holding two newborn babies that look just like him and the woman who is on the hospital bed (you) and theyre in shock when they find out that you're his wife and those are his kids, but what shocks them most is the big smile on his face when he was holding his babies 🥺 idk i thought it would be cute

“did he steal two babies?”

pairing: shouta aizawa x female reader

cw: language, fluff

word count: 3000+

a/n: i live for domestic one shots, i might write some more depending on how i’m feeling, hope you guys like this have a happy new years eve people, the stupid tags arent working so if you could reblog it it would mean a lot 

summary: in which you’re aizawa’s secret wife, aizawa gets a call in the middle of class that you’re going into labor and eventually leaves, the class being noisy pricks follows him to a hospital, feeling worried they continue to follow until they see him holding two babies with a smile at his new family

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Eight months, eight full fucking months of carrying Aizawa’s little spawns. Having spent your last term of pregnancy on bed rest, it had been the worst term ever, you would rather have taken the puking up last nights dinner then staying in bed. Even Aizawa had gotten annoyed with how frustrated you had got, you craved how he could get up and leave for work. You hadn’t gone into work since your maternity leave started and you were annoyed, being a pro hero it had been worse.

As soon as you told the agency you were pregnant, you were desk bound, unable to go on patrols. It was fucking annoying and you hated every second of it, and all Aizawa could do was smirk at your frustration. “I’m due any day now, just leave work and stay with me.” You plead grabbing the material from his neck, you wanted him to hold you. You already felt gross staying in bed 24/7 but now you didn’t have your husband beside you 24/7.

“Kitten, this is my last day, I’ll spend the rest of the pregnancy with you.” You were grouchy letting go of him and turning your head to face away for him. “Y/n.”

He tried to gain your attention but ignored him, “you should’ve gotten pregnant as well you’d understand.”

He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head as he crept his arms around your body, his hand resting on the baby bump. You shuffled closer to his body, before turning your head to see him softly rubbing back and forth across the bump.

“Be patient, my love.” It was a whisper which brought you comfort.

“If you’re not home by 4pm then I’m locking you out of the house.” You threaten.

He looks down at you with your fiery eyes, “sure you are.” He kisses the top of your head; you pout wanting a proper kiss. He looks at how perfect you looked with his babies, when you both found out you were having twins, the small apartment you had called home since dating. Had gone and a house in the country close enough to UA and still for you to do pro hero work was where the both of you had situated.

Your relationship have been very secretive, a small wedding ceremony which had been perfect with your family and friends. Of course people had noticed you had gone MIA but one day you’d come out and tell the world how you and Aizawa were an inseparable family.

He moved to capture your lips, grabbing his face you wanted to just drag him back to bed. But he quickly moved out of your grip, “patience Y/n.”

“Shouta.” You whine like a child would.

“Seems like ill be raising three babies now.” He mocked putting the scarf around his yellow goggles.

“I hope you break your goggles.” You huff again, he doesn’t speak only kissing your temple after the small peck he had given to your lips.

He starts to walk out the bedroom, your wedding photo situated on the cabinet. You were perfect back then and now with his kids inside of you, you became somehow even more perfect. He had never thought that the woman he had met all those years ago, who had showed of her quirk to the whole world would be the one he fell in love with.

He looked back at you, you were grumpy due to hormones but once the babies were out you knew you’d go back to being yourself (and both of you could fuck properly, but that was just a bonus.)

“Make sure to walk around the house.” He warns.

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “and what if I don’t, will you come home early?” Your extra clinginess melted his insides, he knew how bored your loud self was and being cooped up inside had took a toll on you.

“I’ll come home early.” The sound of your squeal lifted his spirits, it was adorable, and he loved how easily your mood changed. Your face was full, and you had something to look forward too as he left the room.

The day for Aizawa had been smooth sailing, having asked to leave at 2pm and being able to, he had been with the students whilst they were training. He could imagine teaching his kids everything to do with this world, he couldn’t wait for his own leave, to spend time with his future babies but also with his loving wife.

The sound of Bakugo shouting was something else he had gotten used to; how could a 16-year-old boy be louder than the babies he had heard on those stupid pregnancy videos you made him watch. You had shown him a woman giving birth and to say it was the weirdest thing he’s ever seen; he’d happily watch stuff go inside of you but the other way round was another issue.

He stood watching over them, they had gotten a lot stronger in the months and the events that had occurred. It was another reason for the secrecy, having to hide your relationship to prevent disaster from happening. He watched the time tick away; another two more hours and he could leave and spend the rest of the trimester with you.

The sound of running caught his ears, he looked up and saw Principle Nezu walking towards him. “Agh Aizawa, we got a call from your wife’s mother.”

He hadn’t checked his phone, but if your mother had been calling it must’ve been something serious, the class had noticed the principle and had gotten quiet even Bakugo who wanted to know why the principle was here.

“Finally, you answered, she’s going into labour.” He heard on the other liner, he was in shock, his phone dropping to the side.

“Sh…She what?” It was early, of course you both knew about early pregnancies but this he had just spoken you a couple hours ago and now here you were about to go into labour.

“In labour, her water broke whilst I came to see her.” He could hear you screaming on the other side, how you must’ve been in pain, he knew you had been dilated a couple days ago but this, this was sooner than he had expected.

Nezu got the hint that something had happened and so had the class, a flash of worry across Aizawa’s face. “We’ll send the students back to the dorms.” He was calm and Aizawa quickly rushed out of the gym, leaving nothing else to say. He needed to make it to the hospital as quick as he could, in an instant he called your mother.

“Is she okay?” He had ran outside going to his car to quickly rush to the hospital.

He heard screaming which he assumed was you, “she’s grouchy…”

Before he could hear the rest of what your mother said, he heard you shout, “if that’s my idiot of a husband tell him to get to the fucking hospital.” It was a wail and he regretted not taking the day off.

“Y/n.” Her mother scowled, “we’re at the hospital, I’ll text you the room.” Is all her mother said before hanging up. Aizawa was stressed to say the least but what he hadn’t seen through the chaos was class 1A following him.

The class had seen the worry and panic before he jolted out of the room, “you all are dismissed for the day.” Nezu spoke before leaving.

“What do you think happened?” Momo questioned worried.

“He seemed in a hurry; it was probably something important.” Kirishima retorted back.

The class watched him on the phone the question of ‘is she okay?’ being heard. “Who do you think he’s talking about?” Mina asked.

“Why do you lot care so much?” Bakugo angrily said pissed that training had been cut early.

“He’s our teacher, what if something bad happened Kacchan.” Midoriya answered but it just fuelled Bakugo’s anger.

“We should follow him.” Denki suggested. “It might be serious and if people need help, we can help.”

They nodded, all assuming it had something to do with hero work, seeing Aizawa in his car, they started to follow him on foot, “we should’ve taken one of the buses.” Bakugo scowled following.

“We cant drive.” Kirishima muttered back.

Bakugo huffed following them all on the long walk, it was easy enough to keep following due to the mass traffic occurring. Aizawa having got the room number, he didn’t care for his surroundings, his eyes fixated on the road.

He finally saw the sign for the hospital and breathed out hoping you hadn’t gotten into labour yet. “Why is he at a hospital?” Ururaka questioned, “do you think someone got hurt?”

“Maybe we should go back.” Momo said not wanting to intrude on something that could have no villainous intent.

“Shut up extra’s, we’re already here.” Bakugo muttered walking to the entrance, they all followed the angry boy who glared at the children coming out of that ward.

“When did you care about the injured?” Kirishima questioned the blond.

“I don’t, you dragged me with you so now we’re staying.” For one thing the boy was persistent.

Across the hospital, Aizawa had ran to the room and saw your eyes filled with fury, your mother holding your hand as he could see how much pain you were in. “Look what the cat dragged in.” You scowled in pain.

“You can take over now.” Is all her mother said, going outside and waiting. He took her place and in an instance your hands had grabbed his.

“You must be the husband, I’ll be helping your wife, can you wear these?” The doctor spoke passing the blue overall type to keep his clothes covered, Aizawa obliged still holding your hand. “Mrs Aizawa you’re about 9cm dilated once you get to 10cm I’m going to tell you to push, okay?”

You were breathless and felt dreary, it would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for the fact you were having twins. You knew you’d go through even more pain then normal and in that moment felt scared.

“Hey kitten, look at me, you’ll do amazing.” Aizawa tried to be encouraging but even he was scared for all three of you.

“It hurts.” You tried to hide the tears, but it mixed in with the sweat.

“I know kitten, but you can grab onto me as hard as you want.” He smiles moving the strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“10cm’s.” One of the nurses spoke out, the doctor nodded before looking at the angry you and calm husband.

“Mrs Aizawa you need to start pushing.” The pain was excruciating, you tried to push your grip on Aizawa’s hands becoming tighter. It was the worst pain you’d gone through and you’d been stabbed before.

Aizawa gave words of encouragement but all you wanted to do was tell him to shut up, tears cascaded down your face whilst pushing. “I see a head.” The doctor spoke, “keep pushing.”

You pushed a long with what the nurses had told you, in time to make sure you weren’t just randomly pushing. Aizawa was the first to see it, first to see the baby come out, it was quiet before wailing out loud, it was his turn to cry. The baby being placed on your chest before the doctor continued, “one more push, let’s get the other one out.”

You felt the first baby on your ski grabbing your neck as you kept on pushing, “I don’t want too.” You cried out but seeing Aizawa and how he looked at the baby on your chest you knew you needed too.

“Come on kitten, one more push.” He spoke a loud, you suppresses the tears before feeling another hard push come and the head of another baby erupt out of you. The doctor but the second baby on your chest, both their crying having stopped.

They stayed on you, you let go of Aizawas hand as the doctor told him he could cut the umbilical cord, he happily obliged before looking at the two babies that you both had created. They were smaller then normal and there eyes were tightly shut clinging onto their new mother.

“We need to weigh and clean them.” The doctor spoke as two nurses took the babies ready to put tags on them, the oldest had been a boy and the youngest a girl. You missed there touch and hold wanting to hold them again but watching them being taken out.

“We did it.” You spoke sleepily as you felt yourself being cleaned up and ready to be moved into another room.

“Yeah, we did.” Aizawa spoke going in to kiss your temple, “we’re parents.”

Tears brimmed his eyes; this normal dry flat facial features had become happier and all he could think about was how you looked with his two children. How he had gotten a family that he had never expected to have had.

Being moved to a different room, Aizawa followed sitting on the chair beside you. You saw the two babies come back to you both, in an instance they were placed back into your arms. “You can hold them?”

You had seen Aizawa’s hesitance to even touch the babies, but he knew how to do it and with ease they both were situated in his arms. You could hear your mother outside, she seemed to be talking to some people, but you ignored it watching at how Aizawa’s eyes welled up at the two babies.

“Where are my grandchildren?” Your mother spoke a loud before having heart eyes at how Aizawa was holding your babies.

“Mum, please be quieter.”

“Hey, I had to handle your screams, let me be happy, they look adorable with their father.” She spoke moving to the bed.

“They really do.” You both watched him look at the two children, a tear falling from his face.

Your mother turned back to you and she smiled at you, “I’m proud of you.” You give a nod holding her hand before she speaks, “have you two got any na…”

Before she could continue you hear the door open with the doctor coming in, “it seems you two have more visitors.”

You were both confused on the matter, nobody really knew you had gone into pregnancy except your parents and his and your father was still at work whilst his parents were out of town. It was unexpected but your eyes widen when you see the group of 16-year olds.

“They were wondering around the hospital.” The doctor speaks, Aizawa hadn’t noticed his students, but you and your mother had.

The kids were in shock at seeing a pro hero in a hospital bed but there eyes went to Aizawa’s he had been looking at his babies, unaware of his surroundings.

Nobody spoke instead just watching Aizawa interact with the two new-born babies, a smile placed on his normal flat self. “Did he steal two babies?” You hear one of them whisper, you instantly begin to speak after that.

“Shouta.” You whisper.

“Yeah.” He was so out of dazed but once he turns to face them all, he’s in shock as well.

“I’ll leave you to handle this.” Your mother leaves not wanting to have to explain this scenario.

Aizawa was still in shock, you reach out for one of the babies, he passes you the youngest, who starts to grab at your fingers. He sits holding the boy, before the class start cascading you both in questions.

“Are they yours?”, “How do you know Pro Hero Y/n?”, “Who is she to you?”

Aizawa looks at them and then at his family, you nod a sign that he could tell them everything, “This is my wife, and these are our new kids.”

It was a simple but effective, the class in shock that there homeroom teacher who seemed to be detached had you the loving pro hero as a wife, but even more now had two kids.

“Congratulations.” They all spoke a loud. It was rehearsed and you could tell that it all came out due to shock.

“What are you doing here anyway, I thought we said go back to the dorms.” Aizawa scowled.

“Baby, it’s fine, it’s good they found out anyway, since you wont be teaching them for a bit.” You calmed the man down.

He shakes his head at how easily you calmed him down, “you’re an amazing pro hero.” Midoriya spoke a loud, you thanked him before they didn’t know what else to say.

“I’ll go call Nezu, he can get you back to UA.” Aizawa muttered handing you the other child as he left the room.

“You married Aizawa.” Mina spoke a loud everybody looked at her, “what? We were all thinking it?”

You laugh looking at them all, “yes I did.”

“And you slept with him.” Mina continued with ever more eyes growing wider.

You continued to laugh, “that is how I got pregnant.”

“What are their names?” Ururaka asked coming towards the two kids.

You sat upright, letting them have a closer look, they all came forward even Bakugo who saw children as devils spawn. They were fresh out and anew, so pure and innocent as they tugged onto your hair.

“We haven’t decided yet.” You said looking at the two kids, you notice Aizawa at the door looking at the class as they surrounded you and the babies. The way they were quieter than they had ever been around two new-borns, they spent time asking questions and looking at the two babies. Before being dragged back to UA, all smiling happily at having spent the afternoon with two new-borns.

“They look like you.” You mutter sleepily, the two babies being put to sleep on the other sides of the room. “We made them.”

“I love you.” He whispers kissing you softly, you kiss back, happily at the new family you had and Aizawa finally realised what his happiness was. You and your two babies were all he ever needed now.

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[theparanormalperiodical]

The REAL Story Behind The Crooked Man And The 7 Other Fairy Tales & Nursery Rhymes With *Even More* Disturbing Backstories

It was 4 years ago that we first met the Crooked Man.

With a *sickening* reveal via rottweiler fit for the latest season of Rupaul’s Drag Race, the suited gentleman staggered his way from The Conjuring 2 (2016) into our nightmares.

But his ashy undertones, gnashing teeth, and general aura of “I’m a demon, or something, which means I have no real motive apart from wanting to kill you” isn’t the only thing that fits the film far too well.

The Conjuring universe is the definition of ‘based on a true story’. And the Crooked Man fits the brief.

In the opening scenes of the film we see lovable and bulliable Billy stutter through a nursery rhyme:

There was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile, He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile; He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse, And they all liv'd together in a little crooked house.

Accompanied by a totally-cursed-i-mean-just-look-at-it zoetrope (it’s a bit like a mini projector that shows you a moving cartoon), Billy introduces us to one of the handful of extra entities terrorising London’s most haunted house. You can discover more about the true story of 284 Green Street which inspired The Conjuring 2 here. 

But Billy also introduces us to a real nursery rhyme inherent in British culture - and British history.

Yes, the nursery rhyme, like many, is based on dark and twisted reality softened for a bedtime story. And amongst this history was a real person. Unfortunately, the Crooked Man is not the only fairy tale monster or nursery rhyme entity that will be haunting your dreams.

Are y’all tucked in?

The Crooked Man

The nursery rhyme was first told sometime in the 17th century during the reign of King Charles I. But the Crooked Man was not the Stuart King - it was allegedly inspired by Scottish general Sir Alexander Leslie and the covenant he signed.

The covenant secured religious and political freedom for Scotland despite prevailing animosity between the English and the Scottish.

The crooked stile is the awkward alliance between the two parliaments and the crooked house refers to the collective union the Scottish and English lived together in. But the ‘crooked’ part works on another level, too.

The great recoinage of late 17th century meant sixpences - which feature in the rhyme - were made of very thin silver and thus easy to bend.

An alternative origins story links it back to Lavenham, a village in Suffolk (England). The half-timbered houses leaned at off angles as if supporting each other, creating a crooked aesthetic that matches the nursery rhyme.

The Pied Piper Of Hamelin

I distinctly remember hearing the story of the Pied Piper when I was about 7 years old. I was there, sat crossed-legged on the wooden floor in assembly and listening to the headteacher tell us the tale of the musical maverick with an overhead projector.

I remember it being far more nostalgic and not so traumatising.

The story goes that sometime in the 13th century a peculiar man dressed in brightly-coloured clothes (pied clothing) was hired by the town to rid them of the rats with his pipe-playing abilities. Hamelin had been suffering from an infestation that would threaten the locals with the plague. The piper was to play his pipe, entice the rats with his magical music, and lead them to a river where they would promptly drown.

He was hired and he did the job - but they didn’t pay up.

The piper couldn’t exactly refund his services. Instead, he sought vengeance, luring away the children of the town with his magical pipe. He waited until Saint John and Paul’s day where the adults would be in the church, dressed in green like a hunter, and played his pipe. The children of the village swarmed to him, all 130 of them, following him out of the town and into a cave. Three were unable to follow due to being blind and deaf and thus told the villagers what had happened.

The real story:

Some versions of the story claimed he made them walk into a river, others claim he returned them after payment. But what we do know for sure is that there is a street in Hamelin called Bungelosenstrasse. On this street - ‘the street without drums’ according to translation - the children were seen last. No music and no dancing is allowed on this road.

Bluebeard

We open on a typical Medieval scene: a powerful and wealthy man is looking for a young wife to replace the last one who mysteriously went missing. Bluebeard’s been through quite a few women, actually, but it’s his latest bae that stars in this story. Bluebeard marries his neighbour’s daughter and goes on a business trip.

He tells her he can stay alone in their house but she cannot open a certain door.

Of course, she opens the door and finds the corpses of his ex-wives. Her and her sisters band together to kill Bluebeard, showering themselves with a wealthy inheritance.

The real story:

This tragic tale of murder and mystery is unfortunately all too true.

There are many alleged origins of the folktale. Let’s start with the Medieval ruler of Brittany, Conomor the Cursed: his new wife agreed to marry him to prevent him from invading her father’s lands but accidentally walked in on a room full of his dead, old wives. She was visited by their ghosts who warn him if she falls pregnant, he will kill her, preventing a prophecy that claims he will be killed by his own son.

She gets knocked up, gives birth, and then she gets her block knocked off.

An alternative inspiration could be a similarly brutal figure: Gilles de Rais (15th century). He was accused of murdering approximately 140 children who suddenly went missing in the Nantes countryside. He was condemned to death and executed in 1440.

Snow White

It’s one of the most popular fairytales of all time.

The story goes that a queen gives birth to a baby girl but dies in childbirth. The king’s new wife is wicked and vain, asking her magic mirror ‘who is the fairest one of all?’ on a daily basis. When the child turns seven, the mirror changes its answer from the queen to the child, Snow White (yeah, that’s weird). The queen hires a huntsman to kill Snow White, but she begs for mercy and says she will live in the woods and he can pretend he killed her.

She finds shelter in a cottage belonging to seven dwarfs who agree to let her stay as a maid until the evil queen asks the mirror her favourite question. It claims Snow White is still alive and the fairest of them all. She goes through several methods of attempting to kill Snow until she falls into a deep coma. The dwarfs host a funeral, a prince comes along, and he, uhhh, kisses what he assumed to be a corpse and she is awakened.

They then get hitched but don’t invite the queen to the wedding. The queen asks the mirror yet again the identity of the fairest, assuming Snow is well and truly deceased but the mirror breaks the bad news to her again. The queen tries to kill her once more but Snow’s hubby forces her to wear red-hot iron slippers and dance in them until she dies.

There’s a lot going on here.

But rather than unpacking everything that's wrong with all of this *gestures to everything*, let’s just get to the dark reality beneath it all.

The real story:

The inspiration is generally deemed to be Margaretha von Walbeck, a young woman who had a terrible relationship with her stepmother. She was forced to move to Brussels and fell in love with Phillip II of Spain, a romance not popular with her parents.

Suddenly, however, Margaretha died. Rumour has it she was poisoned.

Another detail of her life also links her to Snow White: her father’s copper mines were often filled with child labourers whose growth was stunted by working in them, mirroring the ‘dwarves’ in the story.

But Margaretha is not the only contender: Maria Sophia Margaretha Catharina Freifräulein von Erthal *inhale* also hated her stepmother. This - and the fact that her stepmother was given a mirror as a gift by her husband - also ties her to Snow White.

Hansel And Gretel

It’s possibly the most simple fairy tale up for discussion: a brother and sister are sent out to the woods by their father. The mother asked for him to send them away so they can survive a famine. But Hansel uses stones to trace their steps back home. One day, however, he uses crumbs. They get eaten by the local wildlife, so the kids get lost.

They then discover a witch's house, a gingerbread cottage. She lures ‘em in, fattens up Hansel, and prepares to feast on his flesh. The kids plot against her, throw her in the oven, and steal her stuff before heading back to live with their father.

Okay, so maybe this one isn’t based on a true story. It’s based on true stories. Yep - plural.

The real story:

Child abandonment and infanticide was pretty common during plagues, famines, and all other circumstances of poverty. In fact, this particular tale is believed to come from the Great Famine which stretched across Europe from 1315 to 1317. Child abandonment surged during this time.

Rapunzel

Turns out Disney lopped off a lot of Rapunzel’s real story to make it a family friendly movie. Yep, this is a weird one.

A pregnant woman begins to crave a kind of salad leaf (Campanula rapunculus, also called rapunzel) in the garden of the house next door. He goes out to nick it but is caught by the homeowner - a witch. She says he can take the rapunzel, but in return he must give her the child once it is born.

The witch raises Rapunzel as her own but locks her away in a tower when she is 12 to protect her from the outside world.

A prince eventually rocks up and decides to climb her immensely long hair. Unknown, probably PG-13 and probably not consensual acts happen. Still, given it's the medieval era they agree to get hitched after escaping.

The witch discovers her plan, cuts off her hair, exiles Rapunzel, and uses the locks as bait for the prince before throwing him to the briar roses below where he is promptly blinded. Rapunzel gives birth to twins and the prince finds her, identifying her only by her voice. Her tears restore his voice.

The real story:

Being kidnapped or being kept hidden away from the rest of the world is pretty common, well, all of the time. But Saint Barabara, a Greek saint, was the main inspiration for the tale.

She was locked away in a tower in Turkey in the third century by her father in an attempt to protect her Christianity. But her Pagan father’s efforts did not succeed and she discovered the ways of Jesus. She escaped but she was eventually caught by her father who then tortured and beheaded her.

Religious intolerance, y’all.

Beauty And The Beast

Time for another Disney classic with a heavily edited plotline.

The father of a family seeks shelter in a grand palace during a storm. In the morning before he leaves he takes a rose from the garden but is caught by a beast who threatens to kill him for nicking a flower. But the beast agrees not to kill him if his daughter takes his place instead.

The daughter moves to the palace but asks to go see her family for a week. She is then convinced by her sisters to stay at home. A magic mirror then reveals the beast is dying because she isn’t with him. She returns to him and her love breaks the curse that makes him appear so monstrous.

The real story:

Petrus Gonsalvus (1637-1618) was born with hypertrichosis. This meant he had a thick layer of hair all over his body - his physical difference didn’t go down very well. He was kept as a ‘wild man’ in a cage and fed raw meat.

When he was 10 years old he was gifted to the king of france. But he wasn’t kept as a ‘beast’. He was educated like a nobleman and was taught to read, write, and speak three different languages. He was then married off to the daughter of a court servant.

He was married to her for over 40 years and they had seven children together.

(Aww.)

Three Blind Mice

Three blind mice, three blind mice, See how they run, see how they run, They all ran after the farmer’s wife, Who cut off their tails with a carving knife, Did you ever see such a thing in your life, As three blind mice?

The real story:

It's one of those nursery rhymes you grow up with - and 17 years later you realise how traumatic it actually is.

This nursery rhyme can be traced back to the reign of Bloody Mary (16th century) who had a tricky relationship with Protestants. And by that I mean she burnt them alive, hence the nickname.

The three blind mice represented three Protestant bishops who may have been blinded before their execution or spiritually blind for following Catholicism. Another reference to Queen Mary was her as a farmer’s wife.

Her husband, Philip of Spain, owned several estates and thus was technically a farmer.

Welp, there goes your childhood.

If you liked this post go on and like and reblog. Go on, share your love for my amazing talents with the world!

And if you want to read an article about the paranormal every weekend then you best be hitting follow!

See you next week, kiddos. Sleep tight.

[j-morgan-fly]

“How can you ask me to marry, Lord Eddard when I am widow to his older brother, mother to his niece!” 

Catelyn had never raised her voice to her father, not once, not even in the sad and bitter days after her mother's death on the child bed.

“It’s is because of his older brother and because of your daughter. Sansa is a sweet babe, but a girl can not inherit. The Lordship goes to Eddard Stark, who is in need of a wife and son.” Catelyn felt sick.

“Your daughter will know her father's family, and the home she was always meant to be raised within. Lord Eddard has no qualms with Sansa, as long as you have no issue with his bastard.” Catelyn spun, glaring at her father.

“I am to raise his bastard alongside by own daughter?” She was appalled. 

“How can you ask me that?”

“His child is no stain against you, it occured while he was at war, unmarried.” Lord Hoster reminded his daughter.

“You have only birthed one child, you are young, you are fertile and you are in need of a husband still.” he told her, standing, making it very clear from his posture alone he did not expect any more argument from her.

“You are my daughter, you are a Tully. Remember our words.” were his last words before leaving her.

“Family, duty, honor.” She said to herself, closing her eyes until she heard Sansa begin to cry in the next room. 

She went to her girl, her sweet girl, with all the Tully colors in her hair and eyes but she had something, something about her brow that reminded her of Brandon, and the shape of her chin. Catelyn couldn’t help but to think that Brandon would have been disappointed that she had birthed a girl instead of a boy. She picked up her daughter and held her close, her piece of brandon, her daughter, her Sansa.

In a few weeks time, Ned as Lord Eddard was so often called, arrived with Lord Jon Arryn. This would be Catelyn’s second wedding in her family home, and Lysa’s first. Her father had arranged for her younger sister to marry Jon Arryn. 

The New king Robert Baratheon was in Kings Landing, wedding Cersei Lannister in the Sept of Baelor. 

Afterward, Lysa and Catelyn did their duties and in the morning Cat was surprised to find her husband in the other room, holding her daughter who had woken.

“My lord, I am so sorry. Did her cries wake you?” Catelyn sat up in the bed. Ned was standing in the opening of the adjoining doors that lead to Sansa’s nursery. 

“I should have had her brought to a room further from this one for the night.” Cat prattled on, so scared that she might have offended him. That he had remembered just a year ago she had laid in this same bed with his brother, that he had wed and consummated his brother's widow and was disgusted and horrrofied with them both.

“No, that’s alright.” he told her, his voice deep and a little wistful. 

After a moment of strange silence, with him holding his niece and Catelyn just looking on, it was the quiet wolf that broke the silence.

“She’s beautiful. She looks like you.” he told her, and it was the first time that Ned had paid her a compliment, even if it might not have been as direct a compliment as the ones Brandon used to shower her with.

“Thank you, my lord.” she blushed. 

She couldn’t help herself, she had to ask. “Does it bother you, that I and Brandon…..”

“I can not lie and say it doesn’t disturb my sense of moral slightly, but your father made a excellent point when he suggested we wed.” he told her honestly.

Cat furrowed her brow. What exactly had her father said to him to convince him to wed her she wondered.

“We will leave on the morrow for Winterfell.” he told her. “I haven’t been home in so long.”

“You must be excited then.” she put her arms on her knees, bracing herself on them.

“I am.” 

They didn’t talk much more that night, not for the lack of trying on Cats part to get to know her second husband. It felt stranger and more uncomfortable than ever to be married to the brother of her deceased husband when he held her daughter like she was her own. But in a way, Sansa was. 

When they left, Catelyn couldn’t help but make sure she was in a separate carriage than her husband's bastard. Ned would not say who the mother was, and she hadn't the courage to ask him yet. She was afraid where he might have come from, if he carried any illness with him.  Catelyn had been in near hysterics when she caught the wet nurse feeding Sansa right after Jon from the same teet, and had ordered a second wet nurse as soon as possible to be found. Not wanting to take any risks.

Shortly after their arrival to Winterfell, Ned's younger brother, Benjen, joined the night's watch. He didn’t give his brother a reason why, simply told Ned his decision and soon he was traveling with a number of other men from the North to the wall.

Catelyn and Ned had all of Winterfell to themselves. For months, Catelyn felt at odds in this new place meant to be her home, but that began to calm when she learned she was already pregnant with her second child. It was not even a full year after she had birthed Sansa, but the maester felt that there was no need to be alarmed or worried. She was just a very fertile young woman and it was not so uncommon for a woman to fall pregnant again after giving birth to one child.

She gave birth to a boy, who Ned named Robb. 

Three more children followed after. Another boy, they named Brandon, a girl they named Arya and the youngest of their children who they named Rickon. The five children, were raised side by side with Sansa as siblings. To all of them, Ned was their father.  

Sansa was five when they explained to her about her true father, Brandon, and what had happened to him. At first, she was very sad that Ned wasn’t her true father, she was scared that it meant he didn’t love her as much as his real children, that she was no different than Jon who was a bastard. But instead of being without a mother she was without a father. The child had begun to sob, her hands covering her growing red face and tears, trying to apologize at how unsightly she was but she was just so upset. 

Ned and Catelyn had never seen her so tormented. 

Catelyn had quickly taken her daughter in her arms and explained the difference between what Sansa was and a bastard. She was born within wedlock, to two noble houses and her father had simply died in trying to do what was right and honorable by his poor sister. 

“You are a true Lady Sansa, not a bastard and though I wish your father, Brandon could have been alive to watch you grow, I am happy to have your lord father as my husband and to help me raise you. He loves you as his niece and his daughter.” she tried to sooth her, but it did not seem enough to just simply here it from her mother. 

Ned stepped in, nodding to Cat to let him take her. He picked her up from under her arms, so tall yet so light still, and put her on his knee. 

“My sweetwolf, I may not have fathered you, but you are blood, and I have never for one moment loved you any less than Robb, Arya or Rickon. You are my daughter, you will always be my daughter.” he had told her, wiping her tears. 

“So, I can have two fathers?” Sansa asked with the naievty only a child could have.

“Yes, in a way I suppose so.” He said with a thoughtful nod.

“And what about me, Sansa, do you love me any less knowing I’m not your father?” He asked her, and it near broke Catelyn’s heart to see the fear in her husband's eyes that her girl might reject him.

“Of course not, you're my papa!” Sansa has shook her head violently before wrapping her thin arms around Neds Neck. “I will always love you.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.” He smiled into her hair and held her for awhile. “For even if you didn’t, I shall always love and protect you.”

Ned had not sired Sansa, but it was true that he had always cared for her and loved her as if he had. He did so for Brandon at first. Sansa was his niece but he put extra care into making sure Sansa was raised well and cared for. He made sure that Catelyn saw that so she may be more comfortable in their marriage and home. 

The love that came after that, was like a rushing river. It had started as a natural trickle of familiar affection, being her uncle, and then flowed and widened out into a bubbling brook before it was an unstoppable coursing river. 

Sansa was a wonderful baby, so calm and easy to handle. She was a lady at three, so courteous and eager to please. Maybe too eager sometimes. But she got along with her brothers for the most part, they always played out her favorite tales of knights and a princess in need of saving. She was even polite to Jon, though her mother discouraged any interaction with him when she could. 

Rickon was so small, and Arya was a wiley toddler who Sansa had no interest in after Arya kept pulling her hair.

When she wasn’t with her siblings she was attending to her studies with the Septa Mordane, giving her utmost attention, and when she wasn’t with either she was at her mother's side, trying to learn from her and help her. Some days when she didn’t have her lessons, when her brothers had lessons of their own, and her mother was just too busy with her duties or Rickon, then Sansa would go to her father and she would sit at his side quietly and work on her stitching while he went over ledgers and talked to the master of arms and his son about the state of the North and what needed to be seen to.  

He never minded her company. And afterward, when his work was done, he would have the kitchen make up her favorite snacks and he would take her to have a picnic, just the two of them in front of the heart tree. Sansa loved those days, sometimes she would pray to the tree she could be somewhere else, but when she was with her uncle there was no place better. Ned would tell her stories about the tourney of Harrenhal, the happy parts only as not to scare her. He would tell her about his friends in the Eyrie, and she would listen with rapt attention as he tried to make his childhood adventures with Robert as silly and romantic as possible for her. He would tell her about Brandon’s tourney’s, about how brave he was. How he always looked out for his younger siblings. 

And after Sansa was told about Brandon, their picnics became about sharing stories about him with Sansa. So that she could have a better understanding of her father, of the man he was, and so that she would know that he would have loved her very much.

When the Greyjoy rebellion began, and Robert had called for his friend to fight with him once more, Sansa was hysterical. She had clung to Ned, begged him not to go, that she didn’t want him to be killed like Brandon. She had wrapped herself around him and held on tight, anchoring him from mounting his horse on the day he was to leave. She never threw fits like that, always such a perfect lady, knowing when to speak and when not to, to be mindful of her manners. 

But the fear of losing her father, the only father she had ever known struck a terrible panic within her that abandoned all decorum and propriety. She didn’t care if she wasn’t acting like a proper lady, she didn’t want her father to go, and she would do anything to stop him.

“Sansa, let go of your uncle, you're upsetting the other children.” Catelyn scolded softly, not wanting her husband to go either. She tried to tug her daughter away from her husband, but Sansa was surprisingly strong. 

She was about to ask some of the men to help, as Ned could barely bring himself to try and push her away, when Jon of all the children came up to them.

“Give him a favor, if you give him a favor he will be sure to come back. Just like your songs.” the boy said. “The songs always say so,”

Sansa’s eyes widened, and she blinked the tears from her eyes and realized he  was right. The knights that received favors from pretty ladies always returned home.

“Don’t go yet, you can’t go until I give you my favor!” She shouted at Ned  before running back to the keep. Trusting her uncle  wouldn’t leave without her giving him the favor.

The men encouraged him to mount his horse now, to ride off before she could come back but he waited. He looked at Jon and put a hand on his shoulder, and thanked him for the idea.

Jon just shrugged. 

When Sansa returned she had her project in it’s embroidery ring. She took it out, and then folded it as best she could for him and presented the cloth. It was winterfell, with purple crocus in bloom in front of it. Sansa’s favorite wildflower. 

“Thank you, sweetwolf.” he said as he examined her fine work. She was so talented and he was so very proud of her. 

He put it in the inside of his duvet, right by his heart. 

“You have to come back, you have to.” She said strongly, demandingly as only a spoiled child could be as he kissed her head. 

“I will.” he promised, though it was one he knew he might likely break. Still he made it so that he didn’t have to see her cry.

He kissed his wife after he had seen to Sansa, and patted the boys shoulders and told them to be strong and gave Arya a hug before finally he mounted his horse and rode off from Winterfell to fight another war with Robert.

When the war against the Greyjoys was won, their rebellion crushed on their very own shores. Ned brought back with him Theon Greyjoy and was welcomed home by all the arms of all his children. Sansa as had been the first to throw herself at him, and after her all the children, knocking him to his feet. After they had finished their giggles from their dramatic welcome, they noticed the boy with him.

Ned advised he was the youngest son of Balon Greyjoy,  who would be a ward of Neds to ensure that Balon would not attempt such a rebellion again. His two sons had died on the shores of Pyke, his only heir left was Theon. 

Rob took to Theon quickly, the boy sad and scared at first before Rob managed to get him out of his clam shell. He was a lively child after that and was treated with the same respect and care as any of Ned’s other children. Sansa had even managed to rope him into playing with her on a number of occasions with her other brothers. 

For nine years there was peace and prosperity across the kingdoms. The land and crops prospered in the long summer. 

The children started to grow up, Sansa grew into a young woman who dreamed of romance with a handsome knight or young lord and didn’t wish to spend her time sitting and talking with Ned as she once had. Arya grew to be the very opposite of her sister, boyish and unrefined who would rather spend her days with her father or playing with her brothers, wishing for nothing more than to practice sword fighting and archery with them.

Bran was curious and dreamed of knighthood, climbing everything her could and practicing hard in the yard with the master of arms. Robb grows, tall and strong beside Theon and his half-brother Jon, forging a bond with the bastard of his father as strong as what he had with any of his siblings.

And sweet Rickon, sweet and wild was the youngest of them all.

They were happy children, each one of them, even the brooding Jon Snow.

And then Jon Arryn died.

[kingneptunesthinninghead]

In your opinion, which fast food place has the best fries? i love me some mcdonald’s fries.

Are there hurricanes where you live? they happen every once in a while

What do you hate the most about yourself? I'd really rather not get into this right about now. same

What song are you listening to right now? nothing but catch fire by 5sos is stuck in my head.

What was your first concert? brad paisley ���.

What’s your favorite Johnny Depp movie? willy wonka and the chocolate factory

Who did you last say “I love you” to? My sister. probably same

Do you like pumpkin pie? it’s about the only pie i DO like.

Do you know anyone named Austin? no one i like

Do you know anyone who is having a baby? my friend just gave birth to a baby about a week ago

What was the last thing you cried about? i cried in the car on the way home from work last night while listening to jet black heart lmaooo.

Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk? i dont drink milk.

Do you think you are an argumentative person? Definitely not. agreed, i’m conflict avoidant to a fault

How many deep dark secrets do you have? i dont think i have any

What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten? the hot wings from bonchon were pretty f’n spicy

Who last called you sexy? i dont remember

Would you class yourself as a good role model? i think for the most part

Are you scared of the dark? sometimes i am

Do you have a motto? nah.

Who did you last see on webcam? my club committee from school

Do you need a haircut? i just got one about a month ago so not atm

How would you react if your mother told you that she was pregnant again? that would be impossible considering she’s in menopause and has her tubes tied

You log into Facebook and see the red ‘1’ notification next to the message icon. Who do you want it to be? no one i hate facebook

Would you rather exercise alone or with other people? most of the time alone but sometimes i’ll exercise with my sister or in a structured workout class

What is the most difficult or involved video game you’ve ever played? any bc i suck at video games

Ever watch the show Supernatural? nope

Ever heard of flavored honey? If so, what’s you’re favorite flavor? i’ve heard of it but never tried it

Do you remember what your favorite show was when you were little? i went thru hardcore icarly and victorious phases, also LOVED spongebob

Do you put anything besides cheese on grilled cheese sandwiches? sometimes i’ll do bacon on mine

When it comes to books, what do you think is the “perfect” amount of pages? the length of a book has never deterred me from reading it, ever.

Would you ever be interested in going scuba diving? maybe

Out of all of your friends/relatives, who would you say has the best vocabulary? not to toot my own horn but me

Are any of your fingers or toes deformed? What about the nails? no

When is the last time you cried? didnt i already answer this

Would you ever date somebody that has been divorced more than once? mm prob not

What are some stereotypically nerdy things that you like? i guess marvel and space would count

Have you ever attended a wedding that ended where the bride and groom didn’t actually get married? What happened? no but i’ve attended several weddings of people who have quickly divorced

What scares you the most about becoming a mother (hypothetically, if you don’t want to have children)? raising them to be a good well adjusted person.

Would you ever want a job in fashion? What would you enjoy about that type of job? prob not

Would you ever be a surrogate mother? nope

What do you think would be the best and worst parts about being a twin? i would love having that strong of a bond with someone and having someone to go thru life with but i would also feel like i never had anything that was truly mine esp in early childhood

Do you feel that your childhood was more rough compared to others around you? my childhood was great compared to a lot of peoples and i’m extremely thankful for that

How would you react if you found out today that you were actually adopted? i would feel betrayed that i’d lied to for 20 years

Have either of your parents ever cheated on one another before, that you know of? How would you react if you found out today that one of them cheated? not that i know of and again i would feel crushed and betrayed

Do you like cleaning and organizing? when i’m in the mood for it

How would you react if you found out you were infertile? If you don’t plan on having kids to begin with, what is a long-term goal you’d be crushed to find out was impossible to achieve? i would definitely be upset bc i want to have at least one biological kid but in the end i would find just as much joy from adopting a child and giving them a loving home.

Would you take your dream job if it were out of the country? it depends on what other factors are in my life at the time

Have you ever been robbed? no

Is anyone close to you an alcoholic? my friend at college and that’s not even a joke that’s genuine. i think he’s getting the help he needs tho which is good

Have you ever dumped anyone? no

What kind of tea do you drink? I hate tea. same it tastes like dish water

Do you know anyone in a gang? No, and I hope I never do. same

What’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you? omg i still remember this bc i was blown away by how sweet it was. so in 9th grade i had one friend in my pe class and idek how we started talking but we just stuck by each other bc we didn’t have anyone else and we sat at our own table right by the teacher’s desk in health class and we actually became pretty close friends throughout the year well anyway i mentioned my birthday was coming up and she asked me what i wanted and i was like no you don’t have to and she was like do you want flowers and i was like sure why not and i didn’t think she was gonna actually do it but then on my birthday she shows up to health class with these beautiful purple flowers and i was so shocked that she actually got them for me so yeah i’ve never forgotten that ever. she moved away after that year and i never saw her again but i hope she’s doing well

What is your orientation? Gay? Straight? Metrosexual? straight but i have questioned before.

Have you ever done anything really dangerous or illegal with friends? nothing too wild

Name three feelings you’re feeling right now: bored, content, excited

And the reasons for these feelings? bored bc i’m at work, content bc i like the way my life is going rn, excited bc i get to go back to school and see all my college friends soon.

How do you feel about your life right now? pretty pleased at the moment

Is it easy for you to like yourself? Why or why not? no. it’s a conscious choice to like yourself that you have to make everyday and some days that choice is easier to make than others

What subjects come naturally to you? English, some aspects of science. agree with this, i’m very good at english and i understand some science

What subjects do not? MATH

Do you read more fiction or more non-fiction books? fiction but sometimes i like a good non fiction book.

How has today been for you? pretty good nothing too exciting

What did you do? watched tv and went to work

Are there any candles lit in the room you’re in? no

Are there any lava lamps near you? nope.

Do you like cats or dogs better? Cats. agree i have 4

Are any of your friends a pothead? yes, several

What’s a goal you’re trying to accomplish soon? start working out consistently again and get into therapy.

Are you a high maintenance person? nope

The last time you yelled as loud as you could, what was the reason? i was at a karaoke night

Have you ever been heartbroken? yep

Who did that to you? my ex crush

Did you go through an ugly stage as a kid? ohhhh yeah

The last type of sandwich you made or ate: a ham and cheese sandwich with pepperoni and mayo

The last time you spent most of the day in bed: when i was at school and i had stayed up until 6am the night before.

The last friend or acquaintance you made: my coworker

The last thing you took pictures of: a rainbow

The last time you were scared: when i thought a car was following me the other night

The last thing you looked up online: manic panic hair dye.

The last thing you disagreed with: i don’t remember.

Does your house have a separate laundry room? yep

Do your parents still help you financially? yes, a lot

Does your car have a backup camera? nope.

Have either of your parents ever been in trouble with the law? not to where they’ve been arrested

Have you ever had a pet that lived to be really old for its breed/species? my childhood cat lived to be 18 which was pretty impressive.

What was the last strong scent you smelled? my cat’s fart

Have you ever told someone to their face that they were ugly? no way

Is your bed against more than one of your walls? nope

Have you ever been attracted to someone’s parent? um yes some people i know have dilfs i’m sorry

Have you ever pole danced before? no

Have you ever broken into someone’s house? no.

Have you ever seen a live bat? yup at a beach house in the obx

What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before? i bought bonchon for my friends and i one time which was just about $100

Have you ever taken a woodshop class? no

How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? as little time as possible.

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? i had one math teacher in high school that consistently made me feel dumb bc i needed extra help to understand the concepts and couldn’t do mental math that fast so didnt like her

Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? closest i’ve been was second row

Are your parents supportive of you? yep

[slippinmickeys]

Of the Eight Winds, Part 7

This is part seven in who knows how many from the prompt from @sunflowerseedsandscience : “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn’t cheat (because sorry that’s not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.”

Links to parts one, two, three, four, five and six.

1

When he repeated the words “I, Fox, take you, Dana” he made a face, and she couldn’t help but laugh. It was half nerves and half him and bubbled up from inside her. The officiant smiled at her indulgently, and Mulder repeated himself and again made a face, and again she laughed. This time she looked over her shoulder at her mother who was standing witness, giving her an “ honestly , Dana” look while simultaneously trying to hold a one-year-old Lily who did not want to be contained. Mulder repeated the vows one more time.

“I, Mulder, take you, Scully,” he said, changing the words to better suit them, and there was no funny face, and no laugh. There was only a rightness to it, which washed gently over her and settled her nerves.

When the officiant told Mulder he could kiss the bride, he leaned into her slowly, and then wrapped his arms around her tightly, lifting her feet up off the floor. There were whoops and hollers from the small congress of witnesses, one of which she knew for sure was Charlie, and another she suspected might actually be Skinner.

When they darted out to the car after the ceremony, they were pelted with sunflower seeds which Scully didn’t realize until Mulder picked one gently out of her hair and popped it into his mouth.

They didn’t have a reception, just a small dinner at an Alexandria restaurant.

Scully watched the way Doggett and Reyes sat, heads bent together at the other end of the table and nudged Mulder.

He put his arm around the back of her chair whispered in her ear.

“There’s just something about that office, Scully.”

2

They had both left the X-Files once Scully was pregnant enough not to be out in the field anymore. Scully transferred to her old teaching position at Quantico, and Mulder “retired,” opting to write books for a few years while he finished his PhD, later opening his own practice.

They consulted often with their replacements and Mulder felt like he spent just as much time at various FBI facilities as he did at home working.

When the Lone Gunmen were killed and buried at Arlington National Cemetery, Mulder stepped away, eventually deciding that his consulting days were over.

A couple of years later, after William was born, they received an “It’s a Boy!”  congratulations card postmarked from Arlington, Virginia. It was blank, but for a monogram as a signature, which read simply “TLG.”

3

As a one-year wedding anniversary gift, Melissa Scully offered to take Lily off of their hands for a week if they promised to go somewhere warm and tropical. Mulder figured Scully had probably put her sister up to it -- or at the very least had her add the tropical addendum to her gift, but either way it was nice to get away from it all. He hadn’t slept in one day since becoming a father.

Melissa came to their door with a small suitcase and a giddy smile, eyes only for her niece. She was rewarded with a big, sticky hug.

Mulder already had their luggage loaded in the car, but Scully lingered in the doorway, she was having trouble saying goodbye.

“Scully, our flight is in exactly two hours and I know you like to get to the airport early,” he said. He would not go back inside himself or he’d have trouble leaving, too.

Finally, Scully gave Lily one last hug and said to her sister, “the terrible twos are a real thing, Missy. Call us if you need us.”

“We’ll be fine,” Melissa said, and ushered Scully outside, Lily perched on her hip. Then she called “I’m not offering when she’s a threenager!”

On their flight home, Mulder reached for Scully’s hand.

“I’m not spending that much money on a tropical vacation again, if we’re never going to leave the room.”

Scully wiped a finger down one side of her mouth and gave his lap a meaningful look.

“Worth it,” she said.

4

Mulder defended and received his PhD with little fanfare.

Scully made him a celebratory pie (sweet potato), and they sat down on their back porch to eat it with a bottle each of Shiner Bock once they had both kids down.

It was a beautiful spring night, a warm breeze wafting through the woods behind their house. Mulder could almost swear he could smell the cherry blossoms from the district.

He leaned back after finishing his slice in record time and let his fork clatter to his plate. He lifted the beer to his lips.

When he set the beer back down on the table, there was a small brown box wrapped in white ribbon sitting next to his empty plate. Scully smiled at him as she took a sip of her own.

When he opened it, he found the antique brass compass that had passed between them several times.

“Regifting, Scully?” he said to her, mirroring words she’d once said to him.

“Turn it over,” she lobbed back.

Above the old To finding our way... inscription, it now read “ To Dr. M.” He leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss.

When he sat back down and picked up his beer, she reached over with her own and clinked the necks of the bottles together.

“Doctor,” she said to him on a nod.

“Doctor,” he nodded back.

5

With their second child, Scully went into labor a month early. He’d been speaking at a conference in New York when an organizer pulled him aside as he was exiting the stage from his last panel and told him he had a phone call. It was Mrs. Scully, who sounded concerned but was trying to hide it. In the background he could hear a muffled TV and then a worried three-year-old “ Where’s daddy ?”

The train ride back to DC was torture. He was anxious, could barely sit still. He kept calling Mrs. Scully who said she didn’t know much -- they’d had to take Dana into a Labor & Delivery room and Lily was really bothered by the whole situation so she’d taken her home to her house. Melissa, who had planned to be Scully’s doula, was in San Diego with Bill.

Later, when he was holding the baby for the first time, Scully’s doctor came into the room. There had been some complications with the labor, but Scully hadn’t elaborated, and Mulder had been too elated to by the birth of his son to give it much thought.

The OB informed them that she didn’t think it was possible for Dana to have any more children.

While the doctor was going through the finer points of it, Scully reached out and squeezed his hand so hard it hurt. He could only hear the roaring of blood in his ears.

6

Scully thought “Crusher” was a ridiculous name for a cat. However, family tradition mandated that every pet be named after a female doctor and Will got naming rights on this one. He had recently gotten really into Star Trek .

The cat sat on the coffee table, as black and fluffy as her predecessor, but with a slightly more quarrelsome personality. Scully thought it was probably fitting being that their first born was about to be a freshly minted teenager.

Mulder came into the living room carrying an enormous bowl of popcorn with Lily on his heels, sulky as she plopped into an easy chair. Good grades had earned Will the Saturday evening activity of his choice and he’d opted for a family viewing of the first Lord of the Rings movie. No family member’s presence was optional and Lily loathed sci-fi/fantasy, much to Mulder’s dismay.

He set down the bowl, which Crusher nosed thoughtfully, and cut his eyes to his wife.  

“Will’s in charge of the ice cream,” he said, his eyes widening with a look of slightly anxious amusement.

“Is that wise?” Scully asked.

“No,” said Lily quickly with no small amount of sass, earning her a sharp look from her mother.

Will came in then balancing four tubs of Ben & Jerry’s and several spoons. He paused when he reached the coffee table and gave Mulder a significant look.

“They come in pints,” he said with a British accent, which launched Mulder into an uncharacteristic fit of hysterics. Lily rolled her eyes. Scully wondered what was so funny.

7

Scully had had one of the longest days on record, and if she walked into a messy house one more time, she swore she would walk directly up to her bathroom, climb into a hot bathtub and not get out until morning.

When she got to their front door, she could barely open it for the load of hockey equipment in front it.

“That’s it,” she said to herself.

She would have followed her oath to the letter if she hadn’t tripped on a cat toy halfway through the kitchen. Mulder and the kids were all parked in various spots around the room.

“You okay?” Mulder asked her, barely looking up.

Her silence spoke volumes and eventually the three Mulders in the house were looking at her with a kind of low grade fear.

“Why,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady, “am I the only person in this house who cleans it?”

Will opened his mouth to say something, but Mulder put a hand on the boy’s arm.

“The mop has a handle, not an access code,” she said, giving them each a cold glare before heading up the stairs. “I will be in the tub,” were her parting words.

When she came down a couple hours later, wrapped in a silk bathrobe and a significantly better attitude, she found the house spic and span, a rumpled looking Mulder sitting quietly at the kitchen counter nursing a Coke.

“The house looks great,” she said, and he smiled at her.

“We’ve implemented a few extra columns on the chore chart,” he said, “and I have a row now, too.”

She reached for the Coke and he handed it over.

“Got you something,” he said, and nodded at a lone parcel sitting on the countertop.

When she unwrapped it she found a hastily made homemade sign, made from what she could tell was scrap lumber that had been sitting around the garage. Painted on it were three words in three different handwriting styles. It read “Bless This Mess.” They had all signed it.

She felt her eyes start to tear.

“It’s hideous,” she said, and Mulder laughed. “You can hang it over there,” she sniffed.

It would hang in their kitchen for the rest of their days.

8

Lily was 17 and was just getting over the nightmarish huffy know-it-all stage of the early teens. Mulder and William—who had just hit the gawky, all arms and legs stage of adolescence—were sitting at the dining room table, taking apart Mulder’s old VCR. It had stopped rewinding and they had a plan to watch Plan 9 From Outer Space that night. Mulder swore the movie was better on video, so William swore it too.

“We’re missing a screw,” Mulder said to his son, who was in charge of keeping the various component parts together on the table.

“We’re not, I handed them all to you,” Will said.

Lily came skidding into the kitchen, grabbing the edge of the doorway to keep her balance.

“Dad,” she said, her voice tremulous and shaky. Mulder was on his feet before she finished saying his name. “There’s something wrong with mom.”

Mulder tore up the steps, the thundering steps of his children right behind him and skidded to a halt in the door of the master bath. Scully was on the floor--he couldn’t tell whether or not she was conscious.

“I heard a thump and I came in here and she was like this,” said Lily, nearly in tears.

“It’s okay, Lil,” he said distractedly, reaching forward to feel for a pulse on Scully’s neck.

When his fingers met her flesh, she inhaled deeply, and tried to sit up.

“Mulder?” she said, her eyes flickering open “what… what happened?”

“Honey, you passed out,” he said, giving her a hand to sit up.

She looked pale, but glanced over his shoulder at the worried faces of their two kids and said, “I’m okay guys.”

She did a self-assessment and convinced a not-really-convinced Mulder that she was fine, with the caveat that she go to the doctor first thing the next morning, and when she walked into the house after her appointment, she looked shocked and was shaking.

Mulder walked over to her and tipped up her chin to connect eyes.

“Don’t make me guess,” he said quietly.

Her eyes shone and she gave him a tentative smile.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

[lilly-and-alice]

OC Interview

As with Alice's, I was tagged by the lovely @lusus--naturae & @r0xy-w0lf.

I'm not tagging anybody for this one - but please feel free to join in if you want to.

Date of Interview: 1914

Name: "Elizabeth Mae James, but I go by Lilly"

Are you single: *Smiling as she looks over at Charles who's sitting across from her "No, I'm very happily married thank you"

Are you happy: *Hands resting on her baby bump while still grinning at Charles and their four children sitting around him* "I'd say this is the happiest I've ever been"

Are your parents still married: "No, Mama died when I was 4. As for my father? I last saw him when I was 14 "

Are you angry: "Not so much nowadays, but I'll admit, in the past I was a bit of a hothead"

Facts

Birthplace: "I was born out in the midwest somewhere. We moved around a lot so I don't actually know where exactly"

Hair color: "Red"

Eye color: ''Green''

Birth date: ''6th Dec 1873"

Current Mood: "Well as happy as I am to be carrying my 5th child, I'm so uncomfortable right now. I can't wait to be not pregnant again"

*Charles laughing* "I'll remind you of that when you tell me you're desperate to start trying for number 6.

Gender: ''Female''

Summer or winter: "Summer. The winters here in Canada can be too cold for my liking"

Morning or afternoon: "I've never been a morning person, but nothing better than a lazy afternoon"

Eight things about your love life

Are you in love: "With all my heart"

Do you believe in love at first sight: “No” *leans in and whispers while Charles is distracted by one of the kids* "I remember Dutch introducing Charles to the camp, but I didn't really pay much attention to him at first. I do remember him being around, but he never really spoke with anybody. It wasn't the gang started falling apart that I took the time to get to know him and honestly? It wasn't until he left the gang to help Rains Falls & the Wapiti that I realised I was falling in love with him"

Who ended your last relationship: “I did, it had gotten complicated and as much as me and John wanted it to work between us, I knew I had to remove myself from the equation so he could make his own decision about whether he wanted to try make it work with Abigail & Jack”

Have you ever broken someone's heart?: "You know, John later admitted to me that it almost killed him when I told him it was over, but he also told me thank you for making him see sense when it came to his family"

Are you afraid of commitment: "Not at all" 

Have you hugged someone in the last week: “Each of the kids and my handsome husband of course”

Have you ever had a secret admirer: *Charles butts in before Lilly even has chance to speak* "I was so nervous to speak to Lilly in those early days, I'd just find a quiet spot and watch her get on with her day. I do wish I'd had the courage to tell her sooner though"

"Me too...though just imagine how many more kids we'd have then"

Have you ever broken your own heart: “Making the decision to leave John was tough, but even tougher was the mistake I made, which caused the only real argument me & Charles ever really had and actually made us split up for a while..."

*Charles reaches her hand* "That's all in the past now Flower. We eventually got past it and we don't need to dwell on it"

Six Choices

Love or Lust: “Love - I mean the sex is incredible, but I'm happy just being in Charles' company”

Lemonade or Iced Tea: “Iced Tea? I'd rather have a hot tea to warm me up thank you ”

Cats or Dogs: “Dogs” 

A few Best friends or Regular Friends: “I still write to the likes of Tilly, Mary-Beth & Abigail. But honestly - I'd be lost without my best friend Allie constantly by myside"

Wild night out or romantic night in: “Oh my nights of getting drunk with Allie & starting a bar fight or two are well and truly behind me. Much prefer to be snuggled up in front if the fire "

Day or night: ’'Night, I like the quietness of the world”

Have You Evers

Been caught sneaking out: “Grimshaw used to have a habit of catching me in the act, trying to escape doing chores”

Fallen Down/Up the Stairs: “All the time, I'm quite possibly the clumsy person alive”

Wanted someone/something so badly it hurt: “I got everything I need right here”

Wanted to disappear: “You know, during my time in camp and everything that was going on between John & Abigail, I managed to persuade Hosea to let me travel around on my own for a while, to help clear my head and work out what I wanted from life. I'm glad I did or otherwise I'd never have met Allie”

Four preferences

Smile or eyes: “A good smile draws me in, but I feel you can see the real person by looking into their eyes”

Shorter or taller: “Preferably taller, but it doesn't matter either way”

Intelligence or Attraction: “I'm lucky I guess - I have a handsome husband who also happens to be incredibly intelligent.”

Hook up or Relationship: “I never was one for hooking up with random people, I'd much rather be in a relationship ”

Family

Do you and your family get along: “Me, Charles & the kids are quite content together. 

As for my other family members? Well, I have no idea where my father is these days, if he's still alive. And Alice? For the longest time I wanted nothing to do with this random girl turning up, claiming she's my sister. But fate had a strange way of pulling us closer together and now we keep in regular contact"

Would you say you have a messed up life: "Let me give you a list:

Was it messed up to lose my mother & brother when I was only 4 and then find myself travelling around the country with my father, sleeping in the back of a wagon most nights as he prepared for his next con?

Or what about being sold to my own grandmother when daddy felt he was unable to look after me?

Or when Grandmama passed away, her husband was considering carting me off to the nearest brothel because the cheap bastard didn't want the added expense of caring for me?

There's also the man who I thought I loved, leaving me to get attacked while he went off to spend the night with a whore..."

*sighs before a huge smile appears on her face as she casts an eye over at Charles, who's now reading a story to the kids*

"But you know? Each of those moments brought me one step closer to this wonderful life with Charles and our children"

Have you ever ran away from home: “It never felt like home, but leaving my step grandfathers house & running away with Van der Linde gang was best thing I ever did"

Have you ever got kicked out: “Like I said, back in the day, it was a mutual decision between me & Hosea to leave camp before I did something stupid."

Friends

Do you secretly hate one of your friends: “Why would I? Though Mary-Beth is a bit full of herself nowadays with her being a famous author and all”

Do you consider all of your friends good friends: “Of course I do. We might have done some questionable things in the past, but we had our reasons”

Who is your best friend: "I swear if you don't say my name right now" *Allie laughing from across the room*

"I guess there's your answer - my best friend is Allie Foster. Always been right by myside through thick & thin and most probably always will be”

Who knows everything about you: “Allie knows most things. But I don't hide anything from Charles either"

[stealinghero]

Can i get a scenario with zenigata and his boys coming to the hospital to see his s/o and their first daughter for the first time

It’s fluff, I think. Just a little insight of his totally normal life with his totally normal family. X3 (He already has 4 kids now! Poor Zenigata! XD But he loves them all!!)

~~~~~

He had been happy with three kids. But with a fourth on the way, he needed to calculate hard at the limit of his pay check to make everything work. It didn’t help that he still hadn’t been able to catch the man he was chasing around the globe. And with his superiors scolding him and three kids and a pregnant wife at home, he himself was at his limit.

Getting up at three in the morning was hard, but if your wife wakes you up with a calm expression, telling you that she will give birth soon, you just react. And he did. Two days ago, he had given the neighbour a call to watch the kids and he had witnessed the birth of his first daughter just hours later.

“Nee, Papa?”

“Hmm?”

“What is her name?”

He smiled and parked the car on the parking lot, surrounded by other patients and their families.

“She can tell you herself, I think.”

“But she’s a baby. Babies can’t talk.”

He chuckled.

“Maybe she’s smarter than you think.”

“Dad, we’re 8 years old. And we know how kids are made. And there is no way that she can talk.”

“Just wait and see, Kenji.”

~~~~

He was surprised at how loud his gentle knock sounded and the first thing when entering the room was apologizing to his wife who was already up and wandering around the room.

“I need to get out of here.”

“I know.”

“It’s making me crazy, Koichi.”

“I know.”

She stopped in her movements and looked at him before first snorting then laughing at her own behaviour. She stepped closer and kissed him lovingly on the cheek.

“I am too much for you, hm?”

“I love you and you could never be too much. And besides… we have her now.”

Tears of happiness welled in his eyes as he watched the small baby sleep.

“I brought the boys to get you back home.”

Her eyes got big and she rushed outside to welcome her three sons and tell them how much she had missed them.

Kenji and Taisuke were playing it cool, trying to get past her to see the newest family member, but when their mother hugged them, they had to cry. Three days without mother was still hard for them. Isami, now a bit over 2 years old, happily cooed at his mother and seemed pretty much content with his life.

Zenigata took this time and went straight to the little bed, watching his daughter in awe as he was too scared to touch her. He had been like this with every single one of his kids, holding them after birth was okay, but everything else? He could hurt her and would never forgive himself for that.

“Just take her. It’s your daughter after all.”

He smiled at those words and gathered his courage before he took the small child into his big arms.

“Papa said she can talk!”

“Yeah! We want to know her name!”

His wife laughed at those shenanigans and brought the boys into the room.

“A speaking baby? Then she must be really intelligent.”

The baby still slept, despite the commotion, so Zenigata kneeled before his family so that the twins could see the small pink band around the chubby wrist.

“How do you read it?” Kenji was more interested in the name, while Taisuke gently touched the small hand.

“Hello baby. I am your oldest brother, Taisuke. Welcome to our family.”

That was enough to make Zenigata full on cry as he watched his family with so much love that he needed to vent it somehow.

“Boys, this is your sister Emi.”

“Emi?”

“Written as blessed light,” Zenigata explained as he showed the two kanji to his sons.

The two parents had wanted to be surprised at birth and had thought about many possible names but until the birth of Emi her name was still undecided with her father choosing from three possibilities.  

“Can we take her home now?” Kenji pouted for not getting the full attention.

“Well, I have to talk to the doctor for a second and you can pack my things up, if you want.”

Zenigata nodded and let his wife walk out of the room before placing his first daughter back into her little bed and turning towards two of three sons.

“You heard her! Kenji, you take the bath. Taisuke, can you clean the cupboard over there?”

Both of them saluted with a grin and then vanished to do what had been asked of them, leaving their father alone with Isami and Emi.

“And we three think on how I transport all of you back home…”

A comfortable 5 person household now consisted of 6 and there was still the old car.

“I guess we have a new car?”

He blinked and stared at his wife who was holding a key and a small card.

“Someone left this for me to pick it up when I am discharged.”

He smiled. After every birth there had been a gift. Taisuke and Kenji had received a gift certificate over a huge amount for children’s clothing. And two years ago after the birth of Isami, there had been a new house.

For Zenigata it was clear who the anonymous spender was and he was grateful to have found a friend in his worst enemy. But still he sometimes had a bad conscience at taking those offers. This wasn’t right. But with now 4 kids, who was he to decline such a gift? He needed that car, even if it was paid with stolen money. And if wasn’t as if Lupin took it from the poor, right?

“Are you thinking about how to thank him?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

He shrugged and took the bags from his sons before he kissed his wife.

“Maybe the door of his cell isn’t fully closed next time.”

She nodded.

“The car is the most family friendly and safe model out there,” she read from the card.

“Only the best, hm?”

“Don’t be like that, Koichi.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are!” Sometimes it was scary how in sync his twins were when they chimed in his conversations with his wife.

“You two, take Isami and look for our new car.”

Something in his guts moved with a very bad premonition.

~~~~

The car was simple and big enough to fit his whole family. But it was the sticker on the back that confirmed his gut feeling.

Two adults, four kids and three little cats, one holding a knife, one with a hat and the third with a grin like a Cheshire cat.

[chobit92]

Home: Jacob Seed/OC Chapter 28

Warnings: Violence, Child Abuse, Rape, Drugs 

 (2 days later: Friday: Faith is sitting in Joseph’s church arranging flowers into bunches. Joseph is writing in a book. Just then Lexi walks in with a man.). Lexi: Faith your sister has agreed to join us. Faith: What? She has? How do you know? Man: You need to see this. (The man turns on the TV and tunes it to a channel. Faith gasps as she sees Mara on the screen sat in a chair. Her surroundings are dark but she can just make out where she is.). Faith: Is she... Man: John’s bunker. Lexi: Will saw it in the canteen he just came and told us. (Faith stands up and watches as Mara looks at the camera.). John: Are you going to confess? Mara: Yes. John: You will confess and you will atone? Mara: Yes. (Faith watches in shock as John moves into view. Faith gasps as John grabs Mara’s hair and yanks her head back. She then stares as John jams the screwdriver into her sisters neck making her bleed.). Lexi: John ain’t playing. Man: She don’t look too scared though. John: Confess. Mara: Just remember that you asked for it.

(John takes the screwdriver away from Mara’s neck and disappears from view. Mara sighs and looks at the camera.). Mara: Um...I don’t know if there’s a specific way of doing this. Things your meant to say. I’m just gonna start at the beginning. (Joseph is looking at the TV. Will walks in.). Will: Have you seen it? Faith: Yes. I don’t understand why he is broadcasting it. Will: I don’t know. Mara: Some of you may think I’m mad. Some of you might think I’m a monster. Maybe some of you will understand what I did. I was born to parents who did nothing but sell drugs and abuse. My mother always wished that she had just had an abortion. I was never wanted. By her or my father. She kept me locked in the basement. Coming into this bunker today was the hardest thing I’ve done in years. All I can see is that basement. Still hear my mom screaming about what a mistake I am. How useless I am. She believed that I was the devil. Hell maybe she was right. Faith: No sis she wasn’t. (Will rubs Faiths shoulder.). Mara: She would whip me until my back was red raw. She would starve me for days and give me no water. It was dark down there and damp. I was always cold, always hungry and always in pain. Alone in the dark. (Tears roll down Mara’s cheeks. Faith is also crying. Will puts his arm around her.). Will: You know what she did don’t you Faith? Faith: Yes. (Faith lets out a sob and buries her head in Wills Jacket.). Mara: I was never allowed out of the basement because my mother didn’t want anyone to know I existed. In fact nobody did. My mother never told anyone she was pregnant. She never went to a doctor. She gave birth at home. She said it was agony. That I was a little bitch for putting her through so much pain. As if I had somehow decided to be there. She told me that the pain was Gods punishment for giving birth to the devil. She was delusional. Probably all the drugs she took. I was surprised when my father let me out of the basement. It was a strange experience. Being kept underground then suddenly seeing the rest of the house. The window and...Outside. It was confusing. My dad was friends with the priest who used to run the church in Falls End. Some priest he was, turned out he liked children. He liked them a lot. Will: Ah hell. (Joseph is watching the screen with interest.). Mara: I didn’t like him second I saw him. The way he looked at me. The way he spoke. My dad told me to help my mom so I went to the living room. Mom was there and I helped her clean the living room then I was shoved back down in the basement. My sister wasn’t kept in the basement like me. She had her own room. I thought she was loved and cared for. John: You were jealous of her? Mara: No. Worse than that. I was happy for her. I thought she was loved and cared for. She wasn’t. Least in the basement I was left alone most of the time. My baby sister went through hell and I didn’t even know anything about it. I had no clue. That priest came down to the basement one day and started touching me. I had found a large nail, I was using it to draw on the wall. I stuck it in his face, took a load of skin off and left him with a nasty scar. He screamed. My mom came down and got real angry with me. Called me ‘Devil’ again. Then she carved the word into my back. I was six years old. Man: Damn. (Will lets out a breath. Faith is still crying.). Mara: My sister sometimes visited me in the basement. She would sneak me a drink or some food. I remember being so happy that she was okay. She was never dirty, always dressed nice. While my parents were out we would sit and talk to each other for ages. We would play games and cuddle. Over time me and my sister grew close. She was sad that I was kept in the basement. But I looked forward to her visits. When I was a teenager I was finally let out of the basement. I think my mom hoped I would leave the house and not come back. My father told me to piss off to my face. ‘Go on go you little bitch’ he spat. I finally got to see the world. Well...Hope County anyway. It was hard at first. Especially talking to people. But I met some nice people who became my friends. Most people knew who my parents were. They were the ones that dealt drugs to everyone. Even young kids who were still in school. I learned that the drugs my dad sold had already killed two kids. I wondered why the police hadn’t arrested him. Turned out the Sheriff at the time and my dad were best mates. Just like he was best mates with the priest too. Could get away with whatever he wanted. I finally thought that things could be okay. I’d managed to make friends and I was finally out of the basement. I still had to sleep down there though. I thought that once I was a bit older I could take my sister and go. Get our own place together. It’s amazing what you think is possible when you’re a kid. When I was fourteen my sister told me that she was being bullied at school. She showed me bruises on her ribs and a cut on her arm where they’d attacked her. So I went up the school when it finished and waited. I saw my sister walking out and then I saw them. Three of ‘em. One of ‘em grabbed her and pulled her hair while the other one pulled out a little flick knife. I marched over to them and punched the first one. I got the knife off the other one and stuck it in his arm. He was crying like a baby. The other one ran off. Oh my mom was furious when she heard what I’d done. Locked me back in the basement after whipping me again. The boys didn’t bully my sister again though. When I was fifteen my parents went away for the weekend. They took my sister with them and left me on my own. (Mara sighs.). Mara: It was Saturday night and I was looking around the house. I’d found my dad’s whiskey and decided to have some. I was looking around upstairs and that’s when I found them. In my parents’ wardrobe there was a box of tapes. I was curious as to what they were, they didn’t have anything written on them. Curiosity killed the cat though right? I couldn’t believe what I was watching. My baby sister being violated over and over again by my dad and that priest. My mom was there watching. Who does that to their daughter? In the first video she could only be about six. There were over thirty tapes. All filled with images of my baby sister being raped repeatedly. I couldn’t watch it all. I went to the church in Falls End. He looked surprised when he saw me. He looked even more surprised when he saw the kitchen knife I’d bought with me. (Will sighs. Faith is still crying quietly.). Mara: I lost count of how many times I stabbed that dirty raping bastard. I should have cut his dick off. He had this ornate cross on his table. I don’t really know what made me do it but I thought it was fitting. I picked up the cross and shoved it through his chest. Then I went back home. The priest wasn’t found until the morning. Sunday. Church day. Not that day. Church was closed, surrounded by crime scene tape. Who would do such a thing? (Mara laughs.). John: You let your anger take control of you. Your sin is wrath. Mara: Yeah. You can put the screwdriver down though. I ain’t finished yet. I walked around town and listened to what everyone was saying about the grisly murder. I even heard that people were coming forward to say that the priest had abused them. He hadn’t just done it to my sister. He was a paedophile. Not a priest. I ended up hanging out with Wheaty in the woods. I didn’t get home until late. My parents were back by then. They had heard about their beloved friend being killed. My father had lost his temper. He thought it was all my sisters fault. My father was worried that they would find drugs in the church and other things...When I came home my father had beaten my sister so badly I could hardly recognise her. She was curled up in the corner of the lounge sobbing. Her little dress was covered in blood. She had a lot of broken bones, her jaw, her nose. She was broken. So was I, I guess. I was tired. I’d had enough. Seeing my sister like that was awful. I was supposed to protect her. I had one fucking job. I failed. My dad noticed that I was back and he started shouting and swearing at me. Then he said that he would drown me first. Mom was upstairs running the bath. She was going to drown my sister. (Faith is sobbing.). Mara: I wasn’t going to fail her again. I went to the kitchen and got the knife. Same one I used on the priest. I went back to the lounge and my dad just stared at me. I told him I was the one who killed his friend. Gave him what he deserved. He said he always knew I was a head case. That I wasn’t normal. That I was different. A mistake. He said I was nothing but demon spawn. So I thought alright then...I’ll show him then. My father started yelling that I was done for now. He’d drown me himself and nobody would know coz nobody really knew I existed. I then did the unthinkable, the unforgiveable, the ultimate sin. I started stabbing my father. Will: Jesus. Man: My God. Mara: My sister could only watch in horror screaming from the floor as I stabbed daddy again and again. My mother came flying down the stairs and she screamed when she saw what I had done. She pointed at me and screamed ‘I knew it, Devil’. I guess you can’t kill a monster without becoming one. I stabbed my mother repeatedly before slitting her throat. My sister was crying and I hugged her and told her everything was going to be fine. I called an ambulance for my sister. When they saw my parents they were horrified. The police arrived a little while later. My sister was screaming for me. Begging for me not to be taken away. I told her I loved her and that I’d see her again. I thought I was going to prison but oh no. They thought I was insane. They found out I’d killed the priest too. I was placed in a psychiatric facility. I was released when I was eighteen. I was stunned. I never thought I’d see the light of day again. Seemed a bit stupid to me. I told them I’d been locked in a basement for years. So what do they do? Why they lock me in a tiny room of course. Coz that makes sense. I had nowhere to live and no money so...I lived on the streets. I was sleeping in an abandoned apartment block that had turned into a den for junkies and gang members. The leader of the gang was always there dealing drugs. One day though I noticed that he had two young girls handcuffed to an old bed with a rusty frame. I spoke to them. Turned out they had run away from their abusive parents. Sisters. They reminded me so much of my sister and me. They were just trying to get somewhere better. They didn’t though. Ivan was the leader of the local gang. Into all kinds of shit. Nobody messed with him. Those that did ended up dead. One of the girls was seventeen the other was twelve. I didn’t want to get involved. I was on my own and had myself to look out for. But later that night I saw a man in the room with Ivan and the girls. He was handing Ivan a large wad of cash and the girls were crying. Their trousers were around their ankles. Ivan was selling them to dirty pervs. Pimping them out. I weren’t having that. You should know what happened next John. Seeing as you know me well by now. John: You killed them. Mara: Yeah. That’s where I got the revolver from. I took it from Ivan. Then I used it to help the girls escape after stabbing Ivan and the perv. One of Ivan’s mates always watched the door of the crack den. Knew he wouldn’t just let us leave. He had a gun too. He raised it to shoot me but luckily for me I was quicker. Shot him in the head. His blood spattered the wall and I didn’t even care. I still don’t. I gave the girls the money that perv had given to Ivan and told them about a shelter I knew about that wasn’t far. I hope they went there. I hope they were okay. I met Franky not long after and we hung out for a bit just trying to get by on the streets. Until she buggered off. Then I met Bonnie and Alex and stayed with them. I kept looking for my sister. Came here seven years ago then again four years ago. I always hoped to find her. I hoped to see her again and I did. Came back here and met up with her again. Killed more people. Thirteen members of the Whitetail Militia. Also killed that guy that came to your ranch and threatened to shoot us. It gets hard to keep count after a while. I am a killer. That’s it. Now I am going to be that psycho girl again that everyone looks at funny. The girl that killed her parents. Coz you know there must be something wrong with me right? I must be insane. Normal people don’t kill people. Except they seem to forget that way back when they probably did. All the time. People have always killed people. We’re good at destruction. It’s what we do. (Mara finally stops talking. She just sits there looking blank.). John: That is your full confession? Mara: That’s everything. John: No other sins? Mara: Not that I know of. Ain’t got anything to be greedy with and I have no Lust in my life. Ain’t never even had a boyfriend. Never will neither. Not now. Can’t have much pride coz I hate myself. John: Hm. I see. (The camera moves and John’s face can now be seen. He smiles.). John: I told you dear Faith that your sister would join us. That she would say yes. (Faith gasps.). John: You might not want to watch this next part though. (The video feed suddenly disappears and ‘No Signal’ now displays on the blank screen. Faith lets out a whimper and Will wraps his arms around her.

 ---Jacob sits in the makeshift mess hall of the veterans center. Terry came racing into his office telling him about the broadcast. Everyone sat watching as Mara confessed to John. Jacob couldn’t stop staring at her. He tells himself that he is intrigued by her. The way she has killed without hesitation that’s all that draws him to her. Nothing else. She would probably be no good to him anyway. Not really. Not like his men. She wouldn’t be able to pass the trials. She is pretty though. He can’t deny that. So beautiful. He tries to remember what she felt like. What she smelled like but he can’t. He barely remembers much about that night. Only that he fucked her. That she cried his name and called him a grizzly bear. He gets up and goes back up to his office. He sighs as he flicks through the days reports. He didn’t get much sleep last night and he is tired. He struggles to sleep. He didn’t struggle when Mara was sleeping next to him though. He didn’t have any nightmares either. He sighs and picks up the report about the latest Militia sightings.

  ---John walks into Josephs church. Faith looks up her eyes red from crying. Joseph stands up and greets him.). Faith: Why did you broadcast it? John: Your sisters confession? I thought you would want to see it. Faith: How did you get here so quickly? John: I didn’t. Faith: But we were just watching you with my sister in your bunker. John: That was filmed two days ago. It wasn’t live. Faith: Two days...Where is she now? John: I don’t know. After her atonement I baptised her in the river. I also gave her the Edens Gate tattoo. She wanted it on the back of her neck. Then she left for the Whitetail Mountains. She said she was going to collect her things then meet up with you in the Henbane. Faith: I haven’t seen her. John: Hm. I’m sure she’ll be back. She wouldn’t leave you. She cares for you too much. Faith: I know.

 ---11.23pm. Mara stumbles into the bathroom. She groans in pain and wipes the dirty mirror and pulls her top down. She stares at the word ‘Wrath’ carved across her chest. She sighs. Now she hates her body even more. The word ‘Devil’ on her back along with all the scars from the whip now this. Tears sting her eyes. John has serious issues. He enjoyed slicing into her skin. He enjoyed the way she cried out in pain. She didn’t mind the pain. She has found that she likes it. That’s why she cuts herself sometimes. But she didn’t scream though. Wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. She still isn’t sure about John. He seems to honestly believe that he has helped her. Saved her. She almost wishes he had drowned her in the river. For a moment she thought he was going to. He held her under way longer than was necessary. She winces as she runs a damp cloth over her chest. Damn is it sore. She also rubs the back of her neck which itches slightly from the latest tattoo John has given her. The black cross logo of Edens Gate. There’s no going back now. She is officially a member whatever the hell that means. She goes back to the kitchen area and puts her things in her holdall. She doesn’t own much. Her drawings and pens, some clothes and shoes, the iPod that Franky gave her that she can’t charge. She grabs the blanket from the bed and shoves it into the holdall. She just about manages to fit it in there. She then slings the holdall across her body but it rubs against the scarring on her chest. She moves it so that it is over her shoulder. She takes one last look around the trailer. She sighs then opens the door. She stops dead when she sees several militia standing outside with their guns aimed at her.). Man: Time to die peggie bitch!

[momo-de-avis]

Wordtober Day 6: Build 2.0

Yall, I cheated. And am also late. I couldn’t get anything done with ‘husky’, so I decided to prolonge my previous prompt, as the last one didn’t give me room to fully explore my idea. So... be warned that this is... quite long. Possibly very long. I leave that up to you.

It’s a continuation of this one

𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚞𝚒𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚓𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟸𝟻𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟷, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝙿𝚊𝚣.

Dani and I had done this before, many times. We’d had our fair share of paranormal investigation—sometimes just plain investigation—and most of the times, it even amounts to nothing, if not a slight disruption of a picture or the ‘mysterious noises’ turning out to be either stray cats or a group of teenagers setting a horror movie set for strangers. But the Maduro case was peculiar to us. It was Dani who suggested we’d investigate the Maduro case, and she always did seem rather curious about the outlines of the case.  

We did the needed investigation before we got there. Aside from some news articles, there was the original 1983 police report, which looks… sloppy, rushed, and honestly, not like they were even trying at all. The majority of the photos vanished, supposedly lost in mishandling of paperwork, except three—the ones well known—and both disappearances were chalked up under ‘runaway children’, despite the fact that Samuel Maduro was 15 and Aura 28 at the time of each of their disappearances.

We knew the house had belonged to Aura after her parents, and before that, to Amelia and Augusto Maduro, the grandparents, who used to own a quarry up until 1939, when they sold their part of the business to Mr Maduro’s partner. At the time, we couldn’t really find the reason why they sold it, though what we did conclude afterwards is nothing short of speculation, so we just assumed it to be some sort of financial strain. There was a civil war going on, though we couldn’t find confirmation on the Maduros’ political affiliations, nor is their village located anywhere close to where the war hit, but… War always does bring about hard times, so it wasn’t at all that inane.

What was surprising was finding our first clue that contradicted the original 1983 report. Though Claudia Maduro, mother of both Samuel and Aura, suffered from a lifelong heart disease and eventually died four years after her son’s disappearance—a time spent between check-ups and several psychiatric consultations—the father’s death, Francisco Maduro, does seem related to the case.

He appears to have lived the last ten years of his life as a recluse, and the only visits he ever had were a gardener—who helped around with the backyard—, a maid—mostly responsible for doing his laundry, some cooking and cleaning—, and a man named Antonio. He was the last one to see Mr Maduro alive, though his name wasn’t even mentioned in the original report.

According to Antonio, when he arrived at the house that afternoon, Mr Maduro was in a state of distress. He had set up a ladder to go up the attic and was going up and down frequently, to fetch several items, all of which he recognized as being used for construction purposes: toolboxes, measuring tapes, rope, sandpaper. Of this, Antonio reportedly joked for a while, asking him if he was building something, or maybe fixing a piece of furniture, but Mr Maduro was majorly unresponsive, instead appearing focused on his task. He simply kept mumbling: “The animals keep tearing it down.”

It must have been shortly after he left that Mr Maduro fell off his ladder, approximately two meters high, hitting his head on a rock and being found hours later by the maid, who had him rushed to the hospital, where he died an hour later.

Here’s what’s so appalling about this. Looking at the original police records, there were no interviewed. It looks like the police simply asked no questions to anyone, no acquaintances of the family, no friends, no neighbours. Every evidence was gathered from inside the home, and every conclusion reached without taking into consideration the village itself. At first, we thought they had been careless—ridiculously careless, mind you—but as our days went on and we tried speaking to others, it became clear just what the real reason was.

The villagers avoided the Maduros because they were afraid of them.

Overall, it seems neither Aura nor Samuel—nor their parents, for that matter—were particularly hated, rather ostracized by what the villagers saw as a need. The priest at the time, one father Ángel, even did his best to include the two children in his community, and we did find several photos of Samuel carrying the podium of Santa Marina during one of its processions. Both siblings appear to have been devout Catholics too: crucifixes and rosaries were found in both rooms, as well as prayer books and Bibles, they attended church regularly, got involved with the community and celebrated every day of the calendar.  

The problem was not Samuel and Aura, nor Francisco and Claudia—the Maduros’ dark history was older than that.

There was one fundamental piece to their history that everyone completely overlooked, which wasn’t on records for reasons that, for a while, seemed mysterious enough, though it became clear as we unravelled the story. Francisco Maduro, grandfather of both Aura and Samuel, disappeared without a trace in 1939, immediately after selling his part of the quarry.

After searching through records, old newspapers and considerably angering the locals, all we found was one newspaper clipping, though not an article. It was an ad, an announcement, posted by the local police, asking villagers to please notify them if they new anything about Mr Maduro’s whereabouts. And nothing more. The only way to understand what had happened was by asking, and by now, we knew nobody would say a word about it, so we thought Antonio would perhaps collaborate.

By all means, it must be said: Antonio had a bit of a drinking problem, and we might have bargained in that sense. I’m not terribly proud of it, but in my defence, he looked desperate to talk, like he had kept something buried so deeply he waited years to finally speak up. Though I wasn’t expecting a confession exactly. After all, Antonio was, in his own words, Francisco’s best friend, though the two weren’t as close in adulthood as they had been in childhood. And like the Maduros—maybe because he appeared to be the only one in the village who didn’t fear going near the house—he was a bit of an outcast.

He told us that Amelia Maduro was far from being a heart-warming woman. He recalls her posture from childhood, which I think can be seen in the pictures found inside one of the locked rooms of the house: haughty, stern, impeccable. She seldom smiled, and her face bore something grievous to it, a chiselling of austerity that made children everywhere tell stories of her beatings and whippings. She was very pious too, at times too severe in her belief, and her doctrine was an imposing one. Antonio recalls an event from childhood, after visiting Francisco one afternoon: she had stopped a maid on her tracks, taken a step back and inspected her outfit; then, she had asked why was her skirt three fingers above the knee, to which the maid, flustered, replied she had to borrow her sister’s, who was younger, considering she had found a hole in hers that morning. Then, without warning, Amelia slapped the young woman across the face and said: “I will not have whores serving me.” And she fired her.

This might be explanatory to what truly seems to be the reason behind the quarry issue. Shortly before, Francisco Maduro became romantically involved with a supposed worker at the quarry, a woman who would bring refreshments to the men on the field every afternoon. It turns out, however, the woman was Pilar Deocampo, niece of Alfredo Deocampo—Francisco’s business partner. She became pregnant and decided to plan an escape with the aid of Francisco, who was supposed to meet with her after dealing with some logistics as to not leave his family with no support, but the plan failed when Amelia discovered their affair. When Pilar gave birth to baby boy in 1939, things took a grim turn.

From here on, Antonio swears, the story has become folklore, but the vast majority of the villagers strongly believe it to be true, and stands as the reason for them to stay away from the Maduros and their home. Amelia, without her husband’s knowledge—who was away for a few days—invited poor Pilar for some afternoon tea, under the guise of friendship and empathy before her condition—unmarried and with a son borne from a married man. How it happened differs, since nobody was present if not one maid who left the house immediately after, but on one thing all tales are consistent: Amelia killed the child in front of his mother, proclaiming that her act was justified before God because it was in God’s plans to cleanse the earth of sinners, and that the child was impure and shouldn’t have been born either way.

In a fit of rage, Pilar Deocampo attempted to injury Amelia, but failed to. As a result, Amelia inflicted several wounds on the grievous mother, who bled out in her living room. Many say Mrs Maduro watched, untouched by her very own gruesome actions, and in her dying breath, Pilar Deocampo uttered one last thing, something the village now chants as much as a curse as a reminder: Mi sangre marcará tu tierra, y mis huesos serán tu mausoleo. Por cada uno que pierdas, un otro quedará en sofrimiento, y como las árboles de tu finca, vosotros marchitarán lentamiente.

My blood will mark your land, and my bones will be your mausoleum. For each one you lose, another will stay in suffering, and like the trees of your property, you will wither away slowly.

Amelia then proceeded to force her very own maids into taking the body to the nearby forest, dig up a grave and bury them; then, she placed the two pillars with the chain to forbid anyone from going into the area, and never spoke of the subject again—until her husband arrived home the next day. Seeing the maids scrubbing blood from the wooden floorings, he inquired his wife as to what had happened. Amelia didn’t spare any details; in fact, many agree she was quite assured in her grim account, believing hers had been a righteous act.

Francisco Maduro then, in a frenzy of grief and despair, ran into the woods to see it for himself, to see the grave of his beloved and his child—and he crossed the space between the two pillars. He was never seen again.

Amelia would die less than ten years later, and despite everything, many agree she was incredibly grievous of her husband’s disappearance and entirely devoted to her faith. The Maduros then became a cautionary tale—it’s unclear to me whether or not Francisco witnessed this event, considering he would be around 18-20 at the time, but the tale became part of the villages’ folklore so much he became a person they willing avoided. Antonio swears, however, that both Aura and Samuel were entirely unaware of this past.

From the story came a legend, one the villagers believed to be real, from the case of Samuel and Aura Maduro’s disappearance. Anyone who crossed the space between the two pillars would find the secret burial place of Pilar and her child; keeping her promise, it seems a Maduro would always be bound to find the place in one way or another, and it was none other than Pilar who called them, leaving someone else behind to suffer for their absence, until no Maduros were left.

It seems Pilar achieved her goal, then.

This also explains something about the house, something Aura herself spoke of in her last journal entry: that there was an overwhelming sadness to it, something bittersweet that didn’t seem to belong there. If the path itself sent a shiver down our spines, and there always seem to be something lurking between the trees when we looked, inside the house we felt… safe. Dani even recalled feeling this sudden pang of sadness which she described as being ‘like a mother losing her child’. At the time, I laughed it off, told her she was just missing her cat, but after Antonio told us the tale, we… froze in dread, to be honest.

Energy like this is nothing new—the spirits of those who died inside the place always leave some speck of it behind, and we feel it like something external. We thought it strange at first because no Maduro had died inside the home that we knew of: Francisco at the hospital, Claudia at the local market, Samuel and Aura vanishing, and as far as we could tell, with Francisco also vanished, Amelia died while in mass of a heart attack. But it started making sense then: the only people who had died inside the house were not members of the Maduro. It was their pain we felt, and consequently, that Aura felt.

Dani and I weren’t sure what to expect of this, but it certainly explained why all those who had tried finding the clearing described by Aura never did—because they went around the two pillars, not through them. We had come all this way to find answers, so we figured there was only one thing to do.

I think we were naïve. We believed the tale was only a tale, and if any of it was to be taken for truth, it was certainly aimed at the cursed—the Maduros, not us, mere wanderers. But… we were wrong.

I took a recorder and a camera with me, while Dani took a photographic digital camera. For a while, we stood before the two pillars in silence and tried telling ourselves it was fine, perfectly fine, it was just a piece of local folklore based on Catholic devotion of two women, one a sinner, the other scorned. We’d heard many like that, and it seemed improbable the clearing even existed in the first place. So we held our hands—though why, I can’t exactly tell—and we leapt over the chain.

Every single one of Aura’s words travelled back to me. She was right. It was… daunting. Shapes hovered about, escaping my sight constantly, caught only from the corner of my eyes, and the dense vegetation closed around us. There was a horrible silence all around—more of an absence of sound—and we couldn’t even hear our own heart beats. The sun struggled to transverse the heavy foliage, and the air was thick and prickly. Dani snapped a few photographs as we trod on, but it was clear she was aiming at nothing specifically, just frantically moving her camera with a gasp and a jitter, frightened by a sudden movement from which came no sound. Even the snapping twigs and crunching leaves beneath our feet seemed muffled.

After thirty minutes, we stopped. Before us, the space opened widely, and trees sprouted from a bald batch of white and brown earth, entwining together above our heads like a gable roof. Dani stopped, her camera frozen between her hands, but her eyes were glazed into a sort of mania I had never seen before. With a shuddering finger, she pressed the shutter, but didn’t look into the screen, just ahead—contemplating, focused. Her arm lowered then, and I called her name; Dani jittered, blinked and looked down at the photo she had just snapped—frozen and pale.

When she showed me photos, my heart sank to my feet. Every single one of them was so corrupted almost all of them were unusable, but a few of them showed something buried beneath the static corruption. Shadows, figures, silhouettes. A pair of baby feet. Faces, hollow and daunting, frozen into a scream.

I pressed my recorder, but it didn’t seem to work; Dani pressed some buttons on her camera but suddenly halted, and her eyes—glazed once more—cast curiously all around. She gave a step forward, and another, and a few more—all considerate and cautious, though they grew, and unexpectedly, she took her backpack off her shoulders and threw it on the ground; she dashed ahead, her hands diving deep into a bush, rummaging through meshes of thorny foliage, and a faint yet vivid laughter escaped her lips.

I called her in screams, but she did not react. At this point, I was terrified and could not move; all I could see was Dani dashing back and forth, stacking sticks under her arms and wiping the centre of the clearing clean, hands covered in white and brown dust—until I realized what she was doing.

I remembered Aura’s account. She was building something.

I shouted again, telling her to stop, as loud as I could, but this time, I couldn’t freeze. I ran to her, wrapped my arms around her when she began to struggle, and with all my might, held her steady, face buried against my chest. She smacked her fists at me, but I persisted, desperately trying to keep her still. I thought then that all it mattered was that she wouldn’t see, she wouldn’t look at the clearing, at that spot where she was feeling somehow compelled to build. I closed my eyes shut, and wind gushed past—no sound still. And I waited.

I opened my eyes first, didn’t let Dani move, and froze again. Before me was a house—small, no higher than a meter and a half tall—made of something white, polished and scraped to precision. Bone.

Stood in a moment of suspension, my arms relaxed, and my fingers stopped gripping Dani’s clothes. Her body shuddered against mine, and her breath raged louder than the gushing wind around us, louder than any sound in that deathly and hollow clearing. Then, she screeched—a gasp that grew in timbre, a rising cadence that somehow seemed to come far slower than I took notice of, and she jolted herself. In a motion faster than I could have anticipated, her body escaped my grip, and she ran—she ran away from me, towards the bone house that rose before us, without really having actually seen it before turning her head with resolution and dashing away.

I tried to grab her, but she escaped; her hands smacked open at the door, and on her knees, she crawled; her panting, heavy and desperate, came like an omen. She was famished for whatever exited beyond it, and I tried to stop—I screamed and ran after her, but she was elusive and fast and set on getting through that door and into the darkness that sucked her in and in and in—and I was too slow. Inside the door, nothing but blackness—swirling, consuming blackness—and as Dani entered the daunting absence of it, she evaporated from her very being. It was like watching someone being devoured by an invisible mouth that swallowed her into nothingness, and her every gesture came with so much reassurance I finally understood what Pilar Deocampo had warned: one always stays behind to suffer.

It wasn’t just meant for the Maduros; it was meant for anyone who desecrate her grave.

When the door slammed shut with a hollow thud, I collapsed to my knees and screamed her name, over and over until nothing existed inside my throat but the soreness of my efforts and the saltiness of my tears. There was not a sound. The entire space around me was engulfed in nothingness. I couldn’t see nor hear Dani anywhere, and before me, the house made of bone appeared far too small for her body to fit inside.

I curled up, and though the terror that had consumed me and made my heart pound so harshly my chest hurt, I couldn’t move. I grabbed the camera, but was unable to turn it off. By my side, Dani’s backpack laid forgotten, tossed aside in a rush. I had studied the Maduro’s case to the smallest detail and I knew she wouldn’t come back. And I finally understood what it was that had consumed Aura in such overwhelming grief, enough to make her leave her home and never come back, until her father passed away and she realized—she must have—he too crossed the space between the two pillars. I finally understood what madness had possessed Amelia after her grim crimes.

It was knowing they weren’t dead, but sentenced to absolute nothingness, left to hover in a sea of absence and non-existence, spiralling down to possible madness. It was knowing they were better off dead.

I blinked my teary eyes open, cold and trembling, hands gripping the camera, and saw something. The house was still there, but next to it, someone: sitting on the ground, back turned to me, legs crossed and shoulders slouched forward, clothes ragged and torn, and in their long auburn hairs, small leaves and twigs were caught in the slender threads. Instinctively, I turned the camera and snapped a quick picture—but the figure didn’t move.

My eyes didn’t move away from the strange figure in front of me, and as I put the camera down, I realized it could only be one person.

“Aura Maduro?”

Her head rose slowly, as if she tried to have a look at the skies, hairs swaying behind her, but she said nothing. Then, I felt it again—that same pressing sadness we always felt inside the house, like a mass of air that swarmed around me, emanating from the spectre before me.

“Where is Dani?” My voice was low, considerate; I looked at the figure and I still saw who I had seen in Aura Maduro the moment I had arrived there—a victim, as much as I was now. “Can you please bring her back to me?”

Immobile. Time passed, though I couldn’t measure, couldn’t tell how long it had been, if it was night or day though the sun existed somewhere in the sky—of that, I was sure. Then, her voice floated in the air, a ragged tune, husky and dragged, but frayed by an overwhelming agony that consumed me like a gust of wind.

“She has to stay.”

My breath rose and whipped the back of my throat; I moved restlessly, but couldn’t leave the small batch of earth on which I knelt. “Please,” I pleaded. “Please, just let me take her home.”

“El sangre marca la tierra,” she spoke, “y sus huesos son nuestro mausoleo.”

“I know what Pilar did to your family.” Every word seemed senseless to me, as if I read from a book: reciting a prayer in order to save myself, though unsure I was there was any salvation left. I wanted to say more, let her know that I understood that misery that encompassed us both, that exuded out of her like a cold wind—but every word died.

“One always stays,” she said, “and the other feels pain. But I look after them.”

I felt my chest tear open in that same sweeping sadness—it was something carved deep into her words, something instilled in the worn-out tone of her voice.

“I look after them,” she continued—and in between her words, a dissonance came: of a woman that wept in silence, the distortion of a throat filled with swallowed tears, “so they don’t feel so lost.”

Defeated, I looked down at the earth beneath me, at last understanding what never-ending horror Pilar Deocampo had cast on the world, that projected grief that would never cease, a continuous cycle of pain and terror—meant forever to steal and burden those who lived, who came out unscathed, to unfathomable pain.

I thought there was something I had to say, though I sincerely don’t know what my reason was: “What can I do?”

Her hand waved in the air, and from the ratty long-sleeves of her jersey, a slender finger, bony and pale, pointed to her left. I noticed there was a watch, glass cracked and black bracelet, with gold rims around. “Take him,” she said. “Let Sam rest.”

The order was immediate, and somehow, I understood. I stood, paced slowly towards the area she had pointed at—below a tall tree, at a small mound covered in pine needles and dried leaves, a batch of golden-brown amidst a soft green. I knelt, pushed the leaves aside, dug my fingers into the earth, and shuddered at the touch of something cold, harsh and angular. A hand, made of bones entirely, no flesh left, emerged—and when I understood at last what she demanded of me, I nearly vomited—sure I was completely incapable of completing the task.

I didn’t look back; short of breath, lungs collapsing at every sweeping movement of my hand, I didn’t rest. When I was done, a putrid smell filled my nose and I covered it with one arm; I ran back then, to Dani’s abandoned backpack, and rummaged for something useful enough for the rest of the deed. We had both brought our sleeping bags, expecting to perhaps spend the night to collect some evidence—so I unrolled Dani’s, pulled the zipper open, and with a force I hadn’t felt before in my life, unsure still where it came from—an urgency of survival, perhaps, or something outside of myself, cast upon me by Aura Maduro—I grabbed the pile of bones and put them inside the sleeping bag.

She was still there when I was done, her hand resting on her lap again. I stopped, stared at her with a cold shudder—whether of dread or something else, I can’t say anymore. Aura Maduro—what was left of her—simply sat in contemplation, her head still raised as she stared at something ahead, and only then did her words echo in my brain in full meaning. I grabbed my backpack, put the sleeping bag carefully on Dani’s, and stared at her. I had almost forgotten about the bone house.

“Do not return,” she said. “You won’t resist next time.”

Somehow, there was an unpronounced message in the air, something that wafted by like a tune carried from the distance, something you only notice when you stop and listen carefully: I am sorry you will have to suffer like we all did. I am sure that was it. Somehow, the precision existed in the tone of her voice, exuding out of her like a radio wave meant to be captured; somehow, I knew.

I walked back—ran back—and once I leapt over the chain, almost instantly, the air was weightless, soft and comforting. But everything else—my entire existence—began to press against my shoulders into a burden that was only now beginning to emerge. Guilt. Terror. Sadness. Crushing, overwhelming sadness—and Dani’s inexistence, her sentence into nothingness, collapsed over me.

It goes without saying I never saw her again.

I buried Samuel Maduro in the backyard of the house, and with nothing to mark his grave, I simply left, on the mound of earth, a framed picture I had found in the house—of Samuel and Aura. In it, she was wearing a wristwatch, black bracelet with golden rims.

I left and never went back. Though sometimes there is a burning wish to grab my things and drive until I see them again, the two pyramidal pillars with that creaking chain between, I never did. I think of Aura’s words, her blooming sadness, and something about it breaks my heart to pieces. The last of a cursed family, unknown of what she carried. On the night she had finally returned to her brother, in 1983, she had sacrificed far more than I could have anticipated. Cast into nothingness forever, sentenced to exist in a limbo of non-existence, forever imprisoned in the blackness of the bone house, she had willingly become a guardian. A watchful soul over those who fell victim to Pilar’s treachery—unable to put an end to it, she had at least given herself to the chance of easing their burden, making that consuming nothingness a bit more bearable. The core of it is, however, what it means to the two last members of the Maduro family.

I was never religious. I still am not. But they were stark Catholics, born and raised between catechesis and Saturday mass. For them, being sentenced to a limbo that is neither death nor life, neither Heaven nor Hell, and something far worse than purgatory… It must be horrifying.

I destroyed my camera and the footage, as well as the tape recorder I took with me, though there was nothing in it. I couldn’t bear, however, to destroy Dani’s digital camera. It was a piece of her, and every little thing that attested to her existence, I just… held on to it.

It was only months later that I turned that camera on again. To my surprise, there was a picture I had never seen—the last one I had taken, of Aura Maduro herself.

I can’t describe it. I will leave it to your eyes to see what lacks words entirely. Perhaps you can understand what it that I felt that afternoon.

I wish I could tell Dani how sorry I am.

________

𝙻𝚞𝚒𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚓𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟶𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟷. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚔, 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚛 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚓𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝙿𝚊𝚣.

𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝙿𝚊𝚣 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍.

𝙰 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚢𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚐. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚂𝚊𝚖𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍.  

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚛 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚓𝚘’𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 

_________________

Wordtober Day 1: Ring

Wordtober Day 2: Mindless

Wordtober Day 3: Bait

Wordtober Day 4: Freeze

Wordtober Day 5: Build I

[this-nightmare-doesnt-exist-yet]

Living on a farm upstate where the flowers used to grow [part 1]

Warning: this is a cosmic horror short story series. Be prepared for death, blood, and strange themes of children, growth, and motherhood, ect. It’s a work in progress.

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It started in the spring. It is not too uncommon for an animal to be born with defects but this was different. At noon on a Saturday, a live five headed calf with twenty-three eyes was birthed from an average healthy cow, on a family farm at the edge of town. When word spread weeks later our small town was flooded with scientists and reporters alike. They all wanted a glimpse of the fabled ‘calf of end days’. 

Every man, woman, and child knew well of the words the bible spoke, supposedly straight from the very pursed lips of God. With such sayings as ‘the horns of Satan grew in woven tandem with humanity’s wrath and ignorance’ and ‘flesh and bones of the dark in lay the tilling of the earth in a rotting harvest’, the sight of the beast was underwhelming enough that we didn’t think much of it. Sure it was unnerving at best, but to say the truth it was not any worse than what a person could find in one of those bazaar shock magazines with the hoaxes mysteries. For what most people thought it might as well have been faked. Ripply himself carried more ‘dark energy’ than what this veal had. Then again we were blind.

Days came and went, six months later the farm and the calf fell out of style, and the farm was left bankrupt. The owner was seen less and less. 

The second part came five years later. The town had been experiencing an alarming wave of people going inexplicably missing. It wasn’t like it was too small but the place was noticeably getting smaller. A kid by the unfortunate name of Richard Handy, came running home like a man on fire after having broken into the then abandoned farm with his friends. He fell screaming and crying at his mother’s feet, a nasty gash down his leg. Richard’s parents called law enforcement upon hearing that some of his friends were trapped at the location. the little information they were able to decipher from Richard’s terrified babbling was not enough to prepare them for what was at the farm.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Mary, the wife of Nathan the local butcher was the first of the mothers to have fallen prey to the curse. At midnight she birthed not a human child, but a live rabbit. Five more such births occurred on the following weeks. Fear stricken and ashamed the couple slaughtered the young and sold the meat as any average rabbit would have been. It was only when Mary gave birth to the first malformed animal did the news break. Laying between her legs was a dying rabbit, gutted and twisted as if it had been mauled by a house cat. The Doctor was perplexed to say the least, and given the evidence provided, he assumed it was a hoax. 

Every woman who ate the meat from the shop got pregnant like this and the animals birthed became more monstrous each time, until it was all just writhing fleshy mystery parts and the mothers died.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I was called out to investigate claims of a squatter at one of the houses on the outskirts of town where an old lady lived. She was in her eighties and on her own inhabited this place.

She was a stingy woman that had a sneer of curdled milk. To put it frankly: she was a bitch. I would not hesitate to hesitate on calling a hospital if I found her injured on the ground.

 If I haven't mentioned​ this already: I am a cop.

       So I drove up to her house and tapped on the door, immediately I my gut tells me something is off. But I push the feeling aside.

She opened the door and just stood there. I asked her if I could come in and she hissed a no. Confused on why I was even sent out here, I asked if she had called. Something in the air changed and the elderly gateway goblin let me in. 

The place was freezing. It was relief from the sweltering heat outside. 

The house had one level and five bedrooms​, and no fucks given about tornadoes. The walls were covered sporadically with blank sticky notes.

           We sat down across from each other. 

I questioned “What am I doing here?” 

“There is somebody in this house. I need you to stay the night to catch them when they come out from their hiding spot. They have been poisoning my food and water.” she stated crankily.

I stayed the night.

On any other day I would have left after she did and act as if I had stayed, but something was telling me I needed to be there.

Once she was gone I took some time to look around. Two of the rooms in her house were filled to the ceiling with unused baby items like diapers, food and clothing. This only got more concerning when I entered a different room that was an actual baby room with a crib. I peek into the crib and there was a large grotesque doll in place of an infant.

 I can say I left that room unsettled.

        In the kitchen the only food was junk. The cabinets were packed with chips and sweets. It was as if she had never even heard the word 'vegetable’ before. I have insulin problems so I didn't have any of the so called food. I instead sat on a couch in the living room. Everything was coated in febreze spray, not an inch was spared. I thought for a moment that she may have just been poisoning herself with all the nonsense I had seen, and been imagining things loopy on air freshener.

That was until it hit midnight.

          The clock struck twelve. 

The first thing I noticed was a change in the air.

The once cool and floral air had turned into a hot and humid dredge that smelt of rot.

I pulled my shirt up over my nose and mouth in an attempted to block it, but it didn't help all that much. It was like something large had died in there and the cooling was broken.

I got up off the couch and sped to the exit. It was locked from the outside. The door knob was on the wrong side in the way that I would need a key to open it. I pounded my fist on the door to test if it was real. Suddenly all of the sticky notes flew off the walls and swirled in a cyclone. Eye balls opened out of the structure of the house, chipping the paint away to reveal a red fleshy mucus membrane beneath. Angry that I had awakened them from their sleep.

The flipped entry got sealed over by a meaty layer at the whole space shifted. 

I was panicking. Soon it's entirety had me trapped in a beating flesh cube. I was frozen with terror. After an indeterminable amount of time a pucker formed in the muscle of the ceiling where a light had been. There was a squelching noise as sludge seeped out of the divot. I stared disgusted as it did this for a while before a large mass covered in slime was shot out and hit the ground. The eyes still watching me, I walked cautiously towards the mass.

I was the baby doll from the crib now face down into wetness. Not knowing what else to do I reached for it.

             I know now that was a bad move.

No more than two seconds after picking it up it swiveled it’s​ head round back to face me. 

I screamed and chucked it away.

The thing stood itself up and slowly opened its mouth. This was made worse by the fact that it was not a toy made for this and it had razors in place of teeth. It  then spoke.

“You should never have come here.”

It's voice sounded old and distant like a scratched record player.

I had gotten to a point of fear where I was now numb to everything happening and I wound up yelling “Don't you think I fucking know this already!?”

The toy spoke again now slightly hesitant.

“You were never meant to exist. Humanity is a lie.”

The message didn't get through to me because I had become really pissed off “DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A SHIT!? I didn't want to come out here in the first place! The person you should be doing this how speal to is not me, it's that old bitch who lives here with all the dusty candy! Jesus Christ! I would not even be here if it weren't for my damn pay check!”

We stood there in silence for a moment before it said a soft and frustrated “Get out.”

The flesh peeled away and showed a fixed door.

I shouted a thanks for nothing as I walked out while simultaneously flipping off the place with an arm raised in the air.

That was not my proudest moment.

               After I got out of the house the exit was forced shut. Everything was relatively normal outside.

Back at the station the woman called to tell me that she wished I would die because I left before she came back. I hung up the phone. She was never heard from again.

[the-writerly-night-owl]

Testament of Time

Desire and Decorum/ MC x Ernest with family moments 

Summary:  d on my poll:  Ernest reflects on each of his children. His thoughts as his youngest is about to be a man. Also a bit of romance between Ernest and Clara. 

Authors note: so today I learned that the average regency family had 5 children. Not 6 to 8 like I originally thought (although queen Charlotte had 15!). Really tempted to cut out two of these kids but I trudged on. It also includes what the kids are like and what they look like a little. LONG POST! 

Tag list: @flyawayboo @queen-among-writers   @cosigottahavefaith  @am-i-invisible777 @countrymusicandncis-blog @fluffy-cat-whisper @melodyofgraves @symonde @paisleylovergirl

Horse hooves beat down the path back from the woods to the stables. Two men from atop their trusty steeds were talking to each other. Guns loaded with another man following behind with the fresh kill.

“I taught you well Vincent,” said Ernest as he hopped down from his stallion. “Do you think we have enough?”

“I think we’re going to have plenty to eat,” said Vincent running a hand through his brown hair with a smile, his dark eyes lighting up. Then he passed his horse to the stable boy. Together the two men made their way back into Ledford with plenty of time to spare. The breeching ceremony wasn’t for another couple of hours. Their friends wouldn’t be there until an hour before.

That’s right they were going to breech their youngest son and child this afternoon. The seven-year-old William Sinclaire was now ready to be groomed into a man. This time Ernest was not going to be the one to train him. He was going to trust his two eldest sons, Vincent and Ernie, to do it. It would be practice for Vincent at least since he had a son of his own.

“I’m going to go and find Amelia,” said Vincent after they had replaced their shoes. “And check on Luke.”

Ernest nodded before going to find Clara himself. There had to be some final preparations to be done. He watched as Vincent left to look for his wife and child. It was hard to believe that he and Clara were already grandparents. Vincent, now four and twenty, already had a son named Luke who wasn’t even a year yet.

He could still remember the day Clara told him that she was expecting a child. When she was pregnant for the first time Ernest was wary. Roselyn had died in childbirth and the number of infants and young children that died was high. He knew this and feared for his wife. Clara was young and healthy ready to bear children. It was imperative that Ledford and consequently Edgewater have an heir. He held his breath bracing for the impact of what was to come. Only when he could feel the tiny kicks could get breathe again. Ernest could relax once they passed the age of five.

Vincent Sinclaire was his pride and joy. Just the thought of his eldest son made him smile because, well, because he was his son. He was the heir to the Edgewater Estate and Ledford Park.  He was trained by him, tutored by a master, apprenticed under Bartholomew Chambers, and graduated from Cambridge University. He was everything he wanted from his son and more. He was educated, handsome, charming, yet polite, and an all-around good person. Ernest could even overlook his flaws for as minor as they could be such as his stubborn nature.

“Ernest,” said Clara as she smiled at him, “I was looking for you. The cooks need what you caught and…”

“Already given to them love,” he said kissing her head. “Are you nervous?”

“Just a little,” said Clara as he bit her bottom lip. “He’s my baby, my last baby, but I know I have to. I’ve come to terms with this after Ernie. It’s hard to believe that William is seven already.”

Clara wrapped her arms around his shoulders pulling him into a hug. Ernest did the same as he took in her scent. After what happened during the last birth. Well, they shouldn’t be trying for more children any time soon.

“Think about it this way,” said Ernest as his hand cupped her cheek, “We have a grandson that’s still very little.”

His lips captured hers as they savored their alone time for the time being. Her hands lost in his hair and his pulled them even closer. Gooseflesh climbed up his skin before they broke apart, they couldn’t get too carried away. Their foreheads pressed against each other’s.

“To think I wasn’t sure about Amelia with Vincent, I’m glad they’re really happy. Now we’re grandparents.”

Ernest chuckled as he could remember Clara not being too thrilled that he wanted to marry after his first season. They had convinced him to at least wait until she was twenty like Clara. He wanted to make sure Miss Amelia Singer wasn’t a social climber before matching her with their son. Once Ernest was sure that she wasn’t another Roselyn, he accepted his daughter in law with open arms.

“I should probably go and find them,” she said softly.

“Just a few more minutes,” said Ernest as Clara grinned before pressing her lips against his once again. Finally, they had to part before they were missed. “Where’s Ernie?”

“In the library with Laurence,” she said before going to find their daughter in law.

Ernest only shook his head a smile on his face. Ernie was his name sake and probably a lot smarter then him with how much he read. There wasn’t a day he wouldn’t be in the library for at least an hour. Laurence on the other hand could be in there much longer, he was studying to be a clergyman upon his graduation. He made his way to the library to look for his sons.

Finally, he located his mop of brown hair that belonged to Ernie between a pile of books. Laurence’s blond completely hidden next to him.

“If I were you I’d pick one,” said Ernest as he studied the titles. They were mostly fiction on his side. Nonfiction on Laurence’s end. “You should be getting ready for the ceremony soon and don’t want to rush.”

“I promise,” said Ernie as he put aside another book presumably on a no pile. “Besides I need to be prepared for when I see…” He paused a deep blush on his cheeks.

“Leila?” asked Ernest as Laurence snigged before quieting at his father’s stern look. “You know your mother and I were hoping that one of our boys would marry Miss Chambers. Perhaps you’ve thought of it?”

Despite the two of them growing up (relatively) close with each other, the two shared looks often not just the friendly kind either. Ernie mumbled something under his breath but sounded somewhat relieved.

“Maybe just a little,” he said straightening up. “I think we both should have one season before deciding.”

“That’s fair,” said Ernest trying not to sound very happy.

Honestly, they were all hoping for this day since Leila was born. He liked that his son was cautious and not making rash decisions. Ernie’s usual sunny and easy-going smile returned to his face as he found a book. He was simply a good kid, one that he was just as proud to have raised with a good head on his shoulders. “Now Laurence, please do not tease your older brother about his love life.”

“I will not,” said Laurence. “Besides, I’m dedicating my life to the church. I don’t even think I’ll marry.”

“Give it time,” encouraged Ernest. “After all you’re only eighteen, I never thought I’d remarry but I did and have eight wonderful children.”

He rubbed his son’s shoulder as if it would be soothing as Laurence nodded seriously. Besides Laurence was not shy, if he wasn’t the third son women would be lining up to court him. He was confident, friendly, and handsome. He chose the church because he simply liked talking to people and helping. Ernest had no doubt that his son would find a wife.

Next he had to find Georgiana, Mabel, Andrew, Thomas, and William. It would be easy to find Thomas and Andrew though. They would be together in the billiard room playing a game or two. Ernest had taught them to play when they were old enough.

“I made that shot,” said a hot voice from behind the door. “Stripes went in, that was not a solid ball.”

He opened the door with a soft click before going in. “Boys don’t fight,” said Ernest as the two shot up and nodded at their father. “I just wanted to let you know it’s almost time to get ready.”

“Of course, father,” said Thomas with a charming smile. Ernest gave him a hard look as he gulped and nodded for certain.

“We’ll be ready,” said Andrew happily.

“Thank you,” he said as he surveyed the table. From what he heard it looked like Andrew was winning. “I’d just finish your game and head upstairs, you don’t want to keep your mother waiting.”

His two sons were something alright, he thought with a small smile. Thomas would often charm the staff into giving him a spare sweet or two sometimes. He would the one to ask Clara for extra hugs most of the time. Although he could play a great game of chess for a boy of ten. He was sweet, and Ernest couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him.

Andrew on the other hand was a bit impulsive but thankfully smart enough not to run off. He was smart and laid back with a dramatic streak to him. Andrew would be the first to notice if something was wrong in the house and say something about it. He also managed to pick up a lot of gossip from the women when they were around (which he didn’t use thankfully!).

“Father mother is looking for you,” said Mabel as she found him.

“Well why don’t you take me right to her?” said Ernest wondering if something happened. Or if they will get their alone time that they needed. He hoped for the former.

Mabel nodded leading him to the staircase. “Is Edmund coming to this party?” she asked anxiously. “Will he bring Katharine?”

“I’m sure he will,” said Ernest thinking of Edmund’s daughter. It was a bit sad that he had sent off his son, Harry, to boarding school and then university. There was a good reason for that though. “I bet you two have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes we do,” she said proudly. “We’re watching Amelia talk to Georgiana about her coming out.”

It was quiet as Ernest tried to control his thoughts. Of course they would be talking about that.

“Listen, Mabel, I do not want you to worry at all about growing up,” he said as they stopped in the hall. “You’re my baby girl and your going to be that way to me forever. Do not worry about that, you will be twenty sooner then I like.”

Mabel looked down at her feet before clearing her throat. “I will treasure every moment I have with you and everyone as much as I can. I don’t want to leave any time soon,” she said as her eyes looked a little glassy.  

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said brushing hair away from her face. Mabel was very sweet and curious as she looked up at him. She was beautiful, she was the only child to have blond hair (from his mother and Clara’s) and green eyes (from Clara). His girls were everything to him. “I only have two daughters and it will be difficult for me to give you away.”

“I think I get it,” she said hugging him. “I don’t want to leave you and mother either.”

Ernest nodded before they entered the boudoir. Georgiana sat in the room talking with Clara about something or another as they entered. He stopped and smiled at his daughter as Georgiana curtsied at him. Just like his wife and Mabel she was also a very beautiful girl. She had inherited her mother’s dark brown hair and his blue eyes, a striking contrast against her pale skin.

“We’re just finishing up,” said Georgiana. She smiled at her mother as Clara gave her a stern look. Sheepish she straightened up and headed toward the door. “Father, I was wondering if next week we could pick out some fabric for a new gown?”

There it was, just a subtle hint at her coming out to society next season. The first time he would have a daughter to present. Ernest Sinclaire would describe his eldest daughter as witty, energetic, and kind if a bit straightforward. He wasn’t ready to present her to society and society would not be ready for her. He would sooner enroll his daughter in a convent before parliaments sons could touch her.

“We will talk about this later,” he said. “Just give me time to prepare for it okay?”

“Okay,” she said before Ernest kissed her head. She turned and smiled at her parents before leaving to do something.

It was quiet as he made sure she was gone. Clara had already pushed aside what she was working on. Her desk suspiciously cleaned off as she made sure her window was shut before lighting a lone candle.  

“I may have called you in here for a more personal reason,” she said her voice low as Ernest’s pupils dilated and smile on his face.

She was waiting for him it seemed as she slid to sit on top of her desk. Forgetting about the party, he needed her. Ernest stepped over to her as their arms were already around each other.

Their lips met before kissing down her throat as a growl escaped from his lips. He was so happy her party dresses were low cut. Her hands were undoing his cravat slowly. Ernest dipped his wife until her back was against the top of the hardwood. She tossed aside his cravat his hands already working on the top of her dress.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since our last kiss,” said Clara straightening up.

“I only wish we could go farther,” whispered Ernest as she smiled at him. “Tonight?” She nodded happily before they opened the door.

There was a banging at the door before Clara fixed up the room and her dress and Ernest put his cravat back on. Outside the door stood William looking very excited. Curiously he looked up at his parents before shrugging. “People are here.”

“I can see that,” said Ernest, “Let’s go down okay?” With that Clara and Ernest took of his hands. He could only wonder what kind of man William will be.

[yoongimeowed]

BTS Reacting to “Coming Home to You and Their Children”.

Kim Namjoon:

After you and Namjoon had your wedding, you brought up the idea that it was time to look into having children.  As expected, Namjoon supported the idea, and now you have a daughter.  Namjoon loved his daughter everyday and would do anything to make sure she was safe and well fed.  But obviously, the one thing he loved the most was coming home to you and his child.  Tonight, he came home from a long day at work, he was stressed, but was left at aw when he saw you feeding your daughter.  He quickly rests his backpack, headphones, and keys on the table and walked up behind you.  You smiled as Namjoon winks at his daughter and fly’s her a kiss, which made her laugh loudly.  From that night on, Namjoon was generous enough to let you sleep and have him take care of his daughter until it was your turn.

Kim Seokjin:

It was a stressful day for Seokjin.  It was probably one of the busiest day he had ever experienced, on top of him having to attend a business meeting for his dad’s company.  But, ever since you and Seokjin had settled down and decided it was time to have children, it seemed like all of his stress would disappear as he would be so excited to see his daughter and son.  Entering the front door, the two little rascal's ran to the sound of his keys landing on the counter, and you followed behind them.  You lean against the wall as you watch your handsome husband, pick both of them up, and had them sit on his shoulder’s.  He walks up to you and greets you with a passionate kiss.  The both of you laugh as you hear your daughter and son make noises in disgust.

Min Yoongi:

Yoongi wasn’t always a fan of having the thought of raising a child, but he knew he would love to raise at least one...until he met you.  Yoongi was hoping for a daughter, but ended up having a son.  However, that never stopped him from loving his one and only child.  Thing is, the both of you were actually expecting to give birth a few weeks after the wedding, but, plans changed.  Even though it was early, Yoongi never took his eyes off his son when he was asleep.  He would always check if he was breathing or pale, sometimes you would have to drag him to sleep.  But what made him fall in love all over again, was when you gave him an unexpected visit at his studio.  The moment he saw you walk in, he immediately turned around,and started crying and laughing in tears as he saw his son slowly walking on his two feet.  He gives the both of you a kiss and whispers in your ear, “Our boy is so big now, I think I want another child.”

Jung Hoseok:

You and Hoseok have been a couple for seven years, the both of you were living in a really nice apartment.  However, today was probably the most stressful day he ever experienced.  All he wanted to do, was to come home, eat, and sleep.  The moment he arrived at home, and rest his keys on the counter, he walked straight to his daughters room and saw you laying down in her crib with her.  He laughed, which made the both of you wake up.  As soon as his daughter opened her eyes to her father, she got up and started jumping.  Begging Hoseok to pick her up.  You sit up, whipped out your phone and started recording, as you watch the love of your life and your daughter play together in her room.

Park Jimin:

Being pregnant with Jimin’s child wasn’t really easy.  The contractions you were experiencing was not always that great, on top of having anxiety episodes once in awhile.  It scared the living hell out of him, but he was always right by your side 24/7, taking care of you.  He was so caring, he even suggested having a “water birth” instead.  Now, looking back four years ago, it was painful, but having your daughter was definitely worth the wait.  One day, Jimin came home early, but you were never to be found, because you were busy filling up your backyard pool.  The moment he stepped into the front door and threw off his shoes, you hear your daughter scream and immediately dropped the hose in the pool, leaving it to fill on its own.  You rest your hand on your chest, relieved to see your husband giving his daughter a piggy-back-ride.  He goes up to you and gives you a kiss, “I’m home, babe.”

Kim Taehyung:

The moment Taehyung laid eyes on you, he knew one day you were the one he was going to have kids with.  As expected, the both of you gave birth to two healthy boys and one healthy and beautiful daughter.  Taehyung loved his kids so much, he would give up everything to make sure they continued to have a roof over their head, food on the table, and see them grow everyday.  It was the was last day of his concert, and all we wanted was to get home to his family and be with them.  Entering the front door, he had a questionable expression as to why the lights were off, “Y/N?  Kids?  Appa is home?!”.  There was no response.  He drops his luggage and his keys on the floor immediately and starts wandering around the house.  Peering around the corner, you turn on the lights and your kids yell out to him, greeting him with a vocal ‘Welcome Home, Dad!’.  He starts bursting into tears as his kids ran up to him, taking his hands, and leading him to sit at the table with you and your daughter.  He gives you a kiss, which was your daughters favorite thing to see; it made her burst into laughter.  “I’m on vacation for the next two weeks, shall we take our kids to Disneyland?!” he asks out loud.  

Jeon Jungkook:

Although Jungkook was the youngest member in BTS, it was surprising when all of his Hyung’s found out that he has a kid on the way.  You and Jungkook always talked about kids, and when you guys want one.  From that moment, the both of you gave birth to a beautiful daughter.  Although Jungkook was the fifth member to have a child, it did not bother him one bit, nor with the others.  Jungkook loved his daughter from the moon to back.  On weekends, sometimes he’ll take his daughter to the studio, or on a cute “Daddy and Daughter” date at cute cat cafe.  One night, he came home after work.  He was really exhausted and stressed out cause he was having a hard time learning a new dance that Hobi came up with for their new album.  Setting his backpack on the hanger, and throwing his keys in the accessory bowl, he walks into your room and lays down next to you.  You asked how was his day, and he told you it was tiring.  As he closes his eyes, his daughter peeks into the door and jumps on top of him, laughing.  He lets out a gasp of laughter, and picks her up, “God, you’ve gotten strong my little one!  Trying to hurt daddy?!”.  She smiles and shakes her head side to side.  The both of you smile back as she crawls in between the both of you, and called it a night.

[imagine-loki]

Maelstrom

TITLE: Maelstrom CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 5 AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine helping Loki leave his physically and emotionally abusive girlfriend. You treat him with kindness and respect, and with time, as he falls for you, you teach him that love isn’t supposed to hurt. RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: Trigger Warning - This story is going to deal with emotional and physical abuse by a female abuser to her male partner. Maelstrom - a situation or state of confused movement or violent turmoil.

This chapter also references a past suicide. 

Shakespeare’s sonnet #27 is posted at the bottom of the fic for reference. 

Though she knew it was the right thing to do, Cara felt guilty. It was required if she wanted to look after him. Loki was a good being, he did not deserve it. Eir gave her advice and support with assisting her further if Cara felt she needed her ear and advice again. She also told her to take note of everything to do with it in case it was required later.

The next day, Alfred did not come to the healers' rooms for fresh bandages and salve. By evening, Cara was getting worried. When she finished her usual jobs, she got what she required and informed Eir that she had to do a call before setting off with a promise to return soon.

The guards let her through without issue into the Royal hallway. It was when she arrived at Loki's chambers that she was supposed to wait for consent to enter. Alfred opened the door looking anything but pleased. ‘I should warn you…’ He began as he made room for her to enter the room.

‘It's fine.’ Cara walked over to the table which she had sat at the day before assisting Loki. She had barely gotten to the table when the noise began to become clearly audible. She bit her lips together as the tirade became more and more vicious. After a couple minutes, it did not seem to be ceasing or settling down any bit and having become irate by what she was hearing. She decided to step in. Inhaling deeply, she walked to the door that separated the two rooms and knocked on it confidently.

It was Lucia who opened the door, wearing only some lingerie and Loki's overcoat. ‘Yes?’ Her eyes widened when she realised who was there. ‘What do you want?’

‘The prince is due a bandage change and there is a woman in labour that I have been asked to return to assist on, so may he come out, it will not take long.’

Lucia gave her a momentary angered look before moving slightly. Loki walked past and sat at the table wearing only a pair of pants. He extended his arm dutifully without being asked. He said nothing as she worked on it, Lucia standing over them, watching intently.

Cara said nothing as she worked. More than once she felt him looking at her but she did not return his glance, partly in guilt but also partly because she was angry ask him for not sticking to his own wishes. ‘There.’ She stated. ‘I assume you forgot to send Alfred to the healing rooms, so in case you forget again, I will simply leave some extra bandages and salve here. I need to be available for others, especially when babies are insisting on being born at all sorts of hours, not that they can help it of course.’ she joked. ‘I will let you get back to your evening.’ She rose to leave and finally looked at Loki, feeling her heartbreak at his blatant unhappiness. He begged her with his eyes to stay but without him saying anything, there was nothing she could do. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘No.’ Lucia snapped. ‘Now if you don't mind, we were in the middle of something.’

‘I gathered.’ Cara looked them up and down. ‘My Prince, can I assist you any further?’ SHe asked, giving him the opportunity to say something.

‘No, thank you.’ He mumbled.

‘Very well, good evening.’ Cara walked out of the room without another word or glance back.

*

‘Well?’ She turned to see Eir cleaning her hands having delivered Lady Ramona’s daughter.

‘Fine.’ Cara dismissed, tidying herself up after assisting.

‘Cara?’ Eir prodded, seeing the anger in the younger woman’s eyes.

‘Please, I just need to finish my notes.’

‘I think you need to talk.’

‘I think I don’t.’

‘Cara?’

‘Why...What madness comes into play when an intelligent and educated man defies the logic of leaving someone so truly horrid?’

‘We cannot say for sure.’ Eir confessed. ‘What happened?’

‘He gave in to her request and allowed her to force him to bed….but if you only saw his face…’

‘Do you think it to be rape?’

‘Honestly, I believe so, yes. He does not want it.’

‘Are you going to reveal his name to me?’

I can't, not until he asks me to help. You and I both know this.’

‘I know it is frustrating.’

‘I became a healer to help people, yet here I stand, watching this shipwreck as though it is in slow motion and I cannot do anything. I'm only permitted to watch while I bear witness to utter carnage.’

‘I know.’ Eir sighed. ‘It goes against our very beings. I remember a girl, I was less than a century in this profession, she got pregnant from a foolish fumble with an older man who used her naivety to trap her, that we suspect, at least. She was so innocent, I remember the shock on her face as being told that she was to be a mother, she had no idea how it even happened. She was married within in the week. Well, the baby came, a little girl, big enough for a first child. The mother was not particularly dainty but good sized child regardless.’ Eir inhaled before she spoke again and when she exhaled, it was almost shaky. ‘He had her back in the healing rooms two weeks later suffering from damage. He did not even wait for her to heal properly after the birth. She was pregnant again within the year. I told the head healer, we did everything we could within our constraints. She had twelve pregnancies, seven daughters and five miscarriages.’

‘What happened in the end?’

‘She started coming to check up with bruises in the shape of hand marks. Every time we told her it was a girl, she shook and she cried. Three of the miscarriages occurred within the first two days of the revealing of the gender. She had such a difficult life. And her parents all but ignored her because of the “shame” she had brought them. She loves her children but it became too much.’

‘How old was she?’

‘She was barely scraping nine hundred when I diagnosed her first pregnancy. She was not even twelve hundred when I pronounced her death from jumping from the highest balcony she could access.’

‘Norns.’

‘I begged her, I begged her so often let me help her. But she refused.’

‘I…’ Cara could not bare Loki doing something similar.

‘Try and get him to ask for help, Cara. Whoever this boy is, try and get him to see sense.’

‘’And if I can't?’

‘One of the hardest realisations you will ever come to in this life is that we cannot save everyone.’

‘I just feel so conflicted.’

‘How so?’

‘I am not particularly sure. How am I supposed to respect boundaries when such foul crimes are being committed? It is so wrong to be in such a position.’

‘Help him see that.’

‘He thinks men cannot be the victim.’

Eir shook her head. ‘Men are more often the perpetrator but they are as able to be the victim too. Try and help him see that.’

‘I will try.’

*

It was while she was writing more patient notes late the next day when Cara heard the door of the healing room open. She paid little heed to it as there were other healers still in the ward.

‘Excuse me, where would I find Healer Cara?’

‘Her office is the third on the right.’ Amelia, a new apprentice directed.

‘Thank you.’

Cara put away the notes she had readied for whoever was about to arrive. Oddly, the same feeling she experienced in her gut before came to her again. She rose from her chair and walked over to the door before the man on the other side could even knock. ‘Oh’.

‘Alfred, is everything alright?’ She asked worriedly as she let him in. ‘Is the Prince having an issue with the bandage?’ Her voice was low until she closed the door to ensure Loki’s privacy. As soon as it clicked shut, she raised her voice to a more normal level. ‘You can speak freely now, these rooms are protected to ensure confidentiality.’

‘When you arrived yesterday…’

Cara inhaled. ‘Yes?’

‘I…’ She cocked her head slightly. With a shaking breath, Alfred glowed green and turned to Loki.

‘Oh, wow.’ Cara had not expected that

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What for?

‘What you witnessed.’

‘I came back here, and within ten minutes of my returning, Lady Ramona accidentally had her birthing sac rupture on me as I aided Eir during the labour, I can assure you, I am very much aware of intimacy and indeed, its repercussions.’ She dismissed.

‘Are you allowed tell me that? I thought you were bound to secrecy?’ Loki questioned.

Cara looked at him, confused. ‘Lord Henry declared it to a full dining room last evening after dinner and again at breakfast and lunch today that after two boys, he finally gave his beloved Ramona the daughter she yearned for so greatly. It is more public knowledge now than knowing that your father is the Allfather. I suspect he has even gone and told that stray cat that dallies outside the kitchens at this stage.’ She laughed as she sat behind her desk again

‘Oh...I thought…’

‘I respect all of my patient’s privacy.’ Her tone revealed her disapproval of such a thought.

‘I just...how?’

‘How what?’

‘How do I do it?’

‘Do what?’ Cara walked around her desk, begging to herself that what she suspected he was trying to say was, in fact, the words he was trying to get out.

‘Get her to stop?’

‘You can’t, only she can stop her. She has to choose to stop.’

‘I need…’

‘You need to end it. She is not good for you, My Prince.’ She took his hand in hers.

‘But I will never find someone to love me again.’

‘This is not love.’ Cara explained in a sympathetic voice. ‘We do not hurt those we love. We do not make them feel that they are a burden or not worthy of our time and love. She does not love you.’ She declared. ‘You deserve love, someone who, when she sees you, her whole face brightens up, who respects you, who…’ she paused and looked at Loki, who was fighting back tears. ‘My Prince?’ She did it to comfort him. She reached up and went to put her hand to his cheek but he winced and drew back before she even touched him. She felt herself fighting back her own tears as she noticed how scared he was. ‘You do not deserve to fear the touch of another.’

As his resolve broke, Cara noticed his right eye become severely bloodshot. Seeing her concern, Loki lifted the spell that he placed on himself. Cara’s eyes widened as his face changed from pale perfect skin to a mottled swollen mess. ‘I….I couldn’t...perform.’

Cara’s heart broke. ‘Loki…’

‘I always…..I wanted it to be on my terms, with someone I...who made me want to, but I couldn’t and she…’

‘That is how you don’t know about Lord Henry and Lady Ramona’s daughter, you were hiding.’

‘I am a coward.’

‘No, no my Prince, you are no such thing, cease that thought right now. You do not deserve this, you did nothing to deserve any of it.’ She gently brought her hand to the side of his face that was not injured. Startled at first, Loki did not know how to react but a moment later, he leant into her touch. ‘We all just want to be loved. There is no shame in that.’

‘You don’t have anyone.’

‘I don’t entertain thoughts of those I do not think will make me happy.’ She explained. ‘I will find my Prince, when the time's right, I will settle for nothing else. I rather be alone than be someone who I don’t feel I could love fully, it’s not right.’

‘Help me.’ She looked at him. ‘Please.’

‘Do you want to just get away from her or do you want to press charges?’

‘I just want to be free.’

‘We’ll think of something.’ She promised, putting her hand on his, gently squeezing it. ‘When was the last time you felt good about you?’

‘I can hardly remember.’

‘Do what makes you happy Loki, be happy.’

‘She will not accept it.’

‘And you should not accept her not accepting it. We can only be responsible for us.’

Loki could not help but feel sceptical of her words. ‘Can I talk to you?’

‘Of course, we are talking now.’ She smiled.

‘No, just normal talking, please.’

Cara thought of the work she still had to complete, as well as her tiredness from a long tedious day before smiling again. ‘Sonnet Twenty-seven.’ Loki’s brows furrowed. ‘Today, that would be my sonnet of choice.’

Loki flicked through the words in his head and smiled back. ‘That’s a good one.’ Then his smile fell. ‘I am not stopping you leaving, am I?’ He began to turn for the door.

‘Not at all.’ Cara fibbed ‘What about you?’

‘No, I had sent word that I was a little ill so no one has bothered me...oh, you mean the sonnets, I guess….I can’t remember.’

Cara gave a small laugh. ‘Well, we can talk more on it when you do.’ She offered.

‘I would like that.’

Cara was about to speak again when there was a knock on the door. She walked over and opened it slightly. ‘Yes?’ Her voice was polite.

‘Healer Eir gave this to me and said that it was for your eyes only.’

‘Thank you, Amelia.’ She smiled, taking the file, ensuring the apprentice could not see who the other occupant of the room was. She noted the awkward manner in which Amelia was looking at her. ‘Can I do anything else for you?’

‘At the back of the file is my consent for that requires signing to allow me…’

‘I was under the impression that you are to follow Healer Amie?’

‘Yes, but she is away this week and I checked, any qualified healer can sign it and it…’

‘Is due tomorrow.’ Cara noted the date that is was supposed to be returned by the following day. ‘I see. I promise I will have it logged tonight.’

‘Thank you, Healer Cara.’

‘No problem, now, I have a patient that needs me here, I will be out to you soon.’

‘Of course, I'm sorry to have disturbed you.’ Amelia rushed off.

Cara walked back in and placed the form and her document file and the file in a drawer within her desk. ‘My apologies.’

‘Why did you become a healer?’ Loki asked curiously. ‘Tyr is incredibly wealthy, you don't need to work.’

‘No one becomes a healer for financial gain, trust me.’ Cara laughed. ‘I have wanted to be one since I was a child. Father came home for the battle on Nidavellir having received several bad wounds. I watched as Healer May, she was the old head healer before Eir, tended to him. She asked me if I wanted to help, I think she just wanted to calm my anxiousness at him being wounded but I loved every moment of it. I decided then I would become one. It became my goal just as my sister's one was to become a warrior. well, she wanted to be a Valkyrie but they're all gone so she settled for looking for trouble with Thor and his other friends under the guise of being a warrior instead.’

Loki chuckled at what he would describe as an accurate description of Thor and his friends galavanting. ‘And what about Lucas?’

‘Lucas always loved inter-realm relations. When father stepped down from the army and took a more political and diplomatic role, Lucas decided when watching him but that is what he wished for too.’

‘You are all very happy.’

‘What would you like to do?’

‘Travel, and study in Vanaheim and Alfheim for a century or two, broaden my seidr.’

‘Why don’t you?’

‘Lucia….’

‘She is not relevant in this.’

‘She said it was stupid, that I should just be more like Thor.’ There was a clear bitterness in his tone.

‘Does she often compare you to your brother?’

‘Yes, she does. Apparently, he would not be so….’

Cara took his hand as she had done many times before. ‘It’s alright.’

‘I am not as good as him.’

‘You are not Thor, you are Loki, and you are as good as Thor. Maybe not at the same things but you are as valid as he is, never forget that.’

‘You always say these things, these words to lift a being.’

‘You need to hear them but I believe them also.’

‘Of all the beings, why are you so nice to me?’

‘I am nice to all my patients. My role is to tend to your wellbeing in every way. I remember when we were growing up, you were always your own being. I have always liked our interactions, as infrequent as they were while we were younger.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, I always found you to very interesting to speak with or when you were speaking to Lucas, as the case was. We have a similar taste in literature, I find myself enjoying and looking forward to my time speaking with you on certain matters.’ Loki’s eyes brightened significantly at her words.

It was past midnight when Cara crashed onto her bed. Loki had stayed in her office for a few hours, then with her notes and ensuring Amelia’s forms were sent, she was very much tempted to sleep in her office, but instead, she forced herself to her bed.

Shakespeare sonnet #27

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head, To work my mind, when body's work's expired: For then my thoughts (from far where I abide) Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see: Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous and her old face new. Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

[kyouryokusenshi]

Oxytocin

Authors: KS & MF @marinafrenzy

Summary: June 2018 XF PB on tumblr, prompt #50, S11 pregnancy sex with Scully on top

Note: Big thanks to our awesome beta, Steph, for her quick turnaround on this piece!

******

Tagging: @today-in-fic @xfpornbattle

From his side of the bed, Mulder watched lazily as Scully stripped off her satin nightgown and waddled towards the bathroom. He heard the plinking of bottles, followed by the zip of her toiletry bag closing.

The muffled sound of water hitting the shower floor filled the bedroom. Scully had just entered her third trimester. Showers for two would soon be a thing of the past. He pondered his next move. God, why was he even hesitating? He swung his legs out from under the covers and made a dash for the door.

Clouds of steam had taken over the bathroom. The shower heat was turned up to the max. Mulder dropped his boxers to the ground, kicking them across the floor in the general direction of the laundry basket.

“Hey there,” he whispered easing the shower curtain open.

“Jesus, Mulder. You startled me.”

“Sorry,” he replied and stepped in behind her.

He deposited a quick peck on her cheek before proceeding to wrap her rounded belly like a support belt, lifting the baby’s weight off her back.

“Hmmm this is nice,” she said.

She relaxed her shoulders and settled her aching body against his chest. She’d been dealing with lower back pain more often lately, something about her organs shifting and her uterus expanding, she’d explained. Warm soothing water poured over their bodies. They stood there holding each other without the need for words.

Scully leaned back her head against Mulder. Her wet hair tickled his neck, sending little shivers up and down his spine. She was growing it out again. He missed that long hair of hers. Some say you’re either a breast man or an ass man, and Scully didn’t disappoint on either front, but long-haired Scully did things to him. Mulder shifted slightly to adjust his growing erection snuggly between them.

“Mulder, what are you…?”

“Shhh,” he hushed and reached for the bottle of body wash. He squeezed some of the creamy substance onto his hands then lathered her shoulders.

“Let me take care of you,” he said as his hands moved to knead the soft tissue around her neck. Scully moaned and her right hand disappeared between her legs. Mulder’s view was limited, but he had his imagination, and there were also memories. Vivid images of Scully’s fingers making their way to her wet folds, her index finger drawing slow circles across her clit, flashed in front of his eyes.

He rubbed the deep muscles in her shoulders, his fist and fingers mirroring the circular motions of his daydream vision. After a few minutes, he sensed the tensions in Scully’s back dissipate, and his own circulation increased.

Hard and pulsating with anticipation, he rocked his hips against her small fame, careful not to throw off her balance. Scully moved to cup her left breast with her free hand. Gently she traced her thumb around her nipple until it formed a perfect little pink peak.

Mulder rinsed off the leftover body gel from his hands. Scully’s moans were growing louder and he wanted in on the action. He started pumping himself. Long, strong up-and-down strokes built up his pleasure. Too much too soon, he thought.

Mulder exhaled and softened the three-finger grip on his cock. He took a step to the side. Once within reach, he slapped his penis against her waist.

“Mulder!” Scully let out a surprised giggle. Her upper teeth biting down on her lip, she tilted her head to grin at him, a mischievous look in her eyes.

She stopped touching herself to bring both of his hands up to her chest. Nestled warmly in his palms, her breasts felt round and heavy. Last he’d heard, Scully had grown two cup sizes and she still had eleven more weeks to go before her due date.

“The water is getting cold,” she whispered between rapid breaths. A shiver travelled across her shoulders. The water droplets running down her neck sparkled like little crystals. He scooped them up by running his tongue across her cooling skin.

“We should have gotten the fifty-six gallon water heater,” he said smiling.

Scully turned around to face him. Her bump hit his erection, sending it wobbling in front of him like a jelly. Mulder chuckled at the silliness of the moment. He looked down at her. His wife. The mother of his children. She was so beautiful. The blue of her eyes was even deeper in the dim ochre light of the shower. He placed a kiss on her mouth. She parted her lips to invite him in. The lukewarm water from the shower mixed with the heat of their tongues. He would have stayed longer, cold water be damned, but she pulled away.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” she said pressing her hands against his chest, just firmly enough to nudge him out.

******

The shower had worked its magic. Well, the shower and Mulder’s hands, Scully corrected herself. When she walked out of the bathroom, relaxed and smelling of her Jasmine-Coconut body wash, Mulder was already waiting for her in bed. He had those dark eyes that screamed sex and made her inner thighs twitch with need.

“Come over here,” he said patting the empty space next to him on the mattress.

She stripped off her cotton bathrobe.

“I’m having déjà-vu,” he noted, and his eyes followed the trajectory of her robe as it joined the satin nightgown on the floor.

Naked, Scully began a slow walk to the bed. After a few steps, she stopped to take in the sight.

“You look comfortable,” she teased. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

Mulder had propped himself up with all their pillows. Leaning back against his little makeshift mountain, he looked effortlessly attractive. His forearm was tucked in behind his head, his right hand massaging his erect penis.

Watching him lie there, exposed, Scully suddenly fancied herself a hungry lioness. She wanted to pounce. Her growing belly would get in the way though, so she compromised. Carefully, she climbed into bed, making long strides with her arms and legs. Like a cat circling its prey, she straddled Mulder’s thighs.

“Touch this,” she hissed and lifted his right hand from his cock to her breasts. He let out a surprised breath but did not dare disobey.

Still on top of Mulder, she shifted right then left to get comfortable. She had really popped this last month. There was no getting around it; she’d have to let her bump rest on the smooth skin below his navel if she was going to lead this ride.

She leaned forward for a kiss, but quickly found herself pulling at his lower lip instead. Each time she rolled the soft skin through her teeth, she tugged a little more forcefully.

“Good evening to you too, beast woman,” he whispered.

Mulder responded to the attack on his lip with a quick succession of bites to her neck and shoulders. Scully gasped, and her body shook with pleasure. She didn’t let him get the better of her though, and quickly straightened her shoulders to resume her commanding posture.

“Grab my ass,” she ordered while raising herself onto her knees.

She placed one hand on his shoulder to steady herself. With the other, she guided him to her and eased herself onto him. She raised and then lowered herself, repeating the motion until she felt the initial tightness subside.

“You feel so good,” he said.

“Hmmmm,” she moaned.

Once she found her rhythm, she began to rock back and forth, rubbing her clit against his skin with each push of her hips. Underneath, Mulder was bucking into her, both hands firm on her behind. Twice, he almost slipped out of her but caught himself in time to thrust back stronger and deeper, causing her to arch her back and moan.

“Oh god… Don’t let go of me,” she urged. Her grip on his shoulders intensified and her nails scraped the surface of his skin.

Suddenly, Scully was thrown out of sync by a kick to her ribs. The baby’s movements heightened her awareness to her physical state. She was pregnant. She was fifty-four and pregnant.

Thoughts of darker times came rushing through her mind. When they first moved to the unremarkable house in 2003, she told Mulder she missed motherhood. He never asked her if she wanted another child, but he also never asked about birth control. For a decade, they lived in uncertainty, not really trying for a baby, yet not preventing it either. Patiently, she waited. Then the darkness pulled them apart.

“Something on your mind?” He asked out of breath, slowing his pace. His hands moved to caress her back. He brushed her skin lightly and she purred under the warmth of his finger tips.

“I’m fine,” she responded and plunged in for a kiss. It had taken them a couple of years to find their way back to each other, but their lives were destined for the same path. The tiny heart beating a hundred and twenty beats per minute inside her womb was a daily reminder to never give up on a miracle.

“I’m more than fine,” Scully murmured. She cupped his face to gaze into his eyes. They exchanged smiles, and then resumed their vigorous rocking.

There was a curious erotic purity to pregnancy sex, she thought, as their bodies moved in rugged unison, hers leading the way in the chase for release. Her biological imperative to procreate fulfilled, she could finally enjoy sex for its own sake. No more prayers, no more silent waiting, she’d beaten the odds.

Rocking back and forth and up and down, she held on to Mulder for support. Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. Long and high. She fell against his chest, legs spasming, and arms like Jell-o. Her eyes opened just in time to witness Mulder’s own dive into the ocean of sweet deliverance. His eyes rolled back in his head as he thrust inside of her one final time. Holding him in her arms, wet and sticky from their lovemaking, she inhaled his animal scent. He moaned her name and nuzzled his nose against the crook of her neck. She pressed her pregnant belly hard against his body. The life inside of her stirred and she breathed out a soft chuckle. She felt powerful. She was free.