#who hates her but she enjoys having him by the short hairs employment wise? or just enjoys active hate cause it makes her stronger

[sweetbitterbitten]

[ 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 ]

"now i know the better business bureau would have a field day but say we slipped some razor wire into the reese's - that would stop the little rascals from returning next year - wouldn't it?"

[megalodont]

a stitch in time saves nine

Nie Huaisang was not an idiot, but sometimes he wished he was. 

“Sect Leader, you know meditation is essential for the conditioning of your golden core—”

“Are you my guard or my mother? Of course I know! But it’s so boring. I already told you I’m spending the afternoon painting, you can’t change my mind.”

“Sect Leader—” 

“Sect Leader, Sect Leader. If I am your leader why aren’t you listening to me?” Nie Huaisang pouted. “I’ll do it tomorrow. The light is only going to be this good for another hour, I don’t wanna waste it meditating. I refuse. Go switch with another guard if you don’t like it.” Nie Huaisang shooed the man with his fan and flounced into the pavilion in a swirl of embroidery and silk. As he settled in front of the desk he heard the man sigh, and then the dreaded call went out. 

“Someone fetch Hu Junhui!” 

“Don’t call her!” Nie Huaisang yelped.

“I am under specific orders to call her when the situation requires it,” the guard said steadily.

“I gave you those orders! Now I’m taking it back!”

“Sect Leader made it clear that his orders were incontrovertible, unable to be retracted even by himself.”

“I know that, I said it,” Nie Huaisang grumbled, but he knew he’d already lost. He never won this particular battle—heavens curse him for the machinations of his past self. 

“Sect Leader Nie,” came a gentle voice from behind the door. 

Nie Huaisang plonked his face into his palm, letting it squish his cheek. “Enter,” he grumbled.

The door slid open to reveal an older lady with a beatific smile. Though her face was lined and her hair shot with silver she was still beautiful. She bowed deeply. He hated her so much.

“If I may begin, Sect Leader?”

“No,” he told her, but he knew it was useless.

“Grey hair,” she said serenely, as if he had not spoken. “Crow’s feet. Liver spots. The loss of your figure. Hands too unsteady for calligraphy. Eyesight too poor to read poetry by moonlight. Ears that can no longer hear the highest, purest notes. Older people do not have the patience or conditioning to stalk birds for days on end. A guttering core will not keep you warm, and in the winter you will have to cover your elegant clothes with heavy, unflattering cloaks. Sect Leader Nie knows the most beautiful vistas are visible only by sword, and that only cultivators can paint with light. Older people cannot handle food that is too rich, nor excessive amounts of alcohol. As they age men sometimes lose their powers in bed—”

“Okay,” Nie Huaisang interupted. “Okay! I’ll go meditate! Ayi, why do you like this job?” He whined. “I’ll pay you double what you’re getting to just not do it. You can even still live here if you want!”

“Sect Leader Nie pays me very generously already,” the woman said pleasantly. “I am content with things as they are.”

“I could fire you, you know.”

“My contract with Sect Leader Nie ensures my employment in perpetuity,” came the placid reply. 

Nie Huaisang’s head hit the desk.

*

“Sect Leader Yao is not satisfied with the agreement. This treaty is essential to the continued prosperity of Qinghe. You cannot send him away until he signs.”

“Can’t I?” Nie Huaisang groused. “This is my keep. We’ve been talking for hours, the man just refuses to see sense! I won’t keep banging my head against that wall, I can literally feel myself breaking out. Kick him out.” His advisors did not move. Neither did the guards. “You guys,” Nie Huaisang moaned. “Who exactly is in charge here? Get that odious man out of my sight, hearing, and mind, I’m begging you. A whole day of meetings with Sect Leader Yao is too much, no one could be expected to withstand that!”

His advisors glanced at each other, and one gave a short nod to the guard by the door, who swiftly exited. Nie Huaisang’s heart sank. 

“Sect Leader Nie,” came that hateful voice a moment later, just as smooth and affable as it always was. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, slumping on his throne. “Get on with it, I guess.”

“If an agreement with Sect Leader Yao cannot be reached today, Sect Leader Yao will have to stay the night. Even if ejected from the Unclean Realm he will return. Due to his offense at being rebuffed, Sect Leader Yao will doubtless become quarrelsome and inflexible—”

“He’s already quarrelsome and inflexible,” Nie Huaisung grumbled.

“—to an even greater degree than he was today. If an arrangement cannot be made in these meetings then the deal will fall through. The cost of raising sheep will rise, and with them the price of wool. Farmers will need financial support, which will require many hours of reading tedious production reports and meetings with aggrieved farm owners. New taxes will need to be devised, which will require much research and consideration. There will certainly be dissent as a result of this tax, and Sect Leader Nie will be required to listen to many complaints from wealthy merchants and other constituents. The amount of time Sect Leader has for leisure activities coming up to winter is already so small,” she said sweetly. “It would be a shame if it were diminished further.”  

“It would be a shame if you dropped dead,” Nie Huaisang muttered into his palms.

“I am afraid I could not make out what Sect Leader Nie has just said.”

He raised his head from his hands to scowl at her petulantly. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll suck it up for a few more hours, okay. Are you happy?”

Hu Junhui’s smile was as lovely and immovable as jade. “I am always happy, Sect Leader. This one thanks you for your concern.” She bowed deeply. “If that is all?” 

Nie Huaisang huffed. Yeah yeah. Send Sect Leader Yao in on your way out.”

*

“Sorry, I can’t read.” 

“Sect Leader, this documentation is essential to the understanding of that province’s geopolitical landscape. If the negotiations go poorly QingheNie might lose our longstanding—and mutually beneficial—alliance with them.”

“And that sounds terrible, but I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’ve lost the ability to read. It’s tragic, I’ll never be able to read a good novel again, let alone poetry. I’m inconsolable. How will I go on? Every day will be so pale and lifeless without the magic of the written word to bring me joy—”

“Hu Junhui!”

“—oh, dammit.” Nie Huaisang cursed his previous self so harshly he might well have offended his progenitors as well.

“Sect Leader,” Hu Junhui greeted calmly, arriving with suspicious speed from a side door.

“...who?”

“The mountains of our sister province are exquisite,” she began without acknowledging his deflection. “The larch trees are especially beautiful in the autumn time. They are the only place in the world where one can find the superb pheasant—but of course Sect Leader Nie is aware of this. He is renowned for his knowledge of rare and wonderful birdlife. What a shame it would be if their borders were no longer open to travel from Qinghe! The textiles that come from that region are also incredible, as Sect Leader Nie knows. The local breed of goat produced an unequalled fibre, so if trade were to be impacted in some way—”

“I know all this already!” Nie Huaisang whined. “I don’t care about that, I already own loads of stuff from there, I don’t care. We’ve been allies for generations anyway, our relationship isn’t going to break down because I couldn’t remember some historical fact in one meeting.”

“Sect Leader Nie is very wise,” Hu Junhui said, bowing. “He of course knows that the newly installed regent is a notorious traditionalist and will demand many hours of discourse regarding their ties to Qinghe if he is not satisfied with QingheNie’s acknowledgement of their shared history. Meetings with him have been known to drag out for weeks.”

“...you’re making that up.”

“This one heard it from Sect Leader Jiang’s senior disciple during their visit in the spring.”

“...weeks?”

“Several.”

Nie Huaisang pressed his fingers to the pain throbbing in his temple. 

“Would you look at that. My ability to read has miraculously returned. What’s this?” He picked up a piece of paper at random. “A resignation letter from Hu Junhui? Ah, what a shame, what a shame. Well, enjoy the rest of your life, ayi, take care, say hello to your family for me, so long, safe travels!”

“I’ll leave you to your reading, Sect Leader,” Hu Junhui said as if he had not spoken. She already knew she’d won.

*

“I don’t care how important the annual audit is, I already told you I’m allergic to mathematics!”

“Hu Junhui!”

*

“I don’t care who he is, this meteor shower won’t appear again for twenty years!”

“Hu Junhui!”

*

“One more jar. If I have to meet with these people I’m at least going to be drunk for it.”

“Hu Junhui!”

*

“What do you mean I need to do it myself, that’s literally why I have disciples.”

“Hu Junhui!”

*

“Another hour, for heaven’s sake, it’s far too early to be awake!”

“Hu Junhui!”

*

“It’s not a ‘frivolous excursion’, I saw a blue-tailed bee-eater! What does it matter if there’s a discussion conference on!”

“Hu Junhui!”

*

Nie Huaisang blinked blearily at the figure in the doorway, vision swimming with liquor and tears.

“Sect Leader Nie.”

Nie Huaisang put his head back down on the table. “Who called you, Hu Junhui,” he slurred, exhausted. “I told them I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

“No one called for me, Sect Leader. We are all aware of what day it is.”

Then why are you here? He wanted to howl, but he couldn’t find the energy. He took another swig of wine, spilling half of it down his chin. It didn’t make much difference—his face was wet anyway. 

The room had grown dark at some point. Nie Huaisang had no idea how long he’d been sitting there drinking. He’d lain in bed until well after lunch, and no one had bothered to offer him dinner, knowing it would be refused.  

“Chifeng-zun would never begrudge his cherished younger brother the need to grieve, but it would pain him to see him neglect his health in any way.” Nie Huaisang didn’t answer. “This one knows he used to bring Sect Leader Nie congee on the anniversary of his mother’s death, because Sect Leader Nie found it difficult to eat. Chifeng-zun never let his brother drink alone, or to excess, on such days. It brought him comfort that he could at least provide for Sect Leader’s body when his heart was suffering.” Nie Huaisang swallowed thickly, the sound loud in the silent room. The tears had never really stopped, but they flowed freely once more, soaking into his hair. “Chifeng-zun would rest easily indeed, knowing his brother was caring for himself.”

Nie Huaisang’s hand slipped off the wine jug to flop limply to the ground. He heard the rustle of Hu Junhui’s clothing, and then a servant was placing a bowl of fragrant congee and jug of water on the table next to him. Hu Junhui thanked the servant, stepping close enough to pick up the wine jug and replace it with a handkerchief. 

She returned to the door and her clothes rustled again as she bowed. “Sect Leader.”

“Hu Junhui,” Nie huaisang said before she could close the door behind her. 

“Yes, Sect Leader?”

“Whoever hired you was pretty smart.”

“I have always thought so,” she said, her calm voice betraying a hint of warmth. “It is my honour to help him to be his best self. Goodnight, Sect Leader.”

“Goodnight, ayi.”

*

btw this is also on ao3 here, bc i am new to posting fic on tumblr and feel weird about it

[vfenrirsv]

When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones; When I die, let me go…

I couldn’t even begin to tell you when I last felt like I was myself; when I last felt proud of who I am, or where I came from, or of all the obstacles that I’ve had to overcome in order to get to where I am today.

I was born “Vanessa.” A Gemini, an Air sign, a Horse under Chinese astrology. Coyote is my Totem. Wolf is my Sacred Guide. In Greek the meaning of my name is “Butterfly,” also from Phanessa, the mystic goddess of an ancient Greek brotherhood bent on finding Truth. Various accounts offer the ideas that someone named “Vanessa” bears the qualities of beautiful and strong, and most importantly ‘always tough on the inside.’ To the latter, at least, I can attest.

My Mother, in my infancy, called me “‘Nessa” in affection and “Vanessa-Anne” in ire. If my Father ever called me by any name other than “Baby-girl;” I can’t remember. I don’t remember much about my Father before my early tweens, when I was forced by the courts to spend time with him in an attempt to foster some type of relationship with the man that my Mother had divorced.

In elementary school I was simply “Vanessa.” Straight-A student in all but mathematics, budding lover of arts and crafts, and defender of both my own and my Mother’s honor on the playground when kids teased me about acting like a tomboy, or not having a father.

Throughout secondary school I was largely invisible – called a number of racial slurs, though I never considered any of them my name, even when someone took the time to recognize me; to bully me. Being white in a community predominated by African American and Hispanic families didn’t grant me the illusionary honor of being called anything other than “Cracker” or, “Piglet” since my parents worked in law enforcement.

By then, I didn’t want to be “Vanessa.” I didn’t want to have a name at all. Silence and being invisible was better than being called out for all of the things that I had no control of. It wasn’t my fault that I was born white, or born into a broken home, or the product of two law enforcement officers who sought happiness outside of their careers. In a quickly emerging socio-economic climate where all three of those variables were prescribed as being abhorrent or fundamentally wrong, I was cast adrift to navigate those faults as if I had brought them upon myself by my own hand. “Dealt a bad hand,” as they say; but it didn’t matter. “She’s a tough little thing.”

When I die, you can push me out to sea; When I die, set me free…

I was in fifth grade when I thought about suicide for the first time. Those dark thoughts were the result of climbing onto an overly-full bus to go to school; only to find that the only available seat was being used to hold the book-bags for a trio of African American girls who took one look at me and sneered. I sat on the edge of the seat, careful not to disturb their property; but when the bus turned a corner, and one of their bags fell the floor; they immediately grabbed my hair, punched me in the stomach, and began to degrade me with every slur they could think of. I hated myself and my name for no other reason that it wasn’t socially acceptable to be who I was.

When my mother later confronted the counselor of the school, a robust African American woman herself; she was told something to the effect of “to take her whining child and leave.” The "counselor" never said my name, because to them, I was a nobody. I was invisible.

In high-school I was both “Van” and “’Ness,” depending on how close I was with the person calling my name. I fell into Art and Science, and always kept my nose in a book. I avoided most people like the plague. When I joined the marching band I wore long jackets even in the summer and did my best to ignore the jokes about me being shy, but for the first time in a long time I wasn’t invisible and I wasn’t nameless.

I wasn’t “Vanessa” anymore, I wasn’t the bullied and disgusting child of a single-parent officer. I clung to being “Van.” “Van” was the introverted Artist who hand-made t-shirts for several of her fellow marching band members, and who thrived in studying Marine Biology and Criminal Sciences. I cut my hair and dyed it bright colors. I played soccer in short shorts. I free dived the local haunts in brightly colored bathing suits, and learned to connect to my peers. I got piercings up both of my ears and a tattoo on my back. I stopped wearing clothing to hide within. I grew to trust and love a very small group of people that, to this day – even though I’ve hardly spoken to any of them in years – I still consider my family. “Van” was the antithesis to “Vanessa.” Where “Vanessa” was reclusive, anti-social, and forced to grow up fast, “Van” was vivacious, carefree, and youthful.

Just before my 19th Birthday I met M. Tall, dark, handsome, though 10 years my senior; everything a budding idiot of a young woman would look for in a man – minus the obvious red-flags of him being not-so-separated from his soon-to-be-ex-significant-other and going thru a messy divorce. I saw a man, deliciously off limits, and he saw a young woman unclaimed by any other. When we eventually came together he panted into the naked dip between my shoulders, and between his ragged breaths on the precipice of a climax, the name “Vanessa” – for the first time in years – didn’t make me flinch or shy away.

When I joined the military midway through my first year in college, I was only identified by my last name, as it was barked at me for eight weeks in Boot, and then used as the only true thing that I owned without cost, once I was sent to my duty stations. It was tacked onto my MOS and Rank each time I was reassigned or given a new task. It was efficient, neutral, and impersonal. I grew to be the same. My shipmates called me by rank in the office, and “Van” on shore leave.

Years after; after M’s successful divorce, a couple more of my birthdays, and a few new duty stations, I began to better understand who I was as “Van.” I cultivated myself and thought for sure that this is who I was meant to be, and that I was with the person that I was supposed to be with. I soon learned otherwise. M was man with the world at his feet, divorced, with a young virile military girlfriend, he could do anything his heart desired. He ended up desiring all options that were the opposite of my own. So, true to my name, I tempered the steel within me; handed him back the $10,000 engagement ring he had placed on my finger; and told him “I love you, but now I know that love – sometimes – isn’t enough;” and we separated.

When I die, let the sharks come 'round to feed; When I die, set me free…

When I was honorably discharged from the military I was left adrift to deal with my PTSD and clinical depression. No one called me by my last name anymore. I was a civilian now. I did my best to stay “Van” in all the ways that mattered. I clung to my confidence, my intelligence, my MOS skillset; but I was also now blunt, with a dark sense of humor, and didn’t associate well with people my own age. I was standoffish and curt, expecting the same manner of respect and accountability from my new civilian peers as I had grown accustomed to while in the service. I started asking people to simply call me “V.”

“It’s just easier,” I’d tell people with a smile, but the truth was that I didn’t know who I was anymore.

When I met S, I was still “V.” I was mysterious and adventurous. I was a vixen, a one night stand, a pirate queen who left a trail of broken hearts behind her, a woman out to see the world and maybe watch it burn. I was fun and brutal in equal measures. The military made me sharp, and S was more than rough around the edges. We fell for each other faster that might have been wise, took to one another like melodramatic lovers always do. There was carnal passion and dangerous motorcycle rides down highways at 3AM. There were nights when we wouldn’t speak at all, and it didn’t matter that I didn’t want to have a name, or that his name was all that I would whisper or scream for hours. There were risks of getting caught, of getting pregnant, of getting too attached. There were days when all we would do was talk, and yet for all of our words we would talk about nothing at all. There were days when I knew that I had fallen in love, and nights when I had convinced myself that I didn’t deserve a single bit of it.

When you don’t have a name and don’t care who you’re becoming; it doesn’t matter what happens next. So one day, I left. I made the excuse that I had been offered a job somewhere across the country, that I was going on a vacation, that I was interning with a university out in the desert. It didn’t matter what I said. I was already gone. Lying to myself about why I was cutting the strings became easier the further away I got. Years later, S and I ran into one another; and he fervently admitted that he had been in love with me and had been too stupid to say it. I admitted that I had felt much the same, but had been too broken to allow myself to believe it.

When I die, let the flames devour me; When I die, set me free…

I rounded out many of the sharp edges that the military had left me with by moving back home. I had found employment in the civilian sector that matched closely with my MOS in the military, and I had begun to try and make friends on my off days. Mostly, I spent my free-time outside. I’d kayak or free dive the freshwater rivers in my home region, hike the beach trails or brush-land. I’d camp on the beach some nights or lay in a hammock in the dark of the pinewood on others. My time in the isolation of wilderness taught me how to sit still with my own darkness, and I believed that I would be mentally equipped to handle it.

Then, I stopped looking for myself in nature and started dating. I felt that I was ready. Tough girls move forward, right? That’s how I met J: completely by accident. A friend of my brother’s from the same high school – we had crossed paths more than a few times; with him a football star and me Second Chair in marching band. He called me “Van” and it didn’t strike me as odd, knowing that he knew me from before; when being “Van” meant more than being “V.” We connected, and did well for a time. He got a job as a Deputy and I as a Dispatcher. Things seemed like they were beginning to align. I thought my future was in sight. He said my name with pride and affection when he introduced me to his parents. He breathed life back into the part of me that was both “Van” and “’Ness” and “Vanessa” in equal measures, fixing me with slivers of adoration, challenge, pride, hope, adventure, and affection. We had many of the same interests, he never once stopped showering me in affection, and J could make me feel like the most treasured woman in the room with nothing more than a wink.

Moving in together with his brother and brother’s girlfriend is what killed all of the fragile progress that had been made. I came home from a twelve hour shift one afternoon to his brother’s girlfriend screaming obscenities. I didn’t clean enough. I didn’t follow her rules enough. I wasn’t present enough, or friendly enough. I was too young at the time to understand that she was unhappy with more than just herself, that there were things going on in her life that had nothing to do with me; but all I heard was: “Vanessa” wasn’t good enough to be part of “this family” anymore. They didn’t want anything to do with “Van.” I fell apart, and I was too broken to accurately convey to J what her statements had done to me mentally, what his brother’s silence in the face of those blatantly vindictive statement had done to me. I wasn’t able to convey all of the damage that I believed was irrevocably done.

I closed in on myself and became “V” again. If they didn’t want “Van,” or “’Ness,” or “Vanessa” in their picture-perfect ideations of the familial future, then I’d do them all a favor and leave. So I ended it. Moved into my own place. Started over. “V” didn’t care if she left another broken heart to the surf; didn’t care if starting over caused more harm than good. “Van” began to have the same connotations as “Vanessa.” I was running out of nicknames and letters to remove from my name; as if parceling out portions of my appellation would allow me the illusion that I was – somehow – keeping it all together. I gathered what I had left of myself and pushed forward. If nothing else, I was ‘always tough on the inside,’ right?

When I die, throw my ashes to the breeze; When I die, scatter me…

Later, I met my ex-husband D, an Air Force veteran, and each step in our post-military journey together unknowingly brought us closer to our unavoidable divorce. We both had scars that weren’t truly healing over, and we both had been losing ourselves to our own different demons for years before we met. We both wanted a distraction, someone to fall into on the weekends. He didn’t mind that I wasn’t looking for more than a dalliance, and I was secure in the knowledge that I could use him to chase away the solitude while maintaining my independence. By the time we realized that we were mired in one another it was almost a surprise for both of us to find that our demons played well together. Everything seemed fine, until it wasn’t.

We were always on the move. Influenced by work or family or our own personal goals; we would set out to each new place with hope in our hearts and dreams of bright futures in our minds. We’d drag each other along with us; happy to be in the orbit of the other even if it meant more change. Florida, Georgia, Tennessee. Kentucky, Michigan, Colorado…Each move was a fresh start, right? Each move was a learning opportunity, an adventure, a chance to explore instead of putting down deep roots…

I cannot speak on his behalf, but in my reality, each move brought a new job that I needed to train for, understand, and master; with new titles that I needed to be worthy of, and new responsibilities that I needed to fulfill. Each new apartment complex would be a new contract and a new name that someone would call me by; “206B,” “Mrs. Vanessa,” “Miss Van,” or some hybrid combination of both my and his last name.

By Colorado we no longer wanted the same thing. I hated being “Mrs. Vanessa,” or some last name sphinx-crossbreed. “Mrs. Vanessa” had suddenly become a weekend step-mother to two young boys who neither wanted me or needed me in their lives; and was now the wife of a man who didn’t know what he wanted out of a career or a marriage. “Mrs. Vanessa” found herself far from any semblance of a home, in a relationship that was coming undone at the very seams.

D moved back to his childhood home in Michigan, and I stayed in Colorado. Alone. We were separated for several weeks; trying to figure out how to salvage what we had attempted to build together. Demons play well together until, unsurprisingly, they don’t. The time that we spent separated outnumbered the time that we had been factually married. The distance allowed us to say all of the things that we otherwise wouldn’t have said to each other’s faces. Full disclosure and transparency came at the cost of long distance calls and aggravated re-dials. We yelled. We cried. We drew the venom out of the wounds we’d inflicted upon each other and finally relented. We didn’t attempt marriage counseling.

When the years have torn me apart; Just Let me be…

In an attempt to patch the internal damage, I made friends outside of my job. We started game nights, hosted pot-lucks, explored Colorado, and I was able to truly find kinship in one of my new friends. A fellow Gemini, Air sign, military veteran, person who had lost their path but had managed to find their way. I connected with them, trusted them, and turned to them when I knew that the floundering of my marriage was inevitability going to result in failure. I was branching out, I told myself. It was healthy to make friends and not let myself wallow in the fact that I had failed at being a wife. I buckled down and filed for divorce. “Tough on the inside,” I reminded myself. Always. Tough. On. The. Inside.

Failure makes us vulnerable, and vulnerability leads to poor decisions. On New Year’s Eve in Colorado, leaning on the trust of friendship and the influence of alcohol, I was sexually assaulted by the very friend that I had turned to for support during my divorce. He called me “Vanessa.”

God, I hate that name.

I adopted a cat to quell the gathering dejection, violation, betrayal; the over-abundance of feeling everything and nothing at all, and requested an inter-agency job transfer out of state. I landed in Kansas. The divorce was finalized less than four months from the day I married my ex-husband. I was a newly-wed in August and a Divorcee in December. I forced myself forward and turned over a new page in January of that following year. ToughOnTheInsideGodDammit.

All the world is dark, and I've looked as far as I can see…

This time, I did not seek out friends outside of my job. I kept my relationships professional. I was more willing to hang out with someone from the office in a neutral setting, but would stay home elsewise. I stopped responding to the name “Vanessa” entirely.

Loneliness also makes us vulnerable, but in a different way; and that same vulnerability leads us to do one of two things: Cloister ourselves away and never interact with people again, or Muster up enough courage to try new things. I chose Option #2: I joined some dating websites. I met men and women alike, and I began to grow more confident in my skin. I was “Van” again and I liked who I was becoming. I was independent and I wasn’t allowing myself to crumble beneath the weight of everything that I had been through. As my namesake, I was determined to be tough on the inside.

Being strong and independent and courageous led me to J. He didn’t mind that I was imperfect, didn’t balk at my scars or my demons, and didn’t shy away from my past. J had a past of his own, had made mistakes of his own, had a life of lessons learned and adventures had of his own; so it didn’t seem so scary to open myself up again. To be someone more than “V.” He promised the world; a future with deep seated roots, the dream of a home, a family. I believed him. Like an idiot, I believed him. We married. We vowed to cleave to one another alone, to put each other before ourselves, to love each other unconditionally; to battle the world together. We swore to cherish and adore one another, to build a life together and never take each other for granted.

I try. I try so fucking hard. When I feel ignored, I buckle down and swallow it. When I feel stressed I keep it in to prevent stressing him out more than he claims he already is.

He calls me “Beautiful” and “The Best Thing to Ever Happen to Him,” but follows these hollow words with casual indifference and gentle disregard. He doesn’t abuse me, but he doesn’t cherish me either. He speaks of me with pride when he talks to his family; but does not stand up for or defend me when his Step-Mother disparages me and belittles my actions. “Babe,” he calls me “This is just how she is with everyone. You’re Amazing.” I am supposed to be content with that. I am supposed to be content with sitting in silence, hailed as “amazing,” or “beautiful,” or “the best.” Hollow words echo in silence. Distort. Sound false. Do not bear weight in their worthlessness.

I realize that I don’t even know the last time he has called me by name and meant it…Maybe it was the day we got married. Maybe it was the day he proposed. Maybe it was our second date...

I try harder. When I feel neglected I go out of my way to do things for him that would please him; I cook his favorite meals, I wear alluring lingerie, I clean the entire house and make sure that he doesn’t have to lift a finger after work. When all else fails I reach out to his best friend to ask for advice on what I can do to make things easier, better, for my husband. I set aside my own embarrassment at having to ask for insight from someone else, instead of getting the answers from my own husband’s mouth, as to why he doesn’t seem to want me anymore. “It’s not you, Babe,” he says. It’s difficult to stay tough on the inside when “It’s not you,” echoes hollow and sounds more like “I don’t have a reason.”

When we disagree, he calls me by my full name, tacking on his last name at the end, as if in joking-jest; as if calling me anything other than some form of dead endearment will lend seriousness to his statements. “I promise,” he says. “I love you,” he says. I am not angry that his words hold no meaning or value anymore. I am just angry that I can no longer trust anything he says. I am angry that more often than not there are no words at all, just furious silence.

When I die, just let me be…

I am angry that I have allowed myself to become this nameless, hopeless, loveless thing. I am not even “V,” at this point. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

The wife I have become is a meaningless thing. What communication can be had between a wife who tries best to express her feelings and desires to a husband who reacts with anger and frustration when faced with the truth? What future can be had when a husband will not be intimate with his wife? What value do a husband’s words have when each promise is broken, when there is no follow-through on simple tasks of keeping a home, fostering a relationship, or growing a friendship?

“Nessa” and “Vanessa-Anne” in equal measures, had been emotionally bruised by the divorce of her parents; learning early in life that sometimes letting go is the best option. “Vanessa” was poisoned by the realization that your name means nothing to those who take one look at you and refuse to learn who you truly are on the inside. Both “Van” and “’Ness” learned the fragile existence of friendship, and the aching stab of loneliness that comes after you open your heart to a select few only to grow apart from them for no other reason than life gets in the way. “Van” was sullied by the painful growth out of adolescence and the realization that love just isn’t enough. “V” was grown in cynicism, the desperate child of PTSD and depression, and knew the devastation and loss that comes with refusing to make bonds with other human beings.

When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones; When I die, just let me go…

So who am I now? I’m not even sure the wolves would know.

Daylight is waiting for you…

_________________________

“Who Am I?” by Vann Fenrirs Volchitsa, Author

“Wolves” by Down Like Silver, Lyrics

[talesofsonicasura]

Diamonds and Voodoo

Brothers and Bandicoots

This was rewritten when I discovered that the document had been nothing but a word salad. This one should be much better!

Taki-Taki returns to Morioh in order to fulfill a particular agreement. Sadly, all she got was her dad walking off, two brothers with daddy issues, egotistical assholes and bandicoot urine on a landmark. Oh joy.

"Yes. I would like to confirm this very information to the Speedwagon Foundation. Apparently defeating Angelo merely revealed a new part of the going ons in Morioh. Something that could only be trouble for everyone living here and maybe even further." Spoke Jotaro Kujo, the man currently on the phone in his hotel room.

Pictures of a now deceased Angelo's mugshot with a report paper taped to the back, another picture of a disembodied hand on a table set with breakfast for one, and a small booklet that read Morioh City's Report. The man could only stare at them with pure concern.

/I wasn't born with this power! No, it was given to me by a man in a student's uniform. He appeared in my cell one night. I was so scared that my balls were in my stomach. In his hand was an ancient bow and arrow, it had to be around 100 years old. Next thing I knew, he shot the arrow into my neck. Saying the reason I survived and got this power because my soul was so strong. If you kill me, then he'll come get you too!/

Information the man had given just before Josuke and Taki-Taki trapped the psycho in his current stone prison. It did answer quite a bit of questions stemming from an incident that happened 10 years ago. One which was entangled in the tragedy of the Joestar bloodline that started over a mere century ago. The blood feud between the Joestars and Dio Brando.

It begun when the Joestar Matriarch, George Joestar, had brought in an orphan boy after this boy's father passed. That boy was Dio Brando, a child whose immense hate turned him into the most vile and dangerous person in the history of mankind. Poisoning George Joestar, ruining the life of George's son Jonathan, becoming a vampire and then stealing Jonathan's body.

Those were some of the key facts amongst a lot of the vampiric bastard's sins. Jotaro then side eyed something at the far corner of the room, a picture frame whose photo was obscured by the distance. Sadness, and rage going through the ocean blue for a few seconds before fading. He turned his thoughts to something else.

"With the Arrow somewhere on the loose in Morioh, it won't be long until the town becomes a horror show. There's also that woman, Taki-Taki Bandicoot, I'll be keeping an eye on her. I don't trust her." His thoughts going back to his previous encounter with the greenette as he looked down on the table.

There were highly detailed sketches of her, Lani-Loli, Toxic and Quill, each marked with key details depending on the individual. The drawings were so accurate, it could be mistaken for a printout if it wasn't for the fact they were made using color pencils. Strangely there was one more sheet next to them but it was blank except for two simple words.

Crash Bandicoot.

"Come on Dad! We're supposed to see Josuke and his dickish nephew today!" The Wumpa Islands, a pair of three tropical islands found somewhere in the ocean near Australia. It was a home to all sorts of peculiar creatures, mystical areas hidden in every place wrought with all sorts of danger and full of mysterious magic. It was also where the infamous Bandicoot Clan made their residence.

N.Sanity Beach, which could be found on N.Sanity Island was a spot for the clan members to enjoy fun in the sun activities. A bunch of floaties with a tube one shaped like a purple dragon next to a volleyball net, a small bar set with seats for 5 and various drinks from non-alcoholic to a few different alcohol, a couch with a makeshift roof made from cloth, and strangely a fridge and TV on the sand.

Taki-Taki, currently by the couch, was trying to put a large hoodie on some... thing? Someone? It or he from the pronoun used stood around 4'7 in height, what wasn't obscured by the large jacket was a pair of blue jorts, red tennis shoes, orange fur covered legs and part of a orange furred lean stomach with yellow at the center. Distressed gibberish coming from the neck sleeve almost if the head was stuck.

Lani-Loli was merely watching the little show alongside another floating mask. This mask looked exactly like the small charm Taki-Taki had given Ryohei but larger with more details such as a goatee made of leaves, larger feathers that were funnily taped on the back, and was alive from the eyes and mouth both curved in a 'seriously?' look. There was no doubt that this particular mask was Aku-Aku.

With a strong tug, the hood finally came down over the large head of a...bandicoot. The almost cartoonish looking bandicoot had large ears, bright teal eyes with hints of innocent insanity, a brown mohawk of hair, a yellow muzzle and large brown bushy eyebrows. His hands were four fingered and covered by fingerless brown gloves.

"I don't know what's funnier: The fact two sane people are meeting Crash or about to learn that he's an actual bandicoot." Lani-Loli mischievously chuckled. Taki-Taki only said that Crash was her father but not about him being BIOLOGICAL. The greenette is actually adopted and the only human of a family consisting of bandicoots, living masks and other oddities.

"To be fair, she has been listening to my advice about being limited to her origins. Although from what I heard about your last encounter in Morioh, caution should still be advised. This is a whole new world we stumbled upon and there are rules to follow." Aku-Aku's deep, powerful and wise voice sent a clear message to everyone.

None of them had much knowledge about Stands but do know the consequences of their own powers, the mystical energy they wield known as Mojo. It was an ancient source of magic that not only fueled voodoo but all branches of sorcery. Something that could cause unimaginable damage if abused.

Mojo was what made Crash who he is, the powers that Lani-Loli and Aku-Aku have, and what Taki-Taki is learning to master but also the consequences if abused that made creatures like Quill and Toxic. Creatures with great power but have the potential to cause devastation if they run amok: Titans.

If that Stand granting Arrow is being constantly misused and what powers a Stand could potentially manifest, Morioh wasn't as safe as it should be. And there might be its own Titans lurking in the shadows. For now, their true nature needed to be limited whenever visiting the town lest the situation could become worse.

Who knows what kind of horror can manifest if Mojo mixed with a Stand?

The Higashitaka household was a bit offbeat nowadays. Due to the recent 'stroke' that the older matriarch had suffered, the aura of the home for the family of three was a bit rugged. Ryohei had been laid off of his work for a bit as both his employers and fellow officers were worried about the man's health. He was what kept the force happy and ready to go.

Thus he was stuck at home being looked over by his daughter Tomoko and grandson Josuke from time to time. Taki-Taki was currently standing by the door with her father Crash next to her. Her face was obscured by the large hood of his jacket. Lani-Loli and Aku-Aku were currently hidden in Taki's jacket so they wouldn't be seen.

She knocked on the door politely despite how loud it sounded. "Hold on!" A woman's voice fires back in an instant. In a few seconds, the door was opened by a young woman who both father and daughter could guess was Josuke's mother. Josuke definitely got his soft face and beauty from her but Ryohei's kindness was there too.

Her hair was violet and short, eyes a similar baby blue to Josuke but more fiery, she was slim though there definitely was some muscle hidden by her yellow shirt and dark jeans. "Hello! Are you Josuke's mom? He does have your looks and you do look a bit like Mr Ryohei." Her odd deduction had the purplette surprised for a moment.

Then hearing her father's name was enough to put two to two together. "You're right, I'm his mother Tomoko and Ryohei is my father. Are you by chance Taki-Taki Bandicoot? I heard about you from my dad and son. Dad was right about you being adorable. Whose this with you?" Her voice, although soft and kind, held a ferocity behind it. Josuke's fiery temper had to come from someone.

"This is my dad, Crash. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, I couldn't get home for a few days. Josuke let me stay here until I got back but under the condition that he had to talk about my stay with pops." Tomoko easily remembered her son mentioning that when she had gotten back home later that day.

Although she couldn't help but look at the figure that was Taki's father. There was not a single facial feature to make out due to the darkness of the large hoodie he wore but it was his hands that drew flags. Was the orange section part of the gloves and did he lose a finger in an accident? The hands were very odd and that orange part had a texture that looked more fur than leather or latex. Still...

"I'm sorry to say but Josuke had left for school today. Luckily he should be out by now. He attends Budo-ga Oka which isn't that far from Angelo's Rock, the new landmark which recently popped up." Taki-Taki immediately knew what she was talking about. It was near the place where that adorable turtle in the makeshift pond lived at. Shouldn't be too hard to find.

The Haunt House, an eerie landmark of sorts located near the recent Angelo's Rock. This large home could be recognized from the various broken windows that were either without glass or boarded up haphazardly, old paint that chipped away from even the gentlest of breezes and the vine covered gate with the tilted door marked by a 'No Trespassing' sign.

It was called the Haunt House from the feeling of being watched or the eyes of something watching in the shadows of the window whenever someone walks by. Police often patrolled the place for squatters due to these particular sightings and reports. Coming to the backyard strangely enough was the hoodie form of Crash Bandicoot.

From the glimpse of marsupial's green eyes and lack of companions, it was clear that he was lost. He let out a rumble of pure gibberish obviously annoyed. 'Maybe I should've stayed at that rock weirdo… Then again, Taki probably might not be happy to know I no longer have to go.' Crash let out an impish chuckle. Just because he was evolved doesn't mean he stopped 'marking his territory'.

'Dad, I need you to stay here with Angelo for me. If Josuke still isn't at school, then he'll most likely come through here to get home. It shouldn't take long for us to come back.' His daughter's words echoing in his head.

He felt a bit ashamed for not listening. It just he wasn't used to standing in one place for so long if it didn't involve napping. The bandicoot had a silly smile thinking about a nice snooze in his hammock after a nice slice of Wumpa Fruit pie. The little daydream was popped by the sound of soft skittering that hit his large furry ears.

Crash looked up before tilting his left ear towards the creepy house. The sound had to be somewhere in the upper levels from how it reverberated through the walls. Whatever made it was too big for an insect or small cat to do. Spying an open window with the least amount of boards, the bandicoot giggled to himself as an idea came. Little claws popped from the marsupial's fingers with a simple flex before he leapt onto the wall. Once the talons had a good grip, Crash climbed up the house wall and slipped in through the empty window pane.

"Motherfucker!" "Language!" Heterochromia eyes could only glare at the currently shivering stone convict. Taki had gone over to the school Tomoko mentioned after requesting her dad to stay put. Sadly, they couldn't find any sign of Josuke and looking for Jotaro was impossible without the pompadour prince's help. After visiting the little turtle in the pond, the greenette and her mask companions backtracked to the landmark.

Yet, her mutant bandicoot father was nowhere to be found and a foul smelling puddle was now present on the rock's lips. Normally something as gross as this got her laughing but at the moment the witch doctor was just annoyed. "Guess we were gone for a bit too long. Patience isn't something Crash normally has these days." Lani-Loli said while looking at the wet spot in distaste.

None of them should be surprised that the bandicoot would wander off somewhere. Luckily or disgustingly, there was a scent that could be used to find their lost marsupial. The witch doctor went into her jacket pocket to pull out a small vial that contained a soft luminous blue liquid. Taking off the small cork, Taki downed the tube's contents in a single gulp.

After placing the empty glass tube back in the pocket, the witch doctor then reached into the dinosaur skull she wore. Her hand pulled out a small peculiar object that was hidden in her bone headwear. It appeared to be a fang of some sort but was too thick, too large, and oddly too sharp to belong to any normal animal. Lani-Loli and Aku-Aku exchanged looks then quickly getting a few feet from Taki before she devoured the tooth with gusto.

In an instant, her eyes narrowed into slits and tattoos blazed to life in burning blue. She suddenly hunched down as if in pain followed by the sound of beastial snarling. The statue could only stare in perpetual terror upon the morphing shadow that started to cascade over him. Tears pouring from the frozen orbs from the sight of what could only be best described as a monster.

A distorted scraping noise ripped through the ominously quiet neighborhood before it was quickly followed by the sound of shattering pavement. This ruckus came from the front of Morioh's Haunt House for a battle was being waged at its steps. One of the fighters was Josuke whose uniform was dirtied up a bit along with a few scratches on his face. It was the least of his worries though.

Standing in an defensive position was another teenager around his age and size, a male Stand User from the bright fiery blue aura that flared his form. He had the look of a punk, shaved black hair that looked gray with a mini pompadour which sat at the mods, his eyes that seemed to only have impish pupils alongside a thin but large X-shaped scar or line pattern on his head.

The punk wore a modified blue gakuran with multiple gold pins shaped like money symbols on the fabric. "I won't say this again. Okuyasu Nijimura, you better let me through you bastard! Koichi isn't part of whatever bullshit your up to!" Josuke snarled at his opponent with hot daggers in his baby blue eyes.

The now named Okuyasu merely let out an impish chuckle before speaking with a rough and ruggish voice. "Sorry pal but you'll have to go through me first! Come closer and greet The Hand!" Almost on cue, a white hand with two bulbous baseball patterned protrusions on the palm came from behind the teen's head. The pomp prince quickly jumped to the side as the appendage swatted at his previous position instead, the 'No Trespassing' sign.

Alarms bells went through his head upon noticing the sign wasn't destroyed but it wasn't the same either. The text looked...too short almost if something was missing or had disappeared. It then clicked upon another glance of the item. "That sign! It used to say 'No Trespassing' but now it only says 'No passing'! Your Stand scraped the 'tres' away!"

Josuke's deductions caused his opponent's smile to grow malicious. The spectral arm next to the young man transitioning into something larger. In seconds that limb had fully materialized its true form, a white humanoid puppet outlined by blue armor bearing gold money symbols. The puppet shared a similar build to his master, its colorless hide sharing the same hardened texture of the armor, and his head was held in a white pail bucket that obscured part of its yellow lined eyes and the almost expressionless lips.

"That's right Josuke! My Stand can scrape away anything that it's right hand touches before closing the missing space together. I don't know where it goes or even if it still exists anymore but I do know you'll be sure to follow!" The Hand then scraped the air as a green tear rips right through the dimension. It immediately shuts closed in seconds as the purplette soon found his opponent in front of him at the same time.

He had used the created tear to close the distance between them. Okuyasu held his fist back almost about to speak when… the sound of whistling flew over their heads as a blast of glowing pink had sent Josuke's attacker airborne upon striking his Stand in the chest. The pompadour prince only had the time to blink before a pair of animalistic heterochromia eyes looked back at his.

What stood before had to be one of Taki-Taki's creatures, nothing could have been as odd or mystical like they strangely were. However this one felt off in a familiar sort of way. The creature looked like a bipedal almost anthropomorphic fox. It was monstrous with spindly long arms paired with black paws that held sharp claws, limber and lean build that was perfect for predatory stealth, the face was foxish but could be mistaken for a coyote or cougar from the longer ears and snout, and there were large purple parrot feathers on its back in a leafy plumage manner.

The off signs came from the tattoos around its arm that looked too much like Taki-Taki's, the greenish short hair on its head and the dinosaur skull… It immediately clicked on what or who had just defended his bacon. "Holy shit. Taki-Taki, is that you?" His query being answered upon a large prickly tongue licking his face courteous of the 9 ft beast that once was a human girl.

Josuke's face turned beet red and he honestly couldn't say if it was in disgust, embarrassment or touched by the sticky dog kiss. "Josuke?!" He whipped his head to see Lani-Loli flying over to the two but immediately stopped from the sound of hyena/wolf growling. Eyes were on the now standing Okuyasu who then looked flabbergasted by the new faces.

"What the hell?! Is one of those things that scrawny munchkin's Stand?! Or some sort of monster? No matter, The Hand will scrape you all out of existence!" His Stand manifesting once more with the right hand ready to erase even more space. Sadly, he didn't anticipate what particular creature the greenette was.

Letting out a loud hyena-like cackle Taki threw a large but fast pink orb of energy straight from her hand. It was a glowing magenta torpedo that clipped through the side of the Stand's right wrist in seconds. Okuyasu howled in pain from a chunk of his right wrist exploding outward almost if his body was mirroring the Hand's injury.

"The Snipe, a predatory beast that hunts its targets with high speed projectiles and is a close range fighter's worse nightmare!" Lani-Loli spoke while watching the green haired beast pounce at the off guard teen. Her feet instantly knocked the air out of Okuyasu's chest which forced his Stand to vanish from the lack of breath. He could only look up at the large drooling teeth of the angry beast that currently had him pinned down in fear.

His eyes quickly shut almost if waiting for the end only to scrunch his face in confusion by a soft touch. With a small peek, the young man was greeted to the sight of the large monster's forehead gently pressed against his own. A strange sensation going through his mind in a second before it- no she looked back at him with sympathy.

Taki then looked over to Josuke and Lani-Loli before the feathers on her back started glowing in strange patterns. The purplette was confused by the odd signals but the Quantum Mask knew what it meant. It was a sign of Morse Code Taki had developed for this form. "Josuke! Heal him, this guy isn't your enemy! Apparently he has a reasonable story behind this attack! Something involving his father!"

Lani-Loli's words made Okuyasu's eyes widen in realization. "You...went through my head? You saw the 'thing'." That last word practically quivered in silent despair and sorrow. Taki merely nodded her head before getting off the teenager. She quickly stalked towards the Haunt House. The harsh stench of blood hit her nose full force which turned a small crawl into an urgent run.

Her predatory eyes immediately ignored the man in the darkness for the childlike teenager that was slowly dying on the ground. He had short well groomed silver hair, light almost pasty skin and wore a plain green gakuran but his blue eyes were slowly becoming lifeless from the nasty arrow wound in his neck. Taki knew he would die if he wasn't treated.

"How curious. You the child's Stand or perhaps belong to-" The female Snipe growled before nonchalantly tossing a blast of pink at the unwanted pest. The man must've scurried out of the way from the sound of wood exploding to chips. Knowing there wasn't going to be an interruption, Taki reached for one of her feathers and plucked it off her back.

Holding the item in hand, she let out growls that sounded close to a chant as the piece of parrot plumage began to glow a soothing green. Taki crushed the feather in her hand as it broke into verdant stardust before pouring the powder over the large gouge on the boy's neck. The large wound immediately glowed a vibrant emerald as it steadily shrank. In seconds, the large gash was gone and the young man's eyes regained its vivid color once his breathing had steadied.

He blinked once more before blue eyes settled on the large beast hovering above him. A normal reaction to the sight was to scream but instead he felt his neck and noticed that his injuries were completely gone. Taki definitely knew he was a calculative and reasonable type since he put two to two together. "You...saved me." Despite the youth in his voice, the slight baritone was enough to solidify that this was a teenager and not a child.

"Koichi!" Josuke bursted into the house alongside Lani-Loli and oddly a determined Okuyasu who was following from behind. The punk looking teen no longer had any rips on his clothing or flesh, almost if everything was returned to their previous state. "Big brother, you need to stop right now! These guys can help us! Help d-" He was cut off when Taki quickly got in front of him.

Multiple tiny holes manifesting on her hide and feather plumage as if she was hit with bullet rounds from a tiny minigun. The puncture wounds weren't deep enough to draw blood since she wasn't human at the moment but… they had enough strength to disfigure a normal person like blood swiss cheese.

Taki snarled at the attackers, no, attacker to be precise. The ones to fire the barrage of nasty tiny bullets was an entire shooting squadron that consisted of toy army sized men. Same military clothing but the faces covered in white taping, eyes just beady red headlights and a thick flame of blue around them.

When the witch doctor like this, the number of magic she could use was limited but made difficult spells like mind reading or healing very easy. Okuyasu's memories told her what exactly she was dealing with. The platinum blonde teenager slightly older than Okuyasu, his older brother Keicho and his Stand, a mini army known as Bad Company.

"Big brother…" Was all the younger brother could say upon realization that the attack was aimed for him. Taki gave the three human males behind her a look. 'He's mine.' None of them said a word of disagreement. Knowing what was about to happen, Lani-Loli took it upon himself to get Josuke and his two accomplices away from the approaching battle.

The three humans and mask vanished in a sudden puff of wispy blue smoke. Taki-Taki's sharp nose told her that her friend had taken them to the higher floors of the house. A safe place which made the monstrous witch doctor happy for they wouldn't get caught in the crossfire. She then turned her head to snarl viciously at Okuyasu's older brother.

"I can only guess that little mask has the power to teleport others. No matter, it won't take long for my Bad Company to find them once I finish you off. Then your friends will be next." Keicho's threat was backed further when a swarm of mini helicopters manifested in the air. "Fire!"

The Snipe quickly sprinted into a run as the mini army fired their payloads in the form of raining bullets and mini missiles. Wood chips, glass shards, and furniture stuffing erupted in a trail that hounded the quick Taki-Taki, avoiding the deadly miniature ammunition with impressive. She leapt onto the ceiling fan and flung herself into the air whilst throwing another blast of pink energy from her claws.

A large chunk of soldiers and a few helicopters exploded into magenta tinted flames from a successful hit. However, their owner didn't seem to suffer any sign of damage despite the destruction of his soldiers. "Sorry but my Bad Company is a remote Stand. Destroy all the soldiers you want, you can't harm me!" Keicho's words caused even more miniature men to manifest but these ones were operating tanks now!

Taki knew she couldn't fight here with so many weapons aimed at her hide. She would run out of steam before her opponent did. An idea then clicked into Taki's skull which propelled her to make a quick turn. She tossed a few more explosive shots at the tiny army as she ran. Every bullet was a bullseye as even more of Bad Company's soldiers went up in magenta smoke.

Her opponent quickly caught onto what the larger puffs of smoke that slowly filled the room were. "A smokescreen?!" Eyes looking to find the obscured beastie that ran up the stairs and he quickly glared. "After it!" Multiple tiny helicopters manifested to hound their fleeing target as the blonde followed in pursuit.

On the top floor of the Haunt House, Josuke was currently glaring daggers at a certain blue mask. The sounds of an explosive scuffle happening under his feet and a set of blue spectral chains that kept the door of their current location shut. "Lani-Loli, let us out!"

Despite the pompadour prince's demand, the Quantum Mask only shook his head in nervous defiance. "N-no way! You'll be either swiss cheese from gunfire or human flambe by blasts of Mojo! It's suicide!" Lani-Loli fired back with force despite his slight stutter. Of course, the mask flinched when Crazy Diamond manifested with a snarl on his face.

The only ones not getting involved in the potential scuffle was Okuyasu and Koichi who sat on the bed at the opposite side of the room. In the silver haired teen's hands was a yellowish pale egg with green stripes but also radiated a faint verdant aura. A Stand or Stand Egg that had manifested from Koichi's throat once getting into the room.

"I don't care if Taki can become one of those beasts like Quill or Toxic. She needs backup if her opponent's an army!" The large armored Stand clenched his fists as if ready to let loose a punch any second. "That's enough!" An aged voice immediately had the three teens raise their guard to the point even Okuyasu's The Hand manifested next to his master.

Coming through one of the half sealed windows was Aku-Aku whose appearance made whatever fight in either Josuke or Crazy Diamond vanish. "Aku! Where were you?! First Crash went puff then you go awol on us!" Lani-Loli was quickly hushed by a single look from his companion. Glowing yellow eyes then looked at the other members of the room.

"I had a feeling you were in quite a pickle so I went to find Crash first. He's somewhere in the house on the top floor waiting for you. As for Taki-Taki, her opponent is about to walk right into her 'tripwire'." Aku spoke as his gaze fixated on Josuke and his stand. The pompadour youth speaking up in confusion. "Tripwire?"

The tiki-esqe mask nodded in response at the inquiry. "Correct. Snipes are powerful long range fighters especially in confined spaces like this. Their biggest advantage isn't their ability to blast opponents with magic." A smirk then crossed Aku-Aku's face as if knowing the outcome of the ongoing battle.

Taki-Taki continued her trek up the house as Keicho and his forces relentlessly pursued the female. Every time a soldier or copter was in sight, the greenette blasted it with a pink energy shot before she took the chance to flee further. Her running however came to a halt once she reached a mostly clean room. Not a single shred of furniture or anything to hide the witch doctor's large form in sight.

"Got you now." Keicho's voice echoed through the room for hundreds of small soldiers filled it in seconds. Tanks slipping in from the vents, helicopters pouring from the open windows, armored humvees riding up from the stair railing and their owner walking in from the staircase. Taki-Taki wasn't to blind to the fact she was boxed in.

"I'll admit you're quite the fast runner and a nasty sniper. Sadly, this is the worst place for something as large as you. However, my Bad Company can thrive throughout our home base. I suggest you be a good beast and stay down." The older teen deviously chuckled as he stared down at the beast. His laughter quickly died in seconds when he noticed Taki-Taki was now smiling. A smile that revealed razor sharp fangs in a cunningly vicious way.

"It's the ability to set traps is what makes the Snipe a very dangerous Titan to fight."

Bits of pink began to lit up in sections of the room. Her opponent's eyes flickering to the source before they expanded in pure horror. Each light was coming from one of his soldiers in every group. Not even the quadcopters, tanks or humvees were unaffected. The horrifying part was the lights were blinking and were becoming faster per a second. 'Checkmate.'

The house shook hard as a loud explosion ripped throughout one of the floors, smoke tainted with hints of sparkling pink came pouring from the broken windows. In the large mist, the sound of coughing growls turned into pained ones as the large beast obscured shrunk in the purple haze. The remainder of the colorful screen filtered out as the now human Taki-Taki looked down at her fallen opponent.

Keicho was unconscious, bruises and burns covering his face and arms, platinum locks singed slightly black while billowing bits of smoke poured from the strands of hair and his uniform was charred with multiple holes through it. "The Phantom Bomber, a nice Snipe technique which lets undetectable bombs get planted on the enemy. The more collected in one spot, the bigger the boom." She walked over and hoisted the teen on her shoulders without a hint of strain.

Climbing up the stairs, the greenette could hear the voices of her friends from above. With some pep in her step, Taki ran up the stretch of stairs as the unconscious Nijimura brother shook and bounced. It didn't take long for heterochromatic eyes to stare back at a pair of baby blue. Everyone but her father was gathered outside of one specific door.

That door having the sound of familiar babble from behind its wooden threshold. "Taki-Taki! You're okay?!" Josuke looked ready to hug her if he didn't catch sight of Okuyasu's injured brother slung over the greenette's shoulder. "Big brother!" The teen quickly rushed over to his sibling. "Don't worry. He's alright albeit beaten up. Plus, his ego needed a nice kick so common sense can walk back in." The witch doctor chuckled, smiling with her tongue out.

Before anyone could go through the door, a particular situation needed to be handled first. A soft gold aura from Crazy Diamond enveloped the wounded platinum blonde in its soothing embrace. Wounds and damages done to both flesh and clothing vanished in seconds as the teen slowly woke up.

Keicho looked at all the faces surrounding him before he settled to glare at the woman who was the large beast from earlier. "You're lucky I'm a merciful person and you care about your family more than you let on. So, how long has your dad been cursed?" Taki-Taki's words surprised everyone but Lani-Loli, Aku-Aku and Okuyasu for obvious reasons.

There was a reason why the Nijimura brothers, well mainly Keicho, were using the Stand Arrow to create Stand Users. It was for the sake of their father. From Okuyasu's memories, their father had gotten into 'bad' connections with Dio. A deal of sorts that had more consequences than the man had thought. Upon Dio's death, bits of the vampire's flesh that were implanted in their dad had triggered a transformation of sorts.

A being unable to speak and unable to die that skittered through the halls of their home like a mouse for years. "Are you capable of giving him his eternal rest? We've been searching for someone that could extinguish that mindless 'thing' who used to be our father." His plea shook with pure desperate hope and sincere sorrow.

Reasonable for spending years in a house with a monster that was once your father, especially one mistaken for being mindless. "Have you noticed something odd about your home right now?" The question from the witch doctor was enough to widen the eyes of both brothers. It was the lack of skittering from something large that constantly moved through the house.

"Your father isn't mindless or gone. He's still there." Taki-Taki then opened the door to the room. Everyone was greeted to the appearance of a particular marsupial talking to an odd kappa-like creature. The being had thick green skin, slightly deformed from the lumps on his body such as the head or fingers, what appeared to be a beak for a mouth and wore worn clothes such as a white shirt and black shorts.

This had to be the Nijimura brothers' cursed father but what was strange is that he was showing a hoodless Crash something. An old photograph from the slight yellow coloration that showed a man and two very familiar young children smiling at the camera. The two were conversing in unintelligible babble but both clearly understood the other.

"That's our old family photo… He was searching for the photo of what he used to be…" The fact from Okuyasu's lips was enough to paint the picture for them. Despite the vast deformity, their father still remembered them, of their family before it all went to hell. The other oddity in the room finally hit everyone unaware of it.

"What's with the giant animal? It looks like an eastern barred bandicoot...if it was a living mascot costume." Koichi's question was paired with him pointing at the large marsupial. "Seriously dad? If you want to make friends then tell us instead of going into some rando's house after peeing on a town landmark."

The comical looks of eyeballs about to pop out from their sockets and jaws dropping to the floor made the greenette wish that she brought a camera seeing everyone's face. It was even funnier that the pompadour prince's hair looked ready to pop from the intensity of his utter shock. Surprisingly, Josuke was the first to get his speech back.

"T-that's your dad?! H-h-how?!" Now that done it for the greenette began laughing upon the purplette's insinuation. "Hahahaha! I'm adopted silly. Crash raised me ever since I was a baby that got washed ashore on his island. He may be a 'mentally challenged' wacky bandicoot but he's still my dad!"

The marsupial walked over and hugged Taki-Taki before placing a hand on her back. His pose and chest puffed up proudly practically screamed 'Yep, that's my daughter.' Strangely enough, it did make some sense about the young woman's oddness. Both Taki-Taki and Crash carried that same energetic weirdness to them.

"Aw. Such a sweet moment. Sweet enough to make me puke!" An unrecognizable male voice immediately had eyes facing the front. Part of the wall was charged with frantic electricity as if something was inside the wiring. It was easy to tell it was bad news from Keicho's sudden grimace.

One of the power outlets immediately exploded outward in large yellow bolts of electricity. The malevolent energy crackling as it began to form into a near physical entity. This new form resembled a bright yellow kappa from the beak and near egg shaped dish on its head with a long spindly lizard tail, thin almost featureless body and sparks of electricity crackling from its skin.

However it was the items it had that drew up red flags for everyone. In this being's clawed fingers was an ancient bow and arrow. The same ones no doubt capable of granting someone a Stand. "Oh no! Is that the Bow and Arrow, the one you guys have been talking about!?" Lani-Loli's cry made the electrifying entity smile maliciously.

"Guess who's Stand has fully awakened Nijimura? I honestly thought nothing would get you to drop your guard of the Arrow but I guess that chick and her friends was just enough! It was almost easy to snatch it with my Red Hot Chili Pepper's power!" The platinum blonde could only growl at his careless mistake. He was too caught up in his pursuit of powerful Stand Users to realize this kind of outcome.

"Do you really think your capable of wielding the Arrow's power? Your Stand has only just awakened after all! There's no way you can wield it properly!" Keicho hissed while the blue aura of his Stand began to flare up. The enemy Stand or Red Hot Chili Pepper merely laughed before aiming his glare on the blond.

"So naive. My Stand's powers had grown while you were busy. After all, you did say those with a powerful fighting spirit can manifest equally powerful Stands. Here let me show you!" It was quick as a bolt of lightning. One second Chili Pepper was at the socket and the next he was about to punch Keicho's chest. Only if a spin of orange didn't jump in front of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' range.

The Stand merely continued its charge only to cry out in shock when a twirling fist hit his face alongside a glare that were both from Crash Bandicoot. Chili Pepper was smacked back inside the electrical socket from the marsupial's Tornado Spin technique as Crash stood protectively in front of the older Nijimura Brother.

"Lani-Loli!" Aku-Aku's cry wasn't missed as the two masks quickly went into action. Both of them focused a bit of their magic that was quickly released in the form of a violent bluish stream. The shot struck the power outlet as the yellow electricity that threatened to return was shoved back inside the wiring so hard that the sockets literally exploded.

A scream of 'You'll pay for this!' followed until the leftover sparks crackled into nothing. "You saved my life… Why? Why help your enemy?!" Keicho questioned whilst staring at the orange bandicoot. Crash mere made a bunch of hand signals before smiling with a thumbs up. It was sign language.

"He said 'No family should mourn for a death that could be avoided.' Sure you tried to kill me, shot Koichi, created an army of Stand Users and tried to shoot your brother's face but you were only being a big jackass so your family didn't have to suffer. Your lives are already messed up as it is, you don't need it to become even worse."

The older teen who didn't expect the response widened his eyes before he subtly began to chuckle. "You all are insane." The sentence only made a stupid grin pop on the father and daughter duo's face. Everyone's attention was soon back on the blown power outlet.

"I fear that this situation has escalated into unimaginable levels. Creating a cure to the Nijimura matriarch shouldn't be difficult for me to find. However, that Bow and Arrow needs to be recovered as soon as possible. I could only fear what kind of horrors it could create in the hands of that fiend." Aku-Aku's warning wasn't lost on anyone.

Things were only to get more dangerous from now on.

I hope this was much better than my original script! There will be changes to some of Part 4's plot mainly that some deaths will be averted like Ryohei's and Keicho's. I honestly felt it was a dick to kill Keicho instead of using the chance to give him some character.

Taki-Taki's Beast Out ability has made an appearance. This lets her transform into any non-human creature whether it is a familiar or by consuming particular materials with a special potion. Kinda like N Brio's potions but more refined. Her magic is mostly restricted along with speech for particular Titans but she gets access to two powerful spells that can be set on a specific form. Her Snipe form having Mind Read and Advanced Healing Magic.

Crash deflecting an electric Stand like Red Hot Chili Pepper isn't so farfetched if you take the Cortex battle in the first Crash game. He's also more of a forgiving person when you take into consideration his interactions with Cortex in both Twinsanity but also some flashback tapes I heard about in Crash 4.

And Jotaro having trust issues is normal considering how many bad encounters he had with Stand Users especially in Part 3.

Until next time folks! Enjoy this Crash Bandicoot 4 Rap by JT Machinima.

[theewrites-tf2]

(Kudos to @teamfortressaswell for the idea, OC REVIVAL FOR 2020!!!)

OC information of Theewrites, ENJOY Y’ALL!

WARNING: LONG, LOOOOOONG POST AHEAD! (And I info-dump alot, so be prepared for some heavy reading material)

(Also, not all of these backstories/OC canon’s are set in stone, and i’m still doing research on their respective characterizations/lifestyles/ect. they’re still in the editing/drafting process, but these are the basics of some of my older OC’s that you may know… and some of my NEW Oc’s that you may NOT know…. Yet, Mwhahaha!)

Regine: Eldest abandoned & disowned daughter of the RED Spy. Born in Marseilles, France, Parisian-raised until five years of age. Vanished suddenly for nearly a decade, resurfaced in Japan as an assassin prodigy at fifteen. Is totally not soft on her half-siblings, but is totally soft on her half-siblings. Cool, regal and calculated, plans to have the world in the palm of her hand before she hits 30. Long-time girlfriend of Matthias, identifies as pan. Has lost her temper one (1) time in her lifetime, immediately went to reapply lipstick afterwards like nothing happened. Definitely has night-terrors about her childhood, doesn’t discuss them with Matthias, and absolutely takes those nightmares to the grave.

Matthias: Unauthorized clone of the RED Medic, is physically near-identical to him with only minor changes and a stark age-reduction. Has considered bleaching/dying his hair to look more different than his predecessor. Expert in human biology and chemistry, experimented with his own blood cells so to transform them into a more… internal version of the components of the Medi-Gun, so as not to carry around clunky equipment. Is the low-key tired dad of the group. Probably designate roadtrips with the squad and immediately regrets it. Romantic-dork for his girl,  Best Supporting Boyfriend 197X.

Emma: Daughter of Ex-MannCo employee, Julia V. Henry and [REDACTED]. Legal goddaughter of Dell Congher. Child-genius, though deep-seated anger issues since childhood, potentially as a behavior coping tragedy. Built her first plane with her bare hands at twelve, can dismantle and rebuild a shotgun in exactly 63 seconds. Doesn’t wear helmets on motorcycle. Feels happiest flying in the air, alone. Absolutely, 100% adores kids, and will never admit it. Can’t go more than a minute without cursing. Also, though not information she shares immediately, she’s an elder twin. And she doesn’t like talking about it, so it’s best not to push her luck on the details.

Lui: Ultimate flower/pastel lesbian. Fluent in Japanese and English, though prefers her mother’s language, Hawaiian. Brings snacks to battle, often rehearses her battle catchphrases the night before. Makes friends with every animal she meets, owns a duck named Bartholomew. Reads teen fashion magazines, draws hearts around models she crushes on. Almost everything she owns has pink, no matter what shade, including her rocket launcher. Shares Emma’s love of the sky, is basically Emma’s favorite person. Infectious genuine smile, and will sing along to every new bop on the radio.

Tamela: The eldest out of the entire group, born in Nigeria, doesn’t know her parents. Considers her squad her family, Emma and Lui are her baby sisters, who can MORE than handle themselves but she still worries. Was gifted with abilities of fire-manipulation/telekinesis and heat resistance at a young age. Entire body, from knuckles to toes, is covered in jet-black flame tattoos. Demisexual, has not been in a romantic relationship as of yet, likely to change. Improvo leader, often first into battle and last to leave. Looks imposing and intense at first glance, is actually very warm (haha) and friendly personality-wise, but has a serious streak from having to grow up quickly.

Denny: Mute from birth, youngest of the group. Has never missed a shot in his life, expert target-shooter and excellent sniping protege. Definitely idolizes Annie Oakley, dressed up as her one year for Halloween.  Often corrects Emma’s sign-language, but appreciates her efforts. Like Tamela, see’s the group as his family, sticking together through thick and thin. Likes to hike, but also enjoys reading, keeping a raggy, decades-old copy of Sherlock Holmes in his knapsack, right next to his additional ammo.

Ricardo: Born Rosetta, the youngest of a fairly well-off hotel-chain family business throughout Tijuana, Mexico. Was often the forgotten one and left to his own devices, so he practiced running, dreaming of being an Olympic runner. Became Ricardo at 15, traveled to the US a year later. A bit boastful and chatty, though is often last to get a joke. Had a crush on Lui for sometime, before reconnecting with an old schoolmate, Maria, who he plans to move back to Mexico with after his job is done. Hasn’t given up on the dreams of the Olympics, often wakes up long before the sun rises to run laps around.

Sigríður Anja Dis Jóhannsson, or just Sig: Operational MannCo. Shipment Specialist Expert, has been on the payroll for only the last decade, but has become invaluable with the knowledge she has. Born in Iceland, has traveled the world on specialized shipment and cargo missions, even in more dangerous missions and item-requests. Has had to play poker for her own life, more than once. Single and childless, though she took care of her half-sisters children when she died suddenly, her niece and nephews now all grown up and located elsewhere. Sig is happy to travel alone on the open seas, though she’s had more than a fair amount of lovers around the world, men and women alike. Looks forward to retirement, hopefully with someone more long-term whose also ready to lean back, put away the balisong and let the kids take care of the damn gravel pit…

Jonathan Marks: Born Jane to wealthy stockbroker located in Manhattan, Jonathan is the promising CEO of Marks Enterprises, an international trading and environmental-studies. As the youngest CEO of his company, he’s expressing interest to making big changes, including looking into MannCo, hoping to form a co-ownership or eventually takeover, mostly for the sake of his own company, but the fact that MannCo seems to have a few secrets in the closet that seem suspicious… Jonathan knows Regine from childhood, as they both attended the same private school in Japan, prior to Jonathan’s transition. Very book-smart, often tries to lead by example, he’s persistent with getting a meeting with representatives of MannCo, growing more suspicious as time goes on with dodged replies, forcing him to contact a current employee for an opportunity of a private tour of their facilities, one Miss. Binyamin-M’laney

Angelita de los Reyes: Second-generation of Cuban immigrants, Angelita was considered one of the kindest, sweetest people while in school in New Jersey, unfortunately, her studies were often halted as she suffers from CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) leaving her exhausted before noon often times, though she managed to graduate with a specialty in painting. Though she turned mostly house-ridden after high school, she honestly enjoys spending her day painting and creating art to decorate the family-restaurant downstairs, and also sending her artwork to commissioners all over the state. It also gives her time to send plenty of letters to one of her oldest and closest friends from high-school. He was VERY much higher than her in energy, and could literally run blocks in minutes, but they practically grew up together, at least until he moved to New Mexico for work… Though, strangely enough, Angelita doesn’t get much information about Eric’s company Builders League United, even though he has a whole CONTRACT with them… Hm. How odd.

Sarai Binyamin-M’laney: Born in Tel Aviv as a Mizrahi Jewish woman, her parents sent her to vacation in California when she was six, in which they died suddenly, leaving her overseas with her relatives in Cambria, California. Book-smart and a lover of the beach and surfing, Sarai was popular throughout her younger years, especially with the ladies. Though she identified as bisexual, it wasn’t until she graduated college with a degree in human relations and psychology that she had her first, though admittedly short-lived relationship with an unnamed man in Vegas, returning to Cambria shortly after and finding out she was pregnant. A year later, Sarai suddenly expressed interest in the minute human-resources division in MannCo, relocating to New Mexico shortly after her employment. Quiet, smart and with a very private personal life, she was a perfect, though secretive employee, with a bit of a soft-heart, as seen with how concerned she is for her ‘niece’ and ‘nephew’ back in Cambria, and how quickly she snuck in Mr Marks into the private industries. Her personality, perhaps, is meant to be a more opposing to that of the father of her two children in Cambria. After all, though she lives mere miles from his work location, Sarai has yet to bring herself to walk over and face the red-suited mercenary over in the RED base, whom she still can’t help but remember from their time together in Vegas.

 I told y’all it was long as hell, Also it alludes to my OC-canon, which is INSANELY long and i’d hate to waste more of y’alls time on my stuff Xp

 Anyway, GO REVIVE THE OC COMMUNITY, PEOPLE HAVE SUCH AWESOME OC’S THAT NEED/DESERVE TO BE SHARED AROUND!!!

[choicesfanatic86]

If Only: Chapter 13 (Liam x MC)

DISCLAIMER:  All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story.  Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS:  Liam x Riley (MC)

SUMMARY:  Andy and Jana are Riley’s best friends, how we they handle the news that Riley went against Andy’s suggestion of becoming “unwed?”

Permanent Tag List:  @umccall71 @drakelover78 @jamielea81 @bobasheebaby @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @theroyalweisme @gardeningourmet @jlouise88 @hamulau @traeumerinwitzhelden @blackcatkita @mrs-simmy @kaitycole @alwaysthebestchoice @mfackenthal @trr-duchessofvaltoria @pbchoicesobsessed

TAGS:  @kawairinrin @gracechoices @madaraism @starstruckzonkoperatorbat  @zilch3 @herladyshipxx @mspaigemoore @writtenbycandy @choiceswreckedme @jayjay879 @queencatherynerhys @asprankle @hdcathcart @ranishajay @viktoriapetit @boneandfur @flyawayblue56�� @xxrainbowprincessxx @diamond-dreamland @liamxs-world @flowerpowell @crookedslimecreatorpasta @debramcg1106 @ladynonsense @hellospunkiebrewster 

06/10/18 - Hi everyone!!! So sorry for the delay in getting the new chapters up.  Work was crazy (as expected), but I am having a wonderful three day weekend, so I’m hoping to get a lot more writing in today so that I can post throughout this week. :)

Tags have been updated, if I missed anyone, just message me! That seems to work a bit better. :) As always thanks for reading!! It’s crazy to think there are so many people devoted to these stories! <3 Thank you guys so much, and if you have any questions or suggestions for future stories or one shots, I’m open to ideas. :)

Chapter 13

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” She arched her eyebrows a bit worried.  “He isn’t the easiest man to deal with.  It might be best if I do it alone . . . breaking the news to him that is,” she said softly.  “There’s a lot he’s going to need to hear, and I don’t know how he’s going to take it.”

Liam shook his head firmly.  “No.  I’ll be with you.  I don’t want the beginning of our marriage to be fraught with strain due to a disagreement with your father.”  He ran a nervous hand through his hair as they walked out toward the rental car.  “I’ll take all the heat he gives me, because I deserve it.  If we had done a proper courtship, I would have gotten to know him . . . taken the time to ask for your hand in marriage.  We didn’t have that luxury, and I suppose it was wrong of me to disrespect his role as your father . . . but I don’t regret any of this.  I just want to show him that I’m going to take care of you,” he said as he looked deeply into her eyes, his hand caressed her cheeks as he was about to lean and kiss her when they were startled by the annoying blaring of a car’s horn.

“Come on already, get back to the room and do that mushy crap,” Drake yelled from the car window.

Maxwell was smiling broadly in the back seat, while Bertrand sulked in the passenger seat next to Drake.  The newlyweds blushed as they hurried back to the car.  She couldn’t believe that any of this was actually happening.  She still felt as if she were living out some crazy fantasy instead of her life.  The excitement was short lived when she realized she’d have to face the music soon.  She realized that she didn’t just have her father to worry about.  She needed to talk to Andy and Jana.  And they weren’t going to like the fact that she planned to stay married to Liam.  She began to wonder who would take the news worse . . . Andy had been so angry with her this morning that she didn’t know if she’d ever speak to her again.  Jana was at least a bit more receptive of things, but she didn’t know how it would fare when she’d have to explain that she would be relocating . . . out of the country.

“Drake, do you know where this motel is?” Riley asked, pulling up the reservations on her phone to show him the address and general vicinity on her mapping app.

“Not really, but I can probably figure it out,” he sighed.  “Aren’t you and Liam going to be at the Bellagio?”

“I was just about to ask that exact question,” Liam turned to her in confusion.  “Married couples tend to share the same space together, love.”

“Yes, of course,” Riley blushed.  “But I need to let my friends know what’s going on and get the rest of my things,” she explained.  “Especially if we’re going to try and get out on the first flight to New York.  Speaking of which, I should start looking up ticket prices,” she sighed, opening up one of the travel apps on her phone.

Liam laughed a bit loudly.  “Darling, I have my own plane to take us to New York.  We can leave whenever our schedule sees fit,” he explained to her.

She hadn’t thought about that.  She bit her lip slightly, a bit overwhelmed with his revelation.  “Huh,” she said thoughtfully.  “I knew things would be different once we agreed to stay married . . . I just didn’t realize how much,” she murmured, her fingers playing with the engagement ring that sat snugly on her left hand.  “So, if I say we need to head out to New York in say an hour, you could make that happen?” she asked with a great deal of interest.

He smirked.  “An hour might be cutting it a little close, but I could probably make something like that happen, yes,” he nodded.

She felt like pinching herself.  “Wow, okay, that’s pretty crazy,” she said quietly.

“Your Majesty, might I suggest you skip the trip to New York . . . your parents are rather concerned, and it would be ideal to get back to Cordonia as soon as feasibly possible.  Damage control is still underway, and there is the small matter of Duchess Olivia . . .” he trailed off.

“Bertrand,” Liam sighed.  “If you’re so concerned about the state of affairs back home, I can charter a plane for you to head back to Cordonia tonight.  I’m sure my father and Regina will be delighted to have you working on what you’ve called damage control,” he said tersely.

Bertrand pursed his lips in a single, thin line.  “I suppose that may be best,” he said softly.  “Might I suggest that Maxwell and Drake return with me?”

“I was hoping to go to New York,” Maxwell chimed in.  “Right Drake?  Weren’t you just talking about seeing Times Square?”

“If Liam needs us to go back to Cordonia, I’m all for it,” he shrugged.  Maxwell looked at him as if he had stabbed him through the heart.  Riley could see the hurt from the betrayal in his eyes.  She wouldn’t mind if they tagged along.  Bertrand, yes, she most definitely thought that the first flight back to Cordonia would be wise, but the other two hadn’t seemed too bad.

Liam gave the matter some thought before shaking his head.  “Maxwell, it might be better for you and Drake to return with Bertrand.  I’m not sure how long matters will take to settle in New York, and would hate for you to be in a state of limbo until firmer arrangements can be made,” he explained.

Maxwell nodded, a bit disappointed, but understanding none the less.  Drake simply shrugged.  He seemed to be the type of guy to go with the flow no matter what.  Despite not appreciating her initial encounter with him, he didn’t seem as awful as Bertrand.  She was more than happy to get rid of him.  

“Surely you won’t be staying there indefinitely,” Bertrand gasped.

“No, just until Riley is comfortable with leaving for Cordonia.  I’m assuming she’ll have to meet with her employer, her school, her landlord, and of course her father . . . we’ll have much to settle in New York upon her return,” he rubbed Riley’s shoulder comfortingly.

She could already feel the tension be released from her shoulders.  What was it about him that helped her feel so relaxed and safe?  Normally, she erred on the cautious side.  She liked to play it safe and make sure that she had a full understanding of everything that was going on around her.  With Liam, she had allowed herself to literally take a giant leap of faith, and she was enjoying every single moment of it.  The way he took care of her and made her feel so comfortable . . . she had never felt that way about anyone before.

“Where do I park?” Drake asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“There’s a guest parking lot,” she motioned toward the side of the building.

“This is how far we have fallen,” Bertrand shook his head in dismay.  “A motel,” he sighed.

“It’s all we could afford,” Riley explained.  “Vegas isn’t cheap, and neither are airline tickets from New York.”

“It’s so . . . small and . . . un-Vegas-like,” Maxwell said thoughtfully.  “Who knew such hotels existed?”

“Well . .. it’s actually a motel, and it’s for people who are on a budget,” she tried to explain it at different angle, but was still met with wary glances.

“It’s for people like me,” Drake motioned to himself, when the two brothers clearly weren’t making the connection.  “Poor . . . not into the fancy pantsy sort of deal . . .” he trailed off.

She didn’t have to look at him to know that he was already sneering.  “What is it now, Bertrand?”

“I’m pondering if our vehicle will be safe here?” He asked seriously.

“Bertrand,” Liam said firmly.  “Enough.”  

The group got out of the car, and headed toward the lobby of the hotel.  They were right of course; it wasn’t anything to look at in comparison to the Bellagio.  The Bellagio was grand, spectacular and just oozed luxury . . . this . . . this did not.  She found it a bit amusing how the brothers Beaumont were attempting not to touch any of the surfaces around them.  As if a single touch would contaminate them with some sort of commoner disease.  Watching them take in the dingy hotel was a nice distraction from the overwhelming thoughts of dealing with her two best friends.  She loved them, and they loved her, and that’s why she knew telling them she didn’t get “unwed,” as Andy has suggested, would be difficult.

“Where on earth have you been?” Jana scolded.  Riley barely had her key card in the door before it has been thrust open in front of her.  “We expected you back over two hours ago,” Jana fumed.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she sighed.  “There was a bit of a complication . . .” Riley murmured.  “Sorry for the trouble.  I just got caught up in everything.”

Jana and Andy froze, staring at the group of men behind her.  “So . . . I have guests,” she tried to sound lively, but was failing miserably.  She was so worried about how they’d take the news, she could feel her anxiety rising.  It was important for her that Andy and Jana support her in this marriage.  They were her best friends, and after all the insane decisions they had made over the years, the least they could do was support her when she went a little off her rocker.  

Andy pursed her lips as she saw the men in front of her.  “Which one is it?” She asked angrily.

Riley shot her a pleading look to behave, and she saw Jana pinch her arm.  At least one of them was trying to be civil.

“Guys . . . this is Liam,” she wrapped her hand in his, looking to him for strength.  “And these are his friends Drake, Maxwell and Bertrand,” she went down the line.  “Guys, these are my friends Andy and Jana,” she motioned to the girls.

All of them gave a tiny wave.  The tension in the room was palpable.  Andy was making it exceedingly difficult for anyone to get familiar with one another.  She and Bertrand could have made a pair.  He looked absolutely devastated about the marriage and looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“So, you’re the guy she got drunk with and ended up married to?” Andy accused, pointing at Liam.

Liam nodded uncomfortably, shuffling his feet from under him.  Riley cringed.  This is not how she wanted things to go.  She wanted her friends to see how charming Liam was and how kind he was.  But clearly, Andy was in no need for pleasantries.  She was the clear winner in the “who’s more pissed off about this” competition.

Jana rolled her eyes.  “Give them a chance to sit down before you start bringing out the big guns, Andy.” She sighed.  “Would any of you like anything to drink?  We have a mini-bar with some liquid fortification,” she suggested.

“Whiskey?”  Drake asked, unable to hide his eagerness.

“Of course,” Jana smiled.  “Anyone else?”

“Bourbon?”  Bertrand cleared his throat from behind Maxwell.

“Um, no sorry . . . I do have beer and tequila though,” Jana murmured.

Bertrand frowned.  “I’ll take the whiskey,” he sighed.  “I’ll need it,” he muttered.

“May as well pour me a glass, too,” Andy snorted.  “I’ll need to be drunk to deal with all of this.”

Riley frowned.  Alcohol was the last thing they needed.  She was a prime example of why you shouldn’t drink tequila.  She still couldn’t remember what happened between the ceremony and their wedding night, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to considering Liam told her she had done a lot of celebratory shots with Tequila.  Lord knows what else had happened.  She would happily go decades without remembering that small bit of information.  Alcohol would not help anything in this situation.  If anything, it would make things a whole lot worse.  She needed Andy and Jana sober.  Drunk and angry?  Yeah that wasn’t a good mix.  Not at all.

Riley shot Liam a pleading look and he caught the hint immediately.  “Guys, why don’t we give these ladies a few private moments to chat?  Maybe we can wait here why they speak in the bedroom?” Liam suggested.

“Hey, you know our girl all of a day and you think you can start calling the shots around here?” Andy asked, sticking her finger in Liam’s chest.

“Andy!” Riley scolded.

Liam smiled, clearing his throat.  “It’s not the quantity of the time spent together, but the quality, and the quality has been unforgettable,” he said quietly, giving Riley a half smile before he motioned for the guys to come around him rather than lurking by the doorway.

Riley ushered Jana and Andy into the bedroom, shooting Liam a grateful smile.  

“Smooth,” Jana smirked.  “I kind of like him already,” she smiled.  “His friends aren’t half bad either,” she chuckled.  “The one in denim is pretty hot,” she sighed, fanning herself dramatically.

“Stop,” Riley said firmly, but she stifled a grin while saying it.  

Andy shot her an angry look, to which Jana shrugged.  “What?”

“Stop taking her side on all of this.  This isn’t a joking matter,” Andy said.

“What?” Jana arched an eyebrow.  “Are you seriously back on that again?  What are you talking about?  Because I said the dude is smooth with really hot friends?”

“Yes! He’s not smooth . . . he’s manipulative . . . and his friends aren’t hot . . . not even a little bit!”

“Andy!” Riley yelled again.

“No, I’m sorry Riley . . . I know I said I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m taking one for the team here and telling you that you have lost your fucking mind,” she exclaimed.  “Lost it . . . as in it’s nowhere in Vegas . . . the Riley I know would never do something like this.  Let alone continue with this charade.  She’d have the guy thoroughly vetted before even saying yes to going out with him . . . and then we come to Vegas and you skip the whole dating thing and jump straight into marriage . . . to a complete stranger.  Is he even from here?”

Riley sighed.  “No, he’s not.”  She shook her head.

“Oh my God!” She exclaimed.  “Do you understand how serious this is?  This isn’t a game.  Where’s he from?”

“Cordonia,” Riley said quietly.

“Cor-where?” Andy said, her voice rising even louder.

“It’s a small country in Europe,” she explained.

“Jesus Christ, Riley.  He’s not even American?”

“Andy, calm down.  You’re just making things worse,” Jana interrupted her ranting.

“What does it matter if he’s not American?” Riley asked confused.

“He could be some con artist looking for a quickie green card,” Andy reasoned.  “What if he thinks you’re rich and takes you for half of what you have?”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Riley sighed.  “One, because I don’t have anything worth sharing and two, he actually does rather well for himself.”

“How do you know that?  Because he told you?” Andy snorted.

“I believe him,” she said confidently.  “He’s actually a bit of a big deal back in his country,” she explained.

“A big deal?  What do you mean?” Jana asked.

“He’s royal,” Riley exhaled a bit nervously.  “He’s the crown prince,” she added.

“You’ve got to be shitting me?” Andy said her mouth gaping open.  “And you believed that load of bullshit?”

Riley frowned.  “It’s not bullshit, Andy.  Everything he’s told me has been the truth,” she affirmed.

“Riley . . .” Jana said slowly, taking on a slightly different approach than Andy.  “You understand how all of this sounds right?”

“Yeah . . . yeah I do,” she shrugged.  “But if he was just looking to get in my pants, why did he work so hard to help me remember things? Huh?  And why did he come here to meet you guys?  Why is he flying me home to talk to my father?”

Jana looked toward Andy, “Are you sure he’s trustworthy?”

“I mean . . . I haven’t Googled him or anything,” Riley shrugged.  “Do you want me to Google him?  Will that appease you guys?”

“Not really.” Andy snorted.  “Nothing about this entire situation will make me feel better.  What happened to the plan about getting unwed, Riley?” Andy shrieked.

“Look . . . I know that’s what you wanted me to do, but I just . . . I couldn’t, okay?” Riley said desperately.

“Why not?” Jana asked.  “I know you were on the fence about things, but why did you change your mind?”

“Because I fell in love with him, alright?  Is that so hard to understand?” Riley said, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

“Yes, actually it is.  You were wasted Riley.  Completely and utterly shit-faced wasted,” Andy sighed.

“I wasn’t.” She said firmly.

“How do you know?” Jana asked.

“I remembered most of what happened last night . . . and I wanted to marry him . . . and even when we realized there was a problem with the license . . . I still chose to marry him,” she said firmly.

“Whoa, a problem with the license?”  Jana asked, a bit confused.  “Like you weren’t technically married?”

“We’re married,” she said with certainty.  “I just forgot to sign the license, but we fixed everything this afternoon.”

“You’re such an idiot!” Andy screamed.  “You had a chance to forget all of this ever happened, and you go ahead and sign the damn thing?”

“Andy, knock it off.  Ri, you wanted this?”  Jana asked slowly.  “You made the coherent decision to be married to him?”

“Yes, haven’t you been listening?  I wanted this.  I still want this.  Hell, I’ll probably still want this ten years from now,” Riley laughed, tears streaming down his face.  “I’m so crazy in love with him, I can’t even explain it.”

“So you’re just going off to Europe with him?  He’s probably not even a prince!” Andy yelled, ignoring everything Riley had said.

“They can probably hear every single word that you’re saying,” Jana tried to quiet Andy down, but she just wouldn’t listen.

“Good! I want them to hear this.  This is insane, Riley.  Where’s that huge brain of yours?  It’s obviously not working right if you think all of this was actually a good idea.”

“God, Andy! Enough.  I’ve taken enough of your verbal abuse over the last twenty-four hours.  I’m sorry your ex-boyfriend was a scumbag.  I’m sorry he fucked you over.  I really am, but don’t try and take your anti-man tirade out on me.  Liam has been nothing but kind and caring since I’ve met him.  Yes . . . the circumstances surrounding our meeting and subsequent marriage were a bit foggy, but I have since remembered a good chunk of our night together, and really . . . I’m just in love, okay?  I’m in love,” she shrugged.  “And if you can’t accept this and you want to continue berating me about my life choices . . . then fine, but I’m not going to stick around to hear it . . .and you know what . . . we probably won’t see each other for a while, because yeah, I’m going to Europe with him,” she fumed.

“Riley – “ Jana tried to intervene.

“No, I don’t want to hear it.  You two are supposed to be my best friends.  I’ve supported both of you in every stupid decision you’ve ever made . . . and clearly you both thought your ideas were rather brilliant at the time . . . so if I mess this up . . . let me do it and learn from it okay?  Just . . . support me and be happy for me.  Because guys, for the first time in years, I feel like I can breathe again . . . and I just don’t want that feeling to ever go away.”

“You’re moving . . . just like that?” Andy asked, her eyes softening.  “You’re serious?”

“Yes . . .he’s my husband.  I have to go with him,” she said with resolve.

“What about school?” Jana asked.

“I’m dropping out . . . it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life anyway,” she shrugged.  “Dad’ll be pissed, but whatever . . . it’s my life, and if I don’t want to be a doctor . . .then I’m not going to be a doctor,” she said confidently.

The girls remained silence.  Riley was happy to have a moment of quiet to finally catch her breath and calm her nerves.  She had been so angry at Andy, that she couldn’t stop herself from lashing out at her.  She didn’t want it to get to that point, but she didn’t seem to have any other options.  It looked like her friends were finally accepting the fact that this was happening.  It was real.  The marriage, their love, the moving to Europe . . . everything she had just thrust onto them was going to be happening, and the reality was sinking in fast.

“I’m sorry,” Andy murmured breaking through the awkward silence.  “You’re right . . . I should be more supportive,” she shrugged.  “If this is what you want, then I can’t stop you.  I guess . . . I guess I’m just a little jealous.  I just always thought that I’d be the first one out of all of us to get married . . . Brent and I were together for so long . . .” she trailed off.

“Yeah, but Brent was an asshole, and I’m glad you dumped his sorry ass,” Riley sighed.  “But Liam is not Brent.  He’s decent and funny and really affectionate.  I don’t want to lose this opportunity to be with him,” she said firmly.

“You’re right . . . are you sure he’s being honest?  About the prince thing?” Andy asked.

“Because it’s kind of a bit much, Ri.” Jana added in.

“I’m certain,” she nodded.  “His friends corroborated everything he was telling me, and apparently, things have kind of taken a nosedive back home.  Once I settle things in New York, I’ll be flying back with him.  That’ll be much worse than this, I’m sure,” she sighed.

“Sorry,” Jana said quietly.  “We should have been the least of your concerns,” she said thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” Riley shrugged.  “But what can you do?  You were upset because you care about me right?”

Both women nodded.

“Right, so let’s just move forward okay?”

“Did you want us to go back with you?  To New York?” Jana asked.  “We can help you pack some things up from the apartment.”

Riley shook her head.  “No, finish out your weekend.  Have fun.  I’ll be in touch soon, okay?”

“So this is it?” Andy asked, her voice cracking.

“Not forever,” Riley reached out to them for a hug.  “I just have some things to square away and then I’ll be back for visits,” she explained.

Andy exhaled loudly.  “Okay then . . . okay,” she said skeptically.  “Need help packing up your stuff?” She asked quietly.

“That’d be great,” Riley smiled lightly.

“I’ll get your bag,” Jana said.

The rest of the time in the room was spent in silence, as the girls helped Riley gather the last of her belongings.  Since they were only there for the weekend, there wasn’t much.  She could have easily done it by herself in about ten minutes, but they needed this time together.  It was crazy how there was such a huge rush of emotions flowing through her.  Was it really possible to be happy and sad at the same time?  Because that was exactly how she felt.  She felt excited and happy to embark on this new journey with Liam, but she couldn’t help but feel sad about leaving Andy and Jana behind.  They’d been part of her world for so long, she didn’t know what she’d do without them.  It suddenly struck her that this was probably going to be the last time they were all together for quite some time.  

She hugged her friends tightly once more before heading back out into the other room.  They murmured promises of staying in touch, and Riley assured them once more that she’d be fine.  As she entered the other room, she saw Liam waiting on the couch, but the others were nowhere in sight. “Did you hear all of that?” She asked, pulling her overnight bag behind her.  “Where are the others?” She asked, noticing that their quintet had suddenly become a duo.

Liam nodded, grabbing the handle out of her hand and taking over carrying it down the motel’s hallway.  “I sent the guys off to pack for their return to Cordonia.  We’ll have to take a cab back to the Bellagio, but I just didn’t think it was appropriate for them to hear your private discussions with your friends,” he explained.  “Paper thin walls and all that,” he mused.

“But you stayed?” Riley questioned.

“Well . . . yes . . . you see, I just made these vows to a lovely woman about being there for her for better or worse . . .and quite frankly, that did sound like a worse moment,” he murmured kissing her forehead.

“It got pretty heated,” Riley acknowledged.  “But I think we’re okay . . . or at least we will be,” she sighed.  “They’re going to stay here and finish out the weekend,” Riley stated.  “It’s for the best, New York is going to be a beast in itself,” she said.  She had already been dreading the whole “I married a stranger in Vegas” conversation with her father.  Not to mention, she had the added bonus of telling him “by the way, I’m dropping out of medical school and moving to Europe,” as well.

“Well perhaps once things settle down, we can have them as our guests in Cordonia . . . not right away . . . maybe after the honeymoon period wears off,” he smiled.

“You’d do that . . . for me?” She asked.

“Of course,” he nodded.  “I don’t want to steal you away from your life, Riley.  I understand that you had a wonderful life before me.  They’re a part of that life, and I wouldn’t dare to tear them away from you.  You’re giving up so much for me . . . for a life you really have no understanding of.  Anytime you’d like to go for visits or have them visit us, I’ll arrange it.  The same for your father, unless, that is, he’d like to move with us.  That could be arranged as well,” he murmured.

As they got into the cab, she turned to him, a deeply, loving look in her eyes.  “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?  To do all of that . . . for me?”  Her smile grew brighter.  “How can I thank you enough?” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Maybe finish what we started?” He asked, kissing the top of her head.  “As I recall . . . you wanted your memory jogged a bit further,” he said a bit suggestively with a large smirk on his face.  “The couch . . . or the bed . . .” he trailed off.

“That . . .that I did,” she smirked back at him, reaching up to kiss his lips softly.

[badoperafanfiction]

Captives:

Chapter(x), with 5<x<7

Work: Lucia di Lammermoor/La Boheme crossover

Vampire!Ashtons, Fairy!Bucklaws.

Notes: Arturo and Lucia both survived their wedding night.

Main character: Marcello (for the most part)

Author notes: Whatever

When Rudolfo  was taken upstairs via a ladder through a disused lavatory which lead to the kitchen through a small courtyard. He was beginning to wonder at the architecture of this place. When he entered the kitchen, a small army of kitchen maids began to scold him for getting in their way, which put him in a rather awkward situation, because the Lord Ashton had completely vanished from sight. When he finally managed to break their ranks and lodge himself in the trench that had been dug in the downstairs hallway to provide shelter from the heavy culinary artillery, he had a moment of respite to consider what he had just seen and what it meant.

Ashton had charged him with silence. Therefore, he had to ensure that the secret got out. The trouble was doing this in such a manner as to prevent implicating himself, and thus damning his companions. As crawled through the mud and into the safe-zone, he tried to piece together what they knew about the situation so far. Lord Ashton’s sister had been in love with a human. She had married a fairy instead. She went mad and attempted to kill the fairy, then Ashton turned the lover and locked him in the basement, then went to kidnap a small posse of Frenchmen to serve as a potential foodsource for the brood. While he was there, he picked up one such Frenchman’s ex-lover as his own fiance.

Aside from the fact that it would make a damn good opera, this was certainly the most useless conspiracy that Rudolfo had ever stumbled upon. It was so needlessly convoluted that it had surely been devised by a fairy for the express purposes of entrapping somebody in some sort of bargain or contract, except that the fairy was obviously stupidly amateur considering it hadn’t really succeeded in trapping anybody, so much as connecting a variety of disparate (and each uniquely melodramatic and pointless) parts.

---

Marcello had spent days agonizing over his paintings and their dilemma. He was not convinced (none of them were) that the mere knowledge of the scandal would help their case with Bucklaw, considering the information was safely sealed away. Fairies did not necessarily take well to blackmail.

Scandal did fill his mind, though, and he was something of an expert at making them - an art learned from the greatest master of all: Musetta. There were skeletons in this family’s closet, and people who hid their skeletons were usually adept at making more of them.

There was an unexpected knock at his (open) door. It was unexpected because nobody in this house ever bothered to knock except a few of the servants, and they were always conveniently out of scene. He looked up from his painting to see the Lord Bucklaw himself standing just outside the doorway with a charming, yet somewhat bashful smile. Marcello’s first thought was to redirect him to Schaunard’s room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Arturo said. “Since I was by, I thought I would stop to visit. Are you well, since last we spoke?”

Marcello, in that meantime, had accidentally invented surrealism in his ever-growing frustrations with the painting, but he was also making a steady advance on the larger commission itself. He allowed himself a deep sigh. “If you can define ‘well’ loosely in order to encompass this never-ending monotony and imprisonment, I suppose I am quite well.” He rubbed his temples, inadvertently getting paint in his hair.

“I’m again apologetic for my brother-in-law’s ill treatment of you,” Arturo replied with a frown and a quirk of his lips. “As a man, I’m horrified at this situation. Unfortunately, I’m not just a man, and I can’t violate the law of his house while I’m in it.”

“But these paintings are for you, are they not? She’s your wife, correct?”

“That merely puts me in more of a bind. You are, for the purposes of this exercise, one of his resources; and he is freely using his resources to provide this service. I’m no more bound to him than the laws of kinship demand since she is his sister, but it would be impossible to violate our terms.”

At first, Marcello’s lungs were alight with fiery rage, but it was short-lived. He sighed, his body sagging under the weight of it. This isolation was wearing on all of them. In particular, as the difficulties mounted, his more self-reflective friends were beginning to withdraw in their various ways; Marcello, for his part, was of a much more social temperament, and he was getting lonely. Rudolfo was his chief companion, but Rudolfo’s contemplations were becoming more private by the day, and Schaunard was often occupied with his usual employment in the vampire’s dining room or parlor. Colline, it seemed, had all but vanished; they saw him frequently, but he enjoyed their company from a silent corner, and often slipped away so furtively that not even Schaunard dared to follow him.

He had intended to make a quip. None came to mind. He wanted at least to complain. He wanted an excuse to throw fists and to shout until the rafters rattled. At the moment, he didn’t have that energy, nor the foolhardiness that came with being presented with the cause of anger. He had spent too much time considering Arturo as a potential ally to become overcome by rage for him.

“May I come in?” Arturo asked quietly, breaking into Marcello’s thoughts.

“Why don’t we walk instead?” Marcello suggested, brightening his voice as best he could. “I’m dreadfully cooped up here.”

Arturo fidgeted uncomfortably. “I don’t know that it’s wise to go together into the parts of the house frequented by Ashton,” he said.

Marcello shrunk further in despair. He knew this was wise, of course, but he needed some sort of company, some sort of stimulation.

“It’s still daylight, though,” Arturo hastily added. “are you permitted in the courtyards? I’m sure we could both do with some fresh air.”

“That sounds acceptable,” Marcello said, although he was certainly days away from a complete breakdown.

~~~~

Of the four of them, Schaunard spent the most time with their vampire overlord. This was because, of the four of them, he was the only one whose art the vampire actually liked. Schaunard had taken some drastic actions in the past to get out of unpleasant positions, but four things had prevented him from embarrassing his host or sneezing on the hors d'oeuvres. The first was a sense of professional pride: he loved to sabotage his employers, but rarely in a way that made him look bad. He simply hadn’t thought of a way of getting out of this one that didn’t involve making himself look incompetent. The second was that, despite it all, the vampire (though Schaunard cursed his name with every stroke of the bow) was not a bad host; he was obsessively dedicated to proper manners and a proper aesthetic; he was always perfectly cordial to Schaunard. The third was the delightful opportunity it afforded Schaunard to see Musetta. He wanted to keep an eye on her, ensure she wasn’t being maltreated; and, when she was being maltreated, he loved to see the fallout that reigned down upon the vampire’s head.

Schaunard enjoyed playing, even as much as he hated the mere sight of his captor, even as his stomach roiled with bile. He imagined it sometimes, vividly; in his mind, Schaunard became a soldier of fortune, had been all along in fact, waiting merely for the opportunity to take a sword and a stake and drive that living corpse into the wall. He thought of tearing his shoulder like Grendel’s and mounting it on a spire, of laying his pale body in a tomb and mounting his head on a pike. Schaunard was not one to enact violence, but the scenes filled his head vividly as he played, pulling him far away to another reality. A reality where Schaunard could protect them again, keep them safe as he had in the past.

But Schaunard was not a personally violent man, and when he considered even moderate acts of defiance, a different image forced itself into his mind. That image was Colline, eyes alight like a child’s with fear, that terrifying instant when the pain had pulled him from the vampire’s enthrallment and he had been staring at his own hand, engulfed in flame, the cuff of his old shirt smoldering as it began to catch.

His breath caught, and his bow hitched on a note. The vampire didn’t take notice.

That was the fourth reason for staying compliant; in fact, in many ways, it was the only one. He wasn’t sure that the vampire would take out his wrath on him, when there were convenient scapegoats so close by.  Not when Colline’s safety was at stake.

It was just a little bit harder to breathe now that that thought had entered his mind, but he pushed himself through the muscle memory of the routines. He focused, as hard as he could; he had been practicing earlier and had found himself switching from Mozart to Strauss halfway through a piece, and his hands shaking so badly that the legato came out as a trill.

He couldn’t think about things now. Later. Tonight, when he was alone. For now, he had to get through the evening; then he would have a delightful tea with Marcello and whoever else was around, then, when all was well and he had grounded himself in the sanity of companionship, he would retreat to his room. And then he could let his mind do whatever it pleased. He would compose a song; he would let Rudolfo write the words. He would fill it with rage and fear and pain and unrequited love. That would free his mind to be happy, like he was supposed to be, like he  had  to be too keep Marcello alive and Rudolfo sane. Like he wanted to be.

~~~~~

“Why did you consent to this marriage? Why did he?”

“Lord Ashton was in dire straights when the engagement was arranged,” Arturo said. “It isn’t obvious from the arrangements here, but his status is not what it once was. He lost some key military campaigns in the north that cost him a lot of face; face, status, money, and troops that he needed to gain political allies. Had I not joined his family, he would likely have been executed.”

“Executed for what?”

“Get creative,” Arturo said, waving the question away with his hand. As it flew by him, Marcello realized he had just asked for incriminating evidence about a fairy’s brother in law, and Arturo might be physically incapable of giving it.

“Surely,” Marcello said carefully, “it would merely have been a political execution; surely there was no crime.”

“Because surely,” Arturo responded, “you would not be so bold or so crass as to suggest anything ill of my family.” He said it with a casual flair, but it confirmed Marcello’s hypothesis; Marcello had spoken nothing but ill of Lord Ashton, and that had never been an issue before.

”You care deeply for his sister, after all,” Marcello said, slowly, experimentally.

“I do care for Lucia,” Arturo confirmed. “Very much.”

“And surely that love extends to her brother as well.”

“You would be quite wise to say that.”

They had caught onto a game. Arturo, a fairy, could not lie or cause injury to the family. He could confirm any number of statements in roundabout ways, however, careful never to lie or to directly permit harm. He could point them in the right direction, a compass needle in a  twisted cave.

Marcello needed a drink. He needed Colline’s brain, he needed Rudolfo’s thoughtful attention, and he needed a drink.  What he had was less than an hour of daylight and a vaguely compliant fairy, which was about as compliant as fairies tended to get. It was like he had won a high-stakes card game, but the pot was all in credit.

[meitonapalace]

Regal Halloween Teaser No.2 (Anaka)

Week 2 introduces us to my favourite female character, Princess Anaka. She’s a warrior like Mokoto, but also a scientist and a workoholic who has terrible nightmares…

‘The Gods can control our dreams. If they love us, they can change our dreams, and give us everything we have ever desired. However, they can also make our biggest fear come true… in nightmares.’

- Source unknown

*

It wasn’t drastically late into the evening, but the warrior Princess Anaka of Gaiamiráka was exhausted all the same. She hasn’t slept in over a day, a fairly regular occurrence for her. She always got too sucked into her work, and even when she left the premises of the Royal Laboratory of Science, where she was a key member of staff, she still worked on her laptop for hours. It wasn’t uncommon for her to fall asleep in front of it, and that was what she had done. She didn’t even notice a holy presence surrounding her.

*

‘The God of Knowledge and Wisdom has no time for ignorance or fools. He blesses many of us with knowledge and intelligence, and expects us to use it wisely. However, if he is displeased with the way we have used his gift, he will not hesitate to take it away.’

- Source unknown

*

Anaka awoke with a start only a couple of hours later. She rubbed her eyes and looked up at the sound of footsteps. Then she smiled as her husband and employer, Raikun, approached her. “You’re still working on that?” He commented, moving his eyes to the laptop in front of her. “Oh… mm.” Anaka nodded. “I’m nearly done.” “Anaka…” Raikun sighed. “Don’t. It’s over. You’ll only anger your father if you carry on.” “What do you mean?” She frowned. “Well, he must have shut us down for a reason.” Raikun took a seat beside her. “I was hoping you could find out what that reason was.” “Shut down?” Anaka looked at him, bewildered. She felt so confused… as if the world had changed while she was asleep. She had a terrible sickly feeling all of a sudden, a cold panic steadily making its way into her heart… “Yes…” Raikun gazed back at her, with the same bewildered expression upon his face. “Your father has stopped funding the Royal. We can’t raise the funds ourselves – we can keep a couple of departments open, but –” “Wait, what?”

Anaka rubbed her head and closed her eyes. She had a headache… it wasn’t like her. Normally she wasn’t so easily disturbed, but… this didn’t make any sense. She was so confused it was making her dizzy… “What are you talking about, Raikun?” “Anaka – what do you mean?” Raikun frowned. “You know what happened – your father has shut the Royal down. We still have the military department, and we can afford to run about a quarter of the rest… but most of the Royal is gone – my salary has been halved. We’ve had to let everybody go – you don’t remember that?” He watched her, and the lost expression upon his wife’s face made him concerned. She didn’t look herself… She was pale, and confused… How did she not remember…? “Today we were clearing out – you helped pack the equipment away, remember?” He reached out his hand, to touch her face. “Anaka –”

Raikun stopped when she flinched away. Anaka’s eyes darted around her skull, trying desperately to recall memories that simply were not there. She remembered having a normal day at work, and then she had come home to finish her project… There had been no mention of shutting down, or lost funding, or… any of this. No… no! She didn’t believe it. Her heart was racing; she felt nauseous. The Royal couldn’t shut down! Her father would never – he knew what it meant to her! The Royal was her whole life – no, no! No she didn’t believe it! Not without seeing it for herself – she had to see this for herself! Her heart still racing and her eyes wide, she jumped to her feet. “I – I have to go!” Anaka stammered. “I have to see it!” “Anaka –” “I’m going!” Anaka shrieked, and bolted out of the room.

She charged down the corridors of the palace, her breaths short and frantic as she made her way outside and into a car. She screamed at the palace chauffer to take her to the Royal, and when they arrived she practically tore the car door off trying to get out. She ran into the building, up to her floor… and then she stopped. She stopped moving. For a moment, she stopped breathing. Her heart stopped beating. She was… stunned.

He was right… there was nothing here. No computers, no people… the Royal was open day and night; there should be somebody here at all hours, but… there was nobody. Anaka walked around, peering through the windowed doors of research rooms – rooms that should be full of equipment and specimens… nothing. Every room was empty. All the equipment, gone. All the projects, gone. All the research… the research she’d put her life into – she, and everyone else. Everyone that wasn’t here… No. No… No no, no! “No!” Anaka screamed, grabbing at her own hair to stop herself breaking down the walls. “No!” Her breathing became rapid; she could hear her own panicking heart pounding in her ears. She was trembling; her eyes were stinging with the warm stickiness of tears. This couldn’t be happening. This could not be true! Why would he do this? Why would her own father do this?

Anaka wailed, her grip on her hair tightening as her vision changed. She didn’t even notice her legs collapsing, but when everything seemed lower she assumed she must have fallen to the floor. She dug her claws into its hard surface, hissing as they cracked against it. The pain was nothing. Not even a distraction. In fact it just made her despair worse, and she felt even more panicked than before. No! No no no no no – “Anaka.”

Anaka gasped at the sound of her father’s voice behind her, and a jolt of something hot and sharp shot into her heart. She felt a terrible burning within her; an overwhelming need to harm this man… the king of Gaiamiráka. She couldn’t care less about his crown now; she couldn’t care less than she was his child, and that she should always respect and honour his decisions… No. Not now. She wouldn’t obey him now. He was wrong! The intelligent scientist side of her knew that, and the warrior side of her wanted vengeance. But before she turned to let her anger loose upon him, Anaka blinked… and she heard his voice once again. “Anaka?”

He sounded closer… because he was. When she opened her eyes Anaka was no longer in the Royal. She was in the palace, in the chair in which she’d fallen asleep… and her father, King Taka, was standing over her with a drink in his hand. He looked somewhat amused. “A nightmare?” He teased. “… Mm.” Anaka grunted, slowly coming to her senses. A nightmare…? Was that what it was…? … What a horrible thing to experience. Why would the Gods do that to her? But, then again…

Anaka sighed, and shook away her discomfort. “Yes, Sire.” She answered, and smiled. King Taka sniggered, and handed her his glass – the glass he had filled for himself. “That’s the downside of sleep.” He spoke as he made his way to his drinks cabinet, to pour another beverage for himself. “What happened?” “… You closed down the Royal.” Anaka answered sheepishly, her embarrassment growing as King Taka started to laugh. He knew how ridiculous such a notion was. “And you believed it?” Taka smirked, looking at her. “I would never take the Royal away from you, Princess.” He took a sip of his drink. “I wouldn’t dare.”

He started to laugh again, and Princess Anaka joined him. He was right… King Taka was fearful of the Gods, but there were very few mortals who could control him. Anaka had always been one to get her own way.

*

‘Sometimes the Gods don’t send nightmares because they hate us. Sometimes… they just do it for fun.’

- Source unknown

*

“What a fool!” In the centre of the world, in the Realm of the Gods, the God of Knowledge and Wisdom was laughing at the princess. He had blessed many of his people with great knowledge and wisdom – enough to work in the Royal… but sometimes, through ludicrous nightmares, he did enjoy making them feel like fools.

[captzexx]

On the Job Training

((This is a followup story posted by @ludlowvineyards in regards to @elizebella being told to take a day off and what happened after she left))

“And don’t come back till tomorrow!” He yelled after Elizebella Ludlow before shaking his head and coming back inside the shop.  An easy grin was on Zexx’s face as he let his good eye slowly adjust to the low light of the winery’s shop, hearing the bits of rustle about from the other employees of the day.  He had been ordered by the Lady Ludlow to get some proper garmets for his new position and he felt this new vest and tie was going to give him that level of gravitas of his new job.   There were only three remaining workers from the old winery but he felt that they had been a good (and easy) choice to man the shop while the vineyard continued to put out postings for positions within the business.

Zexx smiled across the counter to Julia as he returned to the cool store front, she in turn did the same before she continued to check her count of the bottles behind the counter always making sure that they were ready for anyone wanting a sampling or a full glass of the Ludlow selection.  Julia Gallina was young woman, probably not even old to really buy her own wine or beer in town but she had been signed as part of the lease of the old winery when the Ludlows took it over.  At least it was what Zexx had said when the takeover had occurred promising the three employees of the old Gallina winery they would always have a place here. Well at least two of them.

“Mister Candell, can you look over these order invoices if ya please?” The deep musical voice of Suzetta Gallina spoke out to him from within the cask line.  She was red headed woman who favored the same colored clothes as the crimson mane she kept in a high pony tail.  She was the older cousin to  young Julia, and years of hard living were quite evident in wear and tear to her face and eyes.  But for all the past she lived, she’d come back here to try and save her family winery and the legacy she had left behind early in life.  It was much detail as Zexx planned to get into at this time, she actually had been the one he had least expected to take up his offer of employment and maybe the one was happiest had.  The smoldering business woman had stayed on and was proving to be the right hand that he needed in this new environment.

“Let’s see here…well, everything looks fine, why’d you need me to look over it?” As Zexx handed back the invoices to the woman a look of somewhat confusion over the easily answered question, her brown eyes hardening as she tilted her head over to the back of a few casks of merlot.  

“I think the gentleman Pupellyverbos is in need of some assistance with a few bottles.” Her words came out as more of a growl before she promptly turned and stomped off to assist her cousin and start setting up the last few orders of the day.  Zexx could only sigh as he rubbed at his eye again, for some reason a sudden headache gripping him before he made his way to Mister Pupelyverbos.

Roberto Rodrigo Von Dondo Pupellyverbos claimed to be the leading instructor and only master sommelier of all of Stormwind City.  His years of work and expertise enough to fill a library within the Mage District and had been the leading authority in the very choosing of King Varian Wrynn’s coronation selection for his return a few years ago.  His titles and work within the wine business had been going on for years and the Gallinas had kept him on as a shining trophy of the struggling winery.  Zexx had hoped that all these stories and his resume were going to be something of legendary quality but the middle aged man had so far only proved to be good at one thing.

“Rob we’ve got…” Zexx began as he approached the man in the corner, the older man’s back turned to the younger man as he lifted a glass to the struggling sconce light for a moment.

A hand and finger raised to chastise and silence the impetuous manager as he approached from behind the connoisseur, slowly the wine glass brought down to his face as for a short sip from it before sitting silent still a few moments.  And then there was the spit and splash into a nearby silver bucket closely followed by a clink of glass to the old oak tasting table.

“Mister Candell, for the 18th time my name is Master Robertto Pupellyverbos to you, not Rob. Not Bobby.  Not Bob.  Not hey you. Not Roberto.  Master Roberto Pupellyverbos.  As per the conditions of my contract upon you hiring me, I will trust you will respect and follow my requests. I would hate to bring it back up again with Mistress Ludlow on your lack of gentry.”  The words cut like knives as he flung them at Zexx, never even bothering to turn and face the warrior turned businessman.  

Zexx hated Pupellyverbos, and he was hardly alone in his hate for the pompous ass that was actually in this position of middle management before the Ludlow takeover.  The middle aged would be noble was tall and clean looking with his fine garb, long dark hair kept clean and swept back to be supported and defined by a well-manicured goatee.  It was not in Zexx’s taste to note all the particulars about another person, but Pupellyverbos made it his mission in life to always make sure you saw the finer peculiars that he felt elevated him in class.

“My apologies, Senor Pupellyverbos, but we have some visitors coming by soon and I believe Lady Ludlow would prefer you to be on the floor to attend to their questions and concerns.” Zexx half growled out the words to the older man, his hands coming to grip on his belt to help fight the urge to knock the sommelier clean out.

The older man sighed and shook his head as he turned from his workspace, lifting a napkin from the table to dab at his lips and make sure he was presentable, smoothing out his mustache gingerly before locking eyes with the aggravated cyclops.  He smiled to him, in that condescending way that an adult would look to a chastised child.  “But of course, Mister Candell.  I’m sure I can be of great assistance to our incoming patrons, if you will excuse me.”  The middle aged man would waltz about the warrior with a dancer’s precision joining the incoming visitors and directing them to Julia.

Still bristling from the conversation, Zexx cast his dark gaze to the tasting table and storm over to splash out the remains of the glass from Pupellyverbos, growling and grumbling to himself as he poured himself a tall glass of whatever he was sampling at the time.  Was it Fox? Masquerade?  No label was on the bottle, cursing in some low dwarf tongue as he felt the need to lash out at anything that wasn’t right at the moment. It was red and that was all he needed as he poured heavily into the wine glass and lifted it toward his lips.  The glass would stop inches before his mouth, as the angry gnawing filling him from the belly up to just dive in completely.

But he would stop.  He would slowly lower the glass down to the table and stare at it for a few moments.  How long had it been since he’d last dug deep?  Found him drinking the spirits like breathing for a fish?  It had to have been near three weeks now. Field work will do that, get him to stop worrying about what’s on his plate and more about the greater task at hand. He had felt horrible at first but then better as the time went on.  His skin got cleaner, his sweats fewer, and his appetite back to a normal level.  The drink was what seemed to grab him all too often and now he was enjoying a respite of decent health.  Would it be wise throw it all away because of a pompous asshole like Pupellyverbos?

“No.  No it wouldn’t.”  A shaky sigh followed before standing straight again.  A slight adjust to his vest and he turn to head back out onto the floor of the shop.  His thoughts thinking back to the label-less bottle, he really needed to get to learning about the winery more than just drinking it, maybe that would be a good way to get back at Pupellyverbos.  A slight grin would come back to his face as he found Pupellyverbos regaling the visitors curiosity of the new management while Julia began to open a fresh bottle of Masquerade to sample to what could be the beginning of soon to be order.  

New job, new life, new outlook; don’t screw it up.