#❛ ⁞ ◤ ——— ᴛᴀsᴋ

[frostbounddevotion]

😵‍💫 @hunting-songs !

Uraume’s jaw clenched as a sharp pain stung across their cheek. With a rough swipe of their middle finger, they smeared away the blood that had dared to seep from the cut, the flesh tender beneath the touch. Their other hand gently pressed against their swollen lower lip, feeling the tightness of the skin that had bruised from the fight. Eyes narrowed, they gazed down at the pebbles scattered beneath them, a sense of defeat hanging heavily in the air. Their pink eyes flicked between the jagged shadows cast by the rocks and the stubborn weeds, forcing their way through the parched earth, vision partially obscured by a swollen, puffy eye.

Next time... he’ll kill me. His mercy can only stretch so far. Or maybe he’ll take a limb instead. Even then, without mastering reverse curse technique, I could be left mutilated beyond repair.

A sharp pang from their right hip demanded Uraume’s attention, the pain radiating from the deepest wound hidden beneath their bloodied robe. But they chose to focus on the more visible injuries, refusing to show weakness. Any sign of vulnerability would invite the other servants to prey upon them. The corners of the cut on Uraume's cheek slowly began to knit together, the flesh mending from the inside out. As the pain subsided, their focus deepened, blocking out the world around them. But the sharp disruption of a stranger's presence shattered their concentration. Instinctively, they gasped, inhaling sharply as their body tensed, muscles coiling in preparation for another fight. They flinched, hands twitching as they gauged the threat.

“Who are you?” Uraume demanded, their voice edged with a cold authority as they turned to face the intruder. Their eyes, still half-obscured by the swelling, scrutinized the stranger with unwavering intensity, analyzing every detail of their appearance and body language, searching for any hint of the newcomer's true intentions. “Can I help you with anything?” Uraume hissed, their words sharp and venomous, as if daring the stranger to make a wrong move.

@hunting-songs

[orlandccantu]

instagram || orlando cantu

[wardogsong]

“ tell  me  what  you  want. “ :~)

frank after dark || accepting

"Ain't fishin' for a ring and benefits, if that's what you're worried about, C'pn." Frank grabs for humor because it's always at hand and good for defusing situations he may or may not have misread. He's not above apologizing for the assumption either, but Rick's tone isn't there yet. It's less a shoving him off for the nerve and more... a checking-in, maybe? Seems to him like his intent ought to be clear enough, the moment a little grateful-to-be-alive roughhousing became weighted and heavy and led Frank to pulling his team leader in for a hot and heavy kiss— proximity he maintains even now as they dot I's and cross T's of understanding. "What, you never trade a different kind'a hands with a brother before? S'usually less talkin' about it, more..," he finishes the sentence with a boyish universal motion, a fist pumping the barely there air between them and punctuated by every bit as much of a boyish smirk that's threatening to crack and spill into laughter. "I mean... unless you're thinkin' you can do better?"

[juniperrjones]

𝘁𝗮𝗴 𝗱𝘂𝗺𝗽 !

.

[sefynarose]

Bound - A Short Sylus Story

(Loosely based off of Sylus’s dialogue if you don’t login for 30 days (based off the tiktok I saw, I could never leave him for a DAY let alone a month but I wanted some angst) Side note this ends abruptly because I stop writing when I lose inspiration so this is just me getting out the little scenario that played in my head :<).

TW: Mentions of blood, death, sadistic sylus, hurt mc, dom!sylus (?), etc.

(Let me know if I need any other tw's. I haven't had to do this on tumblr in forever!)

Mʏ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜɪᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴀs I ғᴜᴍʙʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀɴᴅᴀɢᴇs, ᴍʏ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ. Tʜᴇ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴜᴛᴀʟ, ᴀɴᴅ I ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀᴀɢ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀᴘsɪɴɢ.

Mʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡᴀs ʟɪᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ғʀᴇsʜ sᴄᴀʀs, sᴏᴍᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴡᴀs ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ I ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ʜᴀɪʀʟɪɴᴇ ғʀᴀᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʀɪʙ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ sᴇɴᴛ ᴀ sʜᴀʀᴘ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀ ᴏғ ʜᴏᴡ ғʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ ᴍʏ ʙᴏɴᴇs ғᴇʟᴛ. I’ᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴠɪsɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏsᴘɪᴛᴀʟ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ, ʙᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ, I sᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀᴀᴘ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅs, ᴡɪɴᴄɪɴɢ ᴀs I ᴅᴀʙʙᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴛɪsᴇᴘᴛɪᴄ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ɢᴀsʜ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴍ.

I sɪɢʜᴇᴅ, ᴄʟᴏsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇs ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜsʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ. Tʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴡᴀs ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ, sᴀᴠᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏғᴛ ʀᴜsᴛʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴀɪᴅ ᴋɪᴛ.

I ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ—ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʜɪᴍ.

Mʏ sᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄʜ ᴛᴡɪsᴛᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍ, ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ. Wᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ғᴏᴜɢʜᴛ. Nᴏᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀɴʏ ғɪɢʜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ʜᴇᴀʟ. I ʜᴀᴅ sᴛᴏʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ N109 ᴢᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙʟɪɴᴅ ғᴜʀʏ, ɴᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs. Tʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʜᴀᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, sᴏ I ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ. I ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ I ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ. I ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴀʟ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ.

I ʟᴇғᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ. Tʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍ ᴍᴇssᴀɢɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ, ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ I ᴡᴀs, ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ ᴄʀᴀᴡʟ. I ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ sɪɴᴄᴇ. Iᴛ sᴀᴛ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇsᴋ, sɪʟᴇɴᴛ, ɪᴛs sᴄʀᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴍɪɴᴏᴜs. I ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴅᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘ, ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴏᴍʙ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘʟᴏᴅᴇ. I ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ sᴜʀᴇ ɪғ ʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ I ᴡᴀs ɢᴏɴᴇ. Bᴜᴛ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴅᴏᴡɴ, I ᴡᴀs ᴛᴇʀʀɪғɪᴇᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ—ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ. Aɴᴅ ɪғ I ʜᴀᴅ sᴜᴄᴄᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴘɪssɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴏғғ… I ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I’ᴅ ғɪɴᴅ.

I ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛ, ғᴏᴄᴜsɪɴɢ ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀsᴋ ᴀᴛ ʜᴀɴᴅ. Wʜʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ I ᴘᴏᴋᴇ ᴀ sʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴀsᴛ?

I ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ ʜᴀʟғᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴘᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ᴜᴘ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛs ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀᴇᴅ. I ɢʟᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴍᴍɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀɴᴅᴇʟɪᴇʀ, ᴀ ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ ᴄʜɪʟʟ ᴄʀᴀᴡʟɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴍʏ sᴘɪɴᴇ, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʜᴀᴍᴍᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴇsᴛ. I ғᴇʟᴛ ғᴏᴏʟɪsʜ. I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ’ᴠᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ғɪɴᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ I ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ, ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ I ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ.

I ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ. I ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʜɪᴍ.

Tʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sᴘᴜᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ. Dᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ᴅᴇsᴄᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ, ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴀs ɪғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ɪᴛsᴇʟғ ᴡᴀs ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ʜɪs ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ. Eᴀᴄʜ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ɢʀᴇᴡ ʜᴇᴀᴠɪᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋᴇɴᴇᴅ. A ғᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴀs ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ, ғʟᴏᴀᴛᴇᴅ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴍʏ ғᴀᴄᴇ. Tʜᴇɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. Aɴᴅ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ.

Mʏ ᴘᴜʟsᴇ ǫᴜɪᴄᴋᴇɴᴇᴅ. Tʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ғʀɪɢɪᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋᴇɴɪɴɢ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs, ᴄʀɪᴍsᴏɴ ᴇʏᴇs ʙʟᴀᴢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟɪғᴇ, sᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋɴᴇss ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴇᴍʙᴇʀs.

“Y/N,” ᴀ ʟᴏᴡ, ᴍᴇɴᴀᴄɪɴɢ ɢʀᴏᴡʟ ғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴜɴᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴀʙʟᴇ.

Mʏ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪᴄᴇ. Tʜᴇ ғᴇᴀʀ I ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ sᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʀʏ sᴜʀɢᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴍɪxᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs—ᴀ ᴘᴜʟʟ, sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴsᴛɪɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴜʟʟʏ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴ. I ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴇᴇʟ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ, ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜsʜ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ—ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟɪɴɢ, ᴍʏ ᴘᴜʟsᴇ ᴇʀʀᴀᴛɪᴄ. Tʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴀɪᴅ ᴋɪᴛ sʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ɢʀᴀsᴘ, ʜɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴏᴏʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴄʟᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴀᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ.

Hᴇ sᴛᴇᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴅ; ᴛᴀʟʟ, ᴍᴇɴᴀᴄɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢʟʏ ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜs, ʜɪs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘʀᴇᴅᴀᴛᴏʀʏ. Mʏ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴏғ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ʜɪs. Hɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴇᴇʀ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsɪᴛʏ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇs ʟᴇғᴛ ᴍᴇ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀᴇᴅ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴘʀᴇʏ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴀᴡs ᴏғ ᴀ ʙᴇᴀsᴛ. Hɪs ᴍᴇʀᴇ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ, sᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ʟᴜɴɢs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴘᴀssɪɴɢ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ғʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ғᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ.

I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀɪɴᴛ ᴛᴇɴᴅʀɪʟs ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴇᴠᴏʟ ᴄᴏɪʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ, ᴄʀɪᴍsᴏɴ sᴡɪʀʟs ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs. Tʜᴇʏ ᴡʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜɪᴍ, ᴘᴜʟsɪɴɢ ᴀs ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʏ, ᴛᴏᴏ, ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀᴇᴅ. Hᴜɴɢᴇʀᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛɪᴏɴ. Fᴏʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ.

“Yᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ?” Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs ʟᴏᴡ, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴜᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ʀᴇsᴛʀᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ғᴜʀʏ.

Hᴇ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀ sɪɴɢʟᴇ sᴛᴇᴘ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜsᴄʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛᴇɴsᴇᴅ. Mʏ ғɪɢʜᴛ ᴏʀ ғʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴsᴛɪɴᴄᴛ sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ, ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ I ᴡᴀs ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʏᴢᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍ—ʜɪs ʀᴀɢᴇ, ʜɪs ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇɴᴇss, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ, ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʜᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀʀʙᴏʀ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ.

I sᴡᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʜᴀʀᴅ, ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs sᴄᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄ��ᴀᴏs ᴏғ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʀʀᴇᴅ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ. Hɪs ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ. Fᴇᴀʀ, ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪɴᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ, ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs sᴡɪʀʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴛɪᴅᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴғʟɪᴄᴛɪɴɢ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs.

“Yᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ,” ʜᴇ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴀs ʜᴇ sᴛʀᴏᴅᴇ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ, ʜɪs ᴛᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢʟʏ ʟɪɢʜᴛ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ. Hɪs ᴇʏᴇs ᴡᴇʀᴇ sʜᴀʀᴘ, ᴡɪʟᴅ. “Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜɪᴅᴇ ɪɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇs ᴇᴠᴇɴ I ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ғɪɴᴅ.”

Iɴ ᴀ ғʟᴀsʜ, ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ɪɴ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ, ʜɪs ʜᴀɴᴅ ɢʀɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴄʜɪɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴡɪɴᴄᴇ. Hɪs ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ sᴋɪᴍᴍᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴍ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀɴᴇss, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇɴᴇss ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴇɴᴛ sʜɪᴠᴇʀs ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴍʏ sᴘɪɴᴇ. I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ sᴛᴏᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜɪᴍᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘs, ᴛᴇᴀʀs ᴘʀɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀs ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇs.

“Sʏʟᴜs, I—”

I ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴛɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴄʜɪɴ, sɪʟᴇɴᴄɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ. Hɪs ᴇʏᴇs ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ, ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄᴜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ғᴇᴇʟ ʜɪs ʀᴀɢᴇ sᴡᴇʟʟ, ғᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴏғғ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ғᴜᴇʟ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ғɪʀᴇ.

“I ᴡᴀs ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ ᴍʏ ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɢᴏᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ.” Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴅʀᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍᴏᴜs ɢʀᴏᴡʟ. “Sᴇᴇᴍs sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ʜɪᴅɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅs.”

Hɪs ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴡᴀs ʜᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ ᴀs ʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀɴᴇᴅ ɪɴ, ʜɪs ᴄʀɪᴍsᴏɴ ᴇʏᴇs ʙʟᴀᴢɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴜɴʙʀɪᴅʟᴇᴅ ��ᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ. Tʜɪs ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ Sʏʟᴜs I ᴡᴀs ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ. Hᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴏsᴇᴅ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ɢʀᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ—ɢʀᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴜɴʙᴇᴀʀᴀʙʟʏ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ. Bᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ, ʜᴇ sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋɪɴɢ. Yᴇs, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇs I ʜᴀᴅ ɪɢɴᴏʀᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴀs ғᴀʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ, ʟᴇᴀsᴛ ᴏғ ᴀʟʟ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪᴍ.

“Dɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ? Nᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I’ᴠᴇ ᴇɴsɴᴀʀᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ?” Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜʀʏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴜᴛ ʙʏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs—ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. 

“Yᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ.”

Hɪs ᴡᴏʀᴅs, ᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs, sᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ ᴀ ᴄʜᴏʀᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴍᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ғᴇʟᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘɪᴇʀᴄɪɴɢ. Hᴇ ʜᴀᴅ sᴀɪᴅ ɪᴛ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴡᴀs ʜɪs, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴ? Oᴜʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ᴡᴀs ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴅᴇғɪɴᴇᴅ. Iᴛ ғᴇʟᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇғɪᴇʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀsʜɪᴘ—ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏғᴛᴇɴ ᴛʜᴀɴ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀʟʟɪᴇs. Aɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜɪs sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ, ɪɴᴇxᴘʟɪᴄᴀʙʟᴇ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴜs ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪɢɴᴏʀᴇ.

Dᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʀsʜɴᴇss ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟsᴇ ʟᴜʀᴋɪɴɢ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ. Sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ɢʀᴀsᴘ. I ғᴇʟᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ I ᴡᴀs ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴡᴇʙ ᴏғ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴜs ʜᴀᴅ ғᴜʟʟʏ ᴜɴʀᴀᴠᴇʟᴇᴅ. Hɪs ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ—ᴛʜɪs ᴄᴏɴsᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴅᴇᴄʟᴀʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴡᴀs ʜɪs—ʜᴀᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀ ᴍʏsᴛᴇʀʏ. I ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴡʜʏ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴜʟʟ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs.

Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴠᴏʟ-ʟɪɴᴋs, sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘʀɪᴍᴀʟ. Iᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴡ ᴜs ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ғᴇʟᴛ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴍᴀɢɴᴇᴛɪᴄ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴅᴅᴇɴɪɴɢ. Mᴏsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ I ғᴇʟᴛ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀʟᴇss ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ɪᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ᴡᴀs ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇs.

As ʜᴇ ᴘᴜʟʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ, ʜɪs ʜᴀɴᴅ sʟɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ɴᴇᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ʜᴏʟᴅ, I ғᴇʟᴛ ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴅɪɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ, ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ. Hɪs ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴍ sɴᴀᴋᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀɪsᴛ, ᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴍʏ ʀɪʙs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴᴅ ᴀ sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴊᴏʟᴛ ᴏғ ᴘᴀɪɴ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍᴇ. I ɢᴀsᴘᴇᴅ, ᴀ ᴄʀʏ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘɪɴɢ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴛᴏᴘ ɪᴛ.

Sʏʟᴜs ғʀᴏᴢᴇ, ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇs ᴡɪᴅᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇʏ ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʙᴀᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ’s ᴜɴɪғᴏʀᴍ. Hᴇ sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇs ᴀʟʟ ᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍɪx ᴏғ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘʀɪᴍᴀʟ.

"Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴏғғ. Nᴏᴡ." Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅ, ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴʏɪᴇʟᴅɪɴɢ. 

Tʀᴇᴍʙʟɪɴɢ, I ғᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀɴᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴇxᴄʀᴜᴄɪᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀs I ᴘᴀɪɴsᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢʟʏ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇs. Mʏ sᴋɪɴ ғʟᴜsʜᴇᴅ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʜɪs ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ sᴄʀᴜᴛɪɴʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ғᴇʟʟ ᴀᴡᴀʏ, ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇs ʀᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇ, ʜɪs ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ ᴜɴʀᴇᴀᴅᴀʙʟᴇ.

“Cᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ. Lᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.”

Mʏ ᴋɴᴇᴇs ᴡᴏʙʙʟᴇᴅ ᴀs I sᴛᴇᴘᴘᴇᴅ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ, ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ. Hɪs ʜᴀɴᴅs—ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇғᴜʟ ɴᴏᴡ—ɢʀᴀsᴘᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ʜɪᴘs, ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜᴛs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟɪᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ. Gʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇ ʙᴏᴜǫᴜᴇᴛs ᴏғ ʙʟᴜᴇ, ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍᴇᴅ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴍʏ ʀɪʙs, ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇs ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴛʜɪɢʜs ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟᴠᴇs. A ғᴇᴡ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢᴀsʜᴇs ᴅᴏᴛᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴀs ʙᴀᴅ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀsʜ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴍ.

I ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜʀᴏᴡɴ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ Wᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜɪɴs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴜʙʙʟᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ sʟᴀᴍᴍᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ɪᴛ.

Sʏʟᴜs ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪs ɢʀᴀsᴘ, ʜɪs ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴄᴀʟᴄᴜʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ ɢᴀᴢᴇ ɪɴsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ɪɴᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ. Hɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴛʀᴀᴄᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴜᴛʟɪɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪs ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀ, sᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴜɴᴛᴀʀʏ sʜɪᴠᴇʀs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍᴇ. Hɪs ʟɪᴘs ᴛᴡɪsᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ɢʀɪᴍ ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ, ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴀᴍᴜsᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴜʀʏ.

"Yᴏᴜ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴇʀs, ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ."

"I'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ," I ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴏᴀᴋ, ᴍʏ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴀʀsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟɪɴɢ. Gᴏᴏsᴇʙᴜᴍᴘs ʀᴏsᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ ᴀs ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀᴛɪᴘs ɢʜᴏsᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍʏ ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇs. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴋɪɴᴅ ɪɴ ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ᴀs ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇ sᴀᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅ. Hɪs ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴍ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴ, ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜᴇ ʏᴀɴᴋᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ. I ᴄʀɪᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀs ʜᴇ ᴇᴀsɪʟʏ ғʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ʜɪs ʟᴀʀɢᴇʀ ғʀᴀᴍᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇ, ᴘɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ.

Hᴇ ʟᴇᴀɴᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ, ʜɪs ʟɪᴘs ʜᴏᴠᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜsʟʏ ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ɴᴇᴄᴋ. “Yᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜʟᴇss ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ,” ʜᴇ sᴀɪᴅ, ʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴘᴀʟᴘᴀʙʟᴇ. I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ sᴇᴇ ʜɪs ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ʜɪs ʀᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴜɴᴅᴇɴɪᴀʙʟᴇ, ʀᴀᴅɪᴀᴛɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴀɴɢɪʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ. I ᴡᴀs ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʏᴢᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ғᴇᴀʀ, ᴛᴏᴏ ᴛᴇʀʀɪғɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏʀ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ. Hɪs ᴜɴᴘʀᴇᴅɪᴄᴛᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴡᴀs ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴋɴᴇᴡ I sᴛᴏᴏᴅ ɴᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴘᴏᴡᴇʀɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ I ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ.

“Aɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ.” Hɪs ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ, ɢʟɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴄᴜʀʟᴇᴅ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇʟʏ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ, ʜɪs ɢʀɪᴘ ғɪʀᴍ ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ. “Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅɪᴇᴅ,” ʜᴇ ʜɪssᴇᴅ, ʜɪs ʟɪᴘs ɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴠᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ᴇᴀʀ. “Aᴡᴀʏ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ. Bᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴍʏ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ.” Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴅʀᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀ, ᴀ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴛᴇʀʀɪғʏɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ. “Tʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.”

Hɪs ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴡᴀs ʜᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ, ʜɪs ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ʙᴏᴛʜ sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴsᴜᴍɪɴɢ. Tʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀs sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴʏɪᴇʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴀs ʜɪs ɢʀɪᴘ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜʟʟ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs ᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇғɪᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴍʏ ᴀʙsᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʜᴀᴅ sᴘᴀʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴀ sᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ʜɪᴍ—ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴡ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴏ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ.

[narcissarina]

“𝚈𝚘𝚞... 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.”

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.4ᴋ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs/ᴛᴀɢs: ᴀɴɢsᴛ! ʜᴜʀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜs, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴇʀᴀ (ғʀᴏᴍ 500 ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ), ғ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ ᴄᴀʟʟs ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴏᴍ♥︎), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ғᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ, sᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ, ᴋᴜʀᴏɴᴏsʜɪ, ᴋᴜɴɪᴋᴜᴢᴜsʜɪ, ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀ, ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ, sᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀ!! ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡᴇsᴛ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ғᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴄʏ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴅʏɪɴɢ/ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜs! ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ sᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀs. ғʟᴜғғ + ᴀɴɢsᴛ.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏsᴛ ʙᴏʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴏᴅs, ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs sʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟʟʏ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀss. ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴡᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴜᴘ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀʀʏ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ ᴄʜɪᴇғ sᴄᴏʟᴅᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴀʀʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ʙᴏʏ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇʀ sɪɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇɴ, ʜᴇ ɪɴsɪsᴛ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴀsᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ɴᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏɴ. ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀsᴋ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴘᴜᴘ ʜᴇ ɪs, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟsᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴏᴅᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs ɴᴏᴛ ᴏᴡɴ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ɴᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ, ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ. ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ʜᴇ sʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ “ᴍᴏᴍ” ᴏʀ “ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ”, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ ᴄᴏsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴇᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ?

ᴀ/ɴ: ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴛʜɪs, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ ʀs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴇʀᴀ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴏᴍ? ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ʜɪs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴇʀᴀ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛɪᴄᴇ, ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜɪs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪᴍ ʟᴏʟ. sᴏ ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜɪs, ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴇʀʀᴏʀs ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴏᴏᴋɪᴇs;) ᴅᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇᴅ ғᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ ǫᴜᴇsᴛ ʏᴇᴛ ʙᴄ ᴍʏ sᴄʜᴇᴅ ɪs ᴘᴀᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʟᴏsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ɢʀʀʀʀʀ. ᴅɪᴅ ɪ ᴄʀʏ? ʏᴇs, ʏᴇs ɪ ᴅɪᴅ.

It’s funny how you got yourself in this situation, it felt like you adopted a puppy than a helper. What’s his name again? Kabukimono? Cute little innocent guy you took in. It was funny when he slipped up and called you “mom” or “mother.”

“Here, mom.” Kabukimono took the wood you have gathered, “let me help.” He insisted as a smile spread across his face, the sun illuminates with his smile as if the sun was also smiling upon him. You gave him a pat in his head, “I can handle this.” You assured and tried to get the log of woods back.

He took the logs and pressed it against his chest, as if he’s hugging it and not wanting to let go. He insist, he wanted to help you like how you helped him.

You could only sigh and pinch his cheeks gently, a soft sigh as you see him walk away with the logs, your eyes went a little wide when he almost trip himself—he turn around to face you from the distance and gave you a thumbs up. What a cute little guy.

After placing the log to its rightful place, he runs up to you and hugs you around the waist as you were taller than him, “very good, Kabuki.” You praise and caress the back of his head, feeling his dark purple hair. He beams with a smile like a ray of sunshine, you noticed that his sleeves were a little dirty.

“Did you trip into mud or something, dear?” you asked him with a worried you, also noticing that he had a little bruise on his left elbow. “I’m fine.” He said, his brows knitted together as he doesn’t want you to worry too much about him.

“How about you?” he tilts his head, his arms still around your waist and his chin resting on your chest—where he can happily hear how your heart beats, you don’t know why but he said that hearing it beat makes his mind at ease.

A yell was heard from the distance, it was the village chief. “Kabukimono!” he called out for the boy, “coming!” Kabukimono yelled as he looks up at you again, meeting eye to eye as you brush a strand of hair away from his baby soft face. He looks like a sad puppy when someone needs him, where he’ll be only a few minutes away from you.

“You planning on going?”

“But I don’t want to leave you.”

“It’s ok, I’ll take it from here.” You assured and kissed his forehead—sweet, soft, and gentle. Just like how he loves it. He nodded and was now off the run. He was running happily as he help the village chief bring and sort some supplies for the people.

Look at that sweet child! Always helping other people when they need him, you always see him hanging around the blacksmiths. Helping and learning to make iron weapons and chatting with the other boy there, his name? You didn’t get to know him but all you know that Kabuki was always on his side, maybe a friend?

Sometimes, his naivety and willing to help always worries you. His willingness and wanting to be helpful… you can’t form a word to it, because sometimes you’ll hear him say weird things nor that some insult was a good compliment. As if, you worry that he’s easy to manipulate.

Maybe you worry too much, but it’s better to worry when that kid seeks your presence, sees you as his “mother” and wanting to be held close to your warmth. He’ll politely ask whether he could even cuddle with you to sleep.

In your sleep, you were blessed by the gods above, the heavenly principle—Celestia.

“What does it do?” Kabuki asked, poking the hard glass of the electro vision where it’s hanging on your right side of your chest. You could only chuckle when he observe and awe when you match your clothes to your vision before he catch your waist again and nuzzle his cheek against the fabric of your new attire, “soft.” He murmur and deeply inhale and exhale as he buried his head in your chest.

“To answer your question, my dear Cecilia.” You pressed your lips on top of his head and pinch his cheeks as he holds himself close to you, as if he wants to be part of you on how he’s being passive-aggressive, “It’s a vision, given by Celestia when you are acknowledged by them.”

“It’s purple.”

“because it’s an electro vision.”

“you can choose visions?”

You want to laugh at his remark, but seeing how dear and innocent he is—you hugged him tightly as he is hugging tightly to you, you answered, “No, you can’t choose visions, if Celestia gives me that option then I could’ve picked the anemo vision by now.” You laughed.

“why didn’t you?”

“Because I can’t, Kabuki.”

“a certain vision will only be given, maybe it’s because of ‘the key is people’s desires.’” You added and patted his back, “why don’t you go and play?”

“I rather take care of you.” He murmur against your chest, not moving or even budging one bit as if he’s glued into you. “please.” There it is, the eyes that he knew you love so much, that you can’t even say no to him. He knows this.

“You haven’t taken your medicine, again.” He slightly frowns and rest his chin against your chest, his brows knitted in genuine worry. You smiled sweetly at him, “It’s hard to have a grab of a medicine nowadays, dear.” You trace your fingertips along to his hair, soothing his head as he let out a soft sigh against your touch.

“You need to be in shape or else the chief will scold you again.”

“I know.”

“Take your meds then.” He buried himself yet again against your chest.

He’d be like a lost puppy with you, everywhere you go—he’ll be there to follow.

Every sight and venture to the woods, he’ll be there to prepare your needs as he wants to look after your health.

After all, you are an ill person, a sick vision holder. And since he learned that vision has powers, he is worried to you as you are worried to him.

In the night, when the stars are visible—he will ask you to come join him stargazing, simplest things and small gestures makes him happy. Nothing too fancy, nothing too big nor small. Just you and him, under the stars till the two count a thousands of stars.

You were everything to him. And he was everything to you, as if the world had gone small and only left the two of you.

Would a day come where you have come to meet your demise? As this happiness and endless of laughter with this sunshine has been a little too good to be true. As if, the sun was smiling too much upon the two of you.

Was it smiling? Or was it mocking?

დ➳დ➳დ↴

You were making some food and cutting up fruits, accidentally cut your index finger and hiss brought Kabukimono’s attention to you as he hurriedly got up to you, “Are you okay, mom?” he asked as he confusingly stared up at you when you brought your bloody finger uo to your mouth to suck the blood out.

“I’m fine.” You stated, almost a muffle as you suck your own finger off. You glance at your ingredients and you lack of Lavender melons, “By the way,” you pulled your finger back from your lips and got to the nearest pond to wash your finger, “Can you find me more lavender melons, Kabuki?” you asked of him. He nodded and sat beside you when you wash your finger off, you smiled and mouthed that you are fine.

He was worried, but did what you asked as you assured him you are fine.

He had picked a few Lavender Melons, some trees were a little high for him to reach—resulting him to use one of his sandal and throw it at the melons. After a few fail attempts, the melon falls as he quickly got into his feet and caught the falling fruit that might explode when falling from a very high surface.

He was… messy. Dirt around his white kariginu outfit with a lavender veil, somehow, he didn’t pay attention to his dirty attire. All he thinks about was the delicious food you’ll be making and desserts with these fruits, even he, himself knew that he doesn’t need food to full himself nor get energy from them. Why? He’s a puppet, of course.

Does he feel bad when you prepare him food even though he doesn’t need it like humans do? No, in fact. He enjoys the food you made for him, he loves your cooking and loves it more when you eat with him while he listens to you talk.

The fact that you sent him out to gather a few lavender melons for ingredients, it delights him that you stay at home while he is useful and helpful to you. He was delighted that you found him first and took him in.

You treated him with kindness that he never knew needed nor know about it, he felt like he could trust you completely—but doubt crawls over to his mind, if he told you that he’s a puppet. How would you react?

Would you hate him? Throw him away? Tell the whole village that he’s not one of you? Would you turn your back on him and leave him behind? Abandon him?

A lavender melon fell onto his head, snapping him back to reality. It looks like he zoned out for a bit. He brush the back of his head and chuckle to himself, keeping a positive energy and took the lavender melon to his arms as he stood up and hops his steps back to the village.

How delighted he will be when he comes home having two to five lavender melons he had taken… and thanking the tress for it. He loves hearing your praises when he did something good and that made you smile, he would cling and watch you slice those fruits up and feed him a slice and make a little mini jump of excitement.

It was a nice walk way back, he swung open the door and greeted with a huge smile in his face, “Mother, I’m back!” he yelled and run up to you on the table where you bandage up your small cut wound.

Your smile and the touch of your warm hand was the small thing that’ll keep him happy, your voice that’s been singing praises will play in his ears as you acknowledge his help and usefulness, “Very good, Kabuki.” You place a quick kiss against his forehead and took the lavender melons from his arms.

“Kabuki, how about you go help the chi-”

You fail to form your sentence as screams were heard outside, your heart dropped. Fear overcomes as you move by instinct and pulled Kabukimono by his arm, directly going towards to the other door where you go out and train with your wooden dummies. You look back and see to him, those screams…

He was terrified.

“W-What’s happening..?” He manage to ask, his tone mix with confusion and concern. You wanted to get away, get Kabukimono away from this horrors. Turning sharp to the corner, a sharp breath caught to your throat—as if you have forgotten how to breathe. What did you see?

Someone, you tried to push Kabukimono away from the scene—trying to turn his back away but it was too late, he had already witness a horrifying scene that will haunt him every night.

A village person, dead, on the ground. Their eyes were bloodshot as if they are shredding blood as their tears. Crimson blood dripping down from their forehead as they lie lifeless to the ground—their head to the side as if they’re staring at the both of you, as if they’re saying, you’re next.

You and Kabuki were hiding behind your small house, having the shadow covers up the two of you, to not be revealed by some monster, or rather. A unwelcomed guest in the village, who has come bring chaos and bloodshed within the village, your home.

You turn to Kabuki, he was confuse—he does not know why there’s crimson in that persons head, dripping down as they lie lifeless in the ground with their own pool of blood, you palm his cheeks, forcing a smile as you tried to steal his gaze away from such horrifying scene.

“Kabuki, dear, listen. I want you to do something for me, hm?” you try to remain calm, not wanting to scare the boy who has his gaze on you. His brows knitted together in worry, his eyes visibly scared on what he had witness. You grab a hold of his forearm as you got on one knee to kneel down, your eye to his, “Everything’s going to be fine, I want you to run and get help.” You kiss his forehead.

“what about you?”

“I’ll buy you time, I can fight after all.”

“You’re still not in good condition.”

“I know,” you smiled and stood up—cupping his cheek as you pull him in an embrace, “But I’ll be fine, now go.”

He nodded but his eyes darted to another person that’s been getting chase down, sword pierce right through them as a bloody scream escape from their mouth, coughing blood as the sword was retrieve—leaving that person in their own pool of blood.

He could only close his eyes and tighten his arms around your embrace, he wants to cry, to yell, but he needed to do what you said, get help. He thought of coming to the shogun and ask them for help.

Pulling away as he ran from the opposite direction, those “guest” noticed the boy as they try to come after him, you block their direction as you pulled out your bow—merging your element to form an attack. Buying Kabukimono some time to run.

He saw you fight one on one or more, you were going on defense more than offence, his can feel his skin shudder and his heart and mind race with worry. He wants to help you, but he needs to get help.

Kabuki ran, he ran as tears were filling up his vision and try to get help—but his mind wanders back to you, what if you get hurt? What if something worse happens to you?

These thoughts what made Kabuki stop his tracks, would he want to go back and ignore your favor don‘t get you out of there, he wants you to run away with him.

And so, he ran back. And the moment he did, he witness something that terrified him most.

“Mother..?” he called out, his eyes wide and his brows knitted with worry as tears were starting to form in his eyes. You rest your back against the tree as you sat with your own pool of blood, breathing heavily and your eyes heavy.

He ran towards you, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held you by his arm—cradling you like how you cradle him, he inspect your injury, your right hand covering your stomach to the side, trying your best to stop the bleeding.

Your half-lidded eyes darted to his worried and scared gaze, you could only smile and took your right hand off of your bleeding figure and use it to cup his face, staining him with your warm blood.

“There you are.” You manage to utter weakly, trying to manage that lovely tone that he loves so much. “It’s ok, I’m still alive.” You assured, wiping a tear off of his cheek using your thumb. You took something off of your shoulder, your vision then a paper, probably a letter. “Have this, open the letter when the time comes.”

Time? What time? He could only ask himself in his mind, what can he do to help you? He felt so low.. so vulnerable and helpless, as if he failed serving and following you, help. “H-Help..” he manage to voice out, “I n-need to get you help.” He says and kneel as he tries his hardest to get you on his back, but you didn’t budge.

“It’s ok… It’s just a small wound..” Small? It can’t be that small when you’re losing too much blood and when you’re desperate trying to get air as you were breathing heavily, “you were the best thing that has ever happen to me, Kabuki.”

He could only weep, bury his head against your neck. Trying his best not to cry out loud, you patted his shoulder in a weak manner—as if you’re slowly losing energy. He noticed that the light of your vision is slowly fading, but he pay no mind as he’s only focus on you and you alone.

Tears keeps coming as they slide down from his cheeks then drop to your cheeks, your thumb always wiping them off as his glassy eyes stared to yours—you were wasting your last energy talking to him and wiping off his tears and telling something humorous, to make him laugh right? You could hear him make a few slight chuckles in between his silent sobs.

He has you in his back, carrying you all the way to get help to the shogun herself—telling him sweet nothings as he communicates with you, thinking it’d be a good idea to keep the conversation to keep you entertained and alive. Help is on the way.

“W-We’re here!” he exclaimed, his legs almost going to give out on how much items you carry within your attire, “h-hey..” he called and nudges you lightly, to his horrors. You weren’t responding. He gently lay you down to the ground and held you in an embrace, tapping your cheeks and shaking you gently, “M-Mom..?” His heart dropping, his eyes widening and his breathing becomes rapid.

“H-Help..” he choke on his words, he screams for help—grabbing people’s attention to him as they saw the poor frightened boy covered with your dried blood—messing up his kariginu robe, along with his lavender veil as tears fails to form in his eyes, seeing that you are now lifeless in his arms and now that your vision is no longer glowing, no more life.

Time slows down, as if people are moving slowly around him—sounds of panic and urgency became a muffle as his own ears ring and his breathing rigged. He could only hold on tightly to the vision that has lost its light, as it felt like it died with you.

With you gone, he doesn’t know what to do—what task he’ll help with or errand to run. With the village turns to a bloody ruin, an unwanted war brought to the peaceful environment. He found himself in front of your bed. Where you and him cuddle to sleep, where you tell him little stories to help the two of you to fall asleep

“Gone.” He mutter, his tone flat as he’s tired. So, so tired. He misses your touch and warmth, your voice and your lovely smile that greets him every time he ran home after finishing an errand. He missed your presence, so much.

Your scarf around his neck, sniffing your scent in it—if there are still that remains. He crawls in bed, hugging his knees together as he look at the bedside table, a picture frame of you and him; smiling. Finally, he finally shred one last tear, as he hug himself to sleep. He imagines that you are here with him, in bed. Cooing him, soothing him, assuring him, that everything will be alright. He imagine that you were humming him to sleep or telling him folktales, how your hand on his back as you caress him to sleep.

But now? He’s alone, your poor Kabukimono, hugging himself to sleep as he pretends you are still with him. Silent sobs escapes from him as he falls from a deep slumber.

And thus, how his life began, or how his life began to be a living hell. To be an experiment.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

Five-hundred years, it has been that long. For him, and that’s how long you have been dead.

The poor boy has been through so, so much… Pain, misery, despair, loneliness, betrayals, and how he witness humans and his surroundings evolve to something new every year.

He became an experiment to The Doctor, a fatui harbinger, and needless to say that he had gone through many names.

Kabukimono, the boy who you once adored. A naïve and helpful child that who is willing to do anything that you ask.

Kuronoshi, then Kunikuzushi—where he starts his vengeance where he was betrayed three times and saw the ugliness of human society, yet he desire to be one of them. But, in this case, he doesn’t know whether to take your ‘death’ as a betrayal, as in every era he pass through—he would always thought of you.

Then comes The Balladeer, or Scaramouche per say. He became a fatui, he became a cruel and cunning harbinger—the boy who you couldn’t even recognize anymore, as he was experimented many times to the promise of the divine power, that made him lose himself in sole way. But he only desire a heart of his own, if only he wasn’t a puppet.

Shouki no Kami, who he has been use as the subject and has the power to rival Teyvat’s gods, and is known to be an artificial divinity, but alas, he was defeated by the Goddess of wisdom—Nahida, due to the loop she did to defeat him. But he soon enough when he gain consciousness after his coma, he agreed on helping Nahida to some way in Irminsul—thus him removing his past to the world.

But at some point, he never did erase the him you met in the past first five-hundred years, he only kept Kabukimono in Irminsul. As if, his own mind couldn’t erase you. He wanted to hate you despise you and curse you for leaving him. But he didn’t understand the concept of death, he didn’t understand.

All he knew, is that… you were a wonderful experience…

In which now, he became ‘Wanderer’ that the people in Akademya and the traveler knew now.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

His arms crossed and his eyes close as he rest his back against the wall, feeling the cool wind hit him. A flying companion and blonde traveler approach the boy who seems to relax on his own, “Teyvat to wanderer!” the flying ‘thing’ spoke to catch the boys attention, “what now?” the boy sigh and turn to the blonde traveler. His peace of mind was disturb by a certain someone, he was busy—busy reminiscing the past.

“Oh.. So you’re heading to Fontaine next?” Wanderer raised his eyebrow, arms still cross against his chest as he spoke in a surprise tone. The flying ‘thing’ nodded, who’s name is Paimon, “uh-huh! Nahida says we should take you with us.” The traveler nod and smile, “she says you need some time off and come with us to enjoy Fontaine.”

He could only stare down to his anemo vision and fix his hat as a sigh escapes from his lips, “fine, I’ll come.” He agreed and gave a faint smile, “lead the way, traveler and Paimon.”

“Safe travels for the three of you, and keep an eye on Wanderer.” Nahida remarks with a giggle, “It’s not like I’m going to commit a crime or something.” Wanderer replied, the Goddess of wisdom only giggled and bid both Wanderer and traveler goodbye and wish them well for their travel to Fontaine.

The ride was quiet, his attention was at the sea where the view was just water. No mountains or such, as Paimon and traveler held conversation. His mind wanders back to you, always has been. He looks down at his vision yet again, palming it to his two hands and caressing the thick glass as it glows. He remembers how much you love the wind—how the cool breeze hits your skin and messing your hair, how refreshing it feels and more.

He remembered when you told him that you wish to have that kind of vision, but you were given an electro one. But it’s been five hundred years, that moment had pass and if he could, he would do anything to bring you back. If he had the power, he would demand even the Celestia to give you back to him. He miss you, it hurts him to admit it.

“Uh, hey Wanderer?” Paimon called out, still floating as ever even in the boat. He let out a small hum to answer Paimon’s call, “me and traveler thought that you’re too quietly, is something wrong?” a hint of concern in Paimons voice, he shakes his head and sigh. “It’s nothing,” he says, as he looks at the two then back to his vision, “I just miss someone that’s dear to me, that’s all.” He mumbled and put his vision back to his shoulder—where you too, used to put your vision from five hundred years ago…

“Huh?” Paimon puts her finger to her chin, trying to make out what the boy just said, “Oh!” Paimon nodded, “I get it! You miss someone you know that they hold dear to you,” the boy could only hum in response as the boat still sails towards their destination, “So uh,” Paimon turn to traveler then back to him, “Who’s this person?” she finally asked.

Before he could response, he says, “Oh look, we’re here.” He got up from the boat and look up to the view of Fontaine. Paimon groans and whines at the traveler for Wanderer not answering her question. The people of Fontaine are… unique as they have a modern like and advance technologies unlike other regions, this piqued his interest, but then again—stepping foot here felt like he will wish he did not come here or he was glad he step foot here.

Wanderer felt a sudden of uneasiness as he close his eyes and folds his arms to his chest, “Huh? What’chu standing around for?” Paimon asked, “It’s nothing, I just felt something heavy—like a sudden of uneasiness.” Wanderer turned to them, “It’s just probably nothing.” He gave a shrug and Paimon nodded, how her brows knitted together either a sense of worry or confusion.

“You say you two looking for the Hydro archon?” The boy asked and both traveler and their flying companion nodded, “I feel like you’re in luck, looks like the Hydro archon came looking for you two.” People came bustling and gathering, this is going to be interesting.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

The following days has been… well, a roller-coaster ride, I suppose. It was one hell that the Hydro archon that goes by the name Furina. Lady Furina; which how her people address her, Wanderer was both surprised and shocked when that blonde traveler wanted to duel that god. You couldn’t even imagine how he noticed that the god was shocked and terrified.

He spent most of his time walking behind the big shots: Paimon and the blonde traveler, after all—these two has been awfully graced by the hydro archon herself, which makes them more and more of a celebrity if the archon themselves shows up for them.

But every walk, every click of his shoe, his mind still wanders—how he kept having this feeling, as if he was searching for something but couldn’t point it out, causing him to bump into Paimon and Traveler. “Heeey!” Paimon crossed her arms and turn to the seemingly-lost-in-his-own-thoughts-Wanderer, “Apologies.” He said, putting his hand onto his chest to show that he didn’t mean to and that he’s sincere.

Paimon huffs and puts her hand to her hips, “What has gotten into you, Wanderer?” she asked, Wanderer gave a few good pause before answering. “It’s nothing, I just got this feeling that I’m connected with someone here in Fontaine.” He sigh and turn his head to look at the signs of different shops.

“Oh? That’s weird. You’ve never been to Fontaine before, right?” Wanderer nodded to Paimons remark, “That was what I find odd too.” Wanderer express, his brows knitted—showing either he’s troubled or frustrated.

“Ooh! By the way, you forgot to answer my question!”

“What question?” Wanderer raised an eyebrow, silence filled the air as he made an ‘oh’ expression, “That question.” He said and nodded, “well, it wouldn’t hurt telling a little since it’s been five-hundred years.”

“There was this girl, she was like uh…” he cleared his throat first, folding his arms to his chest, “She was my mother, who treated me as her own.”

“Mom? Like your creator or something?” Said by confused Paimon, her eyes squinting as she looks at her blonde companion: the traveler. Wanderer shakes his head as a faint smile tug from the corner of his lips, “No, you misunderstood.”

“But, you say ‘mom’ then I thought you are calling your creator as your mother. Didn’t the Raiden Shogun created you… No, no. Raiden Ei, I believe.”

“You’re right, Ei created me.” He emphasized his creators name, “But you are still wrong,” both of his hand fell from his sides and shrugs, “Ei created me, I have every right to call her my mom. But she’s not my mom.” This causes Paimon to not understand more of it.

“Ei didn’t treat me as her own, abandoned me and left me to rot.” He pauses, then continues, “While my ‘mom’, the one whom took care of me and took me as her own is my ‘mom.’ Do you get my point now?” The boy tried his hardest to explain.

“She was human, you’d be surprise—of course, since the one who I call my own mother is a human while I’m a puppet.”

“it was indeed shocking that a human took you in, not to mention you call her your mom too.”

“Her name is y/n… Pretty name, yeah?” He chuckle, his brows knitted together as he recall the past, “She was a stubborn fool, always acting out before thinking.” He sighs, “But if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t become what I am now. Probably going to continue as a harbinger or a test subject.”

He looks at the blonde traveler, “And if it weren’t for you nor Buer, I wouldn’t realize that what I was in the past—she would probably be in shock.”

“why?”

“Because her precious Kabuki faded away, she wouldn’t recognize me no more.”

“aww.. Then what happened to her..?”

Sharing isn’t his best forte nor expressing something so deep to someone, it just hurts.. You know? The boy who longed for a mother and feel her love suddenly disappear right before his eyes as he watch you use your last breath. Your last breath where you did not regret wasting it upon him.

And so, the three sat by the nearest bench. He recall and tell the traumatic tale from five-hundred years ago.. How you two met, how it was going—how the your stories progress to a loving mother-son trope. Then, how he lost you..

As he tell his story, he couldn’t shred a tear. Maybe it’s because he’s now immune to the heartbreak and pain? Or maybe there’s no longer tears to shred?

დ➳დ➳დ↴

Time passed, his face remains with that same expression ever since he started telling his sob tale. The traveler could only nod through the whole story, while Paimon cried and sob against the traveler’s shoulder.

3:00 pm.

Checking the time, he lifts his head up to look at the blue sky. The air picking up as he turns his gaze to the two companions, he spoke, “shouldn’t you both better be on your way?”

Paimon weeps, brushing her tears away with the back of her small little hands, “T-That’s so s-sad..” she sniffle, “She’s so nice and.. and..” the next sentence came out gibberish and Wanderer, the blonde traveler—couldn’t make sense of what this flying companion is saying.

He rolled his eyes and breath in, inhaling the air of Fontaine… or it’s just sweets that he smells? Oh, he hates sweets.

He used to love them, with you making them for him. He used to eat all the desserts you make just for him, and he will gladly share and eat them with you in the same table—in the same roof, where he used to call home.

It took some time to have Paimon come down from her overwhelming emotional burst from the boys story. “Didn’t we have some business with the shopkeeper?” Paimon turn to the blonde traveler in which the traveler nodded, the two stood up and asked him if he could join them, extra company wouldn’t hurt.

“oh? You want me to come?” Wanderer asked as he stands up from his seat, brushes the fabric of his shoulder and folded his arms. The two companions nodded with a smile, “It’s best to keep your mind off of a bit, a distraction from your thoughts… Maybe?” Paimon says.

Wanderer chuckle and returns the smile, “If you insist, then sure.”

The walk was nice, it did keep his mind off a bit from his thoughts and this memories because Paimon can’t keep her mouth shut, he only replies with a simple nod, shake, a simple hum and ‘ok’ to her as they finally arrive at the shop they’re suppose to have business with.

“An antique shop..?” Wanderer tilts his head, Paimon nodded and hum, “yup! We were gonna pick something up for monsieur Neuvillette.”

“The chief justice of Fontaine?”

“Yup, he’s the one.”

Slowly nodding to what Paimon said, the three step inside the antique shop.

Your antique shop.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

A familiar voice was heard when they entered the shop, the insides were well-maintained and cleaned. The aroma was sweetly refreshing, and the moment he laid his eyes upon the shopkeeper, he was confuse, surprised, and other emotions that he couldn’t explain—it was overwhelming.

“Hello! Welcome to y/n antiques, feel free to look around.” Your voice, that sweet melodic voice that used to sing for him—that used to look out for him and call him. He couldn’t believe it…

A vision? Anemo, probably a catalyst wielder and an antique owner.. You were alive, much healthier, not ill, full of energy and your voice filling the room of the shop.

“M… M-Ma…?”

“huh?” Paimon looks at the boy, whose face was troubled, full of question and doubt. “Are you alright, Wanderer?”

“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat and looked at the ground, shifting his weight and height to distract himself for a bit. Paimon nods and pay no mind to his troubled thoughts, “Uh, we’re here to pick something up for monsieur Neuvillette.”

“ah! I see, please give me a second,” you spoke with a delight tone and got under the desk to reach out to something.

How..? He thought, looking at you while getting the thing that Neuvillette asked for to the traveler and Paimon, neatly knotting a ribbon beautifully and giving it to the two.

Spending his days from the Akademiya, he know something about this… ‘reincarnation’ something about that, but.. How? He keeps questioning himself, after all these years you’ve come back, alive and well and living the life you dreamed of since the past.

He wanted to hug you, the urge too powerful but he remains in his position—not wanting to scare you, well, since… you don’t remember him. That’s reincarnation, sometimes.. Probably.

“…derer… anderer.. Wanderer..!”

A voice calling out to him when he daze out, finally snapping back to reality, “hm?” he hums a response, “you seem out of it, we got what we needed..” Paimon showed the neatly beautiful ribbon box to Wanderer, “Let’s go! We still have to show you around in the opera house and meeting the chief justice.”

Wanderer blinked and shakes his head, “.. no.. I’ll stay here.. You go.” He said unexpectedly, “you sure?” Wanderer was sure all right, Paimon nodded and sigh, “all right then, meet you later!” And so, the two companion waved and bid farewell to the boy.

“Oh! You’re still here, sir?” you chuckle, “how can I help you?”

“Nothing,” Wanderer replied, “o-oh..!” you smiled and dust off the old book on your hand, his eyes scanned the whole shop and sees that most antiques aren’t properly cleaned yet and some old tale books aren’t in their proper position yet.

It gave him an idea, an idea to get closer with you again, to feel you again. Starting from square one, as if—the universe gave him a chance to be with you again.

“It looks like you’re the one who needed help, miss..” he almost said your name, “y/n, I believe I already introduced myself, but it’s y/n. You are?”

His breath hitches and has this hopeful spark in his eyes, “… Wanderer… Nice to meet you.. y/n.”

დ➳დ➳დ↴

He loves you dearly, still sees you the same as ever. If meeting you like this even after a hundred or thousand of years passes, he wouldn’t mind meeting you over and over and over again. He’ll do anything to be with you, you bring him solace, a safe space and a comforting presence and home.

You only met him the first time here in Fontaine, but for him—he wouldn’t mind meeting you again and again, reincarnation or something. He’s glad he found you, and you found him unintentionally.

No, you don’t know this boy. But somehow felt a connection, as if. You already knew him from your past. As if, he was that little pup in your dreams when you woke up from your deep state of a dream.

He wouldn’t lose you again, no. He’d do anything to protect you like how you have protected him from that village attack. He’s… forever grateful, you haven’t changed much and he… misses you.

A part of him felt complete, like a beautiful tone was complete and the melodies you once sang now carries a different resonance and the past of your last life now fading off of his mind.

And if the prophecy were to be true, he'd watch this nation fall and save you, not wanting to see you die again before his eyes—not wanting to be left again and feel the ache of his... heart. For you, he will choose you over this falling nation.

Now, you’re with him. And he’s with you.

Side by side, capturing every moment with you.

If in the past, he was your wonderful experience and you were.. his everything.

[madamkoko0924]

💜ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴀsᴋ💜

Say “please” in the comments for a naked version in your DMs~

[squipperooni]

Guess and speculate guess and speculate

We will not back down until all of you are either KITs or destroyed

[Tʜᴀᴛ ɪs ᴏ̨ᴜɪᴛᴇ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ ᴛᴀsᴋ]

[virtualhotwife69]

𝐇𝐞𝐲 ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴘᴘʟ ᴏғ ʟɪғᴇsᴛʏʟᴇ..

𝐃ᴀɴɪsʜ ᴛʜɪs sɪᴅᴇ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴ ɪɴ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟ ᴏғ ᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟ ᴘʟᴀɴ,

ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟ sᴏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴍɪss ᴛʜɪs ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀɴᴜɴɪᴛʏ..

ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ's ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇғғᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀɪᴘ, ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴇᴀsʏ ᴛᴀsᴋ ʙᴜᴛ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀᴇ & ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴ ᴜ ᴍʏ ᴘʟᴀɴ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ sᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ʙᴀɴɢᴀʟᴏʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɪᴍʙᴀᴛᴏʀᴇ ᴠɪᴀ ᴍʏsᴏʀᴇ & ᴡᴀʏᴀɴᴀᴅ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄᴏɪᴍʙᴀᴛᴏʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴏᴄʜɪ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴏғ ᴜ ɢᴜʏ's ɴ ɢᴏᴏɢʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴘ! 😃

sᴏ ᴘʟᴀɴ sᴛᴀʀᴛs ғʀᴏᴍ sᴏᴜᴛʜ, ᴇᴀsᴛ, ɴᴏʀᴛʜ, ᴡᴇsᴛ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴇɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴏᴜᴛʜ..

ᴄɪᴛɪᴇs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄᴏɪᴍʙᴀᴛᴏʀᴇ, ᴋᴏᴄʜɪ, ᴄʜᴇɴɴᴀɪ, ʙʜᴜʙᴀɴᴇsʜᴡᴀʀ, ʟᴜᴋɴᴏᴡ, ᴅᴇʟʜɪ, ᴀʜᴍᴇᴅᴀʙᴀᴅ, ᴍᴜᴍʙᴀɪ, ɢᴏᴀ, ᴍᴀɴɢʟᴏʀᴇ, ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʙ'ʟᴏʀᴇ ɪᴛ's ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄɪʀᴄʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴄᴇɴᴛʀᴇ ᴄɪᴛɪᴇs..

ᴀɴʏ ʙɪɢ ᴏʀ sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴄɪᴛɪᴇs ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴏᴜʀ ʀᴏᴜᴛᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪғ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀᴛ ᴍɪɴɪᴍᴜᴍ ᴋᴍ ᴅɪsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟ ғᴏʀ sᴜʀᴇ sᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴜʀ ʀᴏᴜᴛᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴ..

ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜʀᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴜs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ ɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴғɪʀᴍ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ's ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ's ᴡɪʟʟ ғɪx & ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀᴄᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢʟʏ..

ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴘʟ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ɪs ᴊᴏɪɴɪɴɢ ᴜs ғʀᴏᴍ ʙ'ʟᴏʀᴇ ғғᴍ & ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ ғᴜɴ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ ɴᴏ ғᴀʟᴛᴜ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴀss ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴘʟ, ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ᴠᴀʀɪᴀɴᴛ ᴘᴏsᴇs ᴏғ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇs, ᴀʀᴇ ᴜ ɢᴇɴɪᴜɴᴇ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜ ғᴜɴ ᴍɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ ʙʟᴀʜ ʙʟᴀʜ ʙᴀᴋᴡᴀss ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴʏ sᴇɴsᴇ ʙᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴡᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ʟɪғᴇsᴛʏʟᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴜ ʀ ᴏɴʟʏ sᴍᴀʀᴛ! 😅

ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ʟᴏᴏsᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴀss ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇ ᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛ, ᴄᴀɴ sᴇɴsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪᴛsᴇʟғ ɪғ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏғ ɪᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋ..

ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴡᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴏғ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ʟᴇᴛ's ᴘʟᴀɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ғᴜɴ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs, ᴡɪᴛʜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ & ʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛ..

sᴏʟᴏ, 3sᴜᴍ [ғᴍғ,ᴍғᴍ] ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ ғᴜɴ, ᴅʀɪɴᴋ, ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴍᴀsᴛɪ, ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ..

ᴏғғᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ {ғᴡʙ} ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ғʀᴇᴇ, ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜs ɪɴ ᴜʀ ᴄɪᴛʏ ɪɴ ᴜʀ ғᴜɴ ᴘʟᴀɴ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ & ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ғᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀᴇ..

ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ɪғ ᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴏsᴛ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ..

ᴡᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴛ ʙᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ʜᴏᴛᴇʟs ɴᴅ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ & ᴡᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴀʏ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴ sᴋɪᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴄɪᴛʏ ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ ᴄᴏɴғɪʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴍᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄɪᴛʏ ᴀᴄᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢʟʏ..

𝐒ᴏ ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʜᴇʟᴘғᴜʟʟ ɪғ ᴜ ɢᴜʏ's ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟ ᴘʟᴀɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴏsᴛ..

ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴍsɢs ᴀs ғᴏʀ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ sᴛᴀʏ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʜᴏᴛᴇʟ ɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴏғ ᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀɪᴘ ᴘʟᴀɴ..

ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴄᴏᴢ ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ 20|25 ᴄɪᴛɪᴇs sᴏ ᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟ ᴀʙᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴ ɪғ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀɴʏ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ᴅᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴏsᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴘʟʏ ᴛᴏ ɪᴛ..

ᴡɪʟʟ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴇsᴛɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɴ ᴅᴀᴛᴇs ᴏғ sᴛᴀʏ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴇsᴛɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ..

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ғᴏʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ..

ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴜs ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴘʟᴢ ᴅᴏ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛ ɪғ ᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴜᴛᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ & ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴜ ɢᴜʏs ɪɴ ᴏᴜʀ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ ᴏɴ ᴄʜᴀɪ ɴ ʙɪᴛ ᴏғ ɢᴏssɪᴘ..

𝐆ᴇɴɪᴜɴᴇ & 𝐑ᴇᴀʟ 𝐒ᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ᴘᴘʟ ᴅᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀɴ ғᴏʀ ғᴜɴ..

𝐅ᴀᴋᴇ & 𝐂_𝐥ᴏɢ sᴛᴀʏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴜs..

𝐅𝐘𝐈 : 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐈𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐫|𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡|𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐁𝐥𝐫 𝐂𝐩𝐥..

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 26𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐎𝐫 27𝐭𝐡|28𝐭𝐡 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐝, 29𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐨𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐊𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐂𝐛𝐞..

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝,

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞..

𝐖𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 & 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐏𝐋 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬..

𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐔𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 & 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐀𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩..

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.. 🙏

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐔𝐬 𝐀 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 & 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲!

[lukepearsoninteractivemedia]

𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴏғғ, ɪ ᴄᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴏsᴇɴ ᴅᴇsɪɢɴ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴀʏ. ʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sɪɢɪʟ ʙᴀsᴇᴅ ᴏғғ ᴏғ ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ sᴘɪʀɪᴛs! ɪ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴅɪғғɪᴄᴜʟᴛ ᴛᴀsᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ.

ɴᴇxᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴠɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇsɪɢɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴄᴀsᴛ ɪᴛ, ɪᴛ's ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜs. ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀs ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴅɪғғɪᴄᴜʟᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴɢs, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ʜᴏᴡ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟsᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ ғʟᴀᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴅ. ɪ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʜᴏʀɴ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʀɴ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ, sᴏ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ʙᴇsᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴄʀᴀᴘ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.

ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴇxᴛʀᴀ ᴄʟᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟs ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴀʏ sᴏ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴘʟᴀsᴛᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀsᴛ ᴏᴜʀ sɪɢɪʟs. ɪ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴘɪʟʟ ᴏᴜᴛ. ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋʀɪsᴛɪᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀᴛᴄʜ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘ ǫᴜɪᴄᴋʟʏ sᴏ ᴡᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ʟᴏsᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀsᴛᴇʀ. ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ, ᴡᴇ sᴛᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʏ ɪɴ, ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴇ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡᴀs ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ.

ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ, ᴡᴇ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴀʏ ᴏғғ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴅᴏɴᴇ. ᴜɴғᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴀᴛᴇʟʏ, ᴍɪɴᴇ sɴᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀs ɪ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪɴ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀs ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇᴅ. ɪ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ɪᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙᴏx ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴏғ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ.

[ask-the-shorty-squad]

ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏɴᴏᴘᴀᴅs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇs ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴀsᴋs ᴏʀ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴs ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ!

*They all check their Monopads.*

Y-You gotta be joking right... Please.

*Huh?*

ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴛᴀsᴋs ᴀʀᴇɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀs! ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇs' ᴛᴀsᴋs...

ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴏᴘᴀᴅ sʜᴏᴡɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴀsᴋ ɪs ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ "ᴛᴀsᴋᴍᴀᴛᴇ".

ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴛᴀsᴋs ᴡɪɴs! ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀs ғʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ! sᴏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙᴀsɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ ɢᴀᴍᴇ.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟɪᴍɪᴛ ɪs ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀ. ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏ ᴡɪɴɴᴇʀs ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ʟᴏsᴇs.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜɴɪsʜᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪғ ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡɪɴs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀsᴋ?

ɪ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴏғғ ᴠᴀɴɪʟʟᴀ's ᴏxʏɢᴇɴ. ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ɢᴏ ʙʏᴇ-ʙʏᴇ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ!

N-NO!!!

ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴀsᴋ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴀsᴋᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ sʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴀsᴋ. ᴏʀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ʙʏ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ!

*Sigh* Guess we don't have much of a choice.

[frostbounddevotion]

📱

[Text]: Are you pale because you keep using your blood to fight? Or are you anemic?

[Text]: Why do you keep two sea urchins on your head?

[Text]: What was it like being in a bottle for centuries?

[Text]: Do you have romantic feelings for Yuki or not?

---------

[Text]: Kenjaku has great plans for you. Trust him.

[orlandccantu]

𝘁𝗮𝗴 𝗱𝘂𝗺𝗽 !

[wardogsong]

@warhunting

"Frank Castle. AKA THE PUNISHER. He dropped some thirty-odd bodies in his one-man war on the New York underworld. Kicked off what they called THE TRIAL OF THE CENTURY up there. He had a Hail Mary of a chance getting off easy in a psych hospital-- until he threw the case and pled guilty rather dramatically. Landed himself in Rikers and broke out before the week was out. Rumor has it he's been shot in the head. Had the plug pulled on him. Been caught, worked over, given a few more holes for his troubles. He just won't stay down. Pops up like a daisy every time somebody tries"

The deadpan exposition on himself wafting past slotted steel door and into his cell doesn't have the power to throw off his warm-up as he works through it-- one part boredom, one part physical therapy, keeping limber and ready to use. He's got no delusions about why he's HERE. Jail, sure. That one's easy-- he's dropped way more bodies than either the D.A. back home or this lady here ever give him credit for. HERE-here, though? Sitting pretty in a reinforced cinderblock cell with a tracker in his neck? Yeah, that's not about doing time. It's gonna be about doing dirty work. And that means staying mission-ready; even under observation. Frank breathes, counts, and carries on.

"Picked him up special for you, Flag. Thought you'd like the rest of his file. Parris Island Force Recon Marine. MOS 0317. Scout sniper specialist. A soldier. That pipe-hitter enough for you?"

She sounds like she's selling to the uninterested, going by the silence that answers her every smarmy piece of trivia. The uninterested or the wise-- cause Frank thinks somebody would have to be a special kind of stupid to think they can just pick him up like groceries-- and what? Wind him up, watch him go? He's not the kind of soldier you can just jam a key in the back of and make dance. Though if he's been cooped up in here long enough to almost wish they'd take a crack at it for fun? Well. That's between he, himself, and the half a smirk the thought puts on his lips.

[stfuissa]

“Today, we’re meeting with celebrity hair guru, Isadora Rivera. Another released cast member joining this new season of Selling Realty. Now, we actually had the chance to get a hold of this clip from an altercation you had with an unidentified female and male. What’s happening in the clip? We need the context”, The reporter’s inquiring statement was one Isadora had not been expecting. She was aware news of the leak had surfaced some blogs but assumed her PR team had taken care of any remaining fragments of the audio. “Well, I..may have gotten into a situation. I’m not at the liberty to explain what happened but let’s just say I’m not with the nonsense. You know me, I always keep things real. I. Cannot. Stand. Liars. And it got to a point where I had to take matters into my own hands. And that upsets me”, Her demeanor growing increasingly more irritated by the minute. She reached for the sound piece attached to her Givenchy dress and immediately yanked it off. “You know what, I’m done. We can call this a wrap. I’m not sitting here and talking about that girl. She wanna have y’all ask me these questions, cool. Next time, ask her get it in writing. I’m not with that fuck shit. Appreciate your time truly”, She was beyond tired of speaking on the matter to the media and was not going to do so once more in the face of this new opportunity. She knew when it came to media outlets she was often painted as a villain despite her efforts to prove otherwise. Her temper was far from perfect. She liked giving people the benefit of the doubt in several scenarios, however often that lead to her being taken advantage of. Which only brought further flames to an already fueling rage.

﹝➣ @oppulencehq​﹞﹝➣ @realtyrecaps​﹞

[ishehigh]

𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘

𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗲𝘁 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 "𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺"? 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 30 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗗𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗱. 𝖭𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌'𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽. 𝖠𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗎𝗉𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾.𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝕴𝖓𝖌𝖑𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 "𝗐𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀" 𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗂𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗇 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗒. 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇, 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖥𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗒 𝗎𝗉 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗄𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽. 𝖡𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅, 𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾���� 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 "𝖯𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗆𝖺𝗇" 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖫𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 ,𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖧𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝖽𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 "𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽" 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 9-5 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝖴𝖲𝖢 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖦𝖯𝖠. 𝖭𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝖻 𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌...𝖭𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗌... 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖻 𝖽𝖾𝖻𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐. 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗟𝗲𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿𝘁 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽.

𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗠𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗬

𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖾, 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉. 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 5 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖧𝖾'𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 ,𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲. 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗵𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗿𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗇𝖾𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍. 𝖮𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁. 𝖢𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗂𝗅. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇. 𝗜𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗱𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗲, 𝗮 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗲𝗳 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘁 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝗻. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 "𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀" 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗎𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 "𝗇𝖾𝗐" 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗿𝘀.

𝗣𝗨𝗥𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗘

𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿, 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾. 𝖠𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌, 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆. 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾. 𝗛𝗲'𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗹𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝗺. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖻𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦

𝗢𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘂𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗹𝗮𝗯 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍. 𝖧𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀, 𝖾𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗕𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸. 𝗜𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗨𝗦𝗖.

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝗍'𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗏𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍. 𝖧𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝗛𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗼𝗿 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘂𝗽 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗸𝘀 𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘀. 𝖱𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗒𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗦𝗖 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖢𝖺𝗅𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖺𝗌, 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖻𝗎, 𝖡𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖧𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗌.... 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾.