#and then he burned down the family house and disappeared on his eighth birthday

[thecreaturecodex]

What's your options on bugbears in Golorian being all serial killers or atleast obsessed with fear? I think that has room for, improvement. Definitely feels weird for them though.

I love it.

It's one of my favorite lore changes between D&D and Pathfinder. It makes bugbears feel less like "goblin, but giant". And Paizo has made it clear that some goblins mutate and just grow to Medium size, so you can have giant goblins if you want 'em.

@monstersdownthepath suggested that bugbears have a demonic taint to them. Despite their CE nature, I'd suggest sahkils instead. Bugbears are the Fear of Marauders, of Banditry, of Murder. Only they're mortal. But I bet a lot of their souls end up in Xilbaba when they die.

I imagine that small groups of bugbears are somewhere between bandit gangs and terrorist cells, roaming around and striking for maximum psychological impact as much as to get material goods. Larger communities would be like Halloweentown, only much less friendly. With running competitions for "most blood drained in a single evening". And adopting more terrible monsters into their numbers as Honorary Bugbears. Life's no fun without a good scare! If the Thing Hiding Under Your Stairs and The Shadow on the Moon At Night really wanted to kill you, and then looted your supplies and took over your village until the well runs dry or next year's crop doesn't plant itself. That's a bugbear clan.

I also love the implication in Ironfang Invasion, through characters like Scarvinious and Scabvistin (great naming convention too, IMO), that some, but not all, bugbears are envious of hobgoblins. They like the idea of civilization, of order and rigidity. And so they enlist. And because of their strength and power, they can succeed. If they "beat the bear" out, in Scabvistin's words.

So if you want to give bugbears another hook, here's my alternate, but not necessarily incompatible take. They're brood parasites. Because what's scarier than a baby that's not yours taking over your life?

We know that in Pathfinder canon, goblins and hobgoblins are both communal breeders (thanks to nursery locations in both Rise of the Runelords and Jade Regent). A mother bugbear sneaks into a goblin creche and leaves her baby behind, after killing one of the young and either eating it themselves or feeding it to Junior. The somewhat addlepated and mutation-prone goblins won't notice or mind a slightly hairier infant, right? And then the bugbear baby takes more than its fair share of resources, maybe knocks off a few of the other kids, and then either leaves the goblin colony at a young age in order to find more bugbears, or stays and muscles his way into a leadership position.

Doing the same to a hobgoblin community is riskier. The hobgoblins are much more in tune and observant. But in this case, it becomes more of a mutualistic relationship that could tip into parasitism on either end. Maybe the bugbear can get along in the hobgoblin village by learning discipline, or be content with the role of scavenger or brute. Or the bugbear could try to take over, if the hobgoblins are weak. And if the bugbear doesn't have the resources to survive and thrive, the hobgoblins send them off on a suicide mission.

And even though they only rely on other goblinoids for raising their young...most of the time, there are rumors that they do this to other peoples. Even if it happens once in a hundred years, everyone will know the story of how the Munson boy got very hairy and very big very quickly, and then slaughtered and spit-roasted the family dog when he was only 4? That kind of fear keeps the bugbears powerful. And makes the bugbears very happy.

[inknopewetrust]

adieu, remember me. (1)

The Old Guard Booker x Female! Original Character

Summary: After a few years away, one member of the immortal team must return to protect their immortality and secrets as enemies begin to uncover their past.

Word Count: 1.6k 

Warnings: nothing yet!

Parts: ... | 2 | part 2 coming soon!

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think about the work and it will def be more than 2 or 3 parts and longer than this one. Requests are CLOSED at the moment and I apologize in advance for any mis-wording or spelling in different languages because I don’t know french/italian but I feel in some cases it was necessary to use for character interactions. Published on 8/9/2020.

if you want to be tagged for the next part please let me know!

All original content is owned by me. Anything from the film/comic is property of the writers, studio, and director. Gif not by me.

Versailles evolves every so often but over 172 odd years, more visitors pack its halls and recall its history. Tourists from around the world flock to the once functional palace and the home of infamous, complicated monarchs. Passed the sweeping halls and the paintings of untouchable status, a special exhibit was placed at the end of the hall with cases full of crowned jewels of French royalty.

Tourists flashed photos of crowns and rings and pearls that adorned the exhibit cases. In the center of the room laid perhaps the most famous of jewels, as well as the crowns that found themselves on the heads of women who suffered terrible fates. The Hope Diamond sat in a case between crowns that once adorned it and worn by Marie Antoinette and Louis Philippe I’s controversial daughter, Vivienne, Duchess of Auvergne. On loan from its final resting place at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., the diamond once found itself imbedded in each of the crowns on momentous occasions.

Crown worn by Vivienne, Duchess of Auvergne and third daughter of King Louis Philippe, killed by French revolutionaries in February 1848. Crown was commissioned by the King for his daughter’s twenty-eighth birthday. Was worn on the night of her death on 24th of February, 1848.

Twenty-eight. 172 years later she still remember the party, the food, the smell of the candles that burned from the chandelier and the man who caught her heart. Pretentious was the only word that came to mind when she thought of the party and the woman. At the time she felt deception too but the world has a funny way of making villains look like heroes depending on the perspective.

Clara felt the surge of memories remind her of the life she knew before the one she was in now. She didn’t know how long she had stood in front of that particular case with that particular diamond and crown but by the time her feet began to ache she knew it had been long enough. Clara also wasn’t sure how long a small English girl had been standing next to her, also staring at the silver diamond encrusted crown and the plaque underneath it.

“You know, she’s kind of a rebel and I dig it. It reminds me of Princess Margaret in a way. She was Queen Elizabeth’s sister and she partied a lot too.”

“Excuse me?”

“Vivienne. She was a rebel in her own right and I admire her for it.” The woman turned, her face meeting the girl taking notes on a piece of paper. The girl couldn’t have been more than thirteen and certainly had a bold personality if she was talking to someone she didn’t know.

“The revolutionaries didn’t see it that way, so why would you?”

“She was independent. I think it was progressive and cool for her not to follow the rules of her family. Not to mention the glamour in her style. She had the best dresses and crowns since well, Marie Antoinette probably.”

“That’s a little naïve, no?” The woman raised her brow at the student but the girl simply shrugged. The young one looked at the older woman and analyzed her face and features as she spoke.

“She spent the people’s money like water and saw no problem with the poverty in the streets. Vivienne was oblivious to the world around her because she lived in a world of riches with everyone at her disposal.”

“Perhaps.” The girl paused before continuing. “There’s a tv show about her on... um-I don’t remember- HBO maybe and they say she took a commoner for a lover and he sold her secrets to the revolutionaries which led to her death. Her body disappeared after the broke into the castle and people think they threw her body in the Seine.”

“I would advise you to stop watching whatever movies are giving you that perspective on the issue because it’s not true.” Clara scoffed and turned away from the girl.

The girl listened but was too entranced by the figure in front of her eyes. Brown hair, medium length, waved. She looked nice to say the least. She had on pretty clothes and may have been an employee because she knew so much but the girl wasn’t sure. All the student was certain of was that the woman standing in front of her looked very much like the Duchess in the paintings that lined the modern wing.

“You look like her.” The girl told her and she put her pencil down holding the pad of paper at her side. Before she had a chance to answer the girl, a teacher called out to the students as a signal to leave and the girl picked up her bag.

“Have a nice day.”

The girl left with the class and the woman stayed in front of the case watching them leave the room before turning back to the crown that once adorned her own head. A soft rumble came from her pocket and she pulled out the burner phone with a number she didn’t recognize but an area code she did, Goussainville.

France, safe house #4

“Hello?”

“Clara.” The Italian on the other line sounded relieved that she simply picked up the phone. Clara’s face contorted into one of worry than one of happiness she had been called.

“Nicolo, s’il tu plaît dites-moi que tout va bien?” Clara moved over to a window, away from the crowds to answer the call she had been anticipating for the last day. She dreamt of a black girl and her throat being sliced open. Waking up gasping for breath that wasn’t her own and cautious of who it might be.

“No-no. Il y en a un nouveau ... mais ce n'est pas le problème. les gens essaient de nous trouver et Dieu sait quoi.” Nicky told her and Clara felt helpless, disappointed in herself that she wasn’t there to help them. Not only was there someone new who needed guidance but the others needed her too if they were going to protect their own skin.

“Andy went to get her. We are at the safe house in Goussainville and they should be here later today. If you can make it... we really need you, Clara.” Clara sighed and looked out the window that faced the vast gardens the palace was surrounded by. Serenity before the inevitable storm.

“He’d kill me if he knew I’m telling you this but Booker needs you. It’s getting worse since the last time he saw you and I am not sure what to do.”

“That was three weeks ago, Nicky.”

“I can’t explain it... it’s just gotten worse. I know he has to help himself but he’s always a bit brighter when you’re around.”

“I can be there later tonight. What time are they getting in?”

“7.”

“I can be there at 8. I’m in France so I’ll take a train as soon as I can.”

“We will be waiting.” Nicky told her and she hung up the phone. Clara looked back at that glimmering crown and what the young girl said about the Duchess. Naïvety at its finest.

At the safe house in Gousssainville, the three immortal men unpacked the bag they brought and washed up after the ambush in Afghanistan. Nicky stood alongside the small counter space prepping dinner when Booker came to fill a cup with wine.

“Who was on the phone?” Booker asked in a low grumble and Nicky set down the knife he was using to slice tomatoes.

“It was Clara. I called her and told her we needed her here. She dreamt of the girl too.”

“And?” Booker pushed further and downed his glass in an instant upon the news.

“She could catch a train to be here at 8.”

“How did she sound?”

“Worried.”

Booker nodded and filled his glass again before going to sit in front of the tv in a chair he had designated as his own many years ago. Nicky watched as he sat, drank more and tried to remove himself from his thoughts but was too lost to do so. He was observant and cared deeply for the others in his life but there was only so much he could do for a man as stubborn as Booker.

“Hai bisogno di aiuto?” Joe called out to Nicky from everyone’s shared bedroom before also joining the two in the common space. Nicky shook his head and glanced at Booker who wasn’t looking but certainly listening.

“I called Clara. She is on her way to us now. She knows we are in trouble.” Joe smiled at Nicky and gave him a quick peck. While they were all very close, Joe and Nicky had taken Clara under their wings and helped her acclimate to the world as an immortal, especially after they found her and the two french immortals clashed. 

“It’s been too long. I miss that woman.”

“We all do.” Nicky said before returning to his meal. Without much time having gone by, the door to the cemetery sounded and Andy walked through the door with a nervous woman behind them. The girl was young, no more than 25 and had blood stained on her forehead. One hand was clutching her arm but out of nervousness not injury. Her eyes looked at the three men. Two sat staring at her in chairs and the other by the refrigerator and the only sound that played was the cheering of fans from a football match that played on the widescreen. Andy looked over her shoulder and then back again, breaking the silence to introduce the newest member of The Old Guard.  

“Everyone, this is Nile.”

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

Tag List: (Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for the next part!) 

@holychocopie 

[lapinmiel]

[Backstory] Jane and Alec, Volturi Guards.

Jane and Alec, two of the most precious possessions of the Volturi, are the most feared vampires in the whole vampire world. While we know their names, positions and powers, do we know how their life was before joining the Volturi? The answer is a no.

This post provides an inside look to Jane and Alec’s life prior to joining the Volturi. Enjoy!

Note: This post is long. You might as well get a cup of tea before starting reading it.

• Jane and Alec, the twins of the town’s most renowned carpenter, were born in Perlshaw in A.D. 762. Their birth was both a surprise and horror, their mother, Eudelme, was bathing in the nearby pond near their house. The birth was so easy that she didn’t realize the twins — at the time who she thought was just a big, strong baby; were being born until she felt pressure on her lower area. Jane was born first, while her mother was still in the water. Alec came after her right when Eudelme came out of the water and laid on the ground, screaming for help to her friends who were bathing with her.

• The day they were born was extraordinarily calm and the skies were topaz blue. Their mother had never seen butterflies that pretty before that day and their father was paid some extra coins for his work. Their aunt, Aebbe, had dreamt of two angels coming to their house the night before their birth and woke up thrilled. She woke up started praying without saying anything to anyone. When Aebbe saw the twins for the first time when she helped her sister care for them by the pond, tears rolled up to her eyes — she knew that these were the angels she saw the night before.

• Eudelme and Aebbe took the twins home, that night, when their father Anselm arrived, they named the twins. Jane was the name of Eudelme’s friend who saved her when they were being attacked by wolves in the forest and Alec was the name of a hero in their area. Even though the names were uncommon, even unheard in some places, people grew to get used to them.

• Their birth came with luck. Their family’s own little garden started to produce more herbs, the flowers and trees around the house were greener and more fragrant, their father started to be paid more in his work and eventually, found another job that paid him more. Regardless of the weather, their house was always warm and cozy, the fire was burning brightly and prosperity started to be present.

• The twins were odd, charming little creatures when they were little. Their earth-colored curls shone so brightly as if they carried the sun in their hair, their eyes were so striking that you wanted to keep looking once you’ve looked at them. Their tiny pink lips were always smiling, they liked to babble. The twins seemed to communicate with each other in their ways, they didn’t start speaking their language until they were around five. Due to their own ways of communication, they didn’t have a lot of friends, preferring to play with each other.

• By the time they reached the age of seven, they were interacting with more people. They were naturally reserved, enjoying each other’s company, it was a rare sight to see them playing with other kids. This situation started to change when Alec became some sort of friends with the neighbour’s son, Eadger, who was more than eager to befriend them. Eadger was a shy child that had almost no friends. Eudelme thought that if the child had a good relationship with her twins, she could leave them together and go to work. Since she was worried so much about the twins due to their “closedness” to the outer people, she preferred not to work and took care of them. But she had to work, Aebbe was needing her help because of the number of orders she was receiving. This was, of course, due to the luck of the twins.

• As their friendship grew, Alec, Jane and Eadger started spending more and more time together. Their mothers, Eudelme and Saehild, also became friends shortly after their children. Saehild would often visit them in their house to take Jane and Alec with her. She was exceptionally fond of them, often thinking that they were the siblings of her son.

• Shortly after the child became friends, the luck of the twins started to emerge in the household of Saehild and Eadgar. Saehild’s never-ending wish to conceive twins became true. Her husband, Hunsige got lent a fortune from his great aunt, who was a little baronet in the north. When Saehild went into labour, she was with Eudelme and the children were playing in the snow outside. Much curiously, they weren’t cold and they weren’t getting wet. No one thought about this as a bad thing, not even Saehild, who didn’t want to let children play in the snow.

• Just in the middle of the labour, Jane came inside the room and with her came a wave of serenity. The town’s midwife was called to help, when she realized that the baby had its eyes open at birth, she announced that it was the sign of the Devil. Saehild got terrified. Jane didn’t understand what it was with her little human mind. At that time, no one suspected the twins of witchcraft, they weren’t doing it anyway. But with the midwife’s superstition, Saehild’s husband, Hunsige, started to think that the cause of the Devil’s sign was the family of the twins. Because before becoming friends with them, their family was a faithful household that the Devil wouldn’t come nearby, he thought.

• The birth was right before the twins’ eighth birthday. Somehow, the luck they brought to people who were good to them seemed to get more and more powerful as they grew older, as well as the bad luck they brought to people who were bad to them. One of the instances of their bad luck was when their father was punished in his job for misuse of something. He was beaten by the sons of his patron, days later, one of the sons were attacked by a wolf — just like how the twins’ mother was attacked when she was a young girl. A week later, the other son caught a sickness that no one could tell what was, it didn’t take long until he went blind.

• Their luck was powerful but the bad luck was something wicked, something only witches could be responsible for. Or the town folk thought so.

• At first, people thought that demons and bad spirits started to take over the city. After the patron’s sons, the midwife who helped Saehild fell down a couple of stairs and broke her back. Eventually, she was left paralyzed. Later, the only butcher in the town lost all his animals. After him, an old couple’s house burned and they died while trying to get out. No one could understand the reasons behind — but deep down, the twins and their family knew: the midwife had thought something was wrong with the twins, the butcher was trying to find occasions to harass Eudelme and the old couple was badmouthing Aebbe for she didn’t marry their son.

• All these things happened in a span of three months. Winter was coming, and the midwife was still talking about the twins. She was claiming that she saw in a dream that the twins were the servants of the Devil, as well as Saehild’s twins. She started convincing people that the relationship between these twins was nothing normal and they were spending time to find ways to call the devil upon the town. But at the time, Saehild’s twins were only two and they couldn’t even talk.

• Shortly after, people started believing in these superstitions. People were claiming here and there that they saw the twins floating in the air, shouting unknown words during a full moon and circling around a fire. None of these things were true, but the effect they had was more than real.

• One person claimed that in the early days of November, she saw about a dozen red eyes looking at the town from the woods. She claimed that she got scared she couldn’t talk for a few days.

Those eyes were the eyes of Jane and Alec’s future family, but they were yet to know it.

• Their lives started to change. The twins didn’t have a special circle to begin with, they only had Eadgar and his siblings. Eadgar’s mother Saehild kept meeting with Eudelme and warned her about the town folk’s rumours. Eudelme started to worry about her children but had no power to do anything.

• She started not allowing them to go out. She didn’t tell the twins why but Jane and Alec sensed. Somehow, they sensed that people were talking about them.

• After not being allowed outside for about a month, the rumours started to disappear. During the month, Eudelme and Anselm took kids outside to entertain them at every chance. They took them to the mountains, to the pond nearby, to see the waterfall that fed the pond. The twins learned how to climb and swim. They were happier than ever, as a family, they felt whole. Alec developed an interest in insects. He would often sneak out of the house at night to collect insects without being seen by people. Jane hated insects, so she never sneaked out with him.

• One full moon night, when Alec was out collecting insects when he heard some branches cracking as if something was coming his way. Of course, he heard it and got fearful. The sound of branches cracking grew louder, that was when Alec saw a pair of big, silver eyes. He had seen them before. He had seen a wolf before. But the thing had a difference — its eyes were at least the size of Alec’s hand. His heart felt like it stopped for a moment, and in the other, he started to run for his life. When he arrived home, Jane welcomed him, after seeing that her brother was out of breath, Jane asked him what happened and Alec told what he saw. Jane suspected that it was a werewolf that their mother told them about. That night, they slept while holding each other’s hands.

Unbeknownst to them, the next day was coming with its own storms.

• The next day, they opened their eyes up to a mess. Without being able to understand what was happening, they heard screaming sounds outside. Alec jumped out of the bed and rushed to the outside. Jane followed him and in the garden, they saw their mother looking at somewhere. Alec came beside her, tried looking into his mother’s eyes. She was devastated. Her eyes were the tellers of all that was happening: Saehild was being taken to the town’s center, more like being dragged, by townsfolk. Her clothes were being ripped away, her mouth tearing from inside due to her screams, her eyes crying tears of blood. No one said anything. Jane and Alec were too afraid to react. They were nailed to the ground.

• Days later, the news of what Saehild was accused of reached the twins’ house. It was witchcraft. Allegedly, someone claimed to see her transform into a big, dog-like creature and run towards the woods. No words were said. Eudelme and Aebbe were devastated beyond words. The reason was that if Saehild was going to be hanged or burned, it would come to them too. Because they spent almost all of their time together. Eating, letting children play, knitting, doing housework... Neither knew that their newly developed friendship would cause more harm than good.

• Two days later the spread of the news, Saehild was burned on the stake. The screams of pain traveled through the air to the ears of Jane and Alec, without knowing what would happen next, they prayed for her pain to ease, for her screams to turn into peaceful songs, and her body to not feel the fire. It was an endless day, the sun seemed not to set. Eudelme and Aebbe considered taking the children and running away, but Anselm stopped them. Despite Eudelme’s tears and claims that they’ll eventually be blamed too, Anselm didn’t step back and told them that no one would blame them. It wasn’t a solid idea to stand on, and soon, the rumours started spreading again.

• Saehild’s twins were now the center of the rumours. It was the midwife again, talking about them in a way that the twins were feared in the town. The talks were almost similar: they were the Devil’s seeds. They were born with their eyes open and they carried the mark of the Devil on their necks, which was nothing more than a birthmark. Saehild’s husband was isolated in his house with Eadgar and the twins. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to go out, he wasn’t allowed. While his wife burned, he made it clear that he wasn’t a sorcerer, thus didn’t know about his wife’s crimes. At heart, he was crushed into pieces but he couldn’t take his pain out. He had to act like Saehild was guilty. It was the only way to survive.

• After a month of isolation from the town, Eudelme decided to take the twins away with her. Because she knew what was coming. She’d heard the talk. It wasn’t only her twins too, Saehild’s twins were also mentioned. She even heard someone say that the twins were the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. She feared the outcome of all the talk.

• Jane and Alec were little, but they were grown enough to understand what was happening. They understood that people were speculating about them, but didn’t understand why. They couldn’t understand why people chose to talk about them while all they did was to be children. Talking, playing, smiling. Suddenly, their regular acts became the most dangerous things to them. The luck they brought to the ones who were good to them wasn’t noticed but people were fast to realize what was happening to people when they weren’t good to the twins.

• It was the last speculation Eudelme could bear. The night that she heard it, she packed her bags and took the children with her as well as Aebbe. They ran away to the woods. Without having a route or a place to stay, they ran for their lives. Aebbe held Alec’s and Eudelme held Jane’s hands, they didn’t even have a candle to light their way.

However, their steps were far from taking them to safety. The townsfolk had already heard about their plan.

• After ten minutes of running through the woods, Aebbe noticed fire beyond. Torches of the townsfolk who were waiting for them. She shoıted at Eudelme, commanding her to look ahead and see what was there. But her voice was too loud to not be heard by the folk. As Eudelme heard it, the fold heard it too and began marching towards the four.

• After that was pure panic. Not knowing what to do, Eudelme froze for a couple of minutes, enough to get caught by the folk. Alec tried to drag her to run with him but Eudelme was completely frozen in a state that she seemed like a marble statue. Holding her son’s hand so tightly that Alec couldn’t let go of her hand. They got him first.

• It was only when they heard Alec’s screams that Aebbe and Jane realized they were captured. Jane looked back, but the sky was so dark that she couldn’t see anything. Breathing hardly, she tried to stop Aebbe and help her brother but Aebbe was smart to not allow her. Still hearing her brother’s screams for help, Jane started crying and shouting at him, saying his name without stopping. The pain she felt in her torso was more than what a little child could bear, and she didn’t even understand why these things were happening to her.

• After another ten minutes of running, Aebbe was confronted by another group of people. She stood in front of Jane, trying to hide. Nevertheless, it wasn’t the best idea. Suddenly, someone snatched her away from Aebbe’s hands. Little Jane tried so hard to kick and bite the man, but her body was too tiny to leave any damage. The man quickly tied her hands and feet with a rope right in front of Aebbe’s hands. After that was a mess. Aebbe tried fighting back, even though he couldn’t see well at night. She tried kicking some men around but that ended with a sharp pain in her head. The last thing she felt was the smooth sensation of falling asleep.

She fell right beside Jane. Seeing her aunt in blood, Jane screamed so loudly that as if her lungs were about to explode, but that ended with a sharp pain for her too.

• The twins woke up tied at stakes. Their mother was there too. And unexpectedly, the twin siblings of Eadgar were also there. It was clear for Eudelme but the children couldn’t comprehend anything.

• Jane and Alec asked each other if they were good. Then they asked Eudelme who was nearly unconscious from being beaten. It was harder for her. People thought that she’d sold her soul to the Devil for power. She wanted to ask them which power was it because they still were peasants who could hardly afford food for their children. But she knew that there wouldn’t be any answer. They were already judged and no one was coming to save them.

• The other twins were so little that they couldn’t even react to anything. When Jane looked at them, they were looking around and trying to move. There was no trace of fear in their eyes. The twins didn’t know that they were about to die. They didn’t know that they were the subjects of a crime they couldn’t even comprehend. They didn’t know that these grown people looked at them and saw the eyes of the Devil in their innocent eyes. Jane couldn’t understand what was happening until then, but after looking at the twins, she knew. She understood. Because she’d seen her father in the crowd, looking at them with empty eyes. She later realized that he was already plotting their ends when Saehild was taken away, but they couldn’t catch the signs of it.

When Jane saw the faces of the folk, she realized one thing. People weren’t to be trusted. Even in her new life, she kept reminding herself of that. She only trusted her brother.

• While they were set on fire, Eudelme was already gone. Her heart had already stopped beating. But Jane and Alec were still alive and feeling.

• Alec’s pain started from his hands. He didn’t know why, but the fire started burning him from his hands first. When he first felt it, he tried so hard to find a way out that his mind focused only on finding a way. He tried moving his limbs, sliding from the stake, moving his shoulder, but nothing worked. As the paralyzing sensation of being burned alive spread up his veins, he realized there was no cure. His heart was getting faster and faster, increasing his fear of the realization that the burning smell he felt was from his own hands. It wasn't over yet — Alec thought he could still somehow escape. If he could hold on until the fire went out, he could somehow escape when the people dispersed. He could not understand what fire and death meant. Unclear how he tried to convince himself that the pain was not real. He focused his mind on his skin. There was no feeling, he did not feel. The warmth in his skin was not there. The burning smell on his nose was a trick of his mind. The red color that came through his eyes was not real. He focused so much on this, on this lie — that after a while he thought that his pain had subsided. He tried to smile but was too exhausted to do it.

• Jane, on the other hand, had already given up. She knew she couldn’t escape She wasn't aware of what was happening, why they ran away, and what might happen until she was attached to this stake and saw people's faces. Pain and tears were shed fire climbed up from her feet. She got carried away. There was no way out, no ointment to relieve the pain. She could hear and smell the burning of both her own body and those around her. Her eyes were closed, but she could see everything that was around her. She heard people staring at them with disgust, shouting them to burn, talking about the evil of witchcraft, and crying happily as they burned for a crime they did not commit. She suddenly opened her eyes; she didn't look around, just looked in front of her, at the people. Dozens of pairs of eyes, she looked at. She looked at each of them with blame, pity, anger. She wanted them to feel this pain too. At that moment, she really wanted to become a witch and inflict pain on anyone who did it to them with her magic.

• Then, as if nothing happened, everything stopped. They weren’t feeling anything. They weren’t seeing anything. They felt bodiless like some kind of magical creature. They couldn’t even think. They were just there, but they weren’t even aware of that.

• After an unknown amount of time, Alec opened his right eyes just barely. The stars were there, shining brightly as if nothing happened. The moon was there too. It was as if nothing had happened, the fires had not been lit. Alec felt nothing but his sight, and at last, he managed to stop his pain, he thought for a moment. But all that happened was that they burned to ashes and their minds weren't even enough to think and feel.

• Alec's consciousness was coming and going with his eyes open. He felt there for a moment, and not for a moment. Alec saw a man in a black cloak approaching him. His mind kept pacing, even when the man was saying something to him, he couldn't understand what was being said. Then he found himself in heaven. Then in a barren land. Then in a garden.

• Later, he found himself lying in a room. His eyes were open. As he gazed at the stone ceiling, he felt nothing. After a time that his mind could not yet grasp how long was, he realized he was feeling his fingers. The fingers that he couldn't feel just a few seconds ago. The seconds were not real seconds, of course, the time had flowed so differently for him that he did not realize that he had been sleeping for five days. Then he suddenly realized that he could feel his whole body. He wanted to stand up — he found himself standing, before even knowing what happened. His hands had already appeared before his eyes as he thought he wanted to see his hands. At that moment he was met with too much shock to understand what was going through: his hands were unburned. Her white skin was healthier than ever. Then he realized that his skin was glimmering.

• Examining the glow of his skin with puzzled eyes, realizing he was wearing black clothes, he didn't even hear anyone approaching the room. Seconds later, someone entered the room. He turned and looked. Jane was standing before his eyes as if nothing had happened.

One thing was changed — her eyes were as red as the fire they were burned in.

• As Alec tried to understand what was happening, he noticed the middle-aged man behind Jane. Like Jane, his eyes were red. Then Alec noticed that their skins were glimmering. Like his own skin.

• The minutes after that moment was spent listening to what had happened and learning what their life would be like from then on. The man told the twins that when he found them, they had been burned to their bones. He thought they could not be saved, but he did not give up hope. He had brought them here, to the place he called Volterra, to this castle where his family lived, and waited for them to wake up. Jane had recovered and transformed in three days and Alec in five days. He told the twins that they were not human beings but superior beings now, and that they would not die anymore, that no one could harm them anymore. Then he referred to them as my children. Sitting in that stone room at that moment, for the first time since their families, the twins realized that they were truly loved by someone. It happened naturally, nobody needed to affect their emotions. They both remembered their father who had betrayed them, while the man took them under his arms and hugged them. They felt something move from where their unbeating hearts were. Within minutes, they were used to the people they were with. After all, they were two kids. Children who were burned and resurrected on false accusations. Children who couldn’t realize it yet, but would be the most feared people in the world of their own and will not pity anyone but their family, the Volturi.

[tinybookgirl]

Mormon Onion Family

Because I’m thinking about it and I said so.

Tagging @thelilliellama because no one but us cares.

Vidalia wears pants to church like, 65% of the time. She encourages any of the young women who don’t really like wearing dresses and skirts to do so as well. She will go with them and buy them nice pants if they need it.

Vidalia is pretty much the best young women’s president on the planet.

Vidalia doesn’t hide the fact that she’s bisexual, leading to multiple young women coming out to her before coming out to anyone else. A few of the young men too.

Vidalia also makes sure all the young women have her number, letting them know that if they end up a place they don’t wanna be and their parents won’t approve of, she will come pick them up no matter what time it is. Especially if they’re drunk or high.

The best activities are the ones at Vidalias house because they tend to involve large amounts of paint or going out on Yellowtails boat.

Yellowtail and Vidalia always go to youth conference. They make the best trek parents, even if no one else is sure what Yellowtail is saying.

Mentioned briefly by Lillie, Vidalia is an expert at shutting down vaguely or blatantly homophobic lessons.

She’s also not afraid to bring up that she had Sour Cream out of wedlock on a one night stand whenever people get into that ‘we Mormons are the only good people in the world, families have to exist this one certain way’ kind of mentality.

Onion... Onion goes to primary. Technically. It’s always a guessing game as to whether he plans to stay with his class, or disappear. Once he spent all of sharing time inside one of the cabinets in the primary room. No one is sure how he got in there because it wasn’t even the one for their ward.

At least once a month Onion is found chilling in the empty baptismal font.

As Young Women’s President Vidalia gets Sour Cream gets to DJ some of the stake dances. Everyone agrees he’s the best at it.

Assuming Onion is in fact at least eight years old, he must be by now, he goes to scout camp. I do not actually know what happens at scout camp, as I have no brothers, but I feel fairly certain there is a portion of it involving fire and/or knives. They very quickly learn to invite Yellowtail or Vidalia because they are the only people who can stop Onion from burning the camp down.

Amethyst tags along with Vidalia every once in a while and the young women love it when she does, especially the beehives.

Amethyst isn’t too into the whole religion thing, but she likes human stuff, she likes hanging out with Vidalia and the whole thing is just kinda fun for her. She likes shapeshifting into weird shapes and freaking out the young women.

Also Amethyst will unintentionally bring up less common but really good discussion points, such as ‘if Eve wasn’t supposed to eat the fruit, then why was it even there’

She also raises less useful questions such as ‘if you eat the entire tray of sacrament bread, and the entire tray of water, (including the trays) does that count as extra future sin forgiving’

Vidalia may or may not have had to stop her from attempting to test this hyposthesis.

Amethyst will often try to claim she was there at varying points in the Book of Mormon or other biblical history. Whether or not she was is up for debate.

They try to get Onion to do scripture and prayer or give a talk during primary. It never works and Vidalia pretty much just reads it for him.

Sour Cream brings Buck to the activities sometimes and it’s pretty fun. And as cool as the deacons think he is, Sour Cream doesn’t really have a ton of close friends among the kids his age, so it’s nice to have Buck to hang out with.

Onion doesn’t have a ton of friends in his primary class either. There’s probably like, one weird little girl he’s good friends with, and aside from his parents and Sour Cream she’s one of the only people who can ever understand what he’s saying.

Onion has his own quad. He keeps it in his office, buried in the chest of GUYS and GALS.

He did not get it for his eighth birthday, Vidalia and Yellowtail did not buy it for him. No one has a clue how he got it. It has his name on it.

[yshai-tia]

Character Interview: Y’shai Tia

► Name ➔  “Y’shai Tia, nice to meet’cha.”

► Are you single ➔ “Yep.”

► Are you happy ➔  “Aye, sure, why not? I’d say I’m pree’ chuffed.”

► Are you angry? ➔   “Naw, I’m good.”

► Are your parents still married ➔  “Married? Like bondin’, right? That’s a city slicker thing, so naw.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Raincatcher Gully, out in Eastern La Noscea. Wouldn’ encourage ya to go findin’ exactly wherebouts... family ain’t exactly wild ‘bout company.”

► Hair Color ➔  “Black.”

► Eye Color ➔ “Blue on th’ left, green on th’ right, a common combo among Seekers, y’know?”

► Birthday ➔  “First Umbral moon, on the... twenty-eighth day. Early born in the year, Ma used to say I was an eager kit right from birth.”

► Mood ➔  “Still chuffed, mate.”

► Gender ➔  “A lad, las’ time I checked.”

► Summer or winter ➔ “Summer.. was always warm where I grew up, yeah? The cold is a helluva nasty thing, I’ve come to learn.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Mm.. the morn’. Got more daylight to burn aheada ya.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “Wif what?” cue head-tilt.

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Hells, that’s a lot to feel all at once, ain’t it? Interest at sight, sure-- curiosity at sight, aye, a deep, simmerin’ curiosity you can’t ignore.”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “Huh, not much time on me hands since leaving home t’ forge such things, ask me again some other time, yeah?”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔  “Cor, I sure as hells hope not, that’d been right awful of me.”

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “... Hum. No? But-- am lil’ scared maybe ‘bout being held back, y’know. Being controlled. If it’s a worthy cause though.. I give it my all. Always. Jaguar’s promise.”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Hugged..? I don’ think-- oh! Few days back I helped Joye out wif some chores, she hugged me when she thanked me, that count, right?”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “If I do they’re damn good at keepin’ secrets-- c’mon lemme enjoy the admiration a little!”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Dunno. Hard to say, like to think I bounce back pree’ quick from most things, so all’s bene.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Call me a sinner but why not both? Do I gotta choose?”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Lemonade. La Noscea shores grow some crackin’ fruit.”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Bet’cha get a real kick askin’ Miqo’te this, don’tcha? Both are cute buggers, don’t make me choose.”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “Hmm, s’good to have people you can trust good an’ proper.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “How ‘bout... a wild night out that turns into a romantic night in that has us snoozin’ away the day, if ya catch my meanin’.”

► Day or night ➔ “If ya asked me some moons ago I’d’ve said day in a heartbeat. But. Night’s gotta lot of fun waitin’ to happen if ya give it a chance.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Cor, more times than I can count.” A wide, bashful grin spreads across his features then, lost in nostalgia. “Firs’ time was when I was just a kit; took some of my littermates out of Jaguar territory, told’m we were goin’ on an adventure, heh. No one got hurt or nothin’ but Y’mijoh Nunh gave us such a dressin’ down, gods, I can still hear his voice ringin’ in me ears. Feels like a lifetime ago and yesterday all the same.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “No way, we Miqo’te have crackin’ balance, y’know? Tails ain’t just for show-- no those damn stairs in Ishgard don’ count, those things are bloody ice-covered death traps.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “... Aye. Who hasn’t?”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ “In a way, I kinda did when I left, but. Wasn’ out of want for disappearin’ none, no, just felt like.. the right thing to do, y’know? If anythin’ now I’d like th’ opposite, to be noticed for what I can do. Earn my keep in this life and all that.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “’Nother hard choice, damn. Not fair-- y’know that look when folk smile, really smile, they get a whole toothy grin that splits their cheeky face that they can’t hide for the life of’em? Th’ sort that reaches their eyes an’ makes’em light up all a sparkle? That’s tops.”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Shorter’s cute. Too many of those tall as fuck Elezen an’ Au Ra blokes who tote ‘round their height, usin’ it to be all aggressive over ye. Right assholes the lot of’em-- no I ain’t jealous, I ain’t pouting!”

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔  “Figure if yer attracted to someone there’s somethin’ you’ll find intelligent ‘bout them; book learnin’, street smarts, good wif their hands. One in the same prolly.”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “Hm. Both have their merits, aye? Though I guess... ain’t there somethin’ nice ‘bout the thought of wakin’ up next to a ‘nother warm body? Someone who fancied ya ‘nuff to stick around. Shit, thas’ corny to say, ainnit?”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔  “Back when I was still around, aye, mostly. Love me Ma to death, and Y’mijoh was a good Nunh-- stern, but real fatherly like to just ‘bout everyone, no matter if he was yer sire or not. Sure there were some who.. who didn’t like me an’ my Ma all that much, for real stupid reasons if ye ask me, but. For the most part.. was good. Miss’em.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “Naw, why be so glum? Ups and downs, topsy-turvy like any other life really. Been out an’ about long ‘nuff now to have heard other folks’ stories, we all got our triumphs an’ trials.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “Guess I sorta did, huh? Puttin’ it that way sounds so kittish though...”

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “From what? A house? A job? A bar? Nay, well.. maybe almost on that las’ one.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “Naw, I ain’t ‘fraid to butt heads when it comes to conflicts, sometimes a good scrap is good for a friendship y’know?”

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “Pree’ good I s’ppose.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ “Hrmm.. guess don’ really got one proper since leavin’ home--oh! How ‘bout my ‘bo? Omelette sticks by me no matter where I drag th’ poor yellow sod, thas’ best friend standard to me.”

► Who knows everything about you ➔ “No one I hope, not even me, where’s th’ fun in knowin’ all me secrets? Though Omelette might be comin’ pretty close what with how often he listens to me ramble... how good is a Chocobo’s memory?”

Tagged by: @placesyoucallhome​ (thank ya muchly!)

Tagging: ​ @warriorof-sun-light​, @amahrigold​, @trahja-tia​, @silvertail-ffxiv​, @miqojak​, @lady-vagrant​, @lightdevoid​, @nijah-wolff-ffxiv​, @natali-tia​, @toe-ab​

[queenofthecommunistcannibals]

For work I am watching a bunch of interviews from old Cold War submariners and boy howdy do they have some stories. Some high lights so far:

The cook's nickname was (still is) Hotdog.

He has the word "Hotdog" on the t-shirt he was given/has as a former crew member.

One of them gave a quick summary of his life before the Navy and in about two sentences he says he dropped out of school in eighth grade, ran away from NYC to California, became a carny, and then was given the option of going to school, jail, or the military and figured the Navy sounded pretty okay. He joined the Navy on his 17th birthday. That is literally all the detail he gives and says he was a carny as if it is totally normal for someone to go all Clint Barton. He doesn't even say what he did for the carnival or why he was potentially going to jail.

The boat was a spy sub and had a bunch of super high tech (for the '50s/'60s) radio equipment. While they were still in port, one of the enginemen who was 19 and didn't know anything about radios decided he would get some music for the long trip ahead. So when he was on watch at night he taught himself how to use this super high tech super secret radio equipment and patched in a Hawaiian rock station. He taught himself how to hook it up to their entertainment system. Then he spent his four hour shifts recording reel-to-reel tapes of rock music. He offered to show other people but they turned him down. Then when they got underway all anyone had to listen to was hours upon hours of rock music, including the older white officers. They ended up either liking it or just getting used to it and were still listening to these 1958 reel-to-reels when the former crewmember left.

The recorder described it as "one of my finest hours"

A former crew member thought there was a fire in the missile hangar because of a heat warning that went off so he pumped the missile hangar full of water. Turns out it was a burst pipe and he had just ruined four multi-million dollar nuclear weapons. But the crew was more upset that he ruined the other things stored in the hangar: movie reels and the labels on the food cans

The cooks had to just guess what was in the cans from then on. A lot of it turned out to be okra. They ate. A lot. Of okra. To the point that most of the guys on that cruise still remember all the okra.

Some army guys decided to terrifyingly haze the submariners by kidnapping and assaulting them and treating them as prisoners of war, claiming this is what the Soviets would do if they were caught. The crewmember recounting the story describes being physically tortured by other members of our own military like it wasn't no thing. "They just wanted to see our reactions."

The carny-turned-submariner signed up for subs because that was what his C.O. had been. He didn't know anything about the mission, but was cool with that. He signed a contract that said he wouldn't discuss the mission for 50 years.

On patrol he realized they were spies and he could easily die out here.

There was a mission during which one of the distillers broke and they were producing so little fresh water the crew didn't get to shower once in 55 days. On your average 70+ day mission most crewmembers showered 2-3 times.

A former crew member said that while they all smelled horrible they all smelled the same so it didn't matter.

Once the vacuum created by the air snorkel slamming shut ruined a cake. Another time it burned a cook who was boiling potatoes.

The Captain's wife, Katherine, wrapped presents before they left on patrol on a cruise that would last for Christmas so they would have something to open. "I don't remember what they were, but they were a damned present" -Hotdog

One of them grew up in Hawaii and used to visit the Marine base on Maui. The gave him presents including fucking bayonets. He was roughly seven years old at the time.

A final submarine qualification exam could take 12 hours easily

"[on a submarine] you become part of the family because I know I can depend on you...and you know you can depend on me."

All naval structure breaks down on a sub. Much more equal. People tend to get along regardless of rank, religion, sexual orientation, or race because everyone was equally dependent on each other.

They were on patrol when Kennedy got shot and it took hours to figure out what actually happened. They were at Pearl Harbor when the Cuban Missile Crisis was going on and their orders were to load up and be ready to go at a moment's notice.

The actual instructions for launch, plus the coordinates for their target was locked in a safe in the Captain's room that he could only open after a call from the White House. They were off the coast of the USSR as a threat, they had no plans to actually launch. The Soviets had similar subs off our West Coast.

60-80 days on mission. Underwater for all but three of them.

Alka-Seltzer and tinfoil are enough to throw off sonar.

There were spies on board who would appear out of nowhere in port, get on, decode messages from the Soviets, then disappear as soon as they were in port again. Never to be seen again. The sailors didn't even know their real names.

One describes submarines as "the most fun you can have with your clothes on." This is the same guy volunteers with us and once hid from a Secret Service agent to prove that he could. That story I have heard the full circumstances around. He then said that Secret Service guys are easy, "they're part of the treasury department, practically accountants" (he was impressed I knew the origins of the secret service). The real challenge, he said, was hiding/escaping from an FBI agent. "That's a story for another time!" I haven't gotten that story yet. He also calls me Lady H and is the coolest person I have ever met.

[youngbloodseavey]

to the heavens and back // corbyn besson

requested: no, but this is based off a scene from the tv show “this is us”

this is by far, the longest and saddest imagine i have ever written. it’s 3313 words of pure fucking sadness. please don’t hate me i’m sorry corbyn okay bYE

pairing: corbyn x female!reader

triggers: house fires, hospitals, death.

||

“mom, dad!” giselle stumbled into corbyn and y/n’s bedroom, coughing violently as she shook her parents awake.

“what is it,” corbyn mumbled groggily, sitting up as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

“the house is on fire.” giselle cried, sending a jolt down y/n and corbyn’s backs. and that’s when they began to smell it.

smoke. thick, grey, firey smoke. the nauseating scent of it entered their lungs at an instant, and corbyn and y/n leaped out of bed.

“y/n! stay here with ellie, i’m going to get justin and alex. wet some towels and hold them over your faces, it’ll help keep the smoke out of your system.” corbyn called to his wife and daughter, who nodded and immediately ran to the bathroom to retrieve the materials corbyn asked for.

corbyn took in a deep breath, before throwing the door open, immediately being hit with a wave of thick smoke. corbyn let out a cough, waving the smoke away from his face before closing the door behind him and beginning to run towards justin, his oldest son’s room.

he sprinted across the hall, passing the balcony that overlooked the entrance to their gorgeous california home, that corbyn and y/n were able to purchase after years of hard work on both their parts. all their hard work, going up in red-hot flames.

corbyn spared a quick glance over the balcony, seeing that most of the first floor had gone up in flames, and the fire was steadily creeping up the stairs. corbyn let out a violent cough once again, trying to rid his system of the toxicity that was entering it, before barging into justin’s room.

the fifteen-year old was still asleep, which was no surprise. he took after his father in the “need to sleep 24/7″ department.

“justin! get up right now!” corbyn yelled at his son, shaking his lanky body to rouse the boy out of bed.

“what’s going on, is it time for school yet?” justin mumbled groggily, the intensity of the situation him and his family was in clearly not registering in his mind.

“the house is on fire. now get your damn ass up.” corbyn growled, throwing the covers off of justin’s body. 

justin’s bright blue eyes widened, and he immediately leaped out of bed.

“what? the house is on fire?” justin’s eyes were wild, and he stared at his dad with pleading eyes.

“yes it is. hurry up, so i can get your brother too,” corbyn ushered justin to the door, feeling the heat radiate from the other side. corbyn softly cursed under his breath.

he grabbed justin by the shoulders, feeling his son begin to shake and his breathing quicken.

“take a deep breath j, and it’ll all be okay.” corbyn reassured his clearly anxious kin, before slamming the door open, seeing that the hallway to the master bedroom had still not yet been consumed by the flames.

corbyn and justin sprinted across the hall, flinging the door open to the master bedroom where y/n and giselle were waiting. y/n immediately took justin in her arms, hugging and kissing his forehead and rambling on questions as to his condition.

“i’m going to get alex. the moment i close this door, stuff some wet towels beneath the door. got it?” corbyn breathed out, y/n reaching out and handing corbyn a towel to put over his own face.

“be careful babe, i better be seeing both you and alex back here in the next five minutes okay?” y/n spoke, terror in her eyes. corbyn pressed a swift kiss to her forehead and nodded, before using one hand to press the wet towel up to his face and the other to slam open the door.

the dark orange flames had caught to the main hallway of the second floor, slowly beginning to burn away at the carpet and banister. corbyn began to run to where alex’s room was, knowing that there wasn’t much more time to be able to get his whole family out alive.

corbyn slammed the door open, seeing that his twelve year-old son was already awake and pacing the floors, tears streaming down his face. alex ran to his father the moment he saw him, flinging his arms around him and beginning to sob.

“shh, it’s gonna be okay. put this towel over your mouth, and hold onto me. you’re gonna be okay. the moment i open this door, we are going to go as quickly as we can to mom and i’s bedroom, okay?” corbyn pressed a light kiss onto his son’s forehead, handing him the damp towel and taking in a breath of clean oxygen before whipping the door open. he stumbled back, seeing the flames licking at the frame of the door on one side, leaving only a strip of space untouched by fire.

corbyn’s arm went immediately to push alex away from the impending flames, his ocean eyes looking about wildly for something to protect them from the fire.

his gaze landed on the twin mattress that laid upon alex’s bed, and he immediately threw the covers and pillows off the mattress, heaving the mattress up as a type of shield.

“alright alex, no matter what, do not let go of me. okay?” corbyn spoke to his quivering son, who nodded and latched his arms around corbyn’s waist while still holding the towel to his mouth. corbyn took in a breath and started into the hall, holding up the mattress to shield himself and alex from the flames.

corbyn felt his flesh become singed as flames licked at his fingertips, the exposed parts of his arm becoming red and painful. alex’s grip on corbyn’s waist was as tight as the poor boy could hold, and he held in sobs and screams as he jumped away from the deadly flame.

“only a few more seconds alex, you’re gonna be okay.” the blonde man spoke through gritted teeth, pushing away the immense pain flowing through his veins to focus on saving his family.

after a few more agonizing seconds, corbyn flung open the door of the master bedroom to see the rest of the family huddled by the window, and he pushed alex towards his mother.

y/n immediately smothered alex with affection, checking him for burns and any type of injury. she pressed a firm kiss to her youngest son’s forehead before moving him along to his older brother, who took alex in his arms and held him tight.

y/n rushed up to her husband, taking his face in her hands and planting a hard kiss to his lips.

“never scare me like that ever again besson.” she warned, wiping some of the soot from his porcelain skin.

“i would never dream to.” corbyn kissed her again, before running over to the large window that was on the side of the wall and prying it open. “c’mon kids, y/n. climb onto the roof,” he ushered out his children one by one, and took y/n by the hand as he guided her onto the tiles of the roof.

it seemed as though luck as on the side of the besson family, for the moment they stepped foot onto the roof the door to the master bedroom blew in, the flames now beginning to overtake the room.

corbyn grabbed a sheet from the bed before joining his family on the roof, rolling the sheet up as tightly as he could in order to create a make-shift rope.

one by one, corbyn swiftly lowered each member of his family to the ground below, until he was the only one left standing on top of the roof.

corbyn stood on the roof for a moment, debating on whether or not to risk himself and run into the fire to save items of importance, or to go safely back down to the ground.

“princess! where’s princess?” he heard giselle yell from down below, referring to the fluffy, white pomeranian that y/n and himself had bought for giselle’s eighth birthday.

the moment the screams escape from his daughter’s mouth, the deed was sealed in corbyn’s mind. he took one glace at his terrified family before leaping back through the window into the firey house, before disappearing from sight as the smoke consumed his form.

“corbyn!”

“dad!”

“babe!”

the horrified screams of y/n and the kids filled the air, piercing like a knife in the cold night. sobs broke out from each member of the family as thoughts of the worst entered their minds, each of them clinging to each other for support.

y/n gathered all her children in her arms, tears running uncontrollably as she choked down sobs. she could hear the sound of sirens approaching her, but all she could focus on is the burning house that contained her husband.

she felt as if the world was crashing down upon her as all she could do is cling onto her children. staring, hoping, praying that her sweet corbyn will reappear from the flames.

she could see out of the corner of her eye the bright red firetrucks approaching, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the horror.

she could feel the firemen pulling her back, away from the house. but she felt as if she was glued to the ground, not able to move even a single limb.

she could hear the screams and sobs of her children, but they were distant. her whole body felt numb.

let him be alive. let him be alive. let him be alive.

the words repeated themselves like a prayer, and minutes felt like hours as the distressed besson family waited to see if their beloved corbyn would appear.

it had been at least a minute since corbyn had disappeared into the flames, and the hope that had ignited itself inside the members of the family had begun to die out.

and just as the last bit of optimism had died in their hearts, the front door burst open. it seemed like the world had stopped turning as the charred wood revealed a dirty, sooty, coughing, but alive, corbyn besson.

“i got princess,” he managed to choke out between heaves, holding up previously white pomeranian, who was now black with soot. with him he also carried a sack, which was full of important documents, albums, and family photos.

“corbyn!” y/n burst out in sobs, breaking away from the grip of the firefighters to run to her husband. corbyn set down princess, who immediately ran to giselle.

y/n barreled into corbyn, taking him tightly in her arms as her tears made marks on his blackened clothing.

“never do that to us again you bastard,” she mumbled into his chest, before taking his face into her hands and planting a firm, passionate kiss on his lips.

“i love you,” he murmured, pulling away from their embrace.

“i love you too besson.” y/n replied softly, savoring the beauty of his presence, a presence she never thought she would be able to feel again.

“dad! daddy!” the voices of justin, alex, and giselle rang out as they ran to their father, each of them enveloping him in a bear hug.

“i love you guys,” he coughed out, trying to choke out some more words. but instead of words, only coughs and heaves left his mouth.

“give your father some space,” panic settled back into y/n’s heart, as corbyn fell onto his knees. “medic! we need a medic!” she screamed towards the fleet of first responders, and nearly immediately a stretcher came running towards them.

corbyn was nearly passed out, and he was on all fours desperately trying to breathe.

“what’s happening to daddy!?” giselle shrieked, trying to run to her father but was quickly held back by her two older brothers.

“shh, everything is going to be alright,” justin whispered into the ears of his younger sister, but inside he knew what he said wasn’t true. he knew something was wrong.

corbyn was quickly lifted onto a stretcher, the paramedics immediately put an oxygen mask onto his mouth before running him to a ambulance.

“kids, i’m going to go with your dad. stay here okay? these nice firefighters are going to take care of you,” y/n rushed over to her kids, her breath speeding up as panic settled into her heart. “i love you guys very much,” she managed to choke out, before running to the ambulance that corbyn was being loaded into and hopping in.

giselle, justin, and alex were left there, being guided into a police car by a nice woman in a firefighters uniform. justin gently picked his baby sister up, feeling her wet tears soak into his t-shirt.

no tears fell down the teenager’s face, but he felt the fear and despair in his heart. something was going to go wrong.

||

y/n had one hand on alex’s shoulder, the other wrapped around giselle’s small frame. justin stood directly next to her, stone faced and looking at the floor.

y/n didn’t know a human could produce as many tears as she could, it seemed like there was a never-ending stream of pain flowing through her body since the fire.

the piercing noise of a heart monitor, driving her to near insanity. the monotone “beep” of a flatline echoing through her brain, tearing her heart apart with each passing second. 

she never thought she would be clad in black, standing next to the polished wooden box that contained the body of her husband.

her sweet corbyn. the love of her life, the boy who stole here heart in a moment when she was merely 16. the boy who she exchanged tender vows with, the one who held her hand as she birthed their beautiful children into their lives.

the love who would live no more.

his lungs had failed him. the very same lungs that let him travel around the world with his four best friends. the lungs that touched the hearts of millions with corbyn’s angelic melodies. the lungs that saved lives, failing to save his.

his brain had lost oxygen. the same brain that mesmerized millions of adoring people for years. the brain that held a love for outer space, the brain that was smarter than he ever let on. the brain that could solve any problem thrown at it, not able to think anymore.

his heart no longer beat. the heart that pulsed with adrenaline as he raced around stage, feeling the energy of the crowd and hearing the lyrics that the band poured their hearts into being sung back. the heart that held so much love for music and his fans, always wanting to go out and play or meet fans no matter how exhausted he was. the heart that was filled with so much love and kindness, the heart that touched millions of lives with a mere smile. the heart that could no longer sing, no longer feel, no longer live.

who knew that the boy who seemed like he could live forever with his energy and mind, would die from cardiac arrest in his hospital bed.

“and now mrs. besson will be giving a speech.” the pastor gestured to y/n, who dried her tears and kissed the foreheads of her children before walking up to the podium.

her bloodshot eyes scanned the crowd, seeing the mass amounts of people whom her husband had changed the lives of. they had decided to have an open funeral, and whomever wished to attend could. fans from all over the world came to mourn the loss of the charismatic, goofy singer, and sea of people seemed to go on for miles.

it was incredible to see how many people a boy band member could touch with his music and heart.

“i met corbyn when we were sixteen, and the moment i saw him, i knew we would be together. i was never a believer in love at first sight, well, that was until i locked eyes with him before third period science. and who knew that a single moment of eye contact would bring me the best experiences of my life,” y/n laughed tearily, trying to compose herself as she felt her voice begin to break.

“corbyn was a blessing to this world. there’s no other way to put it. from his music, to his laugh, to his pure and gentle soul. he was practically perfect,” y/n felt to the tears begin to trail down her face, and she did nothing to stop them.

“but more than that, he was human. he had rough days, hard times. but that’s what made him so amazing.”

“there’s nothing that can fill the void that burns our hearts and souls. there’s no one and nothing that can replace his sunny smile and his goofy ways. my children-” y/n’s voice broke, and she nearly ran off stage when she made eye contact with her son.

justin gave her a reassuring nod, becoming teary himself as he tried so desperately to keep himself composed. with his father gone, it was his job to take care and look out for his family.

he had to be the “man of the house” now, the one who took over his father’s role. he couldn’t let his dad down, not when his family needed him the most.

justin tried to wipe away his tears, but gave up as they simply rolled down his face in streams. he put his arms around his younger siblings, squeezing their shoulders as the trio watched their mom onstage.

“corbyn gave me the most amazing things i could ever ask for, my children.” y/n continued, her heart swelling as she saw her children hug each other in the crow. “corbyn matthew besson blessed the world with his incredible mind, his angelic voice, and most of all, his compassionate heart.”

“he never failed to amaze, and will never cease to. i know that his memory will forever live on in the hearts of millions, and i hope it’s comforting to all to know that corbyn will never truly leave.”

“and while i would trade anything to have him standing here today, i know that he is where he is truly meant to be. among the angels.” y/n looked up into the clear blue sky, feeling the warmth of the sun shining on her skin.

she closed her eyes for a moment, relishing in the warmth that suddenly ran through her body. her eyes opened, being met with the sight of the gorgeous azure sky that mirrored the mesmerizing color of corbyn’s irises.

“i love you corbyn, to the heavens and back a thousand times,” she whispered to the sky, repeating the words that corbyn and herself exchanged frequently. it was their phrase of love, their “always” and their “okay”.

“thank you,” y/n spoke for a moment, not knowing how to end her heartfelt speech. she relished in the silence that followed, and slowly walked back to where justin, alex, and giselle stood.

the pastor took the microphone and began to say a closing prayer, and y/n took her children under her arms again. she choked back sobs, closing her eyes as she imagined corbyn’s warmth enveloping her as it used to.

she imagined his soft lips on her forehead, his arms wrapped around her shoulder, his chin balanced on top of her head.

maybe if she imagined hard enough, his touch would be real again. he would have never been torn from the universe as he so painfully was.

but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. and her sweet love was gone forever.

and it was such a painful reality to know.

[usviraltrends-blog]

New Post has been published on https://usviraltrends.com/a-babys-murder-opened-a-dark-chapter-in-ireland-that-still-hasnt-been-closed/

A baby's murder opened a dark chapter in Ireland that still hasn't been closed

Cahersiveen, Ireland — At the edge of an Irish village lies a cemetery nestled between lush hills and the craggy shores of the Atlantic. Under an umbrella of iridescent clouds, Catherine Cournane makes her way toward the back plots.

She meanders past the grave of her mother, two brothers and a cousin. She visits them often here in Cahersiveen’s Holy Cross Graveyard. But on this day, she is here for someone else.

Baby John.

It has been two days since Catherine last tended his grave and at the headstone, she sees fresh chrysanthemums. Their yellow and orange petals have weathered the pelting rain and wind. Catherine wonders who left them there.

Other babies are buried at Holy Cross and their loved ones look after them. But Baby John has no one.

So, Catherine took on the task of looking after the grave. She felt compelled to make sure Baby John rested in peace. He deserved that, Catherine thought, after the ugliness that had surrounded him.

Catherine Cournane at the Holy Cross Graveyard in Cahersiveen.

Baby John’s headstone reads: “I am the Kerry Baby.”

Catherine was 15 when the tragedy unfolded.

She was in high school when Baby John died 34 years ago and she had helped carry his tiny casket to the graveyard. She was there when hundreds of schoolchildren stopped off to pay their respects with prayer after school. She joined the children when they burst into spontaneous song at the infant’s grave.

In Ireland, it wasn’t unusual for a community to gather around a loss of their own. But Baby John’s funeral was different.

Catherine did not know who the baby’s parents were. No one did. Still, no one does.

His three-day-old body had been found on a rocky stretch of beach on the outskirts of town. He had been strangled and stabbed 28 times.

But what Catherine does know is this: A baby was laid to rest on a spring day more than three decades ago and nothing would ever be the same again.

The sordid saga that unfolded would shake Catherine, her community and her country. And it would force Ireland to confront the bitter truth on how it treated its women.

In spring of 1984, Catherine was 15 and living at home with her parents and six brothers and sisters in Cahersiveen. The town’s 1,300 people had the good fortune of residing on a stunning spit of coastal land in southwest Ireland’s County Kerry that felt like the edge of Europe. It very nearly is.

Back then, everyone knew one another and if they didn’t know someone, they’d at least know of them. Police stopped residents for missing lights on bicycles but rarely anything more.

That was until Baby John.

A runner had discovered the newborn’s body on the beach and the gardai, as the Irish police are known, called Catherine’s father to the scene of the crime. Tom was an undertaker and Catherine had been surrounded by death all her life. But she took notice that night.

Tom christened the baby with water from a nearby freshwater stream. He named him John and placed him in a tiny casket. Catherine stared at it on the back seat of her father’s car. It was the smallest she’d ever seen.

She knew the circumstances of the baby’s death. She knew the police were hunting the killer; that they suspected the baby’s mother.

A couple of weeks passed. Then, one afternoon, as daffodils were beginning to break through winter soil, Catherine cycled home, down familiar lanes, to find two men waiting for her in the sitting room.

They were the police and Catherine knew exactly why they were there.

Do you have a boyfriend? they asked Catherine.

No.

Do you know anyone who does have a boyfriend?

Yes.

They asked if any of those women had been pregnant and if Catherine had heard any gossip about anyone having an affair with a married man.

No, she replied.

Catherine nearly fainted from the gardai’s questioning. She thought of herself as a “good girl,” and her mother did too. The police had brought fear into their home.

But in 1984, fear was the norm in Catholic Ireland.

Although a referendum a decade before had drastically reduced the Church’s political sway, its patriarchal weight still came down on aspects of society.

The Church crafted the curriculum for nearly all state schools and sex education was practically non-existent for girls like Catherine.

Her only exposure to sex was a box of condoms a relative once brought home as a souvenir from England. She kept the contraband hidden away, and included one as a gag gift for a friend’s birthday. When her mother found out, she got a wallop.

Condoms required a prescription and birth control pills were available only to married women if they were able to find a doctor to prescribe them.

Women found themselves raising smaller families than their mothers’ generation; yet Ireland still held one of the highest fertility rates in Western Europe. In decades prior, unmarried women who became pregnant would disappear “on holiday” for months. More likely, they were sent to church-run homes to deliver babies that would be given up for adoption, a practice for which the Church has apologized in recent years. The last mother and baby home only shut its doors in 1996.

The women would return home to silence. No one dared to ask questions.

There were few ways out for women who felt stuck in oppressive marriages; divorce was illegal and would be so until 1996.

Irish women had little say over their bodies. The state was in control. It was in this environment that the Baby John investigation unfolded.

A road leading to White Strand, the beach where Baby John was found.

At Catherine’s home in Cahersiveen, the gardai pressed on with questions.

How could you be coming to talk to me about this? she thought. My God, I’m only 15 and I haven’t done anything.

After Catherine, the police moved on to the next young woman. And then the next. They were interrogating nearly every woman of childbearing age on the Iveragh peninsula.

Brigid, whose name has been changed to protect her identity, was one of them. She was 24, single and working in a neighboring county. One weekend, she returned home to Cahersiveen to visit her parents and found the police waiting.

She has never forgotten the way one of the police officers examined her body. She felt his eyes burning through her.

She had never taken any chances and would never have become pregnant. Her parents raised her in the Church and she knew pregnancy before marriage would have amounted to a death sentence. She’d seen the fate her aunt suffered after becoming pregnant out of wedlock. Her aunt was thrown out of the house and never seen again. She had, like so many other Irish women, been erased.

At the time, the line of questioning young women like Brigid and Catherine experienced was not so shocking. Irish authorities were pushing back against significant gains made by women’s rights groups including the abolition of a law that prevented married women in civil service from working as well as campaigns for equal pay, equal rights and access to contraceptives.

None of it sat well with conservatives who saw the advances as a threat to Ireland’s traditional way of life.

Road signs in Cahersiveen town.

Religious figurines and “Rally to Save the 8th“ posters seen through a window in town.

The Cahersiveen Garda station.

A backlash was evident when over a million people welcomed Pope John Paul II to Ireland in 1979. To some, including Mary McAuliffe, a lecturer at University College Dublin, the Catholic leader’s teachings that contraception was immoral, divorce was unconceivable and a woman’s role was at home played a part in reversing some of the gains women had made.

In 1982, a schoolteacher was fired after becoming pregnant out of wedlock with a married man; two years later, Ireland’s Supreme Court ruled children born out of wedlock had no succession rights.

In September 1983, a referendum was called to constitutionally ban abortion, already illegal in practice.

Church and state blurred into one, culminating in anti-choice rhetoric, including a comment from a County Galway bishop who reportedly said the most dangerous place for a baby is in the mother’s womb.

The abortion referendum passed with a two-thirds majority and the Eighth Amendment to the Irish constitution provided the unborn with an equal right to life as the mother.

Women lived under pervasive fear. Shortly after the Eighth Amendment was passed, a 15-year-old girl, Ann Lovett, became pregnant and died in a grotto. She had gone there to secretly give birth, under a statue of the Virgin Mary.

Lovett died around the same time police were interviewing Catherine, Brigid and scores of other women in the Baby John case.

Soon the police had a suspect. Her name was Joanne Hayes.

Joanne had given birth to a boy the day before Baby John’s body was found on the beach.

She delivered her child alone on her family’s farm in Abbeydorney, a tiny town less than two hours’ drive from Cahersiveen.

Joanne lived on that farm with her infant daughter, mother, aunt and siblings. She worked as a receptionist in a newly built gym in nearby Tralee, where she met the father of her children, Jeremiah Locke.

The relationship was far from typical. Jeremiah was married and had children from another marriage. And even though abortion was illegal in Ireland, adultery was not.

Still, Joanne concealed her pregnancy from her family and coworkers. It was, like the relationship, an open secret.

By the time Joanne went into labor, the couple had broken up and Jeremiah was no longer by her side when she gave birth. It’s not clear if the baby was stillborn or whether he died soon after. Only Joanne knows.

What is known is that she was a grieving mother who wanted to keep the ordeal to herself. Quietly, she buried her son in a field at her family farm.

But Joanne needed medical care and checked into a nearby hospital.

The Baby John investigation was going nowhere and after the police saw Joanne’s name on a registry of new mothers, they pursued a theory connecting her to the murder that, court documents would later show, was “inexcusable.”

She was brought in for questioning by detectives. For most of Joanne’s life, the gardai had earned an intimidating reputation. Just a few years before, Amnesty International had published a report alleging “systematic maltreatment” of suspects, including “oppressive methods of extracting statements.”

Joanne told them she could prove she was not Baby John’s mother and pleaded with them to take her back to the baby’s grave. But the gardai refused and threatened to throw her in jail and her daughter in an orphanage.

Intimidated and scared, Joanne relented and told the police what they wanted to hear: she had killed Baby John and disposed his body at sea. Her family went along with the falsehood.

The truth would take more than three decades to surface.

As the police pressed on, Joanne was moved from jail to a psychiatric hospital. There, she finally convinced police to recover her baby’s body at the farm. The police now had two dead babies to account for.

They bandied about the idea of “heteropaternal superfecundation,” a medical anomaly suggesting Joanne had been pregnant with twins by two different men.

But Joanne’s blood work proved she couldn’t have been Baby John’s mother. The police were forced to drop the charges.

After the charges were dropped, Joanne and her family reported allegations of police abuse, both physical and psychological — but the findings of an internal police investigation were inconclusive.

Public outcry prompted a probe into the gardai’s behavior but that quickly devolved into a trial of Joanne’s womanhood.

Joanne Hayes at the Tribunal of Inquiry in Tralee, County Kerry, in 1985. Michael MacSweeney/Provision

Women demonstrate in support of Joanne Hayes outside the Tribunal. Michael MacSweeney/Provision

For months, Joanne and her family’s private lives were put on public display at a tribunal, with scores of male officials taking turns to assassinate her character according to the court documents.

A legal team showed maps where Joanne and her lover had been intimate; a doctor detailed the size of Joanne’s birth canal; male psychiatrists aired their opinions on her personal character. One even said that Joanne didn’t appear to be guilt-stricken enough at the death of her own child.

The judge ordered sedation for a visibly upset Joanne and in this state, she took the stand to testify.

Joanne’s sole consolation was that from her tragedy grew support from women across the country. They rallied outside the court and sent Joanne yellow roses as a symbol of solidarity. They wrote letters and cards to her, detailing their own stories of suffering.

The support was solace for Joanne but justice eluded her.

In 1985, the tribunal absolved the police of wrongdoing. The officers central to the case were all eventually promoted.

But those officers never apologized.

She returned home to Abbeydorney and shrouded herself in a cloak of privacy. For 34 years, she has lived there, out of the limelight.

Baby John’s killer was never found.

For all these years, Catherine has carried the story of Baby John with her. At his grave, she dreams of the life he might have lived. Or not.

If contraception had been readily available, maybe he would have not been born at all. If society had allowed for a more open conversation about sex, he might still be alive. Maybe he would have grown to have a family of his own.

Catherine thinks about her own family.

She raised an 18-year-old daughter in a home without taboos, one that celebrated women. She raised her to become a woman no one would dare mess with.

Catherine wanted to make sure her daughter never experienced what she had.

She’d lost her innocence the day her father brought home Baby John’s body. She was shocked when she learned about Joanne and how she was treated, though, looking back, she realizes it was that moment that cemented her commitment to women’s rights.

Catherine never forgot that the blame in the Kerry babies case had fallen on a woman. No men were ever at fault.

Irish society has seen significant social changes since then. The Church has lost much of its moral authority, rocked by cases of scandal, sex abuse and the discovery of a mass grave of babies born out of wedlock in Tuam.

The small ripples of change that feminists won in the 1970s and ‘80s have since swollen into waves of protest on Ireland’s shores.

In 1992, the landmark X Case made it legal for Irish women to travel abroad for abortions, adding the threat of suicide as grounds for abortion.

In 2013, Savita Halappanavar died of sepsis after being denied a termination of a miscarrying fetus in a Galway hospital, prompting the government to pass a bill allowing abortions when a woman’s life is in danger.

And in January, 34 years after Joanne was wrongfully accused, the police finally issued her a formal apology. They admitted that DNA conclusively ruled that she could have not been Baby John’s mother. They also announced they would reopen the Baby John case.

But for Irish women like Catherine, none of it is enough.

No apology or monetary compensation, she believes, could ever make things right for Joanne.

Catherine realizes that Irish attitudes have changed. Still, she knows many people in Ireland remain reluctant to talk about the Kerry babies saga. And the tribunal transcripts remain restricted to the public.

“It’s about time for Ireland to wake up and shake itself and say this was wrong,” she says.

Catherine says she was too naive, too powerless then to realize she might have been able to put an end to what has been described as a “medieval witch-hunt.”

Brigid has come forward on her own volition and Walter Sullivan, the detective leading the new investigation, says it’s standard protocol to go back to everyone. That could include Catherine.

The police won’t comment on the case, except to refute the notion that only women are considered suspects. O’Sullivan says the renewed probe focuses on DNA samples that might help identify Baby John and his parents.

For many women here, a familiar pattern is again unfolding.

Ireland is again calling a referendum on abortion. And the pope is again scheduled for a visit. Only this time, his visit will come after the vote.

And this time, Catherine is certain Irish women are more aware of their rights than before.

They will have a chance to voice their opinions when they cast their votes in a May 25 abortion referendum, hailed by many, including the prime minister, as a critical step for women’s rights in Ireland.

While her nation stands poised to make history, Catherine spends her time in Cahersiveen, with her daughter and her ailing father. At 88, he has grown frail and is no longer able to look after Baby John’s grave.

The headstone has been destroyed several times and Catherine and her family are fearful that new interest in the Baby John case will once again bring trouble.

On this misty afternoon, Catherine plucks weeds poking out of the gravel, cleaning the grave as though it held one of her own.

Baby John would have been 34 this year.

As Catherine leaves the grave, she sees a plush bear sullied in the mud near the cemetery gate. Its knees are bent as in prayer, its eyes closed.

Ireland apologized to Joanne Hayes but Baby John never found his peace, Catherine believes. And without a fair investigation, he will never have that peace. She feels fairly sure the baby’s real mother still lives nearby.  She hopes that woman can one day come forward without shame or fear.

“Our community is still dealing with a dark secret of the past,” she says.

The only way to move forward, Catherine believes, is to absolve the mother.

Then, perhaps, Baby John will be able to finally rest.

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