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wingless-thrush · 1 year

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Impossibly Imperfect

(The following is an edited version of a personal blog originally posted on 10 May 2012.)

I lived in Asheville, North Carolina for a couple years while growing up, which is located in the mountainous western part of the state. Our neighborhood was perched on the side of Beaucatcher Mountain, and was comprised of a lot of hilly, windy streets. One particular neighborhood street was especially steep, with a sharp S-curve at the bottom of a long, straight hill. Just beyond the S-curve, the terrain dropped off dramatically into a rugged, wooded ravine. If the street had been a busier road, it would be one of those notorious stretches of highway that has a nickname like Death Hill or Blood Alley.

As it was, the street didn’t have very many houses on it and was lightly traveled by cars, so it became a favorite spot for us to play. I’d pull my red Radio Flyer wagon to the top of the hill, climb on board, and then ride at top speed down the hill, with the wind blowing in my face. The feeling of flying downhill was as ecstatic as the first big drop on a roller coaster, but was tempered with the very real danger of missing the curve, flying off the pavement, and ending up broken and bloodied at the bottom of the ravine.

The memory of flying down that hill in a Radio Flyer wagon at high speed, with a near-certain bloody and painful death at the bottom of the hill rapidly getting closer, has become somewhat of an unfortunate metaphor for my love life over the years. The whole realm of relationships and sexuality has been a very difficult one for me, and it’s not without a degree of hesitation that I write about it here. While I do a pretty good job at maintaining close friendships with quite a few attractive women, things always seem to fall apart whenever there’s a hint of romantic feelings involved.

Part of it may have to do with the uptight Calvinist background I grew up in, where sexuality was hardly ever discussed except in the context of there apparently being far too much of it on television and in popular culture. And then there’s the fact that I was sexually abused as a child, by an older neighborhood kid who promised to allow me into his “club” if I performed certain acts down in the woods behind the house. Somehow my membership card to his secret club must have repeatedly gotten lost in the mail, because I kept having to go through the initiation process over and over again.

I'm also mildly autistic with some related mental health issues like anxiety and depression, and that no doubt plays a big role as well, even though I never knew I was on the spectrum until I was well into adulthood. Nowadays I can do a pretty good job of pretending I’m at least somewhat normal, but as a kid I was clueless. Nobody really had a name for my condition at that time; I just assumed I was a weird misfit due to some horrible character defect on my part. While my classmates were playing with their Transformers or G.I. Joe action figures, I was usually off in the corner sketching pictures of bridges and spaceships. A few years later when they were having their first sexual experiences, I was still sketching (slightly more refined) pictures of bridges and spaceships. It’s not that I didn’t have sexual feelings or wasn’t incredibly attracted to certain girls at school; it’s just that I was too chickenshit to actually act on those feelings. My classmates assumed I was gay or asexual, and bullied the living shit out of me accordingly. During bus rides home in 5th grade, a few of the popular kids would corner me in the back of the school bus and ask me invasive questions about my sexuality. If they didn’t like my answer, one of them would give me a swift punch in the stomach.

As you might imagine, relationships and sexuality – things that, in an ideal world, should be sources of joy and happiness for those involved – had come to be strongly associated with feelings of guilt, shame, rejection, and violence in my mind. When you crash the Radio Flyer wagon into the ravine too many times, you start to dread the idea of hauling it back up the hill for another ride.

Fast-forward to this past week, when a random bit of news during my workday brought back vivid memories of a time when I flew down that metaphorical hill way too fast, and ended up crashing into the ravine in a most spectacular manner.

As it turns out, a former crush of mine is getting married on Saturday, and not to me. You’d think I’d be over it after almost a decade, but this one really stung. For a few months in late 2002 and early 2003, “Jennifer” and I had developed what I considered a pretty deep long-distance relationship, which culminated in her flying to Philadelphia and meeting up with me during her spring break.

I’ve always had a pretty specific picture in my head of what my ideal partner is like, and it was uncanny just how close she came to that mental image, in a number of important ways: her intelligence, her emotional maturity, her overall great looks, and so forth. Nobody else before or since then has come quite so close to my idealized version of Miss Right. I was much more religious back then than I am now, and I was convinced she was the gift from God that I had been praying for almost my entire life.

I’ve always been drawn to the unique and unusual. In a neighborhood full of bland McMansions, I’m the guy who would buy something like the Mushroom House. Whenever I’d get a handful of candy corn around Halloween, I’d always pick out the mutant pieces and eat them first, because they were special and stood out from the others. I was somehow convinced this made them taste better.

Likewise, for as long as I can remember I’ve been fascinated by and found beauty in people with certain unique physical characteristics – even something as relatively minor as having a pair of webbed toes – but particularly with people who are missing one or more limbs, either by birth or through circumstances later in life. Jennifer wasn’t the first amputee I’d felt romantic feelings toward, and she likely won’t be the last. The first crush I ever had was toward Carol Johnston, a gymnast who was born without part of her right arm. Her story was the subject of a Disney film I saw on TV while growing up, and I was enthralled with the shape and movement of her partial arm, which ended with a small, round stump just below her elbow. (Carol is almost old enough to be my mother, but she appeared much closer to my age in the film, which had been produced a number of years before I saw it.) Jennifer was completely armless, not unlike Simona Atzori, an Italian artist and dancer who was also born without arms. No stumps or even scars, just perfectly smooth shoulders where a pair of arms would normally begin. Her use of her feet for daily tasks was as fluid and natural as most people’s use of their hands. I’d gladly pick somebody like her over any number of plastic-looking supermodels.

There’s a lot more to it than just the physical attraction, though. What I find equally appealing is the fact that people like Jennifer have a unique story to tell, that they know what it’s like to be different and to overcome obstacles. My favorite people in the world are those who strive to overcome life’s challenges with grace and humor, and who embrace their own uniqueness. This might be the one element that all my closest friends have in common, regardless of how many limbs they have.

An army of therapists could spend countless hours speculating on all the reasons why I have these feelings, and still not come up with a satisfactory answer. I wouldn’t really call it a fetish, although sexual attraction is certainly one part of it. I’ve always felt different throughout my life, and I think maybe I find a kindred spirit in somebody who is as different on the outside as I am on the inside, and who has spent a lifetime overcoming obstacles and dealing with other people’s stares and clueless comments, as well as more mundane things like a lack of wheelchair ramps or doorknobs that are difficult to grasp. To be clear, the attraction has nothing at all to do with any hardship or suffering that comes with being an amputee. I’ve had a few close friends over the years who are amputees, and I wouldn’t wish those phantom pains, ongoing medical issues, or the cost of a prosthetic limb on anybody.

As you might imagine, being attracted to amputees brings forth a lot of conflicted feelings that include heavy doses of shame and guilt. Pop culture values physical perfection to an obscene level, and people don’t like to be reminded that they might someday lose a leg in a car accident, or give birth to a child that has less than ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. Veterans who lose limbs in combat are either swept under the rug and ignored by the people who sent them into combat in the first place, or are maybe put onto a pedestal and briefly worshipped as folk heros – but never portrayed as the guy next door who lost his legs and a couple of close friends to a roadside bomb, and who still has nightmares about it. But I didn’t choose to have this attraction any more than Jennifer chose to be born without arms, and I reject the notion that I should beat myself up over an aspect of my psyche that I never willingly signed up for.

Soon after high school, my family got a computer, and I was introduced to this new thing called the Internet for the first time. After dialing in to AOL and doing a couple of creative searches (I’m really dating myself here), I soon discovered that I’m not the only person who has this attraction; people like me are typically referred to as devotees within the community. (The phenomenon also has a very dry technical term: Acrotomophilia.) Personally, I find the terminology inadequate – the term admirer has also been tossed around, which I find more apt – but for better or worse, devotee seems to be the accepted label.

How do amputees typically feel about this attraction? Opinions vary widely. Some find it very flattering and liberating; a common sentiment is that it’s nice to be seen as an attractive woman with no caveats, as opposed to being seen as attractive despite a disability. Others find it extremely repulsive and threatening, feeling that devotees are getting their jollies from what for many amputees is the most painful and traumatic episode of their lives. Most amputees’ feelings probably fall somewhere between those two extremes, perhaps accepting of the attraction despite some reservations. As a gross generalization, my experience is that amputees who were born that way tend to be more accepting of the attraction than those who lost a limb later in life due to trauma or disease. It’s a very controversial issue within online support groups and other amputee-related communities, with very passionate feelings on all sides of the issue. The purpose of this post isn’t to change anybody’s mind about it, but to simply articulate my own feelings.

Back in the 90’s there used to be a small online community of devotees and devotee-friendly amputees, mostly on IRC and an email listserv. There were even occasional real-life gatherings, and a number of marriages have come from those meetings. With a fairly intimate community it was easier to keep the predatory elements away, of which there are unfortunately quite a few. In the amputee-devotee subculture, the bad apples usually consist of guys who get off on some sort of power trip by being with somebody they perceive as helpless, or people who live out their fantasies by pretending to be amputees online.

Unfortunately, with the explosion in social media such as MySpace and then Facebook over the past few years, what used to be a fairly tight-knit and self-policing internet subculture has become a free-for-all, with some devotees pursuing amputees with all the grace and chivalry of the Nazgûl pursuing the One Ring, and ruining it for those who have better social skills and more honest intentions. There are still some vestiges of the old community left, but it’s a pretty small and isolated group with relatively little in the way of new blood.

I know of a number of amputee/devotee couples who couldn’t be happier. I also know of devotees who have gone their entire lives without finding their ideal partner to settle down with, and I know of others who ultimately married non-amputees only to find themselves depressed and frustrated, and their marriages failing. As for myself, it certainly makes things difficult because my ideal dating pool is a tiny fraction of the general population. I can go months or years at a time before seeing an attractive female amputee out in public, and the whole online scene is a crapshoot. On the rare occasion I see an attractive amputee out in public and I fail to make any kind of meaningful contact with her (which is almost always the case – I universally err on the side of keeping a respectful distance and doing nothing, rather than annoying her with any awkward advances), it can haunt me for months or years after the fact.

Mind you, I’m still very attracted to able-bodied women as well. The longest relationship I’ve had so far was with somebody who wasn’t an amputee, and I don’t regret a minute of it. But in looking for a long-term relationship or marriage, I face a bit of a dilemma. When I was in that relationship, there was always a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I wasn’t being true to my feelings and that I was “settling” for something that was less than my ideal, and I was overcome with feelings of guilt. I didn’t feel like I was being fair to either her or myself. Nobody likes to be told they’re a second choice.

Jennifer seemed flattered by my unusual form of attention, and I was thrilled with the idea that after so much longing and searching, I had finally found somebody to share my life with. But the day after she arrived in town and we first met face-to-face, she called me up at work just a couple hours before we were supposed to meet again, and slammed the brakes on any notion of a relationship. She never did give a clear reason, but seemed to imply that she wasn’t ready for a relationship and that the chemistry didn’t feel right.

On one level it was understandable, as there was a pretty significant age difference between us, we had different backgrounds and ambitions, and lived a couple thousand miles apart. At that moment on the phone, though, I felt like a bomb had just been detonated within my already-fragile psyche. I blame myself for getting my hopes up too high in the first place, but that euphoric feeling of being head-over-heels in love was incredible while it lasted. For a brief few weeks, I felt like I was racing downhill in that Radio Flyer wagon, and the S-curve and ravine were no longer a threat. I haven’t experienced anything like it since then, and part of me wonders if I ever will.

She said she wanted to remain friends, and held out the idea that maybe sometime in the future, things might work out between us. But it never happened. The phone calls and online chats became less frequent, and then stopped altogether. My greetings went unanswered, and after a lot of heartbreak and depression on my part, I eventually moved on. She became somewhat of a minor media celebrity with her motivational speaking gigs and other accomplishments, and I continued quietly making slow but steady progress toward my academic and professional goals.

I had pretty much put that episode out of my mind until now, but learning that she’s getting married this week brought it all back. In all honesty, I wish her the best, and with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, I can now look back and see about a million reasons why things never would have worked out between us. As painful as it was for me, she probably did the right thing by breaking it off sooner rather than later.

So now I’m spilling my guts here, mainly just to get it off my chest and hopefully gain some catharsis, but also to shed some insight into an aspect of my life that, until now, I’ve kept pretty private. No doubt some parts of this blog entry dove pretty far into TMI territory for some, but I’m hoping the benefits outweigh any negative blowback. A few of my closest friends already know about this side of me, and seem generally accepting of it, even if it’s impossible for them to fully understand it.

One of my resolutions for the new year was to try and let go of some emotional baggage that I’ve been carrying around my neck like an albatross, and this is part of that process. With people all over the country being denied equal rights and bullied to the point of suicide because of who they love, it seems hypocritical for me to champion their rights while keeping my own sexual proclivities safely tucked away in the closet, out of danger. Maybe some good will come of this blog post, and there may be some negative consequences as well. But I think I’ve reached the point where I’m finally willing to stop living in fear of the what-if scenarios, and to let the chips fall where they may.

#amputee #congenital amputee #armless #limb difference #devotee #acrotomophilia #relationships

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moochio7 · 9 months

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can we get more coach content ?? :D

teared up seeing this in my inbox /pos

get ready for way too many words...

I never had any ocs that stuck around before making coach for the stupidest crack fic with my friends,, so idrk how this is supposed to work but whatever. He isn't a very nuanced character yet, but he'll get there eventually.

on the google doc for planning False-hearted (the insane crack fic) this is what was written for coach a while back

"Coach: (deals with some behind the scene shit and plans “plays” to do in battle) {Boss Man} He plans plays for battle but also is in battle observing and making plans on the spot- like we all have radios and hes armed creepin around being like oooooo we got an abandoned sentry ill get that which opens up a space for someone else to come in and yada yada u get the idea (long story short i'm specifying that he gets a gun and gets to be in battle cause teehee silly) YOOOO HE CAN LIKE TRAIN THE MERCS N SHIT BY ANALYSIZING THEIR SKILLS IN BATTLE AND SEEING WHAT TGET CAN WORK OJ AND RAAGGHH cuz they got that training gym area right? coach the personal trainer lol"

Also have I mentioned its a self-insert? I think I may have just said oc but no yeah this guy is just me.

in terms of who this guy is, he gets along well with pretty much everyone, bullies scout like a brother a lot tho. no hard feelings ofc. since a very young age he had a lot of pressure and responsibility dropped on him, so while he is immature and messing around sometimes, he is wary of being too obnoxious, is never vulnerable with others, and puts up this false rigid cool leader guy persona. For now at least.

He may not talk to others about his emotions or whats going on with him, but he doesnt just bottle it up and never think about it. Hes got an over analytical brain and has looked into every single thing hes ever done or said and seems to truly understand so very much about himself. Hes knows the issues he has but cant bring himself to fix them because that takes being vulnerable and brave. Some things he cant be. He appears brave to others in your typical "do whatever it takes to help others and jump into action without worry" way tho.

In terms of backstory and what growing up was like? I havent decided yet lol

theres some older posts on my page under the false-hearted tag to (maybe???) give you more context of the strange world this guy is in.

heres pretty much every time ive drawn coach 👍👍im still working on figuring out his exact features so theyre pretty inconsistent.

quick sketch n colour

this one is inspired but an amazing song "La guerra di Piero" by Fabrizio De André

another sketch, and some images i cooked up for sending as reaction images to friends. (Coach brutally killing Blu scout with scouts own bat, and then coach being the innocent kid he is)

#ty so so so much for asking this #and sorry if this makes no sense #i mean he was created to be a character in smth that makes no sense sooo #tf2 #false-hearted #moochiposts #my art

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randomquietkid · 2 years

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"Surfboards and Sketchbooks" pt2

(If you haven't read part one of surfboards and sketchbooks please read it before you can find it on my page. Sorry I don't have a masterlist with all my fics yet, I can't figure out how to change the name on the links and I don't have that many posted. This part accidentally kinda turned into an all about me so you get to learn a little about me. If you want me to change some of the things because it is too personal and isn't varied enough I can totally do that. I'm pretty sure I'll be doing another part and I know what it will basically be talking about but I don't know what will happen so who knows I might have a fourth part too. I do think this part was a little all over the place and I don't like it as much as the first part so sorry If it disappointed some of y'all cause I think I could have done better.If you enjoy don't be afraid to send in requests there is a pinned post on my page of all the characters I would write about)

Trigger warnings: none. Probably cursing

Enjoy <3

Y/n POV:

I walked into school with my music blasting in my ears. I was listening to Alec Benjamin. As I looked around I saw that pretty much everyone looked the same. Tan, blond or brown haired, and a Summer wardrobe. Me on the other hand pale, brown hair and graphic tees, flannel and ripped jeans (I put what I would wear just because it was easier to write but I will change it if any of you would like. Kinda like a description of what I look like though ;) stood out from the crowd. My phone was laying on top of my sketchbook and book (right now I'm reading the Good Girl Complex but you can choose whatever you want) with my wire earbuds out the charger plug. I walked into the office to get my schedule from the front desk lady and saw the guy that I drew at the beach walk out. "JJ not even into first period and your already here" the Lady at the front desk said as she walked back from the printer with my schedule. "Yep. Sorry Mrs. B" he said "Y/n Y/l/n,here's your schedule dear. Have a great first day" she said as she handed me my schedule "thank you" I replied and walked out the office. 𝘑𝘑 was his name. As I made my way to first period from the office I saw JJ look at me walking away. Did he recognize me too, I really hope not.

First period was Social Study's. It was boring. I get the whole "don't want to repeat history" thing but if this generation did anything for history it would be either burn the world down or get so bad that people leave it, probably both. As I drowned out the teacher and started drawing in my sketchbook I heard shuffling next to me and saw 𝗝𝗝 sit in the desk next to me. Fuck. "Well I didn't want to jump right into work so I want everyone to fill out this get to know me worksheet" the teacher explained and many annoyed groans and complaints were verbalized but I just rolled my eyes. What are we 10, my teachers have been giving us that same worksheet since 1st grade. JJ passed me the sheet with a smile and leaned over to whisper " Have you also been doing this sheet on the first day of school for forever" he questioned with a small laugh "yep. Pretty sure they don't even read them just throw them away, basically gives them a free day" I said telling him my theory. He laughed "makes sense. I would" I nodded in agreement. " this may seem weird but, were you the one to sketch me at the beach two weeks ago" JJ asked. Shit he knows. " umm yeah. I'm sorry about my friends" I said apologizing for whatever they did. " don't worry about it, you have real talent. It was amazing"." why thank you" I smiled back at him as I felt my face heat up. Our conversation ended with both of us smiling as I looked at the sheet and saw the same questions as last year. 'What is your favorite food' *favorite food* 'what is your favorite music to listen to' *favorite music* (character playlists. Very hard to choose. Theres sooo many good artists) 'what do you like to do in your free time' *what you like to do* (for character purpose y/n will like drawing/painting and reading) 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔. 'Your favorite show' *your favorite show* 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑙𝑓, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒/ 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒, 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑜𝑛 (I have an unhealthy obsession with sharks thanks to my sister making me watch jaws at the age of six and then i had a really weird dream that got over my fear of sharks) 'favorite movie' 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑙 𝑚𝑐𝑢 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑒, 𝑗𝑎𝑤𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑔, 𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑝𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑧𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟 'favorite summer memory' 𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑜𝑥𝑒𝑠 *what you did* (I did go to a concert and a lot of book stores but summer isn't over yet where I'm from) 'favorite color' 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 * your favorite color* (black or greens) 'do you have any pets' 𝑛𝑜 *your pets if you have any* (I kinda forgot what else were on those sheets so that's all and I have two dogs) 'dinggggg' finally class was over. "As you get ready to leave put your papers on my dest, I can't wait to read them" our teacher said. Me and JJ gave each other a look and both laughed a little as I bet he thought about what I said earlier. I got up and put the paper on the teachers desk and left the classroom. As I put my earbuds back in and pulled out my schedule to see where I was supposed to be next I felt a someone tap my shoulder. I turned around and saw JJ behind me playing with his rings and his friends by the staircase doing a horrible job at trying not to watch whatever was about to happen. "Hi" "hi" "umm so I was wondering if you want to sit with me and my friends at lunch" he asked "yeah I would love to" "awesome" I laughed a little and he smiled "what's your next class so I know where to pick you up from" he asked "wow such a gentleman, umm I have *blah blah blah*" he smiled and said "really, me too. Well actually all of my friends and me do" "that's great. Do you mind walking me I have no idea where I'm going" I asked as I put

My schedule in my back pocket. "Yep no problem" he said leading me to his friends. "Y/n this is John B, Pope and Kiara" JJ said as he introduced his friends "hi" I said and they all waved. "Y/n has the same class as us next and she doesn't know where to go so she's walking with us" he explained to his friends and the nodded and started leading the way. I got a little distracted when my earbuds got tangled in the swirl of my sketchbook as I tried to untangle them I heard John B ask JJ "sooo definitely don't have a crush on her" not convinced. I heard him wince because JJ elbowed him in the ribs "shup up. And I don't know but shut the fuck up I don't want her to hear you" JJ said. I laughed a little at his antics. When we got into *blah blah blah* classroom JJ and his friends sat towards the back, as the sat down I almost sat in a seat towards the side of the classroom with the door but JJ patted the seat next to me implying me to sit there. I gave him a 'are you sure' look and he nodded. "You sure" I asked again once I sat down. "Positive" he replied smiling.

As the teacher went on about some of the class rules and units and shit I started drawing a little alien dude in the corner of my sketchbook as I felt a piece of paper hit my hand. I looked over and saw a crumbled up piece of paper on my desk and I saw a smirking JJ next to me. I opened it to read it and it said "go on a date with me Saturday" with two boxes below one with yes one with no. I could feel my cheeks heat up as I read that. I checked the yes box and gave it back to JJ. I looked over at him to see his reaction, he had smiled really big. That made me smile. So we were just some idiots smiling in the back of the classroom as the teacher explained rules. But I didn't care, even though i don't know the kid I'm freaking out about our 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 Saturday.

#jj x reader #JJ #obx jj x reader #obx netflix #obx fic #maybank #jj fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #made by myself #part 2 #Surfboards and sketchbooks #Surfboards and sketchbooks pt2

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livewireprojects · 24 days

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Scourge(scrapped from Lost Prince AU)

Decided I may as well post this cause why not & since I'm not adding him in I'll just ramble some. But yeah I originally had Scourge & Zonic to be in my Lost Prince AU but scrapped things cause I wasn't sure at points how to implement Zonic & I wasn't sure about Scourge.(I'm not adding Surge, Kit & Starline but might draw Surge & Kit at some point)

Here's a sketch I made, I find it a little funny that I give Sonic a crop top tank with a crop top sleeveless hoodie but I just let Scourge be shirtless with his biker jacket

The original idea was going to be in Lost Prince AU Scourge would show up at some point when Sonic is traveling with Sonia & Manic as Anti-Sonic. Stuff happens(like Anti-Sonic getting Sonic in trouble) & while Sonic tries to keep things to himself cause he's mostly on his own for this stuff Manic manages to figure thigns out. In the end the three fix things & manage to get Anti-Sonic back to his dimension.

That's the last they hear of him until he comes back when Sonic is modern Sonic & is now Scourge. Stuff happens & eventually he ends up arrested via Zonic. The next & last time he's heard from he's teaming up with Zobotnik to cause chaos at the prison when Zonic & his team are bringing Shadow & Rouge to take Mephiles back to Shadow, Rouge & Mephiles's dimension cause he's being let out on good behavior.(Eggman led to him getting arrested)

While I had some idea what I was going to do I don't know how to put things together. I have an idea outline wise but don't have a plot setup for every specific bit.(Like plotline for my remake of Sonic Underground, plotline of working on Sonic X & stuff)

Another thing is that while Scourge showed up in Sonic Underground it was by luck that his dimension showed up at that time. For one reason or another he doesn't have what Sonic does that led to Sonic showing up 4 decades later in Lost Prince AU. Scourge is just a normal Sonic(as normal as he can get) so the next time he shows up it's only been a couple years instead of 4 decades when he shows up. I'm having trouble explaining stuff but I'm just trying to explain it's a weird coincidence he showed up in Sonic Underground & his dimension's time does not pass slowly.

Speaking of normal he also doesn't have a Sonic Underground so it's just a more "normal" Sonic with a bad past that made him be anti-Sonic instead of a missing prince.(I'm aware I'm likely just rambling to myself about shit that possibly makes no sense)

I've seen some fics that make me think it'd be interesting to see him go from villain to kind of neutral & is that asshole friend that while he hates it seems to be a good listener when needed & is slowly accepting while he wants to be a bad boy he's happier now & should probably never return to his dimension

Not all villains can be changed(ironic as I have stuff setup for Mephiles & Infinite) but fics make things interesting sometimes.

Update

lol I checked the description from DA & found some funny stuff to add.

"Got the moves like an jackass" -Title on DA

Description copied from DA:

Hey look a masculine Sonic, too bad it's Scourge(I swear out of all of these he's like the only Sonic that isn't a robot that I draw as a top) Scourge was once known as evil/anti Sonic, at some point he found himself in Sonic's world & caused some havoc before Sonic stopped him. Years later they meet again, to bad thanks to Jules Sonic doesn't remember & Scourge wasn't prepared for Sonic to seize up due to remembering. It's unknown how Scourge could meet Sonic in the modern day as they met while Sonic was with his siblings & Scourge isn't immortal. Currently Scourge is in prison in Zonic's world.

#my art #sonic the hedgehog #scourge the hedgehog #lost prince au

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its-real · 3 years

Text

I was going to wait until I had finished doing all the concept sketches for this but uh, I’m lazy so here take it as it is I’ll keep adding surely surely.

-LONG POST-

AU where the hermits fall into the boatem hole with no way to fly out because of some event that happens - maybe an apocalypse, maybe everyone just goes apeshit, who knows - and they all get messed up heads from falling in the void and passing out n fun stuff like that. They ‘land’ - idk how this would work without them dying lol - in a semi futuristic city which for now let’s just call it Boateqm (silent q). The hermit crabs would also fall at different rates therefore appear in the city at different times. So where do they end up?

Hospital gang:

Etho wakes up in a hospital bed with no memories - most of them will wake up with no memories btw - his doctor/nurse (this hospital may be understaffed) Tango asks him a bunch of questions then has to go see another patient. Etho is seen by a certain Bdubs who had just finished visiting his buddy Scar -will get to him next- in the bed next door. Bdubs walks back to notify Scar, a fashion designer, that the guy in the bed across would make a great model, just look at the striking hair! And the red eye! He opens the curtains on the side and Scar gets a look. He asks if Etho would like to be hired. Etho is to say the least very confused and on the verge of a panic attack that never quite seems to happen so he’s in a weird kind of limbo anyway it is now that his doctor/nurse Tango comes back and having overheard the conversation suggests it would be a good idea. The hospital can only take custody of Etho for so long, might as well start earning money now so he doesn’t become homeless. Etho is still very confused. So Tango just agrees to the job for him as his caretaker lol, and besides Scar comes here kinda often so Tango trusts him. Anyway Etho’s true passions he discovers are synthesisers, breeding horses with Bdubs and finding elaborate ways to do tax evasion. A simple man.

Scar is in the hospital because he got SCAR (hehe) from walking into a glass door in his super fancy house, which he owns because he’s a super fucking rich fashion designer of his own label Scara (this is not the first time he’s walked into a glass door). Scar refuses to go to a rich people hospital tho cause 1) he cares about healthcare and wants more funds to go to lower grade hospitals 2) Tango is his mate, and needs a goddam raise. But yeah, very successful, ran for mayor once but someone really didn’t like that which resulted in another hospital visit. Mans in the wars. One hospital visit he got really inspired by the fabric and stuff there so he had a line of clothes that were hospital inspired one time, in turn making hospital inspired garb very trendy for a bit. What a mad lad. Ideas man. Some would call him a genius if he didn’t keep on walking into glass doors n shit. Scar woke up in the back room of a small tailoring shop owned by a nice old couple who took him under their wing. He thanks them in every award speech, and whenever he’s in the area make sure to stop by and give them presents. His side hobby is gardening.

When Tango came to, he was lying on the footpath of a quiet street in the suburbs just out from the main city. Gorgeous day, golden hour, pretty houses, very aesthetic. He also had a leg injury, fuck. So Tango did what anyone would do: hobbled to the nearest house, asked in the nicest way he could under a lot of stress (so he kinda yelled) for a first aid kit, and performed surgery on himself atop the nice families dinner table. The nice family turned out to have called the police and an ambulance, who showed up just as Tango was wrapping up his leg with a bandage and took him away to the police on a stretcher. This debacle got him a leading story on the local newspaper: ‘Man performs surgery on himself after waking up with no memories and a leg injury’. After being questioned by the police, they decide they can’t really charge someone with amnesia and no money with anything like breaking and entering (he did knock and they did let him in) or property damage (blood on the carpet). The paramedics are stunned at his surgery, so they tell the police to take him to the nearest hospital and get him hired there, he could save so many lives. He gets hired by the head doctor after an examination of the surgery. The head doctor doesn’t really care that Tango doesn’t have any records or anything, the hospital is understaffed and Tango seems like an Angel sent down from the heavens to him. Tango is very very good at his job. So good that he gets offered a job at a far better paying hospital which he takes, then soon drops because he prefers the chaos of his old job much better.

Tango found Impulse extremely dehydrated, looking like death, wandering outside his flat one night, so he carried the man inside and saved his life. Now they are flat mates, and Impulse works in a tech store - an upgrade from working at a service station previously.

Bdubs woke up in an inner city park at night, homeless, broke, and in the company of other homeless and broke people. He built his way to success, got luckily hired by some rich asshole to mow their lawns plural - the rich asshole didn’t ask much questions, he just saw a poor man criticising the way a park had been landscaped to an old guy in a caravan and though it was good enough, seeing as the last one quit - and Bdubs didn’t mind too much, because the rich assholes property was really gorgeous. Once Bdubs was able to say he had work experience and wasn’t homeless he started babysitting the kids in the neighbourhood, pretty good money. Plus the kids love him, and everyone he meets loves him, he's just a nice guy. He met Scar because he had to purchase a suit for a kids birthday party, so he went to the cute little tailors shop he always walked past on the way to his favourite cute little gardening supplies shop. By now Bdubs had been promoted to part time gardener - the job is shared - and started working on and off at a building firm. They become besties, turns out Scar is also really into gardening etc etc. Eventually Bdubs becomes an architect, mainly designing for city contractors n such but occasionally designer homes, like the one he did for Scar.

Mumbo and Grian wake up in the hospital around the same time that Etho is still there, however Etho has been awake longer, and should really find a place to stay soon now that he’s got a steady job. Since - ok plot point here - the two are in the exact situation that Etho found himself in, he starts to feel like something weird is going on. Mumbo and Grian take a lot longer to recover than Etho did, and the two become hospital bed neighbor buddies. When they finally recover Scar offers them a temporary place to stay at his house while they find work. Tango gets Impulse to put in a good word for Mumbo at his work.

Nomads:

TFC is an old man who lives in a caravan off the money he made being a very successful miner, he now collects pretty shiny rocks and gems and stuff to give to kids. He’s like an all year round caravan Santa and wise old mystical figure. Dope.

Joe is a humble man who likes to wander. He’s never had a home, but if he needs anything he’ll go to TFC’s caravan or a homeless shelter or something. But he isn’t sad or anything, he really likes the freedom of being a simple wanderer.

Others:

Keralis is a business partner of Bdubs. Kerlalis is mega stonks. He was one of the first to land, had a big diamond in his pocket, bought shares in a company that blew up soon after and now he is really fucking rich.

Doc and Ren are the only ones who remember anything, and they arrive at the same time. Doc manages to keep his cool, but Ren loses his shit and gets thrown in a mental institution. Doc spends some time trying to get Ren out, and after a final success and laying low for a bit the two seek to bring all the hermits together.

Pearl ends up working in Bdubs building company.

Beef works in a music shop -sells records and instruments- and he starts up a record label out back after his boss retires and passes the shop onto him.

And yeah I don’t really know the other Hermits that well was hoping some of ya’ll could help me find places for them in this city :) don’t really know how to format this either so maybe some input would be nice, just wanted to get the idea out hehehe

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mrs-hilmarson · 3 years

Text

Ocean Eyes (Part 1)

Pairing: Tammy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Taglist: @peggycarter-steverogers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow

A/n: Hey guys. Sorry for the wait. Life has been so busy as I just became a certified therapist and just life stuff in general. This is just going to be a mini fic for fun while I work on writing my next big one- which will be for Cordelia! Literally nothing like Run to Me, so I hope you don’t find it disappointing. Just a little filler while I work out the plot for my next story!

You pulled out your phone, checking the time. 1:53 PM. Your interview was at 2 o'clock and if you didn't figure out where you were quickly, you were going to be late. You walked faster, panic dialing your best friend who had gotten you the interview.

"Hello?" the sweet voice chimed on the other end.

"Sarah! Help! I'm lost," you pleaded, looking at the address on the piece of paper in your hand and trying to match it to the towering houses around you.

"How did you get lost? I gave you the exact address. Did the driver put it in wrong?"

"No. I made the Uber drop me off at the entrance to the neighborhood because his car looked super sketch and I didn't want the mom to see me step out of a car that looks like it was used in a 70's porn film. I started walking and I got lost."

You heard Sarah shuffling around in the background, and what sounded like the tapping of keys.

"Okay, give me the address for the closest house," she said. Your best friend was a life saver.

"Uhhh... 768 Elm Street," you told her, trying not to look suspicious in this wealthy neighborhood.

"Hmmm. Okay you're literally two streets over. If you go to the end of this street, take a right and walk less than two blocks. You'll make it to maple from there. You somehow managed to be right behind her house. It will take you about ten minutes."

Shit.

"No! There has got to be a quicker way! I am going to be late!" You whined, stomping your feet on the sidewalk in frustration.

"Yeah, Tammy is not going to like that. She is very patient but she's got three kids so she really only has enough patience for them. Well wait, hang on a second."

"What? Did you find a quicker route?"

"Sorta. You should have just stayed in the Uber."

"Sarah I did not want to pull up like Will Smith from the Fresh Prince of Belaire, now spit it out already!"

"Well that house you are standing in front of? Technically if you could find a way into their backyard and through the trees... you could get to Tammy's house in half the time."

You looked at the house in front of you. It looked more like a post office than a home. Large marble columns, real gas lamps framing a shiny oak door, and a second floor balcony that seemed larger than Sarah's whole apartment. This is not the type of property you just meandered around on, but this job was also not the type of opportunity you just let slip away by being two minutes late.

You walked a little to the side of the house, and there you found your favorite thing of the whole house: A gate to the backyard.

"I'm gonna do it," you say to Sarah, who had been quiet this entire time.

There was more silence, before you heard your best friend draw in a breath.

"Don't get arrested please. Call me when you're done, or in lock up. Either way, be safe."

Sarah had always been someone who just supported and loved you no matter what. Whether it was moving on a whim to another city and crashing on her couch indefinitely or trespassing through a rich family's yard to get the job that would help you get started on your dreams. She was that type of friend and you loved her for it.

You didn't even say goodbye as you hung up and checked the time again. 1:55 PM mocked you on the screen. You shoved the phone in your pocket before quickly looking around. No one was out and about thankfully probably due to the heat picking up, so you walked briskly over to the gate.

You said a prayer and begged the universe to be kind to you under your breath as you forced yourself to find the courage and flung open the lock to the gate, letting it swing open. You looked around the yard really quickly to find it empty as well. Maybe this wouldn't be hard at all.

You closed the gate behind you and you quickly jogged into the yard. There was a picnic table close to the other side of the fence and you would be able to hop right over! You breathed a sigh of relief because everything was going to plan, until the dog.

A ear piecing yap began sounding through the yard like an obnoxious security alarm. You turned and saw that the back of the home was basically one big window and there inside was the ugliest looking purse dog you had ever seen, notifying every living creature with working ears within a mile of your presence.

You watched horrified as the owner of said ugly dog appeared in the view of the window like some horror movie on a tv screen. An older woman, dressed as if she had been in the middle of a workout, was also now yapping at you angrily and making her way to her giant window wall.

Your feet started moving before you realized what was happening and you bolted to the back of the yard and onto the picnic table, jumping and throwing one of your legs over the fence. The little old woman made it to a sliding glass door, releasing her dog and profanities towards you.

The dog tore across the lawn, but thankfully was no actual threat. You looked at the woman as you threw your other leg over the fence.

"I'm not a criminal! I'm sorry! I just got lost on the way to a job interview. You have a nice home!" you yelled, trying to prove to this stranger you were not bad, just had poor execution of your ideas. You dropped over the other side of the fence and into the wooded area behind the home, running as fast as your feet could carry you from the angry woman and her angrier dog.

It only took you about a minute of running full force to make it to another fence, a fence you were praying was Tammy's. You ran around the length of it, following it to the front of the house. You shakily pulled out the paper from your pocket and checked the address. You had made it. This was the house. You laughed, more relieved than anything, and jogged to the front door.

You knocked and weren't even able to take a full breath before the door opened.

There before you stood the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. Her hair was the color of sand on the beaches of heaven its self and her eyes looked like brownies fresh from the over, and you had the strange thought of wanting to burn your mouth on them.

Y/n, that's weird. Stop it.

You stared at her, trying not to look to heavily at her gorgeous smile at the fear she may think you were looking at her lips. Even though you kind of were. You forced yourself to smile back.

"You must be Y/n," she said, looking at her watch, "and you are right on time. Let it be known I find that super attractive."

You chuckle nervously, unable to process a coherent thought. You really just hoped she couldn't tell you had just ran through the woods to stand stupid on her doorstep. Thankfully it didn't seem like she did and stepped aside, letting you in.

The home was gorgeous and lavish, but also homey and seemed lived in. You could hear the distant laughter of children somewhere in the house and portraits of what you could only assume were those children hung on the walls. You did notice though that there was a lack of family portraits probably due to the husband no longer being in the picture.

Sarah had filled you in a little bit about the family situation. She had worked with them over the summer and was working for them when they filed for divorce. Supposedly neither of them seemed upset by it, but he had still decided to move into another town. Tammy supposedly worked a very busy job and with three rambunctious kids, help was needed. Sarah had helped them occasionally, but Tammy needed something more permanent and hopefully that's where you would come in.

You followed Tammy into a big open kitchen and sat down with her at the kitchen table.

"Can I offer you some tea or water?" she said sweetly.

Even though you were parched from the mini marathon you had just ran, you politely declined. You pulled your resume out of your bag and put it on the table. Tammy reached over and took it, looking at it before smiling back up at you.

"I know Sarah said you had just moved here, so what brought you to town?" Tammy asked.

You hoped the look of confusion was not obvious on your face because you were expecting only questions about the job. You were unsure how useful you would be talking about yourself right now.

"Uh, well I came to town for a fresh start, and with Sarah here, it just seemed like the best place to restart."

"Running from something?" Tammy asked, putting down the resume and taking a sip of something in a mug that had been sitting on the table.

"N-no ma'am. Nothing illegal. I am not a criminal. I told the old lady the same thing," you stuttered.

Tammy raised her eyebrow at the last part, but you kept going to breeze over it hopefully.

"I just- I got my heartbroken and got kicked out of the apartment we shared. I didn't feel like I was making anything of my life where I was and I have such big dreams, but all I found there was pain and complacency, so I came here in hope to change that."

You voice sounded small and you ringed your hands in your lap, nervous that you may have said too much. Tammy's face softened even more somehow though and she smiled at you over the edge of her mug. She stared at you for a moment, her eyes seeming to sparkle. She nodded and looked down at your resume again.

"Well, you certainly have quite an impressive track record here. You seem like a kid expert. And because I already did a background check on you, I feel comfortable saying, if you would like the job its yours."

You sat there at the table, now not trying to hide the stunned look on your face. You had a harder time getting over the fence than getting employed by this woman.

"That's it? You don't need to ask me anything else? You're giving me the job?" you ask, stumbling over your words.

Tammy laughs and it feels like butterflies flutter in your belly. You like to make her laugh, but you aren't sure if she think's you're funny or stupid.

"With my life and my job, Y/n, the thing that is most important to me is being able to trust you. With my kids, my day to day life, and if I need your help with something. Trust and honesty go a long way with me, and you proved that with one question," she said, coming over to you with a glass of water.

You took it with a smile, forcing yourself to take a slow slip.

"Well, you can definitely trust me. And I'd be honored to by your nanny," you say, excitement and nervousness flowering inside your chest.

Tammy smiles sweetly at you.

"Consider yourself part of the family Y/n. Now you do know this is a live in position right? Sarah told you that?"

You nodded, that having been one of the main reasons you wanted the job. As much as you loved Sarah, you did not love sleeping on her couch. Being a live in nanny presented its own set of challenges, but it wouldn't be forever.

"Good. Can you move in today?"

You choked on your water, coughing and spitting it all over your shirt. Tammy laughed at you, and your cheeks burned red. Now you were embarrassed and Tammy sensed that.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to shock you. I just really need your help around here as soon as possible. And it would be better if you just came on in and got to know me and the kids since you're going to be a big part of our lives."

She handed you a paper towel, looking down at you with a comforting expression. Your cheeks burned red again, but not from embarrassment. You looked away and cleared your throat, unsure why you were so flustered.

"Sure. Yeah, no problem. I just need to run home and grab my clothes and things, but I don't have any furniture so-"

"Oh don't worry. You'll have the whole attic. Its renovated and fully furnished and you'll have your own bathroom. You don't need to worry about buying anything."

That was a relief. It would have taken you a while to afford those things.

You got up and walked with Tammy to the front door, her opening it for you.

"Thank you Ms. Tammy for hiring me, you will not regret it. I will take good care of your kids and make your life as easy as I possibly can," you say, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, attempting to look confident and wanting to ensure Tammy she had made the right choice.

She chuckled again, putting a little hole in that confidence, but it was quickly repaired when she wrapped her arms around you. It shocked you and you stood there, frozen for a second before hugging her back.

"I know you will. You're going to be a wonderful addition to our lives, all of our lives," she said. Her voice had a hint of something in it, making it seem like silk, but then you felt her pulling on your hair a bit and you felt like your legs may fall out from under you. Who was this woman?

Before you could assume anything further though, she pulled back and revealed she had taken a small branch with green leaves from your hair. You laughed nervously. Tammy cocked an eyebrow at you and smiled cheekily, holding it up.

"That is a funny story... I can explain that. I promise I bathe."

It was Tammy who laughed this time thankfully. She nodded and played with the branch in between her long, manicured fingers.

"That's alright. You can tell me about it tonight over drinks once you are home. I'd like to get to know you better while we get you settled."

Something about the way she said it made your breath catch in your throat. She smiled at you and you two said your goodbyes. You would text her when you were on the way back home. How strange that felt.

You sat in a much cleaner Uber on the way back to Sarah's, your head pressed against the glass. You couldn't stop thinking about Tammy and it seemed like you also couldn't wipe the smile from your face either. It seemed almost like a dream.

Just then, your phone buzzed and you were pulled from the thoughts of the woman to see that her name was on your screen. You quickly held the phone up to unlock it, suddenly overcome with the need of answering her at a moments notice. Thankfully it was not a message of her changing her mind.

Btw, just call me Tammy. Ms. Tammy is a little formal ;)

You smiled and bit your lip, quickly responding.

Okay, Tammy :)

#oceans 8 #tammy #tammy oceans 8 #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson fanfic #sarah paulson fic #mini fic

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vasiktomis · 3 years

Text

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

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shoichee · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I perhaps ask for no. 28. “Make me” from your prompt list for my beloved Imayoshi? It's so nice seeing him here on your theme and avatar and that pERFECT url, it feels like I finally found my people.

HELLO HELLO, and YES I WAS SO SURPRISED THAT NO ONE TOOK THIS URL... considering that it was just an alternative spelling of shoichi and its a rlly short handle too mwehe // im sort of a particular person when it comes to how something looks, whether itd be outfits, drawings, coloring, and the UI of a blog, u name it.... i may have spent hours trying to have the perfect colors for this theme PLEASEEEE, but without further ado here is our man, our little shit, Imayoshi

@knb-kreations howdy! another new work posted here!

Imayoshi x Reader

28. “Make me”

Word Count: 2331

prompt list here

»»—————　☼　—————««

Imayoshi doesn’t exactly know how he feels about you.

Scratch that, he does know. He’s quite amused at the shenanigans you pull on others around you, and a lot of times, you actually elicit a few dry laughs out of the guy. Other times though, he’d wish that you would just shut the fuck up, especially when all he hears amidst his studying was your loud “whispering” and “hushed” jokes. How you were always nearby no matter where he is was still a mystery that he casually ponders about from time to time. Perhaps your natural tendency to project your voice creates the illusion that you were near when you really weren’t?

No matter, such trivial thoughts can’t occupy his mind when college entrance exams loom closer. Then again, they weren’t particularly difficult; they were simply a hassle to secure near-perfect scores, especially when his chances of admittance rely critically on how well he does.

“That’s an awful drawing of a samurai,” Susa comments, snapping Imayoshi out of idle thought.

“Ho? Is it really terrible if you were able to tell what it is?” Imayoshi chuckles. “The point of a drawing is to convey the right idea or emotion. It seems that my drawing skills hit a bulls-eye with this sketch, no?” He playfully spins his pencil around, patiently waiting for his reply to goad him.

All Susa does in response is to roll his eyes before he turns his full attention back to his notes. He knows better than to try a comeback against Imayoshi, who can easily make it backfire against the person with a pleasant close-eyed smile. Imayoshi, seeing Susa’s nonverbal resign from engaging further banter, also looks down back to his book of scribbled notes and chicken-scratch drawings before he exhales an inaudible sigh.

School just doesn’t cut out to be mentally stimulating for him. It’s a little too repetitive and mundane for his taste.

“Argh!! Oh no!” your voice rang out, despite your poor attempt to be reasonably quiet. “I forgot applications for the Coca-Cola scholarship are due today!”

Coca-Cola… what?

Everyone looks up to warily eye you, and your few friends, who are currently rushing to pull you down and slap their hands over your mouth to mute you, were panicking at the new attention you managed to garner. Even still, your mind seems more fixated on whatever was on the laptop’s screen, rather than what they were doing to you.

Imayoshi can’t help but stifle his audible mirth from how you manage to change the mood of the entire library within seconds.

“How do you even forget something as important as a huge scholarship like that?” Susa says in dismay. “Makes me kind of wonder how (l/n) would handle life after graduation, to be honest.”

“Well,” Imayoshi begins. “I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s best not to underestimate (l/n)-san. Surely we’ve learned our lesson with Seirin?” He toys with the pencil grip before he sporadically draws some lines loosely resembling another sketch.

“Drawing again?” Susa raises a brow. “Have you even been studying?”

“Well,” he replies. “There’s still plenty of time before exams—months to be exact. Could you even study with the current distractions in here?” At his own words, he nudges his chin in your direction.

“It’s not just any exams though, it’s—”

“Whether they have more importance or not doesn’t really concern me. After all, standardized testing isn’t worth stressing out for when we’ve taken essentially the same thing all our lives.”

“What most are worried about is the content inside the exams, Imayoshi,” he said, carefully treading into dangerous waters with Imayoshi’s tendency to take all replies as mind-game challenges for his own amusement.

“‘If you have been paying attention consistently throughout the year, you wouldn’t be having much trouble…’ that’s what you once oh-so-wisely said to Wakamatsu yesterday, hmm?” His mimicking tone drips a hint of arrogance. “Unless you mean to tell me my ears do not work? But by all means, please feel free to correct me.”

“That’s different,” he sighed, his face clearly evident that he was done with Imayoshi’s shit. “That exam only tested content for the past year, not your entire academic repertoire over the courses of middle and high school.”

“I’d like to think that the logic still applies the same way.”

“Well,” Susa heaves with a languid stretch. “You generally score better on the exams than me, so you’re probably right. Still, don’t neglect your studying.”

“Right, right, Susa-senpai~”

“... Please don’t call me that again.”

“... If you say so,” he said, but his smile blatantly showed his real intentions of never stopping his irritable quips. Susa gets ready to pack up his book bag before he heads out the door with a friendly wave. Imayoshi half-heartedly returns the gesture with a casual wave of his own. He immediately notices you also packed up and about to leave with a worried frown, and of course, while audibly mumbling your concerns and makeshift schedules to accommodate time for last-minute essay writing. By now, all of your friends have left for home.

“Ah, biology lab due next week, kanji worksheets due tomorrow, hmm, um, how would I finish this on time… ah, calculus test is tomorrow too, ah shit… should I ask someone to tutor?—ah, but it’s super last minute, and there’s still that scholarship… argh, fuck!” Your voice peaked in volume at the end, and the librarian immediately shot daggers at you.

“Shhhhh!”

“A-Ah! S-Sorry, sorry!”

Imayoshi was watching you with his chin on his arm propped up on the desk, unable to control the smile that escaped his lips. You really were entertaining to watch, and you never cease to bore him.

He turns away to crack his neck and roll it around before methodically packing up his writing utensils and notebooks. Soft shuffling filled the air as he rearranged the items inside his bag. As he turns to pack the last thing on the table, which happened to be the notebook filled with his idle doodling, his face slightly softens at the drawing he did after the samurai. Yes, the one Susa chastised him for when he could’ve been studying. Yes, perhaps he was right when he was terrible at drawing after all; your panicked face and wild hand gestures didn’t really translate well into paper, and it looked a little too much like a horror comic and less than a sketch of you. Still, he’s oddly proud of it.

Imayoshi promptly pushes the chair in and leaves the library, but when he rounds the corner of the adjacent hallway, he bumps into you.

“Er—hi! I mean, please, uhhh… if it isn’t too much to ask—canyoupleasetutormeforthecalculustesttomorrowbecausemyfinalgradedependsonthat?”

Imayoshi winces at the sheer volume of your voice and plugs his ears in out of habit to block out some of the decibels. Wakamatsu was eerily similar to you in that regard. Only difference between the two of you was that you were deceptively intelligent. Extremely so.

“My, my, if it isn’t (l/n)-senpai!” He fakes a surprised look, earning him an eye roll on your end. “You need someone like me to teach you the works?”

“I—what? We’re literally in the same calc class, Imayoshi,” you retort. “Besides, drop the ‘senpai’ honorific. It feels so slimy when you say it so disingenuously… Aren’t we both 3rd years too?”

“I’m so hurt,” he mocks. “What if I was really genuine with you?”

“Look, right now, no remarks from you, Evil Glasses,” you say. “It’s really, really urgent and I don’t know how to grasp the material for the class lately, plus my essay, ugh…” You rub your fingers against your temples in an attempt to make the stressful headaches disappear while Imayoshi simply watches with his eyes slightly open.

“... You usually do well on all your exams, no? Unless my eyes and memory fail me.” It was true; even though you were as loud-mouthed as Wakamatsu, you would often shock a lot of people when your name always appeared in the higher percentiles of exam results. Apparently most students and teachers associate your rowdy personality with an expected subpar academic performance. He has you to thank for when your score reports always cause reactions of utter disbelief from the teachers. You really do liven up the school and make it a lot more unorthodox.

“I guess…” you mumble. “But I really wanna do especially well for this one because math is my weakest subject, and you always score the highest for these types of exams, so…”

“It may be my best subject,” he says, leaning slightly closer to your face. “But I’m not the one with the highest scores in any math subjects throughout these years, and we both know that quite well, don’t we, (l/n)? Why don’t you come clean about the real reason why you’re here?”

“Oh my literal fuck—Imayoshi, you’re one of the best students in calc right now regardless of exam results,” you petulantly huffed, not backing down from his intimidation. Imayoshi notes your cheeks reddening, and he figured it was either because of the close proximity between your faces or the fact you were frustrated… perhaps both. “And you’re the only one around here on campus who I could ask!”

“Really now,” he chimes, moving closer to whisper in your ear. “Are you sure?” With incoherent stammers, you backed away from him, slapping your hands against both of your ears to protect them.

“W-W-What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Looks like I won this one, (l/n)-san,” he purrs, relishing the fact that only he could render you this quiet. “Ho? What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“I—Shut up!” you lamely shoot back. “You can just say no if you really don’t wanna do this—urgh, I’m leaving, I’m not gonna waste any more time—”

“How hurtful,” he dryly remarks, standing up straight again after leaning for a quite a while. “It’s almost as if you’re rejecting me~” He knew you would always take his bait and quip back (unlike Susa), regardless of whether or not you tell him that you weren’t going to engage further.

“As if,” you snorted, making another exaggerated eye roll. “You’re the last person who would ever be hurt from this.”

“Dear me!” he exclaims. “Have you ever considered that perhaps I don’t help out people for free? Did you think I would be a gracious, selfless person who would help you like a saint?”

“Okay, fine! Perhaps I didn’t think that far ahead, okay? You just were the first person that came to mind, and I thought asking you wouldn’t hurt.” His smirk widens almost maliciously at your words, lips already opening to deliver another irritating quip before you immediately spoke again to stop him. “Okay, Imayoshi, you little shit, just shut up—I don’t wanna hear anything from your mouth right now.”

“I don’t see any reason why I should listen to you at all,” he muses. “Why don’t you make me?” He has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, eagerly eyeing your next move, and as he expected, you let out a frustrated noise that prompted passerby students to shoot pointed looks towards the both of you.

What he didn’t expect was for you to take a huge step towards him, unceremoniously pull him down to your level, and press a reverberating smack on his lips. His eyes are immediately blown wide open to look at your embarrassed, but determined face. His fingers unconsciously move to touch his warmed lips.

“... That was quite romantic, wasn’t it, (l/n)?” he dryly says, recovering almost immediately from the shock. All the other students fled from the blatantly bold scene to save face. Not that Imayoshi really cared.

“Okay, you know what? Bye, I’m not gonna play anymore mind games with you,” you grumble. “Essays and studying aren’t gonna be done by themselves—wah!”

Imayoshi gently tugs you back to reciprocate back a kiss, meticulously slipping his hands behind your head and on your waist to accommodate you. Your eyes are completely open from the shock that the Imayoshi Shoichi was actually kissing you. You don’t close your eyes from the sensation, completely entranced when you make eye contact with his half-lidded eyes watching your every reaction closely. The kiss ended all too soon, and Imayoshi separates himself from you, secretly admiring your dazed look.

“That was quite a strong reaction to just a simple kiss.”

“I—that was not just a ‘simple kiss!’”

“Now would you like to tell me the true reason why you approached me?”

“You’re… insinuating that you know something.”

“Well we wouldn’t know unless you come clean,” Imayoshi purrs. “I can sometimes be wrong too.”

“Ugh, what the hell—fine, I am quite enamored by you, and uh, I… find it infuriating to be with you, but it also gives me butterflies… so I thought I could be with you more… if I asked you—don’t get it twisted, though! I still need your help to study!...” He covers his mouth to suppress a laugh at your honesty.

“Was it really so hard to say that in the beginning, (l/n)-san?”

“Okay, that’s it! I’m really, really leaving! Fuck off, Imayoshi, I swear to—”

“Ho? Just a minute, darling~” he tuts, reaching to hold your hand. “Perhaps if you offer more kisses as an incentive, I’d be more inclined to offer my expertise.”

“How quaint,” you dryly reply. “It’s almost as if we’re in a relationship.”

Imayoshi can’t help but bark out a genuine laugh. You even managed to pick up some of his mannerisms so quickly.

“That’s an interesting proposal, (l/n),” he murmurs. “Should we try that?” You tut at him irritatedly as you tug your interlocked hands while speed-walking ahead.

“Hurry up, or I’ll consider breaking up with you right now.”

“Ah ha!~” he chuckles at your attitude. “How mean, (l/n)-san! Too bad that we both know that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

#ask #narnvaeron #knb #knb scenarios #kuroko no basket #imayoshi shouichi #imayoshi shoichi #imayoshi x reader #imayoshi #knb fic #knb fluff #100 followers #100 follower milestone

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imaginationintowords · 3 years

Text

Folklore [song series]

invisible strings

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years

Word count: 3401

[ a/n: thank you so much for all the love and support. We’re almost done with this series! If I forgot to tag you please let me know! Also the ending is a bit lackluster but decided to save the best one for something special for the last chapter]

Age: 21

Year: June/July 2015

Location: CA & NY

"Thank-you all for coming and christening our new place," Thor thanks everyone, as he and Loki stood up at the dining table in their lit up backyard.

"Now there's one person I want to thank, my love," Thor said, reaching his hand out to Wanda who was sat to his left, Loki took his seat back down, "My love, I just want to thank-you for being by my side these last two years. I have never been as happy as I am with anyone else. Now I'm not very good with my words, but what I do know is how I feel about you. The love I have for you exceeds anything else."

"So, I just need to ask you this one question," he says, bending down on one knee, holding Wanda's left hand, while holding the ring box in the other, "Will you, Wanda Maximoff marry me?

"Yes," she cried out, throwing her arms around Thor's neck.

Everyone got up to cheer the newly engaged couple.

Steve and Elizabeth laid naked in her bed, comfortably in each other's presence after the night's activities.

"I can't believe Wanda and Thor are engaged," Elizabeth said, as Steve rubbed her arm as she laid on his chest.

"He's been talking about it for the last year," Steve tells her, "Said he didn't want to scare her off."

"Guess I'm going to have to find a new roommate," she jokes.

"Well actually, I was thinking."

"You better not be proposing to me post sex, while we're naked in bed," Elizabeth playfully jabbed his chest, looking up at him from his chest.

"No, no," Steve lets out a hearty laugh, "Not yet. We still have time for that."

"I was actually thinking, why don't we get a place together. After graduation," Steve suggests.

"What about your job?"

"I can commute," he says, "I'll be done with school in May. You still have law school after graduation, and I have no doubt Stanford is going to accept you into their law program, so you don't have to move."

"What if I don't get accepted?"

"I highly doubt you won't, but if you don't, I'm sure Columbia will snatch you up. And I'd follow you, wherever you go."

"Really?" Elizabeth asked, surprised he would even say that.

"Yeah. There's a lot of architect firms out there, and I'm sure my boss will give me a nice recommendation."

"I couldn't ask that of you Steve," Elizabeth said, getting off of his chest to sit up, grabbing the blanket to cover her chest.

"Which is why I'm offering. I want to do that Liz. This right here," he sits up, and gestures to the both, "This is all I want. So please, if it comes time for that, just let me."

"Okay. Promise you won't resent me?" She asks, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"Never," he seriously says, pulling her in for a kiss, and back into his arms.

As they laid in bed, Steve notices Liz is lost in her thoughts.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"Us, and everything that's lead us to this moment. Like there were some invisible strings leading me to you," she tells him.

"Yeah, you're correct," he ponders.

"Like everything that's happened, happened for a reason. We weren't supposed to be with each other then otherwise we probably wouldn't have made it out of high school."

"You don't think?" Steve asked.

"No, because we wouldn't have been the people we are now. Let's be real here Steve, you and I are not Bucky or Peggy. We're dreamers. Full on happy ending believing people who happened to be with realists at the time. We would've been so naive about the world outside of Brooklyn," Elizabeth says.

"We had never truly experienced pain in the way that we did. If we didn't go through senior year the way that we did, we wouldn't be here. Not specifically together or in California. But we would be stuck in a life where we forced ourselves to be happy. Where we didn't have room to grow. Room to experience a different way of life. We would've been who we were as 16 year olds. And don't get me wrong but that's no way to be."

"I'm glad this happened when it did," she says tilting her head to look at Steve's face.

"Me too," he smiled kissing the top of her head.

"Wow, my arm is so tired from lugging this ring around," Wanda announces walking into Elizabeth's room where she was packing things into a suitcase.

"Must be so exhausting," Liz teases as Wanda takes a seat on her bed.

"Incredibly," Wanda smiled, "How's the packing going?"

"Good, I have everything I'll need for the next two weeks," Liz tells her, "You guys are flying in two days before Steve's birthday right?"

"Yup! Thor seems to be more excited about Steve turning 21 than he is," Wanda laughs, "Next up will be you next month. Vegas won't be ready for us."

"Thor really is going out for all of our 21st birthdays, is he."

"He's excited we're all legally allowed to drink," Wanda says.

"So," Wanda shifted in her seat, "Are you guys going to the baby shower?"

"Yeah we are," Liz nodded her head, "Things have been better, and Steve really wants to be there for Bucky, and so do I."

"How are you feeling about it all?"

"Honestly, if Bucky is happy then so am I."

"It doesn't bother you even the slightest that he's having a baby with the woman he cheated on you with?"

"No," Liz shakes her head, "We've both moved on and grew from our situation. I'm happy with Steve, truly 100% happy. I know in my heart that Steve is the one."

"Whoa, wait, back that up," Wanda immediately shot up from her spot on the bed, "He's the one?"

"Yeah," Liz bascule smiles, her cheeks turning a slight pink.

"I mean, I knew that you loved him, but I don't think you've ever said out loud that he was the one."

Elizabeth shrugs her shoulders trying to fight off the huge grin that wants to spread across her face, "Well he is."

"Wow, umm this is great news," Wanda says looking around the room.

"What's wrong?" Liz asks taking in Wanda's sudden mood change.

"I just," Wanda coughed, trying to fight back the ball in her throat, her eyes tearing up, "I'm so happy for you. God this ring is making me incredibly emotional."

"Aw Wands," Elizabeth pulled her into a hug.

"You just deserve to be with someone who truly thinks the world of you and would move those worlds for you," Wanda cries in Liz's shoulder, "I just remember you telling me all about the shit you went through with Bucky in high school, and then the crap he put you through freshman year. You were just so over the idea of love. Even with steve you were so cautious, so just to hear you say that he's the one. I'm just so incredibly happy."

Elizabeth hugged Wanda tightly, tears streaming down her face. It meant the world to her to hear Wanda say those things. She felts so incredibly lucky to have a friends like her in her life.

"I better be your maid of honor," Wanda teased pulling away and wiping her tears, "Because you already know you're mine."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"We still need to get a baby shower gift for tomorrow," Elizabeth told Steve as they lounged around his childhood bedroom. Steve was sat at his desk sketching, while Elizabeth laid in his bed reading a book.

"I can do that if you want," Steve offered, not wanting to make Elizabeth uncomfortable no matter how many times she's told him she was fine.

"Somehow I don't think I can trust you getting the correct gift," Elizabeth teased.

"Babies like legos right?" He teased back, getting up to join her on the bed, laying his head down on her stomach.

"We can go together, I still need to get a few things for the party next weekend," she said playing with his hair.

Steve hummed in response, feeling himself getting tired, "A quick little nap and we'll go."

"Sounds good," she smiled at the man snuggled up on her.

The next day the couple were walking into the Barnes' backyard, hand-in-hand with a gift bag.

They were both instantly greeted by Bucky's mother Winnie.

"Oh you two made it!" She enthusiastically greeted them, pulling them both into a hug.

"Of course. We wouldn't have missed it," Steve smiled at her.

"Thank-you," she turned to Liz and grabbed her hand, "both of you. James really appreciates it. We all do. Especially with everything that has happened, he's going to need his best friends."

"You don't have to thank us," Liz says, "We'll always be there for Bucky. No matter what happens."

"Well thank-you," she smiles, and then turns to Steve, "Steve the men have been sent inside, so you can see your way inside."

"Already getting pushed aside," he jokes.

He placed a kiss on Elizabeth's cheek, "I'll be inside if you need me."

She nodded her head, then glanced around the yard and caught eye contact with an old high school classmate, Natasha's friend, rolling her eyes at the couple.

She cleared her throat, "Where do the gifts go?"

"Over at that table where Rebecca is at," Winnie smiled, and pointed to the table to the right where Rebecca was organizing all the gifts. Liz thanked her and made her way over.

Liz couldn't help but start to feel a bit uncomfortable. She hadn't planned for she and Steve to be separated for the entire party. She didn't really know anyone here, aside from Bucky's family, where things were still a bit awkward after last summer.

Even though things were good between Steve, Bucky, and her, it was still awkward. She and Natasha don't have the best history, they still haven't talked everything out, clear the air. Not that Nat owed Elizabeth a conversation, she just thought that now that things were okay, maybe them two can work on their relationship, for the sake of Bucky. But whenever Liz tried to reach out Nat would just say that she was busy, so she didn't push it. Not with Natasha being pregnant, plus she figured now that she was in town for two weeks that maybe they could get together for a quick chat.

"Hey Liz," Rebecca greeted her, a sigh of relief to see a friendly face.

"Hey Bec," she smiled, hugging the teen.

"God, I'm so glad to see you," Rebecca said pulling back from the hug, "Some of these girls are real bitches."

Liz was taken back for a second hearing Rebecca swear, it's sometimes hard to believe that tiny little toddler is now this young lady about to enter her senior year of high school.

"I'm sure they're not so bad," Liz said trying to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"Really? Because they're looking at you like you just murdered their entire family," Rebecca said.

Elizabeth turned around to see Natasha's friends huddled in a semi-circle around Natasha, all whispering and glaring at her. She turned back around to Rebecca and gave her a force smile.

Rebecca felt bad at bringing that to Liz's attention. Liz was always so nice to her, and even continues to keep in contact with her especially when Rebecca needs any help or advice.

"I can take that," she said trying to change the subject.

"Thank-you," she quietly said, handing over the gift bag to Rebecca.

"They're just jealous," Rebecca tells her, "Even with having my brother's child, Natasha still can't find it in her cold hearted heart to be nice to you."

"She doesn't owe me anything."

"Now that's not true. She owes you a lot, and the least she can do is be nice, especially with my mother throwing her this baby shower and allowing her to live with us until she and Bucky find a place."

"She's living here?" Elizabeth asked, surprised to hear that. Bucky never mentioned Nat living with them, they did know that they were looking at places closer to his job and school.

"Yeah, she moved in probably two months ago, when she really started to show," Rebecca tells her, "Apparently she hadn't told her dad, and once she started showing she had to confess. He kicked her out. Said she was ruining her life."

"That's intense," Elizabeth said.

"Yup. So my mom and Keith are letting her stay until they find a place of their own," Rebecca says, "And as much as I love my brother I can't wait til she's gone. He's an idiot for knocking her up."

"She can't be that bad," Liz said trying to give Nat the benefit of the doubt.

"Trust me Liz, she is. Being pregnant has made her a complete devil," Rebecca stresses, "My mom is way too nice to have that be the mother of her first grandchild."

Before Liz could respond to that, someone came up behind her.

"Oh Becky, I wanted the gifts to be color coordinated," Natasha remarked, with her hand on her belly.

"My mom told me to do it by size," Rebecca rolled her eyes, "And my name's Rebecca."

"But Becky is so cute."

"No it's not," Rebecca argued.

"Hi Natasha," Elizabeth awkwardly greeted, breaking up the conversation.

"Oh hi Elizabeth," Natasha stiffly said, forcing a smile on her face as she rubs her belly, "Didn't think you would show up."

"Oh, well Steve told Bucky we were coming," she explains.

"Of course he did."

"You look pretty," Elizabeth complimented her to try and break the tension.

"I know. I'm absolutely glowing carrying Bucky's child," she replied with a snarky tone.

"I'm really happy for you both."

"Sure you are," she rolled her eyes.

"No, I truly am. That's why I actually wanted to talk to you about. I was wondering if maybe we can get together sometime this next week, to talk," Liz suggests.

"There's no need," Nat tells her, "I get what you're doing. You think that getting on my good graces will put you in Bucky's good graces, but I hate to break it to you, that's not going to happen. I'm trying my best here to be polite to you, but once this baby is born, I'll make sure Bucky no longer makes time for you and Steve. I am his life now, and we don't have space in it for you both."

"Nat-"

"Thanks for the gift, hopefully the gift receipt is in the bag," Natasha fake smiled, "Enjoy the party."

"Fix the gifts Becky," she turned to Rebecca enunciating 'Becky', before walking away to go back to her friends.

"Told you she was the devil," Rebecca commented, ignoring Natasha's request.

"Yeah, you weren't lying," Elizabeth turned to look at Nat who was laughing with her friends.

Steve and Elizabeth said their final goodbyes a couple of hours later, and walked back to their rental car.

"That went well, don't you think?" Steve commented on as he started the car.

"Yeah it did," she lied.

Elizabeth decided it was probably best not to bring it up to Steve. He and Bucky just fixed their relationship, that she was afraid if she told Steve that Bucky wouldn't believe them. She would just have to hope that Bucky wouldn't allow their friendship to take another hit. She had faith that their friendship was stronger than that.

"Do you mind if we made a stop somewhere?" Steve asks her as he pulls away from the curb.

"No, of course not."

"Perfect. We just have to make one quick pit stop before," he says a few minutes later, parking in a parking lot of a cafe.

Steve walked back out of the cafe with a picnic basket.

"What's that for?" She asked smiling as he got in, putting the basket in the backseat.

"Just wait and see," he winked.

15 minutes later they were pulling up to a park.

"A park?"

"Thought we could have an impromptu picnic date," he smiles, "Wait here."

He got out of the car and grabbed the basket from the backseat. She heard him close and open the trunk. He then opened her door.

"Mi lady," he held his hand open for her to take.

"Oh why thank-you kind sir," she giggled taking his hand.

He led her to a nice spot on top of a hill, overlooking the park.

"Can you hold this for me real quick," he asked, holding out the picnic basket for her.

She took it from him as he laid out the blanket. Steve took the basket back and started to unpack the contents and laid them out on the blanket for them.

"A little dinner at sunset," he offered his hand so she can sit down next to him on the blanket.

"This was perfect Steve," she kissed his cheek, as they finished off their little dinner.

"Just thought I'd thank-you for coming with me today," he says wrapping his arm around her, as she leaned into him.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I know I don't, but I want to. I know you say you were fine with today, and I completely believe you, but I also know that even if you're okay with it, it's still can be uncomfortable," he says, "So I just want to show you how appreciative I am of you."

"I love you," she leans her head up to capture his lips with her's.

Age: 27

Year: 2021

Location: Brooklyn, NY

"Steve whats with the blind fold," Elizabeth giggled in the passenger seat of their rental car.

"It's a surprise," he laughed, "Now just be patient, we're almost there."

"Steve, come on you know I hate surprises."

"You liked the last surprise I gave you," he teased.

"It was a kitten, that's different," she smiled.

"You still loved it," he said, "Plus we're here already."

"Oh that was quick," she said reaching to take her blindfold off.

"Don't," he warned her, "Not yet."

Steve helped her out of the car, and linked their arms together as he led her to the surprise.

"Okay, we're here," he nervously said, he took her blindfold off.

Liz adjusted her eyes after being in the dark for the past 30 minutes. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted with a lantern lit up picnic on top of the hill at the park.

"Surprise," Steve said behind her.

Liz turned around to find Steve down on one knee, with an opened ring box.

"Steve," she gasped.

He took her left hand into his own.

"Elizabeth Carolina Sanchez, words can't even explain how much I am in love with you, but I'm going to try. I don't think i can remember back to a time where you weren't a part of my life, and honestly i don't want to. You've made me so incredibly happy these last almost seven years, and no matter how much I say I'm appreciate of you, i don't think it's ever going to be enough. Getting to wake up to you every day to you smiling at me, honestly i don't think there's a greater thing in the world. I'd give the entire world, if it meant that I got to see you smile every day of my life. I don't ever want to imagine a life without you. You've made me the best person I could ever want to be. There's not a day that doesn't go by where you don't continuously tell me how proud you are of me, and the endless amount of support and love you've given me. There's no one I'd rather spend my entire life with. Start a family with. Be a family with. So, Elizabeth, will you do me the greatest honor of marrying me?"

"Yes," Elizabeth choked out, as the tears streamed down her face. She lunged herself into Steve's arms and kissed him.

"I love you so much," she cried.

"I love you too," he said, pulling her into another kiss.

They pulled away, and Steve placed the ring on her finger.

"I love you," she said again.

58 notes · View notes

iatethepomegranate · 3 years

Text

Just a post-Aeor fic where Caleb buys a house with Beau and Yasha in Rexxentrum, becomes a professor, and learns how to be a person and protect people from what he has endured.

Content warnings: Caleb's backstory (a lot of it)

Chapter summary: Caleb's mind was in overdrive. There were so many calls to make, so many spells to prepare, so many things that could go wrong at every stage of this delicate operation, so many plans and backup plans and backup plans for backup plans. He could not let the past repeat itself.

Chapter notes: Say hello to a major plot arc. Also, I did my best to figure out a vague layout of the relevant parts of Rexxentrum but I am bad with directions, so *finger guns*

Chapter title from Eight by Sleeping At Last.

****

Chapter 6: I’m just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut and bury my innocence

Caleb’s scars itched as he headed home from the Academy, mind buzzing uncomfortably. His hands were somehow steady as he messaged Beauregard.

“Beauregard. I had an unsettling conversation with Astrid and Wulf. Two Volstrucker students are missing. Felix and Nicolaus. Evocation wizards. May have self-orphan orders.” He realised belatedly that he had forgotten to ask Astrid for a description. Also, he hoped Beauregard never told anyone he had used the term self-orphan. He’d made himself a little queasy in his haste to keep to the word limit.

“I’ll make sure the Soul keeps an eye out. And I’ll get a description from Astrid in the morning. Get over here. Dinner’s ready.”

Beau and Yasha kept the conversation flowing over dinner, absolving Caleb of that social responsibility. He felt useless, sitting here while there were two boys out there somewhere, who were possibly in the process of deciding whether or not to kill their parents based on an implanted memory of treason. If they weren’t found in time, Caleb wasn’t sure he could ever forgive himself.

The two women hugged him goodnight after dinner, and he shook so hard he feared he would collapse. Yasha held onto him a little longer than she had probably planned, while Beauregard stepped back to take a look at him.

“Caleb.” She had that tone, the one what told him he looked like shit but she was trying not to freak him out. “Maybe you should take a spare room on this side tonight.”

“I’m all right, Beauregard.” He knew he sounded ridiculous. “Hear me out. Please.” Beauregard tilted her head in a silent challenge. “I need to think. I need to process this. I need to come up with plans for every possible outcome. And I may need to make some calls.”

“Do you want to talk it out?”

“I would like to be alone. Just for tonight. We will talk tomorrow.”

Beauregard looked for a moment like she was going to argue, and then she quite intentionally relaxed her shoulders. “Okay. You’ll tell us if you need anything, right?”

“Ja, of course.”

Yasha gave him one last squeeze. “We mean it. Anything.”

“I know. Danke.”

Caleb escaped to his bedroom. He forced himself to slow down a bit, take deep breaths, and get dressed for bed. He settled under the covers, slowly circling his palm over the quilt and feeling the different animal patterns. He’d already committed them to memory. But, on a night like this, it helped to know that what he thought was reality before was still reality now.

What a fucking mess. Before he could get too deep into his head, he messaged Caduceus.

“Hallo, Caduceus. Two of Trent’s students are missing. We suspect memories may have been modified. If we locate them, are you available to help us?”

There was a short pause; Caduceus was probably weighing his response, aware that he would not be able to track the wordcount once he began to speak. “Of course. Let me know when I’m needed. If you could spare a teleport, that would be great.”

Caleb cast the spell again. “I will give you a head’s up when I need you and then grab you from the Grove. Danke. Today has been… a lot.”

“Get some rest, Caleb. I left some sleepy tea in your kitchen if you need it. I’ll be here when you need me.”

That was one problem handled. Caleb burned through another Sending.

“Astrid, Caduceus is on call to correct any memory modification. Beauregard will be in touch with you tomorrow to get their descriptions.”

“Danke. I will ensure the Cobalt Soul is adequately informed. Now go to bed.”

Caleb let him feel her unspoken concern for him, just for a moment. Maybe one day they could be friends again. He curled up beneath the covers and closed his eyes. He would have to ensure he packed Counterspell and Sending every day. Perhaps Hold Person would also be useful. Control Flames would also not go amiss, just in case. And Expeditious Retreat or Fly would be useful in case time was of the essence at any point. Suggestion could be useful if they had the chance to talk. Running through spells he should prepare made him feel a bit better about how little control he had over this.

He was still losing his mind a little bit.

“Caleb,” came Essek’s voice, pumping air into Caleb's lungs. “Apologies. I meant to message earlier. I’m safe. Saved a child’s pet cat from a tree. He hugged me. Strange. How was your day?”

“Intense.” Caleb wasn’t sure how much to say, and he would definitely have to burn more spells to go into any detail. “Astrid promised to find a venue for the ex-Volstrucker support group. Two boys are unaccounted for. We are concerned. They are… almost graduates.”

Before Caleb could decide whether to say more, Essek Sent again. “Are you all right? Can I help with anything?”

“Not right now. We will… see how this pans out. They’re from Blumenthal, and I didn’t hear anything when I was there. May have time.” Caleb burnt another of his own spells before Essek did. “I have Caduceus on standby and Beauregard will talk to the Soul tomorrow. We may have a chance. I hope.”

“I will come in a heartbeat if you need me. Keep me updated. Get some rest if you can. Goodnight. You are in my thoughts.”

It helped, just a bit. Caleb still tossed and turned for a while, unable to turn his brain off. But things were… maybe they were manageable. He had half a mind to take himself to Blumenthal tomorrow, find out where the boys’ parents lived and get them somewhere safe. Or maybe he could… no, they would not handle a stranger showing up at their door in the dead of the night very well.

****

Astrid came to the house the following morning, with sketches for Beauregard to distribute to the Cobalt Soul. It was odd to sit on the couch with her. Like friends would.

“Eadwulf is in the city with the Volstrucker we could mobilise,” she said. “If either of them come to Rexxentrum, between us and the monks, we will find them. I spoke to my guard contact; the families are okay.”

“Have we considered evacuating them?” asked Caleb. The thought had kept him up for a long time last night. Maybe it was the best option.

There was a flicker of discomfort across Astrid’s face for the barest of seconds. “I don’t trust the Crownsguard to handle a delicate mission like that. It would be up to us. Or perhaps the Soul, but I’m already stretching our relationship with them.”

“Yudala Fon knows the stakes,” said Caleb. “If you are not comfortable visiting Blumenthal yourself…”

“Are you?”

“I have been once. I can bear it again to save half a dozen lives.”

They both knew it wasn’t just the parents whose lives were in danger. If Felix and Nicolaus followed through on this and were not stopped…

Well, Caleb had lost eleven years, and then another six running and running and running. Astrid and Wulf had lost their freedom as well. And Caleb could not even begin to comprehend the special kind of pain it would bring these boys if they murdered their parents only to discover Trent had been in prison for weeks, his crimes exposed, his orders no longer in effect. Caleb wasn’t sure he could have survived that.

Astrid must have understood what Caleb was feeling, because she spoke gently. “It is an option. We could also leave them in place under guard to draw the boys out.”

“I would rather not.” Caleb could already conjure a dozen scenarios in which that could go horribly wrong. “Astrid, we cannot fuck this up. You and I both know these boys could overpower a Crownsguard, or sneak past a security detail. No risks. We have to move the families.”

Astrid opened her mouth to respond, and then paused, eyes drifting upwards in concentration. “Thanks, Wulf. Do not engage. Herd him towards us if you can. We will be there shortly.” She focused back on Caleb. “Felix is in the city. Eadwulf is trailing him. They are approaching from the south.” She hopped to her feet, and helped Caleb up. “Shall we?”

As they raced out the door, Caleb messaged Beauregard. “Felix has been spotted. Approaching The Tangles from the south. Wulf is trailing. We are headed to intercept. Could use a hand.”

“I’m in the Court of Colours, southwest of your position. I’ll link up with Eadwulf. Will get the monks to surround. We got this.”

“Beauregard is southwest of us,” Caleb told Astrid. “She’ll try to find Wulf and have the monks form a perimeter.”

“We only have one shot with Felix,” Astrid muttered. “This could make or break everything. No fuckups?”

“No fuckups.”

They ran.

As they drew closer to the suspected middle point, Caleb shot a quick message to Wulf. “We are close to the midpoint. Turning invisible now.” He grabbed Astrid’s hand, hiding them both from view.

Wulf’s response was a whisper. “Slowing down. I think he knows I’m here, but hasn’t done anything yet.”

Caleb was grateful most seventeen-year-old wizards had not yet figured out teleportation. He and Astrid also slowed, still hand-in-hand.

“We try to talk to him before we do anything aggressive,” Astrid whispered. “Get us close.”

“Worst case scenario, Beauregard stuns him and Wulf carries him somewhere we can have a secure conversation. I can try casting Suggestion if necessary, before we do anything to freak him out.”

They turned a corner and Caleb spotted the boy in a crowd of people carrying baskets and cloths and the like, probably headed to market. Felix was slim and blonde, and looked like he hadn’t slept in a few days. His shoulders were tight. The pair stayed ahead of him. Caleb spotted the instant Felix started getting a little too nervous, his eyes darting backwards for the barest of moments, towards Eadwulf, buried even as he was in the crowd.

Caleb tugged Astrid’s hand towards an alley before letting go and stepping into it, hoping he had read this right. Felix also turned into the alley, putting his back to the wall of a nearby inn, raising a hand to prepare a spell. Caleb recognised the somatic components of Scorching Ray. He prepared to counter it.

As soon as Wulf emerged, Felix tried to release the spell, and Caleb counterspelled, losing his invisibility.

Felix shook out his hands, still focused on Wulf. “Why are you following me, Eadwulf?”

Wulf raised an eyebrow. “Did you consider asking that before trying to set me on fire?”

Felix’s eyes narrowed, and Caleb wondered if Trent had tried to drive a wedge between the Volstruck, and Astrid and Wulf.

Astrid dropped her invisibility, appearing next to Wulf. “Felix, what’s the matter? Are you well?”

Her emergence did not calm Felix in the slightest. “Am I--” He scoffed. “Are you kidding?”

“We have been looking for you for weeks,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I have a mission to complete.”

Caleb considered recasting his invisibility, but the spell required verbal and somatic components. He just had to hold still and hope Astrid and Wulf commanded Felix’s attention until Caleb figured out what to do.

“Felix, you have been gone from the city for a long time,” said Astrid, and Caleb slowly reached for his component pouch. “Things have changed. Your mission, whatever it is, may no longer be viable.”

“We need to take you back to the Candles,” said Wulf.

Caleb felt his snake’s tongue and a piece of honeycomb, and began to slowly extract them from his pouch.

Felix didn’t move. “Why?”

Astrid glanced at Wulf, before evidently deciding on a course of action. “Trent has been arrested. We are trying to gather the Volstrucker so we can explain the charges against him.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Felix, what did he ask you to do?”

“It’s confidential.”

Caleb had the materials in his hand, so he rubbed the honeycomb against his lip, and spoke. “Felix, we are here to help you, but we need you to help us. Could we please have an honest conversation with each other?”

There was a moment where Caleb feared Felix would resist the Suggestion spell, and that Beauregard would have to swoop in and stun him. Felix turned to him, head cocked.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “You are Bren, right? Trent talks about you a lot.” He glanced at Astrid and Wulf. “He seemed worried the three of you were scheming behind his back.”

“Let’s head to his old office, ja? We have a lot to talk about. We will answer your questions, if you answer ours.”

“All right. Lead on.”

Caleb could not fucking believe that had worked. Judging from Astrid and Eadwulf’s brief but clearly shocked glances in his direction, they couldn’t believe it either.

****

Caleb couldn’t risk sending a message to Beauregard explaining what had happened, but she seemed to get the sense she shouldn’t reveal herself. Caleb led Felix through the city to the Academy, and up to Astrid’s office. They sat him in front of the fireplace.

Caleb crouched in front of him while Astrid stood by the fire, and Wulf leaned by the door. “Thank you for cooperating, Felix. Give me one moment. I need to message a friend who is going to help us.” He cast Sending. “Caduceus. We will need you in a moment.”

“I’m ready when you are.”

“I’ll go,” said Eadwulf. “Be right back.” With a muttered incantation, he had vanished.

“Where is he going?” asked Felix.

“To fetch a cleric friend of mine,” Caleb replied. “You look tired. Are you well?”

“Had a lot on my mind, I guess. Sleeping has been difficult.”

“I know the feeling.” Caleb looked to Astrid. “We should explain the situation, ja?”

“Why was Trent arrested?” asked Felix.

“A number of Volstrucker spoke with the Cobalt Soul about his training methods,” Astrid replied. “They documented it and took him to court. He’s in prison for life.”

Felix frowned. “I’m confused.”

Caleb should have expected Felix probably wouldn’t understand Trent’s behaviour as abuse; Caleb hadn’t either. “Felix, I would like you to listen to me.” He rolled up his sleeves so Felix could see the scars, which he was certain Felix shared. “A good teacher does not force his students to endure what we have.”

“We will face worse every day in our work,” Felix replied. “The pain… it makes us stronger.”

“And the residuum experiments? With no pain mitigation? I know people who have passed out in the process. Has that happened to you?”

“Once or twice,” Felix muttered, evidently still under the effects of the spell. “Puked more often.”

“Me too,” said Caleb, resisting the urge to scratch his itching scars. “It made me very ill most of the time. Astrid and Eadwulf had to force me to eat.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why are you asking me these questions?”

Astrid was gazing into the flames. “Felix, how old were you when Trent first hurt you?”

“Sixteen.”

Astrid managed to look at Caleb, just for a moment. “The same for him.” Astrid was a year older so it made sense to invoke Caleb instead, and maybe it was easier for her to project these things onto him.

Wulf popped back into the office, with the very welcome form of Caduceus beside him. Felix jumped, but Caleb had told him what was happening, and that seemed to be enough to stop him from bolting.

“Hallo, Caduceus,” said Caleb. “Can you give us just one more moment?” He turned back to Felix. “I’m going to have my friend Caduceus take a look at you and make sure you are well, but I would like to ask you a question first.”

“Fine.”

“What has Trent ordered you to do?”

Felix dropped his gaze to his lap. “My mother and father are plotting to betray the Empire. I have been asked to stop them.”

“That must have been weeks ago,” said Caleb. “What’s the matter?”

Felix scowled, and tried several times to supply an answer, as he was required to be honest while under the effects of Caleb’s specifically-worded spell. “I don’t know. They are not the people I thought they were. They are traitors. But. It’s not… I don’t know what to do. I’ve been waiting for Trent to give me more information, but I haven’t heard anything. I guess I was trying to figure out if there was a way I could convince them to…” He shook his head. “No. There is no mercy for traitors to the Empire.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Caleb. “It must be very difficult. May Caduceus take a look at you? You have clearly been under a great deal of stress.”

Felix had probably never seen a firbolg before, and he eyed Caduceus with trepidation. “What is he going to do?”

“It’s all right,” said Astrid. “He is a healer. The three of us have spent time in his family’s garden.”

“I… suppose…”

Caduceus approached slowly. “This will be quick, I promise. Just a healing spell to make you feel a bit better.” He already had the diamond dust for Greater Restoration in his palm. He touched Felix’s shoulder. It took a second for the spell to sink in, during which Caleb couldn’t breathe.

Then Felix slid to the floor, head in his hands. Astrid knelt beside him, whispering too quietly for Caleb to hear.

“One down,” Caduceus said softly, smiling at Caleb. “One to go.”

Caleb couldn’t speak. He watched Felix curl up on the floor, muttering to Astrid. She looked up at him, beckoned him over. Caleb knelt by her side.

“I don’t understand,” Felix said. “Why? Why? I don’t…” He shoved his fist against his mouth and screamed into it, eyes squeezed shut. “Why would he do this?”

There were a lot of things Caleb could say; he was not convinced any of them were right. But he had to say something. “He’s done this to all of us. Every Volstrucker went through this to graduate.”

“He does it for a few reasons,” Astrid said, quiet but somewhat detached. “It eliminates any family connections, leaving us reliant on Trent. And then, we’ve done the worst thing we thought we could do. Anything Trent has us do after that means very little. And those who break…” She looked at Caleb. “They are held up as an example of failure that we are measured against. We all know Bren’s name for a reason. First, as an example of failure, of weakness. Later, an example of endurance, of admirable but problematic stubbornness. A cautionary tale nonetheless.”

Felix looked to Caleb as well. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this information?”

Caleb wanted to comfort him, but didn’t know what Felix would tolerate, and there was a pressing matter. “First things first, we need to find Nicolaus.”

Felix drew his knees up to his chest and hid his face against them. “I don’t know where he is. We argued and then we went our separate ways.”

“What did you argue about?”

“I wanted to come here and find Trent. Ask about the order. See if there was anything we could… I don’t know.”

“And what did he want?”

“Nico doesn’t know what he wants. He was always more scared of Trent than I am.”

“Okay, we have ways to track him down. Caduceus, can you scry today?”

“I can,” Caduceus said slowly. “Might I also recommend, if Mr Felix knows the spell, that he should try Sending to him.”

“I don’t know that spell,” Felix said thickly. Caleb would just make out the side of his face, to see it was screwed up as if in pain.

“I can teach you,” said Caleb, “but I suspect it will take more time than we have right now.” Sending was an Evocation spell, so it would probably only take Felix three hours instead of six to copy it into his spellbook and practice it until he could do it, but that was still too long.

Caduceus sat cross-legged on the floor. “Do you have anything of his? Or a likeness?”

Wulf handed him a sketch. “Does this help?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Caduceus closed his eyes and began the ritual.

“I can try messaging Nico,” Astrid said, gripping her copper wire. “Nicolaus. It’s Astrid. I must meet with you in Trent’s office. It’s an urgent matter.” She waited, scowled. “Nothing.”

Caleb refused to panic, no matter how bad that sounded. “Okay. Good to know.”

Felix lifted his head. “What if we’re too late?”

“We don’t know that yet,” said Caleb. “Whatever happens, we will deal with it.”

Felix frowned at the floor. “What happens to me now?”

“We can take you home to your parents once we’ve got an idea of Nico’s situation,” said Caleb. “Unless you need more time.”

“Just a bit. I think. But I’d like to see them. Not today.”

“There is plenty of dormitory space for however long you need,” said Astrid. “Bren will visit you regularly once you are with your parents, to check in.” Felix nodded. That had not been discussed, but it was something that Caleb would want to do, so he let it slide.

The ten minutes it took for Caduceus to complete the spell were some of the longest of Caleb’s life. But then Caduceus’s eyes went white, and it seemed to be working.

Caduceus began to narrate what I saw. “I see your boy. He’s in a field. The clouds are pretty dark. It’s hard to see much. I think I see some buildings ahead of him. I’ll follow him for a bit.”

There was a sick feeling in the pit of Caleb’s stomach. “We should be ready, just in case.”

Astrid’s fingers weaved around the wire. “Expositor, are you close by? We may need your assistance. Come to my office on the--ugh, just ask for directions.” She listened. “Expositor Lionett is outside the Academy. She will be here soon.”

Caduceus spoke again. “He is approaching the village. Not many people in the streets. Probably the incoming storm. He looks like he has a goal.”

“What can you see of the buildings?” asked Caleb. “Any signs?”

“The signs are Zemnian,” said Caduceus. “The buildings look like farmhouses, mostly. I think I saw an orchard.”

“Blumenthal is a farming town,” Caleb muttered. “Fuck.”

Beauregard burst through the door, gasping for breath. “I’m here!” She doubled over, hands on her knees, as she sucked in air.

“Get ready to move,” said Wulf, stony-faced. “It looks bad.”

“Shit.” She gulped in another breath. “Okay.”

Caleb felt a little better now that she was here, but he was wound too tight to process it. “Caduceus. Is there anything else?”

“He’s picking up speed. Turned a corner. Looking at a house in the distance, I think.”

Caleb did not let himself feel anything. He turned to Felix. “Felix, do you know where Nico’s parents live?”

“On the northeastern edge of town.” Felix’s voice was as tense as Caleb. “Look for the cabbages.”

“Danke.” He squeezed Felix’s shoulder and pushed himself to his feet. “We need to go.”

Caduceus was still in the vision. “Go on ahead. I’ll stay here with Felix. If I see anything I think is useful, I will Send. But it will break the scry.”

Caleb gathered Astrid, Wulf and Beauregard around him and cast teleport, aiming for the northeastern end of Blumenthal. He knew it well, once.