#its done first chapter is up follow the link

[seeingivy]

water lillies

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

an: two chapters back to back. also the last one :'(

--

sukuna realizes that repetitive phrases help him in the year that follows. that no matter how dangerous it feels, the feeling of hope is one that he has to keep in his chest, regardless of his track record of horrendously horrible bad luck. 

he’s not going to die tomorrow. yuuji’s perfectly healthy. he’s going to replace the plastic finger on your ring with a real one someday. you’re all going to live very long lives. 

there’s a nervous anticipation, an excited one simmering in his chest, as picks up the little tray of drinks – two strawberry matchas, an iced coffee, and a scone – as he takes it back to the table, where the group of them are waiting. 

“what took you so long?” sammy asks. 

“you’re so impatient.” sukuna responds, handing the drinks over to the moms and sammy, before splitting his scone in half and handing it over to yuuji. 

“i’m working on that.” sammy grates, giving him an irritated look. 

sukuna smiles. 

sammy was working on that, after he had very graciously given her the number to his therapist after she called him crying asking for it. 

it seemed that sammy had one too many fights with you, hurt mai one too many times, and realized that she was finally ready to let go of lifetime of hurt that she had accrued. anger issues, impatience, and the insurmountable amount of aching that always seemed to take residence in her chest was on its way out. 

with his help. and with yours, even if you didn’t know about it entirely. 

“wait, where’s y/n?” yuuji asks. 

sukuna smiles. 

“she has class.” 

“oh.” yuuji responds. 

sukuna watches as the confusion contorts in his face, albeit, the strange nature of the gathering catching him off guard. both of the moms, sammy, and yuuji were called here for an early morning rendezvous at what might be the only good cafe in their town – play coffee. 

and sukuna would have waited to schedule this for when you were free, if he didn't have something important to ask all of them. a question that you couldn’t necessarily be present for. 

“okay. i’m not treating you all to coffee for no reason.” sukuna states. 

“i fucking told you. he would never be this nice.” sammy whispers over to yuuji, the two of them nodding at one another. 

“you’re so kind, sammy. you have such a way with words.” sukuna deadpans. 

“i live to please.” she resopnds. 

“is everything okay?” mrs. itadori asks. 

sukuna smiles, before reaching over to squeeze her open hand. 

three months prior, his mom was the last person on the very long list of people that he deserved an explanation too. even more than deserved an explanation – but another person who just deserved to know why he left, what he had been through. 

satoru and suguru had taken it really well, satoru offering him one second of seriousness to very earnestly tell him that he was very happy that sukuna had stayed long enough for the two of them to become friends. nanami had shared his own experiences – the two of them being intrinsically closer than before from their shared past – and shoko responded by giving him gummy bears and a hug, which meant more to him than she could really understand. 

it shattered lots of things for yuuji, something that he felt insanely guilty about – for not catching on to all of it sooner. but sukuna could also tell that it had done something for the two of them, to talk about something, whatever it was that they went through together as they were kids, and it only made him love him more. 

and his mom. for the first time, after a very earnest scolding about parenting and responsibility from your mom, was worried about him. he found it a little bit overbearing at times, the way she would call and remind him at night that she loved him very much and that he was her entire world – but the thought was there. and on the days that he found it hard to quiet the voices in his head, it really did make all the difference. 

to hear you remind him. and his mom and yuuji, sammy and everyone else in between. 

“it’s great. i just have to ask for your permission for something, that’s all.” sukuna murmurs. 

sukuna watches their faces drop. he realizes after the fact that it was a bad choice of words – especially for his mom – when they were the exact ones that he used before he left for europe. 

“i’m not moving.” sukuna clarifies. 

“oh thank god.” his mom responds, dramatically pressing her hand to her chest as he rolls her eyes. 

he looks over at the four of them, a simmering warmth in his eyes, as he takes in the looks on their faces. and it seems that in his delay, the most perceptive of the group, has figured out what’s happening all too fast. 

“oh my god. you’re going to do it, aren’t you?” your mom murmurs. 

“what?” sammy asks. 

“you…you’re going to propose?” she asks. 

“what? you’re going to propose? to y/n?” yuuji asks, his voice almost frantic. 

“YOU GUYS ARE GETTING MARRIED?”  his mom squeals, so loud that it earns her a wary look from everyone else in the store. 

sukuna winces as he lifts his hands, beckoning for the group of them to lower their voices, as he reaches into his pocket and places the little green box at the center of the table. sammy’s the first to snatch it, eyes wide and filled with tears as she opens it up, to the little circular cut diamond, set into the golden band that he had picked out almost a year prior – the second you got home from the trip he went on for his birthday.  

he had been holding on to it for a better part of the year. and it was finally time to use it. he was paranoid that he would never get to replace the plastic ring that he gave you, so he figured that he’d buy the real one as soon as he could – just as another solace to himself that he would actually get to do it. 

“wait. you’re really going to propose to her?” sammy whispers. 

“i am. with all of your permission, of course.” sukuna states.  

he watches as they all give him bright smiles, before reaching forward and placing their hands on his. 

“oh, sukuna. of course, you can marry my daughter.” your mom responds, giving him a bright smile 

“holy shit. you’re actually going to be my brother.” sammy states. 

“that’s if y/n says yes.” mrs. itadori states. 

sukuna gives her a glare. 

“what a vote of confidence, mom.” sukuna deadpans. 

“they already wear those plastic rings all the time. they literally think they’re already married in their heads. don’t be annoying, mom.” yuuji responds, huffing an irritated sigh at her as she rolls her eyes back. 

sukuna takes that as a vote for yes. 

“i’m obviously joking. the two of you have no sense of humor.” mrs. itadori responds. 

sukuna turns his head to the side, eyes expectant as he waits for his mom to give a proper response, noting that phenomenon – of getting so emotional that the feelings get crumpled up in your throat is one that he gets from his mom – as she reaches forward, a warm hand on his shoulder as she squeezes. 

“this is all i’ve ever wanted for you. not only because she’s my best friends daughter, but because…well, it’s all you deserve, my sweet boy.” she murmurs. 

he watches as him mom turns her head to the side, shooting an excited smile to your mom, as he notes that the wedding gears are probably turning in both of their heads just from that shared glance. 

“i’ll need a favor from all of you. two from yuuji and sammy.” sukuna states. 

sukuna smiles, before pulling out the little envelope in his pocket, the four of them giving him weary eyes as he opens it up. 

“whatever you need, son.” your mom responds. 

sukuna memorizes that line – the way that she said it – and commits it to memory. 

“you’ll all have to meet us in france first.” 

--

you and yuuji accompany megumi to the tattoo parlor as he gets his first set of ink. it’s a special design that yuuji drew out for him, a set of constellations that the two of them had charted together on one of their first dates together. 

the tattoo parlor still smells the same as you remember it, bright designs printed on the wall and neon lights, as you take in the little room – the magnets on the fridge and the little frames on toji’s desk. you note that there’s a picture that you took a few months prior, of tsumiki and megumi standing next to him. 

“hi toji.” 

you watch as he looks up from his little work station, his tools and guns meticulously organized, as he taps the seat in the middle, giving megumi a bright smile. 

“right here, kid.” 

after the funeral, you had finally found the time to reconcile with megumi about what happened on your birthday. the two of you got dangerously drunk, talking about deadbeat dads and everything in between, before yuuji and sukuna had to drag you out of there on your ass. 

about how your dad forgot you. about how megumi had never talked to his own. about how when they both left, how your moms spoke so little of them that you almost felt like they were ghosts of nothing. and that on most nights, you were filled with such a deep curiosity – of who they were, of what could have been. 

when yuuji dragged the two of you out of there, he had realized how much he had probably annoyed sukuna on the nights that he asked him to do that. 

but it seems that in the horror stories that you had shared with megumi, he realized that he was left with an agonizing amount of questions about his own father that he couldn't ignore. and one day on a whim – he had marched to the tattoo parlor all on his own and asked all of them, basically till toji was free of every answer that he could possibly give. 

and megumi realizded that there was more to the entire situation that met the eye. that there were things his mom had purposely omitted, for reasons he could understand but not get behind. and weirdly enough, by some twist of fate, was now going to reconcile with his own father. 

you were more than supportive. only because whatever strange fatherly advice of figure toji was trying to be for megumi, he was also trying to do for yuuji as well. it filled you with an almost insane amount of joy, that toji was so approving of yuuji, that he thought the two of them were meant to be together. 

and yuuji deserved that – someone who wanted to be his father. that was proud and happy for him for who he chose to love. that liked him just as he was. 

“you ready, megs?” toji asks. 

“yeah. this is the design.” meugmi responds, handing him over the little half sheet that yuuji had drawn out, as toji nods. 

you take toji’s side as he starts to stencil in the little design at his little workstation, yuuji leaning on the side of the little chair as him and megumi talk in hushed tones. 

“hi toji.” 

he glares at you. 

“do i know you?” he asks. 

you roll your eyes, slightly shoving him in the side, as you lean forward, watching him stencil the little design with his purple marker. 

“you’re hilarious, toji.” 

“i’m a part time comedian. i take tips.” 

you fish into your purse, reaching for one of the coins in there, and throw it onto the little tin working space. 

“you’re so generous!” he deadpans. 

“I live to please.” you joke. 

toji smiles, averting his eyes as you follow his gaze. he’s staring at megumi and yuuji, the two of them with their hands locked into together and laughing under their breaths. and you smile, only for toji to glare at the sweet look you’re giving him. 

while he’s just as much of a sap as sukuna, he hates to be up front about it. especially when it comes o you, because you always feel the need to make a comment about it to him. half because you want him to know that you appreciate what he’s doing for both of them. and because it’s really fun to irritate him. 

you imagine this is how satoru feels when he annoys sukuna. 

“shut up.” 

“i didn’t say anything.” you respond. 

“you were saying it with your face.” 

“you’re projecting!” 

toji glares, sketching the shading on the little constellation, as he heaves a sigh. 

“never did thank you, you know.” 

“for?” 

“dunno. telling him about your shit dad. he never would have come here if he didn’t.” 

“well, i for one, love to tell people about my shit dad. it makes for a funny story.” 

toji smiles. 

“he really didn’t recognize ya?” 

you shake your head. 

“he thought i was sukuna’s girlfriend from europe.” you state. 

“do you want me to kill him?” toji asks. 

you laugh. 

“that’s okay. yuuji punched him for me.” 

“eh? cupcake over there? there’s no way” 

you grin. toji very lovingly calls yuuji cupcake – only because the first time yuuji met him, he decided to bring a box of cupcakes that he consequently dropped on the sidewalk before he could even make it to toji’s apartment. 

“that’s right.” 

“no shit. he doesn’t have it in him. he’s so….sunshine and rainbows. like you.” 

“had a full bruised hand and everything! you’re forgetting that he’s sukuna’s brother.” 

“that’s fair.” toji states. 

there’s a pause. 

“speaking of, how is he?” 

“sukuna?” 

toji nods. 

“he’s okay. doing good, i think. i mean, he definitely has days where he’s…where it’s harder than others. but i’m glad that he trying to work on it now, at least try to be a little bit more open about it.” you state. 

“you know, he came into my shop, a shitty little angry sixteen year old begging me to give him a tattoo.” 

“and you broke the law and gave one to him.” you state. 

“yes. but only because at the time, i could…i could tell that he needed that. and i talked to him about stuff here and there, and i sat there and thought about how if my kid was feeling like this, i’d give them that so they wouldn’t do something more drastic. hurt themselves or something, ya know?” 

you frown. 

“yeah.” 

“and well, it’s fucking great. the fucking idiot walks in here smiling all the time. tells you all his weird shit even though he fucking hates doing it, or at least at the time, he did. he even seems more lively or younger or some shit compared to then. whatever it was that was wearing him down back then has long left him. so don’t worry about him too much? that one’s a fighter.” toji states. 

you smile, your heart thumping in your chest. 

“yeah. yeah, he is.” you respond. 

toji gives you a smile, tilting his head to the side as he beckons for you to join him at his megumi’s side. 

--

sukuna’s voice is muffled against your neck, lips warm on your skin, as he whispers. you’re eying the dresses that you have left – a flowery pink pattern and the white silk dress that sammy had picked out with you weeks prior. 

“wear that one.” 

“what?” 

“the white one. the one with the lace shit, that’s long. i want you to wear that one.” sukuna states. 

you frown. 

“i was saving that one.” 

“for?” sukuna grins. 

when sukuna brings you to france, you know that he’s going to propose to you. because on one of the last days of your trip, he’s taking you to the musée de l’orangerie, where monet’s water lilies are. and you know that true to his word, he’s going to propose there, just like he promised you almost a year ago in that dirty tattoo parlor. 

but you can’t say it forthright. that you’re saving the pretty white dress you have for the day that he’s going to propose. because it’s presumptuous to say he's going to propose, and knowing him, the element of surprise is something that he would have wanted maintained. 

but that doesn’t mean that sukuna doesn’t try to goad it out of you. he hints at it all the time – asking you why you save the dress for the end of the trip, why you’re saving some of your better jewelry for the last days, asking why you wanted to get your nails touched up towards the middle of the trip. 

it’s thin ice that the two of you walk on, that neither of you acknowledge. it’s what makes it exciting. 

“wear this one today, okay?” 

you frown, before scaling away to your suitcases, eyeing the dresses that are left in the bag

“wait but…” 

“you’re wearing the white.” sukuna demands. 

“i want to…” 

“wear the white. trust me, you’ll want to wear it today.” sukuna whispers, leaning over the little distance between the two of you, as he offers you a wink. 

you pause, testing the waters. 

“but…we’re going to giverny today.” 

“that’s right.” 

the water lilies are in paris. he can’t be proposing today. 

“you want me to wear this dress…this white dress…to giverny.” 

sukuna grins. 

“yes. the pink one is better for paris. you know i love pink.” 

you sigh, looking down at the fabric. he did have a thing for you in pink. you give in, putting together the outfit – the white dress, the mary jane shoes that sukuna had picked out for you, and a little pearl clip to secure your hair back. 

sukuna’s taking some extreme lengths – pressing his head in between your legs to buckle your shoes, attentively putting the clip in your hair, and pressing soft featherlike kisses to basically any patch of skin that you can find. 

“you’re in a mood today.” 

“i’m just really excited for giverny.” 

you understand the excitement once you get there. giverny’s the smallest little village in the north of france, a little bit of an hour away from where the two of you were staying, and is filled with the brightest, most beautiful flowers that you’ve ever seen in your life. 

you get into town in the early hours of the morning, the two of you giving each other excited smiles as you set out to the little town. the two of you eat breakfast together in the smallest bed and breakfast, sukuna takes an obscene amount of pictures, and you buy a little charm for your bracelet. 

sukuna gets uncharacteristically quiet, a light pink tinge on his cheeks, as he leads you down a winding road, unti you end up at a little house at the end of the way. it’s magnificent – a few people teetering in and out of the doors – as you eye the brick walls and the green window panes. there’s bright pink flowers at the front, muted purples and greens all around, as you look over at him, taken aback by the fact that he’s already looking at you. 

“sukuna?” 

“this is why we’re in giverny.” he murmurs, lightly pulling at your wrist as he takes you in through the middle of the house, offering a spare glance to the people milling around, and taking you through the back. 

his hand is warm in yours as you walk out to the little backyard, a green bridge across the little pools of water, with willowing trees dousing the entire area in the shade of the calm sun. he leads you right to the center of the bridge, the two of you leaning your chins on the tops of your hands as you look down at the water, your little reflections staring back at you. 

“did you notice what’s in the water?” 

you look around, feeling your heart drop in your chest, at the water lilies almost decorating the entire pond – pink flowers with lily pads of green – as you widen your eyes, the wetness glassing over your eyes as you look over at sukuna, who has the softest smile on his face. 

“i know that i’d lost the element of surprise when i told you that i wanted to propose to you at the water lilies in the musée de l’orangerie. i figured the next best thing was taking you to the real water lilies that the painting was based off of.”  

“wait. wait, this is…” 

“claude monet’s house. his garden, more specifically, and the real water lilies from the painting.” 

you pause.

“you’re going to propose.” you state. 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“not exactly.”

you feel your heart drop.

“what?” 

“i’m going to marry you.” 

you feel your throat dry. and your head spin. and your heart pounding in your chest – because surely, he can’t be serious. 

“sukuna?” you whisper. 

he laughs. 

“don’t freak out. but i’m going to marry you.” he repeats, the tenor in his voice so calm that it nearly freaks you out. 

you reach forward, hands on his shoulders as you squeeze hard, the wetness pouring onto your cheeks as you lean forward, smiling. 

“i would love to marry you. i’d do it right now but..but we can’t just..our moms, your outfit and i…” 

sukuna stops you mid sentence. 

“your sister and my brother are here with our moms. they’re actually watching from that bush if you look back.” 

you turn around, following the direction of sukuna’s finger, as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and his voice like honey in your ear as he continues. you see four sets of eyes – and yuuji giving you an embarrassingly wild wave – as sammy yanks him back down. 

“sammy has a veil. she said it’ll hook into the pearl clip that she gifted you. my mom picked wedding rings for us. your mom got ordained. and yuuji decided that he’s going to be the best man and the man of honor for both of us. your mom also has that weird flower shit for me that’s supposed to go on my jacket.” 

“wait…wait you really…” 

“speaking of, as much as i like this plastic ring…” 

sukuna uses his hands to spin you around, until you’re facing him this time, hands pressed against his chest as you look up at him. 

“i told you that i was going to give you a real one.” 

you watch as he reaches into his pocket, plucking the perfect little ring out of the box, as he reaches forward, slipping the plastic green one off of your hand and replacing it with the sparking diamond. the former goes into the depths of his pocket, but you’re too preoccupied with the one he’s just given you. 

you look down at it, at the way it glints in the sun, before looking back up at him, at the smile on his face as he expectantly waits for a response – to everything he’s just laid out in front of you. 

“you’re really doing this? you’re really going to marry me right here?” 

“if you let me.” sukuna responds. 

he pauses, before taking his hands in yours, eyeing and fiddling with the newly replaced ring on your finger before looking back up at you, and smiling. 

“i can’t wait any longer. i did all of this, flew our parents out and our siblings, and made sammy buy you this perfect, beautiful dress because i have to marry you right now. and it’s not because i’m paranoid or because i’m scared you’re going to die on me, but because you’re the love of my life. i want our love to be forever. i know you’re going to live to tomorrow and i am too – but it’s still not good enough for me that we’re not tied together in all the ways people can be tied together.” 

you smile. 

“i just want you to be my wife. you’ve been my everything since forever and i need everyone to know that. my tax forms, the government – i need it written in paper, i need there to be real living proof.” 

you laugh. 

“me too.” you murmur. 

“yeah?” 

“yeah. yeah, i need someone to shout it from the rooftops. i want to send it to the fucking newspaper back home just so everyone knows that you married me and i married you. and i really do want to do it right now.” 

and you watch as he grins – at what may be his first confirmation that everything he planned out is going to come to fruition right now, because you’re going to marry him. and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheeks, hands frantic around your neck and pulling you closer as you lean back, glaring at him. 

“save that for the wedding.” 

“i needed one last kiss from you as my girlfriend.” 

“well, i think that was technically my first kiss as your fiancee? your last kiss with me as your girlfriend was the one this morning. it tasted like french toast.” you state.

he shakes his head. 

“okay, go away now. let sammy put your veil on. and walk back down with her and yuuji, okay?” 

you give him a nod, quickly shuffling to the little bush where all four of them are crouched, nervous eyes as you bend down, giving all of them a smile. 

“are we getting married?” your mom asks. 

“we’re getting married.” you confirm. 

the all cheer, yuuji leaning forward to press a kiss to your head, as you feel the warmth bloom under your cheeks, and they all start nervously panting. your mom starts rehearsing the little lines that she has to say, cards pressed in her hands, as sukuna’s mom pulls out the little box that the rings are in. the two of them nurse sukuna’s boutonniere in their hands, messing with the pin at the back and making sure it’s in place. 

“okay, turn around, i’m putting the veil on. mom, go stand out there with sukuna he looks like a fucking idiot standing there alone. yuuji and i will walk her down.” sammy mutters. 

the two of them nod, quickly running out – but not before giving you a warm kiss on the cheek – as you watch both of them give sukuna a long hug, biting so hard on your cheek that you draw blood when sukuna leans forward, wiping a tear away from your mom’s face. 

you hear a little clicking noise, as sammy starts draping the little frilly veil over your shoulders, her eyes in a deep attentiveness as she comes around, fixing the stray hairs on your forehead and the straps of your dress with frantic hands. and you can’t help but lean forward, wet tears in your eyes, as you burrow your chin into the crook of her shoulder, and squeeze hard. 

“you’re going to walk me down the aisle?” you ask. 

you lean back, sammy giving you a sweet smile before reaching up and cupping the side of your face. 

“i helped you take your first steps. s’only fitting, right?” 

“yeah.” you whisper. 

“and we can’t do it without him either, of course. naturally, you’re going to be attached at the hip until the end.” sammy mutters. 

and you turn to your left, where yuuji’s uncharacteristically quiet at your side with wide eyes, hands nervously fidgeting in his pockets at his side as you shoot him a warning glance. 

“you okay?” 

“i was friends with you when you literally had no fucking teeth. and now you’re just getting married. to my brother.” 

you smile. 

“do you have a problem with that?” 

yuuji rolls his eyes. 

“i don’t like to share.” 

and he pauses, before leaning forward, his hands featherlike on your shoulder. 

“i know this is really weird, but i…i feel like i’m giving you away.” yuuji mumbles. 

you laugh. 

“i feel like you’re giving me away too. you…you’ve been the only person around in my life, in the same way, basically forever. you’re really the only person whose approval matters to me.” 

he smiles. 

“we’ve both spent a good amount of our lives just with each other. but i’m glad that you’ve opened up space for a few more. and i have to. and for sukuna of all people, who fucking adores you. i’m half mad i didn’t think of it myself earlier, but you’re perfect for each other.” 

“thank you, yuuji.” 

“and this is the perfect scheme. you’re going to be my sister. we can upgrade the term soulmate to soul sister now.” 

“deal.” you whisper.

you both laugh, as yuuji holds his hand out to you, which you tuck your hand into before pressing a kiss to his cheek. the two of them look to you for confirmation, before you leave your little spot behind the bush, your little heels clicking against the wood of the bridge, as sukuna stands in between your moms, a hand pressed to his chest, and he cries freely.

his mom hands you the rings, two simple golden bands. and your mom seals the words, that tie you together forever.

--

four days later, you finally do make it to musée de l’orangerie. sukuna drags you towards the back – to the painting from the blue and purple background that’s been on your computer for years – as you both tangle your arms together, fingers adored with your newly minted rings. 

it feels dangerously full circle to sukuna. 

that he had visited years prior, alone with headphones shoved into his ears, and stood there alone thinking about you. about how he wanted to live, about how he was going to move past everything that had happened to him – and at the very least, return to japan someday and see you again. 

and he stood there, wondering what you would be like. if you liked the same music, if you watched the same shows. if you still ate cinnamon raisin french toast and wore ribbons in your hair. 

and at that point, he knew he wasn’t going to return to japan for another few years, but when he did – he was at the very least, going to be determined to find the answers, in the most natural way he could. that somehow, the two of you would end up near each other, at the same restaurant or at the same bar, and he’d get to ask. 

“what are you thinking about?”  you whisper. 

sukuna looks down, at your head resting against his shoulder, and leans forward, pressing an absentminded kiss to your forehead. 

“that this time around, you’re standing here with me.” 

that he got to put a ring on your finger. that he knows you don’t listen to the same type of music as him but you do have the same taste in shows – even if you have different favorite seasons. you like french toast when he makes it and think the ribbons fall better when he places them in your hairband for you. 

you love him. and he loves you back.

--

an: a very long love letter to this beloved fic. this has been six months of one of the sweetest things i've ever written. this fic is literally so special to me for so many reasons bc it's pushed me so many ways in figuring out how I like to write and express my feelings -- and i've put so much of myself and my real struggles of good old life into it. needless to say that all of the sweet comments and love that i've received on this have every bit worth it. this goofy little one shot took a life of it's own from all the love you've all given me on it and i'm so glad we ended up here together 💌 (and I promise, i'll actually write dream girl actor sukuna now, I just had to finish this one up properly)

and a beloved kiss to my lovely @babiemay who enabled this original brain rot in the first place. you are a star.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

[otherkinnews]

Republicans introduce a 7th anti-furry bill and work to undermine student freedoms on a wider scale

(This blog post was written by Orion Scribner and N. Noel Sol, originally posted on February 18, 2024 to the Otherkin News Dreamwidth, at this link.)

Content warnings: Rated G. An urban legend that describes an unsanitary situation. Sexism against transgender people, including attempts to prevent them from participating in sports and using facilities like everyone else, and attempts to stop them from transitioning.

Summary: In 2023, Republicans began to propose laws (bills) in the US that would be against people who identify as animals. They base these on an urban legend that says schools provide litter boxes for students who identify as animals. Republicans made up that legend in parody of transgender students asking to use school restrooms (Scribner and Sol, 2024). The newest of these bills is Missouri House Bill 3678 (MO HB 2678). It’s the third such bill in 2024, bringing the historic total of these bills up to seven. This bill was written as part of a Republican effort to undermine public schools (which can’t ban transgender students from using the right restrooms, and students have First Amendment rights) in favor of religious charter schools (where students aren’t protected in those ways). The following blog post is a seven minute read.

What the Missouri bill says

Missouri House Bill 3678 (MO HB 2678) has the title “Prohibits students from engaging in ‘furry’ behavior while at school.” You can read this bill and see the latest actions on its official site, the Missouri House of Representatives, or on a third-party legislation tracking site, LegiScan. This bill was introduced this week, on February 13th, and read a second time on the 14th. It would add a law into the Revised Statutes of Missouri (RSMo). It would go in the part of the state laws about education, in Chapter 167, titled “Pupils and Special Services.” It would say:

“A student who purports to be an imaginary animal or animal species or who engages in anthropomorphic behavior consistent with the common designation of a ‘furry’ while at school shall not be allowed to participate in school curriculum or activities. The parent or guardian of a student in violation of this section shall remove the student from the school for the remainder of the school day.”

The same as the other bills like it, this bill is based on an urban legend, not on anything that was done in real life by students, furries, and/or people who identify as animals (McKinney, 2022a). This bill's wording looks like it was based on a bill from another state, Oklahoma House Bill 3084 (OK HB 3084), or its predecessor last year, Oklahoma Senate Bill 943 (OK SB 943). It shares their inaccuracies: though there are real people who identify as animals, surveys show that most furries don’t, and the dictionary definition of the word “anthropomorphic” means resembling a human, not resembling an animal (Scribner and Sol, 2024).

Who wrote the bill, and what is its context with that author’s other motivations?

The Missouri bill’s only sponsor (writer) is Cheri Toalson Reisch (she/her). She is a Missouri Republican who has supported anti-transgender bills in the past. One of those is MO SB 39, which would ban transgender students from participating in their gender’s sports division (both in private and public schools, up to and including in colleges and universities). Another one is MO SB 49. It would bar minors from accessing gender transition related surgeries or medications, removes adult coverage of hormone replacement therapy and any gender-affirming or transitioning surgeries from the Missouri Medicaid program, and denies prisoners and inmates access to any surgeries related to gender transitioning. She described both these bills as a “great move in the right direction,” and has been vocally critical that they were not harsher (Central MO Info, 2023).

Reisch is familiar with the urban legend started by conservatives of students using litter boxes in school bathrooms. She has posted about it on Facebook, telling her constituents that it is actively happening in Missouri and accusing the Columbia school district of taking part in it, stating “This is happening in Columbia Public Schools also. Yes, the janitor has to clean the litter box” (McKinney, 2022a). That's never happened. Schools say they have not been providing litter boxes to students in this way, and even deny that they have had any students identifying or behaving as animals, according to reliable fact checking resources (Reuters, 2022; Palma, Snopes, 2023).

Reisch has a history of being especially critical of the Columbia school district, which is one of the largest and most successful school districts in the state (McKinney, 2022b). She’s used this urban legend to attack the district’s legitimacy. This may be because Reisch prioritizes independently-run charter schools over standard public schools. Earlier this year, she sponsored MO HB 1941, which would allow for charter schools to operate within the Columbia school district without the district’s sponsorship.

Why are Republicans criticizing public schools and favoring charter schools?

In the US, the normal types of schools for children up to about age 18 are called public schools. Families don’t have to pay for their children to attend them. They represent the ideal that everyone growing up in the country should have equal access to school, regardless of income, class, race, religion, or ability. Because public schools are government establishments, the US Constitution protects the students’ rights there. The First Amendment of the Constitution protects the freedom of speech and religion of everyone, and that’s for students in public schools, too. In the landmark 1969 case Tinker v. Des Moines Independent Community School District, students sued because they had gotten suspended for wearing black armbands to protest the Vietnam War. The Supreme Court decided that it would be as tyrannical to prevent students from expressing political opinions within public schools as it would be in any other government establishments. The Court said students don’t “shed their constitutional rights to freedom of speech or expression at the schoolhouse gate.” In 1948, McCollum v. Board of Education had decided that public schools can’t give religious instruction during the school day. In 1962, Engel v. Vitale decided they can’t make students pray (Pew Research Center, 2019). Public school dress codes often aren’t as fair as they should be, but for the most part, their students can wear what they want and what their parents allow.

In contrast, what are known as charter schools in the US are privately owned, so they’re allowed to have requirements or education goals which would be considered a violation of the First Amendment. Some of them have religious affiliations and may be owned or operated by religious organizations. This can affect the way the school is run. For example, Oklahoma charter St. Isidore of Seville Catholic Virtual School has planned Catholic religious instruction classes, and the school’s active and intentional participation in what it refers to as “the evangelizing mission of the Church” (Fitzpatrick, 2023). Charter school dress codes can be much more strict. They are often segregated by gender stereotypes, forcing girls to wear skirts and boys trousers, no exceptions. This has been challenged in some places against specific schools, such as in North Carolina earlier this year in a lawsuit against the Charter Day School Inc (Chung, 2023). These challenges are the outlier and not the norm, however; gender-segregated dress codes are still a very common practice for charter schools overall. Charter schools also require applications and choose students based on random lottery systems. However, studies find that charter schools are more likely to ignore parents inquiring about the enrollment process if the student has a disability or other special needs (Darville, 2018). Unlike public schools, they don’t welcome everyone.

The freedom of expression in public schools is important for transgender students. In 2020, the case ​​G.G. v. Gloucester County School Board decided in favor of transgender-friendly restroom policies in high schools. This precedent helps protect transgender students’ rights in public schools, but doesn’t apply to charter schools. During the course of the case, the Conservative Legal Defense and Education Fund told the Court why to decide against transgender rights. In an effort to invalidate transgender people, the Fund compared transgender people to otherkin. The Fund used the word “otherkin,” and described them at length, mostly accurately but derisively (Brief Amicus Curiae, 2017, G.G. v. Gloucester Cty Sch Bd). This case was part of what inspired the Republicans to later make up the litter box urban legend. We don’t know if that particular brief inspired the legend too.

Republicans may be promoting charter schools because this would give them greater control over impressing their views about gender, religion, and politics on young generations. They may be undermining public schools because the separation of church and state limits their power to do so there. The urban legend and these bills are part of that.

Background about all of the furry bills and the urban legend that inspired them

To learn about this year’s first two anti-furry bills, read our post about them from last week (Scribner and Sol, 2024). That post also summarizes the four anti-furry bills last year, and the litter box urban legend. For further information about those aspects, you can watch our lecture about last year’s bills and what you do about bad bills (Chimeras, Scribner, and Shepard, 2023), and watch Chimeras’s lecture about the litter box urban legend (Chimeras, 2022).

What happens next with Reisch’s anti-furry bill?

The bill is at 25% progression toward becoming a law. The House heard the bill twice, but it hasn’t been voted on. At the time that we write this blog post, they haven’t scheduled the bill’s next hearing.

About the writers of this blog post

We are Orion Scribner (they/them) and N. Noel Sol (she/they), a couple of dragons. We never write articles with the assistance of procedural generation or so-called artificial intelligence (AI), and that type of content isn’t allowed on Otherkin News.

References

“Brief Amicus Curiae of Public Advocate of the United States, U.S. Justice Foundation, and Conservative Legal Defense and Education Fund in Support of Petitioner.” Gloucester County School Bd. v. G. G. ex rel. Grimm, No. 16-273, 2017 WL 192454 (Jan. 10, 2017). http://files.eqcf.org/cases/16-273-amicus-brief-public-advocate-et-al/

Central MO Info (May 19, 2023). “Representative Toalson Reisch Disappointed in Senate’s Version of Trans Bills.” Central MO Info. https://www.centralmoinfo.com/representative-toalson-reisch-disappointed-in-senates-version-of-trans-bills/

Chung, Andrew (June 26, 2024). “US Supreme Court turns away case on charter school's mandatory skirts for girls.” Reuters. https://www.reuters.com/legal/us-supreme-court-turns-away-case-charter-schools-mandatory-skirts-girls-2023-06-26

Darville, Sarah (Dec. 21, 2018). “Want a charter school application? If your child has a disability, your questions more likely to be ignored, study finds.” Chalkbeat. https://www.chalkbeat.org/2018/12/21/21106398/want-a-charter-school-application-if-your-child-has-a-disability-your-questions-more-likely-to-be-ig/

Engel v. Vitale, 370 U.S. 421 (1962). https://caselaw.findlaw.com/court/us-supreme-court/370/421.html

Fitzpatrick, Cara (Sept. 9, 2023). “The Charter-School Movement’s New Divide.” The Atlantic. https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2023/09/charter-schools-religion-public-secular/675293/

G.G. v. Gloucester County School Board. 972 F.3d 586 (4th Cir. 2020). https://casetext.com/case/grimm-v-gloucester-cnty-sch-bd-8

House of Chimeras (Aug. 12, 2022). "Litter Boxes in School Bathrooms: Dissecting the Alt-Right’s Current Moral Panic." OtherCon. https://youtu.be/WVjXOmN2IlU

House of Chimeras, Orion Scribner, and Page Shepard (2023). “Litter Box Hoax 2: Legislature Boogaloo.” OtherCon 2023. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsXy_ctC4Jc&t=1425s

Legiscan. MO HB 2678. https://legiscan.com/MO/bill/HB2678/2024

Legiscan. MO HB 1941. https://legiscan.com/MO/bill/HB1941/2024

Mccollum v. Board Of Education, 333 U.S. 203 (1948). https://caselaw.findlaw.com/court/us-supreme-court/333/203.html

McKinney, Rodger (Aug. 25, 2022). “State Rep. Cheri Reisch criticized for 'unwarranted' claim that CPS students use litterboxes.” Columbia Daily Tribune. https://www.columbiatribune.com/story/news/politics/elections/local/2022/08/25/state-rep-cheri-reisch-criticized-for-unwarranted-claim-that-cps-columbia-students-use-litterboxes/7895082001/

McKinney, Rodger (Feb. 6, 2022). “State Rep. Cheri Reisch states 'Columbia sucks' when referring to public schools in education hearing” Columbia Daily Tribune. https://www.columbiatribune.com/story/news/education/2022/02/06/cheri-reisch-states-columbia-sucks-when-referring-to-cps-in-education-hearing-mo-leg-basye/6662719001/

Missouri House of Representatives. MO HB 2678. https://house.mo.gov/Bill.aspx?bill=HB2678&year=2024&code=R

Missouri Senate. MO SB 49. https://www.senate.mo.gov/23info/BTS_Web/Bill.aspx?SessionType=R&BillID=44407

Missouri Senate. MO SB 39. https://senate.mo.gov/23info/BTS_Web/Bill.aspx?SessionType=R&BillID=44496

Palma, Bethania. (January 30, 2023). “How Furries Got Swept Up in Anti-Trans 'Litter Box' Rumors.” Snopes. https://www.snopes.com/news/2023/01/30/how-furries-got-swept-up-in-anti-trans-litter-box-rumors/ Archived on March 30, 2023. https://web.archive.org/web/20230330232007/https://www.snopes.com/news/2023/01/30/how-furries-got-swept-up-in-anti-trans-litter-box-rumors/

Pew Research Center (Oct. 3, 2019). “Religion in the Public Schools.” https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2019/10/03/religion-in-the-public-schools-2019-update/

Reuters Fact Check (October 18, 2022). “Fact Check-No evidence of schools accommodating ‘furries’ with litter boxes.” https://www.reuters.com/article/factcheck-furries-rogan-litterbox-idUSL1N31J1KT Archived February 13, 2023. https://web.archive.org/web/20230213110524/https://www.reuters.com/article/factcheck-furries-rogan-litterbox-idUSL1N31J1KT

Scribner, Orion, and N. Noel Sol (Feb. 9, 2024). “Will Oklahoma Call Animal Control on Students?” Otherkin News. https://otherkinnews.dreamwidth.org/92680.html Tinker v. Des Moines Independent Community School District, 393 U.S. 503 (1969). https://openjurist.org/393/us/503

[astupidweeb69]

Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 9

Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Author’s Note: I've been rereading this chapter for about a week trying to edit it, but decided I'd just go ahead and post it. Happy holidays everybody!

Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.

Warnings: Swearing. Descriptions of Gore. Some threats of violence. (2,070 words)

____________________________________________________________

Leaves crunched underneath heavy boots, ragged and irritated breaths came out in clouds against the cold. 

Toby was not pleased.

Not pleased with how things were going with you.

And not pleased with being texted by Tim.

Apparently there was some work to do and he had to ‘get his lazy ass over there’. The young proxy didn’t even know the details of what needed to be done. A supply run? Some more random campers in the area? Either way Toby was itching for a fight. 

He could feel anger in his system bubbling and ready to boil over. Just imagining Tim’s smug face waiting for him, probably ready to spat some nonsense about how ‘he’s late’ or make a snide comment on his appearance. His face twitched furiously at the idea, and if anyone was unfortunate enough to see the way he walked through the woods now, they’d surely run in the other direction. There was murder in the man’s eyes. 

It wouldn’t take long for Toby to find his teammate. That’s how things always worked though, they had a connection to find each other when they were supposed to, all he needed to do was walk mindlessly in a direction and let the forest guide him.

“Someone’s in a pissy mood.”

The smell of smoke let him know he found who he was looking for. Tim leaned on a tree, a wry smile on his face, a lit cigarette burning away at his fingertips. It was practically an extension of his hand at this point, the fucking chainsmoker. Toby learned to hate the scent of tobacco.

“Where’s Brian?” Toby frowned, ignoring Tim’s comment.

“Had something he needed to do.”

Tim looked disinterested in the conversation. Getting him to actually tell Toby what was going on was like pulling teeth. And Toby knew first hand how hard that could be.

“Suh-so? Why’d you cuh-call me out here?” The younger proxy fidgeted with the ends of his gloves.

Tim sighed, letting the last part of his cigarette drop to the ground, putting it out with his boot. “There’s been some weird things happening out here. Brian said you should come with me to investigate.” 

Toby made note of how he said ‘Hoodie’. Tim’s way of hinting that he didn’t want him there. Typical.

“Wuh-what do you mean weird things?”

Tim motioned with his head for him to follow, walking away into some bushes, Toby raised one of his eyebrows before complying. There was a rancid stench in the air when he started following him, like something died. Not uncommon in the forest, but it was hard to stomach even for the most experienced woodsman. 

They followed the smell of rotting flesh, down a small embankment. The dead leaves on the ground made it hard not to slip and fall, and Toby snickered when Tim lost his footing a couple times, making the older proxy shoot him a dirty look. 

“There up ahead.” After walking a few paces, Tim pointed to a mangled pile of fur splayed out against a group of pine trees. 

Toby’s eyes narrowed at the bloody mess in front of him, turning to the other man in irritation. 

“You dragged me out here for a duh-dead deer?”

“Take a closer look, Rogers.”

Toby shoved past Tim, making a point to bump into his shoulder for using the nickname he hated. He pulled up the mouthguard hanging from his neck to cover his nose, but it didn’t block out the smell nearly as much as he’d hoped. It took a lot of willpower not to gag.

He scanned over the remains noting different sized bite marks and scratches that tore through the animal's belly, viscera pooling out and its black lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. A swarm of maggots had already started the process of decay. 

Toby could see the red of Tim’s flannel out the corner of his eye.

“Well?”

“Okay, it’s a luh-little strange. I’ll give you that. The bite muh-marks look like they came from a  human.”

“Anything else, detective?” Tim mused, clearly noticing something else but liked toying with the kid.

“Just fucking spit it out.”

The older man kneeled down, motioning to two different spots on the deer's hind legs. “They’re all different sizes, meaning more than one person did this.”

“Cuh-cool.” Toby deadpanned. “So what does that mean for us?” 

“It means we need to keep an eye out for groups of ravin’ lunatics.”

“Don’t we already duh-do that?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. This is the second animal we’ve found like this in a week.”

“And yuh-you only thought to tell me now?”

“I was busy.” Tim shrugged, the corner of his lip curling up slightly. The man did not give two shits about warning Toby sooner. Probably didn’t even want to tell him now. If anything, Brian most likely had to convince him to.

The younger proxy scowled at him, tempted to escalate things, to cause another one of their fights ending with the two trying to claw the others' eyes out. Not that it would hurt him, and Toby always got some sick amusement seeing Tim in pain. But it would be dark soon, and he was itching to get back home. The thought of you back there tied up on his bed was making him scratch at his scar. 

He needed to spend more time with you. The look in your eyes as he paced around the cabin…. The look of fear and hatred. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still bugged him. You were… a bit more of a firecracker than he’d hoped. And level-headed unfortunately. You were catching on a little too quickly, to just how…. Temperamental he could be. The memory of you staring at his hatchets came back to him. He needed you to see his softer side, needed you to warm up to him before the truth, the real truth, about what he was came out. Maybe if he stole an old TV and got some of those movies you liked….

“Rogers!”

A finger snapped inches from his face. Toby blinked.

“Wuh-What?” 

“I told you we need to get goin’” Tim pushed Toby forward impatiently. “It’s almost night time. Come on.”

He could hear Tim muttering “Fuckin’ useless kid.” under his breath as he led the way.

Toby’s stomach twisted. That phrase got to him. Was something he’d heard a lot, from somewhere before, something in his past. Something familiar. Tim taunted him in ways that sparked a deep resentment, like an itch he could never fully scratch. A scab that wouldn’t heal.

They walked back the way they came in, up the hill and through the thick bushes, without saying a word. One thing they could agree on was the less they talked, the better.

Luckily Toby’s cabin wasn’t too far. Fiddling with the ends of his jacket, combing his hair, absentmindedly, he was glad to be rid of the old fucker finally and get back to what was important.

But things never worked out the way he wanted.

Toby felt a hand on his arm. Tim lit up another cigarette, his eyes narrowed at Toby, before taking a long, deep, drag into his lungs. .

Smoke billowed from the man’s mouth, surrounding him in a thick cloud as he spoke.

“Before you go, I need somethin’ from your cabin.”

Fuck.

Toby stared at him for a moment. His mind went blank, before finally speaking up.

“Wuh-what do you need?” 

He’d just act normal. It wouldn’t be a big deal. He could figure something out.

“Hoods and I are running low on some supplies. We know Kate keeps some of her stuff in your basement. Figured we’d borrow some things.” 

The boy twitched and fidgeted under the pressure, trying to come up with ways to get out of it. If Tim saw you… Toby didn’t even want to think about what he’d do. He honestly didn’t know.

“What… kuh-kind of things-sss?” Shit. His stutter was getting worse.

Tim raised a brow. Likely annoyed by how standoffish the other proxy was being at something simple.

“Like food n’ ammo. We’ve been too busy to go into town.” Tim paused, and looked almost accusingly at him. “And I know you’ve been leaving the forest a lot recently.”

Toby chewed on the side of his cheek. Of course the other proxies sensed his disappearance. He’d been too preoccupied with you to even think about that being a possibility. That didn’t mean they cared when he was gone, they weren’t his babysitter. But now Tim had him over a barrel. There was no way he could deny him supplies now, without admitting the reason he went into town was for… something out of the ordinary.

“Fuh-fine.” He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Just duh-don’t touch any of my stuff.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

______________________________________________________________

The cabin was just up ahead. Toby kept glancing back at Tim who seemed too preoccupied in his own thoughts to notice.

“Whuh-wait outside for a second. There’s suh-something I need to take care of first.” 

Tim eyed him carefully. They both stood on the porch, tension rising, Tim’s body stiffening and his hands balling into fists for a brief moment. Toby fully expecting him to lash out. 

Tim always thought the boy was weird. Fucked up in the head. Overly-emotional, unstable, obnoxious, and he’s seen the worst of Toby’s manic episodes. He was almost certain the kid engaged in some light cannibalism, from the way he mumbled to himself in his delusional states. He was so fucking glad they didn’t live under the same roof anymore.

Finally, after a few moments of staring the other down, Tim relaxed. “Whatever, just don’t take too long.”  The older man decided he’d do whatever it took to get the fuck outta there, even if that meant having to obey. Despite how much that bruised his ego, he just wanted to go home and sleep.

Toby quickly went inside, slamming the door behind him, and Tim sat on the steps of the porch with a reluctant grunt.

Twitching anxiously, he ran into the room where you were tied to the bed. You jumped, obviously startled, by the door aggressively being opened. Normally he’d mock you, wanting to give a fake ‘awwww’ at how freaked out you were by his presence. He was still mad about how you've been treating him. But he didn’t have the time for that right now.

He opened the drawer to his nightstand, getting out an old t-shirt.

“Wha-” You started to question, but he cut you off by shoving the cloth in your mouth painfully. He tied it around your head, a little too tight, but he needed to make sure you were properly gagged and wouldn’t be heard.

Toby leaned down to your ear, speaking in a low hiss. “You nuh-need to be fucking quiet. I have a guest. He’s dangerous, so don’t get any ideas. No one’s coming to save you.”

He gripped your jawline tightly. “Do you uh-understand?” You stared back at him. Toby narrowed his eyes, tightening his hold on your face even more, until you finally nodded your head.

He released his hand and exited the room, mentally preparing himself to interact with Tim again, and with a deep breath, opened the front door.

“Okay, you can cuh-come in now.”

Tim groaned as he got up to follow him inside. 

Toby couldn’t help letting his eyes dart to his bedroom door when they walked past. He led Tim down the hall where the basement stairs were, which he started keeping locked the day he captured you. He didn’t need you to see what was down there. Hopefully not ever.

After Toby unlocked the door and showed him the various backpacks stolen from victims, Tim rummaged through a couple before collecting the items he needed. Mostly food, a couple old boxes of ammo. Nothing special.

His heart was pounding when they climbed the stairs again, so close to getting this over with. Wanting nothing more than to have him out of the house. Away from you.

But without warning, Tim stopped in the hallway, 

It was so sudden Toby almost bumped into his back.

“Whuh-what is it?”

There was a dangerously long pause, before Tim’s head turned to look behind his shoulder. Toby's eyes widened in fear.

“Did you hear that?”

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (8)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Authors' Note: Implied torture and mild gore ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 8: The Chantry

He should’ve known you would be sharp enough to pick up on his remark about the suitor back at the cafe. Damn him and his big mouth. Well, you would’ve gotten wind of it somehow anyway, especially since Wesker had put you on this case with him too.

You waited patiently for his answer, as you saw a range of emotions sweep across Leon’s face. Unlike his compatriot, Luis, he was not a great talker. You’d experienced that first hand when he tried to reveal his nature to you.

“I don’t know who he is exactly, but most likely a higher-ranking Anarch,” he divulged, eyeing you intently to gauge your reaction. “The guy wanted to use you as a way to bring the East Side under their domain.”

A bunch of mixed feelings churned within you as you lamented the fact that just when you were beginning to reach an understanding with the man, fate decided to throw another roadblock in your path. “So, you Embraced me first to prevent that,” you deduced, the hurt in your voice evident as you made the following observation, “Was I just some political tool to you?”

“No, angel—” he caught himself as he accidentally let slip his term of affection for you. “You have never been, and will never be, a tool to me.”

Reaching over, he laid his hand protectively atop yours, tracing delicate patterns across its back. To his surprise, you didn’t berate him for using that pet name, nor did you shy away from his touch. Perhaps you had given in, your fire extinguished to smoky cinders.

“You know I feel a great deal for you… and regardless of what you may think, I’ve always wanted you to have a say in your Embrace,” he reiterated undeniably.

You bit your lip, still doubtful of his words. “What would you have done if I had said no?”

There was a thoughtful pause before he replied, “Probably be devastated, but I could never force you. Not like that.”

With a bitter laugh, he commented further, “I might’ve killed that son of a bitch before he got to you though.”

All at once, you were reminded of the side that made him inhuman, talking about murder as if it were a normal part of his daily routine. It irked you, but it also comforted you that he would do anything to keep you safe.

“And risk Final Death?” you asked, wondering if he was joking, or if he really would break the last of the Traditions for you. Unless the Prince had issued a Blood Hunt on a specific individual or group of Kindred, he would be forbidden to destroy another of his kind.

“Would’ve been worth it,” he quipped under his breath, his searing gaze unabashedly roaming across your body, following every contour of your silhouette as he admired what was before him. 

You wore things differently from his sire, which was all he had ever known. When he reminisced about Ada, bold, bright reds, like a fountain of blood, flooded his mind. Blood which he drank from every Sunday, worshiping martyrs and sacrifices, up until the point he had strayed. Blood which gave him a taste of life and death, anger and passion, lust and love. Blood from a broken hymen on bleached white sheets, like the innocence he’d lost when he stepped into the underworld. Blood drained from a pig to drench him in when he was hazed, the resulting humiliation he had felt after and his reddened cheeks, just like the shame that carved out a hole within him when Ada left. His throat tightened, just like the way her clothes hugged her body like a boa constrictor.

And then there was you, in emerald greens, deep burgundies and swatches of black — duller, yet no less luminescent beneath the surface. Something he had to work for, digging to unearth the gem of humanity he had squandered away over restless nights and bouts of insomnia. Your flowy dress robes and kaftans transported him to gap year adventures under the starry skies in Morocco, sand filling your shoes, and the scorching heat on the desert breeze. He had never been, never left the city since he was turned. But he loved to imagine a future where he could travel there with you. Dancing with wild abandon, in dark kohl eyeliner and that carefree smile. God, that smile… and your fire. You could captivate him for days. He never thought he could feel so intensely for another person again, but he was wrong — and he was glad to be.

From your end, you regarded him with reservation. The love he declared for you bordered on instinctual passion and obsession, and you couldn’t decide if you found it flattering or problematic. As a Toreador by blood, would you end up like him? It was still early days, yet he treated you as if he had been pining after you for a century. You wondered if this was just a temporary, fleeting thing and he would eventually tire of you in time to come.

Almost as though he could read your mind, he broke away, avoiding eye contact with you as he apologized, “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Adjusting his collar awkwardly, he cleared his throat, coming back to his senses as he uttered, “We should, um, discuss about the Tremere.”

You nodded in agreement, dabbing your palms against your forehead and cheeks, letting the coolness seep into your warm, flustered skin. “So, I’m guessing you found something?”

“Not quite,” he sighed, gently rubbing the temples at the sides of his head.

Pushing himself up off the couch, he went over to his desk, grabbed a bunch of papers, and handed them over to you. Thumbing through the sheets, you briefly scanned its contents, realizing it was a shift schedule of all the Umbrella scientists based in NEST, as well as a couple of reports, though signed under a different name from the person you were meant to get in contact with.

Ms. Rebecca Chambers. The up-and-coming Tremere prodigy who had recently returned from a stint at the Hartford Chantry, renowned for their work on mind and memory alterations. Like the rest of the clans, the Tremere were a secretive sort, and even more so. They guarded their research and activities closely within their base of operations, known as chantries. Leon had mentioned to you about their adeptness in matters of the blood or ‘Blood Sorcery’ as it was named. They had once been a group of mages who discovered immortality through undeath, though they had wrangled their power at the expense of other Kindred. No wonder Jill had called them ‘ursupers’. You didn’t like the sound of their schemes and ploys either.

“Rebecca’s not in any of the schedules, and there’s no trace of her anywhere, even though she works directly under Wesker,” he put forth. “She’s not even credited in the projects she’s meant to be researching on.”

“It’s all signed off by this guy: Glenn… Arias?” you took a shot at pronouncing his name while flicking through the pages.

“Yeah, that’s her Regent,” he pointed out. “And a jealous one at that.”

“What do you mean?” You stopped rummaging, peering at Leon with a quizzical look.

“Well, word has it that he intends to hold onto his position for as long as he’s unliving. Meaning, capable apprentices are considered a threat to be dealt with,” he expunged.

“But he can’t just make someone relatively high-profile like Rebecca disappear,” you stated, pinching your chin in a thinker’s pose. All this sleuthing reminded you of those classic black-and-white noir films from the 1940s. Pity you were missing the whiskey and cigars.

“Yes, he can,” he insisted, pacing the room like a lead detective hot on the case. “He’s already doing it now — scrubbing out her achievements, making sure she leaves an invisible trail, and hoping that she’ll be forgotten among the sea of neonates who dazzled a little too brightly.”

“And of course the fucker is taking all the credit for her work,” you sneered, disliking this guy already before you even met him.

“Looks like you and I have something in common then,” he noted with a lopsided smile. He hated the man as much as you did. “Unfortunately this leaves us with no choice. If we want to get to Rebecca, then we’ll need to go through the fucker.”

You slumped back into the couch, your weight causing the upholstery to mold to your body. “Gonna need a whiskey beforehand.”

Shaking his head as he laughed, he took a seat on the coffee table directly opposite the couch facing you. “Sure, just be prepared to throw it up an hour later.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

When nightfall came the next day, you found yourself sulking in the passenger seat of Leon’s jeep as he drove towards the northwest of Raccoon City, heading straight into Raccoon Forest. It would be several miles before you’d reach your destination. In the background, grunge rock music from one of the local radio stations played at a low volume through the car speakers. Resting your head against the window, you heard Leon humming along to the melody as he tapped the steering wheel in time with the steady beat of the track.

“Funny, didn’t take you as a rock’n’roll kinda guy,” you muttered, still peering out of the glass pane, unwilling to look at the man who you were dead certain was wearing a giant smirk on his face right now.

“Glad I can continue to surprise you then,” he answered jovially. “I was young and rebellious once you know.”

“You? A rebel? Please…” you scoffed, rolling your eyes so far back into your head you probably could’ve popped them out of your sockets if you wanted to.

Instead of replying, he belted out the chorus lyrics in his annoyingly smooth voice. Frankly, you were a little sore about your exchange earlier back at his place when he had kept his word, and allowed you to have a sip from a cask of fine French whiskey stored in his vitrine. The problem was, he didn’t tell you that it would taste like shit.

Seeing as your undead body wouldn’t be able to digest it, you were prepared to risk throwing up just to have a shot of alcohol running through your veins. However, it turned out that everything except wine would taste like ashes and dirt. You didn’t even need to force yourself to regurgitate the contents; you did it naturally, spewing it out like a spray while Leon howled with laughter. Some fucking joke that was. Asshole.

“Still pissed off, huh?” he questioned. You could sense a hint of remorse in his voice.

“Take a guess.”

You felt his fingers brush against your arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. Sometimes I get a bit carried away,” he whispered apologetically, his tone subdued, as if he was a dog who’d been chastised.

“Mm.” You pursed your lips, shrugging noncommittally.

“If you want, I can teach you how to be able to enjoy things like before,” he offered as a form of consolation. “But to experience the effects of alcohol, you’ll need to drink from the inebriated.”

Finally, you faced him to catch his midnight blue gaze, and he gave a weak smile. “Time for me to get wasted then.”

He took that as a sign that you had forgiven him, and you were back to bantering again. “No drinking on the job,” he warned.

“Yes, boss.”

With that, you turned your attention to the changing scenery outside, which blurred past your window. Gone were the city lights in the distance; you were now deep within the thicket of the forest. Tree branches shaped like claws scraped the sides of the vehicle and peculiar winged creatures flew in and out of the shadows. The only source of light was the car's beam, focused directly on the path ahead. At times, you thought you could make out pairs of glowing red eyes from the bushes in the dark surrounding you. Clutching the door armrest, you felt pinpricks of cold sweat forming on your palms, and you couldn’t wait for this segment of the journey to end.

As you reached a clearing, you saw the pale moonlight gleaming overhead through the clouded sky, its pearlescent light casting a silvery sheen across everything in sight. That’s when you spotted the imposing mansion in front of you as the car made its way up the driveway. There was a bluish tinge to its white-painted exterior, and although the building was well-kept, there was a decaying quality to it, as if it had been abandoned by its owners decades ago. You observed its towering columns and large lancet windows, noting the intricate details carved into the eaves of the roof. Who knew there was a mysterious grand manor situated in the middle of nowhere within the woods? You felt like an extra in a B-movie horror film.

After parking the car, you and Leon hopped out of the vehicle, walking over towards the main entrance of the house. Except for the sound of gravel crunching underfoot, it was eerily silent and nothing stirred. It began to dawn on you why the place was so unnerving: there was no rustling of animals or chirping of insects; it was completely devoid of life.

Spencer Mansion. So, this foreboding construct was Raccoon City’s Tremere Chantry. Perhaps there were worse clans to be part of, you ruminated.

Raising his knuckles, Leon was about to knock on the front doors when they creaked slightly ajar on their own, until a strong gust of wind materialized out of thin air, swinging them wide open as they rattled against the walls of the house. “Nice party trick,” he mumbled sarcastically.

“I heard that,” a voice boomed from the main hall.

The hallway was as opulent and musty as the building's facade, with smooth, spotless marble-tiled floors and a red carpet rolled out from the door towards the stairs. There was an elegant chandelier suspended from the vaulted ceiling, as well as decorative candle stands and sconces in every corner. Despite the multitude of light sources available, the room still seemed dimly lit.

In the center of the carpet stood a woman in a preppy tweed pantsuit, picking at her fingernails as she eyed the two of you haughtily. Even though she was alone, you had the strange sense that there were plenty of others in the room hiding in plain sight, and watching you from the shadows.

“An acolyte,” Leon whispered, making sure he was out of earshot this time.

It was just a fancy name the Tremere gave to a fledgling. Essentially, she was at the bottom rung of the pyramid, a newbie like yourself, and yet she was behaving as if she owned the entire manor.

“The Regent is waiting for you in the bar,” she informed. With a slight, dismissive wave of her hand, she indicated for you to follow her.

“Stick close to me,” Leon instructed, drawing you in until your arm bumped against the side of his chest. “You don’t want to get lost here.”

Definitely not. You’d heard about the chantry traps that the Tremere were famous for, designed to keep out both malicious entities and those unfortunate souls who had accidentally stumbled in, blissfully unaware of the nature of this place. Ending up like them would be worse than a disaster.

As you passed through the main hall, a stately set of doors on your left caught your eye. They were cracked open, and through the gap, you could see two rows of people seated opposite each other at the long cherry wood dining table. A large burlap sack, bound with rope, lay on its surface; whatever was inside squealed and kicked about. You could hear its muffled screams when suddenly, all the diners turned their heads to face you, completely expressionless.

Gasping in shock, you instinctively huddled against Leon’s body, seeking refuge from the chilling scene you had just encountered. He hooked his arm around your shoulder, allowing your head to burrow in the crook of his neck as you continued onwards. An odious grin crept over the acolyte’s face as she witnessed your reaction.

Climbing up the stairs, the whole mansion descended into a torturous maze. It was a nauseating feeling to lose all sense of direction, unable to distinguish where you were or where you were going. Each corridor looked the same; you took countless left and right turns, and it felt as if you were being led around in circles. Even your depth perception was off; objects shifted and merged, and passages stretched and compressed as you walked through them. It became increasingly difficult to judge your distance from anything in sight.

You tried to focus on the acolyte, using her as a beacon to guide you through this complex web. Although Leon was faring better than you, he too appeared to be struggling to keep up with the pace. You were ascending levels only to head back down again, no longer sure which floor of the mansion you were on. Was this some cruel joke she was playing on the two of you, or were they trying to ensure you’d never remember how to navigate a route through the building?

The next time, it was Leon who saw something unspeakable. Red light emanated from a narrow doorway at the side, and within it, a naked man was strapped to a sturdy mahogany chair. His head lolled on his chest and his frail body was bruised and battered. Pieces of his flesh had been carved out in strange shapes; some of the slabs were scattered on the floor. His festering wounds were weeping and if not for his feeble, trembling groan, Leon would have assumed he had been long dead.

“Christ, this is some sick shit,” he hissed under his breath in revulsion. You peered in the direction he had glanced at, but there was only an austere portrait hanging against a blank wall. Were the both of you going mad and imagining things?

Shaking his head, he advised, “You don’t want to go looking for it, trust me.” 

At last, the acolyte came to a stop, ushering you into a modest-sized room with checkered tile floors, reminiscent of a chessboard, and an oak bar counter at the side where a clean-cut, impeccably dressed man sat. There was a grand piano facing the bar, and Moonlight Sonata was playing on its keys despite there being no musician present at the instrument.

The room was vacant, apart from the lone person by the bar, whom you presumed was Glenn. He appeared to be a middle-aged man with graying hair and a deep scar across his left eyebrow. His long suit coat was a well-coordinated palette of grays, reds and blacks. As he imbibed the ruby red liquid in his crystal tumbler glass, a dash of it spilled out by accident, though it hovered in the air. Setting the glass down, he sucked it into his mouth with ease; his mouth twisting into a sinister smile.

“Please, make yourselves at home,” he welcomed both of you, gesturing to the unoccupied bar stools before him. Despite his mild mannerisms, his gaze was cold and calculating, honed through years of corrupt transactions and political backstabbing.

When you had settled in, the acolyte closed the door shut, leaving you with the man. It was then that he spoke up again, “There’s no need for pleasantries, so let me cut to the chase. You wish to see Ms. Chambers, yes?”

“On Prince’s orders,” Leon highlighted.

At this, Glenn laughed contemptuously, “I thought you knew better than to use threats against me, Mr. Kennedy.” He extended his gloved finger, wagging it scathingly in front of Leon’s face. “Unlike what the rest of you neonates think, the P-word doesn’t hold much weight here.”

Retracting his hand, he reiterated, “For your sake and the sake of your childe, I suggest you learn to play by my rules.”

You watched as Leon lowered his head in submission as your hatred towards Glenn grew. Were all the Tremere stuck-up assholes? You had a hunch that such behavior was largely shaped by this man himself.

“Excuse my earlier transgression, Mr. Arias,” Leon apologized rather perfunctorily. “Is there something we might offer in exchange for the inconvenience?”

“That’s more like it,” Glenn remarked, curling his finger over his lip as he nodded favorably. “Well, now that you mention it, I suppose there is.”

From under his coat, he pulled out a thin folder of documents, handing it over to Leon. “You see, for some reason, it’s been a tradition in my clan to divide the roles between Regent and Primogen, when really, they could just be handled by the same person.”

“And you want the Primogen title,” Leon surmised.

What else would he expect from a power hungry Tremere, who wanted the best of both worlds? As a Primogen, he would be considered his clan’s representative within the Prince’s Council — the first port of call the Prince would consult on various matters. That, along with being the figurehead of the Chantry, would allow him to elevate his status to what would essentially be a dictatorship within his clan.

“You said that, not me,” Glenn pointed out sneakily. “I’m merely exposing the incompetence of the current appointee.”

He tapped the documents in Leon’s hands. “Anyway, back to business. It’s quite simple, I’d like you to plant these documents in the office of the current Tremere Primogen. Discreetly, of course.”

Pausing for dramatic effect, he drummed his fingers on the counter. “And then we’ll see about your visit with Ms. Chambers.”

“What’s in them?” you questioned abruptly.

His eyes snapped sharply to you. “Oh, so she speaks!” he mocked. “Let’s put it this way, it’s enough to get her for treason.”

You were about to counter with a barbed remark when Leon cut in, talking over you, “Mr. Arias, would you be so kind as to allow my childe and me a few minutes to converse over this matter in private?”

An acerbic smirk appeared on Glenn’s face. “Of course.” He nodded slightly and took his leave.

“So you’re just gonna sit there and accept this slimy motherfucker’s offer?” you goaded, already irritated about being interrupted by your sire earlier.

“Language!” Leon hissed, reproaching you gravely. “The walls have ears.”

This only served to incense you even more, as you slammed your palm on the countertop in defiance. Glenn’s empty glass skittered across its surface, though Leon caught it just in time before it shattered onto the ground. 

“You’re condemning an innocent person to Final Death or worse!” you accused.

A dry chuckle slipped from his lips. “Innocent? No one in that sort of position, let alone this world, is innocent.”

For once, you were at a loss for words, only able to articulate how you felt about him in the moment. “You disgust me.”

“Honestly, I disgust myself at times,” he admitted rather self-deprecatingly.

Some part of you could understand that perhaps this was all he knew: lies, deceit, and shady dealings. Could you change that and make him see things from your perspective? You had to try.

Placing your hand over his, you squeezed it, peering into his brilliant blues as you reasoned, “How many compromises are you going to make until there’s nothing left in here?” You prodded his chest gently with your finger, urging him to reflect on what made him human.

“I—” He scrunched up his face, a tormented expression blooming across it as he turned away, unable to look you in the eye. “I-I can’t…” His voice was pinched and strained, as if it would hurt him to utter any more words.

“This is just how it works in the Kindred world,” he asserted, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Your anger dissipated into pure disappointment, weighing like a stone in your heart. “Keep telling yourself that,” you stated simply as you let him go, resigning yourself to your original position. Coward, you denounced internally.

As if on cue, you heard three sharp knocks on the door before Glenn came back in. “So?” he questioned, glancing over at the two of you in anticipation.

Leon’s features stiffened as he met the man’s gaze head-on. “We accept.”

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 4

Chapter Links: First, Previous <- Chapter 4 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour!

---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Alastor, Overlord and apparent connoisseur of fine meats and terrible jokes, became a regular sight around the shop.  You'd tried to maintain a more professional demeanor during the Radio Demon's return visits, making sure your customer service smile was pinned in place and impeccable manners on full display.  

It was obvious that Alastor was less than pleased by the shift in your attitude towards him.  

“Have I done something to offend you?” Alastor asked offhandedly as he perused the available selection of sinner meat on unremarkable Tuesday afternoon, the abundant stock of angel meat having long run dry.

“No!” You rush to assure him, nearly dropping your order pad in your nervousness. “No, of course not, Sir!”

“Oh, I'm so relieved to hear that!”  He said cheerily, his piercing red eyes locking onto yours, demanding your complete focus and attention.  “Then there must be some other explanation for the abrupt shift in your treatment towards me, hmm?”

“Well, that is, I-,” you stammered, trying to come up with an explanation that would satisfy his inquiry without revealing the mortifying truth.  Overlords were proud and egotistical to a fault and the fact that you hadn't recognized one of the most powerful people in Hell likely wouldn't be well received.  

“You were so much fun on my first visit,” he laments with a dramatic sigh, the sincerity of which was diminished by the ever present smile on his face.  “All the jokes and comradery- why, it was an absolute riot!  I hate to say it, gentlemanly as I am, but you've been quite boring by comparison these days.”

Terror prickled beneath your skin and you swallowed thickly, doing your best to hide your fear even though it was likely a futile endeavor.  Alastor's pupils had narrowed into thin slits that sliced across his irises; the attentive gaze of a predator that had honed in on its prey.  

Without a doubt, the only thing worse than being seen by an Overlord was being seen as disposable by an Overlord.   

“I see,” you manage to squeak out.  “I'll do my best to be more…accommodating in the future.”

“Splendid!” Alastor responded cheerfully, tapping his cane onto the ground.  “I'll take that promise and some bacon.”

“Right away, Sir,” you agree readily, prepping a section of butcher paper for his order.  “And just so you know, we got this particular meat from a very sick sinner at the hospital.  But don't worry, it's been cured.”

The Radio Demon's reaction was instantaneous, a loud bark of laughter followed by the sound of canned applause filtering the air.

“Bravo!  Bravo!” He crowed in delight. “Funny and a basic sense of self-preservation!  I dare say that you and I are going to get along famously.”

Much to your surprise, you did get along well with Alastor; in so much as a guppy could be congenial with a shark.  

You shared a similar sense of humor and had a hunch that Alastor would swing by more frequently when he felt as though his witty repartee wasn't being well-received by the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, finding you to be a more receptive audience.  

“It's positively depressing what passes for entertainment at the Hotel,” Alastor grouched, his eyes narrowed in disdain.  “Every free moment is frittered away in front of that infernal boob tube.”

“Where do they get off, relaxing in their free time?” You tutted in faux disapproval as you waited for the Radio Demon to make his deli selection.  “They must have tripped and dropped their Protestant work ethic on the way through Hell's gate.”

“I'm not objecting to them having a bit of leisure time, goodness knows I enjoy occasional bouts of indolence myself,” Alastor admitted, emphasizing his point by leaning on his microphone as though overtaken by a wind of sudden exhaustion.  “No, no- I simply disapprove of the manner in which they choose to spend it.”

“And what would you have them do instead?”

“Why, anything at all!  The red sky's the limit!” The Radio Demon announced, twirling a pointed finger up towards Heaven.  “Stamp collecting, embroidery, amputations, voodoo, bird watching-”

“All the traditional pastimes,” you nod indulgently, watching Alastor's ever present grin deepen at your remark.  This is what kept him coming back for more, you thought.  Your dedication to a bit and, most importantly, willingness to indulge his antics.  

“What about you?” Alastor asked, the weight of his focus settling onto your shoulders in a way that was still oppressive, but had become less overwhelming as time passed.  “You aren't a complete dullard, surely you must spend your free time on more enriching activities than watching television.”

It amused you how he spat the last word like a curse, and you would have laughed had you not been caught completely off guard by Alastor's question.  

Never, in the many weeks of your acquaintance, had Alastor shown any interest in you as a person.  You were a prop, a bit player holding up the scenery in the grand production of Alastor's life.  His shtick was furthered by the addition of a straight man so that's what you were, adhering to your assigned role without complaint.

The Zeppo to his Groucho.

“Oh, uh, yeah-,” you stammer, reaching for the thin pewter chain around your neck.  With bumbling fingers you pull out the necklace tucked into the top of your baggy dress, holding the ivory colored pendant out for Alastor to examine.  “I carve.  Bone, mostly since that's- it's what I have around.”

Time seemed to slow to an absolute crawl as Alasor slowly and intently raised a hand towards your neck, well aware of how intimidating the motion was and reveling in your obvious discomfort.  Heart rabbiting inside your chest, you held yourself as still as possible as the tip of his index finger, ink black and wickedly sharp, grazed the underside of your jaw ever so lightly as he draped the pendant across his palm for inspection.  

“Flowers?” Alastor hummed, the sound low in his throat and practically vibrating in the air between you.  “A delicate choice for a woman who spends her day hacking up corpses.”

“They're all my favorites from when I was alive,” you explain, unsure why you felt the desperate need to do so.  “They don't grow here in Hell and I- I didn't want to forget what they looked like.”

“Is that something that worries you?  Forgetting?" Alastor hummed thoughtfully, the sound harmoniously mingling with his static.  

“Just the good things,” you mutter, heart crashing down to your stomach when Alastor finally releases your necklace; pendant swinging into your clavicle with a dull thud.  “I can't seem to forget the bad stuff no matter how hard I try.”

“That is the way of things,” Alastor laughed, staticy and piercing. “Especially down here!”

Later that night, as you laid curled up on your lumpy mattress, you couldn't stop the goosebumps that rose across your body as you remembered the haunting feeling of Alastor's claw prickling your skin.  

You wondered if the feeling of him would fade with the good things, or linger with the bad.  It worried you that you couldn't tell. 

[smilesrobotlover]

AO3

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Chapter 3- Trip to Kakariko

It was dark outside by the time everyone was done with supper, and they all sat around the couch, speaking quietly while Kori began to doze off on Midna’s lap. Link watched them with a smile, his heart warm from having his family together again.

“Say Link,” Uli started, eyeing the sleepy birthday boy, “do you have any gifts for Kori?”

Kori’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, causing the adults to all laugh. “Gifts? For me?”

Link chuckled. “Well Kori, ten years old is a big deal. I figured that you should get a gift for this year.” Kori straightened his posture and excitedly listened to Link, which made him chuckle. “We figured that we could visit Kakariko tomorrow and you can pick out something from one of the shops there!”

Kori gasped. “We’re going to Kakariko tomorrow?”

Link nodded and Kori jumped with excitement. Midna giggled and hugged him close, but Link couldn’t help but notice a hint of sadness in her expression.

“We leave early in the morning,” Rusl said, ruffling his grandson’s head, “so you should get some sleep. You look tired anyways.”

Kori looked up at Midna and she nodded. The two got off the couch and bid their farewells to the family while Link got his lantern ready. Rusl followed the small family out of the house, and when they reached Link’s home, Rusl stopped him.

“Link, I need to talk to you about something,” he muttered, and Link looked at Midna and his son who stared back at him. Midna nodded at him and took Kori upstairs, leaving Link and Rusl alone.

“What’s going on, pa?” Link asked after a moment of silence, and his father pulled out a crumpled letter. Rusl handed it to Link and he read it, using the lantern to light up the words on the rough paper.

Dear Rusl,

I hope this letter finds you well, and I hope that you are able to share this with the hero. There have been a concerning number of disappearances across Hyrule, and I wish for you and the resistance to look into it. A woman from Kakariko village and a Goron from Death Mountain were among the missing, and I hope that you and Link could investigate their disappearances to find any leads. The others are investigating the other regions of Hyrule.

Meet me at Telma’s bar in a week from now to see if you find anything.

—Sheik.

Link frowned as he stared at the letter. He looked up at Rusl who was watching him intently, a serious look on his face.

“Huh,” was all Link was able to say.

“Luckily we’re already heading to Kakariko tomorrow, we can investigate the missing people from there.”

Link nodded, staring at the words on the letter in shock. How did he not know about any of this? He’s the hero of Hyrule. Even though Ganondorf was defeated so long ago, he still had a responsibility to Hyrule and its people.

“So! We’ll spend our time doing that while we get Kori his gift, alright?” Rusl said when Link stayed silent.

Link let out a heavy sigh, and Rusl rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Get some rest, we have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Link nodded. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight son.”

Link watched as he went towards the village, and he walked towards his own home. Midna was snuggling with Kori who was dozing off in her arms, and she was humming a tune. Her bell-like voice rang through the air, and Link smiled as he watched her rock Kori back and forth. When she finished the song, she glanced up at Link and tilted her head.

“Are you gonna sit down, or will you continue to gawk at me?”

Link snorted and walked over to her, kissing her temple.

“If you don’t mind, I’d love to gawk at you all night. I missed you.”

Midna giggled, and kissed his nose. “I missed you too.” She smiled as he sat down next to her, and rested her head on his own. “So what were you and Rusl talking about?”

Link sighed, the small, blissful moment making way for the anxiety he had from him and Rusl’s conversation. “He got a letter from the resistance, apparently there’s been some disappearances throughout Hyrule. We’re going to investigate it when we go to Kakariko tomorrow.”

Midna frowned. “Well, that’s not good. Do you have any idea what’s causing these disappearances?”

Link shook his head. “I honestly don’t know the details, I just know that a goron and a woman from Kakariko are among the missing. So me and pa have some work to do.” He stared at the door blankly as Midna grew silent.

“How many missing people are there?” She finally asked, and Link shrugged.

“I don’t know the details, Midna. But according to the letter that was sent to pa, it’s been a lot of people.”

“Goddesses…”

The two were silent for a long moment as Kori snored silently. Link reached out and tucked a stray hair behind his ear. His little boy’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked at the two confused.

“Hey kiddo, why don’t we put you to bed,” he whispered as Kori stared at him with sleepy eyes. Kori nuzzled his head into Midna’s neck and groaned.

“I don’t want to leave mommy,” he whimpered, and Midna gave Link a teasing look.

“My, he’s turning into you,” she said, and Link tilted his head.

“How so?”

“Always staying up late so you can spend every second with me?”

Link rolled his eyes and leaned away. “Ok ok, well we should put Kori to bed anyways. His little body needs sleep for healthy development, yeah?”

Kori grumbled and turned his head away, and Link chuckled, pulling him off of Midna.

“Come on kid, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

Kori groaned and hung onto Midna, who was pulling him away from Link. Link gave her a look and she grinned at him.

“He can stay here just like this Link, it’s his birthday!” She pleaded, and Link rolled his eyes, letting go. Kori quickly snuggled back into his mother and she began to rock him back and forth.

“You can carry him to bed then Midna,” he said as he sat back down, and Midna giggled at him.

“You’re lucky your father is such a softie, Kori,” Midna teased, and Link raised an eyebrow.

“You’re just as soft as I am.”

Midna smiled and they rested their heads against each other again as Kori fell asleep again.

“So, are you going to Kakariko with us, Midna?” He asked after a moment of silence.

Midna didn’t say anything, and Link looked up at her, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re not coming?”

“I– there’s something I need to talk to you about, Link,” she said quietly, “it’s why I was so late today.”

Link sat up and gave her his full attention, and she shrunk away a little.

“What is it, Midna?”

“Um… things have been getting… intense in the twilight realm. It was a miracle that I was able to get away when I did but… they want an heir, and they want her now.”

Link stared at her for a moment as the words sunk in, and his eyes widened in realization.

“Oh,” was all he was able to say. Midna let out a loud sigh and rested her head back.

“They’ve picked the guy that I’m gonna have the child with, and I just wanted to talk to you about it first. I’m not asking for permission, but I feel like you deserve to know.”

“I see.”

“Look nothing will ever come of it, after the child is conceived I won’t talk to him again because I hate him but—“

“Midna,” Link interrupted her, “it’s ok. I get it, you don’t need to explain yourself. I figured this time would come eventually.” he stared at Kori who was fast asleep in Midna’s arms. He remembered what happened when a half Twili was the heir. It was for the best that she gave birth to a fully fledged Twili, in order to ease the people’s minds. He stroked Kori’s hair with a smile. “I trust you Midna.”

Midna let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you do.”

“What are you gonna do when she’s born? Is she gonna come here with you?”

Midna frowned. “I don’t know. The light world is bearable because I have the fused shadows, but I’m not sure how it will be for her. I also don’t know how I’ll explain her to your parents. They might think that I’m… not loyal to you or something.”

Link was taken aback. “Oh… they won’t… they wont, don’t worry about it.” Midna gave him a look and he shrugged. “It wouldn’t be an issue if you told them that you’re the queen of the twilight realm. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Midna shook her head. “No, Link. They already know too much. It’s for the best that they don’t know who I truly am. I don’t want them to get hurt.”

Link sighed and rested his head against hers again. “Alright, fine. So I assume you’re not going to Kakariko then?”

“No, I can’t. I’m sorry Link.”

“There’s no reason to apologize. I understand.”

Midna smiled warmly and kissed him. Link smiled and kissed her back, lingering on the kiss for much longer. Midna pulled back and gave him a look.

“I know you and Rusl are leaving at the crack of dawn so don’t even bother staying up late.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve had sleepless nights before.”

“Yeah, and you nearly fell apart from them.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Midna giggled and started stroking his hair, humming a tune as she rocked both Link and Kori back and forth. Link smiled as he listened to her pretty voice, his eyelids starting to get heavy at Midna’s soothing voice and touch. Despite him trying to fight sleep, he eventually lost the battle, and he fell asleep peacefully in Midna’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Movement in his arms woke Link up. He opened his eyes and stared at the little boy snuggled up next to him confused. Clearly, the little light from the rising sun was beginning to bother him, but despite that, he stayed snuggled against Link’s chest. He smiled and rubbed his back, which finally got Kori to give up on trying to sleep. He looked up at him with sleepy eyes and smiled.

“Hi, papa.”

Link smiled and kissed his forehead. “Hi kiddo, can’t sleep?”

Kori shrugged. “I’m not tired.”

“Sure you’re not, you just can’t keep your eyes open.”

Kori nuzzled his head into the pillow and groaned at Link, resulting in a chuckle from him. Link ruffled Kori’s hair, then looked around. Midna wasn’t here, and the house felt more empty without her. He understood why she couldn’t stay all the time, but goddesses he wished she could. As if he read Link’s mind, Kori lifted his head and looked around.

“Is mommy not here?”

Link frowned, pulling him closer. “No, she had to go back home.”

Kori pouted. “But… she just got here!”

“I know, but she needed to deal with something.”

“So she’s not going to Kakariko with us?”

“No, unfortunately not.”

Kori’s little ears drooped, and he sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. Link watched him sadly as he stared blankly at the wall, and he sighed.

“Shall we get ready? We don’t want to keep grandpa Rusl waiting for us.”

Kori nodded silently, and he stood up, hopping down the ladder. Link got up as well and started packing enough clothes and supplies for a couple of days in Kakariko. He strapped it all to Epona and helped Kori pack his own things, making sure not to forget his precious Billy the Goat. The sky was a deep orange when he finished, and he heard chatter coming from the village as Rusl and the rest of the village kids entered his clearing, a carriage attached to his pa’s horse. Beth, Colin, Rela, and Malo were hanging off the carriage, and Colin hopped off, greeting his brother by attempting to wrestle him.

“Oh good! Y’all are ready!” Rusl said he got closer to Link, who already had his little brother in a headlock. “I was afraid that I’d have to wake you up!”

Kori smiled and slammed into his legs, causing him to grunt a little, but he still gave him a tight hug. Link chuckled and let Colin go, who pouted at being defeated in seconds.

“We’re ready, pa. Is everyone else good to go?

Rusl looked back at the others who were standing around impatiently.

“Do y’all have everything you need?” He asked them.

“Yep!” Beth proclaimed.

“Yeah,” Malo said.

Rela began to list off all the things she grabbed while Colin gave a thumbs up. Rusl gave Link a nod and rounded everyone up into the carriage. Kori stayed with Link on Epona, though he protested against it, Link promised to make it fun for him.

The group headed out just as the sun was slightly above the horizon, the sky being a beautiful deep blue. It was a lovely day, with hardly any monsters out and about, which made escorting easy. It was relieving to know that his son would be in a world without hordes of monsters threatening him in the field. His efforts in making a peaceful Hyrule weren’t entirely in vain.

Occasionally, Link would have Epona run and jump over different obstacles, which made Kori happy. He even got a little carried away and had Epona sprint towards a pond of water, causing Kori to squeal as he got wet. Rusl called for the two, and Link realized that he was a little too far away from the others. Though they didn’t know what was causing the disappearances, Rusl believed that if everyone stuck together, they would be safe, so Link had to at least stay close to him.

It was evening when they finally arrived at Kakariko. Though the sky was beginning to turn orange from the setting sun, the village was still bustling about. For the past few years, Renado had worked hard at reinventing Kakariko, and it had turned into a lovely little town. Not as big as castle town, but not as small as Ordon. Link had to admit that if he wasn’t so connected to Ordon, he’d probably move here. There was a horse stable where a cave used to be by the spring, and each abandoned building was fixed into homes and shops. Kori’s favorite shop was of course the toy shop, but he was also excited about a new clothing shop that recently opened. Link didn’t know why a boy his age loved clothes so much, but he supposed his abhorrent attitude towards the traditional men’s skirts of Ordon and love for pants had something to do with it. Link hopped off Epona and helped Kori down when he reached the new stable, sadly putting his steed in with other horses.

“I’m sorry girl, I know how much you love to roam,” he muttered, feeding her a sugar cube, which she gratefully ate from his hand, and Link gave Kori one. “You wanna give her a treat?”

“Yeah!” Kori took the sugar cube and held it to Epona with his palm up, which Epona ate as well. Kori giggled as her mouth tickled his hand, and she nibbled for a moment making sure the treat was fully gone. Kori gave her a pat and a small kiss on her nose. “Thanks for getting us here!”

“Ew, Kori kissed a horse,” Rela teased, holding her stuff in her arms.

“I’ve seen you kiss toads!” Kori rebutted, glaring at her. “At least I won’t get warts from a horse!”

“That was one time, Kori!” She snapped, and Colin led her away from the two, smirking.

Link rolled his eyes at the two kids, and grabbed his own things, handing some of it to Kori. “You excited to see Renado and Luda?”

Kori’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! It’s been so long since I’ve seen them!”

“It’s only been three weeks!”

“Yeah! That’s a long time!”

Link grinned as they walked out of the stable, dodging folks that were walking to their homes in a hurry. Link couldn’t help but pick up on the unease. People seemed rather anxious to get to their homes safe and sound, some glancing nervously at the new clothes shop.

That must be where the missing woman lives, Link thought sadly. Kori investigating the new shop would have to wait until she is found. What bothered him the most however were people glancing at Kori weirdly. He was out in public at Kakariko since he was so close to Renado and Luda, but some people didn’t know him, and as a result, they didn’t trust his presence. One lady didn’t hide the fact that she was eyeing Kori suspiciously, and Link wrapped his arm protectively around his son, glaring at the woman. As the group headed to the Elde Inn, Link noticed Barnes fixing his sign in front of his shop, and the two waved at each other.

“Link! Rusl! Kids! It’s always good to see ya!” He called out to them, and everyone waved back at him.

“How’s it going, Barnes?” Rusl called back.

“Oh, nothin’ much! A bunch of delinquents broke my sign though, so I gotta fix that!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t one of your experiments going wrong again?” Beth teased, leaning against the wall of the Elde inn. Barnes crossed his arms.

“It wasn’t an experiment goin’ wrong… not this time anyways.”

Beth laughed and Colin rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Where’s Renado and Luda?” Rusl asked. “We’re about to take over the village with our presence and I want them to know we’re here.”

“Oh!” Barnes glanced at the sanctuary. “Luda is pretty busy right now, bein’ the village’s healer is a lot of work! And Renado is…” he looked around the village and shrugged. “Who knows where he is! He’s constantly runnin’ around the village helpin’ people!”

Link gave a knowing nod. Renado had become the mayor of Kakariko, letting Luda take over his old role as a healer. Though he was a phenomenal mayor, Link could tell that he was a little overwhelmed from such a responsibility.

“Well tell them we’re here, we’re just gonna get a room,” Rusl said, beginning to head into the Elde Inn. Barnes nodded and gave them all one last wave as they all went inside.

It didn’t matter how many times he went inside the inn, the way the place looked shocked Link. He remembered when it was an old and crumbly place, with broken furniture scattered across the floor and dusty surfaces. Now it had a comforting air to it, with a warm light from the candles in the chandelier, the smell of food coming from the kitchen, and people chatting in the main area where comfy looking chairs were. It was a lovely place.

The woman behind the counter kindly gave them a big room for the large group, and they all headed up the stairs, picking their beds inside their room and stretching their legs.

“Let’s go to the shops!” Rela said, after everyone was unpacked. “I wanna see what stuff they have at the toy store!”

“Yeah!” Kori agreed, but Rusl shook his head.

“The stores are probably closed by now, it’s supper time.”

Rela pouted. “Well what are we supposed to do?”

Beth walked up to her and ruffled her hair. “Get supper of course! Hopefully Talo will be here!”

“Oh yeah!” Colin stood up. “Talo should be staying in this inn!”

Rusl gave Link a smile and stood up himself. “Well let’s go get some food and find Talo! Try not to give him a hard time though,” he looked specifically at Beth.

“I can’t make any promises,” she joked, and they all left their room, excited to get whatever was cooking in the kitchen.

[ponyosmom35]

sisters

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability series chapter 8!!!!

synopsis: reader has a long-awaited conversation with her sister

warnings: angst, cursing, sisters fighting, ghost mentioned

link to liability series: https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

MDNI

The medic hurried out of the cafeteria and followed after Emma once the conversation with Ghost had come to an end. She was tired of the silence, she needed this to be resolved so she could clear her head. No matter how much she hated swallowing her ego, she knew that the only way to get Emma to talk to her was to be the first to apologize. She opened the door to their and noticed Emma reading a book on her bed. Their eyes meet and rage fills the older sister's body instantly. 

"was I not clear when I said I have nothing to say to you?" Emma asks 

"that's fine, that means you can keep your mouth shut and listen to me" she says 

"I don't wanna talk about this right now just-" Emma starts, the younger sister cuts her off determined not to let Emma shut this down. "we are talking about this right now because I'm tired of the silence, I miss you" 

Emma's gaze softens slightly and she puts the book down, crossing her arms awaiting the apology. She sighs and sits down on her own bed, crossing her legs. "you were right about my behavior, I acted like a fucking idiot and I regret it. I put you in a compromising situation all because I let my ego get the best of me and that wasn't fair. You've done so much for me, and I'm sorry that I couldn't recognize that at first. After being here I see just how wrong I was, I'm so grateful that you got me this job, it's truly changed the way I view medicine"

"thank you for saying that" Emma says "It wasn't fair of Ghost to treat you like that, he can be a dick sometimes, so I can see why you were upset"

"speaking of, I apologized to him as well after you left. I thought about what you said and I don't want any bad blood between you and the team because of my words. He said it was forgotten but you know him, can't be sure" she smiles 

"he's a character thats for sure"

"I don't think I've ever met anyone like him before" she admits 

"I think he'd say the same about you"

"I doubt it- that man hates me"

"If he hated you then you would've been gone a long time ago" Emma says "I think he likes you a lot more than he lets on, we can all see the two of you"

Her breath hitches and she stares at her sister wide eyed "what?"

"it's obvious babe, you like each other!"

"what makes you say that?" she questions in shock 

"the way that he watches you, he's its like he's constantly checking on you. And don't think we didn't all notice how you stare at him when he's working out in the morning"

"I don't like Ghost! he's a dick Em!"

"a sexy dick" Emma points out

"he is undeniably sexy but that means nothing! a guy like that would never spare me a second glance, don't feed my delusions" she jokes 

"deny it all you want" Emma shrugs 

"I'm not here for sexy military men, I'm here to prove to you that I can do a good job"

"you have nothing to prove to me, I know how extraordinary you are"

"you mean that?" she asks

Emma moves over to her side and grabs her hand "I know how talented you are, that's why I wanted you here with me, I knew how many lives you'd save. we need you. I need you, and I'm sorry for my behavior this past week as well. I've said many things that I don't mean. I love you little sister, you're my best friend in this world and I'm so grateful to have you here with me" 

"I love you to Em" she says leaning her head on Emma's shoulder 

"I know that Ghost is packing at least 8 inches" Emma says breaking the sweet moment, she lifts her head and stares at her in shock as a blush creeps over her face. 

"oh my god you're blushing! I knew you liked him!" Emma says pushing her sister back "just imagine those arms lifting you up" she taunts 

"oh my god stop!" she laughs 

"don't tell me you haven't thought about it"

"obviously I have" 

"he's like a fucking greek god" Emma says 

"since when do you like men?" she asks 

"I don't but just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I'm fucking blind, that man is gorgeous, god took his fucking time on him" Emma says, causing the pair to laugh loudly. 

"his tattoos..." she trails off 

"he's stunning" Emma agrees

"I wonder what he looks like underneath the mask" she muses 

"I don't know, only people who've seen his face is the team. he won't even share his name with the rest of us"

"I wonder why"

"I'm not sure, all I've been told is that he's the real fucking deal, he's a living legend, a real ghost story. Most aren't even sure if he exits." 

"what do you mean?"

"anyone who's ever gotten close enough to see the skull mask is a dead man walking" Emma responds. the thought sends chills down her spine, goosebumps arise on her arms.

 "yet somehow you've yelled at him and managed to walk away unharmed, that means something"

"yeah I guess it does"

"all I'm saying is that you shouldn't ignore your feelings, just because he hasn't given you any signs that you'd expect doesn't mean he doesn't care. expect the unexpected with him, notice the little things" 

"I will" she nods 

Chapter 9: https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/734013605561974784/friendly-debates?source=share

[bonus-links]

PLEASEEEEE THIS COMIC IS SO GOOOOOOODDDDDD

How did you come up with such interesting concepts ??? I only started following this like 6 months agoooo and it always makes my Wednesday (or whenever) when you posted another page. Got me planning out my weeks when you had a schedule.

ANYWHO! As a fellow writer, I’d love to like see your story boards for the first chapter (when it’s over- if it isn’t already - maybe I’m a silly goose) BUT I LOVE YOUR WORK SO SO SO MUCH!!! Keep going PLEASEEEE i beg of you

OH IM GLAD I WENT BACK THRU MY ASKBOX TO FIND THIS ASK I dont have storyboards exactly (i do share my sketch/thumbnail pages on my main though under the processdotjpg tag!) but I do have a miro board with the entire bonus links plot charted out. now that chapter 1 is done I can share its section:

very specific, i know. I also have a word doc outline with more detail lol, but this miro board helped me visualize everything much better. clearly I changed the final order of things! also featuring such riveting notes I left myself as:

i would not recommend planning a story or a comic the way I do but. its worked for me so far lol. I am so glad that people have been enjoying it, sometimes it's really challenging to keep up with (both in terms of the workload and just like. mentally putting myself out there) but it's been a lot of fun to share with everyone :-))

[thewordswewrite]

The Drought of an Ocean

Chapter 11 - Rings Like Gold

Pairing | Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Story Summary | Finnick Odair was the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games but that didn’t earn him respect as a mentor, at least not until she came along. When a dejected volunteer from District 4 puts her life on the line, Finnick will do anything he can to protect her.

Chapter Summary | A new development from Snow puts Finnick and his victor in a tough situation

Chapter Warnings | canon typical violence, nonexplicit forced prostitution, mentions/situations of sexualizing minors, anxiety inducing situations, explicit language, mentions of suicide

W/C | 3.2k

Taglist | @lem0ns77   @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @curlycarley​   @bela-nov​ @lilylovelyxo​   @jaydiann @shynypeacekitten​ @dd122004dd​ @jyessaminereads​   @aquawhore420   @qallaghereid  @bazzaza​ @zulpix-blog​

A/N | guys we’re just ruining these people’s livessss fr sorry not sorry-Smoe

Donations |  Link    

|Masterlist|

As the party continued on into the night, the girl faithfully followed Sagan to the point of nearly cowering behind them as they descended further into the depths of the palace. Without Finnick by her side, she was vulnerable to the touches and offers of the partygoers, Sagan clueless to the fact that one might be made uncomfortable by this type of behavior; they meant well but ultimately, they were one of them.

She had seen the first glimpses of Finnick acting like himself when he had snuck away, finding something more important than her safety, than her to occupy his night. The idea of heading back home and never having to see him in more than a passing glance and mentor-related events was becoming more and more appealing. What had he really done for her anyway? She had been the one to impress the judges during training, to get in with the career pack and to fight her way out of that arena. Even with the unfortunate implications that had come from her interviews, she had clearly made an impression in the Capitol given she received a sponsor in her biggest time of need. If anything, Finnick’s presence in her life only made things far more complicated than they needed to be.

“Is the party almost over?” She asked Sagan as they pulled her along hand in hand, “Finnick’s gone and I just want to go home.”

“Over? Darling, it’s barely begun,” Sagan gasped. “You’re the star here. If you go now…well, I suppose it will continue on but at least stay for the fireworks!”

“Fireworks?”

“Exactly! You simply must see them.” As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was intrigued. At the very least, she had heard rumblings of the President’s speech and the grand presentation being imminent so it wouldn’t be an impossible task to wait a bit longer. 

They were mingling for a little while longer when out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw a peacekeeper approach Sagan. She excused herself from the conversation she was in, in favor of finding a larger crowd to hide amongst. It was no use however, as her escort and the armed guard were by her side in minutes. When a leather gloved hand wrapped around her upper arm, she tried to escape the bruising grip but Sagan stepped in before she could start an altercation.

“It seems you’re a very lucky girl tonight. A private audience with President Snow awaits you!” Sagan said the words pointedly, knowing the girl well enough to urge her to calm herself before things escalated. “Go on now. I’ll be right here waiting to hear all about it!” 

She eased in the guard’s grasp as he led her towards the other man from his post. With the two of them behind her, they corralled her up the grand staircase to the top floor. The dark wooded hallway loomed around her, seeming to go on for miles with different doors. The guards led her to one at the end of the hall, marked in its importance by a wide set of double doors. The two of them took their new position, one on each wall as she looked at them for some indication as to what she should do but their masked faces revealed nothing. She stepped up to the door and before she could reach out a hand to knock, it opened, revealing a familiar face. 

“Finnick, what’s going on?”

Her eyes darted from Finnick’s wide blown ones to Snow’s narrow gaze. 

“Ah, and here’s our victor now,” Snow announced with a gesture of presentation, the room eerily silent beyond those words. Finnick’s mouth was agape as he stared at her, failing to form any sound. His eyes glanced between her and the door as if he was thinking of making an escape. The President cleared his throat. “Please have a seat, my dear. I’ll formally extend my congratulations in a moment but first, Finnick has something he wanted to say. Don’t you, Finnick?”

She took the finely upholstered seat in front of the President’s desk, sitting awkwardly stiff. It was impossible not to feel as if she had walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to be a part of, the air in the room cold and tense. She was angled towards Finnick, eyes moving from the President to her mentor as he practically shook in his stance.

In a moment there was a burst of words from Finnick, rushing out of his mouth where there were none before, “You have to understand I didn’t mean for this to happen this way, there was nothing I could–”

The frantic quality of his expulsion and no doubt the volume caused the peacekeepers to step towards him, hands on their weapons but Snow must have anticipated the reaction for he stopped all three of the men with a tut.

“There’s no need for that, my boy,” The President sighed, turning to her to add, “He’s simply overexcited. Of course, Mr. Odair has taken a special interest in you and as a gift for him, I’ve approved your arrangements.” With the frigid air in the room, she was breaking into a cold sweat, a pit in her stomach growing larger by the minute.

“Arrangements?”

“Finnick, would you like to try that again?” Snow ‘asked’ though it was clear from the look on Finnick’s face that he had no choice. He pulled something out from behind his back that she couldn’t make out but if he wasn’t careful, his shaking hands would surely drop it. With his head pointed down towards the floor, he inched closer to her. His hand made to present the item in his possession to her but the President interrupted before she could catch a glimpse. “Now, now, be a gentleman and do it properly.”

Stinging hot tears sprang to her eyes as she watched Finnick get down on one knee, shaking her head before he revealed the piece of jewelry in his hand. In his palm sat a pearl ring, glittering stones around it forming the shape of a seashell. Finnick’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed, the lines of his frown mirroring the anguish that she too felt. Her vision was blurred by unfallen tears as she looked to Snow who nodded with a ‘go on’ gesture. There was no refusing, no running or fighting to be had; this was inevitable, it was this or death.

She nodded along in time with Snow, turning back to Finnick as silent tears traveled down her face. Grabbing her hand with his own, she flinched at Finnick’s touch briefly before relinquishing, allowing him to slide the ring onto her finger.

Finnick stood up, using her hand as leverage before she yanked her hand out of his. They turned to Snow expectantly, their next move unclear, the rest of their lives essentially up to the man in front of them. She felt the years slip through her fingers, her life already carved in stone. A cold dread traveled her entire body. 

Snow cleared his throat and stood to attention, “I believe it’s time for my speech. Join me, would you?” She could feel Finnick’s gaze on her but she didn’t dare turn to him, resolving to deal with him later. If it weren’t for the President, for the armed guards, she might’ve thought it in her best interest to fight her way out. Though, her instinct for self preservation was dwindling by the minute.

The peacekeepers led the three of them out onto the balcony, her and Finnick flanking the President on either side. The room having been void of life had not prepared her for the thousands of eyes on her in an instant. Seeming to go on for miles, the estate stood in its entirety in front of them, the Capitols citizens cheering as a spotlight fell onto her and the two men. She attempted to shield her eyes from the light as Snow began to speak. 

“Greetings, everyone,” The president’s voice boomed from next to her, echoing across the courtyard, “I know many of you have been anticipating the return of a fine young victor to our Capitol and tonight, I would like to formally introduce you to our very own Pearl, our 70th victor of the annual Hunger Games!” The crowd roared appropriately, a sound she had come accustomed to. Snow raised a single hand with a rehearsed grandeur and not an ounce of force, yet still the audience was immediately silenced.

“But it seems good fortune has fallen upon us. On this, the last day of her tour, I am most honored to announce the engagement of our newest victor to none other than our very own, Finnick Odair.” 

No interview, speech or appearance had prepared her for the uproarious response of the Capitol citizens. People were cheering, hugging, crying. They had not cared so much for her safe return home, for her very life and yet they stood beneath her as though this was the greatest news they had ever heard: the end of her freedom. 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Finnick smiling and waving as though they were truly some happy couple, as though he weren’t essentially her captor. The lights around her were blurring together as she became dizzy with anger. She imagined joylessly the reality in which she could tell the truth, cry out for help, the reality in which one of these people would notice even a piece of the corruption that their lives were built on. 

An explosion of both sound and light painted the sky above sending her into a panic. She looked around wildly for the source until on her other side, the process repeated, this time a cerulean shadow cast itself over the crowd. Before she could understand what she was seeing, Snow was making his closing remarks and the peacekeepers were leading them back inside.

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness and a hot putrid breath was on her ear, “We’ll be seeing each other soon, my dear. We’ve things yet to be discussed.” The doors were shut behind her without another word, leaving her alone with her fraudulent fiance. Finnick was already walking down the hall, not checking behind him to see if she would even follow but follow she did. When they made it to the stairs, he was running his hand through his hair, the other hand flailing as he spouted excuses.

“Listen, I’m going to get us–”

She didn’t take any time to listen, the object of her rage before her. With a strangled shout and all her strength, she shoved him. Despite her attempt to fully disarm him, she watched as he stumbled down about half the steps before regaining his composure.

“Hey! Listen to me-” She ignored him, stomping down the steps and trying to attack him again. She couldn’t think, her vision completely red and filled with the man who stole her future.

“This is all your fault!” She screamed, still shoving at his chest. In their struggle, they had unknowingly found themselves at the bottom of the stairs from which she could now hear onlookers whispering around them. She made to hit him still, unbothered by the crowd for she had nothing to lose but he stopped her, grabbing her forearms with bruising strength as she grappled against him. 

“We can’t do this, not here,” Finnick hissed through his teeth for only her to hear. She was inconsolable, her only objective being to make him feel her pain. Though she held her own, he was undoubtedly stronger, years of training behind him and he stood, hoisting her up along the way. Her arms now free, she made for another strike but he had already snaked an arm around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder before she could make another move. She pounded his back with her fists but he did not relent. 

As always, Finnick performed for his audience, leaving the room with a charming explanation and wink.

“She’s just so eager to get home and celebrate!”

・・・Ψ・・・

Finnick was splayed across the cushioned bench of an unmoving train, contemplating the life he had not even months before and the life that was unfolding in front of him like some child’s picture book though rather than a fairytale, it was the kind of story parents used to scare their kids into good behavior. It wasn’t as though he had any big plans for himself–he always knew his life belonged to the President–but at the very least he had hoped for the comfort of routine, some semblance of peace. Now he was responsible for another person’s life, another person who could be used as leverage against him and if she had anyone in her life, that also traced back to him; it was wave after wave, distending until they would inevitably drown him. 

On top of that, he knew the girl would not make any transition easy, having shown him exactly how she felt the night before when she had attacked him with a bloodlust he hadn’t even seen her break out in the arena. Still, he held out hope that she would come to understand that though unfair, this was the safest option for both of them. If he was being honest, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at being free from having to give up his body to strangers, to put on a mask that was becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish from himself; he had spared her from that and surely that was something to be grateful for.

“Any word on your…fiancee’s arrival?” Sagan asked gingerly, sneaking glances at the window above him. They had been despondent since the party, he figured for feeling scorned having not heard about their ‘engagement’ before the rest of the Capitol. “The conductor is getting antsy.”

“She’s on the President’s time. She’ll be back when he sees fit,” Finnick sighed, an arm slung over his eyes. Peeking over his elbow, he could see Sagan scoff before stomping off, their heels only making a dramatic thud on the carpeted floor of the traincar. He wanted her back more than anyone, he wanted to get home more than anyone but of course, Snow came first. 

The anticipation was killing him, worsened by the fact that he was not there to refute or explain away Snow’s words. Whatever the President was telling her, he was sure it painted him in a bad light and life would be easier for all of them if he could for once find himself in her good graces. He cursed the day they had laid eyes on eachother, wishing Mags had been there to guide her through, the distaste the girl likely still would have had for him only leaving him more determined for the next year.

The sun had nearly set when the doors to the main car slid open, Finnick’s heavy lidded eyes opening with a snap. He bolted upright, smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes as she stepped in. Once she laid slitted eyes on him, she purposefully made her way towards the next car but on unsteady legs he dashed after her, stopping her with an arm wrapped around her middle.

“We can’t not talk about this,” He grunted, “It’s not just going to go away if we ignore it.” She slipped out of his relaxed grasp with ease but he had already whirled around, putting himself between her and the doors.

“Get the fuck away from me,” She seethed. He swallowed the anger that she so specially drew out from him, shaking his head with a deep breath.

“What did he say? If I could just explain–”

“Oh, he explained everything. You’re disgusting,” She hissed lowly, regarding him as if she couldn’t stand to be in his presence. He reeled back as though she had hit him and Finnick considered that he might have preferred that to such blatant contempt. Couldn't she understand that it wasn’t his choice?  

“Everything?”

“Everything.” 

Finnick felt a deep shame well within him. Maybe in another life he would still sleep around but it wasn’t that part, the promiscuity, that bothered him, it was the lack of control over his own body that made him feel ill, feel disgusting. He had never uttered to another person the truth of his situation, the sale of him as a commodity by their own President, their valiant leader. This was just another thing that Snow had taken from him: the ownership of his own truth.

“Snow went on about how he ‘owed you for your…loyalty.’” Her face was twisted in genuine disdain. The implications of what his loyalty entailed made his face flush in humiliation. A long silence fell between them as he tried to regain his composure. It was broken, however, when a gasp rang out from the other side of the room. 

“There you are!” Sagan gushed, rushing over to the pair. “Well, now that the two of you are here let me just say congratulations! Snow’s announcement last night was quite…sudden. I certainly never would have expected it.” A smile was plastered on their face so widely it looked as though it might crack. At that, his girl groaned and used the distraction to slip away. Finnick shot Sagan a ‘what can you do’ kind of grin and followed after her.

“Hey,” Finnick called after her, taking quick strides to follow her through the cars. He managed to grab her upper arm and her attention with a firm, “Hey.” 

She whipped her head back to look at him, her jaw clenched. He took a quick scan of the surroundings and pulled her into a spare bedroom, shutting the door after them.

“Listen,” Finnick began, “I’m sorry, okay? But this–” he gestured vaguely between them, unwilling to put it to words, “this is the reality now. I would take this all back if I could but if he really told you everything, then you know this is for the best.”

“What do you know-”

“Enough. I am speaking now.” She didn’t cower in front of him, nothing even close, but she dignified him with her silence, her head tipped back. “Snow doesn’t take things like this lightly. If we don’t play along–and we’re going to play along–he won’t hesitate to get rid of us the same way he gets rid of everyone but he’ll break you down first, make you wish for it. He’ll start with the ones you love.”

She laughed cruelly, “I don’t have anyone that I love.”

“Well, I do,” Finnick bit back, “So whatever Snow’s idea of a happy couple is, that’s what we’re going to be. End of story.” Her bottom lip trembled but she kept that sardonic grin that made his blood boil.

“You’re a sick man, Finnick Odair,” She scorned.

“Maybe so,” He offered with a grin that mirrored her venom, “but we’re in the real games now and I won’t lose.”

|Masterlist| |Previous Chapter| |Next Chapter|

[smellss]

Prodded - Sam kerr x singer!reader social media au!

summary: things are about to get a little messy sadly it happens on social media…

sorry this is a bit of a filler chapter i really don’t know where i’m taking this story or whether i should leave it… (any ideas pls appriciates)

liked by emmawatson, tylerblackburn and 560,789

florencepugh: seeing you tonight is a bad idea right

emmawatson: gorgeous

floscrockpot: lol is this about y/n? @baby/n

baby/n: this is a big fat mess

user678: wtf this is so gay coded drama

livsguts: the olivia lyrics as well omg

tylerblackburn: omg can we be friends

liked by samanthakerr20, masiepeters, zendaya and 660,744

y/noffical: my new single feather comes out on friday 💌💌💌

zendaya: girl it’s absolutely incredible congrats bby ❤️

y/noffical: thank you my love

baby/n: omg the lyrics “i feel so much lighter like a feather with you out my life” FLO IS SOBBING RN

floscrockpot: wtf is y/n playing at! messing with flo not okay

baby/n: how is she messing her up she’s moving on

likedbyy/noffical

masiepeters: MY BABY GIRL

samanthakerr20: yours?

kerrleftboot: samantha samantha

y/nbaby: what the fuck

mummy/n: they aren’t even hiding their gay ass ong

liked by y/noffical, tilliesfandom and 780,987

marieclaire: Our most beautiful Y/n L/n for our June cover after finishing off her Australasian Tour 🇦🇺. Click the link below to hear her interview sharing all the goss of love and being back home!

INTERVIEW WITH MARIE CLAIRE

Interviewer: Hello gorgeous y/n lovely to see you again, or should I say welcome home! How’s the first couple of days been?

Y/n: I never thought i would miss the mozzies and the heat so much! But no it’s been wonderful to be back, as much as I enjoy the time away I have all my special people here.

Interviewer: So Y/n you’ve had an absolutely fabulous tour its been incredible but i was wanting to get a bit deeper with you. Your new single “Feather” is incredible, can you tell us more about the process of writing it?

Y/n: Of course, as the whole internet know by this point I went through a pretty big break up at the beginning of last year. This song just talks about how I've felt through the process and how I' d moved on.

Interviewer: Now social media plays a big part of anyone’s life but especially yours and taylor swifts, you both are always doing sneaky little hints to things. Now this week there’s been some chatter about someone in your past doing the same anything you’d like to say about that

Y/n: All I will say is that I’m very happy at the moment and am not going back in time to any memories or people.

Interviewer: Excellent! Last question for you today Y/n, you’ve shown your support for our nations team the Matilda’s at a couple of games of the FWWC now. I didn’t realise you were such a big fan of the sport?

Y/n: I should have expected this question really (laughs), look i’ve always enjoyed the sport but a couple of the girls have supported me at my shows and it’s the least I can do to reciprocate. They are very special people to me.

Interviewer: Anyone particularly special? (interviewer smirks and winks)

Y/n: Mmmmh I’ll keep my eye towards the front of the pitch (y/n laughs and winks with the interviewer)

liked by yser567, gossipbunny, baby/n and 67,890

dailymailaus: Spotted! Y/n L/n kissing secret girl following the celebration of her Australian tour finishing at a nightclub in Perth. Many fans speculate it is Matilda’s captain Sam Kerr after the two have been interacting on social media and a recent interview L/n did with Marie Claire. Click the link to discover more! 📸🔥

baby/n: that interview was so sweet but this is JUICY

floscrockpot: girl flo is literally in aus rn this could be her

baby/n: babe you’re delusional did not see y/ns most recent interview DONE 👏

user678: I wish they would just confirm it omg

samsleftboot: it makes sense they would want to keep it quiet they are both super busy tn however they aren’t doing a very good job hiding it.

mummy/n: my two girlfriends happy as can be

[harrysmmm]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧

Fanfiction: The Relics of Hogwarts (CLICK THE LINK BEFORE READING THIS)

Draco malfoy x Y/N Riddle (f!reader)

A/N: First chapter of the fanfic! It took me a whole week to write this, and a whole week to create the plot of the story. This chapter sets the tone for what is to come - more draco and the reader's interactions will happen in the following chapters. I am beyond excited to be posting this, I hope you guys enjoy it - I really had the best time writing it (it helps me deal with reality which I very much thank). Also, two things before you go and read it: one, my mother tongue is not English, once again, so forgive me for any mistake or wrong word that I might've used; two, every paragraph or conversation that is written in italic is a flashback (I think it was clear but just to be hella clear). That's everything for me to say... also you don't know the amount of research I've had to do in order to be precise on every description, family line, Hogwarts system... it's crazy the number of tabs I've opened during the creation of all of it. Last thing, I have never done this before but if you'd like to be on the taglist for each time I post a new chapter, put it in the comments or write me an inbox and I'll gladly do it! I'm going to try to do my best and post a chapter every week - two would be ideal. I tend to write pretty long chapters so it takes me a lot of time to finish them. I'm going to stop writing, this is becoming addictive. Love you, this fic is for all of you out there.

W/C: 4.3K

masterlist here

Summer was about to come to an end. It was pouring rain in the Scottish mountain range; a wild, twisted, ravaging storm that left a lifeless valley at its steps. Someone was rushing through the vast hallways, crackling footsteps as he was approaching the stone gargoyle. He whispered in a low, hoarse voice: “Cockroach clusters”. A stoned spiraled staircase revealed itself behind the statue, he marched them upstairs.

At the top, a wooden door was slightly opened revealing at its gap a dim light and an overwhelming heat. Under this particular weather, there was a need of a fireplace.

The professor stepped in the headmaster’s office.

“Severus,” Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the Wizarding School, Hogwarts, greeted the man, “what can I do for you in this, rather hectic evening?”

“I –” he stopped, having been interrupted by a loud thunder, “have some news from You Know Who.”

Dumbledore froze for a moment. “Ah!” he uttered, heading towards his centered desk, and sitting down. “Tell me what you know.”

“You Know Who’s daughter is supposedly coming to Hogwarts this year.”

“How is that possible?” Dumbledore seemed confused.

“He has gotten back in contact with her, after seventeen years,” Snape said in a monotone voice of his range. “I have been told to keep an eye on her.”

The storm was heavily attacking the gleaming windows.

“This is no coincidence - I suppose you know that, Severus.”

“I… assumed.”

“Voldemort has something in mind – something that involves the school – or Potter.”

“The child has always been in his sight, why would it be that now he is looking to get to him by sending his abandoned daughter off to school while she has a cursed bloodline herself, it seems a little…odd… from my perspective, Professor.”

“You’re right, Severus - but we need to be en garde.” Dumbledore was looking all around his desk seeming to try to dismantle this new information. “Does the girl know why she’s coming?”

“It seems like she does.”

“U-huh,” he replied. “Well, the link between Draco’s commended mission to kill me and the arrival of Voldemort’s daughter is evident; he’s trying to gain some presence within the school.”

“And,” he continued, “the girl and Draco have known each other merely from birth, they’ve grown up together as siblings, haven’t they, Severus?”

“I wouldn’t use the word siblings, Professor – as far as I know, they roughly consider each other cousins.”

“Right, right, cousins…”

“Professor,” uttered Snape.

“Huh?”

“What should I do?”

“Well,” Dumbledore got up and walked towards the animal that was gripping a stand cage. It was an elegant phoenix; he had crimson feathers covering his entire body and a long golden tail resembling that of a peacock. His name was Fawkes. Dumbledore caressed the animal as he continued, “you have no choice – she will have to attend this year at Hogwarts. In fact, she will directly be put into Slytherin, that way your task will be eased.”

“If I may, I don’t think she would’ve been sorted into any other house, giving her lineage, Professor.”

“Right, descendant of Salazar Slytherin, right…” Dumbledore didn’t seem to be there, his thoughts spiraling up, trying to find the connecting factor.

“I see you… pensive” said Snape in return.

Dumbledore moved from the bird to the East of the room and stood next to the recollection of memories bottled up in glass jars.

“We both know, Severus, that Voldemort doesn’t hold any sort of affection towards his daughter; he’s incapable of it.” He frenetically moved to the West of the room. “That girl has been raised by Druella Black, mother of the living Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy. The girl has never had any contact with her father, nor her mother for that matter.”

“If I may ask… what happened to the mother?”

“Well, no one knows what happened to her; no one even knows who she is. Voldemort hasn’t had any known-of partner in his life.”

“Right,” replied Snape. “Although the girl has, so it seems, a tight relation with the Diggory family.”

“The Diggorys… Cedric Diggory? The boy that Voldemort killed during the Triwizard Tournament?” inquired Dumbledore.

“Indeed. She’s presumably close to his father, Amos Diggory, who works in the Ministry of Magic.” completed Snape.

“How?”

“I don’t know, but she will come to the school as his niece, omitting her last name Riddle.”

“A façade.” Dumbledore had a lost look.

“Yes.”

“There’s a lot of things that we can’t grasp, Severus. You will keep an eye on her, I will deal with the rest.”

“As you wish.”

Snape turned around, swinging his cape as he moved to the door.

“Severus,” Dumbledore called him, before he could walk away, “Hogwarts is, once again, being threatened. This time, it might be the last time”. He looked at his hand, a black dark magic had scattered through most of it.

Snape understood his words but didn’t reply.

A black figure made his way down the enchanted staircase.

ྀ࿔

The hallways were full of students. Bustling chatter about summertime and vacations was spreading around the walls of the entrance hall. First years were arriving in canoes through the Great Lake that surrounded Hogwarts while upper years were progressively making an entrance, after getting off the Hogwarts Express.

She noticed the attunes of most students. Black robes seemed to be the official uniform, with varying colors on the hood, sleeves and the edge of the front depending on the student who was wearing it. At the front of it, there was a patch in accordance with the colors of the robe – she assumed it was the house patch of the student. She particularly laid her eyes on the green one, the one who seemed to have a snake in the middle. She knew that Father had attended the school – and even if she was mostly ignorant about the school system and supposed houses, she knew her father had been a green-robed student.

Snape started to climb up the Grand Stairs, she followed him. Various students and professors were hectically going up and down the stairs, making her have to pay attention to not brush shoulders with any of them. Snape was not looking back at her, swinging from side to side as if he knew seconds ahead who was going to go up or down.

Her mind wondered back to the reason why she was there; to the mission Father had commended her to do. She had heard about Wizarding Schools, Hogwarts in particular, since nearly her birth. However, Druella never wanted her to get mingled with academic wizards and witches, fearing for her life as a Riddle. That last name did not follow any welcoming reception in the Wizarding World. But after Father’s come back, things have changed all around.

She couldn’t help but travel back to the moment it all started.

“F-father?” she called him, pitch black consuming the entire room of the Malfoy Manor.

She could hear him moving. Hollow wooden floorboards slowly crackling at his steps. She could also hear his snake hissing - that’s how she knew he was standing in front of her.

“Child,” he finally said with a whispery, throaty voice, “I missed you.”

She felt two arms making their way to her ribs while slowly tangling behind her on what seemed to be a hug. She didn’t move, shivering of horror.

“My daughter.” She felt the air of his voice in her ear, making her swift breathing be noticed.

She understood that he knew she was afraid.

His arms were no longer wrapping her, and she felt how he was circling her by the crackling wood yet again.

“How have the Blacks been treating you?”

She gasped.

“Fair enough…Father.”

He seemed to have moved to the other side of the room.

“And the Malfoys? The young boy, Draco, is he nice to you?”

She tried to relax her breathing.

“He is - they all have always treated me as one of their own.”

“But you’re not one of them, are you?”. He moved closer to her again, as she felt his snake sliding next to her foot.

“I-I guess I’m not.” She could’ve sworn she saw a monster in front of her. She closed her eyes tightly.

“Your stay with them might’ve been enjoyable, but I’m afraid you must leave.”

Something in her stopped when she heard those words.

“Where?” she inquired.

“To the Diggorys.”

“I don’t know who they are.”

He was standing in front of her. She could sense it.

“They are nice people that will take you under their roof – now, I need you to befriend them, become one of them. You will need to take on their last name.”

She didn’t say a word and let him continue.

“I need some things that lay within the walls of Hogwarts; some things that someone wants to steal.”

“Harry Potter,” she whispered, not being able to contain herself.

“Do not mention his name!” he raised his voice, and she could feel his face almost touching hers.

She nearly started sobbing.

“You don’t get to say his name in front of me, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He leaned back some inches from her. “Some objects that are in the castle belong to me. I hid them so they would be safe - but it has come to my attention that they might be in danger.”

She kept listening.

“When the time comes, I will need you to go to Hogwarts as a Diggory and bring those objects back to me. You will be fully awarded for the act,” he paused, “and gain your place by my side.”

She heavily breathed when she heard that. After all those years, her father was offering her a chance to make him proud, to honor her last name, to have a family.

“What are these objects?”

“You’ll must bring me the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, the locket of Salazar Slytherin and the sword of Godric Gryffindor. All of them make the Relics of Hogwarts.”

“Now,” he continued, “you will leave to the Diggorys tomorrow morning. I will be back to tell you when you will attend Hogwarts.” He paused. “I’m afraid I must leave you now, dear girl.”

“Father?” She needed to ask.

“Yes?”

“Who is my mother?” she asked away. She figured that now that he needed her, he couldn’t hurt her for asking.

The seconds that lasted the silence lingered in her like a death sentence.

“Your mother ran away as she had the chance. I would be tarnishing your name by speaking of her.”

She knew that wasn’t the truth; she sensed it in his voice.

“Did you love her?”

He breathed heavily; he was getting tired of this conversation. He swiftly approached her once again.

“Love does not exist. Don’t let them bewitch your mind.”

And just like that, he vanished through dark smoke.

ྀ࿔

“Hogwarts. What a pathetic excuse for a school,” Draco snapped. “I’d pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower if I had to continue for another two years.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pansy Parkinson, close friend of Draco, replied.

“Let’s just say, I don’t think you’ll see me wasting my time in Charms class next year.”

Draco, Pansy and Blaise were sitting down in a wagon of the Hogwarts Express. Draco knew it was his last time returning to Hogwarts. He also knew his biggest stress this year was not going to be about returning good grades home or beating Potter in the Quidditch finals. The Dark Lord had commended him a very important mission, and now that his father was facing sentence in Azkaban, he had to bear with the responsibility of the family’s loyalty towards the Dark plan.

Blaise blurted out a small chuckle to Draco’s words.

“Amused, Blaise?” the blonde boy replied. “We’ll see just who’s laughing in the end.”

Draco heard a noise coming from the rack above their seats and saw his bag having slightly been moved. Someone was eavesdropping on the conversation through an invisibility spell, and he bet on bloody Potter. He didn’t talk much after knowing the conversation was not confidential. In what twisted pathetic adventure was Potter trying to be the hero on this time? His blood was boiling by just having to pretend not knowing he was there. That tosser that everyone always praised – he wouldn’t last two days in his position. After all, life was not about heroic acts, corny speeches, and lucky fate – some people had been given a family name to respect, an expectation to be met. He thought, once again, about the mission that had been commended to him by the Dark Lord; how his wand would have to end the life of the greatest wizard alive; how he would go onto History as the man who assassinated Albus Dumbledore. He realized his hands were sweaty and his heartbeat higher than normal. He tried to keep his composure in front of everyone in the wagon and fixed his gaze on the rich green Scottish fields – clouds welcoming him to a thunderstorm.

ྀ࿔

“Ah! Y/N Diggory! Come in, come in…” Dumbledore greeted the girl in his office.

“Thank you,” she replied, following Snape. She didn’t take too much time to have a look at the curious, but glamorous place.

“Do you fancy my office? I must admit I am really fond of collecting peculiar objects,” he approached a table where all sorts of outlandish things were scattered. She noticed the blackness of his hand when he grabbed one of the objects, “I don’t always know what they do but I find them really unique as room decoration, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure being the headmaster has its advantages when it comes to decorating.”

“Oh, being the headmaster has plenty of advantages, Miss. Diggory,” he replied in a whispery tone.

“Now, you, as a new Hogwarts student, have also a lot of advantages;” he continued, “First of all, you are skipping from year one to year six, so you won’t have to bear first years’ Potions on how to make a cure for boils or first year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts on how to cast an Expelliermus.”

You simply nodded.

“Then, Professor Snape has told me that you’ve already passed through the Sorting Hat and you have been assigned to Slytherin, is that correct, Severus?”

“It is.”

It was not correct. She hadn’t gone through any house assignation, but she understood that Dumbledore didn’t know about it, and that Snape had probably settled her in Slytherin for a reason – therefore, she didn’t question it.

“Wonderful. An ambitious, clever girl, I see”.

She smirked at him. She bet he was not by any means a Slytherin himself.

“Lastly, I assume you have all this year’s textbooks, ingredients, plants, constellation maps, perhaps? Oh! I assume you have a pet by now! And a wand…”

She looked at Snape, knowing that she hadn’t bought any of those things herself. Except for the wand that she got at Ollivanders when she was eleven, after Druella had told her she would get a private tutor to teach her magic.

“She has,” Snape simply replied, without giving her any look back.

“Then everything seems to be settled. How are you feeling, Miss. Diggory?” Dumbledore deeply stared at her. This time, she felt like he really wanted to know the answer.

“Really honored to join the school, Sir.”

“My door is always open for any visits. Never underestimate the magic of being listened, Miss. Diggory.”

She nodded and followed Snape downstairs, thinking she was probably never going to step into that office again.

Snape and Y/N arrived at the dungeons of the school, where the Slytherin dormitories could be found. Snape turned around to talk to Y/N.

“All of your things are in your dorm, number 3, all the schedule and times are also in your dorm, the password to the common room is pure-blood… don’t want you sneaking after ten p.m. or you could get… into trouble.” His intimidating black eyes were on hers. He turned around with a swing of his cape.

“Oh,” He turned towards her again, “supper starts at six.”

She was alone in the castle for the first time. She uttered the password on a low voice and a bare stretch of stone wall opened, leading her to a corridor. Once she walked through it, only lightened by torches hang up on the stone walls, she arrived at the common room. It was a high ceiling, ample room; dark green shades flickering from the multiple windows. Low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas were placed all around the room; skulls on top of tables; and dark wood cupboards. Tapestries of numerous medieval figures decorated the walls. Y/N noticed the highlighted portrait of an old man that she recognized to be Salazar Slytherin, founder of the Slytherin house and one of the four founders of Hogwarts. She knew this because she was a distant relative of his, through her father of course. She noticed she was alone and headed directly to her dorm.

Her dorm was a five-bed room with one bathroom. She recognized her bag next to one of the beds. On the side table, she found a pile of textbooks; she started leafing through some of the books: Advanced Potion-Making, A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration, Flesh-Eating Trees Of The World… Her eyes wondered to the parchment at the right where her schedule and attending courses were shown. She started to read through the different school norms and times when she felt something brushing her leg. She startled at the contact when she saw a small black kitten going under her bed. She kneeled and grabbed it, putting it on the bed. The kitten had big emerald eyes that were looking into hers, as if it had some sort of human spirit inside.

“You must be my pet, huh?” She grabbed it again and looked to confirm the sex. “A Miss… Should give you a name, shouldn’t I?” She laid down on her bed caressing the kitten on her chest, thinking of a name for her. She realized that it was the first time she let herself sink down and relax since her arrival. A lot of thoughts were constantly crossing her mind telling her to focus on everything, to plan everything, to think about everything – it was exhausting. Exhausting… she came up with something.

“Your name is Exhonia. What do you think?” she asked the kitten as if she was going to reply. The kitten was scratching her jumper.

“Okay Exhonia, don’t get too ahead on yourself.” She grabbed the rather turbulent cat and placed it next to her on the bed.

The only time she had ever dealt with a cat was a the Diggory’s house, near Ottery St Catchpole. Cedric’s pet had been a brown and white cat, a rather upset one she might add, especially when Cedric was not around anymore. She had gone to the Diggory’s a month after the boy’s death when Father had asked her to.

“What can I do for you, dear?” a middle-aged man, short and plump opened the door of the cottage.

“My name is Y/N, Sir – is this the Diggory’s house?”

“Yes, yes… what is it that you want?” he wouldn’t entirely open the front door, as if he didn’t trust the world outside.

“I came to talk to you. I was really close to Cedric.”

The man seemed to freeze.

“And I was hoping to come and meet you since you would’ve been my father-in-law”.

And that is how she managed to spend a year living under the roof of the Diggorys. Amos Diggory fully believed her when she told him the story of how she was supposed to marry Cedric once he would end the Triwizard Tournament; how they had wanted to wait until the end of it to tell his parents. She told him, through a little bit of sobbing, how her parents had dropped dead on a car accident, being herself a muggle-born, and that the only family she had left was the Diggorys – even if she had never met them before. Amos and his wife found in her a beam of light; the spirit of Cedric in a beautiful fifteen-year-old girl. They never questioned the story, nor her intentions and adopted her as a Diggory that had always belonged in the family. It was not until one year later that Y/N shared with them her dream of attending Hogwarts, as Father had contacted her back and told her it was time she fulfilled her mission. They accepted with little objection, happy that they could spoil a girl as they once did to Cedric. Y/N, as a sign of gratitude, asked them if she could inherit their last name, to which they happily agreed. She became Y/N Diggory, niece of Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, as she told them it would be more appropriate taking into consideration that no one knew about her planned marriage with Cedric. Even if Y/N didn’t really want to get mingled in the Diggorys life, she knew they were living in delusion, desperately looking to fill the void of their son’s death – which Y/N, in a way, managed to do. They were in need of a miracle, she offered them the fairiest of fairy tales… who cared if it was all a script of lies at the end of the day?

Her thoughts came back to the present moment when she heard a bell chiming the hour. Six, so she counted. She decided to go down for supper, still curious that no students had yet come to the common room.

She walked up the stairs and dived through the hallways, meeting no one on the way. When she started to hear some familiar voice she recognized as to Dumbledore’s, she followed it, understanding she was somehow late to some sort of first day speech. But in the middle of her wanderings, an old-wrinkled man with a cat yelled at her.

“And what do you think you’re doing lurking in the hallways?” He firmly grabbed her by the arm.

“I was looking for the Great H- let go of me!” she replied, trying to get rid of his grip.

“The headmaster will hear about your wanderings, young lady!” He dragged her towards the doors of the Great Hall. Both doors slammed open when he pushed them with his bare hand. Dumbledore’s speech was immediately interrupted. Hundreds of eyes turned towards the old man’ and Y/N’s direction.

“Headmaster, sorry to provoke such an entrance but I found this girl wandering around the castle, missing the opening ceremony” he gave her away to everyone in the room. He pushed her forward so everyone could see who he was screaming about.

She stood at the beginning of the corridor between the students’ tables. She looked ahead, Dumbledore standing up in a podium, several professors sitting down behind him and, of course, a few inches away from her, long tables filled with students of different ages, different houses, staring at her like she was the most bizarre specimen. She decided to say something.

“Sir, I-“

“There’s no need, Miss. Diggory,” after her last name had been dropped, all students started to look at each other, mumbles starting to form, “you can join your table with the other Slytherin students.”

She didn’t reply, hearing how the room had become a cloud of voices at this point.

“Thank you Argus for the help. But, Miss. Diggory was just lost, being this her first day at Hogwarts.” The voices intensified. “Now, while it is always very joyful to welcome new students, I must ask you to stop the chatter.” Students seemed to listen to him, and seconds later there was little to no sound.

Y/N sat down on the first free seat at the Slytherin table, still feeling like half of the students’ gazes were settled on her. Once Dumbledore had proceeded with his speech, she discretely took a look on the people that surrounded her. Four large tables divided the Great Hall, one for each house. Her gaze wondered through the Gryffindor table, looking for a certain scared-boy. She of course knew about the prophecy, as well as she knew the history between him and her father. She had thought about eventually meeting Harry Potter but never really figured how she would react to his presence. Should she hate him, pity him, fear him? The boy was her age – which didn’t leave a lot of room for fear. But she was still curious to see how they would react to one another, even if the boy was unaware of who her father was, as well as everyone. She guessed she would eventually meet the chosen one during class.

Her eyes turned back to Dumbledore, who was finishing talking, when someone pulled their arm towards her.

“They are calling you from there,” a dark-haired boy told her, while pointing to the other side of the long table.

She switched her focus to look for the person who was calling her. A blonde boy tilted his head down to meet her gaze. He playfully tilted his eyebrows while a smirk made its way to his face. She smiled at him while slowly shaking her head. It was no other than the heir of the Malfoys himself. He stared deep into her eyes a little longer, then shifted his gaze back to some Professor that had started talking. She looked at him a little longer, letting herself feel for no more than five seconds the accelerated heartbeat that she was still unfamiliar with. She eventually switched her gaze back to the Professor too. The Slytherin heir was back at Hogwarts, and this time, she had the Prince of Slytherin by her side.

part two

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 10

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Angst, tension, violence

₊˚✩⊹

Wars knew you were special, after all you were the one person in the group who wasn’t Hylian, much less some prophetic hero. But he knew you were more, your visual differences were just the top layer of your peculiarity.

At first, he was very wary of you and your presence. The hours spent examining you and talking to Time about your situation left him lost and frustrated beyond relief. You were strange, and he didn’t like it. He wanted to be nice, of course, he understood the fear and uncertainty you were feeling about the group, as he reciprocated the same feeling toward you: uncertainty and distrust. 

Initially, he was hoping that you’d find your way home after a few weeks or months, brushing it off as another lost soul needing guidance and a hero’s promise. But that goal didn’t last long as it was over a year, bordering a year and a half and so much had happened. He felt like… the group wasn’t complete without you, as much as he hated to admit that.

You made the journey feel less depressing and burdensome. Every day was new and undiscovered with you, whether it be a new piece of your own life uncovered to them or a new joke you used, he was in awe.

…

He needed to tell you how he felt, and he wanted to as soon as you left the inn, giving himself an excuse to follow because you might be in danger. When he saw the Vet being there, he stilled. This was not the plan.

He watched the entire scene go down, wincing at your sharp tone, hoping nobody else woke up from that. A person or two shuffled in their sleep, but no one work up. Next thing he saw was you on Legend’s lap, both of you lost in each other.

He should have been happy for you two, Hylia knows Vet needed someone for ages. She owed him something for all the shit he’s been through… but why did it have to be you? Sweet, kind, beautiful you?

And… didn’t you already have something going on with Time and/or Twilight? Even possibly Sky?

Was this a ruse? Surely you wouldn’t be the type, no, you were smarter than that. 

Right?

~

“And you’re sure this will work?” Time asked Wild.

Wild was readjusting his facial covering, sighing with annoyance, “For the last time, I’ve done this tens of times before. All I need from you and the rest of the group is to sit still at the Oasis while Y/n and I go talk to Riju in Gerudo Town. It’ll draw way too much attention if all of us come in, even if we got vai garb for you.”

“Right… how long do you think you both will take?”

“We should be back at the Oasis a little after sundown. We’ll take sand seals to get to the village, so the majority of the day will be spent talking to the Chief.”

Time nods, “Just be cautious, you never know who can pass the guards, even something as heavily guarded as Gerudo Town. I’d know.”

While Wild was talking to the old man, You were fastening your supplies onto your sash, going through your checklist of supplies.

You fidgeted with your necklace, tracing the Hylian insignia to calm you down. 

Why the hell were you so nervous?

“You’re nervous.” Four stated, eyeing your necklace. You hum.

“We’ll be right here the entire day, waiting for you. Just stick with the Champion and you’ll be fine.” You nod, seems simple enough to follow.

With a few waves and nods, you and Wild were off on your Sand Seals, being the most efficient and quick way to reach Gerudo Town.

The wind was refreshing, despite the sun beating its rays down upon you, as if it was trying to test your limits of heat. Wild was practically showing off, doing twists and hops, just laughing at his own antics. You’ve shield surfed before, but having the extra pull and momentum gave an extra edge to the thrill.

Wind would love this. You’d have to show him when you got back that night.

Before you knew it, you and Wild approached Gerudo Town, handing off the reigns to a merchant and heading towards the two guards stationed in front of the main entrance.

“What is your reason of being here?” she asked, voice deep.

Wild looked at you, reminding you that you were the main spokesperson for today.

“Ah- right. We have an appointment with Chief Riju?”

The two guards give each other a glance before letting you in, your shoulders releasing the tension the second you passed the threshold. 

Wild led you forward, pointing out a few stalls that you’d both check out later as he needed to restock on a few ingredients anyways. You saw a few jewelry and clothing stalls, and even a tattoo parlor that seemed brand new. You didn’t remember seeing it when you played through the game.

You felt Wild clasp your hand in his, leading you up the stairs to the throne room. You could hear a few voices talking, no doubt something related to your meeting.

“Ah! Link! There you are. And this must be your friend, Y/n. I’ve heard so much about you!” Riju exclaims, already making her way towards you.

You panicked, bowing to her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chief Riju.”

She waves her hands, “Oh please! There’s no need for such formalities, any friend of Link’s is a friend of mine. Please, just call me Riju.”

You stand up straight, nervously fumbling with your necklace again, a clear indicator that you were not the best at being social. How was Wild being so nonchalant? 

“We came for the… updates. You mentioned in your letter something about the desert ruins and possibly the Yiga Clan?”

Letter? Wild never mentioned a letter-

“Ah, yes! Follow me, I have some information in my study. I sent you the letter months ago, but there’s been some developments…” she trailed off, leading you both to her room.

You gave him a look. 

Why was everyone keeping things from you? First Legend now Wild…

What else do you not know?

“Like I was saying, we’ve found some old artifacts sticking out from the remains of the Arbiter’s Grounds. It doesn’t serve much purpose to us, but we thought you could take a look and see if its anything you might be booking for or might help.”

Riju handed Wild a flat object covered in a beige tarp. He untied the loose knot, uncovering the black slab of rock with familiar markings on it.

“That’s a piece of the Twilight Mirror. How…”

Riju looks at you, “Ah, so you do know what it is! I presumed it had something to do with the Twili tribe but I wasn’t sure. I should’ve known you would have found it familiar, after all you’re the hero’s guide.”

You hum, you were still getting used to the title. It didn’t sit right with you that people regarded you in such a high manner. It was unnatural, considering your background.

“Did you see any other possible artifacts or pieces of the mirror? The rest couldn’t have gone far.”

Riju sighs dejectedly, “No, unfortunately. The research team scouted out the ruins high and low and even dug under a few feet, but nothing came up. There were some markings on the old columns, but nothing noteworthy.”

She pauses for a moment before turning back to Link, “However, the Yiga Clan showed up halfway through the research, though not in a hostile manner. At least, not towards us. Toward Link, Y/n, and your group, rather. They mentioned something about hooded figures entering their hideout demanding your guide.”

Wild stiffens at that and turns to you, “Weren’t those the figures you were reading about?”

You nod. Shit, you left the book back at the Oasis. You always manage to forget something.

“Chie- Riju, did the Yiga mention anything about the hooded figures? Did they look peculiar or mention anything of importance?”

Riju thinks for a moment. 

“One of the Yiga members did mention they wore full-length black robes, and had masculine voices. They also said one threatened a clan member using Fae magic, though Fae magic is almost unheard of, at least in this time period. I can’t offer much information right now, as I didn’t directly talk to the member, but I can corroborate with one of my guards that went on the short expedition and write down notes to mail to you.”

“That would be really helpful, thank you Riju.” Link states.

“Do you mind if we hold onto this mirror shard? It's small enough for us to travel with and it might prove to be useful in our… travels.” There was no easy way to put interdimensional and time travel into casual conversation, but Riju got the meaning behind his words.

“Yes, of course. I suggest wrapping it up in a tarp or cloth as this material is very peculiar and we don’t know what it's capable of.”

Link rewrapped the mirror shard, storing it in his Sheikah Slate. You’d have to examine it later, maybe take a closer look at the hieroglyphics if you can.

“I’ll have the guards escort you out, as I have a few more meetings to get to with a few ambassadors from outside of the desert. It was wonderful meeting you, Y/n. I do hope we meet again soon,” she said with a smile. You thanked her, waving goodbye as you and Link made your way back to the main plaza.

“I’m gonna go stock up on a few things. You can go look around if you want, just don’t leave without me.”

You nod wordlessly, meandering about the main square as you examine all sorts of wares. You didn’t have the chance to get a ton of rupees in a while, so you were a bit tight on what you could get, but you bought a small ruby ring for a certain bunny, as a small thanks for being vulnerable with you. It was nothing compared to what you wanted to verbally express to him, but it was just a small symbol of trust and appreciation.

Stuffing the ring into your pouch, you keep walking around the town, munching on a piece of Hydromelon. It was in season, so the flavors were bursting on your tongue.

You made your way around a corner, finding it to be a dead end. You were about to turn around to make your way back to the main square before someone wrapped their hand around your mouth, cutting off your terrified scream. Before you had the chance to blink, paper fluttered in front of your eyes, masking your vision.

All that was left in your place were a few, red paper rectangles, signaling a Yiga clan member had trespassed Gerudo walls: an invasion.

~

The sun had set almost two hours ago and the chain was starting to get on edge.

“They’re taking too long.”

“They should’ve been here by now. Where are they?”

The younger members were starting to pick up on both of your absences, thoughts already assuming the worst. Wild was capable of handling his safety, but you? As much as they liked to think you’ve gotten experience and plenty of training from each of them, you could have been harassed, cornered, kidnapped, killed-

Everyone snapped their heads to the sound of violent panting, already knowing its Wild.

Wars ran up to him, gripping his arm to support Wild.

“Where is she, Wild. She should’ve been with you-”

“-They took her.”

₊˚✩⊹

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 10 - Since Last I Held That Hand In Mine

Summary: The Course of True Love and other Revelations

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

AN: ~8k words, I want to start tagging people in the next chapters. So if you'd like to be tagged when I post let me know!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

As the soft light of dawn filtered through the trees, the melodious chorus of birdsong stirred Kate from her slumber. Rising from her cot, she welcomed the new day with a sense of purpose. Arthur's unexpected kiss last night had left her reeling, yet she felt its undeniable reality like the solid ground beneath her feet.

From the moment they first met, something about Arthur had intrigued her—an unspoken vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. She glimpsed it again last night, in the tender way he cradled Jack and the gentle touch of his calloused hands against her cheek. His kiss carried a longing, a shared ache that resonated with her own soul.

Despite the stories she had heard about Arthur's reputation as an outlaw, Kate refused to believe that violence defined him. She sensed a yearning for a better life within him, much like her own. He desired a world where strength did not equate to brutality, where he could shed the role of a hardened outlaw for something more tender and genuine.

With a satisfying stretch, Kate rose from her cot and cast a glance toward Arthur's tent, finding it empty—an indication that he was already up and about. Determined to catch him, she made her way over to the chuck wagon, exchanging greetings with others in camp as she helped herself to breakfast. Despite her hopes of a shared meal, she realized Arthur must have been out working already. Slightly disappointed, she sat alone, her thoughts lingering on their fleeting moment and the desire for another chance to talk.

As the day passed swiftly, Kate kept an eye out for Arthur's return, but to her surprise, he hadn't shown up by dinner. Contemplating waiting through the evening, she hesitated, feeling the ache of sore muscles from chopping wood and hauling buckets of water. Eventually, she resigned herself to the night, hoping for a better opportunity in the morning.

The following day mirrored the routine—Kate rising early, only to find Arthur's tent deserted once more. Concern gnawed at her as she asked Karen, who had been on guard duty the previous night, if Arthur had returned. The answer was no, leaving Kate troubled and wondering about the cause of his absence.

By the evening of the third day, Kate's worry had escalated into a swirling storm of thoughts. Had she said or done something to upset him? Did Arthur regret their shared kiss, causing him to avoid her? Unable to find solace in uncertainty, she tossed and turned that night, her mind racing with possibilities and unanswered questions.

The next morning, Kate was roused from sleep by the rhythmic sound of approaching hoofbeats. Her heart quickened with hope, expecting to catch a glimpse of Arthur's brilliant white mare, Belle. However, it was Charles arriving on Taima, dismounting with a few pheasants in tow. Kate rubbed her temple, frustrated with herself for feeling so eager. Since when have I become such a lovesick maiden? She thought bitterly, pushing the thoughts aside. Determined to appear nonchalant, she pulled on her boots and made her way over to Charles by the hitching post.

"Morning, Charles," she greeted, leaning casually against the post.

"Good morning, Kate," Charles replied warmly.

She couldn't hide the uncertainty in her voice. "Have you seen Arthur lately? I, um, wanted to talk with him about something."

Charles glanced back toward the trail. "He should be back any minute. I ran into him on my way in. I think he was out with Trelawny for a bit, robbing a stagecoach or something," he muttered, focusing on his hunt.

Kate blew out a breath and turned back toward camp, searching for some work to distract her while she waited for Arthur's return. To her surprise, she noticed Hosea waving to her from the center of camp. He sat comfortably in a folding chair, a newspaper folded in his lap.

"How's the heat treating that bullet wound?" Hosea asked, his tone friendly yet concerned.

Kate placed a hand over her stitches. "Aside from sweating through all the cloth, I'd say it's healing just fine," she replied with a smile. "And how are you feeling?"

Hosea waved off her concern with a chuckle. "I'm as good as they come, sweetheart, just an antique in need of a little polish, is all." He motioned for Kate to take a seat across from him, and she obliged.

"I've been thinking," Hosea continued, "you're a smart woman, and we could certainly use your help in this mess we've found ourselves in between the two dumbest families in Lemoyne."

Kate was about to voice her concern when Hosea cut in again. "Now, Arthur's told me you like to keep your nose out of trouble, and I don't blame you. Although it's not that easy when you're surrounded by a bunch of half-wits," he chuckled dryly.

Her mind lingered on the second part of their conversation. Arthur talked about me with him?

"I was thinking you and Arthur could go explore the Gray's plantation, talk to some folks, see what you can find out. Nothing illegal, no harming anybody, just gathering information."

Kate's face brightened at the prospect of spending the day with Arthur, even if it meant work. "I'd be happy to help, Hosea. I'll do my best to gather whatever information we need," she replied eagerly, a spark of determination in her eyes.

"Atta girl," Hosea nodded approvingly before calling out to Arthur, who had just returned to camp. "Arthur! Come join us. We're discussing a little venture for you and Kate. Think you two can handle Caliga Hall today?"

Arthur approached them with a warm smile, leaning casually against the post of the awning to escape the relentless sun. "I'm gone for three days, and suddenly you wanna run with the outlaws?" he teased, nodding towards Kate. "I thought you wanted to keep out of trouble."

Kate leaned back in her chair, a hint of smugness in her tone. "Last I checked, I've been running with outlaws for the past three weeks. Besides, there's no harm in talking to folks," she retorted confidently.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Well, Miss McCanon, wherever I go, trouble always seems to find me. You sure you want to go?"

Kate wasn't sure why Arthur was using formalities with her all of a sudden. Was he being playful or trying to create distance? Whatever his intentions, she was determined to find out. "I think you know better than most, Mr. Morgan. I can handle myself just fine," she replied, emphasizing the formality of his name.

Arthur chortled as he gestured for Kate to follow him towards the horses. "Well, c’mon then woman. We've got work to do!"

Kate glanced back at Hosea, who wore a knowing smile as he returned to his newspaper. It seemed as though everything had gone according to his plan. She began to wonder if he had invited her on purpose, giving the two of them a chance to talk alone.

Kate felt suddenly nervous as she followed Arthur towards the horses. His playful demeanor and the sudden use of her formal name had sparked a whirlwind of questions in her head. Was he trying to keep their interactions professional, given their recent intimate moment? Or perhaps he was trying to mask his own feelings, unsure of how to navigate the situation himself.

As they reached the horses, Kate grabbed the reins of her mare, Lorena, and glanced over at Arthur, who was securing his saddlebag. She couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered between them. A part of her felt a flutter of nerves. What if she misread the situation? What if their connection meant more to her than it did to him? She longed to talk to him about it, but found herself unsure how to broach the subject. 

As they rode through the bustling streets of Rhodes and then onto the dusty road leading to Caliga Hall, Arthur began to fill Kate in on his recent adventures. The past three days had been eventful, to say the least. Trelawny had tipped him off about a lucrative stagecoach passing through Rhodes, but tracking down the informant had taken longer than expected.

Arthur's voice was tinged with gravity as he recounted the ordeal. "Took me nearly two days to track down Trelawny. Turns out, the poor bastard had been snatched up by bounty hunters. They roughed him up pretty good too." His words were laced with concern, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for her earlier assumptions.

Kate listened intently, the rhythmic clop of their horses' hooves matching the steady pace of Arthur's story. The reality of their lives as outlaws became all too clear in that moment. Here they were, riding through the sunlit countryside, but the shadows of danger loomed ever closer. Trouble always seems to find me, and he wasn’t lying.

As Arthur finished recounting the past few days, some of Kate's concerns melted away. She realized how trivial her worries about their recent encounter had been. Arthur had been preoccupied with far weightier matters, yet he was here now, by her side. Perhaps his mind had raced with a million thoughts as well. 

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Kate said softly, her gaze fixed ahead on the winding road, “I hope your friend is alright. It sounds like you two have been through a lot.” 

Arthur turned to her, his expression softening. "No need to apologize, Kate. S’just part of the life we lead. Besides, it's good to be out here with you, away from all the chaos."

A soft flush crept up Kate's cheeks at Arthur's compliment, and for a fleeting moment, she entertained the idea of abandoning their mission altogether. The notion of spending the afternoon riding together, engaged in easy conversation, tugged at her thoughts like a gentle breeze. She longed to feel his lips on hers once more, the memory vivid in her mind—the taste of his mouth, the comforting scent of his presence.

With a bashful smile, Kate turned her gaze away, her attention drawn to the dusty road ahead. The path was flanked by open fields, the sprawling land filled with tobacco plants. As they approached the grand entrance of Caliga Hall, the imposing structure loomed in the distance, a reminder of the task that awaited them. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate marveled at the ease with which they slipped past the guards, thanks to Arthur's clever use of his newly acquired Sheriff badge and her guise as a journalist. The ruse seemed to fit naturally, lending an air of legitimacy to their visit. Their pretext? To delve into the rich history of the Gray family—a tale that promised intrigue and secrets.

Navigating through the vast estate, they engaged with a few hesitant workers, who reluctantly directed them toward Beau Gray, the youngest son of the family. The workers seemed wary, reluctant to speak openly about their employer, but they hinted that Beau was known for being talkative, perhaps to a fault.

They finally located Beau outside a tool shed, engrossed in scribbling a letter on an open book, seemingly evading his labor duties. His demeanor suggested a man eager for distraction, a perfect opportunity for Kate and Arthur to unravel the mysteries veiled within the Gray family legacy.

"Mr. Gray?" Arthur inquired, breaking the young man's focus from his notes.

Beau looked up with curiosity, setting aside his notation, “that would be my father, you can just call me Beau,” he replied, extending a hand towards Arthur before acknowledging Kate. “Hello miss,” he greeted with a nod, “what can I do for you friends?” 

Arthur, ever the jester, retorted, "Oh, we's friends now, are we?" 

Beau chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Not yet, but here's hoping," he quipped, flashing a friendly smile. "You know, we don't get a lot of traveling men around here, and suddenly there's a whole phalanx of mysterious, yet strangely helpful Yankees about the place." 

Arthur's hand unconsciously drifted to his gun belt as the other scratched his chin. "Is that so?" he replied, intrigued by Beau's sudden observation. 

Sensing the tension, Kate interjected, "Mr. Gray—sorry, Beau—we'd just like to ask you some questions about your family. You see, we're writing an article for the paper about your tobacco fields. The plantation has been quite successful, especially since the war." 

Beau eyed her with suspicion, snapping his book closed. "And what did you say your name was, Miss?"

Kate hesitated, feeling the weight of her fabricated identity. "I'm Madeleine. Madeleine McCanon," she stammered, her confidence waning.

"Miss Madeleine, you're either a terrible journalist or an exceptional bullshitter," Beau teased with a grin. "Nobody in this old dust bucket town gives a damn about our tobacco fields. They're too busy getting drunk off the Braithwaites' moonshine." 

Kate gawked, “I um, well we—you see we’re just,” she stumbled over the words. Arthur eyed the young man with a threatening gaze. 

Suddenly, Beau burst into laughter, slapping his book against his thigh. "I'm just messin' with ya, Miss! I can tell you're looking for something. And it ain't some groundbreaking story. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," he assured with a wink.

Kate flushed with embarrassment, unsure if she had just blown their cover.  Was I really that obvious? Perhaps they weren’t the first travelers to sniff around their family feud. Arthur smirked under his hat and hid his gaze from Kate, it amused him to see her so flustered on her first job. Especially since she had teased him so many times with her own playful jabs. 

Arthur maintained his facade as a simple sheriff. "I don't know nothin' 'bout a secret," he replied casually, playing along with the charade. 

"Well, I got a secret of my own," Beau announced, setting his book down on a nearby wooden crate.

"You secretly normal?" Arthur quipped under his breath, shooting a quick glance at Kate.

Beau raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Nothin’," Arthur muttered, scratching the back of his neck. Kate swallowed a laugh at Arthur's impatience with the boy—a side of him she hadn't seen before. When he wasn't being gruff or soft, he could be surprisingly playful.

Unfazed, Beau continued, "The thing is, I don't care if you kill the whole lot of us," surprising Kate with his nonchalance, "and the Braithwaites too," he added in a hushed tone, checking around to ensure they weren't overheard.

Kate raised her hands defensively. "We ain't here to kill anyone."

"I love her, you know," Beau declared earnestly.

Arthur exhaled. "Love who?"

"Penelope," Beau replied dreamily, then shook his head. “But it's impossible, she’s a Braithewaite.” 

Kate couldn't help but smile at the young man's lovesick dream. "Love tends to be complicated," she added sympathetically. 

"I'm the son of Tavish Gray, nephew of Leigh Gray, and the grandson of old Murdo Gray," Beau paced with frustration. Arthur crossed his arms and leaned against the wooden shed, letting Beau ramble.

"We Grays have been loyal to the state. We've been murdering Braithwaites for years," Beau explained, revealing the deep-seated family feud. Kate's nerves prickled; this feud was more than stolen goods and moonshine—it was generations of bloodshed, and could get very ugly if they were not careful. 

"Why are your families so hell-bent on killing each other?" Kate asked, intrigued.

"Who the hell knows! It was so long ago nobody even remembers," Beau exclaimed, his hands waving through the air. 

Kate shot a glance at Arthur. This feud was messy, and they were tracking mud through their own home. "Sounds like a lot of blind loyalty and stupidity," she remarked.

"Exactly!" Beau exclaimed with emphasis, relieved that someone understood. "Why should I be loyal to some nonsense while she—" He paused, breathless, as thoughts of Penelope overwhelmed him. "Oh, Miss Madeleine, she's amazing."

Arthur chuckled at Beau's lovesick revelations as he continued. "She's like a woman from the future! Like tomorrow… if tomorrow turns out fine."

Kate smiled warmly, a glimmer in her eyes. Oh, to be young and in love again, she thought. She had missed that feeling—the rush of emotions, the intensity of desire. It was as if Beau and Penelope were characters straight out of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, caught in the throes of a tragic family feud. Yet, despite the adversities, nothing could sever the deep bond they shared. She silently hoped their story would have a different ending than the fairytale. 

Arthur stepped away, shaking his head slightly. “Kid, I’m sorry for your predicament. But there ain't much we can do ‘bout that. We don’t wanna get involved in your family’s feud.” he said firmly as he started to walk off. Beau looked crestfallen, and Kate hung back for a moment.

Turning to her with pleading eyes, Beau implored, "Please, Miss, will you help me?" Arthur halted at his question. "I'll pay you. The Grays, we always have money."

Taking Beau's hand in hers, Kate spoke confidently, "Of course I'll help you, Beau, and please, keep your money." Arthur shot her a disapproving look, but she paid it no mind. 

Beau's face brightened as he hurriedly finished addressing his letter to Penelope. “oh thank you! Thank you miss, I know she loves to sit out in the gazebo on the edge of the Braithewaite property,” he explained, sealing the envelope with a lick. He then pulled out a small blue box from his pocket and handed it to Kate gently.  “Will you give her this bracelet too? It's real sapphire, a brilliant blue, just like her eyes.” 

Kate nodded, tucking the items into her bag. Her heart ached as she looked at Beau, wishing she could pluck the two lovebirds from their tangled nest and set them free. They deserved happiness. Families could be complicated, and blind loyalty only served to clip wings and poison blood. The least she could do was deliver a letter for him.

As they mounted their horses and set off towards Braithwaite Manor, Arthur finally voiced his thoughts on Kate's new approach to the family feud.

"So, now we're running errands for the boy with puppy eyes for some Braithwaite woman?" Arthur remarked, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. He seemed agitated that Kate had agreed to deliver the letter, for free nonetheless. "We were supposed to be gathering information, not delivering little trinkets and love letters."

"We can do both, Arthur," Kate responded calmly, her gaze steady. "We've learned that this feud runs deep and has a lot of history. We also know how influential the Grays are in this town, and they've got money—according to Beau, at least. Besides, this gives us an opportunity to speak with a Braithwaite. If Penelope is anything like Beau, she might shed some light on this mess."

Arthur sighed and shook his head. "This just seems foolish. Sneakin’ onto their property, looking for some young maiden. What if we get caught?"

Kate chuckled. "Oh, don't tell me you and Mary never snuck around," she teased. Arthur's head snapped in her direction at the mention of Mary's name. "Yeah, the girls told me all about that. You would sneak out of camp just to see her. Abigail even mentioned her father catching you two in the barn once—"

"Alright, that's enough," Arthur interjected, clearly embarrassed. "That's different. And remind me to tell the girls to quit gossipin’ about my love life," he muttered.

"It's not so different, Arthur," Kate continued, her voice softening. "It's young love. Delivering this letter is the right thing to do, the kind thing. And it might benefit us too. And don’t give me that 'what if we get caught' nonsense. You're a damn thief!" She grinned.

Arthur chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips. "Can't argue with that, I reckon.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As they approached the grand white manor, Arthur led the way with purpose, and Kate followed closely behind. They dismounted their mares and hitched them to a sturdy tree just shy of the estate's property line. With a finger pressed to his lips, Arthur gestured for Kate to follow him quietly.

They moved between small sheds and dense trees, keeping low to avoid the prying eyes of the guards patrolling the area. The shoreline provided some cover as they made their way toward the back of the manor. Then, just as they had hoped, they spotted a picturesque white gazebo adorned with bright yellow and pink tulips.

In the middle of the gazebo sat a young woman with a plait of golden yellow hair—Penelope Braithwaite. She was a vision against the backdrop of blooming flowers, her delicate features illuminated by the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees as she fanned herself in the heat. Kate could see how a young man like Beau would be enraptured by her. 

The two messengers approached Penelope as she sat on a chair in n the gazebo, Arthur taking the lead. "Are you Penelope Braithwaite?" he inquired politely.

"Why, yes I am," Penelope replied with a warm smile. "Who might you folks be?"

Arthur introduced himself, "Names Arthur, and this is Madel—"

"Kate," she interjected smoothly, correcting him. "Beau asked us to deliver a letter for him." Kate reached into her bag and produced the parcels, handing Penelope the letter first, followed by the small blue box, “and a gift.” 

Penelope's eyes sparkled with delight as she clutched the letters to her chest. "Oh, Beau!" she exclaimed, "he is just so—"

"Strange?" Arthur blurted out, earning a light smack on the arm from Kate and a pointed look.

Penelope giggled softly. "Well, yes, he is a bit strange. But also so human," she mused, rising to pour tea from a nearby pot. "Our families are stuck in the Dark Ages, or cave people perhaps. I don’t know," she explained, handing them each a cup of tea, which Kate accepted gratefully.

Penelope continued, her tone becoming more serious. "Beau, he's different from all that, you know? But if they found out about us, my family would kill him. And probably send me to live someplace horrible like… Ohio," she added, clearly disliking the idea.

Kate listened intently, settling into a wicker chair across from Penelope. Arthur stood to the side, leaning casually against the railing, sipping his tea as if he were content to let the women handle the conversation.

"Have you ever been to Ohio, miss?" Penelope inquired, her expression thoughtful. Kate shook her head in response.

"Well, neither have I, but my Uncle has a factory there. He was the only one to leave the family. But he’s still a vicious snob," Penelope sighed, clearly frustrated. "Families are... are..."

"Complicated," Arthur finished her sentence, his tone understanding. He placed his empty cup down on the railing and leaned back comfortably, arms crossed.

Penelope turned to Arthur, sitting up in her chair with curiosity. "Have you got a family, sir?"

Kate noticed the brief glance exchanged between them, Arthur's eyes darting away when they met hers. "No... not really, miss," Arthur answered softly, his gaze distant.

"Well, my family can’t stand me. They say my ideas are above my station," Penelope huffed, her grievances evident. "They can all rot," she added sourly.

Kate sympathized with her, she was feeling suffocated by her family, misunderstood and invisible. From what Beau had shared about the ongoing family feud and the rigid divisions between the Grays and Braithwaites, Kate could understand why Penelope felt trapped. The feud seemed to extend beyond mere disputes over land or assets; it was ingrained in their identities, dictating their choices and relationships. The gravity of their circumstances painted a vivid picture of the isolation and despair that came from being caught in such a divisive and long-standing conflict. 

As a woman of Penelope's status, Kate understood that her family would likely orchestrate a marriage, selecting a suitor deemed suitable based on social standing and economic advantage. This prospect robbed Penelope of her agency, relegating her fate to the whims of her kin. It was not a fate she wished upon anyone, unable to choose whom you love. 

Penelope pulled a delicately sealed envelope from her purse and slid it across the table toward Kate. "If you see Beau again, could you please give this to him?" she asked earnestly.

Kate smiled warmly and took the letter without hesitation. "Of course, Penelope. I'd be happy to," she replied, her eyes reflecting Penelope's joy.

The young woman beamed gratefully. "I can't thank you enough!"

After bidding Penelope farewell, Kate and Arthur retraced their steps back toward their waiting horses, moving with stealth to avoid drawing attention from the vigilant guards. As they reached the safety of their mounts, Kate turned to Arthur, anticipating his response.

"I know what you're gonna say, Arthur," she began, her tone determined. “But we still have all day. If there’s something else you need to do, I can manage here just fine." Sensing he may disapprove of another letter delivery.

Arthur mounted his horse, turning to her with a genuine smile, and fondness in his eyes, “I’m right where I need to be Kate,” his voice carrying a warmth that caught her by surprise, “lead the way.” 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As they rode back towards Caliga Hall, the late afternoon sun bathed the landscape in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the rolling hills and reflecting off the surface of the nearby lake. The air was filled with the soft sounds of birdsong and the rhythmic clop of their horses' hooves. Kate and Arthur rode side by side, their horses moving with an easy familiarity. Occasionally, their eyes met for fleeting moments. 

Approaching the stables, the rustic wooden buildings came into view, surrounded by the verdant greenery of the estate grounds. Amidst the bustle of stable hands and horses, the figure of Beau Gray emerged, his attention wholly focused on grooming his chestnut mare.

Kate dismounted gracefully, her boots landing softly on the packed earth. Arthur followed suit, swinging down from his horse with practiced ease. With a confident stride, the two approached Beau.

The young man looked up from his task, surprise lighting up his features as he recognized Kate and Arthur approaching. A broad smile spread across his face. "You're back so soon! Did she give you anything for me?" Beau asked eagerly.

Arthur casually draped his arms over the stable gate, leaning his weight against it as Kate retrieved the parcel once again from her bag. She handed it over to Beau's anxious hands, and he snatched it eagerly. "Oh, thank you!" he exclaimed, pushing past the gate and causing Arthur to stumble backwards.

"Easy, kid. Your woman ain’t goin’ anywhere," Arthur said with a chuckle, attempting to calm Beau's excitement.

Beau tore into the letter as he moved into the sunlight, finding a seat on a nearby wooden crate. Arthur shook his head with a smile and reached up to pat the boy's horse. Meanwhile, Kate moved to where Beau was sitting and leaned against the stable wall beside him while he read the letter.

"You two make quite the pair, you know," Kate mused, her gaze softening.

Beau glanced up briefly from the letter, his eyes filled with adoration. "Penelope is my sun and my stars, Miss. I count myself lucky to be graced by her light," he said poetically. It was clear that he loved her dearly.

Beau's eyes returned to scanning the handwritten letter, and after a moment, his voice grew concerned. "My god… this woman, she is going to get herself killed," he added, his tone grave.

Kate perked up at his comment, and Arthur turned around to face them. "What did she say?" he asked, curiosity etched on his features.

Beau sighed heavily, his distress evident. "The women’s suffrage march is today. 'Round here, they don’t even like the idea of men voting. They’d bring back the monarchy if they were given half the chance," he said with a bitter tone, placing a hand on his forehead in distress. "Progress is a dirty word in these parts, unlike incest," he added bitterly, folding the letter and sliding it into his back pocket.

He paced the floor of the stable, biting his nails eagerly as he continued to rant. "They want me to marry my cousin Matilda!" Kate grimaced at the idea. "I want to marry Penelope!" Beau's movements quickened, displaying the helplessness he felt in his heart. "They’re gonna—oh, her family will kill her if they know she’s at the rally!"

Kate intercepted his movements and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Take a breath, Beau," she urged, her voice calm.

But he seemed unable to calm down, continuing his lamentation and shaking his head at Kate. "They’ve done it before, miss. They locked her older sister in some old shed and left her there to die, all because she tried to run away."

"Shit," Arthur muttered under his breath, his expression darkening with concern.

Kate nodded understandingly, masking the fear that rose in her own heart. Their families were brutal, not only killing each other but murdering their own kin. Beau was not lying; Penelope would be harmed if something was not done. "What can we do?" she asked calmly.

"You’ve gotta help me," Beau pleaded, desperation clear in his eyes.

Kate nodded firmly, her resolve clear. "Of course we will, Beau. Where is the rally? We should get moving quickly." The young man eagerly nodded in response, slipping from her grasp to immediately start saddling the horse he had been brushing just moments ago.

Arthur stepped closer to Kate, his expression no longer one of annoyance but of genuine concern. He spoke in a low voice near her ear, his tone serious. "You know this is more than just runnin’ love letters now. This could get real ugly," he warned.

Meeting his gaze with determination, Kate replied firmly, "Nobody is dying today if I can help it. And I can’t in good conscience let them take this on alone. They’re just kids, Arthur."

He nodded with a solemn smile, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "You're a good woman, Kate," he said quietly.

Their moment was interrupted by Beau's urgent voice. "We're losing time, mount up!" he called out, already heading down the dirt path.

Kate and Arthur swiftly climbed into their saddles, ready to follow. "Slow down, kid!" Arthur shouted after Beau, who was racing ahead.

"If we don’t get there in time, my true love might be shot!" Beau retorted, his voice filled with worry as they tried to close the distance.

Arthur nudged his mare forward to catch up with Beau. "Listen, Beau. If she wants to rally, you gotta let her rally. It’s her choice," he advised.

"As good as the cause is, Mr., I can’t let her become a martyr for it," Beau replied earnestly. "I can’t marry some statue built in her honor."

"She's a smart woman, I'm sure she knows what she's doing," Arthur reassured him, his voice calm yet firm.

With Beau leading the way like a knight in shining armor, the trio left the plantation behind, galloping down the road toward Rhodes. The urgency in Beau's movements reflected his determination to reach his beloved in time.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

They swiftly approached the wagon at the intersection leading into Rhodes, where women gathered around the sides holding up signs, preparing to march for their rights. Kate was awestruck by the turnout—a formidable group of determined women, their resilience and strength on full display.

Beau nearly threw himself out of the saddle and approached Penelope eagerly, who looked shocked at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” she said earnestly.

Beau took her hands in his own, pleading, “I cannot let you go through with this, my love,” Penelope pulled her hands away disapprovingly, “they’ll kill you!” he urged.

“I’m ready to die for the cause,” she said rather dramatically, puffing out her chest and standing tall.

The young man gawked, his head turning between Penelope and Arthur before focusing on him altogether. “Do something, please!”

Arthur chuckled with a shake of his head, “Do what? Fight this mob?” He gestured to the group of women as the leader of the march gave a speech from atop a soapbox. “They’d eat me alive,” he quipped.

“This is not a laughing matter, sir! They need protection, mostly from my family. My uncle is the sheriff of this town, remember?” Beau said earnestly, turning his attention back to Penelope. “My darling, I beg you.”

Kate stepped between the two squabbling love birds, a determined look on her face. “I’ll tell you what, why doesn’t Arthur drive the wagon for you? That way you can focus on making your voices heard,” she suggested with a warm smile. “Beau and I will ride alongside you, keeping our eyes peeled for any signs of trouble.”

“Sure thing,” Arthur agreed, adjusting his hat. “I can handle that for you.”

Penelope beamed with gratitude. “That would be wonderful!”

Beau looked down, defeated, and Kate gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before they headed back to their horses. His lover climbed into the back of the wagon with the other girls as Arthur took up the reins.

Kate paused beside Beau, offering him heartfelt advice. “Beau, that woman of yours is like forged iron—strong, resilient, meant to withstand the heat. But if you try to hold her back, she'll start to rust. Let her show her strength, encourage her resilience. Support her, and you'll both turn out just fine.”

They followed along the back of the wagon as it began to steadily move down the dusty streets of Rhodes. Beau looked up at Kate with gratitude. “Thanks, Miss. I really appreciate that.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate found something profoundly captivating about forbidden love. It defied all reason and logic, drawing strength from adversity. Their love was a testament to resilience, a beacon of hope amidst turmoil. Despite every obstacle life threw their way, their love persisted like a flame in the dark, unwavering and enduring. It was a reminder of the spirit of young hearts, yearning for connection and understanding in a world fraught with division. The human desire to be loved would stretch across any ocean, face any storm. Kate wondered if Arthur's heart had felt like a hurricane the night they kissed, much like hers did.

As the wagon reached the end of the road near the bank, Arthur smoothly dismounted from the driver's seat and extended a hand to assist Penelope down. They had drawn quite a crowd—angry, drunken men stumbled out from their homes, shouting lewd remarks at the women.

“Mr. Morgan, I present to you the male of the species,” Penelope remarked sourly.

Arthur chuckled and rubbed his neck. “It’s a pretty dumb specimen, I’ll grant you that.”

The leader of the march ascended the stairs and resumed her impassioned speech. Arthur scanned the crowd and spotted Beau and Kate standing to the side of the building. Kate kept a watchful eye on the proceedings, while Beau's attention was solely focused on Penelope. Arthur noticed two men approaching them and decided to intervene.

“What are you doing here, boy?” demanded a balding man with a large gut, addressing Beau.

Without turning to meet his gaze, Beau replied sarcastically, “Hello, darling cousin.”

The man raised his hand as if to strike Beau. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that! Now answer me, what are you doing here?”

Beau sighed, showing annoyance but remaining unfazed by his cousin. “Trying to listen, I suppose,” he answered casually. Kate edged closer to Beau, assessing whether these men posed a threat. She shared a quick glance with Arthur, who was making his way towards them.

“Haven't you got something better to do? You cocky little—” The man raised his fist again, only to find Arthur gripping his wrist firmly. “What the?”

Swiftly, Kate positioned herself behind the second man and gently squeezed his shoulder. “We were just leaving,” she said calmly. “No need to get up in arms.”

“Who the hell are you?” the other man demanded.

“Like the lady said, we were just leaving,” Arthur repeated, guiding Beau away from the confrontation. They moved quietly to the back of the bank, out of earshot of Beau's relatives.

Once they felt they were out of immediate danger, Arthur chuckled and clapped a hand on Beau's back. “You know, I ain’t never voted before, but I'm kinda gettin’ hot for voting rights,” he joked.

Beau pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hide his smile. “I don’t know whether to take you seriously, Mr. Morgan,” he sighed. “My cousins are a cause for concern. If they found out about Penelope and me…”

“I think everyone already knows about Penelope and you,” Arthur said sympathetically. “I just met you and I already know about Penelope and you.”

Kate turned to them, adjusting her hat. “Beau, I think it's for the best if you just rip the band-aid clean off. The sooner it's out, the sooner it's resolved.”

The young man sighed deeply. “Our families, we bury our secrets and we bury them deep. If we come clean about this, we would both end up buried under some silo next week. That’s our family's idea of resolved.”

Kate and Arthur exchanged a sympathetic look. “Listen kid, I think you and the girl need to leave. Get out of here while you still can,” Arthur advised reassuringly.

The trio made their way over to their horses, the sounds of the women's rally having died down in the bacground. “I will,” Beau said hopefully. “Once I have enough money. My family, well, they have plenty of money. But I don't.” He glanced back toward where Penelope mingled with the crowd. “I love her, I truly do.”

“Well, if you stay long enough, maybe you’ll die for her too,” Arthur said gravely.

“I thought you were trying to make me feel better,” Beau quipped with a smirk. “But I should probably go before my cousins find me again.” He reached out a hand and shook Arthur's firmly. “I appreciate your help, Mr. Morgan.” Then he turned to Kate and did the same. “Miss, I can’t thank you enough for your kindness. I hope I see you again sometime.”

Kate placed her hand over his and smiled warmly. “And I hope that when we do, it's far away from this nonsense,” she added with a wink.

Beau mounted his horse and took off down the dirt road back toward the plantation. Turning her attention back to Arthur, a satisfying smile tugged at her lips as the two climbed into the saddle of their own mares and made their way out of town.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As evening settled in gracefully, casting a golden glow over the landscape, Arthur and Kate found themselves in a secluded haven about a mile from camp. They nestled into the soft grass near the serene shoreline of the lake, savoring a well-earned meal together. The air was filled with the delightful aroma of flowers, and the melodic song of mourning doves mingled with the soft rustle of leaves.

They laid out a simple feast of canned strawberries, crackers, and cheese, enjoying each bite amidst the tranquility of nature. The sun, now dipping toward the horizon, painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm and comforting light over the scene. The gentle breeze carried with it the whispers of the day, bringing a sense of peace and contentment.

Their horses, nearby but unbothered, grazed leisurely on the lush grass, grateful for the treat after the day's journey. As they shared this quiet moment together, the beauty of the surroundings seemed to mirror the warmth and closeness between them, creating a space of solace and connection away from the chaos of the world. 

Arthur removed his hat and laid back in the grass, he watched as Kate sat next to him, her eyes fixed on the changing colors dancing across the water's surface. In the warm glow of the sun, Arthur couldn't help but admire Kate's profile—the graceful curve of her nose, the delicate sweep of her eyelashes, the soft contour of her lips. Memories of the night they kissed stirred within him, a rush of nerves mingling with a sense of doubt. The past three days his mind had wrestled over the moment. 

As if sensing his gaze, Kate turned to meet his eyes, her own radiating warmth like the sun's gentle embrace., “I had a great time with you today,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of shared moments. “Thank you for staying with me, and helping those young love birds.” She smiled.

Arthur nodded, a slight breeze tousling Kate's hair. They sat so close the wind brought her scent right to his lungs, he could smell the lavender shampoo she used, and the sweet smell of strawberries on her breath. His heart began to thump loudly in his ears, the familiarity of her presence stirring something within him. “You certainly make it hard to say no,” he remarked with a faint smile, “those two make quite the pair. You think they'll be alright in the end?” 

Kate sighed wistfully, stretching out on her back beside him, their shoulders brushing lightly. "I know they'll figure it out," she said, her gaze drifting upward to the evening sky. "They're smart kids. They deserve happiness, especially in the midst of all they’ve been through." 

Arthur glanced skyward too, clouds morphing into shapes above them. "If only it turned out that way for everyone," he murmured quietly. 

Turning her attention back to him, Kate watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and studied the rough features of his face. She noticed the small scar on his chin beneath his beard. The dimple at the bottom of his nose, and the way it was slightly crooked. No doubt from a bar fight. Feeling bold, she snaked her hand through the grass until she felt the gentle warmth of his fingers. Sliding her own beneath his palm, seeking his touch. 

Arthur turned to her, his expression slightly surprised. The air between them felt charged, filled with unspoken words that seemed to hang in the balance. As Kate sat up, she extended her hand to stroke his cheek, feeling the softness of his beard beneath her fingertips. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she summoned her courage.

"Arthur," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "I want to kiss you again."

Arthur's throat tightened, his thoughts obscured by shadows of uncertainty. He gently released her hand from his cheek, but retained it in his own grasp, his touch conveying a mix of affection and restraint. He looked into her eyes, which held a sea of anticipation and vulnerability.

Kate blinked, her breath caught momentarily. The response she received was not what she had expected, and a flicker of disappointment passed over her features.

"Sweetheart," Arthur murmured softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin, "you're a good woman. I know that. But I’m not some starry-eyed, lovesick teenager anymore." His voice carried a raw honesty, revealing a vulnerability rarely seen. "I–I’m not a," He faltered, avoiding her gaze, his thumb seeking reassurance along the ridges of her knuckles. "I'm mean, nasty, and ugly. You, you’re kind, honest, and beautiful. I ain’t the kind of man you deserve."

Kate's eyes traced the shadows on his face cast by the setting sun, her heart heavy with understanding. She couldn't bear the weight of his self-doubt. "I don’t think that's true at all," she said softly, her voice a blend of compassion and conviction. "Arthur, you’ve got a good heart. Maybe it’s been hardened by life, but I see the man you are beneath it all."

Arthur glanced down, and Kate lifted her hand, placing it gently under his chin to urge him to meet her gaze. "We’ve all got our scars," she continued, her eyes reflecting unwavering sincerity. "But those scars don’t define who we are. You’re strong, and you’re capable of kindness. I see it in you."

Arthur's expression softened, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of gratitude and doubt. “Kate,” he murmured, his voice wavering. “I’ve seen things. Done things... I ain’t proud of. It’s just who I am, and I know I’m only gonna disappoint you.”

“But I’ve seen you stand up for what’s right,” Kate replied, her voice steady.

The air around them seemed to hold its breath, the evening sunlight filtering through the trees casting dappled patterns on their intertwined hands. Kate's touch was a silent reassurance, a gesture of unwavering support amidst the unspoken fears that haunted Arthur's mind.

As they sat there, a tranquil moment enveloped them, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds. Kate continued to hold his gaze, her eyes conveying a quiet determination. She believed in the goodness that lay beneath Arthur's hardened exterior, in the man he could be if given the chance.

Arthur had built walls around his heart, layers of protection forged from past regrets and hardships. But Kate was stubborn, undettered to find the cracks in those walls and gently chip away at them, revealing the heart within. She knew that beneath the rough exterior, Arthur deserved to feel the love and acceptance he had denied himself for too long.

“I’m sorry, Kate, but I can’t drag you down with me,” Arthur finally confessed, his voice heavy with regret, his inner turmoil laid bare by the words he spoke. He sat up abruptly, and Kate's hand fell into her lap. She longed to speak, to plead with him to stay and open up, but she sensed his nerves, his vulnerability. This was difficult for him, and he was struggling with his own demons. She realized this wouldn’t be easy. Real love takes time, effort, and patience.

“It’s getting late, we should head back,” he said standing, mounting Belle a moment later. Kate followed closely behind, settling into Lorena’s saddle. 

As Arthur led the way back to camp with a steady gait, Kate rode behind, her gaze fixed on the broad back of the man she was beginning to understand more deeply. Shadows lengthened in the fading light, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape, but within Arthur's heart, she sensed a darkness that transcended the approaching night.

She noticed how his shoulders tensed and relaxed with each movement of Belle beneath him, as if he carried the weight of the world on his broad frame. The air seemed charged with unspoken emotions, heavy with the weight of his doubts and fears.

Kate's heart ached with a newfound ambition. She knew Arthur wanted to be held like a knife—sharp and unyielding—but she was determined to hold him like water, gentle and patient, allowing his ambiguity and unease to slip through her fingers. She longed to reveal what glimmered beneath the surface of this complex man, to show him the capacity for tenderness and love that he believed himself unworthy of.

As they rode on, the setting sun painted the sky in hues of gold and amber, the trees casting a long shadowy figure across the path. Kate's thoughts swirled like the breeze around them, grappling with the intensity of her feelings for Arthur and her resolve to break through the walls he had erected around his heart, and reveal the silver lining.

"I've got nothing but time, Arthur Morgan," she murmured, her voice a whisper on the wind, "I'm not giving up on you."

[ranticore]

Chapter 3 - To Be Phocid [Qedivar's research]

It's that time again. Ishmael is a teenage boy, fair warning.

I'm posting this on mobile so I cba linking the previous chapters but go into the siren tag to find them.

x

Following these events, and at Maris’s insistence, Ishmael began to keep a journal. To the delight of this author, his writing was deep, introspective, and highly detailed. From now on, I no longer had to rely on pieced together scraps and reports, but from a primary source. As such, the way these events are related will shift a little, but that is only for events concerning Ishmael.

Cherta, unfortunately, did not keep a journal at this time and remains frustratingly opaque, given Ishmael’s somewhat biased recounting of their activities. Although one must concede to the difficulties of keeping a journal underwater, before the age of sub-aquatic writing systems, and with eighteen other overambitious adolescents in relatively close proximity.

Ishmael’s journal was recorded on a computerified device and was not written by hand, though his deep dream education had serviced to educate him in handwriting skills. This was tested when he was younger, as part of an evaluation to determine the extent of his dexterity. Although the notion of a form of writing which is stored in a purely hypothetical space is very odd, especially in its permanency, it has enabled us to access his thoughts at this day and age, whereas traditional aquatic knot-writing would have long since rotted away.

He wrote in the language of the Predecessors, which I believe to be the root of all air-speaking language families. The translation of these texts is what has taxed me more than any other part of this process, aside from the grievous bodily harm, and it has taken a fantastic span of time to achieve this translation. I cannot credit my sources for fear of implicating them but you can be assured that the finest minds of the Spire collaborated on this project. This Predecessor tongue is what is spoken in all of the videos, enabling me to learn it to a conversational level, though I am hardly fluent.

Some of the journal is rendered untranslatable due to it referring to objects or concepts which were considered common knowledge at the time, requiring no additional definition. These concepts or objects will be clearly marked. However, I believe much of the text to be familiar to many people, telling of the frustration and longing common and recognisable today. That said, I believe it is also important not to take for granted the relatability.

Ishmael is not always familiar to us and existed in a time we would find nigh incomprehensible. Do not take this as reason to doubt his interiority or personhood, and do not fall into the trap of believing that you would have done better in his place, that you would have seen clearly what he obviously did not (and had good reason not to). They may have been phocids, or the predecessors of phocids, but they were new. If you were the first of your kind, could you do better?

I will now present the text in chronological order, starting from the eve of his sixteenth birthday:

-

Entry 1 – I hate seeing that baby siphonid. It’s still moving. It drags itself around on the leg the researchers didn’t take. Now I’m just going to remember this forever, since I wrote it down. Great. I hate that fucking noise. Why can’t they just get it to shut up?

Thank [deity]. They took it away.

Update – it didn’t even taste good.

-

Entry 2 - Maris told me to talk more about my feelings. What does she know? Nobody understands me anyway. I don’t think they can feel all that on their face like me. The sipho noise kept touching me. The researchers are always talking about hydrofoils and antennae but I bet they don’t know what I do - how the siphos talk to each other. I told Callum and he didn’t know what I meant, even though he has a beard.

Talked to Lee again about sex since Dan said he wouldn’t tell me himself. I don’t think Lee told the truth about a lot of that stuff. The other kids sometimes joke around a bit too much, but it is kinda funny I guess.

Update - Dan shouted at me for asking, but now I have proof Lee was wrong.

-

Entry 3 – The phocids click at each other underwater with their tongues.

Dan got so angry after I pulled my face hair out. He made the interns [untranslatable] search my room for the hairs and they actually found them. They didn’t even do anything with it, just put it in a bag and sealed it away. Looks like nobody wants it at all. Dan says Atom spent 120 billion nua making me, so I think one face hair is worth a few million. If I started selling them to the people outside the lab, I could buy my own stake of land on Siren just like them. I wouldn’t let Lee in. My fingers are probably worth a couple billion each.

Should I

-

Entry 4 – Emer (the intern) looked at me like I did something wrong when she changed my pillowcases.

Spilled bile EVERYWHERE when they were testing me. I keep thinking about somehow saving it and trying to sell it. I’m supposed to be a digestive model for Siren food, so my insides are probably worth a lot. I should ask Dan when he calms down.

Callum came around to talk to Dan again. He’s getting really tall, he’s taller than me now even when I stand up straight. He’s so skinny, like the baby siphonids (I can snap one in half with just my teeth now). When Callum was there, he didn’t want to look at me, but I get it. They didn’t even cook the siphonid this time, it was raw and with the shell on. His leg is the same width as one of them.

Emer won’t stop changing my pillowcases. Is there a way to prevent them from smelling like that?? Callum hasn’t been around so I can’t ask. Maris thinks it’s just because people my age start getting sweaty but Dan specifically told me he made me not have sweat glands anywhere but my hands. Then he said the phocids do have sweat glands. I still don’t get the point of sweating if you’re already a stupid wet rat who lives in the

-

Entry 5 – I’m seventeen now. Since I’m an adult, I decided to stop being reticent around the phocids. I want to know if they found a comfortable way to walk without the skin coming off their tails. So I went to talk to them today for the first time. There is a window where you can do it, they let it open ever since the climate control got busted again last month.

Cherta is really weird. I knew they couldn’t stay in the pool for very long because they might have a seizure but apparently it can happen any time, not just underwater. They have a button implant that makes their muscles relax. Anyway, their tails have thicker skin than mine so that was useless. But it is still worthwhile, I think, to meet with the phocids. They remind me why I am a human, and they are not. I kind of pity them because all they're ever going to be is a bunch of test subjects in a tiny swimming pool.

Cherta told me that one of the phocids died a year ago. I don’t remember Dan ever talking about it to me, but they said it was a big deal. Apparently they got pressure sickness when climate control broke the first time. I think Cherta broke it the second time, they sounded too proud to mention it. I don’t get it. Anyway, breaking stuff in the lab is against the rules and I think I’m going to tell Dan about that.

-

Entry 6 – I made the right choice. Cherta got so angry when they found out I told on them that they had another seizure. The other phocids had to pull them out of the pool. Dan thought I did the right thing but I don’t think he liked me going to tell Cherta about it afterwards, told me no one likes a snitch. Well, then, what am I supposed to do? Just let it happen? I hope Cherta chokes on that gross pool water next time.

Dan suggested I go do something other than visit the phocids and I agree, they’re clearly not worth my time. I went to see Callum instead but he wasn’t in. He has a games console, I saw him show it off to Lee the other day. I wonder if he’d let me try it.

[End of Journal Entries]

-

It paints an interesting picture. As Ishmael mentions, Cherta suffered permanent neurological issues as a result of their birth mishaps. This was a point of contention within the lab, beyond Ishmael’s knowledge; the finance manager of the settlement questioned the wisdom of keeping a test subject in an aquatic locomotion study group who could not spend much time underwater. Every time, however, Dan Loris would respond that Cherta now provided essential information about phocid neurology and drowning mechanisms.

The phocid whose death Ishmael mentions was number seventeen, Ambla. It is highly likely that number seventeen’s death was accidental, but the circumstances were not caused by a failure of the lab’s climate system.

I have found the experimental notes from that day; Ambla was brought to an isolated chamber which was controlled by the climate system, with its own test pool, and the quality of the atmosphere was changed to match that of the Precursor home planet. The force of gravity was thus increased. What the Humans did not expect was Ambla’s sudden inability to swim to the surface. They inhaled water, which settled in their lungs and caused them to drown even after they had been pulled out of the pool.

Dan expressed grief in his notes, and surprise. He did not understand why such a thing would occur and blamed the climate system for somehow altering the test beyond his parameters. This is likely what led to Cherta’s misconception that the climate system had killed one of their friends, and their subsequent sabotage of the climate system every few months after that.

But any phocid or selkie reading this will intimately recognise the problem, and I believe the mystery of Ambla’s death may now be solved. The water taken to fill the pool was likely Tel!am’s Blood, a phenomenon all sea-faring people will know about. The Precursors, it seemed, were unfamiliar with it, and had pumped water in to the pool which nobody could swim in. But with the increased gravity, even the fittest phocid would struggle to rise in shallow water.

Regardless, there exists a substantial gap between that last journal entry and the next. Almost a year, in fact, when Ishmael did not write at all, and neither did he participate in Maris’s therapy sessions. I do, however, have a copy of Callum’s journal with me which provides at least half of the narrative, incomplete as it is.

[smilesatdawnmain]

Hello ! I adore your LMK AU‘s and your writing style. The stories are so captivating and make me excited for the next chapter.

I wanted to ask what your favorite AUs are :) I know you have great taste and I would be grateful if you could share some LMK au/comic/fanfic recommendations with us :))))

Hello! Oh my gosh thank you so so much! That makes me so happy to hear ;-; Thank you!

I got a lot of favorites out there, let me tell you :3 Alright alright~

AU'S:

The King and his Cub By: @theweepingegg : This au is so cute and I love little MK with his Papa~ It's adorable and the humor just has me rolling! Plus the wholesome Father and Son moments + an uncle Macaque?? It's amazing! Literally just melts my heart with every new update.

Cursed Au By: @winterpower98: This Au consumed my life and continues to do so. The drama, the redemption, the growing bond between Wukong Macaque and MK?? I love it alll~ The whole universal set up of this growing Au is so full and wonderful.

Literally, ANY AU that is made by @journey-to-the-au ! This artist just- STEALS all of my attention. They got a lot of different Au's, and so many amazing ideas. There is action and romance and betrayal and platonic love that is so wholesome and sweet and AHHHHH. Taking a long tour through their entire tumblr page is 100% WORTH IT

Very similarly, anything by @rebeltigera! They also have so many different au's that are all AMAZING. Something about their style also- ahhhhh <3 It's so good. I definitely suggest taking a dive into their tumblr too. Their Macaque is honestly probably my favorite version of Macaque!

Forged Faith by @swagginmun Gosh the anxiety but also the pure adoration I have for this particular Au?? Definitely follows a more canon storyline but has one HECK OF A TWIST. The expressions that are done are amazing and I really really can't wait for this one to continue as its current chapter just ended on something INTENSE.

Fan Comics!

Eclipsed Apprentice by @journeytomonkiekid : I've been following this one for a while. I LOVE IT. There are so many talented people in the LMK community and this comic takes an interesting turn to the canon of LMK. Has some great Oc's and the storyline has me hooked! Lots of drama, and redemption, and so far the character growth is *Chef kiss*

Even Rainfall Has Shadows By @linklefr : Another fancomic that takes it's own path and turn from the LMK canon. Oc's are so cute and I just wanna squeeze them! It's really growing to be its own thing! It's got a lot of talk about self-worth and toxic habits and overall overcoming those that the characters need to grow from, and I can't wait to see where it goes!

FANFICS: (I have way too many. My gosh. And honestly if folks have more recommendations, please put them in the comments! Or if you have a story you wrote yourself I would love to read it!) I would mark their Tumblr creators if I knew them, but I don't know all of them ;-; So I'll put the link to the fanfic instead

SunBreak : First LMK fanfic I ever read. It is the rabbit hole that dropped me into loving Macaque and parent Macaque to be more precise~ Goes way off canon and I'm LOVING IT

There May be no such thing as eternity: Possed Wukong- I cannot explain how much possessed Wukong still reaching out to the Macaque and the gang just makes my brain flip~

A Garden Across Our Collar Bone: THIS. Ahhhh- Just bury me with this fanfic in my hand. MK X Red Son and ahhh- Also, ANYTHING this author (PittiedPeaches) writes is GOLD.

Of Blood and Bones: A big inspiration to me and their story is SO GOOD. The angst but also fluff that is slipped in? It's an amazingly sad but wonderful read. And I really love the world-building

Peach Blossoms: I'm a sucker for any Hanahaki disease kind of story and this is everything I wanted and more. This was soooo good and it flowed really well.

Love Team: Ooooh boy this story took me on a roller coaster ride. MY GOSH I never knew what to expect and it always had me on the edge of my seat~

Is this A Monkey-Thing or Dad-Thing?: Any Dad wukong focused fic will just catch my feet and trip me into the pit of the story. Every time. This one is so cute~

Kiss Your Knuckles: This oneshot is soo sooo good! And also horribly tragic. Gosh it just destroyed me! I definitely suggest it!

-Okay this thing is getting long and I'm not even close to saying all the fanfics and such I have read XD There are so many good fanfics out there my gosh. If you have more than you think are amazing please put them in the comments!

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

hi!!! I’m losing my mind and can’t find this in the books anywhere and need to check with someone else… in any of the grishaverse books does it mention the merchers wives going to the house of barter to scrub the floors?!? I might be making this up out of my little mind but it’s so specific idk how I could be!!!

Hi my darling, so sorry for the late reply, and yes I think I know which bit you're talking about - I think you might just be struggling to find it because you've got two (strongly linked) references crisscrossed over each other, but I'm pretty sure that the part you're thinking of is about Hellgate

In chapter 6 of Six of Crows, Nina's first POV chapter, she describes the smells in Hellgate upon their arrival and the quote is as follows:

They entered a dark, surprisingly clean kitchen, its walls lined with huge vats that looked more suited to laundry than cooking. The room smelled strange, like vinegar and sage. Like a mercher's kitchen, Nina thought. The Kerch believed that work was akin to prayer. Maybe the merchant wives came here to scrub the floors and walls and windows, to honour Ghezen, the god of industry and commerce, with soap and water and the chafing of their hands. Nina resisted the urge to gag. They could scrub all they liked. Beneath that wholesome scent was the inedible stench of mildew, urine, and unwashed bodies. It might take an actual miracle to dislodge it

(In the Collector's Edition this is on page 90)

This is such an important quote for me in terms of worldbuilding and I won't go on about it now but I super quickly want to add that it is very well set up to parallel Inej's flashback in Crooked Kingdom when she says "he smelled of vanilla, but beneath it she could smell garlic"

The other section that I'm wondering if you might be thinking of is in Crooked Kingdom when they're talking about Radmakker's sister, this one was harder to find but I think this is the quote on your mind:

It was Jellen Radmakker, one of the investors tget had invited to Jesper's absurb presentation on oil futures. From the investiagtion she'd done for Kaz, Inej knew that he was scrupulously honest, a devout man with no family except an equally pious sister who spent her days scrubbing the floors of public buildings in service to Ghezen.

This is from Chapter 32 of Crooked Kingdom (page 435 in the Collector's Edition) and the scene takes place in the Church of Barter so I wonder if that's what you were thinking of?

I hope that this was helpful!! I honestly love this world building detail, I think it's so fascinating, and I think that not only can we take the second quote as a point of evidence to support the first but there are also others, such as when Alys is hemming curtains before Wylan leaves the house, that add to the validity of Nina's theory as well. Thanks so much for the ask! <33

(This has been episode 5 of 'DK Finally Gets It Together And Answers Her Asks Because It's About Damn Time (working title)' thank you very much for joining me, on the off chance anyone might be interested then the rest of the series can be found here)