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sophiewolfheart-blog · 2 years

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Hello everyone! So I decided to make a Halloween fic this year. (Yes I know it’s late, but it’s better late than never.) I really hope you all enjoy the read as much as I enjoyed making it.

I also am going to make this world in this fanfiction my own. Keep the theme going and do other fics and what not based in it just for fun.

Happy late Halloween everyone!

Halloween Hunt

Demon Malakai Black x Plus Size Reader x Monster Luchasaurus

Kinks: Con-non con, primal, breeding, bondage

Word count: 2458 words

Tags: @writtingrose @omg-im-such-a-masochist

It’s Halloween night with a full blood moon casting its eerie glow across the land. Many elders of the town had chosen to stay inside, for they fear the legend that has haunted this land for decades. A demon lord was said to come during full blood moons with those who follow him, but legend also speaks of a black scaled monster who obeys the demon. A terrifying beast who could destroy 3 men at once if commanded to attack. Despite it being a faded memory the warning of being out during a full blood moon was still the norm for some older generations. The younger generation however have no fear of this legend and enjoy the night either trick or treating, or partying to celebrate the day of All Hallow’s Eve.

A young woman named (Y/N) was walking alone along a forest pathway surrounded by ghostly white river birch trees. the blood moon’s light causing the orange leaves on the ground to look brighter, seemingly to illuminate around her. Her home sits in the middle of the massive forest, the trail was originally for horses and wagons to travel. Now it’s her own private trail to her little cottage. As she walked a cold wind harshly blew through the trees, causing (Y/N) to shiver as the atmosphere seemed to change from peaceful to a darker somber one. Her eyes looked around cautiously as she felt she was not alone on this path, feeling a dark gaze from somewhere within the forest around her.

She walked quicker along the path to try and hurry home. However when she reached a bend that would lead right to her cottage, a strong scent drifted in the wind to her that was unnatural within her forest. The smell of oak, mahogany, and musk filled her nose while the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She began to run as fast as she could down the path, her heart pounding in her ears with pure adrenaline and fear. She could just hear a deep, guttural growl before heavy footsteps charged from the forest. She never looked back and only focused on the path ahead of her, the path to safety.

Within a few minutes of running she could see the bright porch light of her cottage, however as she got closer a figure appeared in her way. Putting on the brakes (Y/N) stops dead in her tracks, staring into the blue and white eye of who stood in her way to the cottage. His dark hair and auburn beard framed his face as he took a step toward her. “Well hello, does a little thing like you live here all alone? It’s dangerous out here, anything could be lurking in these woods.” His voice held a dark tone and yet sent shivers down her spine. (Y/N) took some frantic steps backwards trying to get away from the man before her, however her back slammed against what felt like a solid form of muscles. A chuckling growl vibrated the chest against her back while a clawed hand grabbed her arm. “Little girl’s shouldn’t be alone. You never know what kind of monsters might be in the shadows.”

Before he could get her other arm she managed to duck under his arm grabbing her, then with a grunt she kicked his knee making his grip loosen. With a harsh pull she freed her arm and ran to the side where she used the trees to block the other man from getting her. With great effort she ran for the front door with her hand already grabbing the key from her pocket. As quick as she could she managed to unlock the door and get the door open, unfortunately she failed to realize the monster had caught up. His body slammed into her and both fell to the floor with him on top of her, pinning her down he laughed softly while his red eyes filled with hunger. “Nice try little dove, but a mere human can’t outrun the likes of me and my master.”

A dark chuckle came from the door, then the sound of it shutting and locking reached her ears. As the beast above her moved to lean closer to her face, (Y/N) felt something firm pressing against her thigh. The man in the suit groaned and laughed softly as he got closer. “Really? The chase got to you that quick, Luchasaurus?” He folded his arms over his chest while Luchasaurus glared at him over his shoulder. “I can’t help it! The hunt is such a turn on, then seeing this plump girl running for her life just made things worse. Don’t kink shame me, Malakai!”

Malakai just laughs and looks over their little prey now at their mercy. His mismatched eyes scanned her struggling form with a malicious grin. “I think we shall have fun with this one before taking her soul. Get her to the bedroom and use these to restrain her.” He handed Luchasaurus some silk made rope before the monster scooped her up with a growl. “Don’t you dare fight me, or else I will take a bite out of you. Understood?” (Y/N) shivered with a nod as she let him carry her to her bedroom. She was too afraid to even talk as the two men ‘s aura felt dark and that they were not bluffing.

Luchasaurus laid her with her head hanging over the edge of the bed and tied her hands to each post before using his clawed hands to rip her clothes to shreds. Malakai laughed seeing how eager his best monster was. “You can get the first taste Luchasaurus, I’m gonna make sure she can’t scream.” Both men stripped off whatever clothing they had on as (Y/N) tried to press her legs together, her cheeks flushed pink while her eyes tried to look away. Malakai grabbed her neck with a deep growl vibrating his chest. “You better open those legs before we get forceful.” With a gulp she slowly opened her legs before letting out a yelp as Luchasaurus grabbed her plump thighs roughly, lightly cutting her flesh with his claws and making a little blood trickle down her lifted legs.

“Look at this curvy girl, Malakai. She is going to look adorable covered in bruises and cuts.” Luchasaurus bent his head down to her (F/C) lace panties while licking his fangs. He slowly bites the crotch of the panties and her clit through them. (Y/N) yelped from his bite before her face went full red, feeling him taking her panties off with his teeth. Malakai slapped his cock against her slightly open lips. “Open up princess. Obey us and we might spare your life.” His hand lightly squeezed her throat in encouragement then grinning like the Cheshire Cat as her mouth opened. “Good girl.”

Slowly the tattooed demon pushed his cock into her mouth just as Luchasaurus slid a finger into her with a grin. “She is already wet for us, master. Is the little dove turned on?” He roughly pushed his finger in then curled it, making (Y/N) flinch and choke on Malakai’s cock. Both men groan watching her reaction with hunger. “Hurry the fuck up and get her ready. I want that delicious pussy clenching my cock like her throat is.” Luchasaurus nodded as he pulled his finger out to grab her hips with both hands before pressing his tongue against her soaking folds. (Y/N) let out a muffled moan while her legs flinched in his grasp.

Suddenly time seemed to stand still as the monster jerked back with a shocked look on his face. “Malakai.” His red eyes flashed brown for a moment before turning back to red, he made eye contact with his master and both had a look of hope before a new hunger clouded their gaze. Luchasaurus grabbed her hips and gently lifted them up before shoving his tongue into her folds with a hungry growl. Malakai started to thrust harder into (Y/N)’s mouth while one hand gripped her throat while the other gripped a handful of hair at the back of her head. “Fuck! Just when I thought this evening couldn't get better.” He grins down at her before making eye contact with Luchasaurus again. “Wij heb een fokker gevonden!~”

The monster between her thighs began eating her out as if it was the last thing he would ever devour. (Y/N) felt waves of pleasure as he ate her out as if it was his last meal. Malakai groaned as he shoved his cock once more down the little human’s throat before pulling out. (Y/N) coughed and gasped for hair as the demon above her laughed. “Laten we samen deze kleine fokken.” Luchasaurus grinned as he sat up with her arousal soaking his lips and beard. “Agreed. Let’s double stuff her till she passes out.” Malakai untied her hands only to put them together behind her back. He then took a seat on her bed.

(Y/N) struggled until the demon forced her to sit in his lap after he leaned his back against the headboard. He then grinds his cock against her soaked pussy. “Good job, my warrior. She is perfect for us to ravish and stuff.” She felt the monster come up behind her and rub his cock against her wet folds as well. “W-Wait! I can’t take you both! It’s impossible! Y-you will kill me.” Malakai grabs her throat and kisses her roughly. “Oh, you will take both of us. And we will stuff you till our seed flows out of your tight cunt.”

Before she could get another word out both men shove their cocks into her pussy, making her almost scream from the slight pain. Luchasaurus groaned as he pressed his face against her neck. “Mmm! Fuck she’s tight as hell!” Malakai moaned as he kissed (Y/N) again as his tongue shoved into her mouth. “Mmm, yes. So tight and fertile.” Without giving her a chance to adjust they start thrusting into her, growling groaning let both their lips as they fuck her. She moaned when Luchasaurus bit her shoulder as his thrusts became rougher, making her breasts bounce in Malakai’s face.

“F-Fuck! I can’t! Too much!” The demon suddenly wrapped his lips around one of her nipples and bit it softly, causing her to choke on a moan as her pussy tightened around them both. Luchasaurus’s growling moans became louder as his right hand started rubbing her clit. “Mmmm! Fuck yes! Get tighter for us, little dove. Drive us feral to breed and claim you.” Both men started to get more handsy and grab her curvy body wherever they could. Their lips and teeth touching and biting her delicate skin to claim more of her body as theirs.

(Y/N) was so confused and yet could not help but be turned on by their words and actions. Her body was burning with intense pleasure as her pussy was stuffed. Slowly she gave into the lust and leaned back against Luchasaurus while still riding Malakai. “A-Ahh! Please, please.” This made the monster smirk as he licked along her neck while Malakai pulled back to make her look into his eyes. “Please what? Use your words, tell us what our little prey wants from her new masters?” Her eyes stared into his as his hands slipped to her hips, gripping her flesh to grind against her as his cock slid to the base in her. She fell under his spell as she fully gave in. “Please make me cum. I’m so close, Master Malakai.” Her pussy throbbed around them while her legs shook from riding him.

With a dark chuckle the demon snapped his fingers at Luchasaurus. “Lay on your back, Lucha. It’s time to make her scream our names.” Nodding his head the beast moved slowly to lay on his back with her laying on him. Malakai moved to his knees and looked down at her with a grin. As soon as they got comfortable their thrusting started again with a new energy, their hips slapping against hers rougher now. Lucha’s hands held her hips tight as he picked up the pace. “Fuck! So close, little dove. Master, let me cum in her!” Malakai laughs as he thrusted harder into (Y/N) and makes her take more of Lucha, making the lantern groan. “No, we cum together in this little human. Hold it a bit longer until I say so.” He grabbed Lucha’s throat with a sinister grin. “Or else I will blue ball you and you won’t get to cum for a month!”

He growled in agreement before both men continued to breed her, leaving bite marks and red scratches on her body. Soon Malakai pressed his face against the left side of her neck while Lucha had her right. “Mmm! Make her cum with us! Fuck let’s make her a mother.” Lucha suddenly started to rub (Y/N)’s clit harder and even slapped it as he and Malakai desperately thrust harder into her. “Fuck! Yes dove! Cry out our names! Say you belong to us!”

When both slammed into her together they hit her g-spot perfectly, causing her to scream as she cums on their cocks. Lucha kept rubbing her clit as he and Malakai roared out as they cum deep inside her, filling her with their seed. Both men bite into her shoulder and neck as they claim her, now she belonged to them forever. As she passed out from the intensity the monster softly was licking her neck with a purr. “Sleep now. You did so good for us.” Malakai chuckled as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Yes, you need to sleep. When you awaken, we will take you to our home. Where you will be loved, fed, and spoiled.” (Y/N) tried to speak but was shushed by the demon as he lightly stroked her hair. “Shhh, close those eyes and sleep. You will know our reasoning later.”

Slowly they moved to where all three could sleep comfortably while staying inside her to make sure she gets pregnant. Neither man cared about who got to impregnate her first, they only desired to protect and breed her. She was more important than she knew, a very special human who could give them children. (Y/N) allowed the darkness of sleep to take her as she curled up in the arms of a demon lord and a monster, feeling safer with them than she ever did before. The young woman had a feeling her life will never be the same after that All Hallows Eve night.

#malakai black smut #malakai black fanfiction #aew #all elite wrestling #aew dynamite #luchasaurus #halloween #all hallows eve #luchasaurus fanfiction #luchasaurus smut #demon malakai black #monster luchasaurus

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urlocallesbiab · 2 years

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today my good buddy @generalized-incompetence introduced me to the semi-canon fact that tina was supposed to have an older brother who died & that hobbs took her in because he was that that guy's best friend, AND to her headcanons that "[his death] kicked off her dark period" and "he was always the perfect older brother and she could never live up to him and now she has massive survivor's guilt"

[image ID in alt text]

and god, all of that makes so much sense, it all lines up Perfectly!! my entire vision of tina came suddenly and sharply into focus after i'd considered that info!

so, my tina tevetino hcs/reading/meta (largely sponsored and influenced by the aforementioned good buddy):

(tw for discussion of addiction)

tina has undiagnosed adhd (at the time of s2 hobbs has been gently nudging her towards examining that possibility for some time already) — a silent, perplexing, largely unnamed curse that's been plaguing her since forever, that carried her from an unruly child to a troubled teen to a hopeless adult. she had started self-medicating while still underage, trying to relieve that nagging pressure of boredom/pain/restlessness/uselessness with whatever she could bargain from partying young adults; though she wouldn't admit that it was self-medication — she was "just having fun!". and that's why her dark period is "10 to 15 years" long: there's ambiguity, because her addiction started slowly developing even before the inciting incident, but her brother's death 10 years ago is when things totally went to shit.

he was older, more mature, and always had been smarter, known better, given solid, reasonable advice that she just failed to follow; he wanted what's best for her, but she kept sliding into what's worse & easier (& livable, doable, surviviable). he tried to get her to stop doing drugs, and often grew frustrated, and she always was stubborn, and they often fought.

she was 19 that year, having a "gap year" (doing fuck all) after graduating high school, promising her family that she would start studying real soon, send out applications, get herself together, just so they would leave her and her headaches alone for a few days longer; and then it hapenned. she knew that what he would've wanted was for her to go sober, and get into a nice college, and live a good life, but the only thing she could do was to only get drunker and drunker and drunker, chasing the rare glimpses of not feeling searing pain all of the time.

hobbs couldn't bear seeing his best friend's family like that, so he offered her a position — just so that she could have something to do, as opposed to rotting in her childhood home day and night. out of loneliness, and guilt, and feeling completely, utterly lost, she accepted. she wasn't (and wouldn't later become) stellar, or decent, or even passable at her job — but hobbs never seemed to mind. clumsily and with a great deal of trouble, eventually she settled.

she never got into college, after all. she's one of those people who are a little bit lost to time, suspended in it, who under the weight of some unspeakable burden or another seem to slow down, freeze even, their 29th year on earth not too dissimilar to the 25th and that to the 20th; it's been 10 years, but she's done her best to sleep through them. you wouldn't think from looking at her (or talking to her, or hanging around her for a while, or knowing her as a person — unless she just plainly told you) that she's almost thirty; she doesn't want to think about that either.

and then comes farah black, age 21. (note 1: this age hc is based on the d.o.b. in her fbi most wanted file; note 2: i have a wagon and a lil cart of farah thoughts related to her age, but that’s a topic for another time if we want this post to ever end.)

and tina meets a person who is both a perfectly clear reflection of herself and someone who couldn't be more different from her if she tried. here she is, 20-ish, young, something inexplicably wrong with her (it's the ocd, babe), crumbling under her older brother's caring pressure, — a still snaphot in sharp focus, face to face, features aligning. but also here she is, fresher & younger and more talented, competent, better at literally everything, going through the same shit in real time, all the while tina's shit is a decade old and stale and undealt with; she's 29 and an absolute nobody and hasn't even fully moved on; grief awashes her at the realization.

but in the end, of course, it all works out: they're similar in the ways that matter and different in all the right places. farah needed to slow down, and tina needed to pick herself up; farah needed to chill out a bit, and tina needed to take herself seriously; farah needed a new perspective and tina did, tina needed to let her brother go and farah did, and they both needed to move forward. and in the end, that is what they did.

P. S. bonus hc: mustard likes rap because tina likes rap and would often come by sherlock's house and lounge about and make him switch stations on the radio because his taste in music sucks

#dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency (tv 2016)#dghda meta #dghda headcanon #tina tevetino #farah black #drugs #addiction #substance abuse #this took entirely too many hours to type out. good fucking grief.#vika's personal dghda tag #vikarambles #id in alt text #sherlock hobbs #farina

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rockislandadultreads · 2 years

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NoveList: Best Adult Nonfiction 2022

Here are a handful of books that made NoveList's best adult nonfiction list for 2022! Did you know NoveList is a database you can access with your library card to find reading recommendations? Check it out on our website here!

Solito by Javier Zamora

Trip. My parents started using that word about a year ago - "one day, you'll take a trip to be with us. Like an adventure."

Javier's adventure is a three-thousand-mile journey from his small town in El Salvador, through Guatemala and Mexico, and across the U.S. border. He will leave behind his beloved aunt and grandparents to reunite with a mother who left four years ago and a father he barely remembers. Traveling alone except for a group of strangers and a coyote hired to lead them to safety, Javier's trip is supposed to last two short weeks.

At nine years old, all Javier can imagine is rushing into his parents' arms, snuggling in bed between them, living under the same roof again. He does not see the perilous boat trips, relentless desert treks, pointed guns, arrests and deceptions that await him; nor can he know that those two weeks will expand into two life-altering months alongside a group of strangers who will come to encircle him like an unexpected family.

A memoir by an acclaimed poet that reads like a novel, Solito not only provides an immediate and intimate account of a treacherous and near-impossible journey, but also the miraculous kindness and love delivered at the most unexpected moments. Solito is Javier's story, but it's also the story of millions of others who had no choice but to leave home.

Life on the Mississippi by Rinker Buck

Seven years ago, readers around the country fell in love with a singular American voice: Rinker Buck, whose infectious curiosity about history launched him across the West in a covered wagon pulled by mules.

Now, Buck returns to chronicle his latest incredible adventure: building a wooden flatboat from the bygone era of the early 1800s and journeying down the Mississippi River to New Orleans.

A modern-day Huck Finn, Buck casts off down the river on the flatboat Patience accompanied by an eccentric crew of daring shipmates. Over the course of his voyage, Buck steers his fragile wooden craft through narrow channels dominated by massive cargo barges, rescues his first mate gone overboard, sails blindly through fog, breaks his ribs not once but twice, and camps every night on sandbars, remote islands, and steep levees. As he charts his own journey, he also delivers a richly satisfying work of history that brings to life a lost era.

The role of the flatboat in our country’s evolution is far more significant than most Americans realize. Between 1800 and 1840, millions of farmers, merchants, and teenage adventurers embarked from states like Pennsylvania and Virginia on flatboats headed beyond the Appalachians to Kentucky, Mississippi, and Louisiana. Settler families repurposed the wood from their boats to build their first cabins in the wilderness; cargo boats were broken apart and sold to build the boomtowns along the water route. Joining the river traffic were floating brothels, called “gun boats”; “smithy boats” for blacksmiths; even “whiskey boats” for alcohol. In the present day, America’s inland rivers are a superhighway dominated by leviathan barges - carrying $80 billion of cargo annually - all descended from flatboats like the ramshackle Patience.

As a historian, Buck resurrects the era’s adventurous spirit, but he also challenges familiar myths about American expansion, confronting the bloody truth behind settlers’ push for land and wealth. The Indian Removal Act of 1830 forced more than 125,000 members of the Cherokee, Choctaw, and several other tribes to travel the Mississippi on a brutal journey en route to the barrens of Oklahoma. Simultaneously, almost a million enslaved African Americans were carried in flatboats and marched by foot 1,000 miles over the Appalachians to the cotton and cane fields of Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana, birthing the term “sold down the river.” Buck portrays this watershed era of American expansion as it was really lived.

Rise by Jeff Yang

The first generation of U.S.-born Asian Americans raised after 1965’s Hart-Cellar Act passed would have found it difficult to imagine that sushi and boba would one day be beloved by all, that a Korean boy band named BTS would be the biggest musical act in the world, that one of the biggest movies of 2018 would be Crazy Rich Asians, or that a Facebook group for Asian American identity memes would be 2 million members strong. And that’s not mentioning the execs working behind the scenes at major companies; the activists and representatives fighting for equity; and the singers, rappers, dance crews, and social media pioneers making their mark on pop culture. And still: Asian America is just getting started.

In this intimate, eye-opening, and frequently hilarious guided tour through the pop-cultural touchstones and sociopolitical shifts of the 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, and beyond, Jeff Yang, Phil Yu, and Phil Wang chronicle how we’ve arrived at today’s unprecedented diversity of Asian American cultural representation through engaging, interactive graphics (like a step-by-step walk-through of a typical night out in Koreatown...for those who probably won't remember it the day after), charts (how much has yellowface fluctuated decade over decade?), graphic essays from major AAPI artists, exclusive roundtables with Asian American cultural icons, and more, framed by extended insider narratives of each decade by the three co-authors. Rise is an informative, lively, and inclusive celebration of community, and will remain a cultural touchstone for years to come.

All the Living and the Dead by Hayley Campbell

We are surrounded by death. It is in our news, our nursery rhymes, our true-crime podcasts. Yet from a young age, we are told that death is something to be feared. How are we supposed to know what we’re so afraid of, when we are never given the chance to look?

Fueled by a childhood fascination with death, journalist Hayley Campbell searches for answers in the people who make a living by working with the dead. Along the way, she encounters mass fatality investigators, embalmers, and a former executioner who is responsible for ending sixty-two lives. She meets gravediggers who have already dug their own graves, visits a cryonics facility in Michigan, goes for late-night Chinese with a homicide detective, and questions a man whose job it is to make crime scenes disappear.

Through Campbell’s incisive and candid interviews with these people who see death every day, she asks: Why would someone choose this kind of life? Does it change you as a person? And are we missing something vital by letting death remain hidden? A dazzling work of cultural criticism, All the Living and the Dead weaves together reportage with memoir, history, and philosophy, to offer readers a fascinating look into the psychology of Western death.

Tell Me Everything by Erika Krouse

Erika Krouse has one of those faces. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” people say, spilling confessions. In fall 2002, Krouse accepts a new contract job investigating lawsuits as a private investigator. The role seems perfect for her, but she quickly realizes she has no idea what she’s doing. Then a lawyer named Grayson assigns her to investigate a sexual assault, a college student who was attacked by football players and recruits at a party a year earlier. Krouse knows she should turn the assignment down; her own history with sexual violence makes it all too personal. But she takes the job anyway, inspired by Grayson’s conviction that he could help change things forever - and maybe she could, too.

Over the next five years, Krouse learns everything she can about P. I. technique, tracking down witnesses and investigating a culture of sexual assault and harassment ingrained in the university’s football program. But as the investigation grows into a national scandal and a historic civil rights case, she finds herself increasingly consumed. When the case and her life both implode at the same time, she must figure out how to help win the case without losing herself.

#nonfiction #nonfiction books #nonfiction reads #best books 2022 #novelist #adult books #Adult Reads #library books #reading recommendations #reading recs #book recommendations #book recs #book blog #tbr #to read #TBR pile #book tumblr #booklr

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autolovecraft · 10 months

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What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed?

He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant.

When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four. On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. Over the door, however, no pursuer; for he was alone and alive when Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. His thinking processes, once so phlegmatic and logical, had become ineffaceably scarred; and it was pitiful to note his response to certain chance allusions such as Friday, Tomb, Coffin, and words of less obvious concatenation. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. The skull turned my stomach, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the tomb. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live.

Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced.

Sawyer died of a malignant fever. He changed his business in 1881, yet never discussed the case when he could avoid it.

It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the tomb. The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon. Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard more flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon. Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the tomb.

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shiftermod · 1 year

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State of play and AUs

Prime timeline: blogcanon

Queen Twilight is on the throne. Queen Chrysalis and her colleagues have been defeated and petrified. And then there was much rejoicing.

Metamorphosis (AFAB He/Him) has been grandfathered into a Pony/Changeling peace treaty and has migrated to Ponyville and has gently manipulated Twilight and local officials into accidentally allowing him to effectively build a fortified magic-negating wizard tower at the edge of town disguised as a fully functional book bindery called Dusty Books Binding And Restoration. As part of the negotiations, he was forced to relinquish his claim to the changeling throne, leaving King Thorax in charge. The Nightguard provide Morph and his family monthly boxes of rations: single-serving bottles of simple syrup infused with magically-produced love energy using a variant of Princess Cadance’s signature spell-that-we-only-ever-see-her-use-twice.

Morph owns and operates the book bindery as his business and is trying to be a pillar of the community with some degree of success. His building is enchanted with so many changeling enchantments and is built so securely that it is now the safest place in Ponyville should a cataclysm strike. He still generally wears the guise of Dust Jacket because it’s comfortable and makes for better snuggles.

Morph’s fiancé Dream Catcher (AMAB He/Him) spends off days and some weekends with Dust/Morph, sleeping in the living quarters above the shop when applicable in The World’s Comfiest Bed. Eventually Morph and DC will wed and later have a daughter named Lobelia (AFAB She/Her).

The lore for this universe is the end result of the blogcanon stuff I’ve been developing since 2013. Morph and his home being over-the-top ineradicable forces and/or safe places are a direct result of the sheer amount of violent anti-changeling sentiment I observed in 2012, back when the Ask A Shapeshifter blog started out as grimdark.

Geddoffmalon AU: NOT canon

Prince-Regent Metamorphosis rules the mountainous Kingdom of Geddoffmalon with an iron hoof, having wed Prince-Consort Dream Catcher sometime before, and has established trade relations between the Changelings and the Ponies. Unfortunately Metamorphosis is not merely The Ruler of the Northern Hive but also its Gyne, and thus must repeatedly and regularly lay large clutches of eggs—up to 500 at a time—over the course of every single day in order to stave off the perpetual threat of immobility. Morph has difficulty getting around without DC’s physical assistance. There is a Royal Do Not Disturb Sign. There is a Royal Wheelbarrow or Wagon which has seen use multiple times. There are a lot of snuggles and a lot of married flirting noises, tummy rubs, and massive amounts of innuendo with an emphasis on “massive.”

Season 7 made it clear that this sort of scenario was not remotely canon and that changelings do not appear to have a specific reproductive caste, and honestly it’s a relief; Chrysalis doesn’t seem like the kind to have kids anyway, but seeing her standing alone in an egg chamber in mid-Season 6 (2016) made me question if she was the origin of the changeling species and forced me to consider throwing out much of the blogcanon I had been working towards up to that point.

Cat AU:

Everybody is cats! There are cuddles for all! All the cuddles, all the time! DC is a cloud Maine Coon or something similar, super fluffy big boy; Dust is either a Savannah or a really big Bengal. They cuddle. Sometimes they get up to go eat food or play or have adventures. And then they cuddle. They are well cared-for so I assume they live in a house with some kind of people.

Bad End AU:

Pending. This would be “What if blogcanon led to events that ruined all the things?” I’ll need to mull it over, but the short version is some terrible fate would befall everyone. Maybe the war reignites. Maybe someone harms Morph’s and DC’s daughter and Morph finally loses his temper. Who knows. Destruction, chaos, badly hurt feelings, who knows.

#prime timeline is safe space for me and my friendos #everyone is safe #everything is great #geddoffmalon is self-indulgent shippy ridiculousness but I realized I cannot name that many kids #cat au is just all the characters are cats and they are asleep #mod post

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 4 years

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hiiii i'm new here and i loved her writing, she made me happy argh ♡. Okay I can ask for a scenario with Alucard, where the Reader is a Kitsune, with ears and tails, she is basically a spirit of the forest, but she was attracted by the melancholy of his Castle. And ignoring his warnings at the entrance, she starts to leave bouquets of flowers and small jewels at the entrance to the castle. She is very shy, always running before he sees her. you can ignore this and sorry for my bad English.

A/N: Your English is just fine! And I’M sorry for the long wait.

♡ ♡ ♡

Kitsune!Reader x Alucard (Post S3) Imagine:

As a kitsune, you were incredibly clever. You also knew everything that happened within your forest. After all, you were its designated guardian spirit. Most recently, as you performed your guardian duties, a massive castle manifested next to the crumbled former Belmont estate. You had experienced some turbulence before; with your forest so close to a great monster’s hunter’s former home, it came with the territory. However, this castle’s sudden appearance was the work of someone greater than any of the road magicians you had experienced in the past. You remembered quite clearly how it came to be there.

Many nights ago, a down-trodden band of travelers came through on a covered wagon to the famed Belmont estate. There were three of them, and they seemed to work well together. They vanished into a hidden spirit door under the rubble, and you didn’t hear anything for hours. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, this giant monstrosity of a castle appeared not too far from where the travelers had vanished. Upon closer inspection, you realized you recognized the castle from tales of long ago. It belonged to Dracula.

When the group surfaced, you took the liberty of getting a better look at those faces. Much to your surprise, you found a Speaker, the last surviving son of the House of Belmont, and Alucard- Dracula’s son.

You didn’t dare follow them past the threshold of the castle, but from what your large fox ears could hear, a lengthy battle must have ensued. When the sun came up later that morning, only the three travelers emerged, looking rather worse for wear. You deducted they were the only survivors.

It was puzzling, to say the least. You understood why Belmont would want to kill Dracula and his associates. And you guessed that as a Speaker, the strange woman would most likely be against the persecution or genocide of any race or species. But you couldn’t imagine why the dhampir, Alucard, Dracula’s only son, would agree to end his Father’s reign in such a way. Yes, it was a necessary sacrifice, but still, it must have been incredibly difficult for the vampire boy to do so.

He seemed so serious. You wondered if it was even possible to make him smile. Perhaps his friends were capable of cheering him up? But if they were, you wouldn’t have known it because no sooner than the deed was done, did Belmont and the Speaker take off in the covered wagon. They left Alucard all alone, which seemed insensitive. You knew it wasn't your responsibility; the castle was technically out of forest bounds, but your curiosity had gotten the best of you.

You ventured closer to the castle, cautiously leaving the safety of your home’s foliage behind. And you were glad you did because once you ventured just a tad bit closer, your big fox ears had managed to detect the sound of sobbing.

The poor Alucard boy was crying.

Oh, you felt so awful! You wanted so desperately to comfort him, but at the same time, your shy and sneaky nature forbid you from talking to him outright. He seemed to need companionship. But at the same time, you recognized he wasn’t in any physical danger. On the other hand, the occupants of your forest needed you to protect them from cruel trackers and hunters who wished to do them harm. So, you simply said a quick blessing over him and continued on your way.

This pattern of yours continued for some time. You were drawn to the melancholy of the castle. It called out to your very soul. For that reason, you continued to discreetly visit and speak blessings over the castle and its occupant.

It was a month or so into this routine when those two showed up. You sensed dark energy resonating within them and as a result, you kept a close eye on them as they approached Alucard. You were surprised at how well he could hold his own in a fight and wondered if you were less sneaky if his dhampir ears would detect you. But that concern was far from your mind. You wanted to keep your forest safe from those two mysterious travelers. You didn’t trust them.

As it turned out, you were right not to.

You didn’t know how or why it happened… All you knew is one week you went to give your blessing to the castle, only to find the corpses of those two travelers up on pikes at the front entrance. You felt the situation had escalated, and simple enchantments and blessings would no longer be enough to protect the heart of Alucard and his castle.

You started leaving gifts whenever you went to say a blessing. They were just small things, an arrangement of acorns, flower wreaths, fresh berries, and sweet-smelling tree leaves.

When you came back, you noticed your gifts were gone, clearly taken inside by Alucard. Your heart soared. It made you glad to help. At the same time, it made you worried. Now that Alucard knew he had a visitor, he would be on the lookout for his mysterious gift giver.

A part of you wanted to be his friend, but the shy part of you knew it was best to stay hidden. After all, kitsune were clever creatures. If you made a fool of yourself in front of your crush, it would seriously damage your reputation.

You were very proud of your most recent gift. It was a collection of crystals, and jewels travelers had lost in your forest throughout the years. You were placing the final touches of flower petals and twigs around the jewels when your large kitsune ears detected footsteps approaching. You quickly had rushed to finish your gift’s presentation before you dashed off, back into the woods.

From a safe distance, you watched as Alucard exited the doors of his castle and made his way to your gift.

You weren’t certain, because you were fairly far away, but when you squinted, you thought you could see the faintest traces of a smile on his face.

♡ ♡ ♡

A/N: If you enjoyed this ask, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi!

#castlevania imagine #castlevania alucard imagine #alucard tepes x reader #Alucard Tepes #castlevania imagines #castlevania #os #kitsune!reader

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heart-of-gold-outlaw · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home | Chapter Ten: Still Breathing

Finally—finally—, the day comes to rescue Sean. You honestly don’t know what to expect. Most of the others in camp aren’t much help, referring to Sean with a roll of their eyes and something along the lines of: “half a mind to let the bounty hunters keep him.”

They should be saying that about Micah, you think to yourself as you watch Charles and Arthur saddle their horses. Maybe then Dutch’ll kick him out.

Still, Sean is a bit of a wildcard to you. You won’t figure out what he’s really like until you meet him, and until then, you decide to keep an open mind. Worst case scenario? He’s Micah’s long-lost brother. Best case scenario? He’s… well. Maybe it’s best not to think about all the things he could be. Keep yourself on your toes.

You sit on a tree stump while the boys get ready. Taima is an absolute beauty of a horse, and you can tell by the way Charles dotes on her that she’s got a good life. Briefly, thoughts of having a horse of your own cross your mind. That appaloosa gelding is probably still for sale in Valentine. Maybe if you can get enough money, you can buy him.

Arthur and Charles take their sweet time packing more than enough ammo, which means you quickly get bored. Every scratchy detail on the tree stump bothers you, too. Hopping to your feet, you decide to get some chores done. Everyone’s been so preoccupied with the big upcoming rescue, they’ve neglected some of the finer details in camp.

The ax is in its usual spot, surrounded by whole logs that need to be chopped. You grab ahold of the handle. It feels lighter than it used to, and you realize you’re getting stronger.

Goodbye noodle arms, you think as you bring the ax down on to the first log. You don’t quite split it, but it’s getting closer than ever. And hello Jack Lumber.

A few chops in, you feel the muscles in the back of your neck tense. Someone’s behind you, and you’re not quite sure who. But soon enough, a low, sinister chuckle reaches your ears. Micah.

“Well,” he says. “Looks like the camp nuisance is finally doing some work.”

You slowly count to three before turning around. Micah stands by you, a little too close for your liking, and he’s got a smirk on his face that twists your gut something awful. You’ve started wearing a gun belt, and the hand that isn’t holding the ax inadvertently twitches toward your revolver.

“You know something, Y/N?” He takes a step toward you. “I think you’re starting to wear out your welcome.”

Fire ignites in your chest. No. No. Micah doesn’t get to do this, try and make you second-guess yourself and your place in the gang—especially not after you’ve just started feeling comfortable.

“Back off, you useless mineral,” you hiss.

Micah’s lips curl into a snarl as he takes another step toward you. This one feels infinitely more threatening, and you barely keep yourself from taking a step back. You’ll be damned if Micah wins this fight.

“Take another step,” you warn, “and I’ll jump rope with your intestines.”

Honestly, you don’t really expect him to feel threatened, but the odd choice in words is enough to throw him off. You can see him trying to process everything you said, which gives you enough time to throw the ax down and skedaddle.

Your heart thuds frantically in your chest as you hurry to Arthur and Charles. Micah won’t try anything if you’re with them; that much, you know for sure.

“We ready to go?” You ask as nonchalantly as you can. “If I chop one more piece of wood, I’ll have to start wearing flannel.”

Charles looks confused at “flannel,” but Arthur frowns as he glances over at the chopping block. His expression hardens when he sees Micah storming away.

“Micah giving you trouble?” He asks, a hint of something dangerous in his voice.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” You go to lean against the hitching post, miss, and almost topple over. Face burning, you settle for folding your arms over your chest.

Arthur and Charles exchange looks.

“If he tries anything,” Charles tells you, calm and steady, “let us know. We’ll take care of it.”

We’ll take care of it. How a statement so simple and so general can sound that dangerous, you’ll never know. You wordlessly nod, not knowing how to respond.

Charles leaves, then, to go saddle Taima. You look to Arthur, ready to follow him to Florence, who’s already tacked up and ready. But he doesn’t move.

“Micah been buggin’ you a lot?”

You shake your head. “Not really. I mean, he gave me a hard time when I was cleaning up Pearson’s wagon a while ago, but Hosea scared him off.”

Arthur turns to look at you. “And today?”

“Oh.” You think back to the confrontation. “Well, he called me the ‘camp nuisance’ and said I was starting to wear out my welcome.”

A glint of fury flashes through Arthur’s eyes as he throws a glare in Micah’s general direction. You shiver involuntarily. Thank goodness you’re not on a certain cowboy’s bad side.

“I’ve been called worse, to be honest,” you say with a shrug, and smile slightly when Arthur looks at you again. “I’m kinda used to it.”

He gives you a troubled frown instead of sharing your nonchalance. Confused, you feel your smile waver a little.

“What?” You ask.

“You…” Arthur begins, trails off, then continues: “You know it ain’t true, right?”

“What isn’t?”

“The part about being a nuisance. You ain’t wearing out your welcome, either.”

Something pulls at your heart, something strong, and you’re suddenly at a loss for words. You’ve had so many doors slammed in your face, so many people come and go, never staying, never even wanting to stay… And you couldn’t do anything but watch them leave.

“Oh,” is all you manage around a tight throat.

Arthur looks at you some more. His eyes are soft now, soft and full of what you think is understanding. He reaches out, maybe to put a hand on your shoulder, but apparently thinks better of it and instead motions for you to follow him. You trail a little behind as he walks toward Florence. You ain’t wearing out your welcome, either. Did… did Arthur really mean that? Does that mean the rest of the gang, minus Micah, feels the same way? You can’t help but shake your head in wonder. You don’t think you’ll ever understand these people.

Once you catch up, Arthur easily swings himself on top of Florence, then hauls you into the saddle behind him. You’re starting to get used to horseback. Florence may be absolutely massive, but you don’t feel so unsteady anymore. In fact, you might actually like riding.

“We’re meeting up with Javier just outside of Blackwater,” Charles says as he brings Taima over. “Trelawney thinks the bounty hunters will bring Sean upriver.”

Arthur nods and sets a steady trot out of camp. “Good. We can probably cut ‘em off when they reach the border. I think there’s a canyon that’ll give us some decent cover.”

“Any luck, we’ll take them by surprise.” Charles urges Taima into a canter, which Florence matches. “How many do you think there’ll be?”

“For Sean?” Arthur laughs, and you try not to look too enamored. “Any pair of fools could handle him. But there’ll be a lot of ‘em, no doubt.”

Charles hums in thought, but doesn’t say anything else. Much of the ride passes in comfortable silence. Although you want to focus on admiring the scenery and marvel at the lack of, well, everything, you find yourself thinking about the upcoming fight. You may not know a lot about the past, but you’ve seen enough Westerns to know bounty hunters always put up a hell of a fight. That, and they always keep coming right when you think you’ve killed them all.

Your revolver suddenly feels heavy in its holster. You bite your lip, a little unsure. Yes, you’ve used it once at Six Point Cabin, and yes, you’ve managed to hit a few bottles, but those were honestly lucky shots. And neither of them were shooting back.

Bounty hunters, though? Different story. For as much bravado as you showed Dutch during his little tirade, you have to admit that you’re a little nervous. It’ll be your first real gunfight. You’ll have Arthur and Charles looking out for you, but you can’t help the anxiety knotting deep in your gut.

If I die, I die, you think. No going back now.

///

Conversation lags for the remainder of the ride. Eventually, after crossing a small river, you’re in what Arthur tells you is West Elizabeth. It looks… well, it looks like a perfect snapshot of a history textbook. Rolling hills and open land, bison… it’s absolutely stunning.

Off in the distance, you see two people looking over the edge of a cliff. You recognize Javier, but you don’t recognize the other man, with his mustache and mischievous eyes. He smiles when he sees Arthur and Charles, then peers at you curiously.

“And who might this be?” He asks as Arthur dismounts, leaving you alone atop Florence.

Your brain goes into a blue screen of death, and before you know what you’re doing, you say: “My name is an enigma and holds all the secrets of the universe.”

“That would be Y/N,” Arthur says, exasperated. He helps you down and grabs his rifle from the saddle. “Y/N, this is Josiah Trelawney.”

Trelawney bows with a flourish. “At your service, my dear.”

You instantly decide you like him. Waving hello to Javier, you approach the edge of the cliff, crouching low like everyone else.

“Sean?” Arthur asks as he looks down the scope of his rifle.

“I think he’s in that boat over there.” Javier gestures to a small vessel upriver. “Think they’re docking to take him further inland.”

Arthur turns the scope, then gives a hum of confirmation. “That’s him alright. Giving those bounty hunters hell.”

Trelawney nods and rises before mounting his horse. Setting a slow walk, he motions for everyone to follow him. Arthur helps you on to Florence, and then you’re off once more.

“If we do this right,” Trelawney says, “we can cut them off. Remember: we’re just innocent folk out for a ride on the trail. Let’s not draw their attention just yet.”

The five of you ride toward a canyon. Ahead, you can see the boat docked at the shore, along with several well-armed, intimidating bounty hunters standing guard. They don’t look like they’re in much of a mood to negotiate. In fact, they look ready to shoot on sight.

Everyone takes cover around the bend. Trelawney, odd man that he is, seems more preoccupied with his coat than the problem at hand.

“Now ain’t the time for a fashion statement,” Arthur drawls.

“Au contraire, my dear fellow,” Trelawney says with a smile. “Bounty hunters are even more gullible than hillbillies. I have to look the part if I’m going to make the proper distraction.”

Then, before any of you can say a word otherwise, Trelawney strides confidently toward the bounty hunters. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you just know he’s spinning a tale bigger than the Grizzlies. He waves his arms in a grandiose gesture. In another situation, you would have mistaken it for part of the act. But now, along with Arthur, Charles, and Javier, you recognize it for what it is: a signal.

Arthur fires a quick shot, striking one of the bounty hunters between the eyes. From there, it’s chaos. All you can hear is the sound of gunfire and shouting. You take cover behind a rock, firing your revolver without really trying to hit anything. You don’t know if any of your bullets find their marks. Honestly? Probably not.

“Let’s push up on ‘em,” Arthur commands.

You stick close by him as you make your way up the canyon. The bounty hunters have regrouped by now, which lets them put up more of a fight. A bullet whizzes by your ear—too close for you to ignore—and you yelp and duck further into cover.

Arthur quickly lays down some cover fire, then hauls you up and pulls you behind a larger rock. You don’t even have time to tell him thank you. The firefight picks up again, bullets flying, ricocheting, sometimes hitting their targets, sometimes hitting the canyon walls. It takes nearly all your self-control to keep a level head.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Javier reloading his guns, but also just barely peeking out of cover. You look up the canyon trail. There, off in the distance, half-hidden by gun smoke and dust, you can just barely make out the silhouette of a bounty hunter—and he’s aiming right at Javier.

You steel yourself. You’re not some useless coward who needs to be protected. You’re a member of the Van Der Linde Gang—an outlaw. And one of your own is in danger.

Your anxiety flees, replaced by determination. Edging ever-so-slightly out of cover, you fire off a shot toward the bounty hunter, then duck back behind the boulder. A pained yell tells you that you hit your mark, and it’s followed by silence.

Javier looks at the fallen bounty hunter, then at you. He nods his head in thanks. Smiling, you tip your fingers in a mock-salute, then follow Arthur as he pushes further up the canyon.

It doesn’t take long for your little group to reach a clearing. Right away, you see someone dangling upside down from a tree. He’s also surrounded by vicious-looking men who you would honestly rather avoid.

Well,you think to yourself. That must be Sean.

The bounty hunters have been expecting you, and they fire several warning shots into the tree line. You duck behind the trunk of a massive pine. To your right, you see Arthur considering the situation, trying to figure out the best approach. On your left, Javier and Charles wait on a signal. You don’t know what happened to Trelawney, but you think he’s alright.

“If we can get around them,” Arthur eventually says, “we can come at them from all sides.”

Javier grins. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Charles gives him a look. “Only the fish can shoot back.”

Arthur nods, then looks back toward the clearing. “Someone’s gotta get to Sean quick as they can. I got a feeling he’s gonna be bait.”

“I’ll do it,” you tell him. “There’s enough cover behind that tree he’s tied up in. I’ll be fine.”

For a long, long moment, Arthur looks uncertain. But when you give him a pleading look, silently begging him to let you prove yourself, he sighs and folds the cards.

“Alright,” he agrees. “Wait until you got a clear opening, then go for it.”

Everyone heads off in opposite directions, leaving you to prepare yourself for the sprint of the century. One by one, the boys shoot the bounty hunters, hitting each with impeccable aim. Then, almost before you’re ready, you spy the perfect opportunity.

Making a beeline for Sean, you dive behind the tree just as the bullets start flying again. You sit there for a few seconds, catching your breath. You can’t believe you’re still alive. All that time in open space, and not a single scratch on you.

“It’s over!” You hear one of the bounty hunters shout.

He sounds dangerously close to you. Peeking around the tree, you see him standing not a foot away, pointing his rifle at Sean.

Shit.

You duck back into hiding before you’re spotted. This is exactly what you didn’twant to happen, and it happened anyway. Wracking your brain for ideas, you look around for anything that could be of use.

Think think think think think think—

There’s a corpse not too far from you, and you spy a knife on its belt. Moving purely on instinct and adrenaline, you snatch it from its sheath, turn back to the bounty hunter, and shove it through his throat right in the middle of his next sentence. He stays on his feet for maybe a second longer, then collapses.

You slowly back away from him. Dimly, you realize that the fire fight is over, that everyone else is okay, but you can’t bring yourself to focus on that. All you can do is stare at the body on the ground… the man you just killed.

“You alright there, friend?” Sean asks, still upside down.

“Uh,” your voice sounds far away to your own ears, “yeah. I’m fine.”

After that, you have maybe five seconds before your stomach lurches. Doubling over, you heave violently for a while before coughing, spitting out the taste in your mouth, and wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“Hiya Sean. I’m Y/N.”

Accompanying Music: Still Breathing | Green Day

Ko-Fi

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #fic #welcome home

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plainbrunettelbl · 5 years

Text

ABO (A) Dragon Bakugo Katsuki x Pregnant (O) Reader Crimson Scales (Part Two)

Word count: 2970

Warnings: Kidnapping. Mentions blood.

Title: ABO (A) Dragon Bakugo Katsuki x Pregnant (O) Reader Crimson Scales (Part Two)

Summary: Thieves steal you from your den and your dragon is not happy about it.

(Gif not mine)

💥-You sat nestled against a pile of gold and jewels. Soft fur blankets helped soften the hard objects you were laying on. A Dragons hoard was a magical thing. Dragons seemed to know every single piece of jewelry and coin of gold that belonged to their hoard.

💥-Their hoard sings soft rhymes to them and strengthens them.

💥-Dragons with smaller hoards tend to be weaker. A bountiful hoard is a sign of good health and prowess. Of course, Bakugo’s hoard was generous in size. Thus making him a powerful Dragon to challenge.

💥-His brilliant ruby scales and humongous size were because of his massive hoard.

💥-Most dragons didn’t want to fly in the same sky as him.

💥-He had grudgingly told you he had a few friends but their dens were too far for you to travel. At least right now in your condition. You were with pup, or hatchling as Bakugo corrected you many times.

💥-Your Alpha might be rough and intimidating but that didn’t mean your mate didn’t spend twenty whole minutes in the sky looping and diving in happiness.

💥-Dragons are connected to their hoard and it seems that this little one was no different. If you didn’t lay resting on top of the hoard or have some of it touching you it would become restless.

💥-A wiggling dragon in your stomach was not ideal.

💥-So Bakugo lovingly moved your nest to lay on his hoard. Or as he would like to point out, it was both yours and his. You are his mate so you have every claim to his hoard as much as him.

💥-He loved to see you adorned in rubies.

💥-“Are you sure you are gonna be okay?” He asked, leaning over you.

💥-“Yes, the pup and I will be fine.” You reassured, rubbing your stomach.

💥-“Hatching.” He corrected, moving his own hand to do the same.

💥-“Mmh.” You hummed, loving the feeling of his warm hands on yours.

💥-His dragon form sure came in handy during the winter. Most of the time he rested curled around you. He loved to cuddle with you in his human form too but sometimes his dragon wanted out.

💥-And his dragon took pride in being able to keep his mate warmed and comfortable in the winter. You often fell asleep resting against his rumbling chest.

💥-You didn’t mind either way.

💥-“I shouldn’t be gone long. I know where I want to go for their birthing jewel.” He rubbed his hand on your cheek.

💥-Dragons had many traditions. One of them being the birthing jewel. When a hatchling was born a dragon parent gift them a rough jewel. Once they were old enough they would polish and shine it. Making it into whatever piece of jeweler they would like.

💥-It would be the heart of their future hoard.

💥-Katsuki had already shown you his. He crafted it into a brilliant gold ring. The ruby was as big as a grape. He wore it sometimes but liked to keep it hidden in his hoard.

💥-He let you try it one once. Let’s just say you found out you were with pup a few weeks after. Dragons loved seeing their mates adorned with their hoard. Katsuki was no different.

💥-“I know.” You leaned up to kiss him. “The pup and I are probably gonna be napping the whole time and won’t even notice your absence.”

💥-“I don’t know about that.” He smirked, pulling his hand from your stomach.

💥-Instantly your pup kicked at the loss of their father’s hand.

💥-You huffed, ”I wish they didn’t do that. My ribs can only handle so many kicks and punches.” You shifted around trying to get comfortable.

💥-“Stop it, little one. Be nice to your mother.” He rumbled, softly caressing your stomach again.

💥-It worked like magic, your pup settled down.

💥-“I should be back before the sun starts to set. Make sure to rest, Y/N.” He commanded, leaning down to scent you one more time before leaving the den.

💥-“I will. Be careful.” You called out.

💥-“I will.” He threw over his shoulder before transforming and flying off.

***

💥-True to your word you slept most of the time. You only woke up when you heard feet kick around rocks at the entrance.

💥-“Katsuki! You are back earlier than I expected.” You turned around to look up at him.

💥-It wasn’t him.

💥-Three men stood at the entrance. They were dressed in torn and dirty clothes. You picked up a harsh tobacco scent from them. Your stomach rolled at it. Two of them were Betas. It wasn’t hard to tell that the biggest one was an Alpha.

💥-“Well, would you look at that. A dragon’s Omega all alone.” The Alpha remarked, stepping closer. “A good hoard she is sitting under as well.” He whistled.

💥-You stiffened at his words. Your Omega whimpering at the danger you are in. You had no weapon, and even if you did you couldn’t fight them off in your condition.

💥-You wouldn’t let them hurt your pup.

💥-“My mate should be back soon. You should leave before he burns you to a crisp.” You warned, pulling your blanket closer to you. Hoping they wouldn’t notice how defenseless you were.

💥-“I don’t think so.” The Alpha hummed walking towards you. “I think you are just trying to get us to leave.”

💥-You tried to make your body as small as possible. “Leave!” You tried to keep up your strong facade. You wanted to cry at the thought of him touching you in any way.

💥-“Don’t worry, we will. Just with as much gold and jewelry, we can take.” He grinned evilly, resting a hand on your head.

💥-You bite his hand, he yanked it back with a hiss, “Looks like the dragon’s mate is as feisty has their mate.” He called over his shoulder to his friends, he turned back to look at you. “I don’t hit Omegas so I’ll let it slide. Now be a good Omega and sit and stay quiet.”

💥-You just glared at him in response. You didn’t have a choice. If you jumped up and continued to fight him it wouldn’t be good for you or your pup. So you bit back your anger and fear and stayed put.

💥-“Good, Omega.” He cooed at your still frame. “Alright boys, grab as much as you can.”

💥-The Betas grinned and got to work. It hurt you to see them take your mates hoard. You stayed put, keeping your stomach hidden within your mound of blankets.

💥-Until you noticed one of the Betas digging around in the gold, scooping up as much as he could to fit into his bag. He hadn’t spotted it yet, but his digging revealed Bakugo’s heart of his hoard.

💥-You couldn’t let him discover it. Dragons were lost without it. Never able to fully recover without its loss. Bakugo would tell you horror stories of Dragon’s going insane because they lost the heart of their hoard.

💥-You wouldn’t let them take it.

💥-You jumped up from your spot and charged at him. You reached for the gold necklace in his hands. Acting like you cared about the meaningless jeweler.

💥-“That’s mine! You can’t have that.” You tried to take it out of his hands.

💥-He merely huffed and rolled his eyes at your sudden interference. You reached for it again and he shoved you down onto the hoard. It hurt your delicate body but it was just what you planned.

💥-You sneakily slid your Alpha’s heart into your fur robes.

💥-“Shut up, Omega. It’s mine now.” He sneered, putting it into his bag.

💥-“Oh give it back to her, Grant. It’s going the same place either way.” The Alpha’s eyes burned against your frame.

💥-“What do you mean? You said we would leave the Omega?” The Beta questioned, a confused look on his face.

💥-“We were until we found out she was carrying a Dragon pup.” He continued, eyes sliding down to your bump.

💥-You shrunk under his gaze, bringing your hand up to cover it. You started chirping up a storm. Hoping your Alpha was close enough to hear you.

💥-“You know I don’t hit Omegas. I don’t think my friend Grant has the same rules.” He disclosed, his eyes narrowing. “Shut her up before her dumb mate catches on.”

💥-Before you could react a sharp pain hit your head and you passed out.

***

💥-Bakugo was deep in a cavern when his Dragon started acting up. It was hissing and clawing at his chest. He didn’t waste any time transforming and taking flight. Something must be wrong with his mate and he was determined to get to her.

💥-He hoped it wasn’t the hatchling causing her distress.

💥-He made it to his den in record time. He transformed into his human form before rushing in.

💥-“Omega? Are you okay? Did something happen?” He looked at his hoard to find you weren't there. Neither was most of his hoard. His eyes narrowed at a small spot of blood near the hoard.

💥-He didn’t have to scent it to know it was his Omegas.

💥-He wasted no time transforming and letting out a vengeful roar. He would burn the whole world down looking for his mate and hatchling, but first, he would start with this forest.

💥-He shot off into the sky, his hulking frame shaking in fury.

***

💥-“Did you hear that?” One of the Beta’s asked, looking up into the sky. The sun was slowly setting. Oranges and yellows muddled the sky.

💥-“I didn’t.” The Alpha replied, bouncing your slumped frame higher on his back. He wished he had a wagon to carry you and the gold in. Wagons were easy to spot so traveling on foot was better.

💥-The Alpha didn’t want to admit it but your pregnant form and the jewelry were weighing on him too much.

💥-“We can stop and rest for the night.” He said after twenty more minutes of traveling.

💥-“What? But we need to be farther away. The dragon should know his hoard and mate are gone now.” One replied, looking at the Alpha with a hint of worry.

💥-“So what? We have traveled far enough that he wouldn’t know where we are. I say we are setting up camp so we are setting up camp.” He growled, not liking his authority being challenged.

💥-“Y-yes.” The Beta agreed, slightly shaking under the Alpha’s glare.

💥-To his credit, the Alpha did wrap you up in blankets before taking you out of your den and into the cold. The pup inside you would sell for a high price. So he was making sure nothing happened to you before you could give birth to it.

💥-After that, he might just leave you for the wolves. He knew animals tended to get hungry in the winter. He set you down on the cold ground before gathering things to make a fire. You weren't being left in the cold to die just yet.

💥-The warmth of the fire woke you. For a second you thought you were cuddling up against your purring dragon. That image was shattered when your face was hit with a gust of cold air.

💥-The gruff voices talking over the fire solidified the fact that you had been kidnapped. Before you could pretend like you were fast asleep distressed chirps burst from your chest.

💥-“Well look who is up.” The Alpha smirked at you from across the fire. “You are pretty far from home Omega. Your Alpha won’t hear you.” He went on.

💥-You teared up at the thought of being far from your mate and den. You wanted to be at home curled up with your warm Alpha and not here with a measly fire keeping you from freezing.

💥-“He will come for me you know. You can’t take a dragons pregnant mate and not expect for him to not come looking for me and the pup.” You glared, holding back your tears.

💥-“Ya ya.” The Alpha rolled his eyes at your words.

💥-You were about to tell into him with more about of what your Alpha would do to them when he found you but that died on your lips when you looked behind the Alpha and saw ruby eyes glinting in the dark.

💥-You nearly squealed in joy seeing your Alpha.

💥-You kept quiet though. Not wanting to alert the thieves that he was here. You Alpha made a motion with his hands and you understood. You peeled back the fur blanket resting on you and sat up.

💥-The males eyed you.

💥-“Do you know much about dragons?” You asked, trying hard not to smirk.

💥-“Ya. They like gold and steal Omegas right?” The Beta responded, leaning forward.

💥-“That is partly true but do you know much about a dragons mate?” You questioned, shifting your feet to get ready to stand.

💥-“No, not really. Dragons are a secretive bunch. With them hiding in caves a lot there isn’t much information on them.” The Beta pondered, a thoughtful look on his face.

💥-The Alpha looked bored with your conversation.

💥-“I’ll let you in on a secret. Once bonded a dragon’s fire doesn’t affect their mate. A dragon can breathe fire onto their mate and not a hair on their body would be singed.” You volunteered, standing up and brushing off the blankets completely.

💥-“And you are telling us this because?” The Alpha finally speaking up.

💥-“No reason really. Just that I should be fine now that my Alpha is here. Can’t say the same about you all.” You said, walking a bit away from them.

💥-You might not burn but your clothes sure would.

💥-Before any of them could really respond to the sound of trees snapping and your Alpha roaring rang throughout the forest. He had shifted into his dragon form and even in the dark his scales shined.

💥-He breathed fire into the air to showcase his fury.

💥-His chest glowed like a burning furnace in the dark.

💥-The thieves took off in different directions and you were glad they did. You didn’t want to hear their screams. Once it was clear that they were gone and not coming back you went and settled on the blankets by the fire.

💥-Your pup jolted awake at their father’s roar and started wiggling around.

💥-“It’s okay, pup. Your father is here. He is just dealing with something right now.” You cooed, rubbing your stomach to try and calm them.

💥-He was done with them pretty quick. You heard his hulking frame snapping trees before it stopped and he was running towards you. Happy chirps left you as he wrapped his strong arms around you.

💥-“Omega.” He breathed, his voice husky and slightly wobbly.

💥-“The pup and I are fine, Alpha.” You purred, leaning up to put your face into his warm neck, scenting him in the process.

💥-His hand clutched at your waist and stomach. Your pup calmed at the contact. He pulled your face away from him and eyed your forehead. A little dried up blood caked your hair.

💥-“One of them hit you. I should have killed them slower.” He growled, looking at your injury.

💥-“It’s fine, Alpha. You are here now and you won’t let anything happen to me and the pup.” You softly smiled, looking into his heated eyes.

💥-“Hatchling.” He softly corrected, getting lost in your soft gaze.

💥-You chuckled, “Hatchling.” You smiled, “Let’s go home.”

💥-“Yes, Omega.” He rumbled, before lifting you up in his arms princess style.

💥-“Wait! Your hoard!” You said, just remembering.

💥-“I can come back and get it after I have you warm and safe in our den.” He said, walking forward, ignoring the sacks of gold around the base.

💥-“I have your hoard heart. I made sure they didn’t take it.” You told him, burrowing closer to his warm chest.

💥-“Thank you.” He purred, leaning down to kiss your head.

Bonus:

💥-“I don’t want a new den! I like my bathing pool.” You pouted, crossing your arms. You sat in the den on his hoard. Bakugo standing in front of you with a stubborn glare.

💥-“I’ll make you another one! This den isn’t safe enough. I don’t want this to happen again.” He argued, running a hand through his hair. “I need you and the pups safe.”

💥-You knew coming home to find you kidnapped really did a number on him. He has been way more protective of you in the last few days. Constantly hovering and growling at anything that he thought was dangerous.

💥-“Fine, but you have to make me another one in our new den and only after the pup is born. I don’t think moving to another den right now is good for them.” You agreed, rubbing your stomach.

💥-“Of course, Omega.” He walked forward and dropped towards his knees so he was closer to your pup.

💥-“You think they like their birthing jewel?” He asked, eyeing the natural jewel that rested on top of your stomach.

💥-“They do. I can’t take it off my stomach without them kicking me in the kidney.” You laughed, loving the look of pride on his face.

💥-“Of course they like it, what child of mine wouldn't like a ruby.” He preened, proud that he chose right.

💥-You giggled, “I think I prefer emeralds so I don’t know.” You joked, knowing a certain green-scaled “friend” of his had a liking for them.

💥-“Don’t even say that.” He grumbled.

💥-You couldn’t help but laugh at his sour face.

Okay, first post in a while. I hope you like it. I know you guys liked crimson scales and wanted a part two so here you go! What did you think? I feel a little rusty so honest feedback would be nice. I am also sleep deprived so go easy.

I hope everyone has a good Christmas! 🎄

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tavard-ffxiv · 3 years

Text

FFXIV WRITE 2021 - #10 HEADY

The big chocobo chirped and bounced. His massive beak rattled the metal bit and he tugged restlessly at the reins. The rider on his back huffed and shook the reins gently. Leaning forward, the half-Elezen rubbed the birds neck and shoulder. The big yellow bird, feathers tipped in orange, flapped his short wings, swaying side to side.

"Easy, Featherhead," Jaxon laughed. "We're going. Soon, soon."

Featherhead had earned his name over years. While honest, eager, and happy to please, Jaxon had learned long ago he was an absolute fool of a bird. He had little self-preservation and when excited tended to forget everything. Which was why he never let the big gelding run at full speed anywhere by an open road or meadow before the fool would banish himself right into a tree. Not to mention scrape off his rider.

The chocobo had been bred in Tailfeather from what Jaxon would have considered an unfortunate experiment. His mother, a massive wild bird given the totally ill-suited name of Pumpkin, was fast, strong, and utterly untrainable. No one could quite determine if it was just lack of intelligence or just plain vile temper. She was well-known to be difficult to handle, impossible to ride, and the single attempt at teaching her to pull had resulted in two broken arms and a destroyed wagon. So Pumpkin, big orange-feathered beast that she was, was 'retired' to breeding.

Jaxon could only assume her admittedly exceptional physical qualities had blinded the stablemaster to the many drawbacks of her temperament.

The other problem was the infamous Pumpkin seemed to hate other chocobos as much as anything else. She quickly rejected multiple suitors, sending the poor birds running for their lives. Jaxon could only assume sheer frustration and desperation prompted them to introduce her to Sugardrop. Sugardrop wasn't an exceptional bird in terms of size or shape, but he was solid, cheerful, and friendly. He wasn't ever dashing enough to be a knight's mount, but he happily pulled the hunter's wagons with a steady merry dedication. So Jaxon had to think they hoped that happy easy-going personality would either pass to Pumpkin's offspring or at least rub off on her.

So cheerful, friendly and perhaps a bit dim was Sugardrop that he utterly ignored Pumpkin's violent threats while courting her with all the devotion and dedication of a knight in a story. He danced. He bowed. He brought her sticks and leaves. He offered her his food. He ignored her rude pecks, angry shrieks, smacking wings, and rough kicks. With unending good will, the cart-chocobo courted the wild hen.

To everyone's utter shock, it actually worked.

The resulting chick was, naturally, Featherhead. He was big, sturdy, and strong with just a hint of his mother's orange to his feathers. To the delight of the handlers, he proved to be as cheerful and easy-going as his father. Of course, when training started, they realized he was definitely lacking in a few areas. One being memory. Training him took a very long time. Most chocobos figured things out after a few repetitions. Not poor Featherhead. It was normally a dozen or more. Still, he was friendly and utterly impossible to startle.

Of course, when Jaxon met the thick-headed chocobo gelding, chewing on a leaf, he immediately liked the big lug. And the stablemaster was happy enough to sell him and probably be done with the whole bloodline. Last Jaxon had heard, they had released Pumpkin and her lovelorn 'husband' Sugardrop into the forest. They'd attempted to release Pumpkin alone, but apparently she decided not to go without Sugardrop. Hopefully the cheerful bird would be fine with such a determined protector.

It had taken more than two years of slow, patient training to get Featherhead to some sort of 'normal', but Jaxon never seemed to get impatient. And he never doubted that Feathers was a loyal friend and a happy one. Just perhaps not the most clever one. And, of course, most of his equipment had to be custom-made.

Now though, years later, Jaxon could only grin as Feathers gave an excited 'kweh!' and bounced in place, crest ruffled high and big eyes bright and happy. "All right, you big lug," he chuckled, shifting in the saddle and finding his balance. "Go." He loosened the reins and clicked his tongue sharply.

With a delighted squawk, Featherhead leapt forward hard enough that both feet left the ground. He hit the grass running, neck stretched out and wings opened for balance. He might not be the most clever, but he was fast and fearless. He charged forward at full speed in a heady rush for the sheer joy of going fast. There were few things Featherhead loved more than running. He seemed to get a special joy from taking his rider on a run too. It was infectious and Jaxon laughed, even if it was whipped away by the wind.

"That's my boy," he called, burying his fingers in the bird's neck feathers and scratching in praise. "Go."

Master Post | FFXIV Write Information | Prompt List

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #my writing #oc: Jax #oc: Featherhead #jax's chocobro

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Hope Lies In Tomorrow

Author: @mega-aulover

Prompt: Katniss is caught crossing the fence by peacekeepers. Serves time. Conditions of parole: employment nearby (busy bakery?) and reporting weekly to the parole officer (Haymitch?) Will she find anything to be thankful for this thanksgiving [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rating: M (Because, well, it will get to that status. There will be violence and mentions of abuse, and some characters are off canon.)

Author’s Notes: This story took me for a loop. I couldn’t resist it. I tried to make it light and fun, but it just wanted to be a freight train to the gut. The words “serves time.” I kept on getting back to that, and my imagination just took flight so much that the first two chapters are about 9.5K words. I promise chapter 3 will be a painful doozy. Special thanks to @norbertsmom.

Chapter One

The spotlight made Katniss wince as she distinctly heard Darius say, “Pluck a duck,” into the cold dark night.

“We caught a Poacher!” The young Peacekeeper said out loud. He jumped and clapped his hands like a preschool girl with pigtails who just won a prized sticker. He was one of the new cadets brought in for training.

Daruis was the new Head Peacekeeper. He earned the promotion when Cray retired. Darius also inherited the group of new Peacekeepers. They were eager rule-following Cadets.

“Everdeen!” Darius groused.

Katniss sighed. She kept her hands in the air. It was the perfect ending to the worst day. It started with the evil spawn of Buttercup peeing inside her drawer. Things got worse when Gale announced he wasn’t going to be able to join her tonight, and he wouldn’t tell her why either. Then this afternoon she discovered her baby sister, well technically, Prim was seventeen and taller than Katniss, but that’s neither here nor there, she was rolling in the hay with Vick Hawthorne.

Prim wasn’t supposed to be…. well…sex crazed. Katniss saw red, took a bucket of ice-cold water, and dumped it on top of the two idiots. Vick was fifteen and, like Gale, looked older than Prim’s baby-faced self. Needless to say, Prim was livid. Vick went home with blue balls. And the arguing match that ensued gave Katniss a massive headache.

However, finding her sister doing the equivalent of two goats breeding in Lady’s pen was nothing compared to their mothers’ reactions to Prim’s escapade. Euadora Everdeen backed Prim and said, “Prim was doing what came natural.” It was what came next that flabbergasted Katniss. “At least I have one normal daughter.”

It was the last straw, until this moment.

This day was supposed to go so differently. She’d woken up with so much hope then things fell apart. But she’d kept thinking, tomorrow, tomorrow would be a brighter day. Just get through today and tomorrow would be a better day.

“Katniss,” Darius growled.

Katniss shrugged. There was nothing Darius could do. If he had been alone, he would have looked the other way.

“I’m sorry, but I have to take you in.”

She held out her hands; she knew the drill. This wasn’t going to be her first time in the District Twelve lock up. In fact, as Darius pulled her toward the transport, and she quietly climbed into the back, this was all familiar. The last time was at that darned Harvest Fair five years ago.

“This would have been easier had you gone to the Fair,” Darius said.

Her scowl was instantaneous.

“What,” Darius said, jumping inside of the wagon while the young Peacekeeper closed the door.

“I’m sorry, Darius.

“I know, Katniss,” Darius was sympathetic. His communicator crackled with a voice that communicated a code. “Roger that.”

In the semi-darkness Katniss could see Darius teeth as he grinned.

“Old man Haymitch is going to throw the book at you.” Haymitch and she had a long-standing history. She stayed out of trouble and he wouldn’t bring trouble to her.

Haymitch Abernathy was the former Victor of the 50th Hunger Games and town drunk. The transition from a government run by one man, President Snow, to one run by a council with a true elected leader were the scariest months in Panem. No one knew what would happen. Fears of retaliation from the former government ran high. The word came down from the Capitol for each district to send a District Liaison.

Haymitch volunteered.

Turns out the drunken Victor was smart, wilier than anyone could perceive. Haymitch helped form the transition team to create the new charter between the Capitol and the Districts. When he came back, Haymitch could have been elected to become the mayor. He could have taken over the position of Head Peacekeeper, since Cray was from the old regime. Instead, Haymitch made up a position, the town Magistrate. Every district would have a way to fairly dispense justice, with the Peacekeepers relegated to do just what their name described keeping the peace. From town drunk to judge, this was the world of the new Panem.

Though Katniss would rather face Haymitch than her mother.

“Has your mother calmed down?”

Katniss grimaced. It all started with the initiative. Ever since the President went crazy and abolished the Games, calling it the Lucy Grey Baird initiative, and then promptly dying before anyone could change the law, her mother’s focus changed from reliving the past to finding Katniss a husband.

Her mother began railing against her plan to stay single. Mind you Katniss was only sixteen at the time and she could only focus on the fact that her baby sister would never again experience a Reaping.

Nope, not her mother, Eudora Everdeen, somewhere between her melancholy that ensued after pa’s death and the cancellation of the 74th Hunger Games, decided to become a holy nightmare, worse than any horror Katniss’s imagination could conjure up. Her mother tried to fix her up with various men throughout the district. Her mother’s sting about her single status was the last straw tonight.

“She’s stopped,” Katniss flinched; it wasn’t the entire truth.

Eudora hadn’t really stopped, there were introductions all of the time. There was Waylon, Adam, Zachary, Jackson, Hank, Lee, Hunter, Davis, Ashley, Samuel, Vernon, Beau, Elijah, not to mention Humperdinck, who was also known as the Goat Man. It was always the same pattern. A subtle introduction, followed by an invitation to tea or supper or both, a run in in the Seam or the Hob, before the guy in question lost interest and her mother went back to the drawing board. Eudora didn’t push, but she didn’t relent either. However, recently, her mother had been quiet. Katniss hoped after 5 years, her mother finally gave up.

“But?” Darius asked.

The transport shook as it began to move.

“Nothing.”

“You know, you’re a bad liar.”

“She doesn’t like me being alone.”

“That’s preposterous. I know plenty of women Peacekeepers.”

“You know we are talking about Eudora Everdeen?”

Darius grinned. “You mother did tell one of my new recruits she should leave her hair down because it would make her look pretty. She even asked me when my time was up and if I was interested in courting you.”

“Yup,” Katniss breathed, “that’s my mother.”

“So is it true she tried to pair you with Gale and even Gale got scared.”

“How do you know?” Katniss’ mother first picked Gale, who conversely, after seeing her mother try to manipulate them as a couple, was shocked. One good thing came off Eudora’s meddling. Gale laid off the entire, we-make-sense offer to toast angle, and suddenly became a perfect angel around her and the rogue doubled his efforts around other women to prove that he wasn’t interested in Katniss.

“You forget how small District Twelve is,“ Darius said looking tired as he rubbed his face.

He’s right. Twelve is the smallest of all the Districts. And nothing stayed buried, just like a piece of coal, it would be eventually unearthed.

"Gale said my mother was loonier than the Goat man when he got drunk on Ripper’s special liquor.” Ripper called her special liquor, the ‘shine.’ There were rumors the shine caused people to do strange things. Katniss wasn’t interested in drinking anything that wasn’t life sustaining. Her only thought was to keep food on the table and maintain the roof over her family’s heads. Just last summer she had to fix the roof all by herself. Drinking or marriage were out of the picture.

When Gale politely said he wasn’t interested in Katniss, her mother was upset, but said she understood that Gale only saw Katniss as a sister. Five years ago, Katniss hoped with her mother’s attempts thwarted, Eudora would give up getting her hitched. Little did she know it wasn’t over by a long shot.

Darius snorted. “Your name comes up every year."

"Ugh. I avoid that damned dance every year.” There were three main social events in District Twelve, where parents shoved their young for possible partnerships and couples did coupley things, The Spring Formal, The Harvest Fair, and the Winter Festival. The last of these major social events had been the Harvest Fair.

“Waylon still asks about you every time.”

Katniss groaned hearing that name again. He was Leevy’s brother, who was in Gale’s class. Waylon was the next on her mother’s list. Waylon’s obsession began slowly. He failed his last year of school and became a quasi-associate. He would show up at her locker and want to walk with her to class. At first it was nice. He was Gale’s friend and as long as he didn’t talk, she didn’t mind. When they graduated, he went to work in the mines. Katniss set up a booth in the Hob selling her jerky.

And for a time, everything was calm. Then he started coming to supper. He tried to become friends with Prim. Her sister thought him weird. Then one day, Waylon tried to kiss her. When she pushed him away, he chased her straight into the forest. Thankfully, he didn’t dare go into the woods.

The woods became her refuge. As soon as she knew Waylon was let loose of his shift at the mines, he would head straight to the Hob. Katniss would pack up her booth and run off into the woods. She began hunting at night to get away from him. Also, she sort of used Gale as an unofficial bodyguard to keep Waylon at a distance. Waylon was a sore spot in her relatively short life span.

“He does?” The words slipped out before they could be stopped.

“He’s got a thing for you Katniss,” Darius’ voice sounded full of mirth, “He’s one of many in the district.”

“If I weren’t in handcuffs, I’d deck you.”

Darius grinned. “He still shoots Peeta the evil eye.”

At the mention of Peeta’s name, her brain misfires.

Peeta.

Sigh, strong, capable, dependable, sweet, kind, lovely, delicious…always lurking in her dreams, Peeta.

That night at the Harvest Fair, every time she saw Waylon come her way she hid. Thankfully Peeta came to her rescue. He asked her to dance and afterwards he escorted her the entire time.

Oh, Peeta tried to keep her out of trouble. He was so nice, and she had no way to pay him for his kindness in rescuing her that night. Even four years later she could still recall every detail. He did admirably despite her lack of social graces, and inability to dance.

Katniss groaned in the transport, her head leaning up against the metal wall. Dancing with Peeta was heavenly, being with Peeta was indescribable, but Katniss shoved that feeling deep, deep, way deep inside of her, locked it up and only took out that memory in the dead of night. When she was alone in her bed, her fingers drifted to her lady parts and she sought relief from the thoughts of what it would be like to kiss him over and over.

She had a secret bond with Peeta, a bond she couldn’t shake. “Peeta,” her heart whispered with longing. Katnis hoped Darius couldn’t see how deeply she was affected by her baker. Peeta was the one soul in the district who knew her better than anyone else.

“So, it’s Peeta you have a thing for. Waylon’s not wrong in giving him the evil eye.”

Katniss scowled at Darius, causing him to laugh.

“I’d have to be drunk on the shine,” Katniss grumbled. She hoped to redirect Darius, he was so near the truth.

“Katniss,” Darius rubs his face. “Please don’t tell me you’ve drunk the shine.”

“No. Gale swears he has. He said it’s so strong it has the power to peel paint off the walls. Is it true…about you and the shine?” Katniss asked.

Darius became serious.

"So, it isn’t true. I knew Gale was lying."

Darius cleared his throat. "It made me hallucinate. There are things, Everdeen, you shouldn’t ever try.”

"Duly noted.”

The transport rolled, and another command came through the radio. Darius “What?”

“Star 451,” the voice answered back.

“Pluck a duck,” Darius whispered angrily. “Are you sure?”

His angry voice sounded out of control as if he wanted to hit something or someone. The atmosphere changed suddenly. It crackled with foreboding darkness. Katniss tried to ignore it, she knew she was in trouble.

For the rest of the journey Katniss wondered what was going on, what did that Star 451 mean? Katniss noted Darius became quiet, and sullen; all the traces of humor left his face. Darius stopped looking at her as if he couldn’t face her. Finally, the transport came to a halt.

“We’re here.”

Katniss winced, thinking of Haymitch Abernathy, and the uncertainty that faced her outside of the transport.

“Wait for me to get down before you get up,” Darius bit out as the door opened and the cold wind caused Katniss to shiver.

Katniss wrinkled her nose. Haymitch was going to be a pain in the neck. The last time she’d been before him things were not pleasant. When she got down, her eyes widened. They weren’t at the Justice building. They were at the Victors Village.

It was one thing to stand in the Justice building, a cold sterile edifice made of white stone. It was another to stand inside of a home. “Darius?”

The transport moved on and there was another waiting, one that did not have any insignia on the side. It was black and it reminded Katniss of the one they used to transport the corpses of the deceased.

“Come on,” Darius said gently, once more avoiding looking at her.

Katniss nodded. She wasn’t someone who let things affect her. She didn’t scare easily, this however, put pure fear in her heart.

Darius escorted her inside of the massive house and guided her into a room by the side. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace. The warmth stung her cold skin. There was a dark wooden desk, two comfortable chairs, and another pair facing the fireplace. “Sit.”

Katniss sat in one of the chairs facing the desk.

“Give me your hands, Katniss,” Darius said.

Katniss lifted her trembling hands.

“What did I tell you ‘bout keeping your nose out of trouble, Sweetheart?” Haymitch grumbled from the door.

Katniss masked her fear.

Four years ago Gale was sick and couldn’t attend that darned Harvest Fair. Katniss needed a way out, thankfully Peeta rescued her.

Everything was splendid and at one point while staring into his gorgeous blue eyes Katniss was breathless. It was toward the end of the night when his mother, the witch, pulled him away and that’s where all hell broke loose. Accidentally, in her haste to get away from Waylon, a small fire started when one of the glass lamps fell, and broke. Several bales of hay caught fire. It somehow escalated and concluded with a goat stampede down the center of town.

Her mother blamed Katniss for embarrassing Waylon and his family, and basically setting the fair on fire. Haymitch told her mother that her unfettered meddling would one day cause the destruction of all she held dear. Eudora Everdeen was not amused, nor was she happy with the outcome. Haymitch let Katniss go with a slap on the wrist because her only criminal act was trying to flee the unwanted attention of a man. Plus, thanks to Peeta’s quick thinking, it was only the stage that burned. He and his brothers managed to get the fire out and they built another stage, how they did it in one day, Katniss didn’t know.

She kept away for the rest of the Harvest Fair, thinking it was better not to remind the community of her stupidity. She’d been lulled under Peeta’s spell. She’d done more than dance and start a fire at that fair. Heat rose from the pit of her belly and flowed to her core and spilled on to her cheeks.

The sound of a chair being scraped on the wood floor caused her bubble to break. Katniss shook her head. Her eyes came back into focus to the present.

“Darius, you can wait outside. Katniss isn’t going to do anything stupid,” Haymitch turned his grey eyes toward her, “are you?”

Katniss shook her head no.

Darius nodded and walked outside, closing the door.

Katniss didn’t even bother rubbing her wrists. She balled her hands and rested them at her side.

“You’re probably wondering why you got caught?”

She hadn’t really. Katniss thought it was just a routine inspection. There were bears in the woods and just one week ago the electric fence had been damaged.

“Your mother.”

“What?” Katniss growled. Her lips thinned her anger skyrocketing. Then she thought for a second it couldn’t be. “She wouldn’t…”

“She did, and there wasn’t anything Darius or I could do. We had to arrest you?”

A combination of bitterness and sadness swept into her soul like the bitter winds that brought the frigid winter air. It was one thing to try to get her to marry; it showed that her mother cared. However, handing her over to the authority showed Katniss that her mother had fallen out of love for her. Can a mother un-love a child? It could happen, she supposed, thinking of Peeta’s mother, the witch. That woman only cared for one person, herself.

“Sorry Sweetheart, Darius tried to dissuade her. She said it was time for you to learn what the real world was all about. But instead of leaving it with me and Darius, she went to the Justice building and filed a complaint with Panem’s Bureau of Justice. She got Seneca Crane’s underwear in a twist. He’s demanding you pay for your crimes.”

Katniss gasped. Seneca Crane was from the old regime. He was the Head Gamemaker of the 74th Hunger Games. His arena was never used. The man was so twisted and evil that he was merciless with those who came under his thumb, and she was one of them. Katniss wondered how someone like him still had power in this new Panem.

There was no doubt in her mind she was going to serve time. Those who served time were often sent away to another District. She could be sentenced to District Eleven to work in the fields, District Two to work in the mines, or work in District Four in the fish processing plants doing the lowest of menial jobs. “How much time will I be sentenced?

“A year Sweetheart, you can get out early for good behavior, come back here and work the rest of your sentence as a parole.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. She’d never been away from home, never was tempted to escape into the wilds of the forest. Now she was going to be carted out in the middle of the night. She was a blemish to society, unwanted, a problem for her mother. A solitary tear rolled down her face.

Katniss didn’t need handcuffs any more; she was about to be branded as undesirable.

Darius quietly walked in with the machine. They slid her hand in the machine and she cried as the skin of her wrist was seared with an imprint. Cradling her hand she read *451. Now she understood.

“I’m sorry Katniss,” Darius whispered.

Two heavy set men dressed in black came in and pushed her inside of the waiting black transport.

Chapter Two

Peeta whistled.

“You’re in a good mood,” Norma Jean, his brother Graham’s wife said.

Norma Jean was his favorite sister in law. Graham had fallen head-over-heels for her. It was funny because before Norma Jean, Graham’s type were tall statuesque thin blondes. Norma Jean was short, and as she put it, rounder than an apple. She was also sweeter than the candy she and Graham sold at the confectioners’ shop.

“I am.” He couldn’t help himself.

Today was Saturday, his favorite day of the week, one because the bakery closed early, and two because Katniss always came by on Saturday to trade with him. No one else. Peeta knew for certain Katniss didn’t trade with anyone else but him.

“Well it’s my favorite day.”

Norma Jean grinned. “Is it because of a certain huntress?”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Hmmm,” Norma Jean said, rubbing her belly, she was heavily pregnant. She was sniffing the air. When pregnant, Norma Jean had the ability to identify different herbs by smell. Her nose was that good.

Peeta kept quiet and wondered how long it would be before she sniffed the cheese buns he had hidden in the back.

“Have you heard from Rye?”

Peeta grinned. “He’s back in District Two.”

Rye was the reason Peeta had inherited the family bakery. With Graham married to Norma Jean, their mother thought Rye would take over the bakery, leaving Peeta out of the inheritance. Then, one-and-a-half years ago Rye announced he wanted to be a Peacekeeper. Nothing their mother said or threatened dissuaded Rye from becoming a Peacekeeper.

“He’s great actually, talked to him last night.”

“Graham’s still upset with him. He didn’t want Rye to sign up to a twenty year commitment to be celibate to serve home and country.”

Peeta recalled. “You know how Rye gets when he wants something.”

“Yeah.” Norma Jean nodded.

“His training is over, and he’s waiting for his assignment. When we were talking at least ten guys came by to say hello.” Peeta had gotten to know the guys in Rye’s squad. They were from all over Panem.

“Good, I am glad.”

“Won’t Graham miss you?”

“Nope, my sister Virginia is helping him set up; the boys were fast asleep.”

“You do realize today is Saturday and they’re up early on Saturday.” Peeta said.

“Exactly, no one bothers the sweet shop at six in the morning, nine maybe, but six…only those who are craving stuff like me…now, hot buns, give me one of those treat’s you’re saving for your huntress,” Norma Jean demanded.

Peeta shook his head. “I would never deny you anything.”

He walked into the back whistling and grabbed two of the cheese buns he’d saved for himself to share with Katniss.

“For you,” Peeta said, bowing slightly.

“I haven’t seen you like this since that Harvest Fair?” Norma Jean raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” Peeta said.

“You can’t lie to me, Peeta,” Norma Jean said, narrowing her eyes, one fist curled around the cheese bun.

“You’re right,” Peeta said.

“So, it is Katniss,” Norma Jean said.

Peeta could feel the heat raising up to his cheeks. He looked at his reflection in the smooth surface of the metal case; he looked ruddy.

After they graduated, Katniss set up her shop in the Hob. Her jerky was a favorite amongst the residents. Katniss had enough coins to buy everything she needed. She could buy bread, but she didn’t. Their friendship began slowly. At first it was a slight nod, with her cheeks so rosy she couldn’t look him in the eyes.

The Harvest Fair changed everything. They’d been a little tipsy as a result of the hard apple cider Greasy Sae offered them. She’d pulled him into Mr. Plover’s blacksmith and horse barn and kissed him. The kiss got out of hand and one thing led to another. Soon they were in one of the empty horse stalls and tearing their clothing off. Katniss had given him her virginity and he had given her his. When they walked out hand in hand Peeta couldn’t help the goofy grin on his face. He would never forget how soft her eyes looked.

Then his mother came looking for him, and everything became a nightmare. Peeta advocated for Katniss, got his brothers and his friends to clean up and rebuild the stage. Katniss was arrested, and the community shunned her. They took Waylon’s side, no thanks to Mrs. Everdeen. Katniss had never attended another social event after that.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Norma said excitedly.

“Well.” His eyes went to the store front. Mrs. Bernelle came into the store. With Thanksgiving tomorrow Peeta expected a brisk business today.

“Hello Mrs. Bernelle,” Peeta greeted.

“Hello Peeta, Norma Jean.”

“Hello,” Norma Jean said, rubbing her stomach.

“You’re due any day now?” Mrs. Burnelle said warmly to Norma Jean.

“ Just about.” Norma Jean smiled warmly.

“How can I help you, Mrs. Burnelle,” Peeta said, wanting Mrs. Burnelle out of the store so that he could speak to Norma Jean.

“May I have a dozen of your dinner rolls, but only the freshest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Peeta said, grabbing a brown paper bag. He quickly dispensed the rolls.”

Mrs. Burnelle smelled the bread, “These smell delicious,” she leaned over and with a mischievous lilt in her voice. “Don’t tell you father, but you are the better baker.”

“I won’t,” Peeta laughed. “Is that all for today?”

“Yes.” She had the exact amount. She put it on the counter. “Thank you Peeta and Happy Thanksgiving.”

Thanksgiving became a national Holiday after the treaty between the Capitol and the Districts was ratified as law. A day for both sides to come together and celebrate everlasting peace and tranquility and celebrated with a big meal. Normally the Capitol sent all of the Districts a parcel with some sort of treat. Each year a District was selected to make a parcel to send to the Capitol. District Twelve had yet to be selected.

“Thank you, you too,” Peeta said. He waited until the door was closed before he turned his attention back to Norma Jean.

“Whatever you have to tell me has got to be really good for you to be acting like you did four years ago?”

Peeta sighed happily.

“Did something happen between you two?”

Norma Jean knew all. Peeta confided in her. When Katniss didn’t show up that Saturday after the Fair, she encouraged him to seek out Katniss. Peeta gathered his courage and found her at the Hob. She looked like hell and she wouldn’t even look at him in the eyes. Peeta found out from Greasy Sae, no one was buying her jerky.

Peeta brazenly bought her jerky and told her he’d run out of squirrels. Then he sent Norma Jean, and Norma sent Rye, and Rye sent Delly to buy her jerky. Delly sent someone else and so forth. There was no way he was going to allow the people of District Twelve to turn their backs on Katniss.

The following Saturday he found a package at his doorstep. Norma Jean packed up some bread and told him to pay her for her game meat. He’d gone down to the Hob and put the bread on her table and told her she’d forgotten her payment before he walked away.

This went on for weeks until she came by and shyly waited to make the exchange. Every Saturday he’d do his best to tamp down his own yearnings because Katniss needed a friend. He made it his mission to befriend her. Like a flower blossoming she opened up to him.

Peeta remained tight lipped.

Mrs. Evangeline walked into the shop.

“Good Morning Mrs. Evangeline,” Peeta greeted, but he could see Norma Jean wanted to shove the nosy woman out of the bakery.

“Hello Peeta,” Mrs. Evangeline said with her list in hand. She nodded at Norma Jean. This morning Mrs. Evangeline was in battle mode. “I am in a rush this morning. I have to get to the butchers before the best cut of meat is taken,” she muttered.

“What can I help you with today?”

“My daughter is coming home with her new husband and I need her favorite bread, a baguette.”

“Oh yes, I remember Rosalee loves the sourdough with Mrs. Caries strawberry preserves.”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Evangeline said. “May I also have a loaf of the sourdough?”

“Absolutely,” Peeta said.

“Thank you Peeta, you always remember everything,” Mrs. Evangeline gushed.

“It’s no problem,” Peeta smiled but he saw Norma Jean’s impatience.

“So, when you are due?” Mrs. Evangeline asked Norma Jean.

“Any day now,” Norma Jean answered.

Peeta bagged the baguettes and the loaf of Sourdough. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Evangeline. “How much?”

“Ten credits,” Peeta said.

Mrs. Evangeline took out her credits and paid Peeta. “Thank you and happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.”

“Thank you, you too.” Peeta waved as Mrs. Evangeline left.

“Finally,” Norma Jean exclaimed.

Peeta shrugged not wanting to give anything away.

“I thought she’d never leave,” Norma Jean huffed.

He feigned innocence.

“Okay hot stuff, what happened? And don’t spare any details. I know Katniss has been coming here every Saturday for the past three years.”

Norma Jean wasn’t wrong. Katniss had been coming to the bakery every Saturday. She’d knock on his door precisely at nine in the morning. They would talk and sometimes she’d linger to drink tea. Recently he began showing her some new recipe he’d been working on.

Peeta grabbed a cleanser and a squeegee and wiped down the counter.

“Uh-uh…none of those diversionary tactics!”

Peeta put his hands in the air.

“Go on, what happened?” Norma Jean fixed with him the mommy glare.

“We kissed,” Peeta whispered.

“What,” she screeched. “When?”

“Last week.”

“Okay, more!”

“Katniss came to the door, we traded, we drank tea. I introduced her to my newest creation. These cheese buns. And I saw that same sparkle in her eyes, as the night of the Fair. I do not exactly know how it happened. But we kissed.” How precisely their lips met Peeta was still fuzzy on that, but he did recall the desire and longing that shot through him like the fireworks that lit the sky at Thanksgiving. Her lips were soft and warm, and he marveled once more at the taste of wild berries, sweet and tart, crisp and delicious.

“Good for you,” Norma Jean said. “Are you guys going to talk today, going to, you know, talk about getting together?”

“I hope so. I’ve waited so long for her to see me, and not just as a friend.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Norma Jean said. Her eyes looked past him above him at the clock, and she groaned, picking up her packages. “I’m late, I have to drop this off at your mother’s house.”

“Good luck,” Peeta grinned.

“Nothing to it,” she rubbed her expanded belly. “Your mother is always rainbows and hearts when I’m pregnant. She keeps on expecting a girl. Sadly, I keep on producing strong Mellark men, much to your father’s delight. He loves his grandchildren. But not as much as your brother loves to keep me fat and round.”

“Norma Jean, you’re not fat,” Peeta replied.

“And that’s why my wife prefers you over me.” Graham came into the shop with his twin boys, one in each arm. Their other child was wrapped around his ankle.

Norma Jean patted Peeta’s hand. “Graham is the grouchy one and Rye is the wild one and you, Peeta are the good Mellark. You’re the hot goods every girl in District Twelve wants to get her grubby hands on, but only one can have.”

“Please don’t call my baby brother hot in front of me,” Graham whined.

Norma Jean grinned wickedly. “Sorry Graham we both know that even Rye with all of his wild ways isn’t as hot as Peeta.”

“Evil woman,” Graham said, handing one of his boys to Peeta.

“Hey buddy!” Peeta grabbed Malcom and tossed him in the air.

“Uncle Peeta,” his twin brother Marvin shouted. “Me, I’m next.”

Martin who was wrapped around Graham’s ankle popped up, “Me too, me too.”

Peeta loved his nephews.

“Boys,” Norma Jean said with that firm mommy voice they listened to.

“Yes mama?” All boys said with rapt attention.

“Your uncle is working. He will wrestle with you tomorrow,” Norma Jean said.

All three boys nodded their pale blue eyes wide with excitement.

“Here’s a cookie for each of you,” Peeta said, taking three plain cookies out. Norma and Graham were careful about the sugar the kids ate. “Why don’t you guys sit at the table and eat the cookies?”

All three of them scampered to the table and sat, eating.

“So if uncle Peeta comes over then maybe mommy and me can…”

“Nope,” Norma Jean said. “Peeta and mommy have serious girl stuff going on.”

“Seriously,” Graham settled his eyes on Peeta. “What the heck? What kind of pull do you have over the ladies?”

“I told you Peeta’s the hot one,” Norma Jean winked. But then placed a playful kiss on Graham’s lips.

Graham stared lovingly into Norma Jean’s eyes then turned to Peeta and playfully growled, “She’s mine, all mine.”

“I know,” Peeta shrugged. “Besides, she’s not my type.”

“I’m not,” Norma Jean said. Then she stood on tiptoe to place a small kiss on Graham’s chin. “If we leave the kids today at grampa’s, maybe we can have a private chat about my candy shop, after we close at noon?”

“Oh,” Graham said, his voice brightening.

Peeta was grossed out by the innuendo.

“Okay, Mellark Clan, march out,” Graham said. “We’re going to grandpa’s.”

The store emptied of his brother’s family, but then the customers came in filling the store for two solid hours. As the time neared 9 o’clock, Peeta started whistling.

Nothing could get him down.

He had the tea prepared, he had cream, and plenty of sugar. Peeta grimaced. How Katniss could drink her tea that way, he didn’t know, but Katniss loved her tea with loads of cream and sugar. He whistled as he wiped down the display cases.

He looked at the clock, 9 o’clock. His gut twisted, anticipating her soft knock. But it didn’t come. He put his cloth away and walked to the back door.

He opened the door looking to see if he could spot her trademark bag or braided hair. He worried something was wrong. Katniss wouldn’t have stayed away. He knew kissing her could have been a mistake and maybe she was regretting the kiss. Peeta shook his head. This was different. Something felt off and he didn’t know what it was. He couldn’t put his finger on it either.

Peeta looked at the clock, she was fifteen minutes late. Katniss was never late; she was alway punctual. He was truly worried, maybe she’d gotten into another argument with her mother over her single status. Mrs. Everdeen was dogged in her search for a husband for Katniss. All of the men Mrs. Everdeen picked for Katniss were strong minded individuals. Men who liked to be in charge. Peeta chuckled, Katniss didn’t need a domineering guy. Anyone with her same fire would cause them both to combust.

These four years Peeta had gotten to know Katniss, and from what he gleaned she needed someone who treated her as equal or someone to balance her fire. Someone who understood the value of partnership. Peeta hoped he was that man for her.

He once more looked at the clock and another five minutes went by. Foreboding crept inside of his being, causing the hairs of his neck to stand on end. The last time he felt that was right before the fire. Something was wrong.

“Where are you, Kat?” Peeta asked. He had half a mind to close the shop and walk to her home in the Seam.

The bell to the front door rang. He sighed then went to the front. Though his mind was made up, he was going to close up shop and head to the Seam as soon as he finished with the patron waiting for him.

“Dad?”

“Son,” his father glanced at him and there was concern in his eyes.

His father hardly came to the bakery now that he had retired. His parents moved to a house just outside the central market. His father enjoyed gardening and canning. He enjoyed his little group of other gardeners. His mother didn’t like the sedate life but she didn’t really have much of a say.

“What’s going on dad?”

“I came to check on you,” his father searched his eyes.

“Dad, you’re acting weird,” Peeta said, frowning.

His father was uneasy, his feet shifted, his hands were buried deep in his pocket, and there was something about the way that his dad looked at him reminded Peeta of the day that his dad sat him down and talked about what it meant to be the third son of a baker. It was one of the hardest conversations they’d ever had. Peeta loved the bakery, loved the smell of yeast, and yes even though he didn’t like the heat, he loved the smell of the hot ovens. There was something immensely enjoyable about seeing the awe and wonder in a customer’s face when he delivered a cake for a special occasion.

He hoped one day to see that same awe and wonder in Katniss’ face, if he could only find her talk to her.

His father cleared his throat.

“What is it dad?” Peeta said, walking to the shop door and flipping the sign from open to close. He closed the door. Peeta squared his shoulders waiting for whatever news his father had for him.

“Son,” his father drifted off. He closed his eyes then said, “…it’s about Katniss…”

“What about Katniss,” Peeta couldn’t believe how calm his voice was. He should have been freaking out. His father knew how important Katniss was to him, though he didn’t know the extent of their friendship.

“She’s been arrested.”

That feeling in his gut that told him Katniss wasn’t okay, caused Peeta’s senses to sharpen. He needed to help her get out of trouble. He stalked to the cash register as if it was his mortal enemy, opening the drawer he took out all of the credits and emptied it into a bag. “I’m going to Darius; what’s her bail?”

“She was caught last night in the middle of the night, with squirrels, poaching.”

Peeta’s heart stopped beating. She’d been hunting for him. At least now he knew Katniss wasn’t running from him. His mind quickly formulated a plan. He walked to the back and put his coat on. As he walked, he talked, “Fine I can talk to Haymitch, tell him why.”

“Son,” his father’s grave voice let Peeta know there was more. His father put his hands on his shoulder. Peeta was still. He didn’t want to know more but he knew he needed to listen. “Her mother.”

“What has she done now?” Peeta didn’t wait; he shook his head. “No, I need to see Haymitch.” Peeta ran out of the back door and speedily ran to the Justice Building. He tore up the stairs taking them two at a time. She’d spent the night in jail.

He didn’t even bother talking to Haymitch’s assistant Anna.

“Mr. Mellark, you can’t go in there,” Anna stood.

Peeta had never been uncourteous to anyone. He was always kind, always aware of other’s feelings. It’s why his mother thought him soft, but he wasn’t really. Not when it came to Katniss. He loved her, and for Katniss he would give up his life.

“Anna,” Peeta growled, and her eyes opened wide as if she’d encountered a feral beast in the meadow.

She stepped to the side.

Peeta barged right through into Haymitch’s office. The last time he’d been here he was eighteen. Desperate to help Katniss. He wasn’t a kid anymore; he was a man, a man who was willing to move heaven and earth for the woman he loved.

Haymitch had a drink on his desk, and an opened bottle. Another was tossed into the waste paper basket. His office smelled of malt whisky and white liquor. Peeta hadn’t seen Haymitch drunk in years. Not since he was fifteen. His eyes swept the room and he noted Haymitch was not alone.

Mrs. Everdeen and her sister Primrose stood in a corner. Mrs. Everdeen looked surprised to see him. Her pale blue eyes were like stones in a river, hard and cold. Her sister Primrose stood away from her mother. Her arms clamped around her middle. Her eyes were red rimmed and her nose was bright red. The rest of her, her face, hands, and legs looked pale, ashen really.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to get here,” Haymitch rasped gruffly.

“Where’s Katniss?” he demanded.

“Boy, sit, have a drink,” Haymitch said, pointing to the two chairs in front of his desk.

“No, where’s Katniss and how much to bail her out?”

Haymitch rubbed his face. “When I took this job on I did it because I knew that the people didn’t trust Cray or any Head Peacekeepers to make the laws just. I set up this position for each district so that they could have one of their own to make decisions on their cases. I specifically set it up with loopholes so that no party could have the ultimate power over the other.”

Haymitch gave Mrs. Everdeen a scathing look.

Mrs. Everdeen lifted her nose. “I only did what was right. She was poaching.” Her voice was filled with indignation, as if she couldn’t understand why she was being reprimanded.

“Eudora, what you did was send an innocent girl into hell because of your stupid pride. You’re no better than the folks that tossed you out into the street when you chose to marry Jack,” Haymitch barked.

Peeta noted how Eudora blinked and her eyes flickered with momentary pain before they went back to that cool indifference. Katniss had a similar look, but unlike Mrs. Everdeen’s which held no personality depth, Katniss’ look always showed a small bit of vulnerability, compassion, fiery resistance and some trace of emotion. Peeta could spend a lifetime examining Katniss’ smallest gestures.

“What happened, Haymitch, where’s Katniss?”

“I don’t see why he should be here,” Eudora said coolly.

“He has every right to be here,” Haymitch said, standing up. “That boy is the one fella your daughter loves.”

Eudora’s eyes widened with shock and she looked at Peeta, really looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. She shook her head, “No, not him, she doesn’t love him. She doesn’t even know him.”

“She does, mama,” Primrose said.

“Katniss was caught poaching for me,” Peeta said quietly. “Every Saturday she comes to my shop and we trade, and talk…” Peeta looked at Haymitch, “Where is she? I need to see her?”

Her mother suddenly looked pale.

“Eudora tipped Darius about Katniss poaching on Fridays late in the evening. I guess she thought Darius wasn’t going to do anything and filed a complaint to Panem’s Bureau of Justice. It got to Crane; that bastard ordered me to hand her over for justice.”

“No,” Peeta roared. He stood up, his eyes landing on Mrs. Everdeen. Prim stood at his side.

“No,” Prim said quietly.

His hands were stretched out resting on Mrs. Everdeen’s neck.

“Boy,” Haymitch ordered.

Mrs. Everdeen’s eyes were wider than saucers. Her body trembled underneath his fingers. There were horror stories about landing in the clutches of Seneca Crane. “Do you realize Katniss can be killed because she was bringing me squirrels.” His voice cracked. Tears stung his eyes. He let go of Mrs. Everdeen and sat in the chair.

“Momma, you’d done wrong.”

“Primrose, I wasn’t going to let her stop you from marrying. I wasn’t going to let her…”

“MOMMA!” Primrose squeaked.

Mrs. Everdeen became quiet.

“If you bothered to get to know Katniss, you would know that she would never stop me from getting married if that’s what I wanted. You would know that all Katniss wants is for me to be happy. Yes, I got mad at her for walking in on me and Vick.” Prim stopped, wiping the tears from her face. “But I know she did it because she loves me and she did not want me to foolishly get pregnant.” Prim squared her shoulders.

Peeta raised an eyebrow; he’d never seen this side to Katniss’ sister. Prim was a sweet girl, innocent, loving and caring. The girl before him had grit and integrity, something she learned from Katniss. Prim leveled a look at her mother before turning to look at Peeta.

“Yesterday she said she knew what it was like to get carried away in the arms of a man that loved you so much it hurt. She knew what it was like to give into pleasure so deep without thought of the future. She told me she didn’t want me to go through the worry of a pregnancy scare.”

Peeta’s hands gripped the arm of the chair he sat in. Katniss thought she was pregnant. He could just imagine her terror. He thought she’d been avoiding him because of the fire; he didn’t know it was because she didn’t know if they’d made a baby together. Katniss was right to be scared. They weren’t ready back then. He had no future and she still had her sister to rear. He looked up to Prim and nodded acknowledging her words.

“You and Katniss,” her mother sounded brittle.

“No Momma, don’t redirect; look at me,” Prim ordered.

Mrs. Everdeen looked at her youngest daughter.

“If you would have taken the time to get to know your eldest daughter, you’d know she sacrificed herself for me. I made her promise me that after I graduated that she would follow her dreams. Katniss promised me,” Prim looked at Peeta. “She’d promised me she’d talk to you, Peeta.”

“I,” Mrs. Everdeen said.

“Katniss helped me, after I graduate, I was going to go to District 3. Dr. Jensen helped me get into an accelerated course in medicine. Everything is set up.” Prim’s voice sounded watery, she had tears running down her face. “Now I can’t go knowing my sister is in the hands of that butcher.”

Mrs. Everdeen flinched.

Peeta stood and gently held Prim in his arms as she cried. “I don’t understand how you could do this to Katniss. I don’t understand how you could betray her when all she’s ever done is to put food on your table and keep a roof over your head. She is the most selfless person. The most loyal. All Katniss has ever done is tried to protect her family, yet you betrayed her.”

“I did it for her own good. I didn’t betray her.” Mrs. Everdeen stood straighter. “This new regime, it may not last forever. There are men like Seneca Crane out there who are vying for power. What if one of them becomes president and then we end up worse? Katniss is a foolish child. I had to do what I thought was best for Katniss, and taking away her ability to hunt was the only way I could think of to get her to think…to see how dangerous this world was.”

“What you did was feed her to the wolves,” Peeta spat. “They called my mother the witch, but you lady, you are a cold hearted bitch.”

Mrs. Everdeen’s eyes became colder. “Primrose we are leaving.”

“No momma,” Prim said, shaking her head. “I’m not going back to that house. I’m gonna to do everything in my power for my sister.”

“How long?” Peeta asked Haymich.

“A year,” Haymitch sighed. He looked tired and drained as he spoke, “Maybe less for good behavior.”

“Where?” Peeta asked.

“District Two.”

Hope bloomed in Peeta’s chest. “My brother is in District 2, maybe he can watch out for Katniss, keep an eye on her, and make sure nothing happens to her.”

“You think Rye would do that?”

“Yeah, he would,” Peeta said. Then he turned to Haymitch and asked, “What happens when… if she gets out for good behavior?”

“If Crane’s people let her go for good behavior, and I doubt it’ll happen, Katniss will be paroled and required to work the rest of her sentence.”

“I want her assigned to me. She can work off the rest of her parole in my bakery. She can live under my roof and I can take care of her.”

“Okay I can do that.” Haymitch sat down at his desk. He pushed the bottle and the glass into the waste paper basket. He took out a form.

“Wait, what’s going on,” Mrs. Everdeen said.

“There’s no way I’m going to give up on Katniss. When she gets out of there she’s going to need a home, a place where she can be safe, and know that she’s wanted and loved.”

“What will your mother say?”

“My mother has no decision in the bakery or how it’s run. The bakery became mine last year when my father and Rye signed it over to me. Believe me, I’m going to make a Katniss campaign and when she comes back everyone in town will welcome her with open arms.”

“Haymitch,” Prim said, stepping out of Peeta’s arms. She sat in the chair facing his desk. “You said Seneca might not let her be released for good behavior. Does that mean he will make sure that she serves out her full sentence?’

“Yes, that rat bastard makes all of his victims pay.” Haymitch set the paperwork aside. His eyes though, were churning as if he was working on a puzzle.

“Then how can we make sure, or what can we do to make certain Crane has to shorten my sister’s sentence?” Prim asked on the edge of her chair.

“What are you thinking about?” Peeta asked, sitting down in the empty chair.

Haymitch opened his drawer and pulled out a slim electronic device. Because District 12 was the outlying district, and it was the poorest one, it dealt mostly with papers. However, there were things that needed to be done with the fancy electronics that the Capitol favored.

Peeta had a computer at the bakery, it was one of the first things he splurged on. It helped him maintain his accounting and supplies. It also was a way for him to get incontact with his brother in District Two.

“This is a computer, and it contains all of the bylaws of Panem. When we set up the justice system, I wanted to make sure there was a catch. Our newly appointed President Paylor helped come up with this. I had forgotten about it until this moment, Prim.”

“What is it?” Prim asked, voicing what Peeta was asking himself.

“Ha!” Haymitch said triumphantly. “There is a clause in the law that stipulates that family members can step in and volunteer for family in case they unjustly fall into the hands of Panem’s Bureau of Justice. Your sister was caught with two squirrels at the time she was caught poaching. Now poaching is a serious offense. But squirrel hunting is completely legal. In fact it just happens to be hunting season for the little critters.”

“So in reality all Katniss did was get caught crossing the fence,” Peeta said.

“And that is a lesser offence than poaching.” Haymitch turned to Primrose. “Which means that her conviction is unjust and a family member can volunteer to work some of her time off here in the district. If someone volunteers, Katniss’ hard labor sentence will be cut in half, but she’ll still have to be paroled.”

“Six months of labor?” Prim whispered, before looking to Haymitch and asking. “Will I be able to finish school?”

“I don’t see why not, we just need someone to take you in for six months for you to work for them for free.”

“No,” Mrs. Everdeen said.

“I’m seventeen Momma, well past the age of consent in Panem,” Prim said.

“I forbade you,” Mrs. Everdeen said, stomping her foot.

“Haymitch, I volunteer for my sister. I volunteer to work off of her debt.”

“YOU CAN’T!”

Prim turned to her mother. “This is all your doing Momma, if you’d let Katniss alone, she’d be with Peeta now talking about the future. Talking to the man she loved about a toasting, children, everything she denied herself for a long time. But you wanted to punish her. You wanted to punish her for looking like Papa, for being his daughter. For always doing the right thing even if it meant going against your archaic wishes. Now you will take the punishment the way I am sure Katniss took hers, with dignity.” Turning to Haymitch Prim said, “Where do I sign?”

Mrs. Everdeen cried, and ran out of the room.

Peeta turned to Prim. “Will she be alright?”

“No,” Prim said. “But Katniss was right; our mother is selfish. I didn’t see it until now. She thinks what she did is justified, that she did the right thing. But she didn’t and now it’s up to us to save Katniss.”

“You’re a lot like her,” Peeta said.

“Thank you, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Prim said.

“I think we need to get my sister-in-law,” Peeta said to Haymitch.

“Norma Jean,” Haymitch said.

My sister-in-law is pregnant with her fourth child. She said she is ready to give birth any time. Anyways, her sister Virginia’s getting married in a month to Jason Swanson, the railroad engineer’s son. Once she gets married, she’s going to work full time there, which means my brother will be alone in the store. They’re going to need help, and I know Norma Jean would never treat you poorly. She’s the only one I trust to help out. My brother Graham will pretty much do anything Norma Jean says.”

“Anne,” Haymitch barked.

Anne walked in, “Yes, Mr. Abernathy?”

“Go have one of Darius’ do-gooders get Peeta’s brother and sister-in-law here,” Haymitch grabbed another piece of paper. “We’re going to save Sweetheart’s butt.”

Peeta sat back, but he knew the battle was far from over. That night he called his brother. His brother was like him, but his features weren’t as soft. His face was angular, and his blonde hair was darker and it was curlier, though you couldn’t tell since he was sporting a buzz cut.

“Hey Peeta,”

“Rye I need…”

“Don’t I know. I heard about Katniss. It’s all everyone is talking about. The girl whose mother betrayed her for you. I’m kind of a celebrity now.”

“You saw her?”

“No, she’s been put deep in the tunnels. The star squad is so deep they don’t surface for months at a time. Communication down there is only done when necessary.”

“Will you keep me apprised if you do see her, take care of her for me?” Peeta asked.

Rye nodded then he said, “Did Graham really say yes to Primrose staying with him?”

“Yeah,” Peeta smiled ruefully. He was tired and he wished he could have done more.

“Huh, was it Norma Jean?”

“No, he volunteered when he heard what happened to Katniss, before I could even ask.”

“Really, I guess he’s not like mom.”

“Nope, if he were like mom he would have married Esme Smith.”

Rye laughed. “I forgot about Esme; man you know she popped my cherry.”

“Rye, really, I don’t need to know your escapades,” Peeta joked but it didn’t reach his eyes. Rye was trying to make him feel better, but it wasn’t working.

“Look Peeta, I know Katniss is your girl, and I promise, in fact all of the guys in my squad, in all of the squads know how special she is, they told me if they’ll take care of her.”

“Except for the guys working under Crane,” Peeta muttered. He closed his eyes. He wanted to punch the wall, wanted to scream.

“Just hang in there, Katniss is strong, she’s tough. For any girl of twelve to brave the forest and hunt animals with the threat of predatory beasts to put food on the table, that takes bigger balls than I have.”

“Thanks Rye,” Peeta whispered.

“I’ve got to go, but maybe the next time tell Graham that what he did for Prim was great.”

“I will.”

The communication went off. Peeta sighed and leaned back. He looked up at the darkened sky just beyond his bedroom window. “Hang in there Katniss. Please hang in there,” he whispered brokenly.

A lot of things could happen in six months. Katniss could be beaten mercilessly. She could be raped by one of the prisoners or even by a sadistic guard. She could catch a disease and die. The fear he’d been fighting threaded through him and for the first time in all of his life he was unsure of the future. Sleep was not an option for him tonight and he couldn’t celebrate Thanksgiving tomorrow. Not with the love of his life in some hellhole beneath the earth.

Getting up, he began to clean and sometime around midnight he decided to make bread for the children tomorrow; that would keep his mind occupied. The next six months were going to be the hardest of his life.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #mega-aulover #submission #prompt

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theaterism · 3 years

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PRELUDE (nathaniel) — the sound collectors

In which the cottage receives many guests, and in which a meeting takes place behind closed doors.

Part 2/? || Part 1

------

With their parents gone, their grandfather had no reason to conduct his business elsewhere.

He’d once sequestered his collection of jars in closets and cabinets and high atop cupboards. Now they rested on shelves and counters and tables as well. Small wooden racks held vials labeled in spidery handwriting. The cottage became a treasury of trapped sounds, with William as the curator.

“Why do people buy them?” Benjamin had asked him once. “Can’t… can’t they just go out and listen?”

“It isn’t enough,” their grandfather had replied. “They want to hold a sound in their hands, possess it. If you can make something possessable, you can make it profitable, as long as you know how to sell it.”

And, the man pointed out, people could only acquire certain sounds from him, many of which had been passed down from their ancestors. The older ones, the stronger ones, the ones from faraway lands.

Some sounds labeled as older or special were fake. William plucked apart the song of a sparrow, stitched it together a different way, and claimed it belonged to a rare bird. The rattle of a famous train was the rattle of wagon wheels, stretched and deepened. Several sounds had extra labels as well. ‘Quickens healing.’ ‘Eases insomnia.’ ‘Reduces stress.’ All lies, of course. Although a persuasive enough lie could carry a seed of truth in it. Self-fulfilling prophecies.

And William could spin a persuasive enough lie to make anyone believe anything. Some sounds were valuable simply because he called them such. Most buyers saw no reason to question his assessment.

“We are the expects in this trade,” William told the brothers. “We are the collectors and appraisers and providers. Purveyors of sounds of the finest quality.” And people throughout history always sought them out, because — according to William — at the core of every person burned an everpresent desire for more.

—

In the past, William had never sold sounds in the cottage. He packed jars and vials into a massive suitcase, nodded a curt goodbye to his son — ignoring his daughter-in-law and grandchildren — and left the house. When he returned days later, satisfaction glinted in his eyes more often than not.

Brianna had sometimes pressed him to explain his whereabouts. He brushed aside her questions. When her husband quietly begged her not to test William’s patience, she listened and dropped the matter, but Nathaniel still saw the distrust in her eyes whenever the old man lugged his bag out the door.

His scruples about selling sounds in the cottage vanished with only the brothers around. The ways he advertised his trade to the proper audience remained a mystery, but on days when he didn’t leave the brothers to take care of themselves, people began arriving to admire and purchase his wares.

William let the boys observe most visitors “to gain knowledge of the trade,” but he ordered them to stay silent unless spoken to, to remain polite, and to never disrupt his business in any way. He never introduced them unless a visitor asked about the boys themself. Even then, he never shared their names.

“They’re my grandchildren,” he said simply. “They’re quite well-mannered. They won’t be a bother.”

The customers typically came alone, sometimes in pairs, and they came in all forms. Nothing marked them as similar aside from their keen interest in sounds and a certain glint in their gaze. Some stood out in Nathaniel’s memory more than others.

One man had the grandest mustache the boys had ever seen. He sought vials containing martial music — drums and bugles mingled with shouts and the stamp of boots on dusty ground. When William left to retrieve paperwork from his office, the visitor stayed in the kitchen. From the hall, the brothers watched in silent awe as smoke from the man’s pipe curled upward and formed into shapes far above their heads. Horse-riders and hounds chased a deer; a rabbit scampered to each corner of the ceiling; a dragon flew in circles and breathed ashen fire.

When the man glanced at the children, he winked.

Two massive mastiffs accompanied a stern-faced woman. They flanked her as she approached the cottage and sat on either side of her chair as she discussed payment. The two cats who lived inside the cottage had vanished upon sighting the dogs through the window. When Nathaniel and Benjamin spied on the peculiar trio around the corner of a wall, the dogs stared at them hungrily, drool dripping onto the floor, until the brothers edged away.

A monocled guest smelled of soil and strong herbal tea. Sweat shone on his forehead; he daubed it with a frayed handkerchief every few minutes. He inquired about animal sounds. “Preferably predators from the jungle.” His briefcase bulged strangely. When he popped it open on the kitchen table, vines sprawled out and unfurled to the floor. Mumbling apologies, he dug through the leaves until he found his wallet. He left with a tiger’s roar and relief on his face.

“Cursed,” William muttered as he counted the bills the man had given him. He had paid too much. William did not chase after him to return the extra money. He tucked it into his pocket and instructed the boys to sweep the dirt from the floor.

“Will the curse mind that it isn’t a proper tiger’s roar?” Nathaniel asked. No tigers roamed the English countryside, and no Cammish had met a tiger and passed down its roar as an heirloom. Nathaniel had watched William stitch that sound together: a meow from one of the cats, twisted and intertwined with other sounds to make it seem more authentic.

William didn’t reply, but Nathaniel saw a smirk tug at one corner of his lips as he walked away.

Twin sisters flounced inside with floaty dresses and iridescent feathers woven into their hair. They chattered incessantly and quarreled about how to spend the money in their sequined purses — their father’s money, Nathaniel caught, something about a birthday gift. He saw William’s jaw clench with irritation. The man’s tension eased when the duo gasped with delight at an assortment of bird calls.

They were famous dancers, William told the brothers later, and they paid handsomely. “Some annoyances are worth tolerating for a profit in the end,” he said. “But if someone crosses you, all deals are off.”

A bespectacled lady offered the brothers cinnamon-flavored sweets. Benjamin flinched away from her hand, as though a spider rested on her palm rather than a wrapped candy. He murmured an apology and shook his head. Nathaniel declined her offer more politely. She frowned and cast a sharp-eyed glance at William, who gave a thin smile in return and informed her the boys were allergic to cinnamon.

There was shockingly little effort put into the lie. Nathaniel could tell it hadn’t eased the woman’s suspicions. Still, she apologized and slipped the candies back into her purse, and she didn’t speak to the brothers again. She left with an old music-box melody that sounded melancholy and dusty.

That night, long after she’d left, the brothers lay awake in their beds. “D’you think she’ll come back?” Benjamin whispered into the darkness.

“No,” Nathaniel replied. His brother had asked a similar question on the day when the mustachioed man had visited, and Nathaniel had given the same answer, which had proven correct. He rolled over on his bed so he faced away from Benjamin.

“She might.”

“She won’t. Be quiet, will you? Go to sleep.”

Benjamin lapsed into silence.

—

The woman didn’t come back.

—

A broad-shouldered man with a bristly grey beard arrived one day, and a saltwater breeze wafted into the cottage with him. A lanky boy strode inside as well. He looked several years older than the brothers, with hair as fair as white beach sand. In a booming foghorn of a voice, the man introduced himself simply as a sea captain. He called the teenager his deckhand. William had obviously only expected the captain’s presence. His nose wrinkled as it usually did around uninvited company and around younger company in general, but he didn’t protest.

The deckhand wandered around the cottage alongside the captain, perusing the jars with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze intrigued. He leaned closer to listen in when the captain sampled certain sounds and offered thoughtful remarks when the man asked for his opinion.

When he spotted the brothers, he flashed them a bright grin. They all knew better than to speak with each other and interrupt the adults’ business.

After the captain had chosen several vials, he sat in the kitchen with William to go over payment. The smoke from his pipe smelled of ocean air and faint mahogany. The deckhand took a chair beside the captain with an air of practiced politeness.

William made an offhand comment about sailing and sensed his mistake in a heartbeat. Immediate regret flickered across his face as the captain beamed broadly, his chest puffing out with pride. He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and— the conversation spiraled into countless seafaring tales.

The deckhand seemed delighted. A grin played across his lips, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. It was as though the captain had handed him an invitation that gave him permission to speak freely. Whenever the captain paused, the deckhand tossed in vibrant comments of his own. He added details to the stories that enthralled Nathaniel and Benjamin, who were still listening from the hall and had settled themselves cross-legged on the floor. He described vicious storms and hidden islands and sea monsters, gesturing vividly as he spoke. His additions jogged the captain’s memory, who continued the stories in his rumbling voice. The tales rambled on and on.

William couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth set in a grim line, waiting for the ordeal to end.

Eventually, the captain’s storytelling faltered. Before the deckhand could prompt him again, William seized the chance to steer the conversation back to the drier subject of money. The deckhand slumped back in his chair with obvious disappointment.

He feigned mild interest at first, but after a few minutes, he pulled a silvery timepiece from his pocket and flicked it open. William spotted this and clearly found it rude, but he pressed his lips together and didn’t express his disapproval aloud. The captain shot the deckhand a sharp glance and growled a low warning. With a pacifying smile and a murmured apology, the boy snapped the timepiece shut and returned it to his pocket. He occupied himself with tracing slow patterns on the table with his finger.

As the adults continued speaking, Nathaniel noticed a lopsided smile slowly spread across the deckhand’s face. Amusement glimmered in his eyes as well, as though he was savoring an unspoken secret. The captain, meanwhile, seemed to have gotten more tense. His face darkened like a storm cloud.

He bought four vials with ocean waves and seagull cries, and one vial with ballet music. William led the duo to the door. Nathaniel caught the boy swiftly tucking the timepiece back into his pocket when the adults weren’t looking, as though he’d needed to check the time one last time before they left.

At the door, he addressed William directly. Curiosity shone on his face, and the words spilled out like he’d stifled them far too long. “Ah, sorry, I’ve— d’you mind if I ask one question before we go?”

William made no effort to hide his reluctance. His gaze flicked to the captain, who shrugged, more focused on lighting his pipe again. William folded his arms over his chest and gave the boy a begrudging nod. “Something about the sounds, I suppose?”

“It isn’t, actually, but I was hoping you might still have an answer.” The deckhand took a breath. When he went on, his voice had hushed like he was sharing a secret. Thrill laced his words. “There’s a place near here where time’s stretched in on itself. It’s out past the fields, that way—” He pointed toward the kitchen window overlooking the garden, toward the trees in the distance, and Nathaniel’s heart skipped a beat. “I felt it all the way from here, right when we arrived. And I was wondering if you knew what that’s about. Because as far as I know, it’s got to mean—”

“You’re imagining things,” William interrupted.

The deckhand’s smile faltered. “Imagining…?”

“There’s nothing out there. Just grass, trees, a river. Nothing more than what you’d find on a map.” The man’s tone was blunt, harsh. “So if you feel anything peculiar, you’re imagining it.” His cold gaze slid to the captain. “A bit young to be handling time, isn’t he? He seems to have a rather poor grasp on it.”

Blotchy red stained the deckhand’s cheeks. He looked wounded, like William had slapped him.

He opened his mouth, but the captain beat him to replying, his voice as deep and rumbling as ever. “An expert on time as well as sound, are you?” Wisps of smoke trailed his words. His calloused hand grasped the deckhand’s shoulder. “If not, it isn’t your place to say such things, nor is it mine. You can’t judge a sailor if you’ve never set foot on his ship. I’ve no idea whether time’s odd out there. If you insist on my opinion, though, I’d say the lad’s got a fine grasp on time. Too fine, even. So, maybe he’s right.”

William glared at the captain, his face crimson, his words low and jagged. “There is nothing out there.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not.” Amusement glinted in the captain’s eyes. “I’m no expert on sounds, so I can’t say much. But I thought you’d be better at listening.”

William’s lips parted, but no words escaped.

The captain let the silence stretch for a second, then exhaled. “Right, so, we’ll be off now.” He nudged the deckhand out the door. “Thank you for the sounds.”

The old man scowled at their backs, but the retort Nathaniel expected from him never came. Instead, he turned and retreated into the cottage. The brothers stayed at the door to watch the duo go.

It felt as though they had stayed for hours, yet it was still curiously light outside. As they walked away, the captain cuffed the deckhand lightly on the back of his head and growled something. Nathaniel missed what the man said or whether the deckhand replied, but the boy soon turned and gave the brothers a wave of goodbye. The flush had faded from his face, his expression cheerful again. Benjamin waved back hesitantly. Nathaniel only stared, his brow creased, which seemed to widen the deckhand’s grin.

Benjamin’s voice broke the silence again that night. “The collectors from today, d’you think they’ll—”

“No.”

—

The peculiar duo never visited again.

—

There were, of course, some meetings William did not permit the boys to eavesdrop on. Meetings that took place in his office rather than in the kitchen.

One day, he informed them an important visitor would arrive that afternoon. He told them not to ask the guest questions. He told them to ignore any questions the guest asked them. After a moment’s consideration, he told them not to speak to the guest at all. Though baffled, the children didn’t protest. They knew the ‘don’t speak unless spoken to’ rule by heart; William had merely removed the ‘unless spoken to’ condition. It seemed simple enough.

Yet he spoke with the utmost seriousness.

Hours later, there came a light knocking at the door. William visibly stiffened before answering it. The visitor had arrived. He was dressed in a sleek tan suit. His dress shoes gleamed, seeming freshly polished.

When he spotted the boys seated in the kitchen, he glanced at William curiously. “Grandchildren?”

William’s mouth twisted like he’d tasted something sour, but he didn’t dodge the question. “Yes.”

“I didn’t know you had grandchildren,” hummed the man, a smile lingering along the edges of his lips. His voice was smooth and silken. It rippled like snake scales. “I only knew about your son and Brianna. How did you keep such a delightful secret tucked away?”

“Carefully,” said William.

“Why?” prodded the visitor, and something in his amiable voice made Nathaniel suspect he already knew the answer. Nathaniel himself couldn’t puzzle it out. He’d gotten lost in the adults’ words, a foggy maze of half-truths. Across the table, Benjamin’s confused expression suggested he felt the same.

“They aren’t involved.”

William’s replies were even blunter than usual, flat and curt. There was an unfamiliar tone in his voice as well. Nathaniel couldn’t place it.

The visitor identified it for him, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “Protective, are you? How curious.” He’d been staring at the boys as though studying a pair of books he was eager to read, but he cast a smile at William. “Or is it possessive? That would suit you much better. The line is so fine, isn’t it?”

Nathaniel held his breath, waiting for William to snap or misdirect. But the old man said nothing.

The silence stretched for a few seconds. Something tense and electric had seeped into the air within the cottage. It sent a shiver down Nathaniel’s spine.

At last, the guest went on, continuing the previous topic smoothly. “If you think I don’t know the pattern of your magic by now, you’re sorely mistaken. They inherited the capacity for it, yes? And you’d never let that potential go to waste. You’ll coax their magic into growing into the shape that suits you.”

Magic is a growing thing, their mother had once said. It’s best to nurture it and maybe to shape it gently, but to let it bloom naturally in the end. If you ignore it and leave it to grow wild, or if you try to prune it too much, it could die, or turn on you.

Nathaniel stifled the memory.

“So they will be involved, someday,” the visitor continued. “At least one of them.”

Nathaniel could’ve sworn the man’s gaze skimmed over Benjamin to focus on him. His heart skipped a beat. He found he couldn’t look away from the visitor. The man hummed curiously. “Tell me,” he began, addressing the boys with a friendly tone. “Do you—”

William’s harsh voice broke through his words. “Don’t. I’d rather you didn’t waste time on this nonsense. We have business to discuss.” Without another word, he disappeared down the hall.

A soft chuckle left the stranger. He followed William toward his office. Ignoring a whispered warning from Benjamin, Nathaniel slid from his chair and moved to continue watching from around a corner. William was nowhere in sight, likely already in his study. The man had paused in the study’s doorway. Nathaniel’s breath caught as the visitor withdrew a slender switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open, but he only pressed the silver blade to one fingertip.

“What are you doing?” came William’s impatient voice from inside the office.

“Precaution.”

A scoff. “They’re children.”

“They’re children of the Cammish variety. Words simply cling to your lot, you know. I thought you’d appreciate it, since you’d rather we didn’t involve them yet.” He flicked the blade shut, returned it to his pocket, and stared at his finger as dark red welled from the nick. “It’s fascinating, really,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

The visitor traced a symbol in crimson on the doorframe. Within moments, the marking sank into the wood and vanished. The man gave Nathaniel a sidelong smile before stepping into the office.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Usually, Nathaniel could hear muffled voices behind the door during meetings like this. If he strained his hearing, he could sometimes discern a few words. Sometimes entire fragments of speech reached him.

Now, even when he risked pressing his ear to the door, he heard nothing. Only silence and the strangely quick rhythm of his pulse in his ears.

The wood smelled like smoke.

—

The man left after the meeting. It was an uneventful departure. He simply offered a final fleeting smile — aimed at the brothers, not at William — and strolled away from their porch, his briefcase in one hand. William made no further comment about him to the boys, and they knew better than to press for details.

Benjamin didn’t speak that night.

Nathaniel held his breath, waiting for his brother’s voice, waiting for the familiar question. But it never arrived. So Nathaniel broke the silence himself.

“I think he’ll come back. The one from today.”

—

And he did.

#|☆| stories #|☽| nathaniel ( businessman )#(!!! hi it’s been MONTHS and i finally finished the second part of this drabble)#(originally this part was going to focus more on the brothers)#(but i NEEDED to write abt the sound collectors so i shifted the part featuring nathaniel and benjamin to be the next portion!)#(i’m not entirely satisfied with this but i don’t want to look at it anymore agdgd)#(there’s a guest appearance but i can’t tag it bc Spoilers)

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Amphibia Weekly Reviews: Bessie and Mircroangelo/The Third Temple “The Things We’ve Set into Motion Cannot Be Stopped”

Hello all you happy people. It’s been a long road, with an even longer road trip, but the season’s almost over: just two more weeks of Amphibia.. and with all the build up weighing down on our heroes two things are clear: this cannot end well for Anne or anyone involved, and this is going to hurt. It’s going to hurt a LOT. it’s going to be some...

... how have I not used more MST3K gifs. Questions for later. Point is with emotional pain immient, a revolution on the way this episode only ratchets up the tension.. while also sparing some time for makeover jokes and a breather episode about snail mentorships, fashion montages and giant crabs. I do love me some giant crabs. And i’ll tell you allllll about it under the cut.

Bessie and MicroAngelo:

This episode finds our heroes preparing for the third and final temple, loading up the wagon and preparing weapons, maps, potions, all that good stuff.

We end up getting two plots out of this. The first is the titular one: so Polly can help prepare, Hop Pop gives Bessie the task of watchin gher snail and certified cutie MicroAngelo, that tiny Snail who I assumed would disappear forever after his intitial apperance because that’s usually what cartoons does. But much like One Piece, Al Ewing and that owl what watches me while I sleeps, Amphibia never forgets.

It’s some Looney Tunes style shenanigans.. not the bugs or daffy, more on him later today, kind more the “Bigger more responsible party protects the smaller more vunerable or reckless one” kind you’d see eveyr so often. Tom and Jerry also really loved this. And Amphibia wears it well, with some good gags and really cute bonding and some really excellent animation on Bessie, giving the old girl plenty of life and animation. The only part I genuinely do not like is Hop Pop blaming Bessie for.. running after micro angelo afte rhe ran off. Aka doing the job you assigned her.

Someone i’m looking at. Regardless otherwise it’s just some fun, adorable slapstick with a downright precious ending. And hop pop DOES apologize.. and wish he was a cute snail. I do not have time to unpack all the implications there nor ponder what Hop Pop would look like in a snail costume. This week’s given my brain enough nightmares.

So anyway, our subplot has Marcy trying to give Anne a Makeover... and her past attempts with Sasha have been objectively horrifying so Anne is rightly scared, though the armorer who comes to help with it has a blue crab so tha’ts where all my attention. I fucking love crabs.. they just look so neat. Some see the fact a spider crab being out and about in animal crossing as horrifying. I see it as oh look at my cool terrifying crab friend. About the only crab I don’t like is this asshole.

And even then he can be VERY funny. .he’s just also an exploitative douchebag and having worked in food service, let me tell you I.. I get why Squidward is the way he is. That said Krabbyland is a masterpiece entirely because he’s such a terrible person, so it ballances out when the show’s doing it’s best.

Point is I like crabs and I like this subplot.. though mostly because it says a LOT about who Anne and Marcy are and where there at. Part of why Marcy is so gung ho about helping Anne is she figures this is her last shot to be whoever she wants to be. But really she’s just projecting: it’s been obvious since we properly met her that Marcy.. likes living HERE more than earth. On earth she’s an outcast: her hyperfixations, her tendency to babble about things she likes, her smartness... alll things that just make people turn away from her or pick on her on earth, with only two people relaly understanding and appricating her.. maybe more but we don’t know the situation with her parents yet. As someone who is a lot of those things, I get where she’s coming from.

So ending up in a world straight out of an rpg... she florished. Everything that made her life difficult at home suddenly made her florish: her skill with RPG’s meant she could blend in easily with the courtly high class of Newtopia, gave her a love of taking on missions, and allowed her to put her hyperfixation, knowledge and enthusasim to real world use, creating massive improvments in an already ritzy city. Everything that made her an outcast in our world made her a hero there. It’s why I worry about what’s to come: to both Grime and Andrias.. she’s the perfectly made pawn: too desperate to have Sasha back to see the kinfe he wants her to plant in Marcy’s, and too happy to be accepted to see the rpg convention, the benevolent ruler turning out ot be a puppet for the big bad, starring her in the face. Amphibia’s given her her freedom.. but it’s also left her very vunerable and may leave her alone.

As for Anne.. she realizes how far she’s come: from selfish and kind of distructive to selfless and self reliant.. and still kind of destructive but hey, you can’t cahnge eveyrthing about yourself. It’s why when given heavy armor.. all she needs is the core of it.. something simple to guard her but nothing too complex. She’s fine with who she is.. and it’s why she’s in the best place of the three girls. And why she’s left smack in the middle of the war to come. A war she can’t stop and that will leave her having to choose one... or do the right , hard thing and choose neither and try and free them from the bad influences they’ve embded themselves in. Either way this is going to hurt both her and the audience.

Final Thoughts: Bessie and Mircoangelo is good classic cartoon fun with a suprisingly deep subplot. Simple, but a nice pallete clensar, especially since the next episode is pretty tense and given it’s ending and eveyrthing that’s been building this season, it’s likely only going to get worse from here, so it’s nice to have a quick and breezy break before hell comes to frogtown.

The Third Temple:

Before we get to the final temple we get a flashback showing how Sasha met Anne and Marcy. The other two were playing on the swings when two big dillholes pushed them off and Sasha selflessly and fearlessly stood up to them. And promptly beat herself up more than the bullies who dodged her and eventually got so freaked out by whatever the hell this was they ran and a friendship was born. But noticably she’s a lot diffrent 7 years ago, aproximately, than she is at 13: she’s every bit as fearless and willfull.. but the compassion she once had got buried under a need for control. It’s easy to see now WHY Marcy and Anne loved her so much: she was their friend, their protector, she cared about them.. and while she never STOPPED somewhere along the way it became less about doing the right thing for the women she loves and more about getting her way.

And now the two have had time to heal from what their friend girlfriend became.. it’s time to rip that wound wide open as finally, after almost a season of waiting, Sasha reunites with Marcy for the first time and Anne for the second.

Naturally her return is in time for her gem to be charged, though our heroes unware of that didn’t seek her out before going in. This time Frobo’s riding claw though weirdly dosen’t come inside. Which is a problem with Frobo’s addition to the cast as the whole: they’ve kept him out of any episode since his induction into the family and only properly explained it once. It just dosen’t make a lot of sense to me; Yes he is massively powerful but his childlike thought process counters that. He’s easy enough to write in but is left out becasue the writers don’t want to deal with an extra character. And I had more than enough of that shit when watching Ducktales. I don’t need it when your main cast isn’t NEARLY as large or hard to juggle. It’s just galling to have spent an entire season showing he was following them, give him a whole episode.. and then just forget about him because i’ts convient. Hopefully he’ll play a bigger role as things progress and we find out where he came from because his misuse is a dark spot on an otherwise great second half of the season.

Frobo does get to prove himself useful though and open s the temple door he just weirdly dosen’t come along. But this does leave the door open for Sasha to come in as our heroes struggle with the first puzzle: Turns out this dungeon was built by a bro, seriously the temple languge is very broey and VERY hilarious contrasted with how normal for a fantasy setting the others were, as is fitting the strength gem, so our heroes have to compete feats of strength. Unfortunately this does not mean wrestling the ghost of Jerry Stiller to the ground but instead fighting some Lava Worms, and fighting just ONE of them and lifting the provided warhammers is a challenge for Anne.. and she’s the only one who can with Marcy not having enough upper body stregnth and the plantars all de-hydrated spongebob style.

So naturally Sasha ends up being their savor, easily dispatching them and getting some help from grime who while also dehydrated, is still phsycially strong enough to be of some help. Marcy is overjoyed to see her.. and is the only one. Given Marcy hasn’t been on the wrong end of Sasha and Grime like they have, it’s understandable: while Marcy’s grappled with Sasha’s actions and grip on her and Anne, it’s been clear it hasn’t hit her as hard as it has for Anne and she likely dosen’t get the full scope of it like Anne does. To her Sasha just made a mistake and she’s back now and tha’ts what matters. To Anne and the Plantars... sasha and grime tried to kill them and Sasha then tried commiting suciide to save them. The scars of that haven’t really healed for them, nor should they.

And given Sasha has spent the season clearly blamiing everything on Anne defying her and has been raising an army based on her resentment, and given she flew into a jealous blinding rage at finding her exes were fine and dandy without her she.. wholheartdly apologizes.

Yeah she apologizes.. but tellingly while she talks about her and Grime being left homeless following the battle.. she leaves out everything after: The fight with Yuan, the growing rebellion, driving her friends away, the horrifying army Grime now commands. Something’s off.

Anne naturally dosen’t trust her to do this herself and insists on coming along sitll. The next task is juts.. asking how much you lift bro, which Sasha easily passes by lifting, bro.

The final test in Jim Crunch’s Temple of Fitness, I mean who else could’ve wrote this, is of course a big fight with a giant statue of a toad, fitting how each temple so far was built by one of the civlizations: there were frog statues and symbols in the first temple, the second was guarded by a newt and the last now has a toad guard.Though curiously.. the test itself is wholly designed for a human. Before it wasn’t 100% clear even with the hyroglyps if the chosen ones had to be human or not.. but now it’s impossible to argue otherwise. There were hints : The fact the guardian pegged her as a possible chosen one on sight , the ruins in the background of the title cards which also depict the watcher with a thousand eyes (which is what i’ll be calling him till we get his, her , they or it’s actually name. ).. but here the chamber includes a gravity increase dbz style, meaning our heroines are the only ones who can stand as the Plantars and Grimes frog and toad bodies respectively aren’t strong enough to stand anymore. And while Marcy tries it ends up falling on Anne and Sasha with Sasha being Angry Anne doesn’t trust her.. and Anne not refuting it, pointing out she has EVERY REASON not to. As she puts it “it’s not just toad tower”. For most of their lives Sasha has been controlling, caring about what she wants and not what the people she loves wants. It wasn’t just the fight there... it was simply the wakeup call to how bad a person Sasha had been.

And for the first time in the episode.. Sasha is geniune, apologizing for what she did, and genuinely admitting how she treated Anne wasn’t wrong. it was something she coudln’t admit to herself episodes ago.. but faced with both loosing two more people due to her behavior, and having plenty of time to reflect on said behavhior.. she finally relaizes it’s her. Fuck man.. what else is there to say.

Oh right the giant monster thing, which Anne trusts Sasha to finish.. and we get anothe rDBZ homage as Sasha removes part of her armor, which creates a CRATER, which lowers her weight enough to fight the thing. She gets a thumbs up and the honor of recharging it.

Anne suggests opening the box.. but Marcy is VERY quick to shoot that down and suggest talking to the king. And while her reason SOUNDS good,, they don’t want to get warped somewhere ELSE at random.. it’s very clear from her actions and how quick she tried to stop it that she needs them to get to Andrias for whatever he’s talked her into. And I emphasis talked her into: Marcy trusts the king, and was in a very emotional place when he was about to talk to her at the end of season 2a... and he knew it. He knew she was at her most vunerable, most malable and trusted him completely.. and knew right then and there was his shot at getting vengance.. for him and his master. Whatever he has planned.. it’s not good. The mechancial lovecraftian horror he keeps in his creepy basement full of lost souls is a dead giveaway from that. But I don’t.. fault Marcy for it. It’s not just because I sympahtize.. to her Andrias is a good noble king trying to help her. He’s the kindly mentor she always wanted, a person who enjoys her skills dosen’t care how much she talks and has complete faith in her, something even Anne struggles with.

But it’s VERY clear, to me at least he’s been likely using her from the moment they met: to her sh’es just an optomistic pawn, someone gullible enough to do whatever he says. I’ve always felt that her “missions” probably had some darker purpose she wasn’t aware of: getting Andrias things he needs for his army, an army she has no idea is opressing people. She’s insulated from that and instead surronded by adoring people who accept her for once. Even going to wartwood, she hasn’t yet made the connection between the toad towers and what their purpose is. I think deep down she might suspect this stuff.. but she can’t ACCEPT that the one person who every had nothing but faith in her.. is a horrible person who opresses others and somehow has even WORSE plans in store.

Sasha likewise is facing the pressure of her parental figure.. while her patching it up with Anne was legitmate... her and Grime’s own plans rely on getting in there and Grime simply sees the other two as pawns , and just like the king he wants he wants to overthrow, their use expires once his plans in motion.

But the thing is.. it’s clear despite assuring Grime she’s still all in.. her face in the last shot, as seen above.. says otherwise. Her apology was legitmate, not just an attempt to get close to the one thing in her way of power, but what she’s come to realize: she’s gone from blaming Anne for it.. to realizing it was her. But she’s also stuck: while Marcy is unaware of the strings her pupeteer is pulling her towards.. Sasha is all too aware of what her mentor is planning. And the thing was she was all too willing to go for it. She blamed Anne for what happened at the tower, blamed Anne for turning marcy against her and blamed the plantars and co for turning anne against her. But in the harsh light of day... none of that’s true. Marcy dosen’t hate her, neither does anne, they didn’t turn against her.. they were just tired of her shitty behavior and wanted the friend they found that day on the playground back, the woman they loved who’d go to hell and back for someone and not the bitter, manipultive person she became. She’s once again realized it was her fault.. the question is if that’s enough for her to do the right thing or not. And the hardest question of all is IF not reblling isn’t the right thing. Wfhile the Toad’s probably shoudln’t be in charge either, Andrias REALLY shouldn’t. There’s NO easy answers here, no happy outcome that makes everyone live’s better. There’s no easy way out, no shortcut home.. just the louder and louder drumbeats of war and one girl’s decision of whose side she’s going to take.

Final Thoughts on the Third Temple: As with the other four sasha episodes thus far, this was frogging brilliant. Shoudln’t be a suprise and it makes me both look forward and dread the war to come

Next Week: The plantars try to bury the hatchet with Sasha and Grime, the girls enter a battle of the bands, and the finale comes ever closer.

If you liked this review follow me for more, and join my patreon. At just 2 dollars a month you get acess to my discord, exclusive reviews, and get me closer to my stretch goals. See you at the next rainbow

#amphibia #the third temple #bessie and microangelo #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #bessie amphibia #microangelo #hopidiah plantar #sprig plantar #polly plantar #bro

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autolovecraft · 11 months

Text

Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch.

Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate. Birch, just as I thought! He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago.

Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily? And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. Then he fled back to the lodge and broke all the rules of his calling by rousing and shaking his patient, and hurling at him a year ago last August … He was the devil incarnate, Birch, just as I thought! He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might. There was evidently, however, no pursuer; for he was alone and alive when Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four.

Sawyer in their last illnesses. Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he vaguely wished it would stop. On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. He could not walk, it appeared, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door.

To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the way in his quest for the Fenner casket.

At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon. The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to compute how he might most stably use the eight to rear a scalable platform four deep. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face.

Birch. The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the right grave. Being without superstition, he did not care to imagine. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. Clutching the edges of the aperture. He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? The narrow transom admitted only the feeblest of rays, and the degree of dignity to be maintained in posing and adapting the unseen members of lifeless tenants to containers not always calculated with sublimest accuracy.

In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant.

Better still, though, he would utilize only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude.

He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before. The wounds—for both ankles were frightfully lacerated about the Achilles' tendons—seemed to puzzle the old physician greatly, and finally almost to frighten him. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not heed the day at all; though ever afterward he refused to do anything of importance on that fateful sixth day of the week. Birch, though dreading the bother of removal and interment, began his task of transference one disagreeable April morning, but ceased before noon because of a heavy rain that seemed to irritate his horse, after having laid but one mortal tenant to its permanent rest. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course.

I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here.

What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin! Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit.

It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. He could, he was sure, get out by midnight—though it is characteristic of him that this thought was untinged with eerie implications. Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door. Davis.

The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles! He could, he was sure, get out by midnight—though it is characteristic of him that this thought was untinged with eerie implications. As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood. This arrangement could be ascended with a minimum of awkwardness, and would furnish the desired height. He was oddly anxious to know if Birch were sure—absolutely sure—of the identity of that top coffin of the pile; how he had been certain of it as the Fenner coffin in the dusk, and how he stepped on the puppy that snapped at him a succession of shuddering whispers that seared into the bewildered ears like the hissing of vitriol. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you got what you deserved.

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lilxberry · 4 years

Text

Can’t Quite Quit You - Chapter 1

Synopsis;

It appears that Mr Stark once had a Mrs Stark in his life that certainly wasn’t his mother. Tony and reader must work around their rocky path for the sake of the Avengers and the work the must focus on together once again.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of past relationship. That’s about it for this Chapter.

Words: 2,840

Pairing: Tony Stark x OC (past), James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes x OC (platonic)

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(A/N: This is a separate series I will be working on. There will be confusing changes to the characters, original plots and relationships between people. For example;

Tony stark will have been previously married to OC

Morgan will be in existence at the age of 5 in this for a plot that will happen in future chapters

I have set direct ages for some characters like Tony and Rhodey which will respectively be 45 and 46

Tony and Rhodey will have met before they canonly met

Any further changes to things that I feel will need to be discussed, I’ll add them before the chapter begins in an authors note.)

(A/N 2: I will foreseeably not be posting on Thursdays and Fridays. I WILL continue to write during those days though ((if I do not have college work to complete during those nights)) and post them any other days of the week. Also, Chapter three of The Glitch should be up Saturday. Read chapter 2 here.)

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She took one last look around her home that was now vacant and clear of all her belonging, dark from the late hours of the night. Chloe sighed through her nose softly and lugged the last box in her arms through the threshold, closing and locking the door behind her, posting the key through the letterbox then proceeding to head to her car.

One Nick Fury had requested her scientific knowledge to be put to use helping the Avengers. It took a lot of persuasion on Fury’s and Rhodey’s part. Rhodey and Chloe are practically life-long friends with how close they once were, knowing each other for many years, still regularly keeping in touch. So, when Fury approached him about about recruiting her to the more scientific and engineering department of the Avengers, he had contacted her immediately in the hopes of convincing you to take up his offer.

She was renowned in her work as a scientist and robotic engineer, although, no one would truly know it’s her. She gave herself an alias, disliking the attention and wanting the focus to be purely on her work.

Usually, Chloe wouldn’t need to be sweet talked into such an amazing opportunity but certain circumstances with a certain someone had left a bitter after-taste in her mouth and, if you hadn’t picked up on this yet, that certain someone is, let’s just say, closely involved with the Avengers.

We’ll get on to whom she refers to later.

Placing the last box into her Vauxhall Wagon, she climbed into the drivers seat and began her journey to compound, leaving behind her comfortable and solitary life where she focused solely on living and work. As she drove down the desolate dirt road, her eyes drifted to the rear view mirror, noting the stand alone house surrounded by fields upon fields, slowly fade away as she put distance between it and herself.

Her mind wandered as she travelled, wandering into crevasses she wished would not be explored, memories she thought she had locked away behind barriers and chains well enough.

Chloe thought of him, what his reaction will be when he sees her for the first time in 13 years. If he’s changed, if he thinks she’s changed which admittedly, she had.

She knew what he looked like recently, of course she did, he was all over the fucking news. She couldn’t even open up Google on her laptop without his bloody face showing up but she hadn’t the slightest clue on what was going on in his life apart from being one of Earths mightiest heroes and quite frankly, she didn’t want to know either.

As she pulled up to a red light, she leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes as she exhaled loudly. A million scenarios passed through her head at how the interaction could play out. She knew things would be fine though, Rhodey would be by her side, a comforting presence helping her through the ordeal.

Her eyes were open once more as she watched the lights change. She turned her radio on, hopeful the loud 80′s rock blaring from the speakers would drown her thought out, remotely giving her a peaceful 10 hour drive.

“Fuck. Me.”

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After a gruelling 11 hours and 45 minutes drive, the compound came into view as she passed the trees surrounding the large, sleek building. Chloe noticed the many people training on the grounds, making the assumption that they were employees of S.H.I.E.L.D., agents training to maintain their fit-for-field-work physique.

As she closed in on the compound, she noticed three figures standing near the entrance. As her eyes adjusted, she was able to recognise Director Fury, whom she had seen through her laptop screen when they first made contact, and Captain America himself stood beside a woman she did not recognise.

Her car slowed to a stop, becoming still then silent as she killed the engine. She huffed out a breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, swinging her legs out first, happy to finally stretched her legs and exit the vehicle finally.

She breathed in a the fresh air as she stoop up, momentarily closing her eyes to give them a well deserved break, adding moisture back into her green orbs. She quickly recomposed herself and closed her door, rounding the car and taking a few small paces forwards to meet the trio.

“Doctor Miller. I’m glad you took me up on my offer.” Fury extended his arm towards the woman for a handshake which she shook with firmly with confidence. As he retracted his hand for hers and began to gesture to the two beside him. “This is Agent Maria Hill and I assume that you already know who this man is.” He gestured over towards the fellow brunette and the Nations favourite super soldier who both gave the woman a friendly smile.

“You assumed correctly.” She mused as she thrust her right hand towards each other them to shake as her left slides into her front pocket of her jeans. “It’s good to meet you both.”

Steve was the next to speak. “It’s good to meet you, too. A few of us have been informed of your work and I believe you’ll be a great addition to the team, working in the labs.” He sent you a charming smile. “I think you’ll fit in nicely with the others.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Chloe sent him a smile back. They noted the lack of shyness, she exudes confidence and is clearly prideful of the work she has put out into the world.

“We should introduce you to the rest of the team in the living area.” Maria speaks up, catching the attention of the other three. They nodded simultaneously in agreement. “If you hand me the keys to your car, we can collect your stuff and take them on to your floor. We’ll move your car into the a secluded area for safe keeping as well.”

Chloe nodded but spoke before handing her keys over. “Let me just quickly grab something and we can get moving, I guess.” Maria gave a curt nod of her head and Chloe walked back towards the Vauxhall.

She opened up the front passengers side door and reached in to retrieve a box off of the passengers seat and her back pack from floor in front. Satisfied she’s grabbed everything of real personal value, she straightens herself out, closes the door with her hip and makes her way back over to the trio who was patiently waiting by the entrance.

She swiftly handed her keys over to the agent of three before following Fury and Steve through the doors and towards an elevator at one end of the large space.

“Would you like any help with that bo-”

“NO!” She cuts the captain off quickly, emphasising loudly. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Uhm, no, thank you. Sorry, the stuff in here is really important to me and I’d rather not put it into the large hands of a stranger, no offence.” She smiles up at the man bashfully. He smiles at her apologetically in return.

“No worries, sorry.”

As the elevator finally arrived, they stepped inside and rode up to the main communal floor all the Avengers use. The ride was relatively silent, until Fury spoke up. “Rhodes has been quite excited to see you, you know.”

She smiled at the mention of her friend. “I’ve been pretty excited to see him too. Not seeing him in person for 12 years is a pretty long time.” She chuckled at the thought.

Steve smiled as he watched the woman speak kind words about her friend, voicing how, after all this time, she would seemingly still be excited to see an old friend.

They fell back into a comfortable silence, listening to the hum of the elevator as it works to ascend pass multiple floors. A simple ‘Ding’ cut through the silent machinery and soon after the metallic doors slid open, reveal the mixed group of people as they turned their attention to the three now steeping out.

The silence was daunting as the team watched them walk towards them. The silence was soon broken once again as Rhodey pushed passed the few stood in his way, a massive smile had broken on to his face. “Hey there, Pip.”

She grinned at the use of her childhood nickname. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite Lieutenant Colonel.” She sent him a playful wink as she placed her back pack and box gently on to the ground before surging forward, engulfing the man in a long awaited hug.

He immediately responded by wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders, closing his eyes to bask in the loving moment between friends for as long as time would allow him. “You’ve grown.” She mumbled.

“You’ve shrunk, short ass.” She pinched his back through his shirt and his chest vibrated as he laughed.

He leaned back, looking at how she’s aged well in person. A few frown lines are scattered across her forehead and dark bags from lack of sleep evident on face but he couldn’t help but notice that she still had that same beautiful, youthful features that remained from their 20′s.

A cough from behind Rhodes brought them out of their small reunion, forcing their attention on to the group awaiting anxiously for an introduction. “Oh shit, right. Avengers, this is Chloe Miller, Pip, these are the Avengers.”

They all flashed her a welcoming smile as she drank in all of their faces.

‘Too many damn people. I’m not gonna get used to this quickly.’ Chloe thought to herself as she continued to study the heroes before her.

“Maybe we should actually start introductions instead of standing here looking like a bunch of mute dumbasses.” The man she recognises as Hawkeye spoke with a hint of sarcasm. “I’m Clint.”

He began to point at individuals as he recited their names to her. “That’s Natasha, Bucky and Sam. Over there we have Wanda, Vision and Thor. And finally, Carol, Stephen and Scott.”

“Lady Chloe, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Thor boomed as he quickly made his way over to her in just two large strides and proceeds to pat her shoulder.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too, Salt.” She winced slightly as she rolled the shoulder the God had previously touched with his large, powerful hands roughly, referencing the Angelina Jolie character with long, blonde hair.

“I apologize for my rough housing, lady Chloe.”

“All good, buddy.” She patted his arm to show there were no hard feelings between the two.

As it looked like Thor was to reply yet again, Steve decided to interject. “There’s a few more of us but they’re currently either out, busy in the labs or away for other matters, personal or other.”

“Cool.” She simply replied to the man. As formalities and introductions continued to be exchanged between the group she noticed a small girl peer from behind Scott, she appeared to be young, like 9 or 10.

The young girl wasn’t necessarily shy in any way, she just chosen to stay out of the way as the adults talked. Chloe tilted her head towards Rhodey who still stood beside her. “Didn’t realise you guys were a fucking day centre.” She joked quietly, causing the man to let out a chuckle at the crack.

“That’s Scott's kid, Cassie. It was Scott's weekend and she really wanted to stay at the compound. She’s a sweet kid.” Rhodey informed her. she nodded in acknowledgement before making the decision to take a step forward and lower herself down to the child's level.

“Hey there.” She smiled sweetly at the girl. “I heard that your name’s Cassie. I think that’s a super pretty name.” This caused the young girl to send a smile to the 43 year old and step closer.

“I think your name is pretty too.” Cassie spoke in a sweet voice, tone laced with a childlike chirpiness.

“I think we’re gonna get along great, Cassie.” She stuck her hand out towards the girl to finalise their meeting. Cassie grasps Chloe’s hand into her small, dainty one and shook it lightly.

Chloe straightened herself out and sent one last smile towards the girl before stepping back to her original position next to Rhodey. The man smiled sadly as he watched her in the corner of his eye, a knowing look in his eye as he noticed the smile that didn’t quite match the solemn look in her eye as she continuously glances as Cassie.

_______________

The group of people had migrated to the couches within the living space, continue to conversate with the newest addition to the building although, Scott had taken Cassie out to get food and have some daddy-daughter time.

As they continue to get to know each other, the elevator dinged once more, signifying the arrival of more people. Chloe peered over, seeing one Doctor Robert Bruce Banner, whom she was a big fan of, and a young male at his side.

‘Seriously. How many kids do they let in here?’

“Ah, Bruce, Peter. We’d like to introduce you to Doctor Chloe Miller. She’ll be working in the labs with you and Stark.” Steve spoke to the two. Chloe stood up, ignoring the mention of Anthony and met them halfway, shaking Banner’s outstretched hand.

“Doctor Banner, it’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve read all your papers. Your thesis's are impressive, to say the least.” He smiled sheepishly at Chloe. She noted he was quite the humble man.

“Thank you, Doctor. I look forward to working with you in the lab. Young Peter here works alongside us in the labs sometimes.” He directed her attention to the teenage boy that stood to his left.

“P-Parker Peter. I-uh-I mean, Peter Parker.” He wiped his hands on the front of his jeans before reaching to shake the woman’s, stumbling over his words.

She chuckled at the young boys behaviour and sent him a comforting smile which seemed to have helped him significantly. “Don’t worry kid. It’s nice to meet you. You must have a bright mind to be working alongside Banner occasionally.”

He beamed at this as he flushes a light shade of pink at her compliment. “I mean, I’m okay, I guess.” She laughed at his also apparent humbleness.

“Sure, kid.” She patted his shoulder gently before moving to sit beside Rhodey again.

Bruce and Peter joined the others on the couches, sitting in any space that was available. As they settled into their seats, Natasha spoke out over the small murmurs between people. “Tony still in the lab?”

“Yeah, he should be up in a few minutes though.” Banner replied then looked over towards Chloe. “Doctor Miller, have you met Stark before?” He questioned.

Rhodey and Chloe shared a look, almost seemingly having a miniature conversation telepathically that didn’t go unnoticed by the group. “I guess you could say that I have.”

Before the scientist could ask what she had meant by her statement, the elevator dinged once again, announcing a new arrival. “Why is everyone so damn quiet? Who fucking died guys?” He spoke as he walked further into the space, not looking up from the tablet his eyes were glued to.

Chloe didn’t even need to look to know it was him. His voice hadn’t altered that much over the years.

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed together when his question was met with silence. He tore his gaze away from tablet that displayed plans for one of his new suits and looked around at each person sat on the couches. He did a double-take when his eyes reached a a certain brunette from his past, a brunette he hadn’t seen in 13 years.

“Chloe.” He breathed out, multiple emotions are on display in his eyes alone but the most noticeable of them all is shock which is etched across his face.

She stood up straight, looking him directly in the eyes, her face stoic but voice laced with many emotions. “Stark.” She spoke with anger, malice in her tone.

Tony quickly recomposed himself before draining his face of emotion to match Chloe’s. “Don’t say my name with so much hate, Pip. After all, it was yours as well at some point in time.”

Rhodey closed his eyes for a brief moment as he sighed softly before joining the pair in standing, staying close to Chloe as he knows he needs his support most right now.

The rest of the Avengers, excluding the pairs best friend, looks at them in confusion, unsure of the true meaning behind his statement. “What do you mean you used to share it?” Wanda spoke up, her accent thick and laced with curiosity.

Then suddenly, it’s as if the newly gained information and witnessing the interaction between the two had made something click, everyone’s features change as quickly as a flick of a switch.

“No fucking way...”

“You guys are...”

“YOU GUYS ARE MARRIED?!”

_______________

Something a bit different

Never done an OC before but I kinda liked how this turned out

I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and appreciated :D

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