#mother miranda x fem oc

[ranchracoon]

The Perfect Plan Pt. 2

Alpha! Mother Miranda x Omega! (Pregnant) Reader

*Birth warning*

Miranda hates you. She hates how you curl up into her when you sleep, how attractive you are with your wide hips and pregnant belly, how weak you've made her, by the Black God, she hates you. She especially hates how easily you tore down her walls and made her fall madly in love with you. You were never supposed to be her mate, she was supposed to impregnant you with a daughter then toss you back to be used by Dimitrescu and her daughters. Everything in her head said to give you the cold shoulder, keep your basic needs met and wait for you to give birth but then her body reacts the complete opposite. She tells herself that you are now her mate but that doesn't mean she needs to treat you as such, but then you look at her with those eyes and she melts. 

Her stone-cold exterior now a puddle because of you, and the simple thought alone that she will have a daughter again makes her want to cry. The first trimester was the hardest; you vomited over everything and barely kept anything down except crackers, bread, and water. Even that was too much most days. Now you've gotten better control over the vomiting but have made very strict demands that Miranda no longer use any sort of scented lotions or soaps for the smell makes you queasy. Her false children, Alcina specifically, haven't stopped calling to see how you're doing, and Miranda has been avoiding it. Instead, she forces villagers to construct a whole new room to her home for the baby and provides everything that the baby will need when she comes. She dedicates all of her time and energy to making sure you are comfortable. 

That is until one day Miranda has had enough with the phone ringing and finally answers only to hear that infernal doll on the other end. Miranda pinches the bridge of her nose, as the doll goes off. You and her unborn daughter have made her soft. By now she would have snapped and yelled at Angie for even raising her voice at her, but right as Miranda is about to yell, you wrap your arms around her torso. The warmth from your body soothes and smothers any raging fires inside her and she instantly calms. Her hand gently placed atop yours as you nuzzle into her back for added affection. Very well. 

"Alcina again?" You murmur when she hangs up. 

"No. Donna. She's worried because it's been over a month with no meeting, and I typically call one by now for updates. She doesn't know about you. None of them truly know. I suppose it's time to present you as my mate and inform them to resign their experiments." Miranda sighs. 

"It'll be okay." You reassure. 

"I hope you are correct."

Miranda calls Donna back and informs her there will be a meeting, then she summons the others and looks you over. You have to be presentable, although she couldn't care less what her false children think of you, she wants to show you off. She puts you in a comfortable outfit that still accentuates your hips and Miranda can't help but stare as you walk by. How much she loves watching you leave, the sway of your hips, the aroma of your scent, everything drives her wild. If it were up to her, she wouldn't let you leave without smelling like her but there's no time now. Because of your pace it takes you and her longer to get to the meeting place, and you use a handkerchief to cover your nose from the smell of rotting wood and mold. 

Not the best place to bring her pregnant mate, she'll have to do something about this to remedy that. The others are already there waiting impatiently, Heisenberg taps his foot annoyingly as Miranda keeps you off to the side for dramatic effect. 

"Thank you all for being here. As you know I have been conducting a new experiment and I am proud to say it has been a success. I have found an organic way of bringing back my daughter, and I have also found myself a new mate. Allow me to introduce Y/N."

You walk forward to take your place by her side. The room is mixed: Angie is overjoyed to have a child to play with, Heisenberg could care less, Moreau looks hurt and then there's Lady Dimitrescu. She's presenting all seven stages of grief, currently sitting at anger. She abruptly stands, Miranda positions herself in front of you for protection.

"Your mate? Well. Congratulations Mother Miranda. I'm glad your excitement was a success. May I ask, what does that mean for us and the village?" She asks through gritted teeth. 

Miranda scoffs and wants to say she could care less about her failures and the village. She only needed the villagers for experimentation. However, you touch her upper arm, and she remembers your request. She hates how weak you've made her, yet she would burn the world if you asked. Yet she loves how excited you get when she agrees, and the way your dimples pop out when you smile.

"The village has been neglected for too long. I want us to halt our experiments and instead spend energy into the village. New homes, better education, healthier fields. I want my future family to have a worthy home. As for you lot, I-" Miranda growls under her breath, she looks over her shoulder at you and you only stare at her with those doe eyes. 

"I apologize for how I have treated you in the past. My mate has requested that if you chose, you may be a part of this family proper."

"And what if we don't? What if we don't buy into this bullshit and think it's another plot to keep us under your thumb?" Snaps Heisenberg. 

He stands and Miranda shields you from his advances, "what if instead of being one 'happy little family,' I'd rather bash your skull in?"

"Then you are free to leave." Miranda responds coldly. 

Heisenberg halts in his step, he's skeptical of course and doesn't believe she's true to her word. He looks toward the door then back at her, inches toward it, looks again. He continues this until he's at the door, swings it open with a loud thud, and stomps through with the door slamming shut behind him. She dismisses the other lords who take their leave without a word, except Lady Beneviento. She approaches you and silently asks to touch your stomach. You agree and she rests her cold hands upon you. She feels the occasional kick and fluttering of movement which is more than enough excitement for her. 

*          *          *

Over the course of the next few short months, Donna and Alcina have sent you more than enough baby items. Clothes, cloths, numerous dolls, but your favorite is something you requested especially from Donna; a stuffed crow. It's the softest thing you've ever held, and you keep it safely tucked in the hand-built crib that Miranda got. Salvatore showed his affection in, well, his own way. He had fresh fish delivered daily and reported that the bay is now clear as crystal with healthy populations to feed the village a hundred times over. You're not going to tell him that fish currently makes you want to hurl. Miranda is the one who takes the longest to adjust. She spends long periods of time in her lab, and if it weren't for the smell, you would go down there to see what she's doing.

"Miranda." You say softly, sitting up with difficulty in bed.

"Yes, my dear?" She asks, helping you sit up and turning her attention to you. 

"What are you doing down in the lab? Ever since the meeting you've spent all our time down there."

You are worried for her, but another part of you is sad that she's no longer showering you with attention and affection like she did before the meeting. Miranda sighs and looks down, unsure of how to tell you. She's angry that you've made her change, she's happy that her experiment worked, she's mourning the loss of her purpose. 

"I'm down there because, I'm scared." She finally admits. 

You take her hand into your own, brushing your thumb over the back of her hand soothingly. 

"I haven't been a parent since I lost my dear Eva. I've spent the last hundred years trying to get her back and now, now I'm so close to having that again. What if, what if I've changes for the worse? You saw how the village was, if not for you I would still be that way. You've softened me, made me care, and I hate that. I believe I only hate it because it terrifies me. What if I lose this one too? Or I'm not a good parent?"

You kiss her knuckles tenderly, "if you treat this child even remotely as well as you've treated me then I would say you'll be just fine. I've never been a parent before, so this is a new learning experience for the both of us. I have full faith that you will be an excellent mom to our baby, especially with how much you've been willing to sacrifice and do. Although, I do think we should lock up the lab and not tell them about the thousands of experiments you've done. Not until they're older."

Miranda scoffs but she has a smile. She looks you over and her body relaxes, she hated you so much for you've changed her in the course of a few short months. It would seem you experimented on her as well. She changed your entire biology, and you changed her entire being. She loves you with a burning fire that will spread to the child in your stomach, and to every child after. Miranda loves you so much, it hurts her to try and comprehend how much she does. 

*          *          *

You scream loudly, the pain shooting through your entire body as you push with all your strength. Miranda braces and holds the crowning head and guides the infant out before plopping the crying being on your exposed stomach. She pushes the placenta out and pinches the umbilical cord before severing it. You pant heavily and toss your head back, a million miles swirling as you fade in and out of consciousness with the relief of no more pain. Miranda does everything: she takes your newborn daughter and cleans her face and body, putting her in a diaper and wrapping her warmly in a blanket. She cleans you off, hooks you to an IV, and gets your comfortable in bed to recover. As you regain some strength, now being fed a wonderful cocktail of pain meds, she hands the newborn over to you and you happily take her. 

She's beautiful. You tear up and smile down at her, caressing her round, swollen cheek as she scoots around for a nipple. You chuckle and begin to breastfeed your daughter, leaning back against the headboard and finally looking over at Miranda. Her hair is a mess, her face is flushed, she looks like she was the one who just gave birth and yet she still somehow looks beautiful. She brushes some hair away from your face and gives you a tender kiss on the forehead. 

"She's beautiful." You say proudly. 

"You and her both. I'm so proud of you."

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

Wildflowers (pt. ixx)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: nsfw, exhibitionism

a/n:  well, i know it's been a while, but life just kind of goes goes goes when you're not looking, doesn't it? thanks for your patience. if you feel inclined to leave a comment or a word or two, it would be much appreciated. love you all.

pt. ixx, ground ivy

"You're mine, you're mine, you're mine."

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

“You love it. Now put this on.”

I eyed the white dress hanging on the end of Pat’s finger. “I’m not sure it’ll fit.”

“Oh, criminy. Don’t act like you’re dragging a trolley around.”

I blushed, spinning my arse toward the mirror and running a hand over my dress to show off the curve. “It’s deceptively large, Pat.”

“Julia, I’ve had two children,” Pat scoffed.

“And it doesn’t show.”

She huffed. “Put the bloody dress on, would you?”

I snatched the dress out of her hand and went behind the dressing screen in the corner of the guest room.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a tennis dress, love,” she piped.

“Why’s that?” I asked, voice muffled through the fabric of the dress as I pulled it over my head.

“Oh, you just give off that sort of tennis playing girl feeling. Don’t you think?”

I was not about to admit that I played quite a bit in school. I’d given up the sport altogether while I was with Nick. I hated being stuck with the girlfriends and wives of his barrister friends who were mostly vapid (and that, I thought, was a rather generous assessment). “I feel like that’s not a compliment.”

“No! Of course it is. You’re very elegant. Posh, even.”

I groaned. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m only telling you what’s true.”

I straightened out the dress before coming out from behind the screen.

“Oh, Julia, you look darling.”

I turned to look in the mirror. It did fit rather nicely, showing off my assets, but also the pudge of my arms I didn’t particularly like. I pulled at the fabric to lay flatter on my stomach. “Posh is how I’d describe my mother.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I laughed. “It is.” My mother was the textbook definition of the word, made even worse by the fact we were not wealthy by any means, but right on the cusp of upper middle class, which made her feel entitled to pretension. “Well, I guess it’ll do.”

“Yes, more than do.” Pat came up behind me and fluffed out the skirt. “You should keep it. Looks better on you than me.”

“You know, if John had given me some forewarning this would be happening, I’d –”

“Don’t be too upset with him. The planning was very last minute, what with the children and John – my John – he always bristles against leaving for too long, the blessed thing. And plus there was the whole issue of Miranda and –”

My ears perked up. I hadn’t heard that name in quite some time. “Miranda?”

Pat’s eyes widened innocently. “Oh yes, I had planned on inviting her. An extended date for John. Thought I’d try again with her since things didn’t seem to…work out between you.”

I blinked. “Why didn’t you then?”

Pat smiled. “Well, John told me he wasn’t interested.”

“Oh.”

“Said he was preoccupied in…other ways,” Pat said with a waggle of her eyebrows.

Immediately, I was struck with ire. Didn’t John know the old adage ‘loose lips sink ships’? “He told you?! Are you serious?”

“No, he didn’t. But you just did.”

I gaped and tried to recover, but all that came out of my mouth was stuttering nothingness.

“To be fair, John isn’t the best at keeping a secret when he’s had champagne. I had to suspect when we were at Jimmy’s and I asked after you and instead of answering he just giggled.”

I balled my hands into fists.

“Julia,” Pat said in a girlish drawl, leaning her arm on my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I wanted to tell her the honest truth: that it felt too complicated to tell. If I had thought Montreux was hard to explain, the past month would have been even more difficult.

Though I desperately clung onto the days leading up to John’s departure, my fingernails left no marks in the passage of time. Between managing the girls and balancing my emotions whilst also providing my usual ministry toward John (physically, emotionally, desperately), time was not on my side and before I knew it, it was the first day of school.

It helped that everyone was in good spirits. I could smile along, laugh, and enjoy life the way we had been in those twilight days of summer.

When I was alone with Annie, though, I was able to divulge my fears and secrets. She had either gotten over her resentment or pitied me enough to lend me an ear. Either way, I was grateful for it. I needed somewhere to pour out my feelings. I couldn’t taint John’s excitement and delight at the idea of “getting back at it”, as he put it.

It still didn’t make much sense to me after all the time he’d spent avoiding being goaded into returning to the madness of Zeppelin. But I had no place to question it.

I was just the lover.

Although…it was not lost on John that our time together was waning. He was exceptionally attentive when he could be. The moment we returned home from dropping the girls off for their first day of the school year, he shepherded me into the studio to sate his growing desire.

“Tomorrow…” he muttered. A cigarette hung from his mouth as he lazily buttoned up his shirt.

“Tomorrow, what?” I asked, moving at a much more sluggish pace, having to recover from being ruthlessly shagged.

John tugged his belt closed. “Bonzo and Pat are going to be popping by.”

I widened my eyes. “Popping by?”

“Relax, Julia.” He handed me his cigarette as he headed over to the piano. He was moving awfully fast these days. “Pat’s been nagging me for a visit and since we’ll be heading out on Wednesday, it just made sense for them to come down a day early. Then we can take off together.”

I took a drag of the cigarette, picking up my underwear from the floor. John began to play a tune as if I wasn’t even in the room. “They’ll be spending the night?”

His eyes flicked up to me and he smiled. “Yes. You’ll have to be on your best behavior.”

I suddenly felt exposed with my sleeve hanging off my shoulder. I readjusted it and rested my elbows on my knees. “I haven’t spoken to Pat since we were in Montreux.”

“She won’t hold it against you. You’ve been preoccupied.”

 I giggled. “I suppose so.”

John’s playing paused. He jerked his head toward the bench. “Come sit.”

I ashed the cigarette and went to the piano, sitting tentatively on the bench next to him. The studio was cleaner than it had been, mostly because I’d forced him to tidy up. No clothing on chairs or errant stacks of records.

John went back to playing, something quieter. “You’re off, Julia.” 

I raised my eyebrows.

“You think I haven’t noticed.”

I couldn’t respond because it was true. Perhaps I had misjudged him.

“Are you scared?”

I chewed on my lower lip and nodded, unwilling to answer him verbally.

“Because I’m leaving?”

A child. I felt like a child as he tried to coax out an answer from me. “I’ll be fine,” I said with a deep breath, forcing a smile.

John stopped playing again. He didn’t look up from the keys.

I had considered that I should ask. But I was always too afraid to utter those words. If I asked where we were going, I was worried John wouldn’t know or, worse, decide “nowhere” was the answer. “I don’t want you to worry,” I said, softly touching his wrist. “I know it will be hard for you to be away from the girls.”

This wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t my truth.

“Yes, but I know the feeling. I’m not looking forward to it, but I remember it somewhat,” John replied. He turned his hand over and interlaced his fingers with mine. “Besides, I know they’re in good hands.”

My heart sang. I would take every win I could, even if it wasn’t the thing I needed. It was better than nothing. “I’ll take good care of them.”

John started to trace his fingers along the back of my hand. “Is that what you need to hear? That I am confident you’ll take good care of them?”

I needed to hear so much more than that. But I could not bring myself to ask. “That’d be nice.”

He smiled. “I am confident that you’ll take good care of my girls.” Then, he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it. “I trust you completely.”

I leaned my head onto his shoulder. “How far we’ve come.”

“Very far. And you better get out of here before either of us ‘comes’ any farther,” he said, pushing me away playfully, hand against my sternum.

I laughed and tumbled off the bench to my feet. We both had work to do. John started playing again as I headed for the door but spoke before I could slip out. “You don’t happen to have a tennis skirt, do you?”

I turned around with a bewildered look. “Pardon me?”

“A tennis skirt. For tomorrow.”

“What do you mean a tennis skirt for tomorrow?”

“We’ll be playing tennis tomorrow per Pat’s request. Naturally, you’ll need a tennis skirt.”

This man left me more and more speechless by the minute.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” John stopped playing and notated something on the sheet music in front of him. “It’s no matter. I’ll tell Pat to bring something for you.”

“Right. Tennis.”

“Don’t get in your head, Julia,” John teased with a smirk.

“Not in my head at all.” Very much in my head, thank you for noticing. I opened the door and said wryly, “In fact, if you’d refer to me as Billie Jean King for the rest of the day, I’d much appreciate it.”

John laughed, “Alright, Billie Jean. If Battle of the Sexes is what you want, it’s what you’ll get.”

Now, here I was in Pat’s white tennis dress, having shown my whole hand to her because I didn’t see through her trickery. “I don’t know. It’s very tender.”

“So, didn’t anything happen at Montreux?”

I rolled my eyes. “Pat –”

“If you don’t answer the question, I’m just going to assume, you know.”

I smiled at the memory of that first kiss.

Pat batted me on the arm. “You little tart! You know how badly I’ve felt all this time thinking I’ve made things awkward, and it turns out you were just being secretive?”

“I’m sorry,” I said through laughter. “I’m sorry, you know, it’s just so…tender.”

“Tender sounds perfect.”

“Yes, but that’s not how I mean. I mean that it’s tenuous.” Tender and tenuous.

Pat narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know where you stand, then.”

“God, you’re good.”

She shrugs. “Just been around the block. You know I’m awfully old.”

I didn’t know how old she was but “awfully” was not how I’d describe it.

“Anyway.” She gave me her arm to take and guided me out of the guest room. “We’ll figure out where you stand today. Mark my words.”

“Don’t do anything stupid or obvious, Pat. We’ve never been around other people. I’m sure we’re going to pretend like nothing has been happening at all.”

Pat snickered. “Please, it doesn’t take a genius to spot two people who want to tear each other’s clothes off pretending they don’t want to tear each other’s clothes off.”  Then, she tossed her blonde hair back and sniffed. “Besides. I’m not obvious.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.             

The two of us tittered and made our way out to the terrace where the Johns were waiting in similarly matching white tennis sets.

“Aren’t you two adorable?” Pat exclaimed and bounced over to Bonzo, leaping into his lap and spreading her hand across his broad chest. “Just suits you, I think.”

“Don’t lie. I look like a meringue,” Bonzo grumbled.

She patted her hand on his stomach. “Don’t be silly.”

John was standing near the edge of the terrace, his foot up on a stone to tie one of his shoes. I was avoiding looking at him to hopefully put on an air of distance, although that seemed rather silly considering three of the four of us knew what was going on. And it was doubtful Pat hadn’t been talking to her husband about it.

So we’re just going to posture until someone keels over and dies, are we?

“Well, shall we?” Pat asked excitedly.

“If we must,” Bonzo said, pushing himself up to standing with her still in his arms.

She laughed and squirmed out of his arms. “Oh, no you don’t.” She picked up their racket bag from the table. She really could have been at Wimbledon. The whole look suited her. “Let’s go.”

Bonzo followed his wife off the terrace toward the tennis court.

Strings of a racket entered my visions. “Got one for you.”

I followed the contour of the racket, held by a hand I knew so well, up his arm, and finally, looked into John’s sapphire eyes. “Thank you,” I said, delicately taking the racket from him.

John glanced at the court where Pat was already practicing her swing and Bonzo was imitating her. This was met with riotous laughter from her. “You look nice.”

“John.”

“What? I mean it, the little skirt,” John teasingly glanced down at my bottom, “suits you.”

I sighed. “That’s not…Pat already knows about…” I crooked my finger and gestured between the two of us.

John feigned shock. “What? Did you tell her?”

“I said nothing.” One little white lie wouldn’t hurt. “Apparently you spilled the beans while you were drunk on champagne at Jimmy’s.”

I started for the tennis court; John quickly caught up with my stride. “Now, just a second. I did not ‘spill the beans’. I did nothing of the sort.”

“How would you remember if you were so drunk?”

“I’d certainly remember if I told people about –” John mocked the earlier move of my finger.

“Don’t move your finger like that at me!”

“You did it first!” 

“Yoo-hoo!” Pat called out, waving her hand excitedly. “Are you going to just stand there gawking at each other or come play?”

“We’re coming! Goodness, you’re as impatient as a calf on a tit!” I shouted at her.

Bonzo guffawed. “Yes, that’s about right.”

I touched my mouth softly, mortification setting in.

“Calf on a tit, mm?” John asked with a humored waggle of his eyebrows. 

“Sometimes the farm just comes out,” I grumbled. “Especially when I’m annoyed.”

“Julia…” he admonished. “Don’t be cross with me.” Then, to my surprise, he wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled me close. “If they know, they know. Makes it more fun, doesn’t it?” He capped off his public display with a soft kiss to my cheek.

I was stunned. I was absolutely ready to disdain him for a long while before I had to be my sweet self. Now, he was kissing me out in the open.

“Let’s have some fun before I go, shall we?”

He was smoother than butter and yet I was the one melting.

“Fine,” I replied and kissed him again, this time on the lips. If he wanted to have fun, I wasn’t taking any prisoners.

From the court, I could hear the hollers of the Bonhams. Brought me back to my school days when everyone was daring one another to kiss over an empty bottle of ale.

“By the way, those suit you,” I said, eyeballing the tiny white shorts doing a poor job of concealing his package.

I walked away before he could respond, wiping my lips clean of his spit. “You didn’t see any of that,” I said to Pat as I approached her.

 Her eyes gleamed. “Definitely not.” She popped her hip up against mine. “What do you think? Mixed doubles?”

“No, no, I promised Julia a battle of the sexes and that’s what it will be,” John announced, swinging his racket over his shoulder as he brushed by me. “Johns against Janes, come on, mate.” He patted Bonzo on the chest and the two walked to the other side of the court.

“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, aren’t they?” Pat murmured.

She had a point. Big lumbering John and the smaller, more skittering John. A dynamic duo, an attraction of opposites. I hadn’t seen them play, but I’d heard. You’d be daft not to recognize their enigmatic fusion, full of power and nuance, neither one ever too much or too little.

Perhaps it had been predetermined by their biology.

“We’re serving first!” Pat cried out.

“Ladies first,” Bonzo conceded without any fuss.

Pat prodded my hip with her racket. “Want to serve, or should I?”

“You do it. I’m too rusty. Need to warm up.” I moved to the front of the court.

John and Bonzo mirrored us, John taking the front of the court and Bonzo the back. I got myself in a ready position and gave John a sly smile. “Best of luck.”

He blew me a kiss, sticking the racket out in front of him.

Game on.

“Alright, boys! Watch out!” Pat cried out before throwing the ball upward and elegantly serving the ball over the net, the pop of the tennis ball echoing over the court.

The ball went straight to Bonzo who crudely volleyed it back to me. I backhanded it over the net, right past John, quite literally sending him back in a tailspin; that’s all it took to earn us the first point.

“Rusty, are you?” Pat cackled.

I cocked my hip to the side and smiled. “Some say it’s like riding a bicycle.”

“Or riding something else, eh?”

We both snickered. This was going to be fun.

It quickly became apparent that I had no reason to be worried about my rustiness. Not only was Pat an adept partner, but our opponents were as laughable as the Three Stooges. Practically a slapstick routine how big and little John tripped over one another, darting back and forth, nearly running smack into one another and the ball bumbling between them.

“For God’s sake, could you try at all?” Pat cried out when we'd just surpassed them at forty-love. 

“You takin’ the piss or what?” Bonzo said through heaving breaths. “Didn’t you see me running back and forth around here or –”

“Oh don’t be breathing like you ran to Waterloo and back!” Pat snipped in return.

I couldn’t help laughing. Their rapport was so easy, endearing and needling in the best way.

“I tried,” John (my John) said, leaning up against the net post.

Pat went to him and touched the little curl of his hair at his jaw. “All you’re trying to do is make sure the ball doesn’t hit you square between the eyes while you admire Julia’s tits.” She yanked the lock of his hair playfully.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Someone’s got to keep you in check. I know Julia’s too sweet on you to do anything about it,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “We’ll go again. Try harder.”

Pat waltzed back to her spot on the court. I should have known she would be competitive.

“You heard her. Try again. And harder, while you’re at it, hm?” I said, emulating Pat’s attitude.

John and John gave each other a look, resigned to their fate. “If I have a coronary…” Bonzo droned.

“I know mouth to mouth,” John replied, shoving him off to the back corner. Before I could return to my place on the court, he caught my eye and smiled. “You’re sweet on me, hm?”

I glanced back at Pat and cocked my head to the side. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

And with that, I flounced back to my spot on the court, more smug than I probably deserve to be.

The second match went just as poorly except with less balletic antics. They had Pat and me in stitches the way they were stumbling about. We didn’t have it in us to finish the match – wanted to preserve their integrity – and Annie didn't have it in her to continue watching the massacre from the window. She interrupted us with a trayful of aperitifs (an ale for Bonzo, sherry for the rest of us).

I suddenly understood why people liked to play tennis. There was a whole lot of standing around and chatting. A lot of lazing about in the sun, cheeks blushed with alcohol, veiled and not so veiled, teases thrown around.

It felt even better to be at the elbow of a man I was coming to adore much quicker than I could make logical sense of. I liked being eyed over John’s glass of sherry and enjoyed the playful touch of his hand from time to time.

“How’ve you got a whole court in your backyard and you’re that daffy at tennis, Jonesy?” Bonzo asked, a mustache full of foam.

“I’m a busy man,” John replied. The sherry glass looked like a delicate spider web between his fingers.

“Yes, been keeping very busy…” Pat smirked.

John let out a knowing laugh. “Compared to Jimmy’s dart playing, I think I’m a competent tennis player.”

“A caterpillar would be a competent tennis player compared to Jimmy at darts,” Bonzo added with a shrewd smile.

I knocked back the rest of my sherry. “Well, John, I had my battle of the sexes. Maybe we ought to mix things up so your ego isn’t too bruised by the time the day is out.”

“Me? An ego?” John clutched his heart. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t,” Bonzo laughed low and patted his friend on the back. “Come on. Take your girl, I won’t be hurt.”

Pat wrapped her arm around her husband’s bulging bicep as she joined him on the opposite side of the court.

I didn’t mind being John’s “girl” even if I usually abhorred being called anything but a woman. In the presence of the right man, diminutiveness feels safe and welcoming. In fact, seeing how John treated the girls in his life made me want to be one. A delicate little flower, nourished by his dotage and admired with tenderness. Rather than tenderized like a piece of meat.

“You better serve,” John said.

“So I can make up for your fumbling, hm?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Seems like I’m the Tin Man between the two of us, if we’re comparing rustiness.”

I touched his chin. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” I leaned in to kiss him and quickly spun away from him before our lips could collide. “Later.”

John guffawed as I slipped out of his grasp. “Later. Alright.”

I walked away with a spring in my step like I’d never felt. Whether it was the sherry or our attraction being witnessed, I didn’t know. I didn’t need to know. All I had to do was work the court with everything I had in me.

Looking at the length of the tennis court, I was suddenly struck with my reality. Julia Morgan, nanny, standing on a tennis court in the sprawling gardens of a Georgian manor house, sleeping with her employer.

If only the Bronte sisters had gotten a load of me.

“Alright, Julia. Give it a rip!” Pat shouted. She was taking the front of the court, counting on Bonzo’s width to control the back of the court.

I gave the white wooly ball a few bounces, then threw it up in the air and gave it my best serve.

Pop! The ball flew across the court. It thwapped the ground and bounced toward Bonzo.

“Got it?!” Pat yelped.

He backhanded it over the net. “Got it!”

“You have to say, ‘got it’ before you get it!”

I couldn’t concentrate more on the conversation. I skittered up the court the moment I saw John whiff it. “Mine,” I grunted and knocked the ball back over the net. Pat and I kept a good volley with the Johns contributing now and then, until I sent the ball to the back corner, and it bounced out of bounds.

“Oo! Fifteen-love to Julia. No thanks to John!”

“I helped a little.”

“Yes, you did, darling,” I cooed, pinching his cheek.

The game was more interesting than boys versus girls, but still ended up being Pat and I doing most of the work which is, when you think of it, sadly true to life.

However, with the alcohol running through our systems, even Pat and I went silly some of the time. Tripping over ourselves, skipping around the court, throwing our heads back with laughter The score went out the window, and we all did a feral, gameless dance.

“I think we’ve won,” I said after several bouts.

“No thanks to me, hm?” John murmured, coming up behind me and stealing a kiss.

I latched a hand onto the breast of his shirt. “Certainly not.”

“I’ll allow it only because you’re sickeningly adorable together,” Pat said with a long, heavy sigh. “I’m awfully tired though. Will you be gutted if we call it quits?”

I wanted nothing more than to retreat into the house for a shower and a number of other things. “No, I think it’s about time.”

“We need a catnap before dinner,” Pat said and then tucked her mouth behind her hand to whisper to me, “At least he does.”

“Are you talkin’ about me over here?”

“Never.” Pat smiled at him innocently and batted her lashes.

Bonzo eyed her and then swiped her legs out from under her and threw her over his shoulder. “Likely story.”

“Oh, you brute,” she sighed dreamily. “See you two at dinner!” Pat yelped, hanging over her husband’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes, attempting to wave goodbye.

John and I both laughed and watched them go off. I smiled surreptitiously at him, touching the lapel of his tennis shirt. “Well, should we follow them?”

He cocked his head, almost confused. “You all finished?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You wanted to play more?”

“Oh, I just thought –” John picked up the tennis ball from the ground and popped it in the air, catching it right back in his palm. “You and I could have a go.” He placed the ball into my hand. “Thought you could teach me a few things.”

“John, my skills cannot be taught,” I teased.

“Mm, can’t they?” He stepped up to me, toe to toe. He might not have been much taller than me, but when he acted cocky, he managed to tower. “Humor me, Julia.”

Damn him. So pretty and intoxicating. And so little time left. Less than twelve hours before he’d be gone. I pointed to the other side of the court with my racket. “Alright. But don’t be upset when I beat you.”

“Trust me, Julia, it will be an absolute honor to lose to you.”

I smiled to myself and crossed to my position on the court. “You ready?”

“Whenever you are, Billie Jean.”

“Watch and learn, I guess,” I said through a giggle. I’d gained a lot of confidence in my serve since the last game. My body remembered the pattern, the reach and the arc.

The ball flew across the court. John was on his toes, fast and precise with his movement. I was impressed. He might have been the Tin Man to start, but his joints had clearly been oiled. However, with a final swing of my racket, I managed to make the point. John ran to catch it but stopped short of the sideline. “Damn. Thought I had you,” he called out.

“You get the idea. You want to serve now?”

John smiled in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“That was just a practice,” I said with a casual shrug. “Besides, you’ll have to keep up with my technique,” I said, springing on my feet and swinging my racket playfully.

John laughed. “Oh, Julia…”

“What?”

John retrieved the ball and sighed. “I’m going to miss you.” Bounced the ball a few times. “That’s all.”

My heart fluttered. “You’re trying to distract me.”

A childish grin spread on his face. “Is it working?”

I set myself up at the back of the court and watched John ready his serve. A few bounces of the ball, tossing his hair out of his eyes, rolling his shoulders back. Throw and…

I wasn’t prepared for the strength of his serve. The ball flashed like lightning across the court. I didn’t even see it before it hit just before the baseline and out of bounds. “Bloody hell!” I screeched.

“Sorry!”

I looked at John. He still wore a hapless sort of expression. “What was that?”

“Luck, I guess?”

I collected the ball and tossed it back. “Alright. Fifteen-love, huh?”

“Is that my first point of the day? Goodness…” John mused as he readied his serve again.

This time, his serve was powerful, but I was quick this time and hit it right back onto his side of the net. John leapt up to meet it, smacking it back toward me. It whipped past my ear and out of my reach. I looked at him with wide eyes.

“Coincidence?” John said with a shrug.

I wasn’t so sure. “Thirty-love.” I threw the ball back his way.

Sure enough, his serve was quick and exacting. I was prepared though, and we were able to volley back and forth. Each time I hit the ball felt more and more out of my reach. I was having to take longer strides and leaps to get to it. And eventually, John made the kill shot, sending the ball off the court.

I stopped to catch my breath, placing my hands on my knees. “What…the hell…”

“Maybe I just needed to warm-up.”

I glanced over at him, breath still heaving. The fucker didn’t even seem plussed. He was smiling ear to ear. Almost like a maniac. “Are you hustling me?” I called out.

John frowned. “No, how would I be doing that?”

“Because you barely managed a point all afternoon and now it’s forty-love.”

John grabbed a new ball and readied himself for another serve. “I assure you, Julia, I haven’t been doing anything of the sort.” He bounced the ball waiting for me to be ready. Then, he lifted his head, sneaking a smirk on his face. “Besides…if I was hustling you, we would have had to have made a bet, wouldn’t we?”

I didn’t have time to argue the semantics of hustling before he thwapped the ball back over the net toward me. I had to think fast on my feet, just as I’d been doing all day. However, whereas I’d been at the top of my game all day, John had been storing his up for later. The sneak.

To the surprise of no one but my past self, John won with one stroke, leaving me with nothing but an aching elbow and sweaty brow. The ball whipped past me, bouncing off the court and into the grass. I turned to look at it, looking almost like an egg that had dropped from a nest.

“A fluke.”

My whole body went rigid at his voice.

“Shall we try again? Just to see?”

Growing up with two brothers, it was impossible for me not to be competitive. Wedged between the two of them in the birth order, I was always pushing myself to keep up. I knew I could wipe the floor with them.

And this would be no different. “Your luck is running out, Jones.” I grabbed the ball from the lawn and prepared to serve.

“Do your worst, Julia.”

My worst, or should I say best, fell short.

Fell really short.

Because John…well, if I hadn’t been the one losing to him, I would have said he was stunning. For a casual tennis player at least. He was quick, direct, agile. It seemed like every move was planned out before it happened, even though there was no way he could have known.

The final point had me stumbling toward the net like an idiot. I was Tweedle Dee and Dum wrapped into one.

He’d tricked me. And now he was just rubbing it in my face.

“What a surprise, huh?”

I stared at his pristine white shoes, hoping I could set them on fire with my gaze alone. “You…hustler.”

“I can’t be a hustler if –”

“Don’t.” I glared at him.

John still smiled stupidly.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course I am.”

I let out a guttural shriek and dropped my racket to the ground. I’d known enough children in my life to know what made a good tantrum. “You hustled –”

“Ah, ah, ah,” John taunted, wagging his finger.

I huffed. I didn’t even want to look at him. It didn’t matter that the only people who knew my foolishness were John, myself, and God.

“You fooled me.”

John grinned. “That’s the word!”

I gaped at him. So he admitted it. I wasn’t going to put up with this treatment any longer. I turned on my heels and stalked back to the house. Through his childish antics, the entire day had been tainted.

“Oh, oh, oh!” I heard John run after me. The metal of his racket hits my hip bone. He looped his arm around me, grabbed the metal of the racket, and pulled me flush to his pelvis. I gasped, struggling to continue walking. He only pulled me tighter. “Are you really so cross at me you’re going to throw a tantrum?”

I tried to wriggle, but with every step forward, he pulled harder. I turned to look at him over my shoulder and felt his hot breath slide across my face. “Yes.”

“Really? You’re going to ruin our…” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Wonderful day because…” my jaw.

“John…”

“…of your pride,” he murmured into my neck before pressing his lips to the delicate skin.

I couldn’t deny how he melted me. I couldn’t stay mad at him. Not when his mere touch made me feel like this. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” John mumbled and tightened the racket even more. I could feel his hardness up against my backside.

I grabbed the racket and tried to push it away. “I’m mad at you.”

He chuckled darkly, sliding his mouth up to my ear. “Are you?”

I didn’t have time to respond before he nibbled on my ear lobe. I let out a moan despite myself. “Fuck…”

“I knew you couldn’t be mad for too long.”

With him leaving tomorrow, there was no way I could be mad for too long. After all, I wanted him to come back to me. To adore me all the same. “I hate you.”

John sighed, pleased. “I know.”

I raked my hand through his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss. The moment our lips collided I knew I was done for.

John dropped the racket, one hand grabbing for my chest and the other sliding under my skirt, knocking up against my wet panties.

“John, not here,” I said breathlessly between kisses.

John bit down on my lower lip, pulling away. “Why not?” His hand on my chest caressed my breast eagerly, thumbing at my nipple until it stood erect through the fabric. “We’ve done it outside before.”

I looked in horror at the house. Thinking about all the life inside. “But the house –”

John’s hand threaded into my underwear, fingers dipping inside me. My legs went weak. “What about the house?”

“I…” All words left my brain as he pulsed his fingers inside me.

“What are you scared of?”

“They’re…” I tried to swallow. “In the house, there are people –”

John shoved his fingers deep inside me, thumb skimming my clit. I let out a strangled whine. “So what if there are people in the house?” he said through gritted teeth.

The feelings were so intense that I had to drop to my knees, grass breaking my fall. John didn’t let me go for a second. As the house loomed, my pleasure grew. It was so wrong and perverse.

And it felt so good.

John began to push my underwear down, further and further until I could feel his bare cock against my ass. “John, they’ll see!” I said in an urgent whisper.

His fingers curled around my chin, jerking my head back to look at into his eyes. Almost completely black, edged in blue.

Who was this man? What had gotten into him? Only weeks ago he had been whimpering in my arms, terrified of coming too fast. Now he was…an animal.

“Listen to me, Julia,” he said, each word tight with consonants. “I don’t care if anyone sees.”

I gulped.

“Because that house,” he said eyes flicking toward the house momentarily, “is mine. I can do whatever I want. I can do who I want. You understand?”

I nodded, completely hypnotized.

John’s finger traced the outside of my mouth. “The house is mine; the court is mine, the ground under you is mine.” He kissed me softly. “And Julia?”

“What?”

“You are mine.”

I couldn’t respond before John forced me down onto the grass, pushing himself inside of me. I cried out in surprise, the stretch sending a shock of warmth through my body. His hand pressed into my upper back, keeping my chest tight to the ground while my ass stayed in the air.

John made quick work, fast and hard.

And despite all the terror, the fear that someone was looking through a curtain from somewhere inside, I loved it.

I loved every second.

“Did you hear me?” he grunted through his teeth. “You’re mine.”

I moaned, feeling blades of grass fold into my lips.

John continued to mercilessly thrust, doubling over my back. I could hear every one of his breaths, his spit moving in his mouth, whimpers tucked deep in his throat. I dug my fingers into the dirt, clinging for dear life as my body was rocked back and forth with electric pulses from his cock buried inside me.

John’s fingers curled around my hips, so hard it was almost painful.

Nothing was pain, though, when I knew how much he wanted me.

I turned my face into the Earth and let out a huge, plangent cry. My whole body tightened with impending euphoria.

John let out a pathetic grunt. “Oh god, oh my god, I – ahh!”

My orgasm caught me off guard; my cunt clenched around him as warm, angry pleasure sent me spiraling.

As I reveled in pleasure, John pressed himself up against my back and with each final thrust, he grunted, “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re –” John cut himself off. Even he couldn’t stay composed when it came to his desire. “O-oh.”

And then he came, deep inside me, his seed feeling hotter and more desperate than usual.

I could feel his heart pounding into my back like a drum.

John’s head drooped beside mine; he kissed the crest of my ear tenderly, as if he hadn’t just fucked me without repentance out in the open.

His words echoed in my head. You’re mine. It seemed so simple, just two words. But I had no idea what that meant to him. Which part of me was he claiming? My body? My heart? He could have all of it, but I didn’t want to give it away and look rash.

John rolled off of me with a sated sigh. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said, following suit and flopping onto my back. I looked down at my dress. White splotched with green. “Oh god, Pat’s dress.”

“I’ll buy her a new one,” John sighed. He reached out and pulled on my skirt. “Besides, this looks too good on you to get rid of.”

I gave him a small, bashful smile. “It’s probably nearly time to get the girls from school.”

“Oh, them. Forgot about them.”

“Shut up,” I snipped.

He laughed through closed lips.

“I’ll need to shower before I go to get them.”

“No, no. I’ll get them.” John pushed himself up to sitting with a heavy sigh, collapsing over his chest.

I giggled. “You sure you’ll make it?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Not to worry.” He got to his feet and dusted off the few blades of grass from his white shirt and tiny shorts. “Are you coming?”

My whole body felt like a part of the earth. I couldn’t leave it now. “In a minute. I’ll be up in a minute.”

John put his hands on his hips. “You’re not still cross with me, are you?” he asked, eyeing me.

I waved my feet back and forth. “Oh, of course I am.”

“Guess I’ll have to make up for it later then, hm?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

I sighed, considering his expression. That sneaking little smile. Deep dimples. It broke my heart knowing tonight was our last night for a while.

John blew me a kiss. “I’m off.”

I kissed the air, too tired to even motion backward.

John sauntered up to the house.

“Change before you go,” I called out after him.

No response. I was bathed only in the delicate sounds of nature.

I could lay there. Forever, maybe. Let the worms devour me until I became a part of the earth. Then I wouldn’t have the question if I was John’s. I’d be a part of the ground that would belong to him.

Then, he could never get rid of me.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have that kind of time. I had to get myself in proper shape for the girls when they got home. I scurried upstairs to the apartment, narrowly avoiding a collision with Annie, stripped off my clothes, and jumped in the shower, washing off the tramp and stepping back into the role of Madonna.

I could be both for him. While he was away, I could take care of his children, keep his home. And then when he returned, I could tend to him. All his needs.

He’d be a fool to let me go, wouldn’t he?

When John returned with the girls, we corralled them into the kitchen where Annie had set the table with lemonade and tea cakes. They stuffed their faces while they excitedly talked about their day at school.

The Bonhams joined us shortly after to the thrill of the girls. Pat doting, Bonzo teasing. John and I of course retreated into our respectable distance. After all, a confirmed romance is one thing, but involving his children would be another. However, I couldn’t ignore the prolonged glances through dinner, the tiny smiles exchanged over dessert, and the graze of his hand on my neck as he passed behind my seat.

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

Bloody hell, that meant something, didn’t it?

Evening turned into night. Pat and I took care of bedtime while the Johns retreated into the studio, already chomping at the bit to get back to the music. While I was dreading John’s trip, their excitable chatting over what was to come let me know it was right.

Pat and I stayed up for several hours gabbing away, catching up on every little thing since Montreux. I was pleased to be able to call her a friend.

However, when midnight came and went and there was no sign of our respective male companions, Pat had had enough. “What are they getting up to down there anyway?”

“Any number of things.”

She got to her feet and went to the door to the stairwell. She listened for a moment and then huffed. “I don’t even think they’re playing anymore! What on earth do they have to talk about?”

I giggled.

“I want him to get to bed. otherwise he’ll be grumpy in the morning and we’ll have to wake him up with smelling salts.”

“I’ll do it, I’ve got a lot of experience interrupting John in the studio.”

“Mm. Well, I’ll go with you in case my husband gives you grief.”

I tiptoed down the stairs, with Pat at my heels. We could hear the muffled conversation of men through the gap in the studio door.

The closer we got the more words we could make out.

Pat shot ahead of me and cocked her ear toward the door.

“Are you listening?” I whispered.

She put her finger over her mouth to silence me and pulled me close to her. “We can have a little fun too, can’t we?” she said, lips so close to my ear she might be kissing me.

I wasn’t above eavesdropping. In fact, it seemed like a fun little game for two adult women having something resembling a slumber party.

Oh, but how wrong I was.

“You’ll keep quiet about it, won’t you?”

“Who would I even tell?” Bonzo could be heard asking.

“I don’t know,” came John’s voice. Quieter. Nervous even. “Robert, maybe.”

“Don’t be thick, Jones. We don’t talk about your extracurriculars,” he replied with a deep chuckle.

“Ah, right.”

“Besides, what would be the harm in anyone knowing you fancy Julia anyway?”

Pat and I exchanged a look. My heart started to pump in my chest. He was talking about me.

Making sure I was a secret.

“Because…I don’t know if I even fancy Julia.”

Pat grabbed my arm.

Luckily, Bonzo was there to defend my honor. “You’re mental. The way you two were acting out there today.”

John didn’t reply. Pat and I leaned closer to the door in case we missed him whispering.

“She’s a pretty thing, she’s good with your girls, what more is there to it?” Bonzo continued.

“Alright, well, it’s not that I don’t fancy her, I guess. What I mean is…”

There was a long silence. I would have liked to jump into it and never be heard from again.

“It’s all been moving so quickly. And –” John cleared his throat. “You know, I still think about her all the time.”

That “her” was not me.

That “her” was Mo.

“‘Course you do, mate.”

“My mind just gets so…scrambled up.” Another pause. “And I need to get that all straightened out before I move forward with anything.”

Pat took that moment to pull open the door. I darted out of view, wringing my hands in the skirt of my nightgown. “Well, you two might as well just marry each other how long you’ve left us cold in bed, huh?”

I hurried up the stairs and left the chastising to her. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears as I leapt into bed and tucked myself under the covers.

Of course he wasn’t ready. How could I have been so foolish? Men never, ever say what they mean. They say what they think and don’t bother to evaluate whether they should say it. They feel entitled to every stupid thought that pops into their head.

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

By the time John crept into bed and slid his arms around me, I was not in the mood to indulge his impulses.

“You’re tired?”

“Mhm.”

He kissed me softly at the base of my skull with the lips that had just had the audacity to denounce me behind closed doors. “Goodnight, angel.”

For the first time since finding out he was leaving, I couldn’t wait for him to get out of my bed.

tag list: @jimmys-zeppelin, @kari-12-10, @grxtsch, @edal-weis, @ritacaroline, @kyunisixx, @salixfragilis, @rebel-without-a-zeppelin, @jimmypages, @dollyvandal, @cassiana-on-dark-side , @thepinklovewitch, @faisonsunreve, @sastrugie, @seventieswhore, @t4ngerinedr3am, @mayspringcome, @barrettavenue, @foreverandadaydarling, @glimmerofsanity, @montereypopgroupie, @lzep, @jimmysdragonsuit13, @n0quart3r, @larsgoingtomars, @paginate54, @leveeisbreaking (let me know if you’d like to be added 💋)

[gray-lord-cat]

ACTIVE SOARING - Reiner x OC fem reader// CHAP 1 "White dreams"

“White dreams”

YEAR 845

“Vickyyy”

No, wait

“Vicky”

Just a little more, it’s that dream again

“Victoria!”

I need to know how it ends

“Victoria Orpheus”

Shit, it’s gone. What was… that dream? I can’t remember it anymore. I hate this feeling.

White dream id the feeling of having had a dream experience without being able to remember it entirely. I hate it.

“What is it, Manon?” I ask my sister while rubbing my eyes, still distressed about having my dream interrupted. I haven’t slept well in a while, I hope I don’t end up with Dad’s eyebags.

“They’re back! They’re finally back!”

“Who’s back?”

“The Survey Corps”

I let a big yawn and roll under the bed sheets again. “okay”

“Well?”

“’Well’?” God, please, let me rest

“Aren’t you going to come with me to see them? Come on, we don’t usually travel to this part of the Walls! It’s an opportunity that we can’t always have!”

“Yet, you always sneak out to see them. Every. Single. Time. Sometimes you even run away for days just to see them. And mom always gets mad at me for getting you out of sight.”

“And I always beg for forgiveness and get the beating.”

“You’re not sorry though, if you still do it.”

“No, in fact, I’m not” she winks at me

I sigh and close my eyes again, ignoring my insisting twin sister.

There’s no doubt she’s my twin, we’re the same, physically speaking. Sometimes not even our parents can guess who’s who. Our art name, the one that the circus fans gave us, “The Twin Redbirds”, speaks for itself as both my sister and I have curly red hair. We are amateur trapezes, under the guidance of our mother, Miranda Orpheus (before Jaques) alias “Moira”, the main trapeze dancer of the circus.

However, Manon and I know very well how different we are.

Manon is impulsive, stubborn, and direct yet very empathetic and childish. Even though we travel a lot due to the traveling circus, she always managed to make friends thanks to her friendly and extroverted personality. However, partially being my fault, she suddenly grew this habit of seeing the world in black and white.

Thanks to our aunt Lara, we secretly grew to share her curiosity about the world beyond the Walls and decided to see it for ourselves. This led Moira to develop a scornful attitude towards anyone content to live and die within the Walls' confines without ever setting foot outside. As a result of this, he greatly admired the soldiers of the Survey Corps, regarding them as "heroes" and wishing to join their ranks as soon as he became eligible for enrollment. She also developed a marked lack of self-restraint that often led her into trouble, causing me, Mom, dad, and the entire circus to worry. 

I know, she knows. We obviously don’t care, but our differences are causes of many fights.

“So you’re fine like this? Like an animal in a cage? Trapped in here?”

“Please not this again, I just woke up”

“You agree with me, I know you do. I know you want to seek the truth but as much as me. Don’t you want to see the ocean, people who don’t look like us, to be able to speak new languages, to try new food, to pet mysterious animals? You said you always wanted to see a zebra”

“We don’t even know if those books tell the truth and if any of those things exist”

“… why are you like this now? You were so eager to investigate and now you’re like these”

“what to do mean?”

“Since Aunt Lara died, you lost hope to look further the walls. You are like a slave to this hypocritic lie the monarchy foisted on us”

“you know why. If we continue we are going to end up like her. Dead in a tremendous way. I don’t want you to get hurt, or worse die. I love you, you’re my sister, you can’t leave me. Also, lower your voice when you give voice to your thoughts.”

“…pussy”

“excuse you”

“you heard me. You’re a pussy” I can see her sly smile, I know she’s teasing me, even though I suspect she mean it this time.

“you little-” I throw my pillow to her face as she dramatically falls on the bed and tries to tickle me

“c’mon Vi, don’t you wanna see Commander Erwin Smith all bloody and swe-”

“Manon!”

This time I’ll go with her.

I’ll follow her every chance I get. Just to know she’s safe and happy.

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

“They're gonna open the front gate!” she’s too excited to see the suicidal corps. And Commander Erwin Smith.

“Yes, Manny, I can see it”

“c’mon, let's go see the heroes return, Vicky!” She takes my hand and drags me closer to the anxious crowd. With the corner of my eye, I see a little boy, possibly my age, doing the same exact thing to another little girl on the other side of the road. Ah, the dreadful fate of older sisters (me being older by almost an hour is a privilege I always rub in Manon’s face).

“Damn! I can't see… ah here! … they're the only ones who made it back?”

“Everyone else must've gotten eaten”

There’s an uncomfortable silence between the people watching. The young ones are watching the soldiers in a stupor, some whisper prayers of comfort, others are looking at them with pity, others with disgust, I can see mothers looking for their children

“Moses! Moses!”

Oh no

An elderly woman with gray long hair and poorly dressed stand out of the crowd and stops a soldier, grabbing him by the collar.

“Excuse me, I don't see my son Moses anywhere. Do you know where he is?”

This is Moses' mother.

“So you’re Moses' mother. Go get it.”

I swear I saw her eyes light up for a moment just for the realization to hit.

“It's all we could retrieve.”

The soldier hands her the remaining of her son and she slowly unwraps them, frenetically. It’s his arm, Moses is just an arm now.

“But... my son...he was helpful, yes?” the woman falls to her knees and tries to blather, her eyes staring at… nothing really, even if her head is turned to the soldier in front of her.

“Even if he didn't achieve direct greatness...surely my son's death helped humanity fight back, yes?!” she screams scratching her throat up as she cries hysterically.

Silence. A blow of wind seems to rouse the brown-haired soldier.

“Of course...!” he shouts, trying to comfort the grieving mother

Silence again

“No... On this latest scouting mission, we...No...Just like all the other missions...we achieved nothing at all! My incompetence has done nothing but needlessly send soldiers to their deaths! We haven't found out anything about them!”

Well, shit

“let’s go” Manon whispers to me. I see tears forming in her big eyes. As I said she believes in the cause, but she’s just an empathetic kid. Still, I silently nod a take her hand in mine, walking away.

“the show is in a few hours, maybe it will cheer up the village” And you, Moira. You always loved to fly

“Don't try to cheer me up, I’m not sad,” said the tearful girl

“I just stated a fact” I shrug and then kiss her cheek, like she always does me

“Thanks, Vi”

“Anytime”

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

----------------------------------------------------------------------------Heyy

this is my first fic ever and English isn't my first language so I apologize if I get something wrong. I do accept criticism so please help me improve my writing skills. As for "Active Soaring", I want it to be almost like a side story where the OC (who will be in close contact with the other major characters, of course) has her own character development and dream to achieve. The story still is a Reiner x reader, but it will be a slow burn (not too slow, but a little angst considering Reiner's development in the manga).

thank you if you've come this far reading!

[karlheisenwhore]

A funky blog for Resident Evil Village fics! (main @debaucheruby)

I go by a lot of different names but here you can call me Debauchery or Ruby.

I'll be posting OC insert fic stuff as well as reader insert things!

These are my rules about requests

I almost exclusively do NB/M!reader x canon

I can be persuaded sometimes to do fem!reader x canon if it's a good prompt

I won't write Dimitrescu with men (sorry)

I also almost exclusively write Dimitrescu as a trans woman!

No reader x Mother Miranda (she makes me uncomfortable)

Noncon is a no-go, I will not write it

You can request (if the reader is trans) that they be pre-transition or mid-transition (just clarify details for me!)

I'll add things as I post here! ^_^ For now I'll be transferring my fics from AO3 to this account! If you wanna support me on AO3, you can find me here!

[candescentclitoria]

What Does Heisenberg Want From Lady Langley/My Eyes Are Not Your Gift

Pairing: Not Yet Romantic! Donna Beneviento x Fem! OC

Warnings: Heisenberg’s a little shit, maybe a little out of Character.

A/N: This is something with my Oc Aurelia Langley, so I hope you guys like it. (Yes I used a picrew to create Aurelia, but I did draw her if y’all wanna see it!) 🥺

The meeting with Mother Miranda is long and tedious. Heisenberg being the loud man he is, announces that it is his birthday.

“Yes yes, we know you rat! Now would you do us all a favor and shut your trap! You’re making Aurelia uncomfortable.” Alcina speaks, taking a drag from her cigarette. “Oh, she’ll get over it! She needs to get out and socialize, I think I can provide that!” Heisenberg utters, cracking his knuckles. “Speaking of Aurelia, I have something I’d like to ask of you darlin’.”

Aurelia grimaces under her lace face cover and sighs, quietly muttering, “What is it you want, Heisenberg?” She’s already had enough of Heisenberg and his loud antics, preferring the quiet to his shouts of joy. Heisenberg chuckles and walks behind the blind woman, placing his hands on her shoulders. “See, today’s a special day. I turned 103 today and I thought for a not unseemly price, you’d introduce me to the wonders of your bed. And also treat me nice.”

Aurelia gags and pulls herself away from him, quickly standing. “I’m the man who throws the fits, he who puts the hammer in the wall. But dearest, please accept my hand Ms. Aurelia, who is perfect womanhood.” Heisenberg continues, rounding the short woman’s body and placing his hand on her cheek. “Heisenberg! I’ll ask you once to cease your actions and sit down!” Mother Miranda shouts. The factory owner ignores the elder matriarch and continues his advances. The ravenette slaps away the hand on her face and makes her way to stand beside the tall matriarch of House Dimitrescu. She lands her place on the tall ravenette’s right and speaks, “Why should you jump on me? Why should you dump on me? I knew when I first felt your presence, when I first looked in your eyes!”

“I like your eyes Ms. Aurelia!” Heisenberg says, walking closer. Alcina moves to stand in front of the smaller woman and her claws extend. “Move back, or I’ll slice you to ribbons!”

Heisenberg jumps and puts his hands up. “Come on now, just let me speak to the lady!” His telekinesis wraps scraps of metal around Alcina and drags her away. She struggles and pulls against the restraints, failing to escape. “Now, let me see those eyes Ms. Aurelia!”

“Oh! You have never seen my face!” Aurelia shouts, throwing her fan in front of her face. “I have never seen your eyes!” Heisenberg corrects, walking closer. “I was never out of place! I talked and I minded my business!” Aurelia shouts, “Get back in your place and mind your business!”

“But the business at hand-” Heisenberg begins, only to be cut off.

“Keep your hands off my eyes!”

“But the business at hand! I always liked the way you wore your lace cover in and out of meetings. I always like that you remain calm in your lace that’s cool, Ms. Aurelia. I always thought that cover hid your passion, that your fashion. Now it’s my birthday and here’s my surprise, I’m gonna see your eyes Ms. Aurelia, I’m gonna see your eyes my darlin’.”

Heisenberg pauses, reaching his hand out to remove the blind woman’s lace face cover. Aurelia grabs Heisenberg’s wrist and squeezes, her nails sinking into tan flesh. “Don’t touch my goddamn eyes you little shit, I’ll throw a fit! I’ll beat your head in with a hammer!”

Aurelia throws down her fan and twists the burly man's arm behind his back. “My eyes are my eyes! Your hands are your hands! Just keep your dirty fingers away from my face, kid, that’s the only thing that I demand!”

The room falls silent, Alcina falls to the ground with a thud and a groan. The metal that was holding her falls around her. Heisenberg shakes in Aurelia’s hands and pulls away. “Alright Alright! I’ll stop. Jesus Ms. Aurelia, you sure are mean.”

Aurelia shrinks back and picks up her fan. “I’m only mean when I need to be. Specifically when rude men decide that women are only objects to be used for their pleasure. Should you ever try to place your hands on me again in a vile way, I will break your arm and show no remorse.”

Heisenberg clears his throat and nods. “Never again Ms. Aurelia, I swear.” Aurelia nods and walks over to her seat, her fan opening. She fans herself and turns to face Miranda. “I apologize, please begin Mother Miranda.” Miranda gapes and nods, blinking rapidly. “Yes, I uh.. I called you all here to discuss the matter of Ethan Winters.”

Aurelia zones out, her fan the only thing still moving. Donna leans over slowly and taps the short woman. The witch turns her head to face the doll maker, “Yes Donna?”

“I’m proud of you and honestly quite stunned. I’ve never thought of you as the type to lash out, so I apologize if I seem rude. Usually it’s Alcina lashing out at Heisenberg, not you.” The Ravenette nods and places her hand on Donna’s shoulder. “That’s fair. I don’t usually lash out because I don’t like to, you know I’m rather quiet unless I’m comfortable.” Aurelia chuckles quietly and places her hands in her lap. Donna smiles and reaches out for her best friend’s hand. “I’m proud of you, I truly am.”

“Thank you Donna.”

Tag List: @empatheticroses

[theos-fics]

Give me a fucking lady Dimitrescu x OC fic please

I shouldn't cause you're rather aggressive @get-frickin-rekt but I am a kind soul who wants Lady Demitrescu to step on me as well. Enjoy

(Also I don't do ocs but I based it off your oc rat)

When she sees me

Lady Demitrescu x fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, age difference

"you smile like an idiot when you see her"

🐝 ------------------- 🍯 ------------------- 🐝

The fifth Lord, that's what you were. Well- that wasn't a very accurate title nor term to what you were within the dysfunctional family Miranda had morphed and fleshed out in some vicious attempt to bring back her daughter. You were what the Cadou made you. Like all the other Lords, Moreau being the exception, you had some human traits like form and appearance along with your temperament with the other Lords. As much as you were perceived to be a Lord and you technically had your own home, you often mingled with the fair Lady Alcina; it was mostly just pleasant conversation over her well made Sanguis Virginis.

But as said, you were made- altered by the Cadou, like becoming a rather tall vampire lady and... Capturing the eyes of- no one. You add the ability to manipulate Spiders and their webs, similar to the way the three youngest Demitrescu's daughters were with the flies. It was a mutation that you often found yourself playing around with, stealing things from Heisenberg to please Alcina or simply freaking him out with the largest spider you could pinpoint in his factory. It was a secret, but Karl Heisenberg had a terrible case of Arachnophobia; it was pretty embarrassing to watch.

🐝 ------------------- 🍯 ------------------- 🐝

"You super sized-" was mostly what you pinpointed from the the argument going on from your position beside Alcina's seat, glancing up at the Lady's expressions to make sure that Heisenberg hadn't toed the line.. Which he definitely had before. "Listen here you mutt loving maniac," Alcina shot back which almost earned a laugh from you, "we both know that Mother Miranda has a plan and we must trust it. You can't do anything anyway Karl." From her throne Miranda nodded in agreement, along with Moreau who was nodding more vigorously than even the Mother was. "Since Alcina pointed out an undeniable fact this meeting is over, I have more things to do than listen to you two argue." That was pretty much the end of the meeting, it was almost a flash of feathers and Miranda was gone from your constantly dulled vision, Alcina sighed in displeasure as she turned on her feels and wisked herself away from her fellow family members.

It was quiet, near silent, since it seemed like everyone had left while you were staring at Alcina- then the annoying rumble of Heisenberg's voice interrupted your thoughts."You smile like an idiot when you see her," He pointed out with a grin and the tilt of the cigar in his mouth, "even with these sunglasses on I can see those pearly whites (Y/n)." You knew it was true, even quiet Donna accompanied by less quiet Angie had pointed it out after one of the meetings- Moreau had stared with confusion which was enough for you to understand everyone had noticed. "Fuck- I know that Karl," you hesitated slightly, "I am an idiot around her. Ya know, I don't even like Sanguis Virginis! I just drink it to talk to her more..." For a moment he stared, then let out his wretched laugh, "I've seen you drink it you Arachni-freak. It's obvious."

🐝 ------------------- 🍯 ------------------- 🐝

You almost could hear her voice as you stared up at Lady Demitrescu's figure, knowing you were doing the usual smile as you fawned over her and stopped listening to anything really. "My dear? Are you alright? Did you get into the Wine? I know you like it but I didn't think you liked it that much," you knew you were flaking out- dazed in confused by the presence of this woman. "No, my Lady, I'm simply basking in your warmth." You could see the surprised glances of the little Maidens as they skittered away in fear, unsure of what Alcina was going to say about the uncalled for comment from her favorite Lord. She laughed, the melodic chant of joy was a gift from the heavens themselves. "I appreciate the comment my lovely, but there's no warmth coming from me," she declared a more than likely true fact and one you wished you had known.

You laughed as well, rubbing your flushed face before stating another true fact to the fair Lady. "My Lady, I cannot confirm nor deny that fact considering I have yet to hold onto you in any fashion." Alcina quirked her head, thinking for a moment before offering out her larger than life hand for you to hold; which you didn't take any time clasping onto. It was cool, though not cold like Cassandra or Bela or Daniela. Soft as well, only the hand that a mother would have it seemed. "You aren't warm, no my Lady, but I could change that if you so wished," you proposed to her with hopeful thinking and a smile. All you got as a nod, and her own hand clasped around yours as she began to talk about something else, chirping on about getting a new Maiden and making up a new batch of your favorite wine.

You knew Lady Demitrescu was needed elsewhere when, in near unison, her daughters called out to her for they needed assistance. She let go of your hand, standing up to her usual full height in which you followed by standing as well. Surprising you more than anything that day, was when Alcina bent over to press a kiss to your upper cheek. "You know (Y/n), you could've just asked to hold my hand."

[nightwishesworld]

True Colors Snippet

So I wasn’t going to do this since the fic won’t be ready until next week at the earliest, but I’m super excited about this and want to give you guys a little sneak peek. It is a Mother Miranda x fem oc (aka Izabela)

If you guys want I can link her character bio so you can see what she’s all about? Let me know

Warning: Lots of angst! Gagging and suggests blood and violence if you look close enough but I won’t make you read the details here.

*******************************************************************************************

“Don’t you dare talk about my children like that,” Izabela barked. “Each and every one of them is a treasure, of course, how would you know that? I’m the one that raised them! I’m the one that took care of them every single day and made sure they were loved! All you’ve ever done is reject them all their lives.”

“Because they are not children! They are experiments who have long since lost their purpose in our lives.”

“Yours perhaps, but never mine. I will always need my children.”

“Which is why I still keep them around.”

Izabela stopped. The way Miranda said that so calmly made her uncomfortable. How cold has this woman become? She shook her head, letting her rage consume her again. “Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor, Miranda. Whether you like it or not they are a part of our family.”

“Was there ever a family to begin with?”

She was gawking at this point. Miranda seeming completely unfazed by her own statement only fueled her rage. “You and I certainly were! Though I’m not surprised you don’t remember. It has been centuries since you’ve looked at me without needing me to run your stupid errands for you or do your dirty work. Gods, I can’t even remember when you last told me you love me.”

Miranda said nothing. She could see tears start to form in her Sparrow’s eyes. It pains Miranda to know she’s the reason they’re there, and she hates it. Her feelings for the younger woman should not be affecting her like this anymore, not after everything they’ve put each other through. But she can’t help it, even after choosing those failures over her, she still loves Izabela.

“You’re a mother. Your children are supposed to tell you how much they love you. Or do they not tell you anymore?” Miranda tsked. “It’s about time you noticed.”

“Of course they tell me. They love me more than they’ll ever love you!”

Miranda gave her a smug grin. “Then why is it my attention they crave and not yours? If they truly love you the way you say they do then shouldn’t you be enough?”

Izabela didn’t give her the satisfaction of responding. Truthfully she didn’t know if she could find the words to even say anything. Not being enough to satisfy her kids’ needs has always been one of her greatest fears and it gnawed at the back of her head every day. And Miranda knew it. 

“Do you really think, after everything you’ve put them through, they could still love you?”

Shut up shut up shut up!

“They look to me now because they see now what a burden you are to be around. Dead weight on their shoulders.”

Izabela slammed her fist against the wall. “Liar!”

Anyone other than Miranda wouldn’t have been able to see the heartbreak in Izabela’s eyes. She puts on a brave face, but they have known each other far too long for something as simple as masking her emotions to work. Miranda knew damn well her words were sticking, she could see it plain as day in Izabela’s glassy eyes.

“They see you for what you truly are, a used up old breeder with no reason to be here; a pawn. A single chess piece in my game to bring Eva home. You are nothing to them.”

Just watching the woman walk away so arrogantly made Izabela’s blood boil. Then she did something she’s never done before.

“A selfish bitch like you doesn’t deserve to be a mother!”

Izabela regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach when she saw the seething rage on Miranda’s face as she turned around. She strode back to Izabela, reaching out for her with her metallic bird-like talons and wrapped them around her neck.

The sharp tips of her talons pierced Izabela’s skin, drawing blood to drip down her neck like beads of sweat. She grabbed Miranda’s hands and tried desperately to pull them off of her, but it only made her grip tighten more. 

“It seems you’ve gotten bold in your years of solitude and have forgotten your place.”

“My place?” Izabela gasped. “We are equals. We run this show together, remember? You’d still be in your cave turning people into lycans if it weren’t for me.”

“You have long since outlived your usefulness. You’re worthless to me now.” The words spilled from Miranda’s lips before she could censor herself. But it was too late to turn back now. Even if she just made the only woman she’s ever loved cry her eyes out. 

“I thought you loved me,” Izabela cried.

“I do, Sparrow.” Is what Miranda wanted to say. But instead she swallowed her tongue and grimaced. 

Miranda’s silence was enough of an answer. Izabela’s eternal heart stopped beating. After nearly a millennium of pain and denial it finally shattered; turned to dust inside the void of her chest. She is completely numb now. No amount of pain or happiness could sew her heartstrings back together again.

When Miranda said “A punishment is in order,” Izabela didn’t bat an eye. 

She let Miranda drag her by her hair down to the lower chambers of The Stronghold. Their lycans and lackeys looked at them curiously, but Izabela could hardly bring herself to care. She knew she deserved what’s to come. Miranda has a reputation to hold up after all, can’t have followers see her not punish someone who speaks against her.

Izabela must have disassociated during their walk because the next thing she knows she’s being pushed to the ground in the middle of one of the ceremonial rooms. It used to be a torture chamber before she and Miranda moved in and spruced the place up. They left most of the shackles hanging from the walls and a few spiked chairs to keep the malevolent atmosphere, but the room is largely unused nowadays.

She heard Miranda walk back to the other side of the room and told Izabela not to move. All Izabela could do was stare down at the ground. The rustling sounds of metal captured her attention, but only for a moment, not enough to make her move though. Miranda knelt in front of her and took a hold of her wrists. Cold iron shackles clamped around her wrists and Miranda attached the other end of the small chain to a half circle hook in the stone floor. Her clothing from the waist up is cut off so there is no buffer between her and Miranda. Pointed metal claws tipped her chin up just enough so the two were looking at one another and forced Izabela’s mouth open.

“You deserve this, my Sparrow.”

Miranda carefully removes her stole from her shoulders and wraps it in a tight ball around her fingers until it’s small enough to fit in Izabela’s mouth. The ends of the stole are left hanging so Miranda takes them and ties them in a tight knot behind Izabela’s head, properly gagging her. She ran a hand up and down Izabela’s smooth back a few times and felt goosebumps cover her creamy skin.

[ranchracoon]

Feathers and Blood (Mother Miranda x Fem MC)

The roar of the market is deafening, people haggling the price of spices and garments while blissfully unaware of the secrets lurking further in. In the furthest part of the market is a stand set up at the back of a wagon, the table is lined with various exotic items and dried meats hang from the doors of the wagon. The man behind the table is short and stocky, his belly protrudes from underneath his shirt, the buttons strain to contain the rest. He hands a customer a green bottle with a green cross in the corner and DISINFECTANT in bold, black letters across the top. He takes the money from the customer then turns his attention to an approaching woman, he combs his hand through his hair that is oily enough to power a car.

The approaching woman is tall, taller than any average woman with platinum blonde hair and piercing gray eyes. She parts the crowd with her presence, people give her a wide berth and dare not glance her way. A wolf stalking through a herd of sheep, each one hoping another is chosen as this day's sacrifice. The man flashes her a friendly smile despite her cold, calculating stare unwavering as she halts on the other side of the table. She pretends to examine the artifacts in front of her, picking up an object to look it over before tossing it aside back onto the table.

"Miranda, pleasure to see you as always. What-"

The woman silences him with a wave of her hand but she still doesn't speak, instead she glares until she sees him swallow nervously. She cocks her head to one side, wrapping one arm around her torso and resting her other on top of it. A dark aura surrounds her, the other merchants bring their dull roars to a whisper, sparing glances at the poor man about to face his doom. They've seen her before, whispers of the things she has done, will do, and has yet to do navigate this market quicker than fire during dry season.

"Duke. Do you know why I am here?" The woman asks.

"Because I have all of your needs of course! Have I ever failed to deliver? Everything you want, everything you need, I can get. What is it today?"

"You could not be more incorrect, I am here in regards to my previous purchase. You said, and I quote, 'the most potent substance out there. Untraceable, undetectable, and can bring down a fully grown, bull elephant with a single drop.' Does that sound familiar?"

"Ah yes, the Tetrodotoxin I remember."

"Quiet." She orders, "that pathetic excuse for a toxin could not kill a newborn babe. I intended to kill you when I arrived but I concluded I would not be who I am if I was not fair; so, I'll give you a chance to remedy your mistake, then decide if I'll still kill you or not."

The Duke's eyes flash for a split second with fear, he knows she is true to her word. His eyes dart to the other stands but none of the sellers look his way, this is business as normal. There's a reason this street is nick-named the 'red-bricked road'; there was a time when the stone was pristine, but now sports a dingy, dulled, red from the copious amount of death it has witnessed. He swallows again and tries to think quickly, he's not one to give up money so easily so option 2 it is. He leans over and picks up the green bottle of medicine, sporting it in the air and flashing his best smile.

"This here is the world's most powerful disinfectant. I know someone like you could benefit from it, no matter the ailment this will fix it. It's not just a disinfectant but a cure-all for anything that ails you. The entire case, worth millions can be yours."

A bead of sweat runs down the side of his face, Miranda doesn't bother to look at the bottle but keeps her gaze on him. Normally he's very good at reading people, seeing the wheels turn in their head but not her, she has as much readability as a statue. Then his worse possible fears come true, the tiniest sound, a groan from inside the wagon catches her attention. Any human wouldn't have noticed over the murmuring of the crowds, but Miranda caught it instantly. Her attention targets the wagon, she straightens her head and tilts her chin up toward it, listening, and waiting. Duke stands there, unmoving and hoping she chalks it up to a simple creak, nothing more.

"What's inside the wagon?" She asks.

"What? Nothing. Overstock, my laundry of course, maybe a few mice here and there. Some inventory, trinkets, nothing that would interest you and certainly nothing as valuable as this here-"

"You love to ramble when you lie. Now show me." She interrupts.

He sighs defeatedly, setting the bottle back underneath the table before twisting to the back of the wagon and pulling the curtain back. The sunlight illuminates the interior to expose a woman with her ankles and wrists bound to the flooring. Miranda approaches the back and leans in to get a closer look; she must blink a few times to adjust to how dark it is for the woman blends in with dark flooring and walls. Her only clothing is a torn crop top, and pants with a tube going from her side into a familiar looking green bottle. Miranda scrunches her nose at the smell, it burns with every inhale and she brings her hand to her nose to block it out.

"Release her." Miranda orders.

"With all due respect Miranda, she-"

The Duke didn't finish his sentence before the air around him dissolves, he chokes and coughs to try and breath but there's nothing there. His face turns purple before he drops to his knees and claws at the collar of his shirt, then in a split second the air returns and he sucks in a loud, gasping breath. After a moment of struggling he stands, reaches into his pocket to withdraw a key before heaving himself into the wagon. His weight causes the wagon to lean back and the woman flinches from the sudden intrusion, he pants and grunts as he unlocks the chains then shuffles back out.

"Come out here." Miranda orders.

The woman stretches her legs, flexes her fingers and follows the order, she keeps her head down until she touches the edge of the wagon. She waves her hand blindly, looking for stability before settling on the wall to support her as she swings one leg after the other. Miranda watches the woman intently, seeing her clearly now in the sunlight. She no longer has the tubing in her side but there's a very obvious scar where the tube was but no open wound. Her hair is black and matted, it shields her face from further view so Miranda reaches over to move a large mat aside. The woman looks up and Miranda pauses, her eyes are cat-like yellow in their entirety with two large, black irises. The longer she stands in the sun, the thinner they become until they're thin slits, splitting the yellow down the center. She's an inch or two shorter than Miranda, her skin is darker than any human with speckles of white around her fingers and eyes, she's extremely malnourished but has visible abs and muscles on her arms.

"What's your name?" Miranda asks.

"Inanna." The woman answers.

Duke takes a cloth from his pocket to wipe the sweat away from his forehead when the woman speaks. Miranda's eyebrow cocks for a microsecond before falling to its original place, if the woman's eyes and skin weren't enough then her voice was a dead giveaway that she is not human. Her voice is gravely, most likely from dehydration but it is also low and muffled like someone had put a pillow over a speaker. Miranda cautiously reaches out to examine the woman's face but she startles back, her lips curling and causing her cracked lips to bleed.

Miranda retracts her hand then turns on her heels, "this will suffice."

"You're-wait, you can't take her."

Miranda turns to him warningly, making his swallow and simply nod in understanding as Inanna awaits further instruction. When Miranda turns back around she uses her index finger to signal for her to follow. She follows behind Miranda and stops when she does, Miranda doesn't look at Duke and instead examines her fingernails.

"Tell me Inanna, what would you do to someone who conned you?" She wonders.

"In my culture the punishments are direct reflections of the crime. If I was promised something and given another, I would return the favor." She answers.

"Hm." Miranda responds, mulling it over, "well, Duke here promised me an extremely potent, and rare poison but instead gave me something as common as nightshade. So, I say it's far I do something in return. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I don't care either way."

"Hmph. You're no fun."

With a snap of her fingers, the street below Duke's cart caves in and large, black roots engulfs the entirety before swallowing it below. The street restores itself as if nothing had been there, it happened so quickly that Duke didn't even get the chance to scream before disappearing from sight. Inanna bristles, this woman is obviously far more dangerous than Duke ever was and perhaps it would be in her best interest to behave, or at least play along. Miranda and Inanna cut through the crowd once more, the nearby vendors, swindlers, and customers bow their heads in avoidance. Inanna contemplates running, but after the display she just saw, she doubts she'll make it very far. The second they pass the threshold of the market place, a murder of crows flock around them causing Inanna to flinch away but she doesn't get far before her back strikes a stone wall.

She looks around in a panic, her hands grasping behind her for stability and blinks rapidly to adjust from the brightness outside to a poorly lit room. At least this room has light unlike the wagon. There are anatomy pictures of humans, and various animals strung up on the walls and bookshelves filled to the brim that line the spaces in between; a large workbench stands off to one side with two tables in the center littered with things she's never seen before. Inanna turns around to face the wall she struck, there's floor to ceiling iron bars with only a singular stone pillar in the center. Ianna stepped back from the bars, on the outside she appears calm and collected but, on the inside, she's panicking about being put into another cage. She should have ran when she had the chance.

"Can you read? Write? I know you can speak." Miranda states.

Inanna looks at the woman, she's now wearing what looks like a cloak made from feathers while walking around the room. Her face is covered with a golden bird mask that covers all but her eyes and hoops that reach to her collarbone, she has golden talons on her fingers that she uses to tap against a nearby counter. Inanna says nothing, instead opting to nod her head. She carefully examines her surroundings: she knows there's a cage behind her, but she sees no windows but she does see a door. She has no idea where she is, how she even got here, and she's far too weak to make an escape attempt now but it's good to orient oneself. Although, if this woman can move about wherever, and whenever she pleases then Inanna has no chance against her.

"At least you're literate. That's something I suppose."

Inanna takes mental note, this woman has no idea what she is and perhaps she can use that to her advantage. Inanna watches her pace around the room, anytime she moves too close Inanna scoots further away until she's trapped herself in the corner. Suddenly a cloud of feathers rises and surrounds the woman, when the cloud falls the woman is gone with only the pile of feathers in her place. Inanna peeks out from her corner, scooting across the cold, stone floor she picks up one of the feathers and strokes it between her fingers. It's been so long since she felt something this soft, she nuzzles it into her cheek before the woman appears once more. Inanna snarls and scatters to the nearest wall, clutching the feather to her chest in fear that the woman will take it from her.

Miranda kneels and places a plate with a cup of liquid on the floor, she then stands upright and takes a few steps back from it. Inanna and her stare at each other in silence, waiting for the other to make the first move but Inanna ultimately gives in. She slithers toward the food, crawling on all fours in a similar fashion to a monkey with a broken leg. When she reaches it she grabs the food with her entire fist and shoves it into her mouth then gulps down the liquid all within one go. Then she scurries back to her corner for safety, her eyes never leaving the woman as she does so. Miranda eyes the feather in Inanna's hand but says nothing as she stands there, unmoving, if not for the shallow rise and fall of her shoulders with each breath then Inanna would think she's a statue. After a pregnant pause the woman sighs forcefully.

"What are you?"

Inanna doesn't answer.

"You can answer willingly, or I can force it out of you. Take your pick."

"Excuse me for not being more forthcoming about myself just because you gave me food and water. Given my previous situation, I'm a bit cautious of the information I share and of your intentions. Also, I know nothing about you and you already know my name. It's only fair that I obtain an equal amount of knowledge."

Miranda narrows her eyes briefly, but Inanna cannot tell from the mask blocking the view. Miranda mimics the pose she had earlier, with one arm around her waist and the other tapping away at her chin.

"You can call me Mother Miranda." She finally says.

"Pleasure to meet you Mother Miranda." Inanna responds.

"I do not know what you are, therefore I do not have anything intended for you. However, once I figure that out, trust me, you will be the first to know what I have in store."

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"Then I guess I should extend the first olive branch and tell you that I did spike your food to knock you out so I could experiment on you. However, as you can tell, that didn't work."

"Wouldn't be the first time. Doubt it'll be the last." Inanna retorts.

"If you won't tell me what you are, can you at least tell me how you're able to consume enough flunitrazepam to knock out a fully grown male without so much as a yawn?"

Inanna shrugs, "fast metabolism?"

Miranda huffs in annoyance, "very well. Be like that."

Miranda disappears once again, leaving Inanna alone inside the enclosed room. She sighs heavily, although she wasn't entirely lying about having a fast metabolism the drug that Miranda slipped her did, in fact, work. Not to its full extent, Inanna is coherent enough to at least try the nearby door: locked of course. Then she wanders into the cell to find a cot and curl up onto it with the feather still firmly in her grasp. She wakes to every sound, on high alert for any possible intrusion by Miranda knowing that once she finds out what Inanna is, it'll be over. Perhaps she'll keep her alive like Duke did, or maybe she'll kill her. At this point, Inanna hoped for later.

After a restless few hours Inanna stirs awake to the softest whisper of a breeze, she flings herself up on the cot and flattens herself on the wall. Miranda stands in the open cell with another plate in one hand, a cup in the other, and something draped over the arm holding the glass. She sets the glass and plate on the floor, then tosses a blanket and what appears to be clothes onto the cot. She turns away and strides into the main room, shuffling around some paper and other various items before settling in one spot. Inanna sniffs at the plate curiously.

"It's not drugged. Not this time. Don't shove it all in this time, slow down otherwise you'll choke. No one is going to take it from you." Miranda states firmly.

Inanna picks at the food, her stomach betrays her hunger but she forces herself to eat it slowly to taste for any inconsistency. She drowns the water then scuttles over to the cot, she rummages through the clothing and begins to strip by taking her shorts off first. Miranda has given her some pants, socks, newer looking shoes, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. Inanna picks up a garment with two half cups and some straps, she's never seen something like this before and forgoes it.

"So you're a winged beast."

Inanna whips around, throwing the shirt in her hand only for it to flail onto the ground pathetically. Miranda looks at it then Inanna who stands there shirtless but unashamed, Miranda kneels and picks up the shirt then holds it out. Inanna stands there, eyeing the shirt then Miranda before taking a careful step forward and yanking the fabric away.

"How do you figure?" Inanna asks.

Miranda says nothing and instead her feathered cloak transforms into six black wings that stretch themselves out until they hit the ceiling and floor. No longer in her winged cloak she is now in a long black dress with a white and black piece of fabric around her shoulders, she also has a golden halo behind her head. Inanna hisses softly at the sudden change but stares at the wings, they don't look like traditional feathers; they look flowy, almost water-like while floating in the air and moving on their own. More importantly, Inanna wants to touch them very badly.

As suddenly as they appeared, they reform around Miranda and turn back into her feathered cloak. She stands there expectantly; she gave some information so now Inanna must give something up too. She ponders, how much can she reveal while still keeping her identity a secret. Instead, she'll dance around the subject, she knows what Miranda wants now and she can give her everything but that.

"I do have wings, yes. My name dates back to the Mesopotamian era, and I've been told it was the name of the goddess of the sky."

Miranda hums then leaves the entrance of the cell to return to her work, Inanna finishes dressing then pokes her head out. Once she determines that Miranda isn't moving from her spot she creeps up beside her and slides the feather onto the counter top. Miranda pauses her work and eyes the feather, she chuckles under her breath then scoffs a little.

"What use do I have for a feather?"

"You gave me something so, now I must give you something. This is all I have."

For once, Miranda takes pause. She picks up the feather and examines it, she has thousands of feathers but for some reason, she can't help but stare at this one in particular. She tsks and slides the feather back to Inanna.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

"Thank you." Inanna whispers before taking the feather back and holding it to her chest.

"You're welcome. You're being treated far kinder than I normally would treat the creatures I bring down here. By now you would have been cut open, examined, studied, and maybe I would even try the Cadou on you. However, you fascinate me more and, from how the Duke acted I would say you are very valuable, then perhaps you're better off alive."

"What is a Cadou?"

Miranda's eyes flash for the briefest moment, "want me to show you?"

Inanna nods and the corner of Miranda's mouth cracks into a smile before she turns from her reading and guides Inanna to a nearby cabinet. Miranda kneels down to open it and pulls out a large jar with a fetal looking mass inside. Miranda spends hours explaining what it is, how she created it, why she created it, and Inanna simply listens. Occasionally she asks a question that sends Miranda into another frenzy of excitement, it even gets to the point where Miranda brings out a chalk board and begins to illustrate her points. She shows pictures of past experiments which make Inanna tit her head curiously whereas most people find the graphic, surgical details disturbing.

"I see you're not phased by human experimentation." Miranda comments.

"Why would I? Humans are the reason my species is nearly extinct. Last I heard, there is only about five of us left. Including me."

Miranda contemplates Inanna's words carefully, so she's a winged creature with extraordinary healing capabilities, and her species would be classified as extremely endangered. She changes the subject and proceeds to continue her lecture on how she created the Cadou, how she experiments with it, and most importantly, how she intends to use it. Inanna barely understands any of it, mostly because Miranda keeps using words like: gene, allele, autosomal dominate disorder, and other phrases that Inanna doesn't know. However, she's content listening to Miranda ramble on about whatever it is she's rambling about. Duke barely spoke to her and when he did, it was often a command or order. It wasn't until Inanna yawned that Miranda finally pauses, the feathers on her cloak rustle.

"Oh my...I've been talking at you all day. I'm sure you're hungry."

Inanna eats her food given to her and Miranda bids her goodnight; now that she knows what Miranda is passionate about, she knows how to keep her occupied. Inanna asks questions, and over the next few days, or possibly weeks, it's hard to tell with no clock or windows, Inanna and her fall into a sort of comfortable routine. At one point, Miranda unlocks the door to allow Inanna to use a bathroom instead of a bucket, and to finally bathe. Since then, Miranda hasn't asked Inanna what she is, nor has she bothered to try and learn more about her. Anytime Miranda tries to flip the narrative, Inanna gives her generic answers or answers the question indirectly without giving too much away. Although, Inanna is slowly lowering her walls around the strange, bird woman because she enjoys how excited Miranda gets when speaking about her experiments.

Miranda caught on to how much Inanna enjoys feathers and slowly started leaving various kinds of feathers around her lab for Inanna to find. She sees Inanna stash them underneath her mattress and catches glimpses of her rubbing them against her face. Miranda briefly mentions her daughter, how she passed away and Miranda is trying to get her back. Inanna remains extremely quiet during this part, she fiddles with the bottom of her shirt while Miranda speaks but the conversation is short lived. Miranda doesn't speak to her over the course of a few days and seemingly avoids Inanna altogether by leaving her food, water, and nothing else. When Miranda finally returns to the lab Inanna fiddles with a tube of green liquid, she holds it up to Miranda who hesitantly takes it.

"What is this?" She asks.

"My blood. You shared something very personal with me, it seems only fair I share something with you."

Inanna doesn't bring up her daughter again, but this act seems to appease Miranda and she goes to work studying the blood sample. It's like no blood she's ever seen, or been documented but it shares the same markers as lizards and birds do. Her white blood cell activation is faster than the speed of light which makes her immune to all diseases and why she didn't react to the knock out drug. This is also how she's able to heal to incredibly quickly, and why Duke was selling her blood as a cure-all. It still leaves her with more questions than answers but now she has a new hyper fixation: what is Inanna, and how can she be used to bring back her daughter? Sometimes Miranda forgets Inanna is there until she suddenly pops up and startles the priestess.

It seems her blood sample did more harm than good because Miranda has been obsessing over it for days now and growing increasingly more frustrated. When Miranda seems in an especially sour mood then Inanna reads one of the books on the shelves and sits in her little cell. Today Inanna is stir crazy. She's finished all the books in English that line the shelves, she doesn't know the other languages and instead opts for pacing back and forth. Miranda tells her to knock it off so Inanna finds something else to occupy herself which only irritates Miranda more.

"How about you make yourself useful instead of fiddling with everything like a child!" Miranda snaps out, her hands slamming down on the table.

"Just how do you expect me to do that?"

"Get samples or something. Either help me or get out!"

Miranda points to a tray of empty tubes, Inanna picks them up and looks between the tubes and Miranda. Slowly she backs away toward the door, careful not to drag her feet as she nears it. Every so often she looks at Miranda then the door, this has to be some sort of trick right? She wouldn't let Inanna go freely. Hours pass and Miranda grows more and more frustrated to the point she flings the things in front of her onto the floor. She messages her temples and groans loudly then swivels in her chair to not see Inanna.

Panic sets in, as does the realization that she may have just allowed her most valuable asset to wander free. Miranda flies through the door, she checks every room she passes and every hiding spot in the area before she steps outside. She doesn't make it far before she stops in her tracks, before her is a very, large rainbow dragon. Not like Alcina's dragon; this dragon is more stereotypical with four legs, leathery bat-like wings, a tail that's whipping around, and a gigantic head with two horns that stick up. This dragon shimmers in the sunlight, its scales mimic the reflection of sunlight on water giving it a translucent appearance; and it is currently rolling around in the snow like a dog. It throws itself onto the ground, scrapes its back into the snow then uses its tail to flick it up into the air. It then rolls back over, grabs scoops of snow and throws it into the air so it can prance around.

Miranda clears her throat as the dragon is in midroll in the snow, it freezes with its legs up in the air before it tilts its head upward to look in Miranda's direction. They lock eyes, their golden ones staring back into her dull, gray ones. This has to be Inanna. The forest, once alive with the thumping and crunching of the dragon and the sounds of wildlife, comes to an abrupt halt. Inanna tilts her head and looks off into the distance, Miranda listens carefully but only can make out the soft crunching of footsteps in snow. The dragon flings itself to its feet, and arches its back up, their scales stand up like a cat fluffing its hackles or tail to appear bigger. In fact, the dragon mimics a cat perfectly from the way it twists to expose its side while maintaining the appearance of intimidation. Miranda covers her mouth to smother a laugh, what a sight to see a fully grown dragon with its scales puffed out.

Out of the forest wanders a lynx, it sniffs the ground before making eye contact with the dragon. It copies the dragon by arching its back, puffing its tail, and hissing loudly while the dragon curls up to make itself even bigger before it unleashes an ear-splintering roar. The intensity of it vibrates the nearby trees and makes the birds all take flight at once. The lynx huffs and retreats back into the forest, the dragon shakes its whole body to lower their scales then turns to face Miranda. Before her eyes the dragon shrinks, the wings fold into themselves, and standing there is Inanna.

"Well, that would explain the feathers."

Inanna suddenly makes a sound that Miranda hasn't heard in over a century; laughter. Inanna laughs hard enough that she doubles over while holding her stomach. Miranda raises an eyebrow then smothers another chuckle before settling and hugging herself from the brisk cold. Miranda sighs, she has enjoyed having Inanna around for she didn't realize how socially starved she was. She could easily drag Inanna back down to the lab, force her to stay, and study her further. Miranda didn't know dragons even existed, this would cause so many break throughs in the scientific community and possibly be the answer for bringing her daughter back.

Instead, Miranda returns inside back to her lab, leaving Inanna out in the snow to do as she pleases. She'll probably come to regret this decision, that is until she hears the soft pitter patter of feet inside the lab. An object clatters next to her. A dragon scale the size of her hand shimmers even in the warm lighting. Miranda picks it up to look it over, then rotates to face Inanna who is twiddling her fingers.

"What's this?"

"I read that crows like shiny things."

Miranda can't help it anymore. She throws covers her mouth to try and smother the snort she unleashes while failing miserably.

"Is this because of the horde joke?"

Inanna chuckles, "sort of but also, in my culture giving someone one of your scales is a sign of loyalty and trust because it exposes our underneath. You trusted me with your science stuff and your daughter, and you could have easily taken me even in my dragon form. Yet, you were willing to let me go. It's only fair that I begin to trust you. I...I want you to have this one."

Miranda holds the scale in her hand, "I see why you were hesitant to share with me what you are. Especially after giving me your blood, I could have taken the path Duke did and exploit you."

"Yet, you didn't. Even after you found out about my healing abilities, I'm sorry it causes you so much frustration."

"Hm. Well now that I know what you are, all the pieces are coming together."

There's a long silence between them before Miranda breaks it, "where will you go now?"

"I...I don't know. I don't have anywhere to go."

"What about, other dragons?"

"I told you there's only about 5 left including me. That was...years ago so who knows if they're still alive or not. All I have is my memories but even those are beginning to fade. I haven't seen another dragon since my parents died."

"How old were you?"

"Mentally and physically probably around 6 or 7. I was raised in orphanages until they started to catch on that I didn't age to the same degree then I was old enough to care for myself. That is, until Duke found me. You know the rest."

"You've been without parents...for how long?"

Inanna shrugs, "I lost count after 70 years."

Miranda watches Inanna and reads her body language, how shy and upset it makes her to talk about her parents. Miranda and her are not that far different from each other. While she's been without a daughter and failing at every turn to find a suitable host, there has been a young woman out there without a mother for close to the same amount of time. Miranda places the shell onto the counter next to her then stands from her stool in front of Inanna before she opens her arms with the palms facing out. Inanna looks her over, her initial reaction is to run but forces herself to take step after step until she hits Miranda's chest. Miranda wraps her arms around the girl and tightens until she can't tighten her hold any further.

"Thank you." They whisper to each other simultaneously.

[ranchracoon]

Ch. 2 The Dream

Everything is white. The wind howls wildly and becomes deafening to the point she must cover her ears. The only break in the colorless sea is a blurry black dot. She takes a step forward but sinks into the ground to her mid-calf. Each forward step she takes, she sinks, having to sacrifice her hearing to push out with her arms. She trudges closer until she is nearly on top of it. She brushes away the slurry of flakes around it and picks it up. It's metallic, a pin of sorts. She examines it for only a moment before a bird swoop down to take the pin.

Carmen startles awake on the warm, volcanic rock, jabbing her elbow into a nearby stalagmite. She hisses and cups her elbow into her opposite hand and rubs viciously to try and soothe the pain. After the pins and needles disappear, she wipes her hands over her face and groans lowly. Her whole-body aches from sleeping on the rock, and she's drenched in a layer of sweat and morning mist. She jerks herself to her feet, frantically searching for some indication of the time; a futile endeavor once she realizes there's no clocks. She sprints outside to see the sun already above the horizon. After a quick curse, she drops and becomes one with her wolf form. The freshly brewed dream poured from her mind into the abyss of forgetting.

She sprints down the mountainside toward the center of the island, her heart and breath racing with her feet. Once she is within eyeshot of the central hut, she decreases her speed to a speed-walk while simultaneously shifting back into a human. Carmen sneaks in through the crowd to get her breakfast; easier said than done when everyone else keeps eyeing her with a smirk. She nabs a plate before her mother can see her, and retreats to the safety of her closest friends.

"Well, looks like someone had a late night." Teases Neyla.

Carmen raises an eyebrow in confusion, when Neyla points downward Carmen follows her finger. The realization strikes; she is still in her clothes from last night, and she sweaty. She rolls her eyes and scoffs before bowing her head to hide her face. She swallows the food with minimal chewing, only just realizing how hungry she is as she shoves another mouthful.

"Please tell me you weren't with Tess. You know she's nothing but trouble and you promised!" Begs Diana.

"I wasn't with Tess." Carmen mumbles.

"So then, who were you with?"

"No one."

"Ah. Classic 'sleep it off in a bush.' Been there. Would explain the clothes, but not your late arrival or flustered skin." States Alo.

"I wasn't sleeping in a bush either!" Snaps Carmen.

"Okay there's no need to get snappy." Neyla raises her hands in defense.

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired, I didn't sleep well last night."

"Well, if you weren't in a bush, nor at Tessa's, and didn't sleep well. Where were you? What were you doing?" Asks Diana.

Carmen looks up at them, she chews the inside of her lip before stealing a glance over her shoulder. She sees Ben and Clara sitting and talking with some tías (aunts). She swallows thickly then turns back to her group, all of them looking at her expectantly. After a moment of debating she sighs defeated, they'll find out one way or another.

"I-I went up the mountain." She mumbled.

The three of them scramble closer, screaming out "what?!" In perfect unison. Others glare their way but return to their meals when Carmen shushed them and motioned with her hands for them to sit back.

"What did you see?!"

"Nothing. Just like last time." Carmen said bitterly.

All of their shoulders collapse in disappointment. They look toward the table before Diana reaches out to take Carmen's hand. She retracts from the touch and hugs herself tightly. They say nothing but she can feel their sympathetic stares burning into her, the same stares she gets from everyone else.

"However..." She starts.

They lean over once again, the table squeaking lightly from their collective weight.

"I did have this strange dream but whenever I try to remember it's all fuzzy." She states.

Neyla gasps loudly and slaps her hands on the table. The others startle as Carmen stares at her before her eyes widen and she shakes her head.

"No. I know what you're thinking -"

"We need to see abuela!" She exclaims, cutting Carmen off.

Before Carmen can scurry off Neyla grabs her by the arm forcefully and drags her off. They make a pit stop at Carmen's home so she can change and look presentable. Abuela is very particular when it comes to how one represents themselves, and Carmen is the exact opposite of that expectation. She has to wear long sleeves and pants to cover her full-length tattoos, and hide her newest addition. She takes some soft nipple pads to put over her nipple piercings then wears a padded bra instead of a sports bra.

After she changes, she takes some concealer to hide the smaller tattoos behind her ears. Her neck tattoo and hands take the longest to cover, she has to make sure the makeup is blended well and unnoticeable. She does a once over to ensure everything is covered and that her piercings aren't visible. The final part is she removes the piercings from around her ears, leaving the studs on the bottom in. Then she begrudgingly wears closed toed shoes. She feels claustrophobic as she picks at her clothes to loosen then from her skin. It does very little to appease her.

Carmen only attempted to escape once but Neyla beat her to the punch by waiting for her outside her bedroom window. They walk together toward the southern side of the island where their elders like to gather to share stories, play games, and watch the littles. Carmen grumbles under her breath, it's not that she doesn't like her abuela but she knows exactly how to get under Carmen's skin. Unfortunately Neyla is correct, if anyone can help her with her dream it's their abuela. The front of the community center is completely open with tables and chairs out on the patio. Little kids run around in the grass, some of them are in their pup forms unable to transition on their own.

Carmen waves to the attendant who smiles back and points toward the hallway leading toward the central gardening area. The garden is where rare and endangered plants are kept in prestine condition. For some, this island holds the last of their species. In the center is abuela, she's hunched over a smaller bed of germinating seeds. Carefully replanting them using surgical like tools to avoid crushing the delicate pods. She looks up and smiles widely, after setting her tools aside she stands and hugs Neyla.

"hola mis amores. ¿Qué te trae por aquí?" (Hello my loves. What brings you here?)

"Hola abuela, en realidad vinimos a verte-" (hi grandma, we actually came to see you-) Neyla starts.

"¿Carmen finalmente encontró a su pareja? No pensé que esto sucedería mientras aún estaba viva." (has Carmen finally found her mate? I didn't think it would happen while I was still alive.)

Carmen groans and rolls her eyes while crossing her arms. Neyla hits her on the arm to knock it off but it's too late. Their abuela scoffs and takes off her hat. She waddles over to the gardening shed to put her tools away for the day, while they follow her.

"Ah clásico. Sabes que esa actitud es la razón por la que aún no has encontrado pareja y esos tatuajes. No creas que no sé nada de ellos. Las chicas hablan, ¿sabes? Nunca conseguirás que un hombre luzca así."(ah classic. You know that attitude is why you haven't found a mate yet, and those tattoos. Don't think I don't know about them. The girls talk you know. You'll never get a man looking like that.)

Carmen trembles, she wants to leave so badly but Neyla puts a reassuring hand on her arm. Their abuela does this every time, has done it since Carmen failed the first time. At first she could be the bigger person and ignore it, but it's really starting to get under her skin. All the passive aggressive comments about her weight, her attitude, her body. She huffs and sucks in a sharp breath to calm herself.

"Por eso vinimos a verte abuela. ¡Carmen lo intentó de nuevo y vio algo en la piscina! Sin embargo, necesita un poco de ayuda porque no podía distinguir qué era." (That's why we came to see you grandma. Carmen tried again and saw something in the pool! She needs a little help though because, she couldn't quite make out what it was. )

Neyla splurged on the details a little but it was enough for their abuela to gasp loudly. She hobbles excitedly from the garden to her room where she digs through an ancient looking chest. She takes out a book, some candles, and a string of wooden beads. She motions for them to follow her, and she leads them from the community center to their burial site to the far west.

Their burial site is not a mound full of headstones, rather an exquisite plant and flower garden beside the mountain. Every person is buried with their choice of flower, and the path is marked on each side with moonflowers to guide the souls onward. In the base of the mountain, there's a man-made cavern where an ofrenda wraps around the inside so those who no longer have family will always be remembered. Two elderly women are inside keeping the candles lit and praying to the goddess. They leave upon the arrival of the trio, carving a path through the Cempasúchils that blanket the floor.

Neyla waits outside as their abuela orders Carmen to lay in the center. She lights her candles, mumbles a prayer to their ancestors and goddess for guidance. Then she opens her book and chants another prayer before ordering Carmen to close her eyes.

Everything is white again, but she makes out the horizon in the distance. The sky darkens to night but she can still see clearly. The wind howls wildly once more, surrounding her in a flurry of white specks. It's snow. She hugs herself, now feeling the biting cold sink into her bones. She takes a step forward but sinks into the ground to her mid-calf. Each forward step she takes she sinks, but she keeps moving toward the black dot. She trudges closer until she can reach out and pick it up, this time clutching it close but there's no bird.

She examines it closer, it's diamond shape, with a full bloomed flower in the center with two rapiers crossing behind it. She brushes her thumb over the design, committing the feeling to memory. A laugh catches her off guard, she looks up and sees...a woman? She's more bird than woman. The entire body is wrapped in feathers, and she's wearing some sort of golden, bird- like mask. The woman laughs loudly and dissolves into a murder of crows all gunning for Carmen.

Carmen startles again, this time sitting up violently as all the candles surrounding her blow out. Her abuela clutches her chest in fright, falling backward onto her butt. Neyla runs in to help as Carmen breaths heavily. She has to draw that symbol before she forgets. Although, she can't draw to save her life but she knows someone who can.

Carmen shifts and takes off without a word to Neyla or abuela. She's ten times faster in her wolf form, running full speed and barely avoiding those walking around. She comes to a screeching halt and shifts back when she gets to her destination. The tattooist. The parlor is a gazebo made from the trunks of palm trees with the branches and leaves woven to make the canopy. There's a large, extremely built man, covered in more tattoos than her. He's bald with every visible inch of his skin covered in ink or piercings. He looks up from his drawing and smiles widely.

"Carmen!!!" He bellows.

He hugs her tightly and lifts her off the ground with a spin. He sets her down on the ground and holds his hands on his hips.

"What can I do for you Chica? Judging from the getup and make up, you just visited the abuelas and abuelos."

"Yeah. I'll tell you all about it but I need your help." She pants. 

Carmen and the man sit underneath the canopy where he flips his pad to a fresh paper and listens to her tale. She tells him about her dream, forgoes the part about going up the mountain, and that she, unfortunately, had to seek help from her abuela but now needs help drawing something from her dream. He listens intently as she describes the pin in as much detail as she has the words for, only making minor changes when he shows her a finished product. Then she describes the bird mask the woman was wearing; it was gold with a long beak that goes past her neck with the entirety covering her face with golden strings attached from the beak to the mask. He finishes the drawing for both pieces and hands her the paper with the final products. They're perfect. 

"Gracias Aleki! This is perfect." She praises.

"Not a problem. Anything for you Carmen. What do you plan on doing with them?" He asks.

There was only one thing she could do: she had to find out what this symbol stood for. After a brief conversation with Aleki, she makes her way to the library where she settles down behind one of the few computers the island has. The internet takes ages, hence why she wrote letters to Ben instead of emails, because the letters would get there faster. While she waits for the computer to turn on, and load, she begins her search with books. She starts with family crests but there's not much outside of the island's history of notable families. By the time the system loads, she continues her search into crests having a feeling that's the right track.

Nothing. 

She huffs in defeat but then sits up and hits her forehead as a stupid idea comes to her: image searching. She scans the drawing and uploads it into an image finder for anything similar in design. Then she sees the exact replica after countless minutes of scrolling. She clicks the image and follows a trail of links until she comes upon a review website that she reads aloud. 

"Dimitrescu wines, the finest wine made in the heart of Europe. For hundreds of years the Dimitrescu family has cultivated award winning wine for all tastes. Their most popular line having rich notes of - "

Carmen stops reading and switches her search into this Dimitrescu family but only finds how to purchase the wine and more reviews. She sits back in her seat and sighs. She's happy that she at least has a name and a starting point, but also defeated that Dimitrescu might not be real with how limited information there is. One thing she does know, is she has to go to Europe which makes her groan in despair. She hates the cold. 

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[ranchracoon]

Ch. 5 The Castle

She has two options: run back to the hotel room and forget all of this or go forward and try to get the answers to her dreams. The creature from before helps her decide by coming out from behind the tree line. It's hunched, covered in fur but walks on two legs, it has tattered on clothing like a bad werewolf costume. Only this creature foams and drools from the mouth. Carmen hunches down ready to attack, she mistakenly takes a step back to brace and finds the ground caving from beneath her. She falls down the embankment and lands with a hard thud on the dirt, she shakes herself off and scrambles for cover. Great, now what is she going to do? She pokes her head out to find the creature is not following her down, that's a good sign at least. Now, she can either stay in her wolf form and get attacked by whoever lives here or change back into human and get attacked by whomever lives here. She can hide easier as a human. 

She finds a cloak hanging from a clothing line and snags it, using it to cover her face and body. It also keeps her warm but she deeply regrets not wearing the boots Clara got her. The snow and mud seeps through the canvas of her shoes instantly. She shivers and bundles herself tighter as she weaves around the few people who are staggering around. She catches mumblings but doesn't bother to stop and listen for clarity until she finds herself near the center of the village, at least, she thinks it is.

She smells the air, other than shit and mud, she doesn't smell much else. Maybe she should try to listen with her other senses. Carmen steps off to the side and closes her eyes. Her wolf is going crazy inside, her mate has to be nearby but there's something else in the village that she can't pinpoint. She can't feel any connection to her goddess, as if something or someone is blocking her out entirely. She feels cut off and alone. Carmen snuggles the cloak around her impossibly tighter as people look her way, she lowers her head.

Carmen sighs, she has to keep moving before someone notices she doesn't belong. She begins following people discretely; one person leads her to a shop, another leads her to the graveyard where something screams at her to stop. She looks around, only seeing headstones and a giant stone mural. Her mind tells her to turn around but her body compels her forward toward the wall. She reaches out her hand and traces the depiction of a faceless thing with large horns and wings. It's holding the body of something in its clutches. Next to it is a faceless woman in a dress with a sword above her, and a shield with the face of a goat in front of her. Carmen traces the empty slots where clearly something circular is missing. The rest of the picture?

"Hey! Get away from there!"

Carmen startles and looks over to an elderly man approaching. He has the look of horror upon making eye contact and Carmen instantly turns and flees. She has to get through this wall, but it's locked tight. Option b it is. She loses the cloak and shifts mid run, her body exploding into her wolf. People run and scream, clutching their children and hiding in buildings. She finds a closed gate ahead, perfectly in line with the stone wall. The gate gives her chills; it has two golden circles on each door with a fetus looking mass in the middle and two outstretched black wings. Carmen can use that. She charges, jumps up, lands on the gate and pushes off to propel herself over the fence.

She lands almost perfect. Her front paws hit the ground but her back lose traction in the mix of snow and mud. Carmen huffs and stands up, shaking herself off and looking up at the imposing castle. Her heart is racing and her tail is wagging, this is where her mate is! She's sure of it. After so long, perhaps whatever is blocking Carmen from connecting to her Goddess is also the reason she hasn't reached her mate. But, why now? As she wanders around, she crosses a moat, climbs up another stone wall, and finally, she finds what looks to be a vineyard only to hear voices.

She ducks into some brush, her ears perked forward to listen. Carefully she scoots on her belly until her muzzle and eyes are exposed. There are a few women in the vineyard dressed in thick winter clothing, they're working on something, but she can't tell what. After waiting for however long, the three women hoist up what appears to be a scarecrow. Carmen narrows her eyes and upon closer inspection finds that it is in fact, an armless, legless, torso of a man. His head is tilted to one side with his mouth hung open. 

What. The actual. Fuck.

This is where her mate is? What if her mate is one of those women? What if her mate is being tortured? She has to get them out of here! Carmen uses all her restraint to stay put while the women huddle together and go inside the castle through two, thick double doors. She waits a little while longer, another shiver coursing through her from the cold. After it seems safe, she slunks down and approaches the doors, shifting back she quickly opens and closes the door as quietly as possible.

She lets out a soft sigh of relief at the rush of warmth that greets her. She walks up the steps and briefly admires the painting of three Victorian looking women. Triplets from the looks of it. Perhaps the daughters of whomever owns this castle, or the owners themselves. Carmen quietly goes through another door, down a hallway and takes a right. She tries these large double doors to find them locked, so she continues down the hallway. Whoever lives here definitely has a richer taste than she does.

The carpet is ornate carpet is intricately designed with reds and golds. The molding of the ceiling is gold, there are pillars and paintings on every wall. This is exactly how she pictured a castle would look like, and now she suddenly feels guilty from the mud she's tracking in and currently stuck to her clothing. Carmen comes to another turn and ends up in a large room with two doors on the left, a wide, short, staircase to the right, and another door in front of her. So many doors.

Carmen walks carefully toward the middle only to hear footsteps approaching. She doesn't have time to hide before a woman wearing a long black dress appears at the top of the stairwell. She's carrying a tray, and she freezes upon seeing Carmen. Carmen makes a shushing motion with her finger, but the woman drops the tray and screams.

"Intruder!"

"Shit!" Carmen curses.

She runs for the nearest door; it's unlocked and leads down another hallway. This one leads to a seating area; the fireplace is roaring with life with two love seats facing each other. Carmen sees another set of doors, this one has got to lead somewhere, right? But before she can go there, hundreds, if not thousands of insects appear in front of the door. Carmen stumbles backward as the mass takes shape into another woman. This one is also wearing a black dress, but hers is more maintained with woven designs in the fabric. She's also wearing jewelry; a black choker, with a large red gem in the center, and from that is a necklace wielding three different types of daggers and a green, elongated gem. She has black hair, and her mouth is dripping in a red substance. The woman giggles wildly and she holds up a sickle in her leather gloved hand.

"Oh fuck no." Carmen mutters.

She takes off the way she came, she bursts through the doorway and takes a left up the stairs. She narrowly avoids the broken class and deep red liquid that was spilled before. This leads to another living room, with a winding staircase to the left and a fireplace on the right. This is from her dream! She recognizes the doors ahead, and the furniture. Just as before, a mass appears to form into another woman only she has blond hair.

"Where are you going little one?" She calls.

Carmen realizes she has to look up. She's at least 5' 10" (178cm), how tall are these women? Carmen goes to run up the stairwell, but she's corned by the black-haired woman. They trap her by using inhuman strength to capture her arms. She struggles and yanks, they certainly hold her but struggle to do so. One of them brings down their heel on the back of her leg, forcing her down onto one knee. She growls lowly and tries to shift out of their grip but is stopped when she hears loud, clicking heels nearby. Carmen pauses her attempt at escape to look toward the double doors, a sudden wave of DeJa'Vu washing over her. 

The doors fly open, and she sees nothing but a large black hat, and two long arms with black leather gloves on the hands. The person is hunched over and walking through the doorway before they stand upright in the room. Carmen's eyes widen, this is the woman! The woman from her dream, and from the portrait! Her wolf is ecstatic! Mate!

She's over 9ft tall, wearing a cream-colored dress that hugs her curves. She has black curls that poke out from underneath her hat, her eyes are piercing and gold, with blood red lipstick painted on. The woman rests her fists on her hips, looking down at Carmen. Carmen can't help but stare up in awe at her, she probably has a dumb ass looking grin on her face too. After all these years..

"Look mother!" One girl says.

"We captured the intruder!" The other states.

"Very good daughters. Now, let's see what this intruder wants."

Carmen's smile fades when the woman raises one hand and flexes, long sharp claws extend out. 

"No wait!" Carmen yelps. 

"Speak." The lady demands. 

"My name is Carmen Rojas, I didn't mean to come in uninvited I swear. I was just trying to get out of the cold and well, I stumbled here by accident-"

"I don't have time for lengthy explanations. Tell me what you want." The woman orders. 

"You. You're my mate." Carmen squeaks. 

The two women holding her arms erupt in laughter, one of them doubles over and holds their stomach. The woman scrunches her nose and scoffs down at her, Carmen's face heats up and turns red all the way down her neck and to her ears. 

"This one must not be very bright." One of them cackles. 

"Don't let Daniela near this one." The other quips. 

"Enough." The woman orders, retracting her claws. 

She kneels over and grabs Carmen by the neck, hoisting her up to eye level. Her legs swing frantically as she grabs onto the leather glove to try and support herself and keep from being choked. 

"I don't know who you think you are, but I know exactly what to do with your kind. You think you're the first to come here and try this? Pathetic. Bela, take this vermin down to the cellar and wash her off. Put her to work until I can contact Mother Miranda. She'll decide what to do with you."