#strangefable writes

[katsigian]

── .✦ my favourite picrew ✦. ──

I realized it's been well over a year since I first made some OCs in this picrew [♡] and figured it was time for an update ☺️ as always, tags are below the cut and I'm excited to see everyone's versions!

─ ⁺ 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒍𝒂𝒘 / 𝒗𝒂��𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆 / 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔 - he's grinning because he just got into a good ol' messy bar fight, won it, and now his husband is loving up on him. What reason is there not to grin after getting a little violent for a fun on a Friday night. That's one happy, combative, blood-splattered boy.

─ ⁺ 𝒆𝒊𝒎𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒏 / 𝒇𝒂𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆 / 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒓 - fiesty, spirited, and sweet, eimhin (aye-veen) has no problem bringing in customers to his gardens. He specializes in growing exquisite fruits and flowers, often walking around with said flowers in his hair.

─ ⁺ 𝒗𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒍𝒂𝒘 / 𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆 / 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 + 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆 - vesper goes through phases with his appearance that coincide with each album he and his group write/release. He loves the pink on himself so much that he's considered keeping it permanently. He also loves heart shaped things [and vaguely bdsm things].

─ ⁺ 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒐 '𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒊' 𝒊𝒗𝒚 / 𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆 / 𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒄 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 - kaito is the picture of serenity and confidence and having the gift of foresight helps greatly with that. From the vampire genus 'sybilia', he often receives messages/warnings in the form of butterflies.

─ ⁺ 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒂 / 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 / 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑺𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 - if there are two things Halo loves it's books and gay little earrings. The third thing he loves is righteous violence but I'll have to save that for a different picrew. [and some of his freckles really do have a sort of star shape to them!]

─ ⁺ 𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒅 '𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒏' 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒗 / 𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆 / 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒂 - being both the leader of a criminal organization and Valen's closest friend means that Reid can get a little messy himself sometimes. Just another day of the week for him. Plus, he likes it. Two peas in a pod or whatever.

Taglist [♡] feel free to opt in or out ♡ as always, there's no pressure to interact with this post if you're not interested in it, if it doesn't involve a fandom you're in, or if you don't have the energy/time - there'll be no hard feelings!

Part 1: @opaleyedprince @adelaidedrubman @ronqueesha @wormskul @cloudofbutterflies92 @archonfurina @inafieldofdaisies @yharnams @risingsh0t @noirapocalypto

@florbelles @deadrlngers @rindemption @vanoefucks @genocidalfetus @whitebalverines @suntamer @theelderhazelnut @thefrostyshepard @strafethesesinners

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@vivanightcity @estevnys @leota-nexus @silkcrows @sorryiliketoscreenshot @anoramactir @roguette @harellan @theloverstemperance @elligatorrex

[josephseedismyfather]

six sentences/last line

Thank you to @noodlecupcakes, @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @simplegenius042, and @cassietrn for thinking of me over the last week or two for either the 6 sentence and/or last line tag!!! 🥰 Sorry for the delay!

I have been working on Chapter 3 of Afflicted, pretty pleased with the progress and am actually thinking it will be done soon-ish. Happy to be writing again!

First run, unedited.

Afflicted.

Harley hesitated, eyes narrowing. “You can’t just land helicopters in people’s yards!” “You didn’t read the fine print on your closing docs,” Adelaide said breezily. “Clause 7B: Surprise visits may include rotorcraft. Now come on sugar. Don’t make me beg. I’ll like it too much.”

Opt-in/out of tag list here.

@wrathfulrook, @trench-rot, @vampireninjabunnies-blog, @redreart, @hotmessteaparty

@g0dspeeed, @buggknife, @insanityofvaas, @malefiquinn, @strangefable

@chazz-anova, @aristomal, @ocdemon-747, @evilvvithin, @carlosoliveiraa

@la-grosse-patate, @omen-speaker, @grimmylover7, @scorpionsleeps

@cloudofbutterflies92, @gh0stysarts, @direwombat, @raresvtm, @simonxriley

@strafethesesinners, @lady-ephemeral, @shellibisshe, @biheinrixvancalox

[imogenkol]

— WIP WEDNESDAY

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @socially-awkward-skeleton @neonshrike @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @florbelles @adelaidedrubman @tommyarashikage @simonxriley @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @loriane-elmuerto @shellibisshe @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @g0dspeeed @strangefable @statichvm @jacobseed @cptcassian @euryalex @auricfog @confidentandgood @e-the-village-cryptid @belladelamorte @minaharkers @elligatorrex

I physically cannot stop myself from writing about them even though I planned to take a break until s2 so here’s a lil bit of angst (warning for panic attack/ptsd)

For as cold as her hands always were, Bix found it refreshing when Imogen reached up and cupped her face. It felt like a splash of cool water that awakened her senses, which would have been jarring if not for the gentle fade into a comforting warmth that immediately followed and settled in her chest.

Imogen tenderly ran a thumb along the line of her jaw, curving around the shape of her chin and coming to rest on the other side so that she delicately held the mechanic’s jaw in one hand while the other pulled her in closer by her waist. Bix felt a flutter and leaned into the touch, shutting her eyes.

That was a mistake.

As soon as she did, she felt Imogen tighten her grip ever so slightly. Not enough pressure to be assertive—certainly not enough to hurt at all, but without any warning Bix saw a flash of Dedra Meero’s face. For the first time in months, she felt the ISB supervisor’s unyielding grip on her jaw, forcing her head up when Bix lacked the strength to meet her gaze as she interrogated her.

In an instant, the temperature in Bix’s body dropped. Her hands went numb. Her ears rang. The world lurched. Overwhelming panic caused her to flinch away from her lover and she instinctively shoved Imogen back because she could not bear any contact for a second longer.

“No!” Bix said in a voice so shrill that it hardly sounded like her own.

Imogen took a step towards her as she retreated, but Bix held a hand up and stammered before the bounty hunter got a word out.

“Don’t—don’t touch me, I—“ Bix struggled to form her thoughts as her heart thundered against her ribcage like it was trying to break free. Even through the abrupt hysteria, she saw the deeply concerned look on Imogen’s face and felt a flush of remorse on top of it all. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s not you, I just…”

“You should take a seat,” Imogen calmly suggested. “Breathe.”

Bix shook her hands in an effort to regain some feeling in them and took measured breaths that trembled in and out of her lungs. She did not want to sit. Or perhaps she did, but her body wouldn’t let her. Honestly, she didn’t know what she wanted or what she needed other than this feeling to stop.

Bix shut her eyes again and saw Doctor Gorst’s sickening smile.

The unrelenting wave crashed into her once more, threatening to knock Bix off her feet no matter what she thought she did or didn’t want. The mechanic groaned and began to pace in a small circle, mumbling a quiet mantra to herself as she fought against the tears constricting her throat and welling in her eyes. “I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m okay…”

Imogen stood still and patiently waited in silence for the moment to pass. Bix was grateful. As much as she wanted to be enveloped by her embrace or hear her voice, everything felt too paralyzing.

When the edges of her vision went black, Bix somehow found her way to the edge of a chair and fell into it. The metal legs scraped and squeaked against the floor, but she barely registered any other sound besides her own heartbeat. Bix focused on it, on the acute sensation of blood racing through her veins. She marked the path from her heart to the tips of her fingers until there was a tingle in her now clammy palms.

Gradually, her breaths grew steady and she felt cool. Not the uncomfortable coldness that felt like she plunged into a frozen lake, but the same kind of relaxed chill that came from her lover’s touch and grounded her. After another minute of breathing — or two or three, she couldn’t quite tell how much time passed — Bix felt her emotions level out into a much more stable state, allowing her muscles to finally release their relentless tension.

“Okay.” Bix nodded and released a sigh until every last bit of air had been pushed out of her lungs. Then she sat back in the chair and inhaled deeply, nodding again. “Okay.”

“Would you like me to leave?” Imogen asked.

Her lover’s voice snapped Bix back into focus. She glanced over and noted that Imogen remained a dutiful statue, not approaching nor making any sudden movements. The woman still wore a worried frown, gray eyes bright with anticipation as she waited for an order.

“No.”

“Do you need me to leave?”

The distinction was an important one, Bix realized, so she took a moment to think about it. Ultimately, as the storm passed, Bix felt empty – deprived, and found herself craving contact as if she were dying of thirst and being presented with a crystal clear river that flowed only for her.

Bix extended her hand and Imogen accepted the wordless invitation back into her space. However, even standing before her, the bounty hunter made no effort to reinitiate touch. Bix smiled warmly as she realized Imogen was following her lead.

With a hand that still had a slight tremble, Bix reached out and wrapped her fingers around Imogen’s wrist. Their eyes remained locked as Bix placed her lover’s palm on her flushed cheek and tilted her head into it until Imogen caressed her. To test herself, the mechanic closed her eyes. Her jaw tightened almost immediately as she felt the threat of panic trickle back in, but she focused on the soft brush of a familiar thumb against her skin. Reminded herself who it belonged to.

“You are safe,” Imogen murmured in a soothing tone as she continued to stroke her cheek.

Bix wanted to believe her more than anything. Maybe one day she would.

[the-silver-chronicles]

2025 Year Of The OTP June Prompts: “Misconstrued” [Boa Lurking In The Bliss ft. The Baptist and the Quokka & The Fox and the Solider]

Tagging @josephseedismyfather @inafieldofdaisies @noodlecupcakes @imogenkol @direwombat @voidika @raresvtm @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @josephslittledeputy @cassietrn @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @cloudofbutterflies92 @derelictheretic @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @yokobai and @chazz-anova + anyone else who'd like to join.

June prompts based on this Year Of The OTP fandom event. Tackling these prompts: Pride, "I can't get you out of my mind" and Relationship Reveal.

Sharing the June Oneshot here, but alternatively can be found on my AO3 here.

Also attempts were made making this "Crack Treated Seriously" without taking it too serious myself.

Had to redo a whole segment here due realizing it was No Joseph June and I was committed to seeing that through. So John POV for the second POV segment instead!

This one includes multiple POVs that originally would have gone through Jacob, John, Nadi, Alexander before ending with Silva, but unfortunately got stuck with Writer's Block while writing John's segment, so settled for Jacob, John and then Silva's segments. Which unfortunately means no Nadi trying to get John off the conspiracy train and into a full night's rest, as well as no Alexander relaxing with Jacob as the ginger talks about Silva being some kind of master manipulator like Paul.

This oneshot specifically takes place in my Daylight AU (named after David Kushner's song, because that's the main song I think of when thinking about Silva and Paul's relationship), where instead of escaping the Archipiélagos with Elsa and an infant Persephone (while getting separated from Paul and believing him dead), Silva escapes with Paul, and both make their way into Montana, believing themselves the sole survivors of the Tumultite Massacre.

One major change from this is that Silva and Paul have only gotten closer (since in this AU Paul didn't start a cult and murder Silva's first daughter), and since Paul never founded the Apostles of Zachariah, Silva doesn't get in a fight with any of Paul's heralds (specifically Nashira and Fyredel, the former who used her mechanized whip to tear a chunk of skin off of Silva's front right shoulder and the latter who used his flamethrower to burn at the back of Silva's left shoulder... details only relevant to the now cut smut portion), and therefore doesn't have as much trauma, moral principles and scars as she does in her actual canon.

This is yet another oneshot that was originally intended to be a smut fic, but Writer's Block caught me, so decided to save the smut for a later time.

Anyway, enjoy reading below the cut or above in the AO3 link!

Title: Misconstrued

Series: The Silver Chronicles

Pairing: Boa Lurking In The Bliss (Silva Omar/Faith Seed) ft. The Baptist And The Quokka (John Seed/Nadi Sinclair) & The Fox And The Soldier (Alexander Khaos/Jacob Seed)

Prompts: June – Pride, “I can’t get you out of my mind” and Relationship Reveal.

Genre: Crack treated (somewhat) seriously. Romantic Fluff.

AU?: Daylight

Words: 7,593

A warm breeze had swept over the Whitetail Mountains, reaching the open doors and windows of the St. Francis Veteran Centre, a morning prelude to a hot day ahead.

Fortunately, though the Montana summer often reached unbearably high temperatures, today seemed to promise a tolerable heat.

Jacob looked out from the balcony of the old hospital, arms crossed as he supervised his Chosen as they wandered the courtyard doing various activities; target practice, handling the judges, training recruits, stocking up supplied and other menial tasks meant to further the Project’s numbers, resources and armoury. Not a sign of weakness spotted in sight.

The eldest Seed turned his attention from them to the distant horizon, basking in the rays of the sun, exhaling a rare, satisfied sigh. Things seemed to be going according to his brother’s plan, at least ever since Palmer abandoned their alliance, which wasn’t much of a setback, considering the Armoury was close to completion anyway.

Ready to house a thousand warriors – those Chosen who’d proven they had what it took to protect the Family, whether it was now or in the New Eden. A legacy to be proud of, he’d been told. Jacob wouldn’t go that far, at least not yet, but he couldn’t deny to himself that… the feeling was close.

There shouldn’t have been anyway for this tranquil moment to be interrupted.

“Oh Jacob~!”

The man in question inhaled deeply, before exhaling slowly, holding on to the peace as the familiar voice behind him beckoned for his attention, refraining from reaching for his holster.

“You know what month it is, Jacob?” the distinctively southern accent of the grating voice pushed itself further into the back of Jacob’s skull, like racking knuckles against the door in a unique pattern.

Reminding himself, once again, that he can’t just gun down and cull his best soldier, the only worthy option to stand by his side, for the loss ridiculously outweighed the gains, Jacob kept his arms cross as he did the bare minimum of acknowledging his close confidant with a slight turn of his head.

Despite giving no answer to his question, his Chosen Extraordinaire decided to answer it himself, likely wearing a grin that rivalled John’s as he stated, “It’s Pride Month…”

Jacob remained silent, giving no reaction towards the month’s title. Not because he was confused, or uninformed, or disdainful, or a number of things that had to do with the connotations behind the month itself, but simply because he was waiting for this specifically irksome subordinate to get to the fucking point.

“You know what that means, Jacob…” he heard the voice creep closer, followed by methodical steps.

The phrasing behind his words were not posed as a question, that much Jacob had learned by now. And true to what his right hand knew, he did know what the month meant

“It means it’s opportune time for us to pick up new recruits!” Alexander Khaos declared behind him, causing Jacob to huff.

The ginger glanced behind him to stare down the grinning light brunette. Out of all the Chosen he picked out to train, he had the misfortune for having this one being the most coherent and skilled without the extreme loyalty.

For a while, the two remained like that. The short distance between them emanated an awkwardness which seeped into the air, and Alexander’s irritating grin began to falter into a thin mouthed neutrality as he added, “Orders from the Father.”

Jacob figured that to be the case.

Soon he returned his gaze back to the morning horizon; knowing that if his brother was too busy to make appearances at such events, then it’ll be up to him and John… and likely Faith, to go in his place. Most likely to Fall’s End, if prior years were to prove.

…It would probably be a good idea to take Alexander out. Let him stretch his legs, socialize with strangers, burn through all that gremlin energy so the herald wouldn’t have to deal with it when they returned to St. Francis.

The only downside was the event would require him to be standing around to oversee the recruitment process and ensure Alexander doesn’t compromise the Project’s values and rules.

…He’ll probably take McCalkin with him too; someone will need to get work done, especially if John takes Sinclair with him.

-----

John sat on the table stand’s top as he observed the parade, his beloved jacket occupying the seat as his blue eyes cooly monitored how his brothers and sisters set out to recruit the attendants to the Project.

Plenty of people who caught his eye held varying levels of intrigue, and of sins for him to uncover. The bonus was that many of men and women he saw were pleasing to the eyes, though he’d never admit that aloud lest someone (like his brothers) mistook that as a sign of temptation.

The day had been progressing slowly, but not without its fruits.

He couldn’t help but be impressed by the efforts put into the parade; over the course of the years he’s spent in Hope County, he’s witnessed these celebrations be challenged relentlessly by campaigns organized by rather narrow-minded individuals, like a certain wannabe senate candidate. Glancing about now, he couldn’t really see any sign of such naysayers.

He also couldn’t see where Nadi skipped off to either. He assumed she was recruiting converts, but he also knew she was quite… distractable, when blending in.

Especially so, now that she would be in the heart of the temptations of consumerism; the very root of her sin, Greed, that he’s spent almost a decade unburdening her from. He wouldn’t claim taking her here to be a test though, as she already had his full confidence.

It was merely a way to reaffirm her tolerance from the materialistic woes of corporations taking advantage of the creative and honest efforts of the parade to make a buck by displaying thinly veiled support.

He scowled at the thought of some faux smiling sponsor attempting to entice Nadi’s sin and pondered on the ways he could expose their vices and humiliate them for poisoning a sweet and passionate soul like Nadi’s.

But he let in a collected inhale and a gradual exhale, calming his flaring temper. He had to remind himself that Nadi could handle herself and had come a long way from the broken shell she’d once been.

Even if she were to fall, he’d do as he always had; pick her right back up from the depths of her shame, support her towards Atonement, and try again. Nadi held much promise, and he wouldn’t give her up after the years spent recovering her spirit.

He filed away his thoughts when he spotted a familiar ginger and brunette, as well as McCalkin, making their way over to his little stand.

“Couldn’t come any later, could you, brother?” John remarked with a smile, though it held no malice towards his oldest brother.

“Made it, didn’t I?” Jacob retorted back, observing the passersby before asking, “How’s progress?”

John slid off the table, choosing to stand alongside stone-faced brother, passing by Alexander and McCalkin as the two stood by the stand, filling him in, “Slow. I’ve got my men and women out selecting worthy converts, or letting the sinners know that despite preconceived notions, Eden’s Gate is welcome to all, regardless of difference, to those willing to attend a service.”

Jacob gave a nod, “Any bites?”

John was hesitant but gave a nod, “Somewhat. Most have strayed away from the stand, but Nadi and those I’ve sent out have attained a few interested marks, or so they’ve reported. Most seem focused on the celebration though.”

John noticed Jacob gazing out to the crowds, though specifically noticing his eyes narrowed on a few Fall’s End residents on the outskirts sending not-so subtle glares towards them, the stand and the project’s cross.

“Or perhaps the doubtful have spread enough lies to dissuade potential converts,” Jacob noted, and John didn’t disagree. Word of mouth had been quite the effective method used by the sinners to persecute Eden’s Gate and hindered their ability to sway more of the populace.

“It’ll be a slow process this year,” John muttered with a huff, Jacob merely humming in agreement.

A moment of comfortable silence lingered between the two as Alexander and McCalkin sorted out strategies behind them, though Jacob eventually spoke up.

“We seem to be absent of one other person,” Jacob stated, and John glanced at him with a raised brow before shortly realizing whom he was referring to.

John withheld a groan as he claimed, “We’re doing well-off as of now. Regardless of possible interferences, the two of us, my faithful, both Nadi and Alexander should be enough to reign in more converts. We don’t need her… wherever she is at the moment.”

Who he referred to was their “sister”; Faith, or rather Rachel, or rather the third young woman brought into their family because of how “faithful” she’d been in the Project’s beliefs.

And sure, John was willing to extend credit where credit was due; while the former two predecessors had been… nothing beyond present in their short run, the current one had solved the urgent issues with earlier versions of the Bliss (despite his grievances towards her use of it, John could not deny it made for effective sedatives), which he understood gave her enough brownie points to stay a while longer.

A while longer though then became several unbearable years where he had to play platitudes with her and had to keep his criticisms of her performances and methods to himself because the Father permitted it. Couldn’t even voice his concerns when she revealed her immunity towards the effects of the Bliss.

John could never stand the falseness of her role – could not stand as his brother showered a total stranger in excessively unwarranted praise, while he’s the one out here, pushing himself to strive for the project’s betterment, and yet is chastised for the mistakes he couldn’t see he was making-

John took a breath. He was getting too worked up, which he can’t afford here. And he’ll especially not let Faith and her fake smiles (hiding that infuriating smugness!) get the better of him today.

At least Jacob didn’t appear fooled by her performances. Though John believed it was more out of apathy from sitting through two others before Rachel’s induction.

Jacob grunted, before replying, “As much as I question it, she’s been allowed to stay longer than the others ever had. She’s been useful, I’ll give her that much.”

“You only say that because her strands of Bliss helped your conditioning process and the creation of the Judges,” John pointed out, causing Jacob to shrug, “If it weren’t for her hand with the Bliss, she’d just be like her predecessors.”

“Whining about it isn’t going to help John,” Jacob chided, cocking his head over to the stand, “Now come on, we’ve got work to do.”

John merely gave a light grumble as they turned towards the stand to whatever recruitment flyers Alexander and McCalkin had compiled.

The brothers looked them over. There were two kinds, and to John, they just seemed to be a kind of unoriginal copy of the military’s propaganda, and a youth scout’s group meant to be given to parents. Jacob seemed mildly satisfied, so perhaps John just wasn’t as attuned to how his recruitments worked.

“Alright,” Jacob spoke, earning him Alexander and McCalkin’s attention, “McCalkin, you take the youth program flyers deeper into the parade, and as for you Alexander, take the regular recruitment flyers and stay within my sight.”

McCalkin seemed relieved by her assigned post (John wondered if there was still doubt tainting her soul, like he suspected Alex still had), while Alexander pouted but ultimately wasn’t surprised. Neither was John; Alexander may be one of Jacob’s greatest soldiers, but John knew the signs of a faithless wretch. And so did Jacob.

If John was in Jacob’s shoes, he’d have fed Alexander to the Judges. Ultimately, he had no say in his eldest brother’s matters, and would merely keep an eye out on Alexander, should he attempt something… unsavoury towards his brother.

McCalkin took her fliers and strolled past the brothers, earning what John assumed was a reassuring pat from Alexander, and disappeared into the crowd ahead.

Which only left John and Jacob with Alexander.

As Alexander went to depart, he paused and stretched his lips into the friendliest smile possible (though even to John, it still seemed too forced and unnatural despite several classes trying to help the man) as he went up to meet an approaching figure.

“Hello good, sir,” Alexander greeted the stranger with excessive enthusiasm, at least in John’s opinion, “Isn’t it such a wonderous day?”

John was about to tune the men out (Alexander was Jacob’s responsibility after all) but froze upon hearing the other man’s recognizable voice and accent as he replied, “Oh, sì. I cannot disagree there, mio amico. For my first time, it has certainly been an experience.”

Jacob seemed to have recognized the man as well, much to John’s relief, and his face hardened into stoicism as he listened to Alexander’s conversation, “Great to hear it, sir. Say, would you perhaps be interested in carrying arms with us over at St. Francis? We welcome comradery and grit, guaranteeing no judgements and offering other benefits beside a sense of belonging.”

…John slowly glanced to Jacob, wondering if the ginger even tried making the effort of a script for his soldiers to practice with.

Momentarily distracted, he didn’t notice that the familiar man had peeked behind Alexander to get a good look at the brothers until Jacob uncrossed his arms and started approaching the two.

“That sounds rather interesting,” the response returned John’s attention back towards the conversation, “But I’m afraid I’m not a gun person. I’m also too frail, too old, and too weak to commit to such activities. My priorities lie elsewhere.”

Before Alexander could salvage the conversation, the man side stepped past him and met Jacob’s approach.

“Ah, Jacob… and John,” Paul greeted with less enthusiasm, head tilted as he examined both of the brothers, “I wouldn’t have expected either of you to be attending such a public event; not one like this, especially.”

John cocked a brow up, approaching to stand by his brother’s side as he levelled Paul – donned in his yellow and black three-piece attire (in spite of the hot weather), his dyed blonde hair hiding the natural light brown (though not the roots on his side), pale hazel eyes watching their movements, the brace clasped to his left leg to stabilize his balance – with a polite grin, his eyes trying to not betray how insulted he felt by the older man.

“What gave you that impression, Yellowjack?” John inquired, crossing his arms in front of the other man. Alexander hung behind Paul, observing from behind, especially with Paul’s arms clasped behind his back.

“I claim to be no expert on the ins and outs, and values and beliefs, of Eden’s Gate,” Paul stated, clicking his tongue, “But from my experience, your type aren’t as… welcoming, as you advertise.”

John and Jacob glanced towards one another, though Jacob didn’t make a reply. Probably thought it wasn’t his place to. So it left John to dispel such egregious presumptions.

“I’ll have you know, Yellowjack, that we at the Project at Eden’s Gate do not hold biases towards others personal attributes, whether it be gender, sexuality or race,” John proclaimed, gesturing towards their cross, “We do not care of your status, or your background, or your past; only that you stand by our side to cross Eden’s Gate.”

Paul regarded John curiously, letting out a quizzical hum, and asking, “But such standings have… certain conditions to be met, correct?”

John furrowed his brows, nodding. Jacob butted in before John could begin pitching again, “Effort must be met with a willingness to sacrifice.”

Alexander’s expression shifted to one of deep thought, though John didn’t pay him any further mind as he discerned Paul’s reaction.

Paul did not appear pleased by the mention of that word; his gaze steeled, quirked up lips thinning into something pursed and upturned.

John could tell he wasn’t willing to hear anything more, with his next words being, “I find the very notion of a cause’s use of sacrifice to be a cop-out method to justify the prolonging of unnecessary suffering, whether it is out of capitalizing on it, enacting martyrdom or some zealous devotion. I could never give up what I value most. Not for anything. Not after...”

Paul didn’t finish the sentence, his words trailing as his eyes wandered off to some space or another. He seemed to be reflecting on something, a behaviour John has noticed Jacob does sometimes.

“And yet, without suffering,” John added, earning Paul’s attention, “People will be burdened by the pain of sin. If they cannot accept that pain, how do they ever hope to be free? Only by experiencing it, confessing it, can they reach atonement.”

Paul seemed to ponder his words with more consideration that John was surprised the older man would be willing to give but shortly shook his head when coming up with an answer. Instead of voicing his discrepancy, he merely said, “Agree to disagree, John.”

With that discussion out of the way, and with Paul still present, glancing at the crowd nearby, John inquired, “And what brings you here, Yellowjack? In your own words, I wouldn’t have expected someone like you to attend such an event.”

It was a white lie. John could absolutely see and expected a man like Paul; stylish, flamboyant, always ogling Jacob, to attend an event like this, which made it more surprising that John’s never seen him around over the years.

Shockingly, Paul didn’t point out John’s little fib, instead answering with earnest honesty, “I usually don’t, admittedly. Maybe twice before I’ve attended, but it’s not something I’ve been inclined to do annually. As much as the sight brings me a bit of… joy, I suppose. Where I’m from, if we ever pulled something off like this, well, the punishment would be severe. I guess you could say I’m still stuck back there…”

Paul fell silent. John hadn’t expected an answer like that, though he made sure to file it away for later. The more they learned about Paul, the better they could approach the more interesting person whom he shields.

“I thought you said this was your first time attending, Mr Yellowjack?” Alexander pointed out with a drawl, and John found himself almost glad the Chosen had caught that detail.

Paul lost his solemn expression and gave Alexander a wide and endearing grin, “Well, it’s my first time attending this event, this month, this year.”

John and Jacob glanced to one another, unimpressed by the deceitful omission.

“So what’s brought you here then?” Alexander pushed, arms crossed as he gestured towards the crowd, “Something catch your eye? Or… someone?”

As Alexander wagged his eyes at the older man coquettishly, much to John’s chagrin and, from how he narrowed his eyes at his soldier, Jacob’s irritation. Paul waves him off though, deflecting Alexander’s overt display as he shook his head, “Oh no, I’m just here with my figlia and her partner.”

That caught the brothers’ attention.

“P-pardon?” John sputtered out, with Jacob straightening at attention. John cleared his throat, hoping to push down any stammering as he asked, “Did you just say, “partner”?”

From the time he’s known the deputy, and the background checks he’s tried to dig up about her and her father, the topic of sexual or romantic partnerships never came up. She didn’t seem to be the kind of person to have time to hold down a relationship.

At least, John had hoped for that to be the case. He’d been aware that she was key to his salvation – to the family’s salvation – and he’d been coming up with ways to convince her to join the project and out of the Sheriff’s department. The key route John had aimed for was to gain her trust and start a friendship.

But he was also prepared to capture her heart if the opportunity presented itself. He wasn’t so keen on that plan, and neither had his brothers either, but he knew when it came to the Collapse, all advantages had to be up for consideration. He had thought the only obstacle to these plans had been the deputy’s stubbornness and Paul’s rotten influence.

This threw a wrench into such plans.

Paul merely nodded in answer, though a tug of his lips indicated he was withholding one of his devious smirks, “Oh, yes. It’s a rather recent affair. A couple months they’ve been at it now.”

John was sure to keep himself from expressively seething in front of Paul, from showing how displeased he was with this unexpected news. Although, John did feel an odd relief of weight which seemingly lift from his shoulders, in spite of how annoyed he was by such a drawback.

The odd relief only turned to a light ease when Paul pointed towards the stands near the centrepiece of the parade. And it grew when John managed to spot a familiar short blonde talking with someone as they browsed the stands.

The sight of the short pixie cut which belonged to Nadi had relaxed John, glad to see she was doing fine, despite the low stakes of this entire outing.

His mood soured when he noticed the last person he’d want in his line of sight.

Of course she’d be here, John internally groaned, eyes narrowed on the familiar white dress of his “sister”, and his jaw tightened upon realizing she was the one Nadi was speaking with.

It discomforted John with how close Faith was to Nadi without him being at least an arm’s length away from his most faithful lieutenant. He didn’t like that Faith was allowed to speak with Nadi at all.

Nadi turned towards their direction, and she waved at him with bubbly joy, earning Faith’s attention towards where the brothers and Paul were. John reeled back the scowl he wanted to throw at Faith’s back but replaced it with a sincere grin as he returned a wave back, focused on his trusted companion.

Both women began to separate from the crowd and made their way towards the brothers.

Nadi received quite a warm welcome from most of the men, including Alexander, though Faith only received a sincere one from Paul.

“Bonjour John!” Nadi greeted ecstatically, before turning to the rest of the men present and giving a toned-down greeting in respect, “Bonjour messieurs!”

While Alexander and Paul gave Nadi an explicit acknowledgement with smiles and greetings in return, Jacob gave the bare minimum of an acknowledging nod to her. John came closer to the blonde, latching on to the side of her shoulder as he kept himself between her and Faith with an enthusiastic grin of his own.

“Ah, Nadi. I’m glad to see you’ve been enjoying yourself,” he told her, subtly guiding her away from his “sister”, asking, “How went the recruitments? Nobody gave you any trouble, did they?”

Nadi puffed out her cheeks and blew out an exaggerated huff as she rolled her eyes, “If someone was bold enough to try anything, I’d kicked them out onto the curve, John.”

Her expression shifted to something prouder, her brown eyes twinkling as she told him, “But if you must know, I’ve gotten quite a number of converts interested in attending your sermons.”

An appraising smile replaced the faux grin he hid his worries behind, “Fantastic as always, my dear.”

Nadi shared returned a smile back before she bashfully looked away from him, “Aw, don’t tease me now, John. Faith helped some too.”

John was about to openly disregard whatever contribution Nadi believes Faith had which somehow overshadowed her own, however, Faith beat him to it.

“You were doing quite well before I arrived, Nadi,” Faith stated, a smile plastered on her face like a sticky note, “I’m certain you would have continued to do well even without my presence.”

John gave a slight glance to the younger woman, blue eyes narrowed even as Nadi stammered out gratitude towards his “sister”.

Looking her over as he tried to figure out what game she seemed to be playing, he noticed an impossibility that made him blink not once, not twice, but three to five times.

Am I high… or is she actually wearing shoes?

More accurately, Faith seemed to be wearing sandals. For once in the entire time he’s known her, he was bearing witness to Faith utilizing footwear.

“Oh!” John’s baffled attention returned to Nadi as she remembered something, digging into one of her fanny packs to bring out what seemed to be two handsewn bracelets. Nadi extended her clutched hand out to John as she quickly explained, “I almost forgot. A mutual friend helped with these.”

Inspecting the bracelets – which seemed to be a menagerie of string sewn tightly together into a bracelet – in Nadi’s hand, John noticed how identical they looked; both sewn in a similar style, and both the colours of a deep blue, purple and pink, most noticeable in the coiled horizontal segment.

He feels like he knows these colours…

“…What are these, Nadi?”

Nadi hesitated before she explained, “Their bracelets that act as good luck charms! I thought they looked neat.”

John hummed, still looking at the two accessories, “And why do you have two?”

“Well, I thought you’d like one too,” Nadi elaborates, almost receding her hand as she murmurs, “If you don’t want yours I’ll keep it…”

“No, no, my dear,” John intercepted, his heart seeming to stutter as his fingers brushed against Nadi’s while taking one of the offered bracelets, “I’m flattered. T-that’s quite thoughtful of you.”

John felt heat rise to his face as he held onto the accessory, blaming the mild heat of the sun. He gave Nadi a small smile, though he was unsure whether it was habit or not.

Nadi seemed satisfied.

Then John remembered her words.

“What did you mean by “mutual friend”?” John finally asked once it came back to him.

As if summoned, a familiar figure strolled up and casually snuck an arm around Faith’s waist, laying a head on her shoulder from behind as she announced her presence to the group.

“Hola mi querida,” Silva Omar, the deputy at the centre of the Father’s vision, told the shorter woman, her face comfortably close to Faith’s own as she greeted everyone else, “Hola to all of you too.”

The sudden appearance of the dark-haired woman, in a casual fit rather than her uniform, surprised the likes of Jacob and Alexander, and even John himself, though Nadi and Paul seemed to be the only ones unsurprised by the deputy’s presence, nor at all shocked by how eagerly Faith presses herself into the deputy’s arm.

John also noticed that the deputy wore a similar bracelet to what Nadi had around her wrist and one which John still had in his hand. Though instead of the sewn string holding the same blue, purple and pink colours as both himself and Nadi did, the colours on Silva’s retained a dark orange, lighter orange, white, a lightish pink and lastly a dark rose.

“Hi flor de loto,” Faith responded – when did she start learning Spanish?! – to Silva, bringing her fingers up to caress – and when did Silva allow anyone outside her father (especially Faith of all people) to be as intimately physical as that?! – along the deputy’s jaw, much to the puzzlement of their audience.

John observed as Silva seemed to readily accept Faith’s light touches with a small smile that almost looked dopey, which he found out of place on the deputy. He’s never seen her so relaxed, nor so keen on engaging in such an open display of affection…

When had THAT begun?

“Well, I should head off,” Paul stated aloud, checking his wrist for a non-existent watch, turning to both Silva and Faith, neither of whom hadn’t separated from the other much to John’s growing confusion, telling them, “I’ll leave you lovely donne to yourselves.”

Faith merely smiled politely in reply, though Silva straightened a bit as she asked, “Are you sure you want to leave, padre? There’s still plenty to do before this festival ends…”

Paul waved a hand as he shook his head gently, telling his daughter, “Oh, I’m certain, piccolo boa. ‘Sides, I don’t want to be impeding on your outing any further than I have. Not to mention…”

Paul patted his left leg, gesturing to the brace around it, “…I’ve exerted my muscles for the day. I’ll see you both back at the house.”

“I’ll require to drop a visit over to the compound, but I’ll come by later tonight,” Faith informed the faux blonde, much to Jacob and John’s puzzlement. Or at least John’s. Though, his bafflement on the casualness between Faith and both the father and daughter did make way to another thought.

Wait…

“That’s fine by me. Enjoy your date, ragazze,” Paul said as he turned his back away from the group, barely giving a glance and wave goodbye to the brothers as he stated, “So long, fellas. Spero sinceramente che i vostri crani vengano schiacciati come acini d'uva.”

Even while his brother and their lieutenants acknowledged Paul’s goodbye with a reply of some kind, John couldn’t focus on Paul’s leave. His eyes had widened as he processed Paul’s words to the two women and what he mentioned earlier.

No, he thought as his gaze settled on both Silva and Faith still as uncomfortably close as ever, It can’t be possible…

The horrid realization settled on his chest as he started to consider the possibility that mysterious “partner” Paul had mentioned was no stranger to them at all…

Unfortunately, someone noticed his silent distress.

“You alright there, John?” Silva had asked without a tinge of worry in her tone, head tilted to the side as it almost leaned against Faith’s own, “You seem a little off.”

John swiftly recovered himself, putting on the friendliest grin he could muster as he replied, “Just spaced out a little. How about you, deputy? Are you feeling alright?”

If what he’s seeing is true, which he kind of hoped it wasn’t, then there were two possibilities: either Faith had seduced the Deputy (which… how?), or blissed both her and Paul (seems the most likely). Or perhaps a combination of the two (not impossible).

Silva raised a dark brow at John, her grey eyes – colour still dull as ever, no trace of a green tint in them – regarding him before she answered, “Si, I’m fine. I’d go as far to say I’m feeling quite great right now.”

John caught how she and Faith shared a glance with the other, Silva’s oddly tranquil while Faith’s seemed giddy. Like something out of some high school romance series, where the main couple had yet to reveal their relationship to their friends and think their doing a great job at hiding it despite being obvious.

Of course, that made John even more suspicious; he’d never take Silva as the type to engage in such dramatics. He knew her to be a very blunt and upfront individual. This was quite uncharacteristic behaviour to him.

Jacob also seemed suspicious of the two, observing their interactions, though John could only hope it was because his eldest brother noticed a trick of Faith’s that he himself couldn’t see just yet.

“Out of uniform, deputy?” Jacob decided to point out, which did earn John’s attention, though only briefly when came Silva’s response.

“It’s my day off. Decided to make the most of it,” Silva told them, her gaze returning to Faith when she finished, earning a giggle from the shorter woman.

John couldn’t discern what trick Faith managed to pull to… have her be delighted in her presence. Could it be a new strain of Bliss? A viable possibility, though John couldn’t see any of the tics that gave away someone affected under the substance.

He began to wonder if Faith had just conducted a more passive strain when Jacob decided to ask, “Mind elaborating?”

Silva turned her gaze to Jacob, head tilting as if in confusion, but the gesture did not match her dry tone nor the small smirk as she replied, “I don’t think there’s anything to elaborate on here, Jacob.”

Faith seemed to stifle a giggle as Jacob merely rolled his eyes at Silva’s lack of cooperation in their exchange, so John decided to step in.

“Well there is one thing I believe you can elaborate on,” John caught Silva and Faith’s attention, as well as his brother and their respective lieutenants, but the pair were more important. He had to know. He needed confirmation; something he hoped wouldn’t be true.

With all eyes on him, John stated, “A particularly chatty bird told us you’ve recently engaged yourself into a relationship of some kind. A romantic one from how he described it. Anything to say about that?”

The reaction John thought he’d receive from Silva upon mentioning that detail – ranging from denial to hesitance – became non-existent when Silva immediately nodded her head as she responded, “Si, I am. Why do you ask?”

John was a little offput by her flippant attitude – Faith what have you done this woman?! – but pushed further on, “Call it intrigue, my dear. I hadn’t pegged you as someone to enter one with how busy you are. Would you be obliged to tell us about it?”

At the precipice of truth now, John could only repeat the following words: Please Lord, not her. Please Lord, not her. Please Lord, not her. Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-

Silva shared glance with Faith, who slipped her own hand around Silva’s waist as they pressed lightly together, and with light smiles exchanged between the pair, Silva answered while cocking her head to Faith, “Ask her. She always tells it best.”

…Shit.

Faith seemed to speak, but John couldn’t hear anything. Anyone who was observing him from his outside would only see a mask of contemplation, or even calm.

Inside, though, he was holding back all temptation to express his irritation, his disdain, towards Rachel. Because of course she’d try something. OF COURSE, she’d try to one-up him in someone way to get their brother’s approval.

He’d thought Silva to be as alert as her father always seemed to be… though John couldn’t find fault in her for not suspecting anything about that imposter of a sister. Rachel always had a way with her words, and performed her role frustratingly well – it’s why she lasted longer than her predecessors ever did – to the point the Father doesn’t bat an eye of concern whenever she requests converts or materials.

So, John accepted that even Silva could fall for whatever honey trap Rachel presented herself as. But he couldn’t see Paul falling for it, and there would be no way he wouldn’t be weary of whatever nefarious scheme she’s concocted.

Which means she’s developed some strain of Bliss to keep one or both father and daughter complacent to whatever illusions she’s feeding them.

John couldn’t possibly see how she could have gotten his brother’s approval for this.

“Has the Father approved of this?” he heard Jacob inquire, forcing John out of stewing inside his head.

Rachel merely giggled in reply, unfortunately informing both brothers, “Of course! Our brother is quite aware of our partnership and had given his blessing in advance.”

“En cualquier caso, la aprobación no habría cambiado mucho,” Silva grumbled into Rachel’s light brown hair, which the shorter woman seemed to pick up on.

…Perhaps I should take up some Spanish again, John pondered to himself, adding, And Italian too, if only to understand how insulted I should feel by Paul’s words.

Disregarding the thought for the time being, though he wouldn’t admit it until it was just him and Nadi alone, John felt a lividness and a hint of confusion. The Father gave his blessing? If that was the case than that meant his brother saw it necessary to employ all measures to bring their deputy closer to their convert.

So why hadn’t he supported my proposal all those months ago?

He looked to Rachel, then to Silva. He wondered for a moment. Had the Father suspected them to be incompatible?

He decided to get to the bottom of it.

“So, Deputy, we’ve heard Faith’s side of the story, but how about yours? What had you so captivated by our dear… sister?” he asked, watching every twitch of muscle on her face. He caught a glimpse of Rachel narrowing her eyes at him but swiftly returned to a pleasant mask.

Just as before, Silva didn’t hesitate to answer, “Well, after meeting at the barbeque, I kept crossing paths with her on my daily outings. We struck up conversation and got in the habit of planning an outing once or twice a week together. Usually it’d take a lot longer for me to fall for a señora, but we found we had some things in common, and I can’t help but admit I wasn’t a little captivated by what those beautiful green eyes were hiding.”

A slight blush rested on Rachel’s face, though John was convinced she somehow learned to blush on command rather than it be something genuine. Though Silva’s mention of señoras, which John was positively certain translated to “ladies” or “women” in English, did clue him in as to why his older brother would have rejected his proposition; he likely recognized Silva’s preferences, which might explain why he approved of Rachel’s pursuit.

Though it relieved John he wouldn’t have to force himself in pretending to pursue the deputy’s heart, for the sake of his family’s salvation of course, it did peeve him that Rachel was ingraining herself further into the Father’s good graces.

Silva was undeterred as she continued, “I found her cleverness the most attractive aspect. And her passion for her projects had me charmed. So I popped the question and found my feelings were mutually shared by her.”

…John realized that perhaps he should have at least tried listening to Rachel’s story beforehand so he could compare it with Silva’s perspective and file away any contradictions. He’d have to ask Nadi to repeat Rachel’s words back to him. He wouldn’t waste time asking Jacob, considering his eldest brother liked to keep his cards close.

Nadi did seem to be unaware of the wider implications of what Rachel’s hold over the deputy meant, as she responded with, “Well congratulations to you both. I sure wish you luck in your new endeavour!”

Both Silva and Rachel gave their thanks to Nadi, and John couldn’t help but be a little envious by both women’s ability to take on their barrage of questions without hesitation and without faltering in upholding whatever deception Rachel weaved up.

It’s like they’re untouchable against whatever personal questions we could come up with, John noted.

Almost on cue, Alexander seemed to decide he didn’t want to end a conversation that he wasn’t apart of with a level of grace and normality, “So when’s the wedding-?”

The question wasn’t even finished when Silva and Rachel looked to each other with a varying degree of panic written across their faces, with Silva cringing, like she’d heard the same question beforehand.

…Well, by now it’s to be expected the only exception would be Alexander’s innate ability to ruin the mood. I don’t think the world was prepared for Alexander either.

While Rachel stammered, Silva swiftly checked her bracelet and stated, “Oh, would you look at the time, we better head on to more of the festival’s activities before it closes. We’re on a date, after all.”

Both John and Jacob watched as the apparent couple made their escape, disappearing into the crowds of the parade, Alexander seemingly satisfied by yet again ending the conversation with an awkward air.

They were left in a small silence as the brothers stewed over the revelations of that day, though John’s attention was brought back onto Jacob when his eldest brother broke the silence. One would expect Jacob to say something deductive or even a helpful directive in this horrifying epiphany that their “sister” had gotten one step further into solidifying her place by their brother’s side… and yet…

“Is Faith wearing sandals?” he finally questions, much to John’s disbelief and Nadi’s amusement.

Alexander spoke next, much to John’s disappointment, “You know, I’m glad you pointed that out. Because I was fully convinced I’d somehow been hallucinating from Bliss for a moment.”

-------

Night came for the Yellowjack-Omar household, the festival long since ended. Though that didn’t mean Silva’s day had ended just yet.

She was preparing a fine dinner in the kitchen for herself and one other. She was filling wine glasses when she heard Paul opening the front door. She guessed from the greeting being exchanged that her expectant guest had arrived.

“Benvenuto, Faith!” she heard her padre’s voice exclaim with much enthusiasm. It relieved Silva to know that in spite of Faith’s ties with Eden’s Gate, it was apparent he didn’t disapprove of her choice in partner.

“Hello Paul-! Uhm,” Silva heard her amor’s voice pause, before asking, “Is that a shovel?”

“Oh sì. I’m going out for a graveyard shift, you see,” Paul explained, and though she couldn’t see him, Silva could visualize he had twirled his shovel to rest over his shoulder, “Going to fill some holes tonight.”

“…but don’t you work as a beekeeper?”

“Sì, I do.”

An awkward pause settled between the two, though even her padre’s words brought Silva to a stop in preparing the dish for tonight.

“…Okay,” came Faith’s reply, and Silva heard shuffling as her amor entered the house, “You have fun with that.”

“Not as much fun as you ragazze will be having, I’m sure,” Paul responded casually, the weight of his steps on the wooden floor going fainter as he crossed the front door.

“Try not to get rowdy, Silva,” Paul called out from the front before the sound of the door shut closed, indicating his leave.

Silva rolled her eyes at his closing words as she went and stirred the pot some more, smiling as she heard Faith’s approaching footsteps.

Sure enough, Faith’s hands wrapped around Silva’s midriff, the shorter woman’s forehead just able to rest against the back of the deputy’s neck.

“You alright, amor?” Silva asked, knowing that today had been… a risk.

“Yeah,” Faith replied, exhaling as she added, “Cat’s now out of the bag, is all.”

Silva hummed in response, moving her free hand down to lay atop the ones clasped over her stomach.

“Are there any problems I should come to expect?” Silva inquired. She was not foolish to believe that her life would remain stagnant in the comfortability she’d come to expect merely because she was dating Faith.

Faith gave her answer, “Well no… although expect invitations to sermons and family dinners. My brothers will likely insist you come live closer to the Project’s properties. I’d also expect John to start an investigation to make sure I haven’t blissed you. Knowing Jacob, he’d believe you’re taking advantage of our relationship for nefarious intentions.”

Silva paused in her stirring, asking, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but would he be the kind of older brother to believe one such nefarious intention be corrupting his little sister’s “purity” as I’ve read from my novelas?”

Faith snorted, shaking her head, “To John, maybe. But I’m not a concern to Jacob.”

Silva nodded, mixing the mince of the meatballs with the red of the tomato sauce. The aromatic smell was stronger now, the albondigas almost ready.

“That looks fantastic,” Faith murmured, glimpsing over her shoulder to catch a sight of the dish, “You never fail to impress me with your culinary skills.”

Silva chuckled, “You know what they say: “A way through a person’s heart is through their stomach”. It’s how Paul won over Obadiah.”

Faith hummed, a smile on her lips as she said, “Maybe you can teach me to cook these dishes…”

Silva pretended to ponder the though as she playfully responded, “Well, I could do that. But then you’d have no need for me and my “impressive culinary skills” as you call it.”

Faith playfully pouted as she stated, “Your cooking isn’t all I love about you.”

Silva paused stirring her spatula as she curiously asked, “Oh? What other qualities attract your interest in me?”

Faith was swift in claiming, “You make for a great quarrel.”

Silva snorted as she huffed, continuing to tend to their dinner, “Do I now?”

Faith only nodded against her back, continuing, “But I think your stubbornness in holding onto your principles deserves an honourable mention. As well as how well you spoil me.”

Silva preferred the term “ensuring you’re loved and appreciated”, but she let it slide for now.

“There’s so more about you I could go on about,” Faith tells her, playfulness transferring into something more serious, “It’s like I can’t get you out of my mind.”

Silva took a moment to glance at Faith’s close form, feeling the truth of her words through the possessive grasp of her arms. She was certain Faith’s words rang true, and her feelings even more so.

“Nor can I,” she warmly admits to her amor, tending to the sizzling of the meat.

[A/n] Sorry for not keeping the promise of smut again, but I got one planned for September. Kidfic in July next guys!

[theelderhazelnut]

Rise of The Villains: The Advocate

Warnings: mentions of death

Words count: 1.5k

Pairing(s): None

Characters: Quan Chi, Raiden, Sonya Blade, Johnny Cage, Cassie Cage

Summary: Quan Chi is back from the dead, but his punishment is far from over. The Special Forces have captured him to use for their own purposes.

Author’s Note: Here it is! This series is best described as an AU of Rise Of The Villains (An au of an au lol). This takes place somewhere between MKX and MK11, and is not canon compliant. ALSO, writing from his pov is the medicine I didn’t know I needed.

Writing Taglist: @cassietrn @raresvtm @cloudofbutterflies92 @mids-stupid-shit @thedragonholder @tommyarashikage @malicedragoness @afraidofrabbits @ash-shark @darialovesstuff @bloody-arty-myths @vivilovespink @starneko123 @inafieldofdaisies @chaosrealm @voidika @aceghosts @euryalex @elderglocks @averytiredbitch @strangefable

Returning from the dead wasn’t really a good idea; at least not when it was about me. The silence among the corpses and, as they say, damned souls was where I felt most comfortable in.

Death was never an issue for me. I knew the rules of this board game. I knew which pawns to move and exactly which houses to move them to. And I would always stand up with a proud smile, and shake hands with death with pure confidence.

But this time was different. This time, the game was new. I didn’t know the rules. This time, Raiden slammed my fist down onto the table.

The path to the main headquarters was more crowded than I would usually prefer. Living eons in the Netherrealm had forged my mind to fit well with that incomparable isolation among jagged cliffs and eroded souls, so now it was doomed to endure the endless, lively chatter of humans everywhere. Every single one of them minded their own particular business. They blended together; out of my control.

I leaned my temple against the car’s window while my handcuffed hands subconsciously stroked the fabric of my uniform pants, silently getting accustomed to them.

“No longer allowed to open portals to your destination?” The Special Forces agent asked, his raspy voice was nearly unreadable.

My chest clenched. “But, still, I will survive a car accident.”

His green eyes lingered on me through the rear view mirror. My lips slowly stretched into a smirk. That was the fear I knew with my flesh and blood. At least something from home accompanied me this morning.

After about half an hour, a dark vast border of a fortified wall emerged from the horizon. I shifted to the middle seat to take a better look through the front window. As far as the eye could see, the wall stood persistently, stoically protecting what was behind. As we drove closer, I noticed that it wasn’t actually a wall. It consisted of angular observation decks, and tiny dots of light leaked through the concrete.

The winding road lead us towards an enormous gate. And soon, we were among armored vehicles and hurried soldiers. I got out of the van. The cold wind whipped my face. Immediately, the trigger of another round of headache came forward.

“This new face is in the biggest spotlight today! I’m envious.” Jonathan Cage nearly shouted, grinning from ear to ear while he wheeled a wheelchair.

“As you should.” I replied. The last thing I needed was him rubbing his hatred for me all over me with an unnatural cheerful tone.

“You even ordered first-class?” He whistled, and tapped the back of the chair. I sat down, and immediately, two soldiers tied my wrists, chestand ankles to the chair.

Mr. Cage wheeled me on a wheelchair through the hallways which were mostly constructed by metal, I presumed. The pale fluorescent lights leaking through the stiff folds of the ceiling and the floor were bright enough to bring any creature back to their senses immediately.

As we reached the very end of one of the many hallways, a metal gate slid open, and we entered a much darker room. It took my eyes a whole several minutes to adjust to the abrupt change of lighting.

“Here he is!” Mr. Cage announced.

Raiden’s white robe quickly caught my attention once he stepped into the dim light. His straw hat shadowed half of his face, per usual. The source of all of my miseries was a few meters away from me, but I was forced to sit on a wheelchair and just watch.

“After eons, you will make considerable use for the realms.” He began firmly. “Even though you are meamt to suffer the consequences of the long list of your crimes.”

“What makes you so certain of that?” The words came out without my knowledge. I let out a sigh and shrugged. “You couldn’t possibly think of a more easier punishment?”

“You are in the Special Forces’ grasp, Quan Chi.” Raiden raised his voice slightly as he repeated his words.

“And as your punishment, you will be working as a secret agent.” A female voice continued. General Sonya Blade stepped forward into the light, shoulders square and hands behind her back.

I would never predict this moment in million years. I held a hysterical laugh behind a sudden burst of a smirk. “You truly are so desperate, lord Raiden. Have you finally succeeded to kill your champions one after another?”

His nostrils flared, his lips creasing in a pout. “In fact, I have always been anticipating this moment to have your cooperation. And it has finally arrived, but not in a situation you certainly desired.” He spoke nonchalantly.

“And if I refused?”

“Your soul will forever be banished to the in-between.”

The blood in my veins froze. Raiden had never made such an existential threat to me, so now this was a sign of a gigantic dog on a leash, ready to be released.

“And how this current moment differs from being banished? Granted with the chance to live among humans is supposed to be…nurturing? Rewarding?” Fortunately, my voice remained tamed and neutral.

General blade dodged my teasing question firmly. “After a medical checkup, you will receive a set of essential gears. And you are also obligated to pass the shooting, and driving training.”

+++

The walk through the hallways wasn’t strange at all, having all eyes on me and all the necks craned up to take a look at the necromancer was quite a familiar sight.

In the inventory, a female voice parroted Mr. Cage’s words.

“They’re being too kind to you, baldy.” Cassie Cage stood up from her seat, sauntering to the circular table at the center. “Guns? That’s too much for you.”

“I am already too much for you soldiers.” I pronounced the last word slightly more emphasized, as though it was a rude insult.

“Talk after you survived a gunfight.”

I rolled my eyes and neared the table. My gaze roamed around the various weapons - which were mostly guns - arranged neatly under the intense fluorescent light. I had to squint a little.

“Have you ever touched a gun before?” She probably had guessed the answer, yet she seemed annoyed by the obligation to ask it aloud.

“After eons of studying, there still remains many fields I haven’t even peeped into.” I picked up a black pistol. “Do I have freedom in my choice?”

Ms. Cage shrugged. “You gotta learn how to handle all of these sooner or later. Most of them at least.” She crossed her arms. “Pick a pistol and a rifle for now. And let’s just get over with this training crap.”

+++

The training session was more of an issue than I had thought. That was the moment I learned aiming with a pistol is considerably more difficult than shooting a large green skull from your bare hands.

One more cylindrical obstacle hitting my shin was enough for my rage to flare. I tripped over and fell onto my elbows. My fist clenched around the pistol. It was all its fault, distracting me from numerous moving obstacles. My chest vibrated from the low growl that escaped my throat.

I turned onto my side, and opened my palms. The heat of rage coursed through my arms, morphing into several shooting skulls. The massive twirling cylinder staggered backwards, the background now visible through the burnt hole in it. The long shafts attached to it went flying in the air. A few of them struck the monkey bars. Targets on the wall collapsed, slamming against the floor with a thunderous clash.

Commander Cage slurped her drink. “Wow.”

I took a deep breath before sitting up on my knees.

“Where’ja wanna get the money from?” She vaguely gestured to the mess before her. “Come on, you’ll perform better on the streets. Like a dog chasing cars.”

“At least I don’t have a golden leash given by my mother.” I forced a smirk on my bitter expression. My chest heaved with my heavy breaths.

She shot me a glare before leaving the training room.

I stood on my feet, and adjusted my uniform. A part of me admitted that she was right; I was now going to chase cars and people like a dog. But since when did they collected the courage to spit facts in my face?

I gripped the fabric of my pants and stared at nothing on the floor. I was only one step away from tangibly tasting this new life. Everything was going smoothly around me and against me. Instead of wrapping it all around my finger, I could just sit there and have a young soldier order me here and there.

I stood up and walked up to the metal gate. At least I could show them why they made a wrong move by making me their secret agent.

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday, OC First Encounter, Seven Sentence Sunday & Top Ten Songs on Repeat

Tagged by the lovelies @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @raresvtm @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @direwombat @noodlecupcakes @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @josephslittledeputy @cassietrn @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @cloudofbutterflies92 @derelictheretic @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard and @yokobai + anyone else who'd like to join.

Music for an original character, Rouske, A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore and The UnTitledverse, Seven Sentences for a Life, Despair & Monsters WIP, OC First Encounter for The Silver Chronicles and my top ten songs on repeat. Listen and read below the cut:

In my Fallout 4 WIP A Symbol For A Better World from my A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore series, I take a lot of joy in writing out my Sole Survivor OC Nate Gust Sarid being in charge of the Minutemen, especially with Ress' influence. Like Nate is pretty charismatic (in an odd sort of way) and has a fundamental understanding on how recruitment works, but Ress has been apart of her family's crime boss management and has witnessed how other factions use certain values to recruit others, including her own brother. Considering how low in numbers and scattered the Minutemen are, Nate devises a plan with Ress to start making advertisements (with the help of Piper) to convince people to join the Minutemen, a form of passive-aggressive combat against the Brotherhood of Steel's propaganda, with one core value being "belonging". This also helps Nate better convince Danse to join the Minutemen when the latter is found out to be a synth; especially since Danse has come across/heard the advertisements and even teamed up with Nate at that point in the WIP, that the idea of joining the Minutemen doesn't seem that far fetched of an option when presented.

"Young man, there's no need to feel down I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground I said, young man, 'cause you're in a new town There's no need to be unhappy Young man, there's a place you can go I said, young man, when you're short on your dough You can stay there and I'm sure you will find Many ways to have a good time

It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A They have everything For young men to enjoy You can hang out with all the boys It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A You can get yourself clean You can have a good meal You can do whatever you feel

Young man, are you listening to me? I said, young man, what do you wanna be? I said, young man, you can make real your dreams But you've got to know this one thing No man does it all by himself I said, young man, put your pride on the shelf And just go there to the Y.M.C.A I'm sure they can help you today!"

Rouske is a character who is as covered in layers as he is full of contradictions. He's the archbishop of Yahar'ghul, practically it's leader, therefore representing Yahar'ghul itself (the violence, depravity, callousness towards life and just the horrible self-inflicted nature of it all) and yet, in spite of this horribleness that he acknowledges within himself, aspires to save people by taking them into the Paragon of Extinction's dreamscape while it burns the multiverse out once awoken. He is often the most calm, self-disciplined and speaks with a refined vocabulary, which contrasts him from his fellows. He is closer to the disposable Pthurmerian Snatchers who barely make a noise beyond a snarl than he is to his self-interested human cohorts who are either loud and obnoxious or as refined as he is, just with less politeness. Rouske both has faith in his plan and yet has various doubts, but in the end never backs down from completing it. But everything gets even more ambiguous with his relationship with a woman from his past. She isn't named beyond being referred to as a "yūrei" (hence the quotations), which if the translator is correct is a Japanese word for "specter" or even "ghost". Which by Rouske's POV, she is; an apparition from his past only ever viewed in one memory of his. In no other circumstances is she ever shown beyond this one muddled memory Rouske has of her. Sometimes the older cohorts of Yahar'ghul refer to her but their information on her are often contradicting and vague, merely rumor. Rouske is the sole person to even have an interaction with her, although the reliability of Rouske's memory of her is questionable. Descriptions of her often change, the setting too, and their relationship is intentionally left unclear; is she his mother? Sister? Family member? Her vocabulary is described as being just as refined and similar to his own. A friend? Lover? Crush? Rival? Enemy? Outcast? Stranger? Future successor or the previous Archbishop? Nothing is clear... and will never be clear, since Rouske has been alive for so long that traveling the Multiverse that his memories aren't what they used to be. The only consistent thing he remembers about her are her words to him; something that rattles him to the present day. Makes him question Yahar'ghul's horrible traditions. Regardless, his refusal to fully remember her and his interaction with her has a thematic reason; the main theme of this concept of a WIP I'm not going to write is "Memories" and "Remembrance", which also acts as a key to being able to "change yourself as a person". Whereas the protagonists succeed in this, Rouske is showing an utter refusal to do so; whatever pain he associates with "Yūrei" and the truth behind her words hurt more than acknowledging he has done wrong and should cease this destructive plan and face the unfairness of the multiverse instead of running and escaping from it. He refuses to remember "Yūrei" fully, and being the one person who even managed to crack his faith in Yahar'ghul's traditions, he also refuses to see himself beyond what he's been taught; only that he is from Yahar'ghul, and Yahar'ghul is nothing but horrible.

"I hurt myself today To see if I still feel I focus on the pain The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole The old, familiar sting Try to kill it all away But I remember everything

What have I become? My sweetest friend Everyone I know goes away In the end

And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns Upon my liar's chair Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time The feelings disappear You are someone else I am still right here

What have I become? My sweetest friend Everyone I know goes away In the end

And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt

If I could start again A million miles away I would keep myself I would find a way."

And finally, some OC stuff on Leslie Who from The UnTitledverse series and how his bond with his son Samuel Who and his mentorship over Joaquin Cobalt shape their lives. For Samuel, Leslie's parenting of him allows the boy to carry the values of kindness and faith even in the Pride Ring of Hell, looking out for his loved ones (especially Charlie Morningstar) and the little guy. Meanwhile, Leslie's mentorship over Joaquin gives the young boy a stable adult figure in his life, one who instills in him the values of mercy and forgiveness and to focus on what matters (like his friends and family of choice) rather than his own short-term pursuits (instant vengeance against Edward Carmine and being of service to an authority that seemingly aligns to his moral ideals). Love my grandpa OC rising to his mid 70s who has a son that's an advisor to Hell's royal family and a kid he's basically a parental figure to who's the leader of a multiverse task force that regularly kick the asses of fascists and whatnot. And both Samuel and Joaquin are trans, so trans ally old man for the win.

("Hey!") "Once upon a younger year When all our shadows disappeared The animals inside came out to play When face to face with all our fears Learned our lessons through the tears Made memories we knew would never fade

One day my father, he told me, "Son, don't let it slip away" He took me in his arms, I heard him say "When you get older, your wild heart will live for younger days Think of me if ever you're afraid"

He said, "One day, you'll leave this world behind So live a life you will remember" My father told me when I was just a child "These are the nights that never die" My father told me

When thunderclouds start pouring down Light a fire they can't put out Carve your name into those shining stars He said, "Go venture far beyond the shores Don't forsake this life of yours I'll guide you home no matter where you are"

One day my father, he told me, "Son, don't let it slip away" He took me in his arms, I heard him say "When you get older, your wild heart will live for younger days Think of me if ever you're afraid"

He said, "One day, you'll leave this world behind So live a life you will remember" My father told me when I was just a child "These are the nights that never die" My father told me

These are the nights that never die My father told me

My father told me!"

Here's a six sentence snippet of my Guenevere WIP where recently married/crowned Guenevere ends up (somehow) lost in woods far from wandering in the kingdom's gardens earlier. So she takes aid from a noble gentleman who seems to know the way back. If only she knew what awaited her...

When I looked down and met his eyes, I found myself briefly still; never before had I seen such rings be as dark as the pupils within. I would go as far and say they were almost void.

A chill rippled across my skin, goosebumps summoned and a minor thought said, Run.

But it was fleeting, the thought, for how ridiculous it is that I should be afraid of such a short, non-threatening nobleman. Especially when he was wearing such an oddly square hat.

I didn't have much other option either, considering he was likely my only way back to the wedding and out of the woods. And I doubted he'd risk doing nefarious deeds on Camelot's newly crowned queen of a beloved king. At least I hoped not...

"Shall we get going, your majesty?" Sir Enigma asked with a smile, gesturing to his odd carriage, breaking me out of my thoughts.

And lastly my top ten repeating songs:

"This Comes From Inside" by The Living Tombstone

"Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs

"Silence" by Marshmello ft. Khalid

"Let You Down" by NF

"Genghis Khan" by Miike Snow

"Skin And Bones" by David Kushner

"Outro" by M83

"Sweet Oblivion" by David Kushner

"At All Costs" by Chris Pines & Ariana DeBose

"The Line" by Twenty One Pilots

[radioactive-synth]

OC first encounters:

tagged by @strangefable thank you <3.

tag: @ruvviks @henbased @tunarath @ecofear @alongtidesoflight and who wants!

[josephseedismyfather]

wip wednesday

So many thanks to @direwombat, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @belladelamorte, @g0dspeeed, and @simplegenius042 for tagging me over the past week! 🥰 Sharing the progress on this month's art this time because I've also got a couple writing tags to catch up on!

Show me all the things you've been working on, friends! 🖤

Opt-in/out of tag list here.

@wrathfulrook, @trench-rot, @ladyoriza, @cassietrn, @redreart

@inafieldofdaisies, @hotmessteaparty, @buggknife, @malefiquinn, @strangefable

@noodlecupcakes, @skoll-sun-eater, @chazz-anova, @aristomal, @ocdemon-747

@evilvvithin, @carlosoliveiraa, @la-grosse-patate, @omen-speaker, @grimmylover7

@3llisarts, @scorpionsleeps, @cloudofbutterflies92, @simonxriley, @lady-ephemeral

@strafethesesinners, @shellibisshe

[imogenkol]

— WIP WHENEVER

tagged by the lovely @neonshrike

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @florbelles @adelaidedrubman @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @buggknife @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @d-esmond @loriane-elmuerto @shellibisshe @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed @strangefable @statichvm @kanos @cptcassian @nokstella @euryalex @auricfog

Revisiting some old writing again. This takes place fairly early on in the story. Warning for depictions of PTSD and a panic attack.

Jayde realized too late that she didn’t drink enough. 

The werewolf has slept in far worse places than the musty motel bed, but her troublesome mind kept her from getting a peaceful rest. Unconsciousness came and faded away like swelling tides. It kept her suspended in just enough sleep to rejuvenate the more exhausted muscles in her sore body, but did little to salvage the emotional drain from the past few weeks. She could live with that. As long as her body worked, she could keep going. 

But then real sleep consumed her. And the dreams started. 

Jayde found herself on the lonely narrow road again. 

To her left, a wall of rock carved out of the mountain face. To her right, a steep drop into a forest soaked in darkness. A bright moon peeked over the pine trees and illuminated the curved path ahead of her. Like a beacon. Like the hope she knew was fleeting.

Despite being the only soul in sight, Jayde knew she was in complete and utter danger. She felt it in her bones. Her heart pounded so hard inside of her chest that the ground beneath her feet became unsteady.  

With a choked gasp, Jayde forced herself to run forward. She sprinted with all the strength she had, but matter how hard she pushed herself, it wasn’t fast enough. She simply could not reach the end of the curve. But she ran anyway.

When she thought her lungs would burst from the effort, Jayde paused and hunched over to catch her breath. 

The silver light glared down at her in a silent command to keep going. Her muscles ached. Her bones hurt. Her teeth were on edge. Jayde directed her pleading gaze up towards the broad, bright face of the full moon above.

She blinked and suddenly the light turned so incredibly bright and artificial that it blinded her. She held up a hand to shield her eyes, but it didn’t stop the burning sensation to her retinas. A dull buzzing sound rang in her ears. The acrid scent of disinfectant left an awful taste in her mouth. The terror that tightened her chest only increased. Every single one of her limbs were paralyzed by it. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t cry. She could only fall to her knees and pray for this to be over quickly.

It was never over quickly. 

She felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed into the back of her neck. Heard the click of the weapon being cocked. 

“Such a shame,” a disembodied voice chided. 

Consciousness slammed into Jayde more violently than a truck. She launched herself out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom, sweat dripping down her back as sickness crept up her throat. She made it to the toilet just in time to expel the meager contents of her stomach. Jayde choked and gasped and spit up the horridness that twisted itself inside of her. This was a fight she could never win. Not even on her best day. 

Sometimes you just have to let things fuck you up.

After a few minutes, Jayde ran a trembling hand through her sweat-damp hair and slumped against the wall. Her pulse still raced and her chest still heaved, but she shut her eyes and focused on regaining control. 

“Fuck,” she whimpered as she felt a few stray tears stream down her face. The word echoed pathetically in the tiny bathroom. “God, I hate this shit.”

Her leg tapped relentlessly, but the sensation of falling into an endless pit wouldn’t go away. Her stomach flipped and the world spun and nothing within reach would anchor her. 

With a furious growl, Jayde pushed herself up and went to the sink. She turned the freezing water on and cupped her hands to gather as much of it as I could. The shock to her system once she splashed it in her face gave some relief, but her body temperature quickly burned the cold away. She desperately splashed herself again and again. 

I’m stronger than this, Jayde thought.

Silently, she gripped the counter and watched the droplets of water from her face and hair fall back into the sink. They trickled down the drain to join the unsteady stream sputtering out of the old faucet. It reminded her of rain – of the calm mornings she spent by the window in Nadya’s apartment. When she sipped coffee while the human did school work on the couch. The memory of her scent came into Jayde’s mind. Autumn spices as warm and sweet as the look in her eyes. A voice as soft as the touch from her hand. 

Gradually, her pounding pulse calmed. Her erratic breathing evened out. 

Jayde risked a glance in the mirror and caught a visage she was all too familiar with – messy blonde hair, dark circles under her eyes, faded cuts and bruises. But she noticed something different this time. The hint of a smile softened the harsh expression she nearly always wore. Jayde looked almost… wistful in her reflection. She shook her head at the ridiculous thought and dried herself off.  

Most of the motel room was shrouded in darkness apart from an orange glow of the street lamps that cut through the blinds. Jayde didn’t bother with the lightswitch. The clock on the nightstand told her dawn would approach in less than an hour. Might as well beat it to the punch.

The worn out werewolf threw on some clean clothes, freshened up in the bathroom and unceremoniously shoved whatever she had lying around back into her bag. The shitty motel room outlived its usefulness. So did the zip code. 

As she did one last sweep of the room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, Skye’s burner phone rang from her back pocket. It seemed a little early for her to call, but Jayde quickly answered without looking. “Have you been up all night on that damn computer again?”

The voice that replied definitely did not belong to her younger sister. And it sounded more frightened than she ever wanted to hear it. “Jayde?”

[ivymarquis]

WIP Wednesday

A bit of a character study/me skipping ahead/dynamic fun stuff etc?

This is so far down the line for the price x single!mom verse it's not even funny, but I wanted to write it out and see how I feel about it when we actually get to this point in the fic. John goes a wee bit off the fucking deep end :)

Y'all know the drill! No pressure, feel free to post a snippet of something you're working on.

“You won’t always be around, you know.” Michael has apparently decided he’s not partial to being above ground anymore.

The smoke from John’s cigar coils in him before he exhales slowly. Realistically he knows that Love is a sore spot for him and he’s willing to do anything for her, and yet he’s still caught off guard by the depth of the rage that washes over him in an all consuming fire.

“Would you like to clarify that for me?” Wouldn’t want to go flying off the handle after all if this is simply a misunderstanding.

“You talk a lot of shit for a guy who fucks off the second your phone rings. That clarify things for you? I don’t know what you or the blonde did to fuck with those results, but I know Sam is my fucking kid and I’ll be damned if you twats are going to get in my way.”

As Michael throws down his inane gauntlet, John exhales his now-final drag on the cigar, eyes flicking across his surroundings to gauge who is looking.

The man sure has a knack for picking the worst fucking spot to threaten the family of a man whose job is to work outside the constraints of red tape. They’re just secluded enough that Kate can see them if she looks but no one else can. And Kate certainly won’t give a fuck about what John’s about to do.

Without doubt, John knows that Michael expects to buffalo his way through this conversation and stalk off feeling he’s done something. Because the average citizen cannot do what John is about to- wouldn’t even consider it.

It’s the sheer confidence that John won’t put his hands on Michael that lets him snatch the other man up by his collar and shove him further out of sight from any prying eyes.

He opens his mouth to protest John’s grip on him, the perfect opportunity for him to shove the smoldering end of his cigar into the man’s mouth.

John has just enough impulse control to not extinguish the damn thing on the back of his throat, settling for the knowledge that the flurry of movement has knocked the ash loose into the other man’s throat.

“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page before we have this little talk,” John snarls. “I can be on the other side of the world and it doesn’t fucking matter, am I clear? If I catch wind of you sniffing around when you think I’m distracted, you’re going to find out exactly what I am capable of for a guy who fucks off the second his phone rings.”

John pulls out the cigar and shoves the other man away from him. “If we have to have this conversation again, I’ll be shoving the barrel of my service weapon in your mouth next and painting the fucking walls, understood? There will be a point where I decide you’re more hassle alive than dead.”

He’s not mollified in the slightest by the way Michael’s legs shake and he suddenly can’t look John in the eye- all the bravado sucked out of him with the realization that John is not beholden to the same rules he is.

“You’re fucking insane,” he sputters, hunching over and trying to cough up the ash.

“If you’ve got any sense to you, you’ll stay off my shit list.” John advises before tossing the remains of the cigar in the bin.

“Now if you’ll excuse me- I’m taking the missus and the rugrat out for lunch.”

@direwombat @gaqalesqua @strangefable @glossysoap @kneelingshadowsalome @deadbranch @bunnyreaper @mortuarywriting @391780 @divine--serenity @la-grosse-patate @g0dspeeed @luminousbeings-crudematter @ceilidho

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP(s) as Moodboard Tag | Tagged by @raresvtm and @rhettsabbott

rules: show a moodboard and an important phrase or dialogue from the current fic you are writing!

WIP: In Hope Of Tomorrow:

An all-too-familiar melody emerged in a low whistle as Eloise moved through the forest, a part of her hoping it would coax the Sinner out of hiding before the Judges would inevitably track him down and cost her her first real opportunity to get back into Jacob's good graces. "I'm done babysitting at St. Francis during the goddamn Reaping.", the word was almost a curse on its own when her eyes finally landed on a figure wobbling away with whatever strength he had left within him after days in captivity. "Come on, little birdie, it's time I get you back into your cage." Her breathing remained slow, even, as she pulled the bow taut and focused on the target. Eloise could have simply aimed directly at the Sinner, taken the clear shot, instead the arrow flew by his cheek, burying its tip into the tree next to him and announcing her presence. What's a manhunt without a hunt? She knew the objective was to get him back in one piece, and quickly, but that didn't stop her smile when he twisted his head around and his eyes met hers as she drew another arrow in a challenge. Fight or flight? I would enjoy either.

WIP: A Trial Of Errors:

Whatever hope Sabrina harbored about her mother cutting her surprise visit short evaporated the second the bathroom door closed much too loudly behind John, who had chosen the worst moment to get up and take her up on the offer of an uneventful shower. Candice raised an eyebrow before giving her a knowing smile, "I see you have company, darling."

Tagging, @strangefable @strafethesesinners @direwombat @finding-comfort-in-rain @jackiesarch

@simonxriley @cassietrn @socially-awkward-skeleton @voidika @imogenkol

@aceghosts @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @carlosoliveiraa @trench-rot

@tommyarashikage @icecutioner @purplehairsecretlair @wrathfulrook @la-grosse-patate

@theelderhazelnut @shellibisshe @killyourrdarlingss @dumbassdep @g0dspeeed

@gearvmac @cloudofbutterflies92 @justasmolbard @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries

@kyberinfinitygems @derelictheretic @harmonyowl and anyone that would like to do the tag 🤍

[jacobseed]

WIP // LAST LINE // MUSIC MONDAY

all in one bc i'm so so behind but i was tagged by @imogenkol @ruvviks, @g0dspeeed @tommyarashikage (i think that was everyone im sorry) to post wips and last lines of wips and idk what music monday is but like lets goooo

there's a lot in this so i'm so sorry lmao its been awhile since i've posted a wip or even finished writing a fic wow

some ronan x ellis i started writing on the plane a month ago

“Did you find it?” He called from the kitchen.  She hadn’t, for her attention was caught by something else. Underneath a stack of books was a wanted poster with a crude drawing and her name in bold letters - her name she knew, but the rest of the words on the page was unreadable. The eyes were too dark, the scars more angry and grotesque, and the hair was short. It was clear this was the work of someone who hadn't seen her in person but only heard the frightened words of bystanders who caught sight of her. Word of her infamy wouldn’t have reached as far as the small town of Faith and how he had come by a poster of her was unclear. Ellis holds the paper steady in her hands, eyeing the curve of the other woman's smile before turning around and heading back for the kitchen.  Ronan looks up and his curiosity falters as their eyes met. “Ms. Cooper?” She drops the poster in front of him and pins it to the table with her knife, the blade through the caricature's throat. With the other hand she grabs the front of his shirt and yanks him closer. “Where did you get this?” A quick glance to the paper and back. He holds his hands up and attempts to calm her rage down. “I can explain, but you have to let me go.” “I don’t think so. You can talk just fine like this.”

uuuuh rian / maxi / ghost anyone?

"Those two seem to be getting close lately." "Who is?" Ghost questions with clear disinterest, not even glancing towards his friend. A soft hum is his answer before any verbal response. He was hesitating. "Sinclair and Brennan." His gaze flickers to his friend and then follows the direction he is looking to find the two in question standing beside each other. The Irishman has his arm draped over the woman's shoulders, leaning down close. Maxine has the faintest hint of a smile on her lips but she doesn't shrug the man off. Rian's hand brushes over hers as he takes the knife she held and flips it around. Ghost feels his hand twitch and he's thankful for his mask to hide what he could only assume would be the expression of annoyance. "So? That's good she's getting along with someone." "Is it?" Soap teases, shrugging as he stands from his seat. "Then I better do the same - what if they get married? Then he'll be family."

LAST LINE(s)

"For fucks sake, Theo. How many people are you sleeping with? Next, you're going to tell me you're fucking one of the Seeds, huh?" Nathaniel can't conceal his anger - no, not his anger, but frustration for having such a reckless niece. Theo clicks her tongue and crosses her arms over her chest. "Really don't think this is something I should be discussing with my uncle." A stifling moment of silence doesn't have time to settle when Nathaniel speaks again. "You're not going to deny fucking one of the Seeds?"

and lastly my music monday contribution, enjoy this

tagging everyone again i'm sorry @strangefable @anoramactir @firstaidspray @pitchmoss @pavus @florbelles @carrionsflower @thedeadthree @roberthouse69 @carlosoliveiraa @shellibisshe @statichvm @risingsh0t @hollytanaka @confidentandgood @leviiackrman @bigbywlf @samuelroukin @cryptcombat @beemot @tekehu @evilvvithin @red-nightskies @pheedraws

[taglist opt in]

i apologize that this is writing and not everyone wanted to be tagged in writing but if you have any wips or just want to do the music thing, that's fine to!!

[theelderhazelnut]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @cassietrn and @imogenkol <3

I’m almost one hour late. Anyways, here’s a snippet of chapter one of ‘Rise of the Villains: The Advocate’. This may seem unrelated to Ombra or the Metalrealm, but I will spoil you by saying that your assumption is incorrect.

I leaned my temple against the window of my room. The neon lights splashed all across the city penetrated my eyes like tiny needles.

The bullet wound in my shoulder still stung, reminding me of how I wasn’t in control anymore. Assigning me to go on a mission for the mere sake of the training was another way for Raiden to rub my misery in my face. I was convinced that I wasn’t a prisoner anymore; I was a hostage.

I fidgeted with my pistol, tracing it with the tip of my fingers exactly how I would trace an ancient amulet.

The alarm on my bedside table went off: displaying the six and zero digits. It was the due time to receive instructions regarding my main job.

The path to the facility soon became blurry lines of neon lights. I would no longer observe and stare at the stiff and minimalistic architecture, or smirk at those who dashed pass me as fast as they could without appearing stupid.

However, it was the fact that I wasn’t bound to a wheelchair which made my eyes go wide for a friction of a second before General Blade began her speech.

“Ever since the fall of Brotherhood of Shadow, Special Forces have been reported with the leaked information regarding the escape of a number of demons, and possibly other Netherrealmer creatures.”

I clenched my jaw at the mention of the downfall of my most prized possession.

“However, wether they have escaped or have been captured is still uncertain.” She put a beige folder on the circular table between us. She withdrew several papers, and a few pictues. “These were taken during the past six months.”

I picked up one the pictures to look at it closely. It was the blurry face of a seemingly female figure, obviously on the run, taken from among a crowd of pedestrians. She was wearing a black mask which matched her dark skin. And her white hair glimmered in the light of the nearby shops.

My brows knitted.

“Does she seem familiar to you?” She asked. I felt like she was, subconsciously, blaming me for what had happened to these demons.

“Jataaka.” I mumbled.

“It’s not only her. We have also captured a picture of someone who highly resembles Kia. The rest of the evidence speaks about more subjects with demonic powers.”

Writing Taglist: @raresvtm @cloudofbutterflies92 @mids-stupid-shit @thedragonholder @tommyarashikage @malicedragoness @afraidofrabbits @ash-shark @darialovesstuff @bloody-arty-myths @vivilovespink @starneko123 @inafieldofdaisies @chaosrealm @voidika @aceghosts @euryalex @elderglocks @averytiredbitch @strangefable

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday & Original Character Template

Tagging @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies @josephseedismyfather @noodlecupcakes @imogenkol @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @josephslittledeputy @raresvtm @cassietrn @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @voidika @cloudofbutterflies92 @derelictheretic @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @yokobai and @seedsplease + anyone else who'd like to join.

Music for Life, Despair & Monsters, A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore and The UnTitledverse with an OC template for a new original character known as Raza. Listen and view under the cut. Including a blank template further below:

The "Court King's Favor"; the flowers that Malvolio has Corvus Targaryen consume throughout The Thorned Crown Of Iron Thrones (which also house the essence of the Court King), slowly manifests the consciousness of the Court King into the host body (inspired by Ryomen Sukuna from Jujutsu Kaisen). This, of course, has very negative consequences on the mental health of Corvus, combined with the stress of his family's growing civil conflict especially with the succession crisis with Rhaenyra Targaryen and Aegon II Targaryen. The more Favors he consumes, the more control the Court King has, and worse of all, his family notice his out of character aggression and qualities, leaving them to walk on egg-shells around him, further pushing his isolation and the Court King's influence. Hence the song "Control":

"I paced around for hours on empty I jumped at the slightest of sounds And I couldn't stand the person inside me I turned all the mirrors around

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out "Please stop, you're scaring me!" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my bed They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out "Please stop, you're scaring me!" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

And all the kids cried out "Please stop, you're scaring me!" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?"

Here's a summary of how Arcane Urias (with the help of his apprentice, Aggravor the Accursed) preys on new converts into joining his Occult throughout his travels in the post-nuclear Wastes of America.

"And it did all the things We designed it to do Now look at you, oh Look at you,, you, you Unstoppable, watchable Your time is now, your inside's out Honey, how you grew And if we stick together Who knows what we'll do It was always the plan To put this power in your hands*

Could I interest you in everything all of the time? A bit of everything all of the time Apathy's a tragedy, and boredom is a crime Anything and everything all of the time!"

Yo-Kai Watchlace is a Yo-Kai Watch WIP I'm making for The Perfect Storm saga of The UnTitledverse. In this WIP, Katie Forester comes across the old crank-a-ball device that gives her a Yo-Kai OC of mine who known as Shallow, and gives Katie a Yo-Kai Watch necklace. Shallow is aware that there is another Yo-Kai Watch user running about Springdale (aka Nathan "Nate" Adams), and pretty much convinces Katie to get more Yo-Kai then the other user out of pure competition alone. Meanwhile, the Prime Minister of Hell themself, Alamach, decides to pay Springdale a visit. Here's the main season 1 theme song of Yo-Kai Watch because I like it and think it fits the WIP.

"Gera Gera Po, Gera Gera Po!" "Whoo!" "Gera Gera Po, Gera Gera Po!" "Come on!

So sit back here's their story Nate say "Hey YO no!" Whisper go cracka-lacka-boom-boom There's more Yo-kai than taters in Idaho Like Cheeksqueek and his popo Feel that there? Way down low? Fidgephant makes you need a quick commode All is Gerap Po, turn back the clock yo Ha ha! See what we can see!"

"Oh my lost friend, who cares for him? A home is what he so needs Kids in this town They have family He wants that safety With nightfall comes great danger And things go from strange To so much stranger!"

"Gera Gera Po, Gera Gera Po!" "Yeah!" "Gera Gera Po, Gera Gera Po!" "It's easy, come on! Those Yo-kai ("Gera Gera Po, Gera Gera Po!") Make life awry ("Gera Gera Po, Gera Gera Po!") 'Cause he's got, he-ha-hah ("Gera Gera Po, Gera Gera Po!") That Yo-kai... ("Gera Gera Po, Gera Gera Po!") Yo-Kai Watch! ("Gera Gera Po!") Whoa yeah!" ("Gera Gera Po!")

Here's a template for a recently new original character known as Raza. He's pretty much the equivalent of a quest giver that kicks off the plot to defeat Rouske and his cronies in Yahar'ghul in some vague concept of a WIP that I have.

Here's the blank template below:

[josephseedismyfather]

wip wednesday

Thank you @direwombat for tagging me in this week's post! 🥰 I actually have things to share! Been working on Chapter 3 of Afflicted, and also sharing this month's art in progress. Writing is first rough draft run, not edited.

Afflicted ~ Chapter 3

Harley lay on the couch, not quite asleep, caught in that weightless space between dreaming and waking. The kind where sounds come in slow, like molasses. Her eyes were shut, but her ears stayed open, chasing the creak of the floor, the tick of the wall clock, the breeze through the cracked window. Salvador curled against the backs of her knees, his purr a faint vibration. Suddenly, he stopped. Ears perked. Head turned toward the window. His ears twitched. Then swiveled. Then flattened, his body tense. Harley blinked, hazy, starting to stir. It was faint at first. A sound that didn’t belong here, in the quiet pocket of nowhere she’d run to. It started as a low, thumping murmur. Distant. The windows began to tremble a little in their frames, like the house itself was unsure. Salvador leaped down with a thump and darted under the coffee table, tail puffed.

Harley Jane ❤️

Opt-in/out of tag list here.

@wrathfulrook, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @trench-rot, @vampireninjabunnies-blog, @ladyoriza

@cassietrn, @redreart, @inafieldofdaisies, @hotmessteaparty, @g0dspeeed

@insanityofvaas, @simplegenius042, @malefiquinn, @strangefable, @noodlecupcakes

@chazz-anova, @aristomal, @ocdemon-747, @evilvvithin, @carlosoliveiraa

@la-grosse-patate, @omen-speaker, @grimmylover7, @scorpionsleeps, @cloudofbutterflies92

@raresvtm, @simonxriley, @strafethesesinners, @lady-ephemeral

@buggknife, @shellibisshe

[imogenkol]

— LAST LINE TAG

tagged by mine lovelies @cassietrn and @rhettsabbott thank you!

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @tommyarashikage @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyberinfinitygems @voidbuggg @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @jackiesarch @a-treides @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed @strangefable @jacobseed

Recently got possessed by a bug to write protective/possessive Bix

His hand clamped hard around her upper arm. Imogen stiffened and glanced down at the unwanted contact with a brief twitch of her brow. She quickly contemplated a vast amount of options to remove it — all of which included separating the limb from its owner altogether as well.

Before she could narrow down her preferred method of retribution, Bix suddenly advanced on him with a speed Imogen had scarcely seen from her.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” the mechanic commanded fiercely, her eyes burning with the same intensity as her tone. She slammed her hands into his chest and sent him stumbling back a few steps.