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bookshelf-in-progress · 22 days

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For Love of the Princess: A Sleeping Beauty Retelling

The court was leaving. A colorful parade of nobles in richly-embroidered robes, with bright banners flying, were abandoning the palace with the king and queen.

And leaving Princess Aurora behind.

"We've no choice, dear," the queen had told her daughter in tears the evening before. "The whole palace will sleep when the curse falls. We've a duty to our people. We can't abandon the kingdom for a hundred years."

Princess Aurora, who'd been fairy-gifted with grace and compassion, had sweetly said she understood.

Margaret, who had no such gifts, thought the queen deserved to have her eyes pecked out by birds.

All of Aurora's ladies-in-waiting had talked late into the night--had been working over the problem for weeks as Aurora's sixteenth birthday drew ever closer with no chance of averting the curse. They had planned and theorized, but all decided at last that there was only one thing to do. They were, to a woman, going to stay with the princess. A hundred years would pass while they slept. They would wake to a strange world where everyone they knew was dead and gone. But not for all the gold in the kingdom would they abandon Aurora to face such a world alone.

Now they stood together at the palace gate. Anne, the eldest of them, with strands of gray in her hair, who had been lady to the queen before coming to serve the princess. Lydia, younger even than Aurora, fair and tall and full of energy. Celia, little, sweet and copper-haired, only a year older than Aurora. Margaret herself--tallest and most practical, with wisps of golden-brown curls fluttering in the wind. And exactly in the center, Princess Aurora, with her fairy-gifted beauty that outshone the sun itself. Margaret had come to view these girls as sisters, but as they watched the courtiers leave, she suddenly realized they were all the family she was going to have--that any of them were going to have--for the rest of her life.

When the last face, the last horse, the last banner, disappeared over the horizon, all five of the women stepped back inside the palace walls.

And were immediately faced with a problem.

"Which one of us is going to close the gate?" Celia asked, gazing up at the wicked-looking portcullis. None of them had ever touched the winch-and-chain that moved it. Who knew if they'd even have the strength to? Five women staying alone in a castle for a hundred years could not leave the palace gate open for any passing brigand to come through.

With a groan and a rattle, the chain moved, the portcullis lowered, and the metal bars fell to the ground with a bone-rattling thump.

All of the women screamed.

Had the curse come upon them already? Were they to be trapped here for a hundred years, never to escape? Margaret's heart raced--she hadn't realized how suffocating the palace would seem.

A man stepped out of the guardhouse. He wore the livery of the palace guard and had the first whispers of a mustache on his upper lip. He bowed to the princess and her ladies.

"My apologies, ladies," he said, in a baritone that sounded surprisingly deep for one who appeared barely old enough for that facial hair. "I did not intend to startle you."

He looked young and strong of limb. He carried himself with the dignity and grace of a much older man--had something in the eyes that made him seem wiser than his years.

Aurora gave a deep royal nod. "We thank you for your service. If we could know the name of our servant?"

He bowed crisply. "William of Avenroth, your highness."

Aurora gave her sweetest smile. "We are pleased to know you, and we beg your forgiveness for our outburst. We had thought ourselves alone in the palace."

"You are alone, your highness," William said. "Everyone left, save for me."

"You did not wish to escape the curse?"

William bowed again. "I have a duty, your highness, to protect the princess. All other considerations fade before that calling."

"Some would say such devotion goes far beyond duty," the princess said.

Serenely, he said, "Perhaps it does, your highness."

Aurora opened her mouth, then closed it. She bowed her head. "I am grateful for your loyalty, William."

She turned back toward the palace, and her beautiful face was pensive.

As Margaret and the other ladies followed Aurora back toward the palace, Aurora asked, "Ought I to send him away?"

"Send him away?" Anne yelped. "Why?"

Aurora hushed her, looking back over her shoulder. "I can not ask him to risk the curse for my sake."

"You haven't sent any of us away," Lydia pointed out.

"You all know me well," Aurora said. "He barely knows me."

How little Aurora understood her power. She was princess of the realm, fairy gifted, bright and shining. No person who saw her ever forgot her.

"He has served you from his boyhood, highness," Margaret said. "Though you do not know him, he is quite familiar with you."

Anne said, "He chose to stay, just as we did."

"It is not fair," Aurora said, "for all of you to give up your lives because of my curse."

Margaret said, "It's not fair that you were cursed. You did not choose it--but we can choose to love you. Let him make that same choice."

Aurora stopped, tears in her eyes. "Never has a princess had such true friends. I am afraid I can never be grateful enough."

She embraced each of them in turn, all of them caught between laughter and tears. Then she turned back toward the guard and invited him inside for supper.

In the Great Hall--now echoing and cavernous in its emptiness--they made a merry birthday supper, rejoicing over the coming of the princess' sixteenth year, and not letting themselves think about the doom that came with it. The king and queen, though not staying to celebrate the day, had left a celebratory meal behind them--roasts and fruit and cakes and punch.

Margaret had been afraid that the guard William would be out of place among them, but he blended in with ease. He was quiet, respectful, courteous, seeming to enjoy being in their presence, not minding being on the outside of their shared jokes. He helped to serve the meal, even brought some of Aurora's favorite treats from the palace stores, pointing out that they would not last the hundred years. Aurora was gracious, and, as the night went on, genuinely warm. She smiled at William with the smile she reserved for her friends, even drew him into private conversation once or twice.

Despite her assurances to Aurora, Margaret couldn't figure out why William stayed. Margaret had noticed him at the palace, had seen him serving with distinction. He was loyal, dutiful, diligent--but a man didn't become the only guard in the entire palace to risk a hundred-year curse out of duty.

It puzzled her, but she had to admit that she was glad for his presence. Having another person there made the world seem not so small.

The next day was a tense one. No spindles had been seen in the palace since the day the princess had been cursed, but curses had a way of making themselves come true. Margaret and all of Aurora's ladies stayed with her, trying to keep up her spirits and keep watch for any stray spinning wheels. William kept watch at the gates, hoping that he could fend off any evil that might try to approach from outside.

The sun was nearly below the horizon when Margaret and the other ladies followed Aurora into her room in the castle's highest tower. They all sat beside the window, watching the sinking sun, waiting for the moment when the day would end and the danger--so long feared--might pass by forever.

The last sliver of sun sank below the horizon, and all the ladies gave a sigh of relief.

"Could it be over?" Celia asked, with suppressed joy.

"Perhaps the king's plans worked," said Lydia.

Margaret could not shake a sense of foreboding. "The sun is gone, but there's still light in the sky."

Anne rose angrily. The shawl she'd been desperately knitting all day fell to the floor. "We've only a few minutes! What more could happen?"

The ladies began to quarrel--everyone's nerves were tight after the tension of the day.

Aurora rose--quietly, gracefully, but her movements attracted every eye. "Girls, let's not quarrel."

She reached beneath her bed to pick up the ball of yarn that had rolled away from Anne's knitting. "Oh!" she said in surprise, drawing her hand back. "I think I found your knitting needle, Anne."

She drew back the ruffle at the base of the bed. Beneath, they saw, not a knitting needle, but the shining, wicked point of a drop spindle.

Aurora fell onto the bed--lost in a deep sleep.

There were tears, gasps, shrieks--but they fell to work. Margaret could already feel sleep pressing down upon her, but she urged the girls to move quickly. They lifted Aurora fully onto the bed, arranged her limbs to lie flat, put pillows under her head, and covered her with blankets. If their beloved princess was to sleep for a hundred years, they could make sure she was comfortable while she did it.

Celia was the first to drop, falling to the floor in a deep swoon. Margaret placed a pillow beneath her head, and then did the same for Anne when she fell asleep at the foot of Aurora's bed. Lydia fell almost on top of Aurora, and Margaret moved her so she was stretched across blankets on the floor.

All this time, Margaret's eyelids drooped, her limbs became heavy, and her head split with yawns. She fought the curse as long as she could, trying to arrange a hundred years' worth of comforts in a few moments. But at last, even her will could not overcome the magic. Her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor, with half her body draped across the foot of Aurora's bed.

Her last thought as she fell into a hundred years of sleep was that she'd have such a backache when she woke.

Margaret woke to a world covered in dust. She scraped it off her face, shook it off her hands, brushed it from her dress and hair. Around her, the other ladies were waking with similar ablutions.

Aurora's chairs, wardrobe, dressing table, even Anne's abandoned half-finished shawl, were all covered in dust. The windows were covered with rose bushes, so Margaret couldn't see what a century had wrought upon the world outside. On the bed, the other girls were clearing the dust off of Aurora--but Aurora remained fast asleep.

"I don't understand," Celia said, as the hours dragged by with no sign of Aurora's waking. "We're all awake."

"The hundred years has passed," Margaret said. "But the princess has to be woken by a kiss of true love."

"Where's that supposed to come from?" Anne asked. "Any suitors the princess had will be dead and gone by now."

"Maybe one came from this century," Lydia suggested. "It's possible some brave prince grew up with the stories and came to save the sleeping princess."

That seemed as good a theory as any, so after they'd tended to their ragged old dresses as best they could, Celia sat at Aurora's bedside, and Margaret went into the halls with Anne and Lydia, in the hope they could point some wandering prince in the right direction.

The rest of the palace was as dusty and decayed as Aurora's room. Tapestries were moth-eaten. A kitchen's worth of food had decayed to nothing. Suits of armor were covered in rust.

When they found no princes inside, they decided to head outdoors. With all three of them pulling together, the kitchen door came open with a shriek of rusty hinges.

The doorway was completely blocked by a wall of roses and thorns.

Margaret's throat tightened. They had nothing to break through those branches. They were alone in a palace with no food. If Aurora didn't wake soon, they'd all starve.

Looking at their stricken faces, Margaret could see the other girls were coming to the same conclusion.

Then they heard rustling in the branches. The thick wall showed gaps of sunshine. There were flashes of silver, the sound of a man's groans. At last, the branches parted before a blade, and William burst into the kitchen.

His mustache had darkened a bit over the decades, but he still looked as young and dignified as ever. Though his face and hands were bleeding with a thousand scratches, he bowed with his usual courtesy and a hint of a smile. "Good morning, ladies. I trust you slept as well as I did?"

"What's it like out there?" Margaret asked.

"Overgrown," William replied. "The entire palace is covered in roses--a precaution of the fairies, though I'm not certain whether it came from the good or the bad ones."

William cast his gaze across the room, and suddenly became solemn. "Where is the princess?"

"Still asleep," Lydia said, near tears. "It's awful! There's no one to wake her!"

The look of selfless devastation on William's face made everything clear.

"William," Margaret said. "You love the princess."

This unflappable young man blushed and looked at the ground. "It is not my place--"

"You stayed a hundred years for her! Of course you love her!"

"I could never be her true love. I am only a guard--"

"It's been a hundred years! Some other king rules the kingdom. There's no one alive who'd object. You have to kiss her awake!"

William turned white and his jaw fell. "I could never take such liberties!"

Margaret put her hands on her hips. "Look, if Aurora was drowning, you'd jump in to save her, right? Even if it meant touching her without asking permission."

"Naturally."

"This is no different. If you don't try, Aurora will die."

William thought, then bowed. "I will do what I must to serve the princess."

Margaret seized William's hand and led him toward Aurora's tower.

Celia jumped to her feet as they entered the room. Her eyes brightened as she saw the guard.

"William! Have you found the prince?"

Margaret and Lydia pushed William toward the bed. "He's right here," Margaret said.

William stood beside Aurora, looking down into her serene, flawless face. "What if she doesn't welcome such an advance?" he whispered. "How could she care for a man she barely knows?"

Anne said, "Why don't you ask her when she wakes up?"

William bent over Aurora--then stood up. "This might not work."

At once, all four of Aurora's ladies said, "Kiss her!"

Ever so gently, with impossible tenderness, William brushed his lips over Aurora's.

Aurora's eyes opened. "William?" she breathed.

William bowed his head. "Forgive me for taking such liberties, your highness--"

Aurora threw her arms around his neck. "I'm so glad it's you."

Caught in her embrace, William stood flabbergasted.

"Your highness," he said. "Under the circumstances, I do not expect you to return my affection--"

Aurora pushed him away and looked in his face. "How could I not? You stayed true to me when every other man in the world abandoned me."

"You do not know me."

"I know that you stayed. I have a whole new century to get to know everything else." Aurora sat up on the edge of the bed. "If we decide that marriage suits us, I have plenty of bridesmaids."

With laughter, all of Aurora's ladies embraced her in turn, sharing stories about their hundred years of sleep.

Margaret went last, holding Aurora tight.

Aurora said, "I can't thank you enough. All of you, so true. You gave up a whole world for me."

As Margaret looked around the room at Anne laughing over her ruined century-old knitting, at Lydia and Celia teasing William--the women she loved like sisters and a brand-new brother--Margaret felt justified in saying, "If I lost a world, I got a better one in return."

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #sleeping beauty #i came up with this one on a whim #it developed beyond what i intended and probably still isn't developed enough #the ending kind of fizzled out but i hope it's not too embarrassing

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metamorphesque · 10 months

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🌼 poems (and a love letter) that helped me live through july 🌼

One Or Two Things, Mary Oliver

Kitchen Song, Laura Kasischke

The Breathing, Denise Levertov

Trapped, Charles Bukowski

Precognition, Margaret Atwood

Rain, John Burnside

Looking, Walking, Being, Denise Levertov

At Joan's, Frank O'Hara

You, Carol Ann Duffy

Time, Louise Gluck

Effort at Speech Between Two People, Muriel Rukeyser

Still, A. R. Ammons

Sonnet XL, Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sonnet XLIII, Edna St. Vincent Millay

Listen, W. S. Merwin

A Thin Line, Ryuichi Tamura (translated by Samuel Grolmes and Yumiko Tsumura)

Driveway, Richard Siken

The Sentence, Anna Akhmatova

Wanting to Die, Anne Sexton

Eating Together, Kim Addonizio

The Look, Sara Teasdale

The Starry Night, Anne Sexton

Hammond B3 Organ Cistern, Gabrielle Calvocoressi

Richard Feynman's love letter to his deceased wife, 1946

#literature #poetry #classic literature #poems #poetry recs #july #translated literature #edna st. vincent millay #mary oliver #richard siken #anne sexton #anna akhmatova #kim addonizio #sara teasdale #summer #love letters #margaret atwood #charles bukowski

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florencetypemaniacs · 1 month

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Ros walking into the kitchen and seeing mc in just their undies/boxers and just making coffee while still being half asleep. How would they react?

(Dating stage also maybe a lil ✨️spice✨️if comfortable with it)

⚠️ Mild NSFW

💛 Marcel

Marcel would stop when he saw you it felt so right....he didn't know how else to explain it but you standing there in the soft kitchen light made his heart flutter

Your boyfriend didn't waste anytime before kissing the back of your head.

"I love you," Marcel whispered in your ear making you smile as you turned around, now wide awake even without the coffee.

"I love you too." You said back, a soft blush on your cheeks which only made you more beautiful in Marcel's eyes.

"I want to wake up beside you every day," Marcel said, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your fingertips.

Your face felt like it was about to split open with how big you were grinning. "I'm sure we can arrange that."

🧡 Margaret

You almost dropped your cup of coffee when you heard a squeal, you twirled your to find Margaret with a hand over her mouth but her eyes gleeful. "You're radiant."

You tried to get your head around Margaret's outburst as she put her arms around you, giving you a peck on the nose.

You were still wearing your sleepwear, your hair not brushed, and your face not washed you shook your head. "I look like a hot mess."

Margaret gasped as if you offended her. "You look amazing! I always think you look amazing even when you're not half naked." Margaret said, rambling a little. "And you making coffee that means you feel comfortable with me which is so good."

You blushed a little at Margaret's confession. "Of course, I feel comfortable with you Margaret. How could I not?"

Margaret grinned from ear to ear, a blush coating her cheeks as he bounced a little on her toes. "How about some breakfast?"

You mentally winced at the burnt smell that was yet to fill the room but your heart melted at Margaret's need to want to make you feel loved.

"How about I help you make breakfast?"

"Deal!"

❤️ Owen

Owen watched you from the doorway, his eyes trained on your body.

"If this pretty picture is going to be in my kitchen every time I wake up I don't think I would be able to sleep."

You whirled around, the sleep leaving your eyes as you looked down at yourself, seeing that you had fewer clothes than usual when you left Owen's bedroom. "I'm sorry I was just making some coffee but I can go get dressed."

Owen stepped closer, his hands on both sides of your body, making you feel like a trapped animal but the look in Owen's eye didn't make you shiver in fear but something else.

"Bloody hell, Lass/Duck/lad...all I want to do is kiss you," Owen said in a gruff voice.

When you leaned forward and opened your mouth only slightly that was all Owen needed before he was kissing you roughly, his hands finding the inside of your underwear making you moan and Owen's started sucking your neck.

"I could get used to this, lass/duck/lad," Owen said as he started to get on his knees.

💙 Rosemary

Rosemary watched you, her body still and tense. You were making coffee it was so domestic and a small part of her that she thought was dead wanted to dance around the room.

But the majority of her wanted to bolt out the door because she knew what came after the soft touches and sweet words especially when they felt at home enough to make coffee in such a radiant state. She knew that the pain would quickly follow and the soft touches would start to bruise her body.

Rosemary shook her head. No you weren't like that. You were better. You were hers. She was yours. You loved her.

But didn't he say the same thing?

You turned around and Rosemary stayed still, watching you.

A lazy smile spread across your face. "You want me to make you some coffee?"

All the fear that Rosemary was having washed away. This was you. You would never hurt or force her to do anything.

Rosemary walked towards you, catching you by surprise when she kissed you deep and soft, letting a sly smile cross her face when she pulled back and you had a far-off look in your eye.

"What was that for?" You asked, still in a daze.

"For being you."

🩵 Tai

Tai was a creature of habit. He usually started the morning by Getting up or in his case leaving his office and making a healthy breakfast before heading to the clinic. So when things were out of order it made him irritated and itching to make everything the way it was supposed to be.

But when he left for his office, thinking you were still sound asleep in his bed, this morning to see you standing in the kitchen, looking so at home in his own house he couldn't help but this to be a habit. To make this perfect picture part of his routine.

If only he could convince you.....

Tai grabbed your hand, making you jump a little only to relax when you saw Tai looking a little flustered.

"Sit down," Tai ordered making you frown in confusion.

"What? I was just putting a pot of coffee on sorry if I have overstepped"

Tai shook his head and got two cups out. "While it is deeply unhealthy to drink caffeine. I to indulge in the beverage, and you are allowed to help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

You sat down, watching as Tai started to pull out silverware and food from the fridge.

"What are you doing?"

Tai flipped through his cookbook. "Making breakfast I thought you would recognize the action of someone cooking, Oleander."

You rolled your eyes. "I see that you are cooking but why? Don't you have work?"

"I am my boss and I thought breakfast would be nice to share this morning and a thank you for putting a pot of coffee on."

You smiled and saw the little fidget in Tai's brow. He was nervous. He wanted you to stay.

With a soft smile, you got up. "Fine but I'm setting the table."

💚 Zane

It was weird. No, it was downright odd. When Zane started dating you, a lot changed for him and what he thought was normal was wrong. He knew that his childhood wasn't a happy or healthy one but he still was mind blown by situations like this.

For you to be naked wasn't something Zane was opposed to and kind of suspected when you two got moments alone together but to be making coffee like you were in a gleeful bliss. That this was normal made Zane's chest feel funny. Although it always felt funny being near you.

You were making coffee which meant you might drink it here, near Zane. Which meant you wanted to stay longer maybe even eat breakfast together like those couples on TV did.

It was all so.....nice.

"Zane?" You called pulling Zane out of his own thoughts as you looked at him a little concerned. "You alight? I called your name twice with no answer."

Zane tried to shake off your concern however the worry for him made his chest become tight. "Fine. What are you doing?"

You yawned and looked around the kitchen. "I was going to make us some breakfast but the fridge is empty."

Zane walked over to the cabinet and pulled out some cereal written on it in big letters "DO NOT EAT! ZANE'S PROPERTY" and threw it at you. "Here. Have some of this."

You glanced between the cereal and Zane. "You're letting me have some of your cereal?"

Zane got some chocolate milk out of the fridge and fixed him a glass. "You are going to need your energy for what I want to do with you."

#My Inner Sins #interactive fiction #twine interactive fiction #ask #answered ask #MIS-Ask #MIS-Answered Ask #Owen #Zane #Marcel #Tai #Rosemary #Margaret #MIS-RO:Owen #MIS-RO:Zane #MIS-RO:Marcel #MIS-RO:Tai #MIS-RO:Rosemary #MIS-RO:Margaret

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 1 year

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Naomi Tanizaki (self-aware)

Self-Aware! Naomi Tanizaki x GN! Reader

Warning: Platonic Yandere. OOC. Mentions of wounds. Naomi thinks that she can't be considered a human being. English is my second language.

Becoming self-aware

👩🏻 Naomi's first memory in her self-aware live is her brother's face, red from tears.

👩🏻 Then Naomi felt her brother's embrace.

👩🏻 After Naomi gained self-awareness, Tanizaki siblings hurry to the Agency.

"It's not an ability. Yokohama wasn't broken. We are broken. We are fictional characters, who gained self-awareness. Try to remember your lives. Parents, friends outside ADA, what you did yesterday. Give it a try"

👩🏻 Naomi tried to remember her life outside the ADA. Instead of memories, she realised something different.

👩🏻 Other ADA members have something similar. They looked like they have some connection to reality. But not Naomi.

👩🏻 Naomi was not just a fictional character. She wasn't based on any real person. She has no connection to reality.

👩🏻 Naomi wanted to vomit. She felt disgusted by herself.

👩🏻 Was she something more, than a fictional character?

👩🏻 Naomi mindlessly follow Junchirou, when he starts searching for Yosano. She was silent. She doesn't know what to do next. She doesn't want to talk to anyone. Naomi tries to keep her distance from Junchirou.

👩🏻Then she felt the entity's gaze.

_____________________________

Naomi doesn't care about entity. She has too much on her plate right now. So, some observing entity wasn't the most important of her concerns.

She avoided her friends like a plague. She couldn't bare to look at them.

When Junchirou managed to convince her to talk, she told him everything. About feeling less than a human. At the end, she was crying and Junchirou was hugging her.

After their talk, she pays attention to the entity for the first time. The entity doesn't seem bad. It was just watching. Like a curious person.

And then time resets.

And Naomi was pretending to be a hostage, once again.

_____________________________

When they start feeling your presence

👩🏻 Naomi plays her role as hostage. At the same time, she was paying attention to the entity. They don't seem bad.

👩🏻 Naomi doesn't have an Ability. She may not be a genius like Ranpo or Dazai. But she is smart. And, most importantly, she trusts her gut feeling.

👩🏻 She will be cautious. But she will wait before making her decision about you.

👩🏻 At the Uzumaki café, while Atsushi was "guessing" their occupation before joining ADA, Naomi heard the voice.

"Naomi [|||||||||||||] can be admired. ,[|||||] manage to [|||||||||] work and school."

👩🏻 The entity's emotions feel like a warm towel after spa. Naomi adds another point in "entity is not bad" category.

👩🏻And then, Higuici led them to the trap again.

_____________________________

Naomi shield her brother from the bullets. And she heard the voice.

"brave" "as good as others" "humanity"

"Naomi, you are a brave person. It takes special courage to shield someone with your body. It was awesome."

Naomi feels warms on her wounds. The pain left her. She felt calm.

[*In reality, you gently run your fingers over the manga panel.*]

_____________________________

👩🏻 After Yosano finished treating Junchirou and Naomi, the siblings have another long talk. At the end, both Junchirou and Naomi realised, that you are not a bad person.

👩🏻 When The Guild joined ADA and Port Mafia's union, Naomi was the one who helped John Steinbeck and Margaret Mitchell with accepting the weight of been self-aware.

👩🏻 Naomi want to make sure, that they won't hurt you. She wants to be your friend.

And then, one day, the purple moon shined above Yokohama.

When you installed BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

👩🏻 Naomi feel honored, when you used almost all of your moons to get her card.

"Great, Naomi is home. Soon all ADA members will be together"

"Nice SSR animation"

"Is it okay to put Naomi, Steinbeck and Lovecraft in one team?"

👩🏻 When gang get access to your phone, Naomi will often serf the Internet. She wants to look at what topic you are interested in, so when BSD gang finally arrives at your world, she will know what to talk with you about.

👩🏻 One day, Tanizaki siblings and you will share a meal together. One day, you three will have a conversation. One dau, you will become friends.

_____________________________

Today you got another message in BSD Mayoi app. This one was from Naomi.

"[Y/N]! Hope you're doing well. Hope, that one day we will have a nice talk. We will discuss so many topics. Haruko will also join us. Junchirou will make snacks. See you soon. Naomi Tanizaki"

You smile. This notes makes characters look so alive. You choose Naomi's card and pet sprite's cheek.

"Well, if both Tanizaki siblings are want to have dinner with me, it will be rude, if I refuse. I would love to spend time with you. With all of you"

You didn't notice that Naomi's smile becoming wider.

#bungou stray dogs au #self-awareau #self-awarebsd #bsd #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungou stray dogs #gender neutral reader #bsd anime #yandere #platonic #Self-Aware Naomi #Self-Aware Naomi Tanizaki #bungou stray dogs x reader #naomi tanizaki #Naomi Tanizaki x reader

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sinon36 · 2 months

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Echoes of Salvation: Negotiations (Part II). Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x afab reader

Part I

Warnings: none, really, just some casual fluff and domestic stuff, maybe some grammar error and misspellings.

Enjoy!

The story starts after the dash.

Synopsis:

It’s been five years since the outbreak happened. Five years ago, in London, a terrorist group released a virus in the city center. 24 hours later, people start developing flu-like symptoms. 48 hours later the infected turn into mindless ghouls biting healthy people and spreading the infection. Everything happened so fast. The army came in and tried to contain the outbreak but soon chaos engulfed the whole country. You learn that similar attacks happened all over the world: New York, Beijing, Moscow, Athens, and Tokyo. City by city, the whole world is ending.

You survived thanks to your mid-twenties life crisis that made you move into a cottage house by the lake in Lake District. The land you own is surrounded by thick lush forest that offers perfect cover for the tiny brick house that is your safe haven. With a water source close, off-the-grid energy, and a garden full of plants, fruit trees chickens, and whatnot, you live a comfortable life tucked away, far from the dangers of the cities. You are so far out of reach that in the past years you only saw a handful of infected, survivors that traveled far to escape and distant neighbours that got infected in the towns nearby. You can’t remember the last time you saw another person. But you are used to your loneliness. The end of the world brought only a mild inconvenience, now that you can no longer order things online and watch movies on Netflix or HBO. But with a library full of books, a homestead to keep you active and your Border Collie companion, Bellamy, life is good. Life is peaceful.

One day, while you are out fishing, a masked man, armed to the teeth and carrying a young girl in his arms threatens to kill you if you don’t provide him with medicine for his sick daughter.

Once you get back inside you notice the little girl fast asleep on the couch a peaceful look on her face. Bellamy keeps closely to your side not letting you move without following. The masked brute stands a few paces away at the other end of the sofa, his eyes carefully scanning over his sleeping daughter. Once satisfied that she is comfortable he turns to you and gestures towards the kitchen and for you to follow him. You wait a few seconds and keep a healthy distance once you start following him. Once inside he points at the door and you shut it. You look around searching for a safe place for you to sit now that you’re trapped in here with him. You decide to sit on one of the chairs the one with your back to the wall. Bellamy lays at your feet eyes glued to him.

He leans against the wall opposite from you, arms crossed over his chest. He watches you, studies your face for a while. You try to appear nonchalant at his cold fixating glare, but your hair stands up, goose bumps forming on your skin. He clears his throat ‘I have a few more questions for you’ he says voice just as gruffy as before. ‘Like wise’ you quip from your seated position.

'Have you had run-ins with the infected?'

‘I haven't seen any for the past few months. and even before that they are rare and far in between. And to my knowledge there isn't any other person alive around this area.’ You answer as truthfully as you can.

'You're pretty isolated out here. No neighbours within a decent radius?'

‘Only the Johnsons, Neil and Margaret, they used to live about a half a mile down the lake bank. They were a retired couple.’ You reply a little sad.

'Used to?' he asks intrigued.

'Yeah. They died soon after the infection started spreading' you shudder, the image of Neil coming back to you in full force.

'How did they die?' his head lens to the side as if to take a better look at you.

‘I found Margaret dead in their garage throat ripped out. I'm guessing that Neil got infected when he went to the market in the nearby town. When he got home, he must have turned and killed his wife.’ You fumble with your hands picking at your nails and avoiding his sharp gaze.

'What about the husband? What happened to him?'

You dreaded this question. You take a deep breath to steady your quick heart and face downward in shame. 'I Killed him...' you say after some consideration. 'He attacked me and Bellamy and.... I had to...' you mumble your words not wanting to remember anymore of that terrible day.

He watches you intently, there's no sign of surprise on his face. 'You did what you had to do. There's no need to look shameful.' He seems understanding, but something about his look causes a chill to run down your spine. 'How did you do it?' He adds softly.

'The hatchet. I was out cutting wood for the stove.' you keep mumbling, a distant look on your face as you focus your eyes on spot on the table cloth.

'I see.' He says without any kind of judgment in his tone. You find it hard to look at him at this moment. 'You didn't hesitate.' He adds.

'I did. I acted out in fear more than anything.' you say lowly rubbing the back of your neck trying to rid yourself from the cold sweat taking over you.

He continues to observe you calmly, as if trying to understand you on a more fundamental level.

His expression changes slightly, becoming softer, less intimidating. 'Was it hard? Taking a life?'

'Yes.' You say looking straight into his eyes tone genuine. 'But I'll do it again if I have to.' you admit to him hinting that you are not as weak as he thinks you to be. You did manage to survive all this time alone and it wasn't all luck. You worked hard to build and improve the defence around your house and make it sustainable for a long period.

He notices your determination, and for a brief moment, he seems to respect it. 'I believe that you would, I’m counting on it' he says, voice still low. 'How did you survive on your own for so long?' he changes the subject having made his opinion of you on that matter.

'I learned how to farm. When I first move here six and a half years ago, I bought books on how grow vegetables and some medicinal herbs. Margaret was kind enough to show me how to grow chickens, I have a few in a coup behind the house' you motion with your head in that direction. 'In the back, there is a small plot of land with an orchard. Apples and cherries. I also invested in solar panels. I still have electricity and running water. Though on cloudy days the batteries half charge. I have to keep an eye on consumption.

He nods slowly, taking in the information you have shared with him. He seems to be taking mental notes of your capabilities as a homesteader. He speaks again, ’What did do before shit hit the fan?'

‘I am a licensed architect so it was easy to design everything around here, the doing was the harder part' you say proud of what you managed to achieve.

'An architect', he repeats in a low, amused voice, 'and you chose to live in the middle of nowhere?'

He pauses. 'What made you come this far out?'

'I wanted peace and a quiet place surrounded by nature. Cities were to crowded for my liking. I never felt at home there. But here' you look around you, 'here is perfect.'

You hear him let out a breath, seemingly agreeing with your statement and your choice of location.

He studies you for a few seconds, then says, 'You don’t have anyone else? Family? Parents?'

'No.' the answer is short and a far away look takes over you. that is a story from another time. 'Where did you come from?' you turn the attention on him rather than giving anymore information about yourself.

He hesitates for a moment as if deciding whether or not he should share anything about himself.

'I'm ex-military.' comes the final answer, spoken in his usual blunt manner.

'That much I figured' you nod towards his uniform. 'Is she your daughter?'

He nods without saying anything further. There's a strange tension coming from his body language. He seems to be on high alert. He clears his throat as if he needs a change of subject. 'You said you are an architect?' you raise an eyebrow at that 'Yes, why?'

'Are you any good?' He presses, not beating around the bush and being direct with his question.

'Um... as good as they come, I guess!?' you tell him not trying to appear humble.

'So, what is your specialty? Residential? Commercial? Industrial?' he asks very specific.

'Residencial, but I do have some knowledge of the rest. Why do you ask? You try to understand were the sudden interest in your carrier choices come from.

'Just curious.' He says casually, but something in his eyes suggests that he's interested in finding out more. 'And that cottage you're living in.' he points at your house. 'You designed it?'

'Yes' you say eying him suspiciously. His questions were awfully precise. But once again he changes the direction of your conversation wanting to know more about your house. He asks you about the house, the structure and the layout, how you keep warm, where do you get wood for the fireplace.

'You're pretty self-sufficient.’ He concludes. ‘How often do you have to go out for supplies?' his question catches you by surprise. Ever since you saw the news about the outbreak you haven’t ventured anywhere close to civilization, afraid that you’d encounter infected and be ripped apart.

'I haven't really left the property in the past year. The further I go is the lake for fishing. Most of what I own comes from the time when things were delivered to your door or post office. I used to buy items in bulk.' you shrug, it made more sense to you that way. ‘There was no reason for me to leave. Plus, there is a lot of work to do around here, animals to feed. Which reminds me of something…’ you say fixing him with a hard stare mirroring his own. He waits for you to continue.

'You'll have to pull your weight around here. Food and accommodation are not for free.' You set clear boundaries. You may be kind enough to let them stay, considering the threats he’d flung your way earlier, but you won’t be taking advantage of.

He sighs almost offended by what you said, ' I don't plan on freeloading.' He assures you. 'Good' you intend to hold him to his words. He grunts in acknowledgement before going on to speak, 'I hunt regularly, and I know my way around a gun. I'm capable of offering protection.' He says in a serious tone, almost like a pledge. His military training is showing.

'There is not much fighting to do around here, but I'll keep in mind.' you say with a chuckle. It'll be fun seeing him do household chores. You wonder if he'll keep the mask on while feeding the chickens or picking apples.

'I do have one last question.' He says, suddenly sounding more unsure of how to phrase it. You nod at him to go one whipping the smirk on your face and

'If our partnership is to work…’ he pauses seriousness taking over him like a heavy veil, ‘you will have to abide to my one rule.' You sit up a little straighter, your attention fully on him.

'My girl comes first. In a survival situation, every decision I make will rely on her safety. No negotiation.'

You nod your head in agreement. 'Got it. I'll try my best not to get in your way.' You promise tone filled with sincerity.

'Good.' That seems to conclude the interrogation. He seems to relax a bit, and his demeanour is less hostile than before. He rises to his feet and turns to walk to where his daughter lies on the sofa. You watch as he drops his gun and knife on the table and sits on the armchair guarding the sleeping girl.

You let them settle in while you busy yourself with chores. you go out to feed the livestock you keep, collect any fresh eggs, and tend to your garden. The sky begins to darken, wind picks up. you can faintly hear thunder cracks in the distance. It's going to rain tonight, you muse to yourself. You quickly finish your work outside making your way inside. Once in your living room you notice the absence of masked stranger. He is nowhere in the house. You put down the basket you filled with fresh vegetables on the kitchen table and approach the sofa. The little girl stirs awake and looks curiously at you.

'How are you feeling, darling?' you ask in a warm tone smiling gently at her. The little girl rubs her eyes, trying to get rid of the sleep in them. She then looks up at you once again with her adorable big eyes. ‘A bit tired’ she says before yawning.

'It's understandable, you went through a lot out there. What happened to you?' you ask pointing at her bandaged arm The little girl looks at you for a moment as if thinking what to tell you. 'I got hurt by a bad guy's dog...It bit me.' She tries to sound brave but you hear the quiver in her voice.

'Oh... that's awful. Would you let me take a look at it?' you say softly siting down on the couch next to her. ‘Yeah…’ she nods. She holds out her arm for you to take a look at.

On her arm, you can see the puncture marks. They don't look like a human bite mark and that makes you sigh in relief. They were telling the truth. But what worries you is the yellowish liquid oozing out of it. That and the fever indicate that the wound got infected. 'How long ago did that dog bite you?'

‘About three days ago...’ She says quietly. ‘...It hurts now more than before.’ her soft, innocent eyes are filled with concern, fear and worry. ‘...I feel hot...’ she added. 'Let's clean it and rebandage it, okay?'

'Okay' she says with a small, relieved smile. You fetch a med-kit and some disinfectant and begin to clean the wound. It's a bit irritated from the infection. She seems to be in good spirits despite the pain.

You try to comfort her by keeping her mind occupied with conversation while treating her wound.

'How old are you?' you ask her as you wipe her arm with some alcohol blowing a little over it to ease the burn. 'Nine!' she answers earnestly with a toothy smile as she looks up at you, still enduring the sting of the disinfectant. 'What's your name?' you ask remembering that you haven’t been properly introduced so far. 'Olivia' she says with a soft, cute smile. 'What's your name?'

You tell her. 'I haven't met anyone else with that name before' she says pensively. 'Well, we don't really meet many people anyway. Just infected.' she says with a sad sigh. 'Yeah, me either.'

You finish treating her wound and re-bandage it. A shiver runs through her little body causing her to tremble. ‘Are you cold?’ you ask, reaching your palm to her forehead. She is indeed a little feverish. ‘...A bit.’ She mumbles with a small shiver.

You stand up making your way toward a small closet where you keep some blankets. You pick a fluffy one and hand it to Olivia. 'Here you go, sweety'. She smiles brightly as she accepts the extra layer and buries herself in it. 'I'll go grab some firewood to get a fire started.' You announce heading for the door. Just as you reach for the door handle, the door opens and there stands the tall dark figure of the man, his hands full of firewood. 'Oh...' you say in surprise as you step aside making way for him to enter. Outside rain is pouring. He puts the wood in the fireplace and starts working on the fire. You close the door and watch in silence as he works. In no time a well-built fire heats the small house casting a warm glow from the fireplace. The shadows flicker on his face, the white mask adding a level of horror to the otherwise cozy scene.

‘Thanks,’ The little girl says softly to him, to which he only grunts in acknowledgement.

You quietly make your way to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. Bellamy lays on the kitchen floor quietly supervising the two strangers in your house through the open door. The dinner you had in mind this morning included fish but you were rudely interrupted, so you'll have to settle on chicken with a side of veggies. You work quietly and efficiently, casting a glance once every few minutes in the living room. You see Olivia tiredly saying something to the masked man and him leaning back, the chair reclined, arms crossed in front of his chest, watching you prepare dinner. Soon, everything is ready, and three plates of steaming food lay neatly on the kitchen table. You walk into the living room to invite your involuntary guests to dinner.

The tall man is sitting on the comfortable armchair, the little girl lays on the sofa next to him, propped up by the pillows. As you enter, they quiet down and stare at you. He slowly stands up, holding out a hand to the girl, but she swats at it and raises by herself with a huff. He says nothing and he follows you two the kitchen. For how big he is he his movements are fluid, calm and quiet. You can barely hear his footfalls.

The little girl sits next to her father and digs into her plate burning herself in the process. 'Take it easy, kid.' he gently admonishes her. It's a weird scene seeing him at the other end of your small table, still in full gear watching the two of you eat in silence. Earlier he was threatening to kill you, now he sits in your kitchen hands rested on his knees watching like a hawk and frozen like a statue. You cast a few glances at him wondering if he'll take the mask of to eat but he remains unmoving. Perhaps later when I’m not around you think to yourself.

You try subtly glancing at the masked man, now that you sit in awkward silence. The little girl eats hungrily, she seems to love the food. Her blue eyes are focused on her plate, but you notice that she also seems to sneak in a few glances at her father while she chews. They look at each other as if communicating solely with their eyes. Perhaps they could, after spending so much time together in situations that require keeping quiet and nonverbal communication. You’ve notice so far that he prefers gestures instead of words. Once she’s finished eating the girl turns to look at you 'Is there any dessert?' her question is followed by a small burp and a quiet laugh. Her father pumps his knee audibly into hers under the table and throws her a pointed look. ‘What?’ she feigns innocence. You chuckle at their antics watching them bicker.

'I have some cherry jam if you're interested.' you offer with a smile.

'A bit, please.' she replies. Olivia’s eyes are sparkling while her father looks as unimpressed as ever, while you prepare a few slices of homemade bread and spread jam on it. She sits closer to him whispering something in his ear. He bands down and you watch as he whispers back.

She seems to be a very attached child, and you wonder if that is a consequence of all the trauma she has gone through. His manners on the other hand seem a bit less harsh, slightly more relaxed, although his dark gaze still lingers on you as if his prepared for you to rush him or something.

After you finish eating you collect yours and Olivia's plates and dump them in the sink to wash them later. You then turn towards Olivia 'How about we get you out of those dirty clothes and give you a warm shower? you ask motioning upstairs were your bedroom and personal bathroom are. She looks at her father with a look of silent plea.

'Go on.' he says quietly with a nod. She gets up, excited to get a warm shower, the prospect of getting cleaned and changing clothes is too much for her to resist. Olivia runs up the stairs followed quickly by you, leaving the man alone to eat.

A few moments after you are out of sight, Simon takes off his balaclava and puts it on the chair where his daughter sat. he grabs the cutlery and just as he’s a bout to start cutting into the chicken he stops, feeling eyes on him. He casts his eyes at the door where your dog watches him curiously head tilted to the side and years pointed up. ‘What?’ he grunts in annoyance, and the dog gets up and leaves the room. With a sigh Simon starts eating, he can’t remember his last proper meal that didn’t involve expired cans of beans.

Once in the bathroom, you turn on the shower and set the necessary water temperature before stepping out to wait for her. You go inside your bedroom searching for some clothes that will fit her better than what she has. Her soiled clothes go straight to the bin. They’ll need a proper wash for sure. You wait by the door for her to finish. You can hear her saying something to you through the cracked door.

'I don't remember the last time we had warm water' she says from behind the shower curtain. 'Were you on the road for a long time?' you inquire curious to know more about them, and now taking your chances with Olivia who is chattier than her father.

'Yeah...We've been on the move and camping for a while now in abandoned houses.' she replies as she turns off the shower and steps out. She is wrapped in the towel, her wet hair sticking to her forehead and with a shy, bashful look on her face to which you can't help but smile at.

'Come' you motion for her to go inside your bedroom 'let's get you dry.' She happily obliges and you both step into the bedroom.

You help her dry her hair and then you give her some privacy for her to change into the new clothes. By the time you are done, she is completely dry and wrapped in a cozy sweater and shorts. She looks really pretty now that she’s clean, her pixie cut framing her round face perfectly.

She smiles at you and then starts looking around the room. Your bed is made, covered in cream linen bedsheets, your bedside table is nicely decorated with some flowers from your garden, and your desk is neatly organized.

A few books and magazines laying at the corner of the desk that catch her attention. She walks closer looking at the covers curiously. You notice her looking at a particular magazine cover, it shows a woman holding some gardening tools and a child playing nearby.

'Do you like gardening?' you ask her.

She shrugs. 'I don't know', she answers sincerely. Right, if they were moving from place to place, they didn't have time for that. Probably didn’t have time for many other things. The realization dawns on you. Growing on the run in a world full of monsters must’ve been rough on her, not really being able to be a child, always on high alert.

'Maybe you can help me tomorrow in the garden if you feel better.' you offer kindly. 'That would be nice.' she replies earnestly, her warm smile lighting up her adorable face, making her look like a normal kid.

'Okay, for now, let's get you settled in the bedroom downstairs.'

'Alright… but can I ask you something?'' she looks up at you scuffling her feet, the wool socks you gave her sliding and pooling at her ankles. 'Sure thing.' You turn towards her and wait for her to voice her question. There's a brief pause in which she mulls over, seemingly struggling to form the right words.

Finally, she speaks, 'Why did you accept us in your house? She takes you by surprise. You pause, looking around, giving yourself time to think before you answer. 'It was the right thing to do. You needed help.' You say conviction in your tone.

She nods a little bit, still unsure. 'But you don't know us...you could have just closed the door on our faces. It happened before. People keep their things for themselves out there.' She arguments.

Your heart falls a little, your hopes in humanity crumbling. You knew people could be selfish at times, but now they really turned borderline savage and hysteric. 'People can be like that when they feel threatened.' you admit.

'But you aren't?' she follows up your statement with a question. You hesitate a bit, her eyes are focused solely on you, their innocence and naïveté are so endearing it somehow breaks your heart.

'I try not to be.' Your answer seems to have raised even more questions. She is curious to know more. 'Why? Why do you try not to be like the others?' she tilts her head as if trying to solve you like one does a riddle. 'I don't know. It just doesn't feel right to me. I think people should be kind or at the very least not violent with one another.' Your philosophical reply is met with more confusion. '..So why did you let us in?' she asks earnestly. She doesn't understand why someone like you would extend a warm generosity to perfect strangers who have nothing to offer when the same kindness is so scarce.

'Well, your father did threaten me with a gun.' you give her a more appropriate answer, something she understands better: violence. She sighs. Her adorable little face drops as she realizes that her father's actions might have put you in danger. 'Oh.' She remembers your earlier encounter, her father's less-than-friendly approach to strangers seems nothing new to her. ‘Right…. He's protective, he has to be.' she promptly excuses his actions, her expression a little troubled but at the same time, she seems to understand. 'But he's not a bad person' she quickly adds.

'I didn't say he was.' you remind her. She nods her head a little, still thinking about it all.

She is very smart, it is evident that she is much more aware of her surroundings than the average kid her age, you wonder what she would grow up to be, and what kind of adult she would turn out to be in such a harsh world. You imagine she will be a spitting image of her father, cold and ruthless.

You gently lead her down the stairs and to the guest bedroom ending your conversation. Once you reach downstairs you notice that her father is missing yet again. 'He's probably outside smoking. He never does it when I'm around though. He says it's bad for the lungs. But I don't understand why he keeps doing it' she confesses. She sounds more like an adult than a child. She has probably matured fast due to the circumstances, but that doesn't change the fact that she is still so young.

She still needs guidance, she still needs help figuring things out. Even as she speaks of his flaws, she is quick to excuse him and defend him, she loves him and looks up to him so much. It's almost like she sees him as two different people, one good and one not-so-good. You wonder if that is just her way of trying to cope with his actions.

'It's a bad habit people tend to have when they are stressed' you tell her. You remember your college years going to bars with colleagues and smoking a few cigarettes from your friends. But you never bought a packet.

'Do you get stressed?' she asks you, seemingly trying to see if you are the same as her father.

You take a few seconds to think it over, but her innocent, naïve gaze is hard to lie to.

'I do.' you confess, '…Sometimes. But I do other things to relieve the stress.'

She looks at you curiously, you can tell that she is looking to you for advice on how to deal with stress or she’s just looking for options for her father. 'What kind of things?' she asks, her voice filled with childlike wonder and curiosity.

'Well, gardening is a good way. Bellamy likes to help.' at the mention of her name, your companion leaves her guarding post by the fireplace and approaches the two of you. Olivia hides a little behind you at the sight of the dog. 'Don't worry, she won't bite you, I promise. She's really friendly with people. Look...' You crouch next to her and stretch your palm towards her nose. Bellamy starts wagging her tail eager to be petted.

Olivia watches you cautiously, but then sees how Bellamy loves to be petted and she can't help herself from being curious. She cautiously puts her soft little hand forward, hesitantly touching Bellamy on the cheek. The dog allows it, and soon Olivia warms up to her and starts petting her.

She smiles at you as she does that, then she speaks. '...Does she like me?' she whispers loudly as if the dog might understand her. 'I think she does' you playfully match her tone.

Olivia smiles even more, petting Bellamy even more enthusiastically. 'What kind is she?' she asks, showing a bit more enthusiasm in her voice. 'She's a Border Collie. She is a dog meant to herd sheep and keep guard from other animals.' '…She must be very smart.' Olivia says as she continues petting her, her voice is full of curiosity and admiration as she says that. 'She is' you say with a tone of love for your sole companion. ‘Dad told me that the dog that bite me was German Hepard. A guard dog.’ She informs you the way children do to prove they are just as knowledgeable as adults. ‘Shepherd. German Shepherd.’ You correct her with a small laugh. ‘That’s what I said.’ She counters with an incredulous look on her face at you for not taking her seriously.

Olivia slowly yawns her eyes hooded with exhaustion. 'Let's get you in bed' You guide her towards the bed pulling the covers and allowing her to get in. Once she settles comfortably you put the back of your hand on her forehead checking for any signs of increased temperature. to your relief, her fever went down a little. It means that the pills still have an effect even after all these years. 'Good night' you whisper to her as her eyes flutter closed. She nods, tired from the day's events, and slowly closes her eyes as the sleep starts to take over her. '..Good night..' she whispers to you with a sleepy voice before she falls asleep.

You quietly sneak out of the room, closing her door softly behind you. You can still hear her soft snoring coming from inside the room, and a little smile forms on your face. You know she feels safe with you, and that warms your heart a little. You then head towards the kitchen, Bellamy in tow, only to discover that there are freshly washed dishes on the drying rack. You hum to yourself in appreciation. He may be a hulking terrifying military man but he has manners. You chuckle at the thought, despite the cold and aloof vibe he gives off, he still manages to surprise you with small gestures like these. It's clear that no matter how rough he seems, he does have a softer side to him.

Bellamy follows you next, and the two of you make your way outside. The rain has stopped, but there is still no sign of the man. He seems to like to disappear like a ghost. you scan the area around your garden, which is now damp with the fresh rain. Further outside, from the fence to the outside world, the darkness envelops everything. The light from your house is not strong enough to penetrate outside your garden. You take a deep breath the air humid and refreshing. The clouds hide the stars, you wish the sky was clear so you could map out the constellations with your finger, a favourite pastime of yours during the summer nights when the air is too stuffy for you to fall asleep.

After a while, the gate opens, and the masked man walks in, rifle slung on his shoulder, strap gripped tightly in his hand. The white skull on his face is the only thing that reflects enough light for you to make it out. A shiver runs down your back at his frightening attire. No wonder other people turned them down. He looks more like a serial killer from a horror movie than a human being. As he comes towards you, you can't help but wonder out loud 'Why the mask?' you watch him as he approaches you.

He doesn't respond to your question. Instead, he looks you up and down, studying you for a moment before he speaks with a firm voice. '..To hide my face.' He states in an obvious manner.

You stare at him dumbfounded the look on your face most likely betraying your confusion at his answer. He walks past you a small chuckle audible enough for you to catch it. He goes inside without another word. He's such a hardass... you think to yourself but you follow after him locking the door behind you. He looks around, most likely looking for his daughter. 'Olivia is asleep in the guestroom.' you point your thumb over your shoulder at the door. He stares at you silently which makes you really uncomfortable. 'You can make yourself comfortable here. My bedroom is upstairs...' you inform him awkwardly.

He stands there, not uttering a word, not even moving an inch, just looking at you, his eyes searching your skin and face, analysing your body and appearance with a prodding, cold, and distant gaze.

After what seems like an eternity, he finally utters a few words in response to you. '..That'll do..' he dismisses you with his usual monotonous and stern voice.

You nod and go up the stairs. once inside the room, you lock the door and sit on your bed. You stay like that for a while trying to comprehend today's events. You're unsure how things will play out between you and the masked man downstairs. You only hope that it won't interfere with the peaceful life you've built for yourself here. After what feels like hours have passed, you rise and start digging in your closet for pyjamas and a towel. You'll take a shower, hoping it will wash away the unease that seems to overtake you.

As you strip away your clothes and step into the shower, the warmth of the water fills your body as it washes away the cold. You let the hot water run over you for a while, allowing yourself to relax and forget the tension still lingering around you. After a few minutes, you step out and dry off by sliding your towel along your wet skin. Feeling refreshed and cleaner, you pull on a comfy set of pyjamas before returning to bed.

Once under the sheets, you close your eyes and try to fall asleep. Unlike Bellamy who snores peacefully on the rug next to your bed, you don't have such luck. You stare at the wooden ceiling above you. The house is dead quiet and you try to focus your hearing in hopes you'll catch something from outside your room. A few minutes pass when you can distinctly hear the faucet of the downstairs bathroom sink. You keep listening trying to imagine what he's doing. He's probably washing up, you think. The house creeks as the wind outside starts to blow. Soon after the rain starts once again, the sound of raindrops hitting your window finally lulls you to sleep.

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hawkeyeslaughter · 3 months

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What do you think would’ve happened to Trapper if Wayne Rogers hadn’t left MASH?

thank you for the ask anon !!

— i definitely think we would have seen some episodes exploring the strength of hawkeye and trapper’s bond , for sure . trapper’s temper is hinted at before he leaves but never really gone into in depth , and i definitely think that would’ve been put into use in the later seasons . i also think that there would have been some flirting with the idea of houlintyre , but i have the tendency to doubt it would have become anything concrete , sort of like they did with piercintyre . i definitely could see them making trapper and margaret close , though . i would have been interested to see how radar would’ve fared if he still had his ‘ aunt hawkeye and uncle trapper ‘ … in the earlier seasons we see times that it looks like trapper is closer to radar than hawkeye is , and of course we can chalk that up to trap being good with kids . and yes , while i don’t doubt for a second that trap would have his bitter episodes over missing his daughters , i dont think trap would’ve ever lost his essence . he’s so full of love that i think he definitely could have brought some heartfelt feelings to the last seasons and also some lighter aspects with his sense of humor . i also think he and charles’ relationship would’ve been ,, something . i’d like to think they’d be the type of duo like , ‘ i’d do pretty much anything for you but i’d rather die than admit we’re friends ‘ . sort of a begrudging admiration of each other . i wish trapper had stayed . i wish we’d gotten the same heartfelt goodbye we got with bj .

#townes answers asks !#cries and cries forever btw #mash #m*a*s*h #mashposting #mash 4077 #mashblr #trapper #trapper john #trapper john mcintyre #john mcintyre #trapper mcintyre #lgbt #lgbtq

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druid-for-hire · 2 months

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[image id: two digital drawings, fanart of the sitcom show Mash. one is a portrait of hawkeye pierce. the other is a short comic of hawkeye and trapper laughing uproariously, then frank and margaret looking frustrated. at the end it reads "and then hawk and trap got arrested." end id]

mash doodles from tonight

#m*a*s*h #mash #mashposting #mash 4077 #mashblr #hawkeye pierce #trapper john mcintyre #i know the show isnt spelled like that its just that way for screen readers #my art #all of these are referenced btw #i forget which one the hawkeye face is from #but hawk and trap laughing is from The Trial of Henry Blake s2

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johannestevans · 2 months

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The Devouring Gaze in The First Omen

The horror of surveillance and surveilling in Arkasha Stevenson’s The First Omen (2024).

Cap via ScreenAnarchy.

I was saying the other night after we came out of the cinema that for the past few years, it really feels like I can trust horror films more than virtually any other film — horror films generally have a specific, presumed audience of older teens and adults who know what they’re in for, and subsequently, they don’t always fall in the same trap of overproduction that other films fall prey to.

When I watch a lot of new horror releases, even though they are as much part of unnecessary franchising as a lot of other films, I tend to be able to trust that they’ll be a bit more original, a bit more flexible, a bit more intelligent in their use of lighting —

And but for a few flaws in the aforementioned franchise connection, The First Omen is a gorgeous exploration of all the mindbending and nastiness the horror genre has to offer.

This is hardly the first horror film to bring a young novitiate to Rome as the core of its initial premise — this sort of foreign transplant of an American to a much more religious, much more “classical” feeling European nation, particularly the centre of the Catholic Church outside of the Vatican, is a staple of the genre.

Why is it that a young, new nun makes such a perfect protagonist in a horror film like this?

She’s youthful, naive — sheltered. Her desire to be cloistered in part comes from the fact that she has been raised by and with the church for the whole of her life, and now an adult, she wishes to continue in that vein forever more.

She represents the power of the Catholic church to passersby, veiled and wearing vestments, even as a novice without being fully pledged and committed — she covers her hair to show her commitment to God and to Christ, she covers her body, and yet while she wears this uniform, while she serves as a symbol of the Church and its power, she is not yet privy to its secrets, or the information known to pledged members of the order, the sisters more superior to her, let alone the priests and other clergy.

Margaret (Nell Tiger Free) has one foot in this new world, and at the same time, it is a world that she’s always been a part of — part of the reason that Luz (Maria Caballero) invites her out to the disco is ostensibly to give her a taste of the real world, having only existed within the church’s bounds and its confines. Margaret has been in this world her whole life and has known that some information was kept from her. She knows that she’s sheltered, and yet the extent to which she’s truly ignorant not only of the wider world but also of the church evades her.

What does it mean for a nun to take the veil?

The veil on a nun’s hair is a reminder of her submission to Jesus Christ — a reminder to herself, a uniform she wears to be ever-reminded of the commitment she has made, and at the same time, it is a sign of her consecration, an indication to anyone about her that she has been set aside in service to Christ and the church, that she is not available as a wife or a sexual partner: she is a bride of Christ.

To take vows as a nun for some women is a way to avoid the weight of men’s gazes on her body, on her hair, on any part of her but her face — she is made to some extent invisible, a small part of a larger body, blending in with the black and white camouflage of the other women around her. Her identity is no longer her own but sublimated by the larger whole, and the only outward indication should be one thing — her submission to Christ — or the other — the authority she wields on behalf of the church.

So much of the First Omen is about Margaret’s fear of being seen, of being observed, of being looked at. In one scene after another, we are aware of her on her own, the only subject of the viewers’ gaze on the screen, locked alone in a room, or in a bed positioned in the room’s very centre; she is paranoid at times, looking over and over her shoulder for an observer she doesn’t catch or find, and occasionally finding an unexpected one, another young woman, another novitiate; when she is strapped down to be victimised by the bestial jackal kept in the church’s cellars, when she is strapped down once again to give birth, she is observed by dozens of veiled spectators.

These veils, I would point out, are quite different to those ordinarily worn by the nuns and worn by men and women alike — resembling black funeral veils, the veils over their heads in the cellar, when Margaret is impregnated and then when she is giving birth more resemble, in my mind, those veils worn by those feasting on ortolan, where the head covering is worn to shield them from the watchful and judgemental eyes of God, for taking part in so disgraceful an act. They wish to gaze upon their act of sacrilege, in their belief to be necessary to draw people back into the church’s fold, but not to be gazed upon by God, whose gaze is meant to be omnipresent and inescapable.

Margaret does not want to be gazed upon by these foreign parties, and she fears this constant watch she is certain of and frightened of — a gaze which, in retrospect, is clear has always been on her, a continuous surveillance that has plagued her throughout her life, as a successful progeny of Satan.

And yet, like her manipulators veiling themselves whilst wishing to observe, she does want to gaze at herself.

Margaret and Luz go out in sexy dresses designed to make them feel attractive in themselves, to make themselves look beautiful and desirable to others, but they still wear wigs to cover their hair, carrying on some form of their consecration even whilst seemingly going against their vows — and Margaret does not just feel gazes on her, but gazes on those around her. Gazes on Luz, on other women, on men.

Within the convent, we’re frequently aware of Margaret’s gaze as she looks at the other sisters, watches these older and more committed nuns laughing and smoking cigarettes, listens to them cracking jokes as they peel potatoes and chop vegetables, watches a nun bouncing on a trampoline — these are versions of these women that would never be permitted to be seen outside of the convent. Margaret and the children cared for by the nuns are privy to these moments, but not passers-by or random people in the street, those who would see these nuns primarily in moments of gravity and piety, where they would be representing the same gravity of the church itself.

We see Margaret’s horror as she watches Sister Anjelica’s brutal triple-barrelled suicide; we see her frequently stopping to stare at Anjelica and, at the same time, rush to cover Carlita’s eyes and turn her gaze away. In the scene where the pregnant mother is giving birth, Margaret frequently moves between one window and the other whenever her gaze is interrupted, desperate to keep watching.

There is power in a gaze.

Almost every horror film about the Catholic church, particularly ones that involve either young nuns or young children (or, in this case, both), are often in various ways metaphors for child abuse, sexual or otherwise. There is a lot of textual abuse of children within the course of this film, with implications of beatings and flagellation, but most of all in the ways that the girls (Margaret and then Carlita) are forcibly held down by the sisters, isolated, kept apart and lonely.

They live in fear of the power that the sisters around them have over them, and to some extent, fear themselves, feel shame and guilt for the ways in which they act “crazy” when these psychotic symptoms — their hallucinations, their constant flinches, their imagined noises, their paranoia, their sudden and unexpected outbursts — are either rooted in the demonic impact of their birth circumstances or might be brought on by the trauma already inflicted on them.

This abuse of Margaret, of Carlita, of others around them, each abuse is one power or other taking advantage of their more vulnerable position, represented first by gazes upon them and then by acts against their autonomy, beginning with shame, isolation, then acts of violence or restraint, and then graduating to the ritual rape of Margaret by the jackal-like demon, and her unwilling C-section.

Margaret, the whole of her life, has been watched and gazed upon by the church and by its agents — by the nuns who cared for and abused her, by Cardinal Lawrence (Bill Nighy), by these secret watchers intent on using her for her later powers, her potential ability to give birth to the Antichrist.

She fears this gaze, frequently turns away from it, and at the same time, she craves to wield such a gaze herself, to have the knowledge behind it that those around her do. The gaze is representative of a larger issue — the number of gazes upon her at any one time represents the amount of powers over her, the number of those who have designs on her she is not aware of or able to control, the number of invisible hands that might be leading her in one direction or moulding her into one shape over another.

Every eye on her is yet another power she cannot resist, and is powerless to escape — every eye on her is hungry, a devouring gaze that seeks to consume aspects of her, not only the submission she has desire to offer to God, but her personality, her body, its autonomy.

It is no surprise, then, that in the aftermath of the purifying fire and smoke, which hides both her and Carlita from view — from the eyes of those in the church or the eyes of God, who is to say? — she, Carlita, and her new daughter flee to a house in the snowy mountains, isolated together, in the hopes that no one will see or look upon any of them… nonetheless, they are tracked and surveilled and never truly safe from the church’s devouring gaze.

#the first omen #musings #the omen #horror movies #nell tiger free

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deaths-presence · 4 months

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Two of a Kind || Dazai x Reader Part 3: The Vanishing Act

Story Summary: The search for your brother has led you into conflict between the Armed Detective Agency of Yokohama and the Guild. Fitzgerald keeps you involuntarily, that is until you finally find your chance of escape. Will you find strength within the ADA, or will you only become more astray? Word Count: 1.5k Characters Featured: Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Mitchell Warnings: afab!reader, slowburn, plot heavy to build up romance, usual Port Mafia violence, lmk if I happened to miss anything please! Tag List: @decaf-nosebleed @isa-ghost A/N: If you want to be added to the tag list that has started, feel free to let me know! Don't worry guys, we're finally getting plot-adjacent and building up to what we've been waiting for. :) Gotta love slow burns.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Despite the Zelda as your new floating prison, you gawked up at the humongous vessel that you boarded with Lady Margaret and Hawthorne. The three of you had taken the rest of the evening to settle upon the ship, only paying half-attention to them discussing ideas for what they would do to properly make the Zelda the Guild’s headquarters in Yokohama; at least until they could procure a building. You could imagine Fitzgerald buying out one for the right price.

If Hawthorne and Lady Margaret noticed how quiet you were at the dinner table later that night, they said nothing about it. Your mind kept wandering back to the small battlefield you had managed to jump into. Your body had never moved so fast to protect yourself, but your thoughts were eating at you. Did you protect the right people? Should you have turned around and fought back against the Guild to protect those local to Yokohama? Where exactly did her loyalties lie?

Instead of getting that boy killed, I could’ve given my life to save him instead, you thought. You weren’t hungry enough to finish dinner, and you sighed in relief as Hawthorne allowed you to be excused and escort yourself out to the room you would be staying in. It was no wonder Fitzgerald assigned him and Lady Margaret to look after you. Despite having the opportunity to escape, you knew you would not get far without sustaining critical injuries. Hawthorne’s ability to manipulate his blood was crafty and hard to avoid, and Lady Margaret’s weathering ability with the wind at her disposal was something you didn’t want to be on the other end of.

You entered the room that was provided to you, momentarily forgetting that you were being held against your will on this ship at the sight of the environment in front of you. Nightfall had come and welcomed the glittering stars and constellations in the sky. Your eyes were captivated by the moon, its light reflecting from it dancing across the small, rolling waves of the water. The Tokyo Bay leading to the Pacific outside your windows was torturous. Something so vast and free laughed at you, trapped with no one to come to your rescue.

You decided to succumb to the bed that called out to you after undressing and putting on a nightgown, pulling your hair down from the ponytail you had put it in when leaving the Moby Dick. Your eyes fought to stay open as you shifted into the mattress that hugged you, and you drew up the sheets and blankets to stay warm and comfortable. It was the last thing you remembered until you woke up the next morning.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The preparations for replenishing the Zelda the next day were quickly turned upside down. Your hands stopped running over the purple and black polyester of the gothic-style dress you wore. The length of the dress shortened into ruffles that came down to your knees and seeing them made you miss having Lucy visit you at least once a day. Your hair was down to save you the headache from having it pulled up, instead substituting the style by having your hair in waves.

Your attention was cast to Hawthorne and Lady Margaret chattering back and forth. Your eyes went to the singular paper that was in his hands, and you couldn’t help but notice that it was written in something deemed childish. You started to approach them before your footsteps on the wooden deck of the ship drew their gazes to you instead of each other.

“I need you to prepare for our departure once we have everything on the ship,” Hawthorne said with controlled calmness. Between him and Lady Margaret, you could taste the newfound tension in the air.

“Departure? So soon?” You tilted your head inquisitively.

“I’m afraid the Port Mafia has threatened this ship and our lives.” Hawthorne gestured to the letter by raising the paper up.

“In crayon?” you asked in disbelief, gently taking the letter to observe it. It was short more than it was sweet, and the content inside was exactly what Hawthorne had just described to you. Your fingers ran over the waxy letters.

“Like I said, it’s nothing more than a silly prank on the Guild!” Margaret huffed in exasperation.

You were inclined to believe her, but you also knew Hawthorne always preferred to remain cautious. If this threat was truly authentic, then it would only be a matter of time before it became reality. Hawthorne was the type to protect his people. Whether that happened to include you or not, you were not willing to pry into it. If nothing else, you knew Lady Margaret would be guarded.

“Mr. Hawthorne, sir. There’s something you should see.”

You felt a cold chill run down your spine and spread through the rest of your body. Did one of the labor men happen to find something to back up the evidence of the letter coming from the Port Mafia? You didn’t learn the answer to that question with Hawthorne’s next order directed at you.

“Please return to your room at once. I will let you know if it is safe to return to the deck.” His eyes told you all you needed to know. You understood if anything were to happen to you, it would be a target on Hawthorne’s head. Fitzgerald would make sure of that after assigning your welfare to him and Lady Margaret. Instead of arguing, you nodded and made your way back to your room. If nothing else, you would prepare for departure after everything was loaded onto the Zelda.

It felt like minutes passed before you heard a rumble above deck, your brows furrowing in concern. You heard your heartbeat starting to pound with adrenaline, and you weren’t willing to wait and see if more explosions were nearby. You left everything behind as you started out of the room at a hurried pace. Several large explosions went off above deck in quick succession, and the force of them made you lose your balance and fall onto the passageway floor. You could smell the fresh gunpowder, and your lungs contracted at the polluted air. You coughed as you forced yourself up on your feet, your idleness turning into panic as you sprinted to the closest way out.

The smoke worsened as you exited onto one of the balconies, your eyes stinging as your body racked with a coughing fit. The distance down to the dock was too grand to simply jump down, and you didn’t have a supernatural ability in your repertoire that strengthened your legs to break your fall. Though, as you thought about it, there was one way you could try.

You focused on bringing out the Change that you wanted, picturing the wings extending from your back and spreading out. Your eyesight shifted, and it forced you to blink rapidly to adjust while the colors making up the dock began to change and sharpen. Your body felt smaller and blonde locks of hair flowed in the small breeze out of the corner of your eye. You would have to take that in mind with your next course of action.

You took a couple of steps backwards before running to the rail of the balcony, kicking your feet off the deck to jump over it. Your wings glided you through the air and delivered you swiftly down to the port. Your landing was sloppy, but you managed to survive. To save your energy, you quickly shapeshifted back to your natural appearance, thankful for the unclouded air entering your lungs.

Your body felt like it was still lightweight enough to be carried by the air, and you nearly blocked out the shouting of your name. Your head slowly turned to the voice, and you snapped out of your stupor when you realized it was Lady Margaret. She looked uncharacteristically disheveled, and you noted the large patch of deep red on her pastel ballgown. Blood. She was injured. The Port Mafia threat was real.

You flinched when Margaret touched you. As you looked into her piercing blue eyes, you saw that they still held determination despite the outcome. She looked different and bare without her sunhat and parasol. She must have caught you staring with the way she shook you by the shoulders.

“Run, you little fool! What are you still doing here?!” she demanded.

“Lady Margaret,” you whispered as you found your voice, “I—”

You trembled at how tight her hold was on your hands now. They weren’t threatening. When was the last time you were touched without it bringing pain? Margaret had decided it was the best way to keep your attention focused on her instead of the chaos that surrounded you.

“Run. If they get a hold of you, it’ll be worse than what Francis has ever done. Run, and only use my appearance if you’re desperate!”

Your eyes widened considerably at the realization. That’s also why she had decided to touch you. If you had to hide yourself, she was offering her appearance as protection. You didn’t realize your eyes were tearful until her hard push sent you backwards. She didn’t have to order you to run again. With Margaret turning her back to help defend Hawthorne, you took to the unfamiliar streets and began running for your life.

#dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x female reader #dazai imagines #dazai x y/n

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shochet · 6 months

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I think there is much to be said of Peter Strahm's outfit going from dude in suit v. post cube trap where he's undergone his tracheostomy and is now dressed in all black with his gauze almost looking like a priest's dog collar.. i just think there is much to be said to his baptism (cube) which results in his rebirth, where we see an unwaivering and rightous faith lead him to a violent death in the name of his convictions. He is so Canonized Saint to me. He's just like the lesser St. Margaret to me. Crushed to death as his punishment... so real

#saw

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jackiequick · 18 days

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Blah Blah Blah [ Once Upon A Time Fanfic] ❄️

Pairing: Snow White/Mary Margaret Blanchard x Prince Charming/David Nolan

Set during Season 4, Episode 11 - "Shattered Sight"

Characters: Cadence, Anna, Kristoff, Regina, and Baby Neal.

Summary: With the spell cast, tension runs high as Snow, David, and Cadence are trapped in the Storybrooke police station, bickering and revealing hidden grudges.

Note: I just wanted to have some fun, I didn't think much of it, it's some of my favorite scenes from season 4. Also I just wanted to make Cadie the annoying little bitchy sister in this fic haha

Click here to get to know Cadence Nolan

------

The spell was cast. People were pissed off. Outside in the town of Storybrooke, everyone was partially trying to kill each other. Inside the station that had just a few seconds ago been filled with smiles and laughs, now held eye rolls, yelling, and full-blown surges of anger.

Snow and David were seated, separated in cell blocks next to one another. Cadence was handcuffed to a front table, near Kristoff who sat on the other end of the table as she was trying to smack the crap out of him. Meanwhile, Anna, who wasn’t affected by the curse, paced back and forth, keeping watch, sort of stressed out.

The only one calm was baby Neal, who was peacefully napping, without a single care in the world.

“Finally, I’m seeing you clearly,” Snow stated with a scoff.

“What do you see?” David replied with a half-smirk.

“A fraud. A shepherd who has no business being royalty.”

“Well, I see a spoiled little princess who ran away from her troubles. WHO ALWAYS RUNS AWAY.”

“I can’t believe I had a child with you.”

“Who knows? Maybe you didn’t? Could be Whales!”

“Oh, shut up! You’re one to talk, David. You ran away from the farm and the castle more than anyone,” Cadence yelled, standing up but being pulled back to the table.

“Whose side are you on?” David yelled.

“Neither! You fell for THAT little brat? Katherine was much better.”

“KATHERINE?! You never liked me,” Snow shouted, “You were jealous because I stole your brother from you and that your EX-boyfriend’s mother hated you.”

“Oh, please." She remarked, "You fell for the wrong TWIN BROTHER! You thought it was JAMES NOT DAVID for months, he lied. You lied back.”

“At least I didn’t shoot my man!”

David glanced at her, “Your man? Oh look, she cares!”

“Shut up, I wasn’t talking to you!” Snow yelled, turning back to his sister-in-law, “So?”

“You shot him with a bow and arrow. You’re an annoyed little princess who thinks she’s always right. NEWS FLASH NOW, you ain’t. If you were right, you wouldn’t have married him or met me,” Cadence yelled.

“YOU LITTLE—you never let anyone help you.”

“I should’ve left you to drown years ago in that lake.”

“I should’ve let you get caught by those wolves.”

Both girls kept arguing with David jumping in shouting at both his sister and wife.

Kristoff rolled his eyes, “If this is what marriage is like, I’m glad you keep postponing ours.”

“You were gonna marry him, Anna?” Cadence asked with a laugh.

“Oh, don’t you start.”

“He sucks.”

“Hey!”

“He farts so bad, never shuts up about his reindeer and oh—“

“DON’T.”

Anna sighed, “You know what? I’m gonna go find my sister. And you two stay here, where you can’t annoy anyone. Expect me with your words.”

“You ran away from me! Anna, he’s a cheater, you wanna marry that?” Cadie said, spilling the beans.

Anna gasped, “You cheated on a princess, Kristoff?”

“He moved to Arendelle the next day.”

“I’m so sorry. Kristoff never ran away from me…I think?”

“That’s because he always had a thing for redheads, sweetheart.”

Kristoff shouted, “HEY! That’s it! You are a spoiled little rat-”

“You’re the one who couldn’t settle on a career!” Cadence yelled back

“You were a child farmer.”

"And you chose to be around ice and snow. You know who can do your job better? January!"

“Ice work seemed better at the time! So I studied it!”

“The whole town is FROZEN! Why are you selling ice for?”

“Farmer.”

“Stable boy.”

David and Snow kept fighting, while Kristoff and Cadence kept bickering. Anna tried to handle The Charming couple, but Snow kept making remarks, saying she was a murderer, causing Cadence to snicker with David barking over her.

Anna said sheepishly, “But you’re in love right? That has to count for something.”

“Love?! Ha! The moment I met her, she hit me with a rock!” David shouted.

Snow sighed, rolling her eyes, “Someone slip me a poison apple and put me out of my misery.”

Kristoff yelled, begging, “Me! Pick me.”

“Oh, shut it, Iceman!” David barked.

Kristoff bit back, “Oh ‘Iceman’? Who are you calling ‘Iceman’, ‘Stableboy’?”

“You! AGAIN the whole place is frozen! What are you selling ice for?!”

“IT’S MAKING ME GOOD MONEY!”

“You left us like it was nothing!”

~~~~~

It went on for a while. Until a certain figure showed up. Running into the station dressed in a black gown, was Regina with a fierce growl and a smirk. Cadence scoffed, Snow and David looked annoyed, Kristoff was searching for something to knock himself out with, and Anna was plain out confused.

Cadence muttered, “This is gonna be interesting.”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my lucky day. I originally came here to kill Emma, but now I get to kill the two idiots who started it all! And their personal sidekick!” Regina yelled.

“HEY!”

“You know who you are!”

“I served your ass for years.”

“But you went running back to them.”

David scoffed, “Well, in our defense, we didn’t tell Cora about your secret boyfriend.”

“Yeah, it was her!” Cadence agreed, pointing to her sister-in-law.

Snow furrowed her brows and remarked, “ARE YOU SELLING ME OUT?!”

“SHUDDAP! You all deserve to die, not just for what you did, but for your whining!” Regina shouted over them, pointing around to the trio, “But your punishment should fit your crime. You took my first true love from me, and now I’m gonna return the favor. By taking your baby.”

The trio yelled and shouted over one another for Regina to stop, as she poofed Kristoff and Anna away, throwing Snow’s door open and tossing Cadence into the same cell as her brother.

Snow and Regina squared off, with swords. The fighting soon commenced, dueling out in front of the shared cells. Soon enough, Regina towered over Snow nearby the desk. Across the desk stood the stroller.

“CAREFUL! The stroller's not under warranty anymore.” David called.

Snow strained, “You said you bought it new!”

“It was slightly used!”

Cadence recounted, “It was gently used!”

Snow grunted, kicking Regina off her, swaying the sword towards her midriff as she pushed back.

Regina glared, “Tell me when you’re tired of missing, Mary Margaret.”

Snow half-smirked, “I only have to hit you once.”

She swung and missed, Regina pushed her away, and both slipped on the flooring of the station. They used everything around them to fight: stacked papers, clothes, and small figurines. One of them was a tiny dog and a deep blue sweater.

“Hey!” Cadence called out.

Snow looked over her shoulder, “Is that my sweater?!”

“You never used it.”

“I was saving it for an occasion.”

“Like when?!”

Regina looked around to see if Cadence stole anything from her as well. However, as she was distracted, Snow took the upper hand, wrapping her arms around the woman and slamming them both against the cell block.

David and Cadence tried to take the upper hand, helping Snow as Regina pushed herself away from the trio.

The fight kept going back and forth, with David and Cadence watching like two school kids. They tried breaking out of the cell, but it was no use.

They screamed and shouted the whole time, even making remarks to Snow and Regina.

“Uppercut! Lock her onto the table,” Cadence yelled toward Snow. “Seriously?!” David looked at his sister.

“I’m helping!”

“At least tell her to swing the sword upwards to cut her cheek or something!”

“Oh, good idea! Snow, do that!”

~~~

Suddenly, a burst of magic flew across Storybrooke, hitting the Police Station, causing everyone to feel like they were slapped across the face and pushed forward like they were asleep. Breaking the short spell.

They all looked around, oddly confused, seeing swords in hands, papers on the floor, small figurines, and the front desk being pushed backwards.

Regina looked down at herself, seeing herself in her Evil Queen dress with her hair all messed up and dropped her sword. Cadence saw herself snickering as it turned into a set of giggles and laughter.

Regina looked ridiculous, honestly.

“What am I wearing?” Regina asked.

Snow looked at her, breaking into a small fit of chuckles that turned into laughter, followed by Regina laughing alongside her.

David was leaning against the bars of the cell, snorting and laughing so hard, he rolled onto the floor.

~~~~~

That's all folks! Let me know what you guys think Remember to like, comment and share

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff Paul @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @djs8891 @starkleila @cherrysft @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @topgun-imagines @hardballoonlove @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @nakiaswg @carellmcu @ximehs @sofia-falcone @rooster-84 and etc

#once upon a time #once upon a time oc #fyeahonceuponatimeocs #ouat fanfiction #ouat humor #regina mills #snow white #david nolan #mary margaret x david #prince charming #snowing #ouat imagine #ouat rewatch #melissa benoist #frozen #ouat s4 #shattered sight #ouat snow white #4x11

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