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dr-archeville · 4 years

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The North Carolina Piedmont chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America and Mutual Aid Carrboro established the COVID-19 Mutual Aid Relief Fund to raise money for local workers with lost wages during the shutdown. According to NC Piedmont DSA fundraising chair Danny Nowell, it’s already raised more than $40,000, which is being disbursed in $150 emergency grants to lightly screened applicants.

But Nowell says the need is so great that they’ve only been able to help half of the applicants so far. In the hopes of helping the campaign pick up steam, they’re launching a new livestream concert series featuring well-liked local musicians. It begins this Sunday, April 26, at 7:30 p.m., with Mipso violinist Libby Rodenbough, and continues on subsequent Sundays with the likes of Kate Rhudy, Chessa Rich, Anne-Claire, and Hardworker.

Because musicians are included among workers losing wages, the first $150 raised by each performance will pay them, and the rest will go into the fund for grant applicants. We chatted with Nowell about toppling capitalism, the value of need-targeted mutual aid, and more.

INDY: What does the NC Piedmont DSA do on a day-to-day, overall-mission basis?

DANNY NOWELL: DSA is the nation’s largest socialist organization, dedicated to democratically bringing about a worker-controlled economy — you know, ending the capitalist order and all that. Crucially, we’re not a political party, and one reason for that is we recognize we’re a long way away from “toppling capitalism” on a broad scale. We want local chapters to be empowered to deploy a wide range of tactics fighting corporate power, building community, decreasing the influence of money in politics, and building local structures based on equitable gender, racial, and interpersonal dynamics.

Pardon the buzzwords: Basically, DSA is intentionally a big-tent organization because we recognize that any single path toward defeating capitalism is unlikely to succeed alone, so we’re trying to fight on every front we can. But the NC Piedmont chapter has several issues that have been particularly galvanizing for our members. We’re working hard to support direct action against the Neo-Confederate racists dragging the region’s name through the mud on our campuses, at our Capitol, and in our county seats. We’re building eco-socialist campaigns against local polluters and environmental exploiters in our community, like the UNC coal plant. And of course, we’re building our capacity to support progressive candidates at every level of local elections, from town councils to county commissioners on up.

We have seen a tremendous influx of new members and new energy because of the Sanders campaign, and because we have so much of that new energy, a lot of what we try to do as a chapter is connect folks who come in looking to help out immediately with local organizations that have been in their specific fights much longer. I should mention we are always looking for more people-power, and anyone who wants to get more connected can shoot us a message at [email protected]. We’re very friendly, not least because we need a lot more boots!

What have you been doing since the COVID-19 shutdown?

We’ve really poured a lot of our efforts into this partnership with Mutual Aid Carrboro to raise funds for workers who are losing wages due to the pandemic. I think pretty much everyone has seen what a total failure the government’s response has been at every level in this country. With the exception of a few state governments taking bare-minimum measures and local officials doing what they can, our government has really seized the opportunity to consolidate wealth among the capital class and keep workers subject to the whims of the wealthy.

Mutual Aid is the perfect antidote to that whole nightmare, and the folks we’ve worked with at Mutual Aid Carrboro have a long history of showing up for their neighbors when they’re needed. With a very simple mission of taking personal responsibility and providing help to community members who need it, they’ve expanded our sense of who our neighbors really are. They’re also living, breathing reminders of the fact that when times get hard, there’s a bunch of shit that needs doing, and you don’t build stronger communities by waiting for someone else to do it.

We recently cleared our initial goal of raising $45,000 dollars, which we’re really proud of, but one of the reasons we’re launching this streaming series is because the need is so great we still have a ton more folks who’ve applied for aid. We wanted to tap into the music scene, which to my mind is one of the Triangle’s great cultural resources, to try and generate some extra momentum for a second wave of fundraising and generally make the work Mutual Aid is doing more visible.

What kind of workers clear the bar for aid?

Any, really, though we’ve mostly relied on Mutual Aid’s deep ties in immigrant, refugee, lower-income, and service-worker communities to spread word of the fund organically. It helps if workers are in the Triangle, and certainly in the state, and we do some screening about what the funds will go toward, but our mission is to build solidarity among many different kinds of workers, and we’re trying to practice that here.

Where do folks apply for the fund?

We were so overwhelmed by the initial wave of applications that we had to close our application portal to allow our fundraising to catch up. We’ve been able to reopen as we’ve crossed the $45,000 threshold, but we’re really relying on Mutual Aid’s grassroots network among folks who are feeling this moment the most to circulate the application. I’d encourage anyone looking for help to get in touch with us at [email protected]. We hate to add an extra step, but we’ve been really effective circulating the application among communities who need it most, and we’ll be happy to connect anyone looking for help.

Why $150 increments?

We landed on $150 because it’s a sum that can have some pretty big impacts — a prescription for someone uninsured, a utility bill, a fairly significant grocery purchase to buy a family time — without too rapidly depleting our resources. We wanted to find a number that would allow folks to take care of some pressing needs while still allowing us to help as many applicants as we could.

How did you connect with the artists performing in the series?

So far, it’s mostly been artists that I have a personal relationship with. I play in the Durham folk-rock band Hardworker, and most of the early artists are folks that I knew had a comradely bent from sharing bills or just getting to know them over the last few years. That said, we’re really eager to diversify the genres and range of performers, and we’re talking to some artists we think will help do that about whom we’re really excited.

Where will the streams be filmed?

Every artist will be performing from their home, so as to keep things super responsible and honor social distancing. I’ve done some test streams myself and built out some tips and tricks, and we’ve sourced the equipment we need to provide to performers who don’t have the necessary setup.

Where can readers watch them?

These will air on YouTube, starting with Libby Rodenbough’s performance this Sunday at 7:30 pm. We’d love it if folks would follow us on Facebook and RSVP to our event, but they can also view it directly on YouTube.

Contact arts and culture editor Brian Howe at [email protected].

DEAR READERS, WE NEED YOUR HELP NOW MORE THAN EVER. Support independent local journalism by joining the INDY Press Club today. Your contributions will keep our fearless watchdog reporting and essential arts and culture coverage viable in the Triangle, coronavirus be damned.

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#Democratic Socialists of America #Kate Rhudy #Mutual Aid #Libby Rodenbough #Chessa Rich #Anne Claire #Hardworker #music

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fanfictionaries · 4 years

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A Sin Confessed - What’s Old is New Again Challenge

Prompt: “I do everything for a reason. Most of the time the reason is money.” – Ava Gardner

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Original Female Character

Summary: Brenna Wright was not a good person and the blue-eyed stranger that brought old memories to the surface of her mind? Well he was just a job.

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Swearing, smut, dark, NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: Thank you to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for this lovely challenge and the opportunity for me to explore a darker side of my writing! Also thank you to @justareader for checking over my French (I’m a little rusty)!

I loved writing this and honestly think Brenna might have to be a reoccurring character/this fic might need a part two...Enjoy!

***

Brenna Wright was not a good person. Anyone who thought otherwise was either unfortunately ignorant or foolishly optimistic.

Things that would stop others in their tracks, were as simple as picking out furniture or ordering food at a restaurant for her. It was never a question of whether she should or should not – only the dilemma of who, what and how much. Sure, she had her limits. Every woman did. The only difference being, the limits of most were trivial aspects of pride, egoism, and disillusioned self-respect. Hers were simple – no children and no animals. Therefore, everything else was up for grabs. Theft. Arson. Intimidation. Kidnapping. Torture. Murder. And her personal specialty – bounty. For the right price of course. She wasn’t an idiot. And she sure as hell wasn’t cheap.

Good guys. Bad guys. She’d worked for them all. From those of renowned self-importance all the way down to the lowest of nobodies. She couldn’t care less. As long as she got paid, she did her job. No questions asked.

“Haven’t seen you for a while,” said the owner of the small corner store. He was an older gentleman, greasy around the edges with a wandering eye that made even her skin crawl. But the store was convenient. It was small, indistinct, and located in the middle of the city. Which meant the area around it was large and busy enough to make someone traveling to it invisible. People often frequented the location when they found themselves in need of discretion. Sure, there were plenty of other shops in the city that fit the same bill, but only this one sold the more…unsavory items. Eventually, the people she was looking for always showed up here.

“I’ve been working,” Brenna replied, hugging the oversized coat around her body and taking a moment to scratch at her arms and the side of her face – imitating the mannerisms of the part she was playing.

Letting out a short, boisterous laugh, the shopkeeper eyed her up and down from her unkept curls to her dirty clothes, and seemingly drugged out appearance, “I’ve got a few ways in mind on how you can make a little extra cash.”

“Il faut tourner sept fois sa langue dans sa bouche avant de parler,” she seethed under her breath, turning from his leering gaze and heading down an aisle. If the man was smart – he’d watch his mouth. But then again, she was only the woman he’d watched dissolve into addiction and mental illness for the past four years. And he was useful. If she killed him, it was unlikely the next owner would be as conveniently idiotic with a streak for the illegal.

Pretending to fiddle with a packet of gum, her eyes darted to the front door. The familiar chime sounded through the air and Brenna kept her eyes low as she covertly checked out the stranger who’d just entered. He was tall and large, his size taking up an impressive amount of space in the tiny shop. His figure, while solid and imposing, held a contrasting lightness to it. The juxtaposition of his heavy density but delicate way in which he stepped intrigued her. Stumbling through the aisles, she made sure to draw enough attention to catch his eye. Reveling when the stranger’s gaze darted to her for the slightest of seconds, she turned to the cooler and began to mumble nonsense under her breath as she used the reflection of the glass to continue watching.

“Can I help you?” the shopkeeper asked, standing taller and squaring his shoulders in a pathetic attempt to make himself seem intimidating. The stranger didn’t seem fazed in the least, stepping up to the counter.

“I need papers,” said the stranger, his voice a soothing gravelly tone.

“Papers?” The shopkeeper feigned an incredulous, dumb expression, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Brenna rolled her eyes; it was the same every time. Why the man bothered, she had no idea. He always dropped the act after the second inquiry.

“Listen – let’s not waste our time. I know you provide papers, so just take this—” the stranger spoke low and firmly, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a heavy manila folder before slamming it onto the counter “—and do your fucking job.”

Brenna’s eyebrows rose against her will; that was definitely a response she had never heard before. You’d think from the ease in which the stranger handled the situation, he’d been here before – but he hadn’t. She knew that. Even when she wasn’t here, she kept tabs on all her spots. A flash of metallic silver caught her eye. A sliver of metal peeking through the gap between his gloved hand and clothed arm.

Bingo.

Reaching into the cooler and grabbing a forty of malt liquor, she stumbled to the front, pushing herself between the stranger and the tense shopkeeper.

“Listen—” she slurred “—Chessa. I don’t have enough for this today, but I swear, I’ll have the money tomorrow.”

“I’m dealing with a customer here woman, besides you know the rules – no handouts. I’m not running a charity for fucking junkies.”

“Oh, come on, Chessa. You know I’m good for it!” she pleaded, knocking into the stranger and leaning heavily over the counter. “I’m good for the money Chessa. I’m good for it.”

The harsh smack of the back of shopkeeper’s hand to the side of her face made her head snap to the side and her ears ring. The throbbing pain and blood that pooled in her mouth was expected but not the worst she’d ever felt – he hit like a fucking bitch.

“Fuck you!” she exclaimed, reeling back and smashing the glass bottle of liquor onto the laminate flooring before storming out of the shop with the sound of the shopkeeper slinging a disgusting string of abuse following behind.

Walking down the street and turning into an alleyway, she worked her jaw back and forth, spitting the blood that had pooled in her mouth onto the filthy cement.

“Salaud. Un jour, je vais le tuer,” she grumbled to herself, leaning against the damp brick alley wall and waiting. The stranger was definitely her target. That much was true. The opportunity to lean in and confirm that the flash of silver she’d spied was in fact, a full metal arm, almost made getting back handed like a bitch worth it. Almost.

A few minutes later, the stranger, clad in a grubby red Henley and tattered ballcap, walked right past her. People were so predictable. Waiting a beat, she turned out of the alley and began to follow the man at a leisurely pace, mentally noting the small details about him that might be helpful later. Things like how he favored his right side, but still walked with his weight drawn to the left; most likely due to the metal arm. A metal arm – she’d seen it all now. When her employer had briefed her on the job, she’d made a mental note of the unusual characteristic. The way they had described him, extremely dangerous and not to be underestimated, she assumed they wanted her to take him out. But to her surprise, they insisted that he be taken in alive. What made this guy so special? Eyeing the backpack strapped securely around his center and the multipurpose boots laced tightly, she could tell he was ready to run at any moment. The way in which he handled the shopkeeper said he was a man of action – he had no time to fuck around. But there was a reservation to the way in which he did it that made it known he wasn’t desperate either. That was something different from the people she was usually hired to find. Still – he had shown up exactly where she expected him to be. Twice now. He was just as predictable as all the rest. If she was right, he’d turn left any second now.

Just as she predicted, the man took a left turn on the following street. Smirking to herself, she lowered her head and keeping a casual pace, turned the corner as well. However, her confidence was shaken when she found no sight of the stranger upon rounding the corner. Where could he possibly have gone? Speeding up, Brenna scanned the area around her, looking for any signs of the stranger with the metal arm. What was it her employer had said? Do not underestimate him? It was her confusion that kept her from spotting the movement to her left until it was too late. A hand reaching out from the gap between two buildings grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and pulled her into the small space. The section between the two buildings could hardly be called an alleyway – more like an architectural blip as the width was only large enough for herself and an inch of space from where the stranger stood, looking down at her dangerously.

The first thing she noticed was the striking color of his eyes. Impossibly blue. Clear and blue with the slightest mix of green around the iris. It was like looking into a beautiful, crystal clear pond. The thought held reminiscent of another time. Another life. Strong arms, a rich umber color, same as hers, holding her close. A soft breeze. The light chirp of Citril finches high above.

“Why are you following me?” he asked, speaking low and sternly.

Lost in the mixed emotions of his eyes and the memories they produced; she did not answer right away. Instead she stared at him dumbfounded as if she hadn’t done this almost her entire life.

“I’m not going to ask again—” the stranger leaned forward, the hot puff of his breath hitting her face “—why are you following me? Who do you work for?”

Thinking fast on her feet, Brenna found herself taking an approach she never had before. But then, this target was different from any other she’d encountered. He was smart. Smart enough to figure out she was following him in less than ten minutes. Perhaps he knew in the corner shop when she’d bumped into him. Maybe even from the moment he’d walked in. If that were true, then he knew she used disguises, deception, and lies to do her job. She needed a new approach. She needed to intertwine honesty with the lies.

“Hydra. I work for Hydra.”

His grip tightened on the collar of her jacket, a second hand coming up to wrap around her neck. Brenna suppressed the instinctual reaction to fight back. She was working an angle here and based on the strength and the mechanical whirring of the arm that currently held her life in its hand, she knew when she was at a disadvantage.

“Let me guess, they hired you to find me. Take me back?”

She nodded, feeling the grip tighten and her air supply cut off little by little. Every fiber of her being begged for her to fight for her life – to twist and squirm in his grip. Yet, she stayed still; the whole time, never looking away from the intensity of his stare. The secret to a good lie was always in the eyes.

“Well I’m not goin’ back. So, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck right now,” the blue-eyed stranger said, looming over her as black spots began to overtake her vision.

“You—” she struggled with the words, her body screaming for the sweet relief of oxygen “—you got out. You got away. How?” Her body, no longer able to remain slack, convulsed, hands flying up claw at the unmoving forearm. Legs kicking out underneath her, she dangled from her neck alone. His hand did not loosen, but the expression on his face softened ever so slightly. A micro-expression of confusion.

“Why do you care?” he asked her, still holding tight to her airway. Either he was unaware of just how close she was to passing out, or he didn’t care. Brenna used every last ounce of her strength to stay conscious. The focus of her eyes went blurry, her head swam, but her answer to his question was surely the answer to her survival as well.

“I want out too.”

When she awoke, the first thing Brenna became aware of was a dry heat and the sound of running water. Opening her eyes, she took in the sight of a small bedroom. It was dirty; wallpaper peeled from the walls in thick, grey strips revealing the rotting plaster behind it. Floorboards covered in dirt and dust, warped and twisted, giving the floor an unusual texture. Across the room sat an old space heater, plugged into a questionable outlet that threatened electrical fire at any moment. It was aimed directly at her body, which was unmistakably absent of the clothes she’d been wearing earlier. Instead, only her panties and undershirt remained. Attempting to roll from the bed, she found herself hindered by an unforgiving pull at her wrists. Looking above her head, she saw her wrists expertly bound to the old, iron headboard. The knot was unyielding as she pulled firmly at it, testing its strength. Her heart rate sped, but she willed herself to stay calm, present, collected. Nothing felt amiss as she took a moment to assess her body. No aches or pains in any place but her neck and face. The water she had heard upon waking up, was now very clearly the sound of a shower running. Eyes scanning the room, she spotted her clothes sitting on an old chair. This wasn’t the worst scenario she had ever found herself in. Montreal would still be the worst. This was nothing. She just needed a plan.

Unfortunately, Brenna was given no time to come up with one. From the other room, the sounds of a squeaky faucet turning and someone shuffling around could be heard. When the stranger appeared from behind the bathroom door, he was dressed once again in the same dark wash jeans, but this time with a fresh, loose fitting t-shirt. His feet were bare, a bold choice in her opinion, but then again, the person in charge of finding him was right there, tied to his bed. His hair hung, wet and tousled, dripping water onto his shoulders and sliding down onto the expanse of his metal arm. In short sleeves, Brenna was able to see the full extent of the appendage. It was more magnificent than she could have imagined. It moved, shifted, twitched like a one of flesh and blood. Yet there is was – an amalgamation of metal, gears, and wires. Shifting her gaze from the mechanical anomaly, she took in the rest of him. He really was quite handsome. Strong jawline, high cheekbones, a nice symmetrical face, a built physique, a little pretty, a little rugged. If she wasn’t worried he would kill her any moment, she’d find the fact that she was tried up in his bed to be exciting. It wasn’t often that she received a job that was so easy on the eyes. And Brenna was never one to pass up opportunistic situations.

“You’re awake,” said the stranger, walking over to the small chair and moving her clothes out of the way before sitting down. The wood groaned under his weight, but he trusted it as he sat down fully. He’d sat in it before – which meant he’d most likely been in this location for longer than a few days.

“And alive,” Brenna responded, staring hard at the man across from her. “Why?”

The blue-eyed stranger took a moment to contemplate the answer, staring through her as he clenched his jaw, “You said you wanted out. I figured if that were even remotely true, I should try to help.”

“That’s quite a bit of generosity for someone who’s running for their life. Savior complex?”

“Heavy conscience. I have a several lifetimes to atone for.” He spoke the words with a burdensome resolution.

“I think you and I both know that there’s no atonement for the things we’ve been forced to do,” she half lied. It was true there was no saving her soul, but no one had forced her to do anything against her will in almost twenty years. The way in which the blue-eyed stranger assessed her, gave her hope that her plan was working. She was building a rapport. However, the part of her that craved danger found itself unable to hold back a flirtatious comment, “But you know what they say – A sin confessed is half forgiven. Care to confess and repent, Blue Eyes? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He laughed unamusedly, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest, “I think I’ll pass.”

The crossing of his arms only seemed to fuel the inappropriate attraction she was feeling. His arms and shoulders were so ridiculously large, and it had been so long since she’d had someone…large. Flexing her fingers, Brenna could feel the blood draining from her hands, leaving a tingling feeling behind. Pulling on the restraints she slid herself into a sitting position, “Tell me, Blue Eyes, do you always tie up the women you help?”

“I had to make sure you wouldn’t run away before I decided to trust you. I also needed a shower. Didn’t know when you’d wake up.”

“And my clothes?” Brenna asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“After you passed out, I figured it was best to search you for weapons,” he answered, continuing to stare at her, a bored expression plastered across his face.

“Well you were certainly thorough. Did you have your fill while I was unconscious?”

“That implies that I cared enough to look.”

Brenna smiled, slow and sly as she narrowed her eyes at him, “Pity.”

She couldn’t say for certain, but she could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth twitch at her comment.

“Well, are you going to untie me, or do I have the pleasure of staying on your bed, half-naked, for the forceable future?”

The blue-eyed stranger stood, stalking towards her as he pulled a knife from his pocket. Brenna’s flinched at the flick of the blade, an instinctual reaction that she could tell made the man pause for a fraction of a second.

“Well, you didn’t have any weapons on your person. Not even a knife. If Hydra had sent you to capture me and you had been serious about doing it, I doubt you’d come empty handed,” he mused, reaching your side and leaning over her grabbing for her wrists.

“Just like that then? You didn’t find anything on me, so you trust me?” A decent amount of skepticism would be expected in a situation like this. A woman looking to get out from under the thumb of Hydra and their dastardly ways. A woman genuinely putting her trust in this stranger.

“You tell me something—” he stared down at her, knife paused against the rope at her wrists “—They must have told you about me when they assigned you to find me. Why in the world would you trust me to save you?” Brenna couldn’t help it, once again she was lost in the strange familiarity of the blue-green depths of his eyes. Like floating in the crisp waters of a memory.

“I didn’t,” she answered truthfully, fully intending to make up something contrived and pathetic. However, her mouth was speaking before her mind could catch up, iterating the thoughts that flowed through her head. “Not at first. And then I looked in your eyes and knew that I could.”

And she did. If she genuinely was looking to put her trust in someone, it might just be the man in front of her. But she wasn’t looking to trust anyone.

The blue-eyed stranger assessed her for a few more seconds, before pushing his blade through the thick rope as if it was paper thin. At the sweet release of her arms, Brenna brought them to her chest, rubbing at the tender skin as blood began to flow back into the appendages. Upon seeing that he had not stepped away from her, Brenna looked up at the blue-eyed stranger a breath away from her. He looked at her; he was searching for something – but for what she did not know. The truth? Her secret? Her story? Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He’d never get it.

“Trying to find something, Blue Eyes?” she asked playfully.

He pulled back, as if he had just become aware of his staring in that moment. Shaking his head and stepping back, he gave her space to swing her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Shower’s free if you want one – can’t promise there’ll be a lot of hot water,” he said, turning from her and heading towards the doorway that lead out of the bedroom.

“It’s a shame I didn’t wake up sooner. We could have conserved the hot water by sharing.” Her comment fell on deaf ears as he continued out of the room. Laughing to herself, Brenna stood and entered the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind her as she turned the water on and stripped from the rest of her clothes. Taking a moment to stare in the mirror above the sink, she assessed the damage to her face and neck. Red and yellow bruising was already making an appearance on her skin across her left cheek bone and in a ring around her neck. Delicately, she traced the handprint that graced the golden-brown skin of her throat. In a few days they would fade, but till then she was marked with the evidence of being bested by her target. Her normally springy, dark brown curls hung limp and frizzy above her shoulders – partly from her own doing to appear the part of ‘down on her luck’, but also from, what she could only assume, the less than careful way she was transported to the apartment she currently resided.

Stepping into the lukewarm water, she reveled in the feel of it running down her body. Eyeing the contents of the shower, she was not surprised to see a lack of conditioner. Picking up the bar of soap, she began to work it over her body, wiping away the grime and dirt. She scrubbed at her nail beds, thoroughly before set the bar down and sighing at the two-in-one shampoo. Her hair would not thank her for it, but she reasoned it was better than the gritty feeling on the surface of her scalp. So, she squeezed a small amount onto the palm of her hand and made special care to keep the product near her scalp only. Standing under the heavy stream, she contemplated what her next move was.

Clearly, she had gained his trust or at the very least did not come off as a threat to him. She could laugh at the thought. Just as much as people were predictable, they were equally narrow-minded and uncreative. Why did everyone always assume that the small were weak or that you needed something as primitive as a knife or a gun to incapacitate a man? Rolling her head from side to side, she knew that this whole thing could end in a matter of seconds if she wanted it to. She could easily have the man immobilized at her feet and be collecting her money. But where was the fun in that? It was so rare that she found herself in a titillating scenario as the one she was in now. No, it would be so much more satisfying to see how far she could push the ‘kindred broken spirits, looking for a new life and purpose’ thing.

Turning off the water that had long run cold, she pulled the curtain back and stepped out onto the ratted, thread-bare mat. Looking to the open doorway, she found the blue-eyed stranger standing, towel and her folder clothes in his arms. He stood solid and stoic; his face inscrutable as his eyes scanned the line of her body. Like a heavy-handed caress, he followed her hills and valleys from the curve of her full thighs to the peaks of her modest breasts. Sexual tension hung in the space between them like the steam that floated throughout the humid air around her. Stepping lightly across the bathroom floor, she took the towel and clothes from his arms.

“Thank you,” she spoke softly, watching with rapt interest as the man before her appeared to battle with something internally. Presented to him like a feast for the starving, she wondered why he did not partake in tasting the delicacy before him. Was it the heavy conscience he claimed the possess? Or was it something far more trivial – such as the simple issue of consent. People really ought to just take what they want. Rising onto her toes, the towel and clothes dropped to the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her full lips to brush against the warmth of his own mouth. Fingers of flesh and metal gripped her naked body as they consumed each other – lips, tongue, and teeth. Pressing her wet form into the hard plane of this body, the blue-eyed stranger groped the ample flesh of her ass tightly as they stumbled in the direction of the bed. Turning him, Brenna used the full force of her strength to push him onto the mattress below her. He fell, willingly, allowing her to climb onto his lap, taking his own wrists in her hands and pinning them above him. Her wet curls hung heavy around her face, dripping the blue-eyed stranger below her, but he didn’t seem to care as he broke from her grasp and reached up to cup the back of her head. He pulled her down, capturing her bottom lips between his teeth.

The control she had was short lived. Distracted by the heat of his kiss, she allowed the blue-eyed stranger to gain the upper hand. Flipping them over so that she lay on her stomach, face pushed into the firm springs of the mattress, he reached around her and massaged the tender flesh of a breast. Arching her back, Brenna pressed her ass firmly into the front of his jeans, rewarded by the rigid length of his cock. Growling low in his throat, he bit down on the junction of her neck and shoulder causing her to cry out. He continued to nip and suck at the sensitive flesh of her shoulder as he braced himself above her, right hand traveling from her breast to the juncture between her legs. Finding the flesh there warm, wet, and ready, he wasted no time in plunging his fingers into her depths. Brenna moaned, low and needy as he stroked her in long, forceful pulls.

Pulling from her completely, Brenna felt empty and wanting. Moving to turn, a hand to the center of her back kept in place as the sounds of shuffling fabric filled her ears. The next thing she knew, she was being filled by the white-hot length of him. Thick and long and raw, he bottomed out in her before pulling out slowly and reentering with similar force. Wrapping his metal arm around her middle and his flesh arm across her chest, he laid his body flush against her as he fucked her. The intimate way in which he took his time, languidly and passionately bringing her towards her crest, contrasted so unbearably well with the rough and filthy fact that he’d rather have her this way – unable to see her face as he entered her and still wearing all his clothes.

It wasn’t long before she could feel the familiar pressure building within her. Nails digging into the flesh of his forearm, Brenna found what little power she could in the movement of her hips. Grinding back against him, they battled for dominance over the pace and angle as they both chased their own release. Never before had she fought for control in bed. Like most things in her life, it was an area she governed – domineering and calling the shots in her own pleasure. However, now, as the blue-eyed stranger plowed into her at a pace he dictated, she found herself panting and whining like a desperate woman asking for permission. What was it about this man that made every facet of her being fade away – replaced only by someone reckless and willing to potentially lose?

A few more thrusts and her orgasm overtook her, leaching the ecstasy from her very bones. The blue-eyed stranger followed quickly, pulling out and spilling on the small of her back. Brenna took a moment to catch her breath as he collapsed beside her. In a surprising act of intimacy, the blue-eyed stranger pulled her into his side, wrapping an arm protectively around her. Looking at the relaxed expression on his face, Brenna couldn’t help but feel as though she should feel guilty. It was unfortunate his peaceful state was about to end. Parting her lips, she reached discretely into her mouth and grasp her front left canine between her thumb and pointer finger. She pulled it with little effort, twisting as she went until she felt the familiar pop. Taking the tooth from her mouth, she revealed the sharp, needle end where the root should be. There was no hesitation in her movements as plunged the metal into the side of his neck, knowing instantly that the tranquilizer was already seeping into his system.

The blue-eyed stranger’s eyes flew open, scrambling away from her as he brought a hand up to the point of entry. A shocked and confused expression washed across his face, and then one of sick realization. Brenna slid from the bed, standing and walking towards her discarded clothes in the bathroom. The stranger tried to follow her, falling pathetically to the floor as his legs gave way underneath him. She dressed quickly, reaching into the pocket of her coat and pulling out an old, burner phone – something he had apparently deemed nonthreatening. She snapped a picture of him, lying there helplessly, staring at her with betrayal in his blue-green eyes.

Texting the proof of a job well done to her employer, along with the words “It’s done. Come and get him.”—incase the picture wasn’t clear enough, she discarded of the phone out the window, no longer in need of it.

“They should be here soon. Try to keep it together until then – wouldn’t want you choking on your own tongue, now would I?” she remarked, heading towards the door.

“Why?” The words stopped her. She supposed he deserved an answer.

Turning around, she sauntered over to him and crouched down on the balls of her feet. She took his handsome face in her hand, squeezing his jaw between her fingers as she stared into the depths of his for the last time. Why indeed. She could have plunged that needle into his neck at any moment. So why had she decided to do it this way?

Tonguing the empty space within her upper row of teeth, she took a moment to ponder the answer before speaking, “I do everything for a reason. Most of the time the reason is money. But you, Blue Eyes? You were more personal. I did you…for me.”

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

@grincheveryday

#roosoldhollywood #challenge #dark #black!OFC #fan fic #smut #bucky x ofc #bucky x black!ofc #bucky barnes

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ken-moshesh-posts · 4 years

Audio

Listen/purchase: movement sub chants from the past by ken moshesh chessa rich

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marcythevampqueen · 5 years

Text

21 Tag Game

Thanks for @tom-sellecks-moustache for tagging me! 💕

1.) Nicknames: Gingerhead, Hurricane Chessa, Red

2.) Zodiac Sign: I'm a Cancer who's secretly an Aries lol

3.) Height: 5'6"

4.) Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

5.) Last thing I Googled: How to play Maps by Freya Ridings on the piano

6.) Favourite musicians: Florence, Freya Ridings, Halsey, Ron Pope, Bleachers, this list could legit go on forever though lol

7.) Song stuck in my head: Light On by Maggie Rogers

8.) Following: 158

9.) Followers: 401

10.) Do I get asks?: Rarely

11.) Amount of sleep?: 5ish? 6? I have a hard time actually staying asleep

12.) Lucky Number?: 7 definitely, my bday is literally all sevens

13.) What am I wearing?: No sleeve shirt, leggings, and running shoes

14.) Dream Job: Run the world lol, no but I'm not totally sure, I have sooo much stuff that I want to do lol

15.) Dream Trip: GREECE and Rome, and if I ever get rich one day the Maldives

16.) Favourite Food: Mexican or Italian, but more specifically though I have a serious Mac N' Cheese problem

17.) Instruments: Currently teaching myself Piano

18.) Languages: English, I can read Latin, and I can understand Spanish is someone is speaking to me but that's about it.

19.) Favourite Song: is currently Rollercoaster by Bleachers, it's such a summer time song

20.) Random Fact: I have two scars on my hand from when I was 10, and we were moving our chairs outside of class for some reason, so per usual I felt the need to show off and prove I was stronger than the boys by carrying 5 chairs at once, and I did it, but I didnt notice until someone pointed out that i was bleeding, that carrying all those chairs sliced my hand lol

21.) Aesthetic: Lighter Blue/Greens and yellows

Tagging anyone who wants to do this to, feel free!

#tagged in #about me

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deathbyvalentine · 6 years

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Retold Slavic/European Fairytales

The Becoming of Marya.

Once upon a time, there lived three sisters, though you would be forgiven for thinking there were four. There was Marya, Suzan and Hana. And then there was Chessa, the closest neighbour to the family that lived in the woods.

Though Chessa loved all of the sisters, she was drawn particularly to Marya. Marya was fierce, and brave, and wild, and delicate Chessa saw in her all the things she herself lacked. Inside her heart, she fostered a love that was as passionate as a flame. But lacking courage, she couldn’t find the words to tell her best friend how she felt. She simply let her passion burn long and low.

Before long, the time came where it was time for the families to make alliances, with their parents aging and growing tired.. Suzan married two nobles in the south, rich with farms and cattle. Hana married a captain in the east who commanded their troops with force and dignity. Marya declared that she would find her own spouse or her own living, and disappeared into the north. Chessa’s heart broke every single day.

Soon, the pain became too much to simply do nothing. Chessa said goodbye to her fathers, and set out to the north, determined to finally be courageous, find Marya, and tell her how she felt. She travelled for many days, learning how to forage and survive as she went. Her skin was reddened by the howling wind and her feet ached from walking, but still she did not stop. One night, when she dreamed, a voice came to her through the dark, calling her forward. Her bones stopped hurting, and energy returned to her limbs. Despite the hour, she began to walk.

Finally, she came across a clearing, and within that clearing was a house of the likes she had never seen before. It was polished stone and glass, and shone in the winter moon. In awe, Chessa approached the building and knocked three times. And who answered but Marya?

She had changed since Chessa last saw her. She was taller, dressed in rich jewels, her eyes darker than ever. Chessa’s broken heart healed just from the sight of her. And Marya too rejoiced at the sight of her childhood friend, and bid her to come inside. It was just as grand on the inside as it was on the out, though devoid of even servants. Marya begged Chessa to stay with her, and Chessa agreed all too quickly.

In the library that night, they sat by a fire and talked. Marya told Chessa of how she had made her fortune through trading rare finds and farming. The house was surrounded by its own land for miles around. But that didn’t quite make sense. The woodland here was dreadful for farming all but fungi, and all the rare artifacts were owned by the families. But her joy at seeing her lost love was so overwhelming, questions melted on her tongue.

Days turned into weeks, with Chessa staying at first in a guest bedroom, then Marya’s personal chambers, and then Marya’s bed. It came as a surprise to nobody when Marya proposed after three months had passed, and Chessa instantly agreed. In other stories, the happily ever after may come here, but this is no ordinary story.

Three months after the marriage, Marya reported that she had to go away, to deal with a small rebellion on her lands further north. She would return as soon as she could, but in the meantime, Chessa was to look after the house. There were no rules, nothing she could not do - except step foot in the basement. No explanation was given but Chessa agreed heartily.

However, a week into her beloved’s absence, she found her curiosity growing like a vine. She found herself staring at the heavy wooden door, with bolts on the outside. She knocked on it, but heard nothing but an echo. What could be down there that she was not allowed to see?

One more week later, she cracked. She undid each and every one of the bolts, hearing the heavy drag and click. The door revealed a set of dark, dark stairs, with no lights to guide the way of the descent. She found a candle to light the narrow corridor, and descended, watching the shadows flicker and jump.

At the bottom, she gasped at the sight that greeted her. There was a man shackled to the wall, looking gaunt and thin, his skin covered in strange symbols she had never seen before. Around him was scattered salt. Chessa’s gentle heart ached for the man, and she ran forward to help, fearing she may be too late. As her fingers touched him, he stirred, looking at her with desperate eyes. He was incapable of words, until she fetched him a little water and food. He span her a story so tragic, it could have been its own tale.

Lazlo had married the beautiful Marya and within a day or so she had betrayed him for his lands and wealth, and caged him down here. He loved her still and only wanted to understand why she had done such a dreadful thing. All the while, Chessa kept feeding and watering him, not noticing how the water drip drip dripped down and eroded the salt circle.

When he had drank twelve cups of water, the candle blew out. A dark voice came from the man, so unlike the trembling voice he did have. There was a mighty crack, and Chessa could hear the shackles being pulled from the wall, and impossibly fast feet speeding up the stairs and out the house. She tried to give chase, but he was too quick. Standing in the doorway, seeing his footsteps through the snow, she knew what a terrible mistake she had made.

She wrapped up tight in bear furs, and followed his track. Soon, she came upon a village that was in uproar. When she inquired to what happened, they told her of how a terrible witch had set upon the village, and took their patron Marya who knows where. Terror gripping her heart, she followed the tracks even further into the wilderness.

Snow blew into her face and cold gripped her fingers and toes. But nothing would stop her seeking her love and she kept going, refusing to give up. She walked for one whole day and one whole night until she came to the mouth of the cave near a river, where the dread witch Lazlo sat.

Chessa, love making her brave, stood her ground and demanded her wife to be freed. Lazlo stood, and declared how he would not, how he would take back his ill-gotten home and continue his reign of terror over the nearby villages. She had one chance to walk away. She did not take it.

With a flick of his wrist and a muttering of a few words, contusions appeared all over her body, making blood pour down her skin and causing indescribable agony. He placed her into a wooden barrel and threw the barrel into the river where it was carried away, buffeted by the cold currents. She surely would have died, frozen and alone, if not for the hand of Her-In-Terra.

The barrel washed up on a bank much further south. And who should find it but Suzan? Suzan gasped at the state of their old friend and called to their two spouses, who came running. Her wife was a skilled medicae, and her husband an expert herb gatherer, and together they saved Chessa’s life. She awoke in a warm, cosy house. Suzan had sent for Hana and Hana’s spouse in the meantime. Furious at the treatment of her childhood friend, Hana had convinced her partner to gather their soldiers and see if they knew anything about this.

They had reported that Lazlo could not be defeated by any means of physical damage they knew. Laz bounced off him, knives left no mark. But they knew of a wise woman who may be able to teach her the correct ways and means. After a day or recovery, and still covered in wounds, they accompanied her all the way to the wise woman’s hut.

The wise woman did indeed know of the dread Lazlo, and had been waiting for an opportunity like this (for you see she liked a quiet life and Lazlo had upset half the forest). However, first Chessa had to prove herself. Chessa showed her how she had learned to skin a hare, fire an arrow entirely straight, and sung a song that she remembered Marya had taught her when they were small. Moved, the wise woman agreed.

She gave her a book, a bell, and a bag of salt and told her she was to read from the book, scatter the salt, and ring the bell as loudly as she could. Chessa thanked her and went back on her way, more determined than ever.

Lazlo was surprised when she arrived back at the cave, bloody and furious. He had expected her to drown or bleed out. Before he could say a single word, she was reading from the tome. Each word seemed to be like a blade to his skin, causing indescribable agony. When the salt as scattered, he screamed. When the bell began to ring, he fell to the ground, his chest no longer rising and falling. With no time to lose, Chessa built a pyre around him and burnt his body, hoping the ashes would scatter in the wind.

Marya, hearing the noise, came up from the cave, to see her love bloody and victorious. She rushed into her arms, and embraced her, giving her a thousand kisses for rescuing her and a thousand scoldings for going into the basement in the first place. All was forgiven between the two, and no witch ever troubled them again.

The Juniper Tree

Once, there were two devoted wives. Their lives were perfect, apart from one thing. They desperately wanted a child. But day after day passed, with no child. They started to devote their lives fully instead to She-In-Terra and focused on being grateful for what they did have. One winter, the first wife was cutting an apple under the juniper tree in the snow-coated garden, when a flash of golden light blinded her momentarily. She cut her thumb, a few scarlet drops falling on the snow. She had a vision of a beautiful child with bright red lips. They realised a few short weeks later, she was with child. There are no words strong enough to express their joy, or their sorrow when the first wife fell ill.

The joy was finally mixed with grief when the baby boy (named Jaromir) was born and her wife died. She buried her under the juniper tree, the place where they were married and where they saw the vision of their child for the first time.

Several years passed, and time healed the wound as time always does. The wife fell in love all over again, and they were married, and the young boy gained a stepmother. A few years later too, he gained a step sister. Their only resemblance was their blood red lips. The little girl was called Anya-Marie.

Soon, as the children grew, problems arose. The children loved each other dearly and belovedly and could not be separated. Anya’s mother despised Jaromir and took every opportunity to drive a wedge between him and her wife. She wished her daughter to inherit everything the family had, and to not have to worry about making a match for the older son.

One day, when Jaromir returned from his days work, she set a trap. She filled a heavy chest with red, shiny apples, and left them in the larder. Jaromir, thirsty from working in the sun, asked for one. She gracefully agreed. However the moment he leant down for the fruit, she slammed the chest down, taking his head from his neck in one swift movement. Knowing her daughter would be home soon, the step-mother quickly gathered the body, and the head, and placed it on a chair, apple in lap. She mopped up the innocent blood. She bound the head to the body with a scarf, and closed his eyes.

Anya-Marie arrived home from school, and ran to see her older brother. Confused when he ignored her asking for the apple on his lap, she tapped his shoulder, causing his head to tumble to the ground. She stared in horror before falling into floods of tears. Her mother, knowing the plot was foiled, quickly scolded her into silence. Working quickly, she carved up the body like a goat, and boiled him into soup. When her wife came home, she reported that their son had gone to stay at an uncle’s. Anya-Marie said nothing as they eat the blood-soup, though tears kept falling from her eyes.Only the step mother was able to consume all of it, the other mother complaining of stomach pains soon after, and Anya-Marie too repulsed to finish her pot.

Afterwards, in the dead of night, Anya- Marie fetched the bones from the bottom of the cooking pot, wrapped them in her prettiest scarf, and buried them under the juniper tree, giving them the only burial she could.

Suddenly, a golden mist came from the tree, followed by a beautiful beautiful bird. The bird flew to the nearest village, swooping and twirling. It perched on a streetlight and sang and sang, the most gorgeous lullaby. But the words of the lullaby sung of his murder.

My step-mother, she killed me, My mother, she ate me, My sister Anya-Marie, Gathered all my bones, Tied them in a silken scarf, Laid them beneath the juniper tree…

Three people were awake to hear it and were captivated. The jewellry maker made a fine gold chain for the bird to sing again. The shoemaker made a pair of fine gorgeous red leather shoes for the bird to sing again. The miller gave her finest millstone to the bird to hear the song one last time.

The bird happily flew home. The necklace, he dropped on his mother’s lap. The shoes, he dropped in his little sister’s lap. The step-mother was ignored by the bird and found herself seething with rage (so much so one could almost see her steaming), and stepped outside to cool down. And promptly had a millstone dropped on her head, crushing her to the ground and leaving nothing but ash and smoke.

Out of the ash came the son, blessed by the light of He-In-Terra to return because of the wrongs done against him. He was embraced by his sister, and his mother, and they returned inside to live together as a happy family forever more.

Diamonds and Toads

There was once a mother with two sons. Dimas was something of a cynic, sharp tongued and often cruel. However, he resembled his mother with dark eyes and raven hair. She doted on him for this reason, despite his wicked ways. Her younger son, Andrei, was far more beautiful, as well as kind and gentle and loyal. However, he resembled his father, with ruby red hair and green eyes, and his mother despised him for it.

One day, Andrei was fetching water from the local stream. An old woman stood by the stream, and asked for a drink of water. Without a second’s hesitation, he stooped and filled his bucket, and helped her to take a drink from it. Once she had drank her fill, she dropped her disguise to reveal she was in fact a saint. Overcome, Andrei dropped to his knees. For his kindness and piety, she blessed him - for every word he said, a precious jewel or piece of metal would drop from his lips.

When he got home, his mother was over the moon and immediately began to scheme. She wished for her older son to get the same blessing to double her riches, and immediately sent him out to the stream to collect water. Dimas protested, having never done a single days work in his life. His mother ignored his protests, and sent him off with strict instructions to be nice to any old women he happened to meet.

When he arrived at the stream however, there was no old woman waiting. Instead, there was a beautiful noblewoman. And being disinterested in women in general, and disinterested in anyone who couldn’t give him something in return for his time, he refused, rudely, when she asked him for a drink of water. When she unveiled herself as a fearsome miracle worker, he realised his mistake, but did not apologise. She cursed him so every word he spoke, a toad or mouse would fall from his lips.

When Dimas arrived home, his mother was furious with him, and saw him for what he was for the first time. She didn’t realise he was a reflection of herself however, and hounded him out the house. For the first time in his life, he had to rely on himself alone, and he was frightened. Over a few days stumbling about in the woods, his pride and cruelty was filed off him. He stumbled into a noble boy, beautiful and sweet, and having learnt that his words could be dangerous, Dismas kept his mouth shut. By spending time with him, listening and learning, he felt his heart change. Finally, he divulged his secret. His lover didn’t mind a bit and promptly married him anyway.

Andrei found himself unable to stand his house without his brother and didn’t want to bring wealth to his cruel mother. He set out and paid several scouts with his words to help him track down Dismas. He fell in love with one of the scouts, a handsome, rugged, humble man who had no use for his jewels and no desire for riches. He found his brother again, and found him much more agreeable now, and married his scout. He lived out his days on his brother’s husband’s land, happy and in love. Their mother? Well, she died alone and poor, without her children around her.

The Girl In The Chest

There was once a horrible creature who took the form of a beautiful young woman despite the evil inside of her. She went to the center of the forest where a poor old man with three daughters lived and pretended that she had no greater wish than to marry the eldest.

“I am not a local. But I am wealthy and own my own business, and my own castle. Your daughter will be well catered for and well loved, and I will pay for the entire wedding.” Now, the old man hadn’t a penny to his name, and being unable to pay for a wedding was the reason all three of his rather lovely daughters had remained unwed.

Despite the fact the beautiful woman was a stranger, it seemed a tempting offer and half in love with her lovely face, the eldest daughter accepted her hand. They left that very afternoon, hand in hand. They walked and walked and walked, and as evening drew in they reached a clearing, surrounded by mists. Fear struck at the eldest daughter’s heart and she tried to draw back.

“Darling, there is nothing to fear.” The beautiful woman pulled aside a shrub to reveal a deep dark hole. “We simply take this passage and we will be home in no time.” But instead of leading anywhere, it lead into a dark cave, where bones crunched underfoot and water dripped. Towards the back there were countless doors. It was here the woman revealed her true form. “If you do not do everything I say, you will never leave this cave!”

She handed the eldest daughter a pitcher, filled with dark dark blood. “Drink this.” She demanded.

The eldest daughter, being a good, pious girl, refused. And the creature killed her as if she was nothing more than an insect, before putting her teeth to her neck and draining her of her lifeblood, spilling it across the cave floor. The creature waited a few days then returned the the old man in her beautiful woman form. She claimed the eldest daughter was sick, and desperately needed nursing by someone she knew. Quick as a flash, the kind middle daughter volunteered. Of course, as soon as they got to the cave she was killed just as quickly, the creature besmirching her blood instantly.

And then she returned to the old man, claiming the sickness was catching, and the two elder daughters were begging for their sister. Now, the youngest sister agreed to go, but she was a cunning sort and as sly as a fox. She went with her eyes open, expecting foul play.

When they got into the deep dark cave, and her feet stuck to the blood and mud, she realised what must have befallen her dear sisters. The creature revealed itself and went to fetch the pitcher of rotten blood. Quick as a wink, the Youngest Sister began to pray to Her-In-Terra, for a way to escape so she may continue working in Her name.

She dashed to the back of the cave and wrenched open a door, finding it lead into a long passage. She ran into it, slamming the door closed behind her. Well, the creature tried to pursue but found that it wasted so much time searching the wrong doors, it completely lost her. It’s screams of rage could be heard for miles around.

The girl popped up above ground like a mole, miles away from any apparent civilisation. Dark things growled and shuffled in the woods, and she feared she would be eaten by something more mundane once darkness fell. Knowing the right thing to do, once again she dropped to her knees and prayed for a safe place only she could access. And She listened.

Presently, she found a large golden chest hidden behind a tree. One of the hairs on her head acted as a key, and she unlocked it, before snuggling inside, locking it behind her. She fell happily asleep, knowing the chest was far too solid to be in any danger from any manner of beast. She lived like this for a while, foraging for water and berries in the day and falling asleep in her chest in the night.

She may have lived like that forever if not for the local lord’s child. They were out riding in the forests, when they caught sight of the Youngest Daughter. They thought they had never seen something as beautiful. However, when they tried to approach, she was nowhere to be found. Disgruntled, all they found was a golden chest. Curious, they tried to open it, to no avail. As the evening was drawing in, they decided to simply take it home with them, and had it placed in their chambers.

A few hours later, the Youngest Daughter peeped out of her chest, and found to her surprise she was in lavish set of chambers, with a large supper set out in preparation for the Noble Heir. Starving, she hopped out, eat everything, then got back into her chest. The servants were absolutely nonplussed when they found nothing but the remains of food. This happened for three days, with the Noble Heir eventually becoming involved in the mystery. Clever as they were fair, they came up with a cunning plan. A servant was to hide behind the heavy curtains and report what exactly they saw. When they reported about the beautiful young woman, the Noble Heir decided they had to see it for themselves.

They were very excited and stood silently behind the curtains, peeking out. As the night before, the Youngest Daughter slipped out of the chest and began to eat. The Noble Heir revealed themselves with a dramatic flourish, causing the Daughter to gasp. They reassured her that they were not angry, rather enchanted, and wished to wed her. This seemed a little quick for the Daughter, but she agreed anyway.

Ah, but it was not to be that simple. Because who was the noble father’s retainer but the horrible creature? When the Noble Father gave his blessing to the wedding, it was enraged. It snuck into the Youngest Daughter’s bedroom before the nuptials, and wrapped her in a heavy sack, and stole her into the night. The Daughter, unable to breath properly, fainted dead away.

Not having time to take her all the way to the cave, and with her so pale and still, the Creature assumed she was dead, and dumped her in a field of wild nettles. When the Noble Heir awoke and found themselves alone, they wept and wept in their grief.

The Creature saw an opportunity, and in it’s beautiful retainer form, attempt to console the Heir. “Now now my love. Clearly she was nothing but a con artist, or perhaps even a creature sent to test you. There is no reason why we shouldn’t have a marriage after all. You could marry me.”

But the Heir was too distraught from the loss of their love and spurned her.

Meanwhile, the Youngest Daughter awoke in a warm, cozy hut, with an Old Woman nursing her. She had heard her groaning in the field behind her house and had rescued her, and began to nurse her back to health.

“Old Woman, may I stay a while? There is someone who wishes to wed me and someone who wishes to hurt me.”

“Of course dear child, but may I make a suggestion to which to repay me? There is a rumour that the Noble Heir is refusing to eat a single morsel. I am very poor and his Father is offering a reward for any meal made that will tempt them.”

The cunning Youngest Daughter had an idea. “Of course!” She cooked a dish of beans and arranged them prettily. But then she cut off a ringlet of her hair and placed it beside the food. She had a distinctive hair colour that they perhaps would instantly recognise.

And that is exactly what happened. The Noble Heir had been turning away dishes all day, but when they saw this plate carried by the Old Woman. They spotted the piece of hair and exclaimed, immediately eating up the meal to the delight of their Father. Their Father paid the Old Woman handsomely, and the Noble Heir sneakily followed her home.

The Youngest Daughter was waiting by the window, and spotted them from the distance. Quick as a wink, she hid in the bread trough, covering herself with a sack. As the Old Woman entered her home, she raised an eyebrow, not fooling her for a single moment. A minute passed, then the Noble Heir knocked on her door.

Nervously, she invited them in, very aware of how meagre her surroundings were. They made small talk for a time, about cleaning and cooking until the Noble Heir exclaimed -

“What is that in the bread trough?” They sprung to their feet and whipped the sack away, revealing their lovely fiance! “Why did you hide, my love?”

“I wanted to see if you truly loved me and would find me!” She then explained all about the horrible creature and the retainer, and the Noble Heir’s anger was truly wondrous to behold. They went straight back to the house, and informed the Father who instantly sentenced the retainer to an execution by hanging.

They finally had the marriage they longed for and lived happily ever after, and raised many cunning children.

The Faithful Man and The Spring.

A noble lived in a fine, fine house with two sons. Yorick, the elder, was an unkind boy who thought nothing of lying, stealing, or cheating, even from his betters. Karol, the younger on the other hand was kind and gentle, and always respectful to authority. Yorick rather despised his younger brother, but their father would have no fighting between them.

However, when they reached adulthood, their father died of flux, leaving behind instructions his wealth was to be divided between his children, and shared further amongst those who earned it. Yorick scorned his father’s wishes, asserting that his fool of a little brother would just give his wealth away to everyone who even looked like they needed it. Instead he proclaimed he would give him three coins and a horse, and send him on his way.

“Yorick, you are doing my father and I a wrong.” Karol said, appealing to any brotherly affection they may once have shared. “So what? Wrong is stronger than right, and I am stronger than you! Now leave!”

Without another word exchanged between them, Karol left, riding into the distance. Some time later, the brothers met again in passing, at a crossroads.

“Emperor bless you brother.” Karol called, for it was not in his nature to hold a grudge. “Emperor? What would I want Her blessings for? It isn’t Her that is powerful in this world, but other forces.”

Karol gasped, shocked at what he was hearing. “You are wrong. The Emperor is stronger than all, and good is stronger than evil.”

“I will make you a wager Karol. I bet you one of your three coins that evil is stronger than good and we’ll let the first person we come across on this road decide. Deal?”

“Deal.” Said Karol, with no hesitation.

The brothers road in stony silence for a while, before coming across a monk in a red habit. But truly, it was not a monk, but a heretic in disguise! Yorick put the case to her and she immediately replied: “This is an easy question. Of course evil is stronger than good!”

Without a word, Karol handed over one of his coins. “Now are you convinced?” Yorick questioned, disdain dripping off him like poison.

“No. No matter what this monk says, I know the Emperor is stronger than all.”

“Do you? Shall we repeat the wager then?”

“Yes.”

The next person they came across looked like a humble blacksmith. But once again, she was in fact a heretic in disguise, touched by the Arch Enemy. Once again they asked the question, and once again it was decreed that evil would triumph over good. Karol paid up, but would not sway from his belief. Once more, they made the wager.

And once again, the heretical creatures helped Yorick, and Karol lost both his coin and his horse. But he was stubborn and pious and still refused to renounce his faith. “I am so confident, I will wager the very eyes out of my head!”

Without another word, Yorick launched himself at his brother, and bloodied his hands, gouging his eyes out of his head with a knife. “Now let the Emperor-In-Terra save you! Nothing can hurt me, for I am strong and clever and rich, and you are just a blind beggar! Before I leave you here, you can ask one favour!”

Karol, blood dripping down his sorry face, only asked to be lead to a nearby spring underneath a fir tree. “So I can wash the blood from me and rest in the shade.”

“Fine.” Yorick snapped. “But after that, you’re the Emperor’s problem.”

He left Karol underneath the tree and rode into the distance. Carefully Karol washed the blood from his skin and then sat in the shade and prayed and prayed to She-In-Terra for her help, forgiveness and protection. Night fell, and he fell asleep.

At midnight he was awoken by the sound of beautiful, gorgeous singing. He did not know exactly what it could be, but he had heard tales of the Emperor’s chosen who could sing beautifully, so beautifully She could hear them no matter where they were. They were bathing in the spring, washing each other and singing their hymns.

“Oh, if only the locals knew we were here!” One called to another. “The Emperor’s blessings on us have passed to the stream, and it could heal all ills, including the suffering of the duke’s son!”

Karol waited until they were gone and crept to the water’s edge, washing his face once more. This time though, golden tears poured from his eyes, and when he opened them, his sight was restored! He thanked the Emperor-In-Terra for this miracle, and carefully filled up a flash to take to the duke’s mansion.

“Tell him I have come to heal his son.” The guards lead him through immediately, taken by his golden eyes and confidence. The heir had been suffering from the type of illness that ruined your lungs and heart from the inside out, and no cure was known. The duke informed him that if he healed his son, he could both marry him and have half of his own lands in gratitude.

Tenderly, Karol supported the fragile heir’s head and helped him drink the pure, clear water from the goblet. Instantly, his breathing eased, his heart slowed and the fever disappeared from his cheeks. The marriage was announced at once. They were married and his fortune was made.

Yorick, when he heard what had happened, was beside himself with rage and let bloodlust clutch at his heart. “How did he manage to get his sight back? What miracle did he work to heal the heir? It must have happened under that fir tree.” Seized by the idea, he decided he must go there at once and see what was special about it.

Midnight came, and the singing began. Only this time, it was not calm. It was furious and righteous. “Did you hear the heir was healed? Somebody must have been spying on us in order to have known about the Emperor’s blessings! Let us check around here!” And so they hunted, and found Yorick hiding underneath the fir tree. As though he was no more than a doll, in a moment they had strung him up from a branch, leaving him to die.

And you’ll notice, the archenemy did not once step in to help.

#props #commissions #fairytales #prose #short stories

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