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myhauntedsalem · 1 year

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Leonarda Cianciulli – The Soap Maker

On October 15, 1970 convicted serial killer Leonarda Cianciulli died from a brain hemorrhage in a women’s asylum for the criminally insane. She had spent the previous two decades incarcerated for the murder of two women, murders she did not regret, murders even she felt were necessary, for the survival of her children.

Leonarda Cianciulli believed there was a curse on her family, and the sacrifice of three women were needed to lift it.

Cianciulli was born in the small town of Montella in 1894. She was an unhappy child, who attempted suicide on more than one occasion. Her marriage was to be arranged, and she did not like the prospect of marrying someone she was certain not to be in love with.

In 1917, she went against her parents’ wishes and married Raffaele Pansardi, a registry Clerk. The couple moved to Pansardi’s hometown in 1921, and it was at this time Cianciulli believed that her mother cursed her.

She was very worried about this curse, and being quite a spiritual person, Cianciulli sought out the advice and readings of a fortune teller and a palm reader.

The Fortune Teller told her that her children would all suffer from many troubles, and although she would have many, all would perish early.

The Palm Reader told her she saw both a prison and an asylum, somewhere in her future.

Both of these readings turned out to be quite accurate.

While in her husband’s hometown of Lauria, Cianciulli did some short time in prison for fraud. With the shame of the time looming over her head, she and her husband moved to another town, only to have their new home destroyed in an earthquake. After this piece of bad luck they moved once more, and finally settled in Correggio, another small town.

Here Cianciulli set up a small shop, and at times would read other peoples fortunes. It was a happy life until tragedy struck her and her family again and again, as the first of her ‘misfortunes’ came true.

Out of seventeen pregnancies Cianciulli was only able to raise four children out of infancy. Ten of her children died in their young years, and another three were miscarried. She became very protective of her remaining children, and when word came that her favorite son had joined the Italian army to fight in World War Two, she knew she had to do something, lest he be lost to her as well.

Cianciulli figured that the only way to lift the curse her mother had placed on to her was to perform human sacrifice. Three murders were planned and were carried out as follows.

Faustina Setti had been seeking Cianciulli’s fortune telling, as a means of helping to find herself a husband. On her final sitting, Faustina was told that her husband was waiting in another town, and that she must travel or she would be fated to never meet him. She was told not to tell anyone where she was going, and to write postcards for her family and friends to tell them where she had gone when she got there.

Setti made her plans, and on the day of departure went to visit Cianciulli one last time. She had with her postcards written to her family as directed by Cianciulli, to help her with her future.

With everything in place and ready for departure, Setti was offered a parting drink of wine. However, when she drank the wine Setti fell unconscious, and Cianciulli took to her with an axe, killing her. Cianculli then set to dismembering the corpse over a basin in a closet. In her words:

“I threw the pieces into a pot, added seven kilos of caustic soda, which I had bought to make soap, and stirred the whole mixture until the pieces dissolved in a thick, dark mush that I poured into several buckets and emptied in a nearby septic tank.

As for the blood in the basin, I waited until it had coagulated, dried it in the oven, ground it and mixed it with flour, sugar, chocolate, milk and eggs, as well as a bit of margarine, kneading all the ingredients together. I made lots of crunchy tea cakes and served them to the ladies who came to visit, though Giuseppe and I also ate them.” (-stated by Cianciulli at her trial)

The second victim was Francesca Soavi, who was looking for work. Cianciulli ‘saw’ that a suitable job awaited her in the town of Piacenza. Once again postcards to friends and family were written in advance, and the murder, soap making and biscuit baking with the body took place.

Four weeks later a third woman, Virginia Cacioppo fell victim. She too had work found for her in another town, and once again the murder took place exactly as the first two had.

This time Cianciulli added that Cacioppo made for a really creamy soap, and that the biscuits cooked from her remains were especially sweet and that everyone thoroughly enjoyed them!

Cianciulli’s plot was finally undone several years later, when Cacioppo’s sister reported her missing and police arrived at Cianciulli’s house, as it was the last place Cacioppo had been seen. Cianciulli did not even attempt to hide what she had done and admitted everything to police.

During the subsequent trial, Cianciulli spoke quite frankly about everything she had done, and even corrected the prosecutors on details of her crime, going so far as to tell where some of the evidence had gone:

“I gave the copper ladle, which I used to skim the fat off the kettles, to my country, which was so badly in need of metal during the last days of the war…. ”

For the three murders Cianciulli was sentenced to thirty years prison, and three years in an asylum for the criminally insane.

#Leonarda Cianciulli #the soap maker #serial killer #paranormal #ghost and spirits #ghost and hauntings #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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diosefm · 3 years

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ATONEMENT: the demise of diose valey

there’s a new revolution, a loud evolution that i saw born of confusion and quiet collusion of which mostly i’ve known a modern day woman with a weak constitution, ‘cause i’ve got monsters still under my bed that i could never fight off a gatekeeper carelessly dropping the keys on my nights off

tw: death, alcohol, paranoia, violence, kidnapping, murder, torture

TIME OF DEATH: 2:13 AM

trigger free tl;dr

FRANCIS FOREVER — i don’t know what to do without you, i don’t know where to put my hands. i’ve been trying to lay my head down, but I’m writing this at three am

3:08 AM

Sleep evades you. It’s a recurring thing now.

Wine doesn’t help. You’d think it would at least make you tired enough to lie in bed and empty your head, but all it does is give you a headache that can only be cured with more and more glasses. And you think too much. Hyperaware of everything going on around you.

And even if you can’t sleep, you still have nightmare. You’re wide awake when you swear someone is banging on your window, but it’s just the rain. The sun comes out, hits your eyes and forces you to close them as you get used to the light. Then your door opens.

You’ve lost count of how many times the avoxes there to serve you have been victims of your latest tirades. You lash out. Scream and shout as you destroy your suite because it’s all you can do. Hysterical, that’s what you are. So you drink more. Slur out a poor attempt at an apology. It doesn’t matter. Next morning it’ll be as if nothing happened and you will snap again.

Sleep could help, but you’re no longer used to not sharing your bed with someone.

Days and nights blur together. There is not an end nor a beginning to your days. You’re lying on the floor, at the brink of passing out with a glass of wine in your hand. For weeks, you’ve feared someone will slip something in your drink, poison you. Little did you know, you’re already doing all the work for them.

You can’t remember the last time you ate, nor the last time you slept. You’re delirious. Weak after spending the little strength you had yelling at the avox with the black hair. That is why when your door is opened, you don’t bother to look up.

Your bruised cheek rests against the floor of your suit, the coldness making some of the soreness go away. Someone approaches you, kneels down beside you and runs their hand through your messy hair.

“Pista?“

Incredible how despite everything, you are still able to hold onto the smallest glimmer of hope. If he is there, maybe you can stand up. Do better. Be better. You promised.

Your eyes are tired, but even despite how blurry your vision is, you can tell it’s him. Desperate, you prop yourself up with the help of your arm and cling onto him, allow him to lift you off the ground. It’s not until you breathe in his scent that you notice his smell is different.

Frightened, you take one look at his face and realized you’ve been tricked. It’s eerie how much this man looks like him. Has all of this been done on purpose? Flight or fight. You manage to get him to let you go, but your body is nothing but alcohol at this point, you stumble and fall onto the ground. He calls you a bitch, which you think you deserve. Grabs onto your hair before you can flee, tugging so hard you feel he pulls part of your scalp with it.

You’d yell for Slate to move save you like he’s done before, but he is gone. And soon so will you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him pull something out of his pocket. He jabs a needle into your neck, and you finally get to sleep.

SEVEN DEVILS — seven devils all around me, seven devils in my house. see, they were there when i woke up this morning. i’ll be dead before the day is done

8:42 PM

The faint scent of expensive perfume stirs you awake. Your body is sore, and your head pounding. But your outer appearance doesn’t show how terrible you feel. You catch your reflection on a glass table and marvel at what you see, because you swear you’ve never looked more beautiful.

The dress you are wearing is very familiar. It takes you a few minutes until you realize it’s one of your projects, one that had been sitting in your studio for months. They’ve been at your home, invaded your privacy, gone through your things.

Hair is freshly dyed, perfectly styled to frame your face and the gorgeous job the makeup artists did. No matter what your circumstances have been, you’ve had the ability to always look magnificent. Still, they’ve done a masterful job showing your full potential.

No wonder so much people have always been desperate to be you, with you, or they just want to end you.

As your eyes get used to the light, you notice you’re sitting in the middle of what appears to be a television set. Your first instinct is to explore it, to leave the pristine mint green couch you’re sitting on, but you notice the shackles around your ankles, essentially holding you in place.

You’re not alone for long. Far away, you notice your father’s assistant woman. A petite woman with a fiery red mane of hair and much younger than you. You know very well she’s his latest conquest and a social climber you managed to spot the second you first set your eyes on her.

Cherry, you think her name is. Tacky, just like her. But as much as you hate her, she seems to be your only hope. You call out her name, but she ignores you. Long gone are the days of her begging for your attention. Now you’re the one desperate for her to even glance your way.

This is only the start.

Slowly, more people start arriving,, all of them with a job to do. And despite being surrounded by a crowd now, you’re ignored by everyone. It’s the first time this has ever happened. It doesn’t matter how much you’re glowing, you’re no one to them.

Despite your screams and your pleading, no one tells you what’s happening until a man arrives. You’ve seen him already, you just can’t remember. It’s his scent that clues you in, and you go feral. But you can’t move. the shackles are noisy enough to get everyone to look at you, but he is the only one focused on you, telling you that you need to shut up and avoid making yourself look bad because you will have all of Panem’s eyes on you soon. He adds a threat to his spiel, he brings up Sage and shows you her icture and you instantly press your lips tightly together.

Caesar arrives shortly. Does’t greet you, doesn’t acknowledge you. Whatever fake yet cordial relationship existed between the two of you is now gone. He is there to do his job, that’s it. He shuffles his notes, deep in thought. The show should commence shortly.

Prime time TV, here you come.

YOU’RE ON AIR

The title card is gorgeous. But how could it not, given who seems to be behind all of this. First thing you see on the screen behind Caesar is a slide announcing the following show will be a mandatory viewing all across Panem. Odd, so you keep watching.

Next, you see your father’s name on his signature font and golden lettering following by his title as executive producer. It only adds to your confusion, brows furrowing as your eyes remain fixated on the screen. Your father is an all-too powerful media mogul whose name is attached to anything related to the games, but you still don’t understand why you’re there.

At least not until you see the name of this TV special. Inside Panem: Framing Diose Valey

What happens next is a blur. Two hours filled with memories you thought you had forgotten or wish you could forget. The list of little tidbits and scenes the people of Panem are presented with are as followed:

It all starts with your more than humble beginnings. Images of the run-down house you were born in are shown. You find out who your real parents were along with the rest of the country. A butcher and a seamstress. Both starved to death after after the Capitol left Ten with almost nothing to eat. all to celebrate Snow’s birthday. Your father doesn’t show it that way, but you are able to look past his tricks and propaganda now.

He is an artist, painting the image of a perfect family. Her parents are heroes, saving a child from an imminent death and giving her a life she could have never dreamt of. If you didn’t know any better, you’d be touched. But you are that child, and you’ve grown up and realized you were nothing but a pawn. A tool to up their social standing, to improve their public image. Not that it matters now. Your father has done an incredible job making himself look like father of the year. And maybe a long time ago you genuinely believed that, but the more of this you watch, the less you’re inclined to give him or your mother the benefit of the doubt.

You grow up, flourish into a poised and beautiful young lady. But you’re still a child. Barely into your teens and already perfectly groomed to be just like your parents. It’s the Valey way. Why bother with a normal childhood when you ought to be busy aiming for greatness. Everyone loves you, lauds you. Great things are coming for you.

Your debut is a complete success. The younger stylist in the history of the games, it’s a great honor and your parents couldn’t be any prouder. From the get go, you demonstrate how talented you are. Despite your age, your creations are the best in the entire lineup. Many stylist didn’t want you there, thought you had only gotten a spot in the team due to your name. You proved all of them wrong.

You are a child forced to grow up too fast, but why does that matter when you have a successful career and a thriving business.

To you, the next scene doesn’t come as a surprise. More of your accomplishments are shown before you are forced to see a summary of the 55th games. You look away, not wanting to see Aven and what they did to Caspian, but your head is held in place by someone behind you. Your eyes begin watering as you see him take his last breath, covered in blood, his face unrecognizable. A makeup artist is ushered in and she pats your face with a tissue and fixes a makeup. Someone orders her to stay by your side, telling her that will happen again. That sounds like a warning. Not directed at her, but you.

Showing what became of Caspian right at the start is something you think was done on purpose. It makes it hurt more when images of you two appear on screen. Laughing, talking. Your father’s collection really has everything; he’s kept a close record of every single thing you’ve ever done. It enrages you when you replay your first kiss in the middle of a private fitting, the way Caspian caresses your cheek and promises he is coming back for you. It’s pure evil that you are forced to watch all of this, but you think it’s even worse every personal detail of your life is now being used to keep others entertained.

Your father, always so careful about his image, does not show how he refused to keep him alive. Your mother’s punishment after his death is not mentioned either. Your trauma doesn’t matter.

After more images of the rest of your teenage years, your introduction into adulthood is shown and there is a shift in the tone of the program. Your innocent is now long gone. You’re a woman now, one that is perfectly aware of how to use her womanly charms to get what she wants. What your mother encouraged is now a bad thing. Unbecoming of a high society lady. Your behavior is a product of your own trauma, a combination of your mother meddling with your unresolved issues, using them to toy with your head and turn you into something cold and calculated. Having her tell you tears weren’t a woman’s only weapons was a recurring thing all through your life, but given that she is supposed to be the perfect mother, Panem doesn’t see that.

Tiberius was a constant in your life for years. Not in the same way Slate was, obviously. You never shared your bed with him. You never schemed with him to cheat and favor your tributes. You never plotted to have nuisances murdered. Tiberius was the brains behind everything but the Capitol won’t let such a beloved figure like him see his legacy be tarnished, especially by the likes of a newly disgraced figure. Everything is blamed on you. Diose tricked him. Diose forced him to do this. Diose seduced him. Tiberius is innocent. It’s all bullshit, but you’re not innocent either. If there is something your father has proved so far, it’s that the best calumnies are spiced with the truth.

You’ve left a sizeable list of victims. Some are dead, some were luckier, having only suffered by seeing their own reputations ruined by the great Diose Valey. This was something else your parents encouraged, but not it’s being used against you. You could argue that things are being taken out of context, but you did all of those things. You lied, you cheated, you killed. Not directly, but does that matter now? You’re heinous person, the worst Capitol has to offer. Why someone wanting to do good and change the system you’ve upheld and taken so much advantage of would trust you is a mystery.

Your accomplishments are presented along with more of your escapades and intrigues. Death, suffering, greed. Diose Valey is nothing but an evil woman, a harlot desperate to amass as many power and money as she could No one saw it before, but thankfully this story has a hero. Minos Valey is here to open everyone’s eyes. He’s proved no one outside the Capitol should trust you, potentially destroyed the few alliances you’ve made, what else could he do?

Rebel sympathizers have more than enough reasons to hate you now that it’s been shown you’re the shining example of the sins and crimes important Capitoles have incurred in. They’ve always know they’re bad, but now your name is at the top of the list of the worst of the crop.

Cut all ties. Despite everything, you’re not the only one with skeletons in her closet. There is still people out there stupid enough to forgive your sins because they don’t know any better. Everything you’ve done so far could be excused by saying you did it to continue protecting the values and principles of the Capitol. People have done worse and still came out of top, you could do it. Or could have, had it not been for the train.

You see Pista and you start screaming again. Caesar glances at you before he asks someone to gag you, your screams won’t let him focus and you’re giving him a headache. As per usual, the editing is top notch. Diose Valey, the perfect Capitolite, is now a heinous traitor. More of your words are taken out of context, a narrative crafted to make it all seem that your change of heart happened because you wanted to benefit only yourself. You were willing to destroy the people that gave you everything and turned you into what you are now. Murder can be excused, disloyalty and treason cannot.

Neither you or Pista did anything to hurt any of the Peacekeepers that stood in your way. Did you threaten them? Absolutely. But it was done to protect the man you forced to help you. An image of you attempting to intimidate a peacekeeper by telling them they don’t know who they’re messing is shown. You remember that. It happened. But the next bit revealing the bloody remains of the Peacekeeper you confronted was not your doing. Thing is, who would believe you at this point?

You’ve switched teams, seem content plotting against your current government. The sensitivity that came with your new goals is nowhere to be found. According to your father, all you’ve done after the train has the only intention of benefiting you. Selfish, entitled, spoiled. You will never change.

He doesn’t misses the chance to embarrass you even further by letting the whole country be a witness to your outburst at the wedding along with you supposedly mistreating your poor mother after some heavy drinking. There is a new narrative line he is following, one you don’t quite understand until it’s explained how unstable you are. You’ve been kind enough to give him more than enough material to work with in the past few days. The awful behavior caused by your paranoia has been turned into a montage of Diose Valey’s worst moments. You’re an unhinged drunk now, an unruly and hysterical woman that can barely function because the weight of every bad thing she’s ever done is eating her up. You think she is being poisoned, people are ought to get you. The terrified faces of the avoxes tasked to care for you are shown in between shots of you screaming and destroying your suite. No mention of Slate’s disappearance and it being the cause of most of your lunacy is made.

It should be all over now. The screen goes black, no one is talking. They’re all too busy looking at you in pure disgust. You’re given a three minute break before you have a camera pointed straight at your face. Another threat is made. The same man who’s been silently torturing you ever since he took you from your room shows you more pictures. Virgo, Robyn, Slate, Pista. That must mean he is still alive, but you’re not given any time to process this information. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to understand. You know how it all works. If you don’t comply, others will pay. A nod is given before the makeup artist fixes your makeup.

The show is back on and a clearly glum Caesar comments on what all of you have witnessed. Everything is a shame, it’s all so sad. You were a role model, what happened? Please, as if this isn’t nothing more than a punishment. You’re being framed by your own father and every person in that room is a willing participant.

The interview part of the special doesn’t last very long, because it’s not actually an interview. It’s your father’s own clever way forcing you to confess. You get the privilege of being the final nail on the coffin you will be buried in. that is, if you ever get that.

You blackmailed Tiberius, forced him to be part of your nefarious plans. Yes, you meddled with the games. We got a list of people who passed due to your doing, can you confirm it all being true? Fine, that one you can’t deny, even if everything is not what it seems.

I cheated, I lied, I killed, I destroyed many families. You hate that you’ve been beaten at your own game, but there is nothing else to do. It’s either this or seeing those you love suffer. You tired of seeing people be affected by your actions, so you lie again let them pin every single bad thing that’s ever happened on you.

Everything is almost over. You’re quite proud of yourself or avoiding crying. You were warned about having to look perfect, and you’ve complied with them again and again. No one else is getting hurt. Only you. But you’ve accepted it.

Caesar goes on a spiel about your recent actions, questions your mental stability, though he is not talking to you, but to the camera. Another announcement is made. His voice is soft and sympathetic as he explains that given how clear it is you’ve gone beyond dangerously teetering on the edge of insanity and have clearly crossed it some time ago.

Do you agree? There is no answer from you. Well, as we all care so much about you, certain measures have been taken. Diose Valey, all your assets will be seized, put under your mother’s name.

Some more is said, a proper explanation is given in order to give viewers some context and explain what all of this means, but you stopped listening the second you understood you now have… Nothing. Your home, your business, your money. Without people to trust that was all you had to rely on, your only way of protecting yourself, but now you’ve got nothing.

Your credibility is shattered. The alliances you’ve made on both sides, you fear, are certainly ruined now. All the information, connections, and secrets you’ve gathered throughout the years and could be used against them now are unusable. The Capitol has shown you the house always wins.

Everything is over and you’re dragged away. You’d scream, but it’s pointless. You’ve come to terms of what’s coming next. Because, there is nothing else they could do to you. Death, that’s it. You’ve been shamed and humiliated, tortured one last time before they get rid of you for good.

YOUNG & BEAUTIFUL — will you still love me when i’m no longer young and beautiful? will you still love me when i got nothing but my aching soul?

1:51 AM

You didn’t notice you were put to sleep again. You don’t understand why you’re still breathing, nor why you’re naked and tied to a table face down. Everything is pitch black until you manage to spot a very faint and orange light near you. You can’t make up what it is, not until it’s almost dangerously close to your face you can feel the heat whatever that thing is irradiates.

ЯOTIAЯT

You’re so out of it. But then, you remember seeing those things before. Your father owned a customized branding iron he used to mark all of your horses with the Valey family logo. Everything clicks into place and you start screaming again just as more people come into the room, one of them holding you down as the tool is pressed against the back of your right shoulder. It’s past 2 am by that point.

All you remember is the smell of burnt flesh before you pass out due to the pain.

4:29 AM

Beaten. Bloodied. The wound cauterized itself and that’s enough for them to be done with you. They’ve done a number to your face, and body. You can feel it in the soreness affecting you from head to tie, but you’re not concerned with that. It’s your shoulders that is killing you. You can still smell the burn flesh as well as the dried blood stuck to your skin all mixed in with the putrid scent of the garbage all around you. You don’t know what time it is, whether if the darkness you see is due to the time or being inside a garbage bin.

You attempt to get out, but the pain on your shoulder is unbearable. It renders you unable to move enough to be able to do much. And when you attempt to use your hands, you notice them going numb, refusing to follow your orders.

Maybe you ought to stay there. Maybe now that they’ve taken your money and the allure that drove people to you, you’re finally right where you belong.

#IT'S PRIME TIME TV BELOVEDS #sp #ch: 5 #i spent a lot of time writing dis. read all of it or perish

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achillieus · 3 years

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we’re fools (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, a lot of sexual references, but also a lot of fluff, bucky and reader are in love, also bucky gets cheesy and he hates it

(other parts) (masterlist)

part 3/3:

Bucky thinks he fell in love on a Tuesday.

“This year, I’m gonna ask Peggy Carter out.” It’s the first day of their third semester and Steve is putting his black baseball cap in his perfect hair, checking his reflection on his phone screen. One of the freshman girls winks at him and he shyly half smiles.

Usually, Bucky would tease him about it, but now he’s attention is wholly on something else. Someone else.

A girl at the other end of the hall, holding a paper juice box, wearing a gaudy denim dress that stops right before her knees.

He’s certain he hasn’t seen her before and judging by the adrift look on her face he deduces she’s in her first year. Is she pretty? He can’t decide. She’s definitely something. And if he stares at her a bit longer than socially acceptable, well let’s say, it’s completely unintended.

“Buck, did you hear what I said?” Steve says at one point and Bucky isn’t sure for how long he has been lost in her figure.

“Yeah sure.” The girl starts walking at their direction -it must be your lucky day, Bucky-, clutching the golden heart jewel around her neck. She’s looking at the doors, she’s looking at the big campus map they have on the wall. She’s looking everywhere but at him and it’s almost offensive considering the amount of time he spent looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” And then she’s there standing a few steps behind Steve. Almost hidden behind his colossal demeanor. “I can’t seem to find the Admission Office.”

A small nervous laugh escapes her lips and Bucky watches the little wrinkles around her eyes, the subtle blush on her cheeks. She doesn’t look pretty. No. She looks consuming.

“Admission office is on the left, doll”. He replies a little too fast. He had to beat Steve. He had to talk to her.

She smiles at him and somehow, along that smile, Bucky thinks he fell in love. With you.

(bucky barnes has been in love with you for 563 days)

“Did you just kiss me?”

His voice is barely a whisper and his vision is blurry and it’s weird because suddenly he realizes how scared he’s of you. Of the power you have on him. An alarming craving. Every addiction he can’t control combined. Bucky isn’t afraid of many things, not exactly. But he’s afraid that you’ll take his heart and break it, if you want to. And he’s more afraid that he’ll just allow you to. He wonders, for the split of a second, if you have any idea how everything changed when your lips met his. How something inside of him shifted.

“I’m sorry,” You finally answer and he needs a moment to compose himself, “I’m so sorry I just thought-”

“Shut up, I’d died if you hadn’t kissed me.”

“What?”

It’s innocent and terribly oblivious, the way you ask him that and he half smiles, almost touches your palm before his mind stops racing. Ignores the alcohol in his body. Reminds him that he’s Bucky Barnes, that he’s clever and brilliant and a little bit narcissistic and that he doesn’t do love. Not anymore. And that people adore him for that. And that he needs to uphold it. At least try to.

“I’m not repeating that soppy thing I said,” He drawls and smirks, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light of the hall. He has his mask back on. He’s playing his part again. And then he takes a quick step, opens his door and turns around, swift motions and hard grips and suddenly your spine hits the walls of his room. “But you can repeat that sexy thing you did with your tongue.”

Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows he’d perish and wither in a blast if you asked him to, yet he would never admit that. At least not so fast. And specially not to you. He has built his persona so carefully, wore it like an armor, it has become a second skin.

His chapped lips scratch soft against your neck, his hands play with the end of your dress and you observe the way his orbs are colored darker now. He knows what he’s doing. It’s a show he’s practiced. His touch is sharp, like a razor, cuts through your epidermis, comes close to your veins and the muscles of your heart.

And you’re ready to close your eyes, savor every minute of it, offer yourself like an altar and let him wipe the rationality out of you, but the moment his fingers find the wet silk between your legs there’s pain and your throat dries out instantly.

“Bucky, wait.”

“What’s wrong doll?”

“Can we stop?”

There’s the cruel split of a moment where the anxiety inside of you flares up dangerously and you fill like on the edge of a cliff, like falling and it’s horrible. And then you see his body relax, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing.

“Thank God you asked.”

“Barnes,” you hit him with your elbow, “You’re doing wonders for my self esteem right now!”

“You’re an idiot,” he replies with a grimace, “It’s just that I’m drunk and I prefer if I’m not drunk when we have sex. I want to remember the whole thing.”

A strange sensation tingles somewhere between your ribs and your stomach, something so pure and new, and it raises goosebumps all over you. And you smile at him.

And somehow along that smile, Bucky’s mask starts to fall.

Bucky Barnes, you learnt within your first month in college, is a year older than you, a proud boy that always asks the right questions and always gives the right answers, with charms and wits of a living god.

Bucky Barnes, you learnt the night you kissed him in the narrow aisle, may have a sharp tongue but he also has the sweetest lips, soft and liqueur like.

Bucky Barnes, you learn some days later, doesn’t want many people to know about you two, and sits three tables away during lunch.

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

Your mind is racing with dozens of hurtful possibilities, some more or less, and Bucky looks at you, eyes widen and surprised.

“Why would I be embarrassed of you?”

“I don’t know,” you take the tea cup in your hands, drink and stay silent for a while, observe the way he’s fidgeting with his fingers, “Why else would you avoid me whenever there’s someone else but Sam around?”

It takes some time before he walks closer, sits next to you by his bedframe and touches your hand, your skin freezing under his.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

Your heart almost stops, because Bucky is never scared, and his answer feels strangely heavy and bitter from his lips when he says, “I just don’t want anyone to ruin this.”

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk like he usually does, just stares at you with narrow eyes and a quick breath.

“Bucky, I hate it to break it to you,” you say, a glint of amusement in your voice, “But I don’t think others care that much about us.”

You cup his face in your hands, guide him backwards, his back hitting the pillow and it’s the first time he has no choice but to comply.

“And even if they do,” you breath in, wet your lips and tease the corner of his mouth with your finger, “It’s not our problem.”

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, shifts even closer to you, his heart not missing a beat. And when you kiss him, he smiles. And somehow along that smile, Bucky becomes more of himself.

It goes like this;

People read it in his eyes. How his gaze never leaves you even while you’re writing a test and he needs to concentrate, how he looks mesmerized when you braid your hair while scanning the textbook in front of you. How he could find you even in the middle of the biggest crowd.

People see it in your reactions. How your fingers always wrap around his wrist, almost instinctively, before he leaves, and you kiss him one time on the lips, and then one more on the cheek. How your voice changes as soon as he enters the room. How you’d know he’s here even without looking.

You really have to try to be oblivious to love.

(text messages between classes)

(10:26 AM) bucky: hey does taylor swift have to be playing in the background when we have sex

(10:27 AM) you: it’s not even noon bucky what the hell

(10:27 AM) bucky: i went through your spotify and APPARENTLY you have a “🍆🍆🍆” playlist

(10:27 AM) bucky: and it’s just taylor swift and hozier???

(10:27 AM) bucky: who the hell wants to have sex with a taylor swift song playing

(10:28 AM) you: I’m gonna kill you

(10:28 AM) bucky: nah <3

It’s surprisingly easy, dating Bucky Barnes, and by the end of the first month, you feel at home, at ease. He talks a lot, way more than you expected him to, he shares his favorites, the way he always underlines quotes he likes in the books he’s reading or how he never eats anything that has soy in it. He shows you everything about him, not just who he is, but who he’s ever been. And it’s beautiful.

And you observe how he breathes easier now, smiles more. He doesn’t keep his guard up, doesn’t flinch when nobody’s looking at him.

He thinks it’s weird.

He thinks it’s weird, because kissing has always been an act of foreplay to him and he never paid much attention, but now, with you, he could spend his whole life kissing you.

But when you start pulling at the buttons of his black expensive shirt, well, it’s not like he’s complaining. He presses his body against yours, his hands almost shaking, his fingers burying in your hair, slowly tugging.

“Bucky,” You breath in his neck, “I may be bad at this.”

“What?” He whispers as he leaves wet trails all the way to your chest.

“I haven’t done this before, so I may be bad at it.”

He stares right at your lips, notices your sweet cherry scent mixing with the sharp notes of his aftershave, touches the spot under your eyes and smiles.

“Guess we’ll have to do it over and over again then.” He’s half laughing, half kissing your shoulder and you can feel your cheeks flush and your entire being tighten.

And then his cold fingertips draw circles on your inner thighs and you close your eyes, and Bucky forgets how to breath.

“I probably sound like a fool but, I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t plan on saying it that early, but he’s here, warm and glistening and in your arms and you can’t go another minute without hearing the words out loud.

“And I probably sound competitive but, I’ve been in love with you since God knows when.”

(AH IT’S FINISHED BUT YAY THEY’RE IN LOVE)

tagging: @tonystankschild @osterfieldshollandgirl @roguesthetic @buckyjms @ohladymacbeth

#i had one of the worst months but hello hello i am back #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #college au #au!bucky barnes #college au!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #hassandra #fools

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treybriggsthewriter · 4 years

Link

This makes me nervous, but I’m going to post it. I’m going to try my best to achieve my goals. I’ve put in a ton of work already, so I’m looking for additional help.

From the campaign:

My name is Trey Briggs, and I'm a black woman who writes paranormal horror, speculative fiction, and other types of fiction. You can find my stories at MaybeTrey , Astrid the Devil , and on Instagram , Medium , and Wattpad .

My stories are aimed at black people who want to read dark stories that focus on original black characters that are complex and interesting. I genuinely believe Black audiences deserve a variety of genres to delve into, and I want to introduce them to paranormal horror, dark romance, and fantasy that they haven't gotten enough of in the past. I also believe that this can be done across multiple mediums, and I spend my money with black creative professionals to make these experiences extend beyond my words. For the last two years, I've run my stories on sites and Instagram to great reception. I like to craft complex experiences that offer looks at character backgrounds, side and backstories, full websites for each title, and more. I also provide encyclopedias, maps, audio journals, and other ways to get into each world. During these last few years, I've run into a lot of walls, jumped a lot of hurdles, and tried my best. I've worked with amazing black artists, voice actors, and actresses, musicians, designers, and more. I trust my ability to run a project, especially when it comes to planning and finding talent. My overall goal is to run a team of black creatives that crafts novels, graphic novels, audio experiences, and animated series for a dedicated audience.

Why I Need Help Long story short: I have the skill, I have the marketing/website building/business experience, and I have the drive. There's a lot I can do on my own, but there's also a lot that gets left behind because I don't have the money I need to proceed at a steady pace. I need help with funding so I can focus, hire the right people, and craft these stories the way they deserve to be crafted. I have thus far spent over $60,000 of my own money on my projects over the past two years - the writing and site-building are easy for me; the rest has to be hired out. I have art, site costs for hosting, domains, templates, specific plugins, and maintenance, audio (and vocal artists to pay), musical, and editing costs. I'm by no means rich or even particularly financially stable. I have taken on tons of extra clients for my digital marketing business, transcribed hundreds of hours of audio for dirt cheap, and taken out personal loans. I even worked a second full-time job along with my full-time business last year to afford to produce the content I love. It's starting to take a toll on my mental health. I plan on continuing to fund these projects out of pocket (and finding ways to do so), but having financial help, however big or small, would allow me to move a lot faster and with less stress. It would let me flesh out ideas and concepts that I have had to scrap because I can only physically handle so much extra work. I run a full-time marketing business from home, homeschool my autistic 10-year-old, and generally have a busy life. Some of the strain is taking a toll on me, and I don't want to give up. Having some financial backing could allow me to drop a client or two after a few months and focus on the work I love to do.

How You Can Help I mainly need a start—a sort of base. I want to emphasize that I plan to continue to provide the main bulk of funding for my projects. I know my goals are ambitious, and I know each step will take time and money. I welcome any help to make the process smoother and to get around the initial hurdles. I'd like to have ebooks and novels offered on my site by the end of the year (along with the free serials and stories). Funding means that I can broaden the projects, include more free aspects to my sites, and secure direct financing through sales of ebooks and audiobooks sooner. It also means that I can offer MORE stories, whether they are online only or fully fleshed out novels and sites. I am swamped with trying to work enough to cover all my bills and creative projects, so I lose a lot of time I could spend plotting and writing. If I have better funding, I can get my stories out quicker (and with fewer mistakes).

The Initial Stories Let's talk about my stories! If you're familiar with my work already, you can skip to the next section. My main story site is Maybe Trey . Currently, I have two big titles and a bunch of smaller ones that I am seeking help with funding: Astrid the Devil

Astrid the Devil is the complicated story of a girl who inherits not only her family's features and DNA, but their fears, struggles, and fights. It's the story of a condition called Devil Syndrome, the women who suffer it, and the monsters that devour them. It's the story of the fight to save the people you love at the expense of innocent lives. At its core, Astrid the Devil is the story of a woman who inherits the chaos of three generations before her. It's a look at what is truly passed down to our children, and how they're left to fight our battles in the aftermath of our failures. It's the tale of an indescribable monster and the women who struggle to defeat it. It's a journey into how their every decision could save or destroy an entire world. Astrid the Devil is the story of Astrid Snow, but her story can't be told without the story of the women before her.

Vicious: On MaybeTrey and The Vicious site (in progress)

Somewhere, a war is brewing. That's the only thing that's for sure to Junnie Gorton, a young horned girl suffering from a debilitating disease called Horn Rot. She typically dealt with her low survival rate and abnormally large horns by escaping the world with her best friend, Lewish. Now she's forced to figure out which side is which, save her entire species, and find out the truth behind the sudden uprising in her home. Horn Rot, a highly contagious and violent disease spreading through horned people, is causing mass amounts of madness and death. Normal horns grow in ways that will pierce, suffocate, and maim their owners, and the only one who can stop it is Junnie's mother, Lyria. As Lyria falls deeper and deeper into an anti-social revolt, the country reels. While Junnie broods, her entire species must prepare for mass extinction. Her brother plots with a group of people with less than good intentions and Lewish is quieter than usual. In a civilization brought up on extreme violence and competition, Junnie and Lewish try their best not to get swallowed by their culture, their lives, or their horns.

Bunni and Bosque :

Bunni lives. Bosque dies. We all know how this story starts. Bunni is obsessed with destruction and death. She comes from the healthiest Horned family in her country. She's from the oldest, purest bloodline in the world. And she's bored with it. Bunni spends most of her time trying to escape her duties as a pureblood. She wants things dirty, messy, foul, inconsistent. Having parents that are willing to kill to keep their bloodline pure is annoying. Knowing that she'll live a long, full life, produce more perfect children, and die unscathed is agonizing. Bunni wants something to mourn. We all know how this story ends. Bosque is destined to die an agonizing death, alone on his family's land. He's watched everyone he loved and grew up with perish. Sometimes it was because of their disease. Sometimes it was because of the malice and hatred of others. While he's absolutely withdrawn and satisfied with his life, Bosque has never had a chance to live it. He spends his days basking in the sun, bathing in wood baths, and contemplating the end. Bosque isn't interested in joining the rest of the world. He'd rather die out, alone, where his family belonged. Bosque wants to go peacefully. But neither expected to meet each other one day in a supermarket. Neither expected to fall in love, lust, and every vicious and dirty thing between. Neither expected to be so right for each other, all while being wrong for everyone else. You know the end of this story. Bunni lives, Bosque dies. But maybe something will change.

My smaller titles, Bunni and Bosque /Aite and Jude, can be found at Maybe Trey .

The Business Plan

The initial phase of my business plan is to get the sites populated with ebooks and audiobooks for sale. I also have prints that can be sold. Right now, I am in the audience-building phase while I save up for editing the full novels.

In terms of an actual business with which to publish the stories, I already have a registered publication company in Illinois: Wolfless Studios LLC. I took this step earlier this year with plans to self-publish Astrid and Vicious. So that is paid for and done.

I have also gotten initial editing done on the first six chapters of Astrid, though it will need to be edited from the beginning again once everything is said and done. I've spent over $1000 on that so far, and it would go a lot faster if I didn't need to save up to edit each chapter.

Astrid the Devil is fully plotted, outlined, and only needs the last three chapters. Bunni and Bosque and Vicious are newer, but plotted and already deep into character development (all being shared across social and Wattpad for audience growth). Aite and Jude and other shorts are plotted, and three other unshared stories are plotted and at the editing phase.

Other costs and ways I would use the funding (I would still put in my own money and do as much on my own as possible):

Initial $30K

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy edits for Astrid (currently at 250000+ words/expecting over 300000 at $0.02 rate)

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy Edits for Vicious

$3000 - $4000 Line and Copy Edits for Bunni and Bosque

ISBN Purchases (Separate ISBN for each format for each book) - https://www.myidentifiers.com/identify-protect-your-book/barcode

Covers for Astrid/Vicious/B&B Print Versions

Site Hosting Costs and Maintenance for 2 Years

Site completion for all stories

Initial store and app development

40K - Marketing and Graphic Novels

Social, Print, and Web ads

Email Marketing Campaigns

Booths at Decatur Book Festival (depending on COVID)

Social ads and promos

50 to 60 pages

First two chapters offered as free promo with email sign-ups

Audio journals for each character

Situational audio journals

Encyclopedia for Astrid (finishing up)/Vicious

65K - Hires and Next Phases

Ability to hire a Full-Time Editor

Audio Series for each (professionally done)

Vicious Graphic Novel

Additional Title Added

Short animations for both Vicious and Astrid (with plans to fund more with book sales)

Fleshed out Story Sections (Novellas for each character of each series)

Short comic series with Astrid and Vicious side characters

Possible to plan out monthly subscription service with new stories and 'story package' deliveries

75K -

Astrid the Devil Graphic Novel

Vicious Graphic Novel

Astrid the Devil Animated Short

Ability to hire part-time Web Developer

Additional bigger title

Anything Over - I ascend into pure light. And also, I can add titles, cover more mediums, and eventually expand my publishing to other black creatives.

From there, I should be able to handle the funding via sales of books, comics, audio, and more. Again, I will always offer mostly free content across the sites.

I believe in proof of concept, and I have diehard fans on my social platforms. With no outside funding, I've been able to a lot on my own. I'd love to expand my business into one that does the same for other black authors, artists, voice actors, and animators somewhere down the line.

Thank you so much for your consideration. I appreciate all my readers, present and future, and I appreciate any help!

See incentives and more on the actual campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-trey-publish-black-paranormal-horror-stories

Thank you so much!

#support black authors #writeblr #support black creators #black creators #original characters #original story #donate #buy black #black businesses #my writing #Astrid the Devil #Vicious #Bunni and Bosque #Aite and Jude #Trey Briggs the Writer #paranormal horror #speculative fiction #gofundme

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angelssdecay · 3 years

Text

Why Xiao isn’t just some edgelord, an essay by yours truly (or: I need sleep)

Before you read!!

This was mainly written because I kind of got tired of Xiao being labelled as ‘edgelord’ a lot of times and while I have nothing against it when it’s jokingly said (after all I call Childe a ‘clown’ all the time or Klee ‘Arson child’ haha, you get what I mean) I also feel like him getting meme’d as that leads to a lot of mischaracterization. I’m not here to attack anyone or anything!! Just sharing my personal thoughts about him influenced by his canon lore in game + headcanons I developed while writing fics for him. I hope you don’t mind my brainrot.

- I suppose that a lot of Xiao’s characterization as an ‘edgelord’ comes from his wildly dark history and the way he expresses himself (like growling when he’s thinking about his past memories) that is quite different from other characters in Genshin when he’s not like this because he wants to but because he’s been shaped by his trauma that reaches wide into the past and the fact that he doesn’t belong in the human world - he is stuck in the mortal world while having to defend it from otherworldly beings and forces that threaten to destroy the fragile balance between both worlds, and it’s a task he fulfils with pride because it was given to him by Rex Lapis, the god who saved him from his former master –

- an evil deity who had abused and used him and forced him to commit atrocities that still haunt him to this day; he never wanted to kill, he never wanted to have to take away someone’s dreams but he was helpless to resist and in the end he stained his hands with so much more blood than he ever wanted to - taking his trauma and the way he talks about it and labelling it as ‘edgy’ is plain disregarding towards the pain he went through in his early years when his innocence was stolen from him and then utterly destroyed until Rex Lapis saved him and gave him his life back, a duty he can be proud of and the chance to regain a bit of his former gentleness because that’s who he is deep inside: a kind and gentle soul that never wants to hurt anyone

- not to mention the trauma he experienced by having to watch the only family he ever had, the other Yakshas, perish one after another – whether it was because they were consumed by the darkness they fought and killed one another or because they died in battle – he wasn’t able to save any of them and while it’s never talked about in-game lore I doubt that their deaths didn’t leave a mark on him that lasts till today. To be heralded as the last Yaksha is surely not a title that Xiao is proud or happy about. - to get to his character trait of him usually keeping his sentences curt and to the point (like his good morning line ‘’We're wasting time. Let's go.’’) and him growling when he thinks about his sorrowful past that probably made people label him as edgy – does it really surprise anyone that he doesn’t talk like humans from Teyvat talk when he’s a) not human and b) has spent almost all of his life in solitude? - which would obviously lead to him being extremely used to dealing with emotions and humans; despite having such a kind and selfless heart (more to that later) but he’s just not used to conversing with humans - mainly because Adepti need to keep their distance from humans lest their adeptal energy will harm them - when Xiao kept his distance from humans all these years, it was for their own good (something he says during the first meeting with the traveller and something I think he firmly believes in because past encounters with humans never went well for them and again, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone and certainly not humans) - and while he’s gotten used to living in solitude I don’t think he actually enjoys having to live like this – he’s incredibly lonely and suffers from it - and just like every living being he longs to have someone to talk to and who understands him, even appreciates him although this is something he wouldn’t dare to wish for because it’s something that can’t be fulfilled (Lumine: sikes you thought you can stay alone forever, yeah too bad for you I’m here for you now) - it was stated in the article about Xiao and his creation process how curious he is about the human world despite trying to hide it from others (and himself too because longing for something you can’t have or take part in hurts like hell and god knows he’s experienced enough in his life) - but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t yearn to experience those feelings of warmth and love that most humans as well - and when I say love I don’t necessarily mean romantic love although I don’t count it impossible for him (though it would take a long time for him to break down his own walls and find the courage to love and be hurt, and I think abrupt love confessions would frighten him because he simply never experienced it before – a life of bloodshed and battle certainly don’t help with understanding his own or other hearts) - no, what I mean are the different kinds of love he’s seen humans share with each other – a mother’s love when she puts her child to bed with a goodnight kiss, a friend’s platonic love when they hug their friend who’s sad or simply out of joy – it’s all things he never got to experience for himself but secretly longs to experience as well (fight me on that because I’ll die on that hill) - and this also leads to me firmly believing that he doesn’t hate humans no matter how often he ‘mocks’ traditions and customs – it’s mainly to hide his own curiosity and longing to join them knowing that he doesn’t belong with humans. But he certainly doesn’t hate them no matter his words because you can’t guard and protect someone without loving and caring for them. If he truly despised humans he would have never risked his life and soul for as long as he has to protect them. - and he knows that he will never receive any gratitude for the suffering he endures, nor that anyone will pray to him, or even pray for him to come home from battle safely – all he has left by now is himself and his duty he proudly continues to fulfil to honour his fallen comrades and his contract with Zhongli – and yet he keeps fighting such a thankless and seemingly endless battle without any complaints or lamenting his cruel fate; if that isn’t kindness then I really don’t know anymore - not to mention that if he truly was an ‘edgelord’ he’d be lamenting his cruel fate or curse at everything for forcing him to live such a life devoid of any warmth and joy – but he doesn’t. Because no one survives thousands of years with a heart full of hatred and no one understands that better than him who has fought against the lingering wrath and hatred of fallen gods. - and while Xiao himself doesn’t believe that he is kind (after all both his hands and soul are stained by blood, he’s nothing more but a weapon or so he would say if someone told him he’s kind) it’s his selfless and devoted nature and his love for the simple things in life – a nice dish of Almond Tofu, flowers, the soft tunes of a flute - that make him such a gentle soul – he just doesn’t realize nor acknowledges that part of himself - so if someone loves him they have to love all the cracks in his soul and try to pour their light into them, be patient with him because it will take him a very long time to get used to all these feelings, to the reassurance that he is loved and also deserves to be loved, after all this is so foreign to him and very likely to frighten him but in return he will love unconditionally and be forever loyal as he is loyal to the land he continues to protect

...and what more could anyone ask for, right?

#xiao #genshin xiao #character analysis #uh it's just my usual brainrot #please don't mind me #i'm a clown #genshin impact

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holykillercake · 3 years

Text

Heavenly Demons

paring: Doflamingo x Reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: How far down would you go to rise with the person who makes your heart beat stronger?

highlight: ¨Haste is the enemy of perfection, Doffy. We shall have all the time in the world.¨

warnings: implied smut, Doffy himself is already a warning, right?

notes: Hey guys! So, I have read a lot of stories where the main character contrasts with Doffy, but I wanted to write one where the reader kinda shares his ideologies. I really hope you like it!! <3

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the salty fresh air cooled your body down. The waves crashed violently, and thunderings cut across the skies, shouting to all eight seas to prepare themselves. You were coming for the throne. You were coming for the golden seat above the great serpent soaked in blood.

Large hands caressed your belly, fingers flirting with the soft skin of your breasts. You felt Doflamingo's naked and burning skin brush against your back, salty splashes of seawater blending with the salt of your sweat bodies.

¨Do you remember what you told me that day?¨ his voice was low and deep, masking the ferocity of a roaring predator.

¨Every word.¨

¨Can you repeat it?¨ you smirked, words already engraved on the tip of your sharp tongue.

He gazed at the ocean with thirst, recollecting all the sacrifices he made, all the breaths he took and raised a glass for all the blood he was yet to shed.

¨One day, you will rule them all. You will stand above their fallen bodies and step on them as they lick the floor you walk on.¨ His grip tightened on your waist, nails slightly craving into your skin.

¨I´m ready.¨

¨You have always been, Doffy.¨

¨Y/N.¨ he called you after a moment of silence.

¨Hm?¨ You hummed in response.

The man behind you struggled, brain fighting the words from coming out of his mouth. He pulled you away from the window, lifting you up while your legs wrapped around his hips. The ship rocked aggressively, rolls of maps and unlit candles rolling across the tapestry.

Doflamingo pressed you against the wall, tongue gliding furiously with yours. You felt his body growing stiff again, moans masked as grunts being muffled by your intoxicating kiss.

Whines came out with each heavy breath, your chest rising and falling when he finally parted the kiss, a single strand of saliva connecting both sinful lips.

You took that moment to look him in the eyes. This time, instead of the glasses adorning his beautiful features, the flashes of lightning from the storm illuminated what he was constantly trying to hide.

The eyes of a monster. A monster for whom you would kill, for whom you would slaughter. The eyes of the man for whom you descended from the Holy Land and got your hands dirty to help him rise above the so-called Gods.

You remembered your words as a child.

¨Those are not the true Gods.¨ he spoke in your ear.

Shivers ran down your spine, and your core twisted when you felt the tip of his manhood touch your sensitive and sore skin.

¨We are the true Gods.¨ a deafening thunder echoed through the structures of the Numancia Flamingo the moment he slipped inside you, covering your cries of lust and pleasure.

<~>

It was difficult to keep up with the man you followed. After all, he was tall and had incredibly long legs. At no time did he help you when you tripped over a piece of garbage and fell or when your legs gave up on exhaustion. On the contrary, he just kept walking.

¨May I ask for your name?¨

That's what came out of your mouth. You knew that shouting and imposing things would not work, not here. This was the territory of humans, and you would have to deal with it if you wanted to get to the boy.

¨May I ask...¨ he mocked you.

Your small hands, balled into fists, clenched while you snorted with hatred.

¨Calm down, brat. It´s over there.¨

Standing on the toes of your expensive shoes, you saw a well-known figure among sheds and piles of metal, with blond hair and dark glasses.

¨DOFFY!¨

¨Y/N!?¨ he sounded surprised to see you in such a filthy place.

Your steps hurried to get to him, ignoring the other people on the scene who looked at you with suspicion.

The ruffles of the skirt were now dirty from the trip, and your hair, always so neat, flew loose with the breeze and even got entangled.

¨What are you doing here?¨

¨Just making sure you got home safe.¨

¨Nyeh, nyeh, who is this, Doffy?¨ a disgusting old man with snot running down his nose asked.

¨She is the girl I told you about. She helped me escape.¨

¨Do not come closer!¨ you exclaimed to the man when he turned to you. The gooey thing swaying with every movement.

Doffy invited you into what he called home and offered you a shabby wooden stool so you could rest from the trip.

Even so young to understand the meaning of love, your heart ached when you saw the precarious situation in which he found himself. No, he was much greater than that.

Your families were neighbors in the Holy Land, so you constantly spent your free afternoons in the company of the Donquixote brothers. It fascinated you how different they were, like two opposite poles of a globe.

At some point, you noticed Rosinante's absence and assumed he had died like their parents. He too was not like you. He would never last.

¨What will you do? You can not accept this, Doffy.¨ you walked over to the boy in front of a window, eyes locked on the piles of scrap metal.

¨I know, Y/N. I am just thinking.¨ He hesitated to ask for your help, even though he knew how much more clever you could be.

The others just watched the interaction between the two children, the boy chosen by the heavens and the girl who spoke to him as an equal.

¨Claim what is yours, Doffy.¨

¨I tried.¨ his fingertips turned white from squeezing the window sill ¨I served my father´s head in a tray for them to feast, but-¨

¨That is not what I meant.¨ He searched your eyes for the first time, knowing that you were planning something. ¨You are a rightful king, the real deity, not them. Those are not the true Gods, Doffy. We are the true Gods.¨

The slimy man got up from the pest-infested couch, squinting at you. The brilliant idea he hadn't had before coming out of your mouth like a prophecy.

¨Dressrosa, the World Nobles, from the depts of the ocean to the six moons... one day, you will rule them all. You will stand above their fallen bodies and step on them as they lick the floor you walk on.¨

Electricity ran through your bodies, and tears of excitement filled your eyes.

¨Nyeh, your name is Y/N, right? ¨ the miry man asked, keeping a respectful distance from you. His voice annoyed you just as much. ¨It looks like you have a plan, behehehe. Tell us more about it.¨

You looked at him with contempt and mistrust.

¨It´s ok, Y/N. They are my family now.¨

That day you shared the plan that would shape the course of the Donquixote Pirates' operations, and everyone listened in silence, bewildered by the strategic mind of such a young child.

¨I will be your eyes and ears up there.¨

¨I´ll be quick, Y/N. I promise.¨ You shook your head.

¨Haste is the enemy of perfection, Doffy. We shall have all the time in the world.¨

That same night you returned to wealth and abundance, but your heart remained between the scraps and the boy, the Heavenly Yaksha.

For the next two decades, you focused on studies, following like a mantra the striking appearances of the Donquixote Pirates in the newspapers.

The World Nobles feared Doflamingo for his knowledge regarding matters that should be kept secret. Secrets you provided, tearing down the wall of the puny Gods, brick per brick.

Over time, your periodic visits to the world below the Red Line have become more intimate, going from an affectionate gesture to a dinner for two and the satiation of carnal desires.

But maybe there was love. Among the sins and horrors committed, there was a lull after a nightmare. When your fingers ran through his blond hair, and he took off his glasses before pulling you to his chest.

When you laughed at childhood memories or projected a future together.

Maybe it was love. But how could two beasts like you know for sure?

Perhaps it was not necessary to know the real meaning. When the sun came up again, you would be there together, ready to conquer, rule, and destroy.

When traitors raised their weapons and the weak perished, they would see the true face of God. Majestic and merciless.

When the weak rulers gave in to pressure, you would take the dirty hands of hopeless people and raise them up. And they would kiss the ground where you walked, freely and willingly.

¨Do you like our new home?¨ he asked, bringing you inside the feathery pink coat.

You stood in front of the window, watching the country over which you would make prosperity reign.

¨It´s amazing, Doffy.¨

¨Are you staying for good now?¨

A smile grew on your lips ¨I am, Doffy. I´m staying for good.¨

His laughter filled the room. He took your hand and guided you to the armchair, where you sat on his lap, already opening the zipper of your dress.

¨Twenty years, Y/N...¨ he put a lock of hair behind your ear ¨I have waited for twenty years, and now that we accomplished this, I am not letting you go again.¨

You leaned slowly and torturously, flirting with his mouth, teasing him. You wanted to feel each moment, each touch, and each spasm making your body squirm with pleasure.

¨We have all the time in the world...¨ you whispered, placing a kiss on his lips ¨I want to make this very slow and very pleasurable.¨

This time when the sun comes up, you would not have to leave.

He laughed again, wrapping his hand in your hair and pulling enough to make a moan escape your mouth.

¨I can´t promise slow...¨ his voice was low in your ear, weakening your entire body ¨but I will give you pleasure.¨

The trail of kisses on your neck made your guts twist, and your hips move against him, seeking relief.

¨I´m gonna take you right here and right now...¨ he pulled your hair a little harder ¨and I´m gonna make you my Queen.¨

Hey @vemuabhi! Here I go again hahaha

#one piece doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #op doflamingo #doffy #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote family #dressrosa #world nobles #celestial dragons #mary geoise #seven warlords #warlords of the sea #shichibukai #king #red line #numancia flamingo #trebol #diamante

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laur-rants · 3 years

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Schrodinger’s Game Theory: The Fate of Daud

Ever come up with a theory, and then halfway through creating it, the evidence changes and so you’re stuck with a lot of well-put-together ideas but nowhere to go with it?

Anyway, I did that with Daud. Lol.

I just rediscovered a whole ass rant in my drafts (which is now in the link above for private viewing and judgement PLS read it, if you’re missing some context to this post) that I clearly spent a lot of time and energy on, where I came to the conclusion that Daud in Death of the Outsider is actually a imposter/doppelganger, and it was because of the writing from the book contrasted the writing in DotO so poorly, that I came to believe this. I was like, VERY convinced prior to Billie’s book coming out that this was, in fact, a viable game theory. !00%. There was a chance that out there, somewhere, Daud was still stuck in his mind, and needed someone to come rescue him. Stranger things have happened to explain characters coming back from the dead in a video game, okay?

Somewhere along the line, though, it stopped being game theory and was more like, a fan idea. I had collected enough evidence to come to the conclusion that my theory wasn’t sound. That, and Billie’s book released, and there’s no way I could argue that. Instead, imposter!Daud moved to Fan Theory, something I could fictionally, write about, put into an AU.

But... Just because it’s probably not true in the scheme of the game doesn’t stop me from thinking about it, from wanting to talk and share those ideas with others. Even if, at the end of the day, they hold no water and it wouldn't matter because, well. If Billie’s book is to be considered post-DotO canon, then there’s no reason to believe my theory would hold weight. It wouldnt matter, because Daud well, he was left for dead either way. Nobody was coming to rescue him. I’m sure there’s plenty of questions people have in response to this, the most chief one being

“If its not Daud how is he in the Void talking to the Outsider and Billie at the end of DotO??”

And my usual response is: the end of Return of Daud saw Daud becoming trapped within his own mind, through a trap laid by witches from the very beginning of the book. That meant, even if his physical body was still, well, physical, he was trapped inside his mind.

I proposed that out of survival, well, a sliver of his mind would hole itself up in the Void, maybe even be stuck there (this is not so uncommon as it appears; think of what happened to Jessamine in the Heart). Once the spell on his mind and the Outsider were gone, the sliver could return back to his mind. And he’d still be alive.

From a gamer perspective, looking at the mechanics of the game, and everything else, it makes sense. I’m sure some people would say this theory would ‘cheapen Daud’s death’ and I would refute that by simply saying ‘all of DotO cheapened Daud’s death, and despite being a playable character in the franchise he dies unceremoniously off screen and we just take Billie’s word for his death to heart.’ Nothing cheapens a death faster in my head than ‘time to renege on this character’s entire past arch and have him die off-screen.’ His death was ruined far before they went into the Void. If anything, this would give Daud a change to explain himself.

But I digress. I actually did do a stupid amount of research on this. And what it all really boils down to is that there was bad writing involved in DotO when it came to timeline consistency and quality checkers not checking for that, + the book having been rewritten like, twice, to keep up with what Arkane was changing in DotO in real time.

That’s post marked 9/25/18. I’ve had this theory sitting around for a long time. I enjoyed it. I find it compelling. But ultimately, it was me trying to save Daud, in my mind. Would it be cool for the witches to have stolen Daud, replaced him with a dummy body Eyeless/Envisioned, given that dummy body his memories, and then, when it had outlived it’s usefulness of sending Billie astray, the magic broke and it perished? Hell yeah it would have been cool. and honestly, according to the books, it was a viable option! They could do all those things. You can’t tell me that

Billie can steal faces,

Emily can create copies and

They witches had access to a gemstone that can make prisoners of their own mind/see the thoughts of others,

and NOT immediately think that they’d try and replicate one of the strongest Marked to ever live. The one that TRAPPED DELILAH, no less. And because the witches messed with Daud’s dreams at the beginning of the book (it’s subtle, but its there, its like, you see it on the reread sort of thing), that’s the whole reason he thinks the Outsider is supposed to die, so of course the double would fervently believe the singular obsession that brought Daud into a trap in the first place...

I’m digressing again. Anyway.

What does this mean for Dear old Daud?

It means Daud canonically died, and it was shitty and poorly written and I’ll be salty about that until the day I die because some schmuck on twitter wrote one singular essay and Harvey Smith decided ‘you. you’re the one who needs to write this story’ and then we got Corvosider fanfic in a Dishonored game and I wanted to die. It doesn’t help that this writer was notoriously pretentious and shit-stirring in the fandom at-large BEFORE their hiring-- anyway, this isn’t a salt piece on that. I AM SALTY ABOUT IT, but I’m not the person to discuss it at length. Just know that that’s why some of the narrative decisions in DotO are so out of fucking whack, and we all have to deal with it.

MOVING ON....

There is still... a very slim chance. To save Daud.

Realistically speaking, this chance will never occur. It’s clear and obvious that Arkane has no plans on returning to the Dishonored universe, so despite all these loose ends that Arkane left and all these pieces that need to be picked up and all this lore that’s been reneged on, there’s really not much of a chance that we’ll see, say, Billie, return in a game that is specifically designed to save the timelines. Which, honestly, would be fucking baller. I want a game where I play as Billie, where the shattered timespace of Dunwall is saved by her capable hand, and Emily is free to rule for decades without having to fear that the Isles will fall into the Void like it’s Deimos falling into Hell in DOOM. We KNOW the timelines are saved because we KNOW that Emily has a long and Just (or unjust, if you went high chaos lol) Rule over the kingdom. That can’t happen if, just three years down the line, Billy is running all over the place trying to make sure time doesn’t break at the seams.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Because of how Daud meets Billie in RoD, we know that a Billie three years into the future (’YOUR future,’ she tells him) is trying to save his life. There are other timelines she’s saved already, for sure. Including saving Daud in the past, saving Corvo and Emily in the past, saving Granny Rags in the past -- basically, saving all the Marked from coming to an untimely end. And then, after all that, she goes back in time and tries to save Daud, tries to save him from being poisoned by witch magic and falling into a trap that is triggered when he touches her Future version of the Twin-bladed Knife. She goes through a sort of Groundhog Day scenario, where she confesses that she’s tried hundreds of times to save him, and she couldn’t save that Daud.

But why show us Billie failing to save Daud, if she was destined for failure? Because, eventually, she must succeed.

And therein lies Daud’s (potential) salvation. Is it realizing the other Daud is an imposter? Well... let’s think of it this way. Is the Billie who regained her arm and eye an ‘imposter’ where the ‘real’ Billie is in a timeline where she lost those body parts? Is the Aramis Stilton who went mad in the basement of his mansion the imposter? Or is it the one that Emily saved and was able to keep lucid? These people aren’t ‘imposters’ to their timelines, but they kind of are to the timelines that are saved. Which means DotO could be an entirely separate ‘timeline’, one that we manage to play through and see the ending of. But the ‘true timeline’ may never be known. But at least, we know it happens, and we have Billie to thank for that.

FIN.

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lesbiansforboromir · 3 years

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Impossible LotR Quiz Answer sheet with explanations!

As an addendum, since people have been doing the quiz I’ve seen a few mistypes and awkwardnesses that are my own fault so I’ve corrected them. This means some people got a higher score than was shown, know that when I looked over your answers I saw your actually right answers and fully appreciated them! It’s good to not that the ‘fill in the blanks’ questions will not take two words in one space, so I’ve had to get creative with how I apply two named folk like Mardil Voronwe, or people who have numbers like Hurin I.

I would also like to say, to everyone talking about how they’ve never read the Silmarillion, this quiz is very purposefully almost entirely based outside of the Silmarillion. This is Appendices stuff! Indeed there is only 1 question even tangentally related to elves in here, this is by design.

@magaramach, @brynnmclean and @apojiiislands asked to be tagged in this! Answers under the cut.

Q2. Who was Dora Baggins in relation to Bilbo Baggins? - Second cousin on his father's side Dora Baggins is a very elderly woman who was the daughter of Bilbo’s father’s brother. She likes writing people a lot of unsolicited advice! THIS WAS WRONG AND SAID FIRST COUSIN FOR SO LONG AND I AM DEEPLY SORRY FOR IT.

Q3. How many pairs of biological twins are mentioned in the whole of Arda's timeline and what races do they belong too? - 2 for men, 1 for elves and 3 for half-elves Fastred and Folcred, Haleth and Haldar (men) Amrod and Amras (elves) Elured and Elurin, Elrond and Elros, Elladan and Elrohir (half-elves) Now, admittedly Elladan and Elrohir are never actually described as twins. However they appear completely identical and have the same birth date, so it is assumed.

Q4. Baldor is who the skeleton scratching at the door used to be. When Aragorn and co pass through the paths of the dead they find a skeleton clawing at a door to the mountain. It is finely dressed and described as mighty and was later essentially confirmed to be Baldor, the eldest son of King Brego of Rohan, also called Baldor the hapless, who foolishly wandered into the paths of the dead on, apparently, a dare. (the answer to this was originally Brego because of a foolish typo from me, many apologies!)

Q5. When was the Ondonóre Nómesseron Minaþurie written? - During Meneldil's reign. “Enquiry into the Place-names of Gondor” was a text written by settled numenoreans about their new kingdom during Meneldil’s reign, who was the first sole King of Gondor after both Anarion (his father) and Isildur had perished.

Q6. Farmer Maggot's particular friend was Tom Bombadil It is stated that Farmer Maggot sometimes peacefully passes through the Old Forest to go and meet Tom Bombadil, who very much enjoys his company. However! Those who answered Merry or Pippin still deserve excellent recognition, Farmer Maggot was indeed fond of Pippin and respected Merry greatly.

Q7. What was the office of the Steward originally created to do? - Keep the Tradition of Isildur When Romendacil I went to war in the east, he realised that if he died then the secret of the Tradition of Isildur would die with him. Hence he wrote it down in a sealed scoll and gave it to a trusted confidante, to be given to his heir if he should perish. This tradition was maintained by further kings and those trusted confidantes became the Stewards of Gondor. This, admittedly, is a more suggested progression than explicit, but it’s a Impossible evil quiz so :) Q8. What was the 'Tradition of Isildur'? - Remember where Elendil was buried. Elendil had been secretly entombed in Calenardhon, supposedly the midpoint between Gondor and Arnor. This was a hallowed space for only Kings at first, but in later years when the Stewards came to rule Gondor they also were permitted the secret. Cirion had the remains moved when Calenardhon was gifted to the Eotheod to eventually become a part of the Kingdom of Rohan.

Q9. At the time of Pelargir's founding, is the world flat or round? - Flat. Pelargir was founded as a ‘Faithful Numenorean’ haven on the river Anduin. Therefore it was built before Numenor’s destruction in the Akallabeth, the reason for which being that Eru turned the world from flat to round.

Q10. Which of these monarchs were indolent and had no interest in ruling? - King Atanatar I - King Narmacil I - Tar-Vanimelde King Atanatar I ruled during Gondor’s richest generation and seemed to believe that meant he didn’t need to put any work in. Narmacil I, his son, didn’t want to put any work in, but he at least assigned his nephew, Minalcar, as ‘Karma-Kundo’ or regent during his reign. So he at least did something to keep the country going. Tar-Vanimelde had no interest in ruling and allowed her husband to do most of the governence. This backfired when she died and he organised a coup against his son to hold power.

Q11. When looking back on the Ship-Kings of Gondor, King Tarannon Falastur began the invasion of Harad and expanded Gondor's borders, King Earnil-I finally took Umbar but died at sea shortly afterwards, King Ciryandil spent most of his reign trying to defend Umbar and died in it's seige and King Hyarmendacil defended Umbar against seiges for 35 years before making war upon all Harad and claiming Harondor as a province of Gondor, ending the line of the Ship Kings.

Q12. What happened during the reign of King Romendacil II? - I don't know! Nothing? Yes I know this is particularly evil of me but Romendacil II was originally called Minalcar, yes the same Minalcar who became REGENT of Gondor due to Narmacil’s indolent nature. Minalcar indeed did everything else listed as answers to this question, but none of them happened during his reign as king. Indeed, his reign was said to be peaceful and we have no real information on it, so technically saying we don’t know, and suggesting nothing happened, is actually the most correct answer :)

Q13. Who succeeded Tar-Telperien of Numenor? - Her nephew, Minastir Tar-Telperien was a lesbian Queen of Numenor who never married and never wanted too and did an excellent job and I love her. Her nephew built a tower to mope in about how much he wanted to be an elf. They are not the same. Absolutely terrified about what Amazon could do to her.

Q14. Whilst his brethren, the nazgul, were attacking the Prancing Pony, The Witch-King was waiting in the Barrow Downs and probably had a really nice time. Not much to this! Witch King was chilling with the Barrow Wights.

Q15. Which of these characters are described as 'beautiful' at least once in the Lord of the Rings? - Galadriel, Denethor, Eowyn, Frodo, Elanor, Celeborn, Boromir Yes, Arwen is never described as beautiful, but Denethor is :)

Q16. We all love Boromir II, select the similarities he and Boromir I did NOT share. - Renowned relationship with the Rohirrim. - Destroyed the Bridge of Osgiliath - Feared by the Witch King - Retook Ithilien. - Had a brother. In case you’re wondering, yes, I love both Boromirs. But this question is a fun highlight of how many similarities Boromir II has with his namesake. These are the only things they didn’t both do. Although! Boromir I’s son was Cirion who allied with the Eotheod and created Rohan in the first place, the Uruk-Hai destroyed the Bridge of Osgiliath in Boromir I’s lifetime, Boromir II was PROBABLY feared by the witch-king we just don’t know, Boromir II held Ithilien and Boromir I had two elder sisters like Denethor II did.

Q17. Hey, did you know that, from Boromir I's war with the Uruk-Hai of the Morgul Vale, Gondor didn't know peace until Sauron's death on the 25th of March, 3019? Hah hah! How gut wrenching is that? About how long do you think it has been since Gondor knew peace then? Hey wait does that mean Boromir I's valiant victory that came at a personal sacrifice was the beginning of Gondor's wars and then Boromir II's valiant sacrifice was the end- oh god... oh fuck - 550 years To everyone who answered the crossed out answer,,, you’re correct in my heart. You get bonus points. Also hey! What the fuck :)

Q18. Who was Borondir? - The rider sent to find Eorl who made it to him after starving himself for two days but who then rode to the Celebrant with Eorl anyway and died in that battle. Literally couldn’t love this fellow more. Big Hirgon energy. A hero of Gondor for time immemorial.

Q19. The Ruling Stewards, from first to last (with their numbers typed as so Turin-I Hurin-II etc), were as follows; Mardil ; Eradan ; Herion ; Belegorn ; Hurin-I ; Turin-I ; Hador ; Barahir ; Dior ; Denethor-I ; Boromir-I ; Cirion ; Hallas ; Hurin-II ; Belecthor-I ; Orodreth ; Ecthelion-I ; Egalmoth ; Beren ; Beregond ; Belecthor-II ; Thorondir ; Turin-II ; Turgon ; Ecthelion-II ; Denethor-II ; and for like two seconds ; Faramir ; Alrighty, we had a bit of a fight in my discord about this but eventually I did relent in agreement that Faramir IS... very briefly... legally considered a RULING Steward. Ruling Stewards being Stewards that ruled a Kingless Gondor. But! With Aragorn RIGHT THERE is just seemed very redundant. Still! I’ll allow the pedant to win out, ten minutes is still a Ruling Steward. ALSO! I decided that having an extra box for the ‘voronwe’ part of mardil voronwe was just mean as it set everyone’s answers off kilter, so I removed that. ALSO for all of those calling me a bastard for adding this question, @illegalstargender was the one who requested it! I wasn’t going too!

Q20. The Stewards, despite ruling through very tumultuous and violent periods, were often known for boring things (because they simply ruled better than the Kings did, I said what I said) But what boring thing was Steward Turin I remembered for? - Being the only monarch of Gondor that married twice This skeezy bastard really did marry a second time during his OLD age just to father a son. I can only imagine what a dreadful cultural and social effect this had on this prude country. It’s so unnecessary! He had daughters, many of them! One of them certainly had a son before he did. He was just being a controlling arse, down with Turin I!!!!

#my quiz

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chibi-beaver · 3 years

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A Romantic Night in

Rating: Mature/Explicit (It straddles the line a bit)

Words: 3.7K

Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Relationships: Hunter/Reader, Hunter & Omega

Characters: Hunter, Omega, You

Tags: Domestic fluff, Romance, Porn with plot (but like it's not terribly explicit most of the time), no y/n, little to no angst, FLUFF, female reader, established relationship, movie night, modern AU

Summary: You and your boyfriend Hunter have a fun night in after picking up Omega from soccer practice

(I don't usually write smut but it kinda just happened and I shocked myself with it lol)

Fic under the cut

You and Hunter were preparing your shopping list for the grocery store, going through the cupboards, seeing what was running low.

"I have an idea!" Hunter said.

"What is it?" You ask.

"You know you've wanted to have another date night, but we also have Omega tonight?"

"Yea" you respond. Omega was shared between Hunter and his brothers. She typically lives with Hunter but the others also get her throughout the week. She just spent Friday and Saturday with Tech and Wrecker, who recently moved out into their own apartment. You had a feeling that Tech thought the house was too full now that you were living there too. She also spent some time with Crosshair on Wednesday but his schedule was quite busy so she only spent time with him whenever he was not on a business trip.

"We should have a fun night in, we make some food, watch movies with Omega until she gets tired, and then after she goes to sleep, we can have our own movie date," Hunter said, as he hugged you from behind.

"That sounds like a great idea!" You say, turning your head to place a kiss on his cheek.

"We'll go pick up some stuff to make our favourite nachos, and some popcorn for Omega along with the rest of our groceries, then pick her up from soccer practice at 6:30, get her some dinner, and then we change into our PJs and watch movies," Hunter said. An ear-to-ear grin formed on his face as he described the plan. You smiled back as you felt some heat enter your cheeks. You then check your watch.

"Let's head out then, seeing as it's 5:30 and it takes us 20 minutes to get to the grocery store," you say.

"Yea, we should," Hunter said as he got the grocery note and the keys.

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

You got into the passenger seat while Hunter took the wheel. You plugged your phone into the AUX and started to play your favourite music.

"I didn't expect all this traffic at 5:30 on a Sunday night," Hunter remarked.

"Me neither," you said as you looked out the front window at all the cars.

"BUDDY! COME ON!" Hunter frustratedly said at the slow driver in front of him.

"Who does 45 kilometers an hour in a 70 zone?!" Hunter said.

"That guy apparently," you said as Hunter pulled into the other lane and passed him.

The rest of the drive to the store was relatively peaceful as Hunter's road frustration faded. He found a place to park and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Happy to be off the main road?" you asked.

"Yes! I hate slow and incompetent drivers," Hunter said as he turned off the car. The two of you got out, took your bags, and went into the store.

"What's on our list?" you ask as Hunter gets a cart.

"We need chicken, milk, popcorn, peppers, some fruit, yogurt, cheese, salsa, sour cream, and tortilla chips," Hunter said, reading off the note.

"Sounds like a plan," you say as Hunter walks closely behind you, pushing the cart as you start looking for the various items. You start in the produce section where you get your peppers and some of Omega's favourite fruits. She was in a strawberry phase lately so you made sure you picked up strawberries.

"We need to get her something new too," Hunter said.

You noticed some blackberries nearby.

"Has she tried blackberries?" you ask, gesturing towards the half-pint of blackberries that are on sale.

"I don't think," Hunter said as he saw them too.

"Let's get them," you said.

"Ok," Hunter said as he let you put it into the cart.

You then proceed into the aisle with chips in it.

"One-stop shop it seems," you remark as you see chips, popcorn, and salsa in the same aisle.

"Mild or medium?" Hunter asks as he looks at the salsas.

"Medium, I need a little kick damn it," you say.

Hunter chuckles. "Remember the last time we had medium salsa?" he asks, clearly teasing you.

"No, nothing out of the ordinary happened," you insisted.

"Pretty sure last time you were begging for milk because it was too spicy," Hunter said as he stepped closer to you.

You knew what he was referring to but you decided to take it in an entirely different direction.

"Are you referring to the outcome of our last movie date?" you ask with a smug look on your face.

Hunter's cheeks turned bright red.

"Uh, well" Hunter said, not sure how to finish that sentence. You knew that was not the direction he was taking it. The last time you had medium salsa was a while before your last movie date with Hunter. You tried it for the first time and couldn't handle the spice. The outcome of your last movie date, however, was certainly not appropriate to discuss in a public setting such as aisle 1 of a grocery store.

"Don't tell me you're trying to make a sexual innuendo out of that," Hunter whispered.

You simply smirked and winked at him.

"Let's just say that two can play that game, cyar'ika," Hunter whispered as he put medium salsa into the cart and started to take the cart further down the aisle to get some popcorn. Your cheeks soon matched the colour of Hunter's. You can't help it but you also can't explain why when he says that word, you become putty in his hands. Especially after you learned what that word means. It did something to you, in a good way of course.

You catch up to him as he is looking at the prices of the popcorn.

"Should we buy the bigger package or the smaller one?" Hunter asked.

"The bigger one is obviously the better deal," you say.

"Yea but we don't use a lot of popcorn," Hunter said.

"It's not like popcorn is a perishable item though," you counter.

"True," Hunter says as he puts the bigger package into the cart.

Your next stop was the meat and dairy sections of the store. You pick up a package of fresh chicken breasts. It was bigger than what you needed for your nachos but you were going to use it for meal prep for the week. You tried to bring lunch from home as much as possible to work, and you were hoping to pass that way of thinking to Hunter too.

Once you got to the dairy section, you were disappointed to see that the yogurt you and Hunter like is not in stock.

"Damn," you say as you look at the empty shelf.

"You got that right," Hunter says.

"I guess we'll need to look somewhere else for it another time," you say.

"True, just not tonight," Hunter says while chuckling.

"Yea," you reply as you pick up the sour cream and Hunter picks up the milk.

"Last item, cheese," you say as you proceed further down the dairy section and find a block of cheddar cheese on sale.

"Let's get this checked in," Hunter says as you proceed to a self-checkout.

You get out of the store in record time. Bless those self-checkouts, you thought as you got into the car. The next stop was to pick up Omega from soccer practice.

The traffic seemed to calm down a bit while you were in the grocery store, with the main roads only about half as busy. It took no time to get to the field that Omega goes to for practice.

"Just in time," Hunter said as he looked at the clock in the car, 6:20. You got out of the car to join some of the other parents who had just gotten there to pick up their kids. You could tell that Hunter was feeling a bit anxious. All the other parents, you could tell were actually the parents of their kids while Hunter was in a different situation. He and his brothers took up the mantle of caring for Omega because their mother works so much and their dad died before she was born. It's gotten so bad that Hunter and his brothers were made her guardians and their mother only shows she's involved by sending Hunter, his brothers, and Omega money. While Hunter was quite a bit older than his sister, he wasn't quite old enough to be her dad without someone questioning his age when she was born. Hunter was 17 when she was born and she's 8 now.

"Hunter!" Omega called out after her practice ended.

"Hey kid," Hunter said as he collected her.

"How was practice?" he asked as the three of you went back to the car.

"It was good. I scored a goal today!"

"Really? That's awesome! Wanna get a happy meal to celebrate?" Hunter said.

"YES YES YES!" Omega said.

"Glad to hear it, let's get to McDonald's," Hunter said.

"Hi, welcome to McDonald's. What can I get for you?"

"Hi, can I get a McNugget happy meal," Hunter said into the drive-thru window.

"Yep, would you like the girl toy or the boy toy?"

"Which one do you want?" you whispered to Omega.

"Boy toy!" she said.

"She wants the boy toy," you relay to Hunter.

"Boy toy please," Hunter said.

"Great, your total is $5.51, drive through."

"You get to the first window.

"I can pay," you offer.

"No, I'm paying," Hunter insisted.

"You just paid for groceries, I can pay," you said but it was too late, Hunter had already tapped his card. Looking at you the entire time with a smug look on his face.

You rolled your eyes as he pulled up to the second window and got the food. Omega was elated to get her nuggets and fries and immediately started eating them.

"Mind giving Hunter a fry?" Hunter asked.

"I do mind," Omega said as she kept eating her fries. You laugh as she says this and she joins in.

"Wow thanks," Hunter said sarcastically before saying "it's a long walk home," referencing that he's driving the car. You knew he wasn't being serious based on his tone of voice. He was just playing around.

Omega had finished her meal by the time you three got back home.

"Make sure you bring your garbage in," Hunter reminded Omega as he turned off the car.

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

Once you got into the house, Omega got into the shower while you and Hunter changed into your pajamas. Hunter quickly changed into his favourite pajamas, a black t-shirt with dull red camo pajama pants while you sifted through your pajama only to put on a pair of white shorts and a bright red t-shirt that had a faded logo of something on it. Omega still wasn't done in the shower when you both changed so you went downstairs and started making the nachos.

Your nachos called for grilled chicken breast that was liberally seasoned, diced bell peppers (colour doesn't matter), onions, jalapenos, and of course, lots of cheese. You started the chicken and grated the cheese while the chicken cooked. Meanwhile Hunter prepped the veggies. Hunter stole a few shreds of cheese before you smacked them out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"That's for the nachos!" you replied.

"Party pooper," Hunter said with a pout.

"It's better melted, trust me," you said.

Once the chicken was just cooked, you got the sheet pan ready with parchment paper and made a layer of chips. You put a thin first layer of cheese before adding the chicken.

"You got the veggies ready?" you asked.

"Just about," Hunter said.

Hunter then added the prepped veggies before you added a much thicker layer of cheese on top before sticking it into the oven.

"I love cooking with you," Hunter said as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Me too, when you and your big appetite aren't stealing some of the ingredients," you joked.

"You clearly haven't seen Wrecker's appetite."

"Fair enough," you replied.

"You know you love me anyways," Hunter said.

"I do," you said as Hunter left a few kisses on your neck.

You giggled as you heard Omega come downstairs. You pulled away from one another immediately.

"You wanna watch some movies wiht us?" Hunter asked.

Omega nodded her head.

"You want some nachos with us or do you want some popcorn?" Hunter then asked.

"Popcorn!" she said.

You smiled. You thought the kid was so cute sometimes.

Hunter put a bag of popcorn into the microwave, entering the time it says on the bag.

"Wanna help pick out a movie?" You asked.

"Sure!" Omega replied as you and her went to the couch and turned on the TV. You let her pick which streaming service she wanted. Of course she picked the one that had the most kids movies. Omega had her own kid friendly profile on every service you were subscribed to. She picked the same movie she always picks.

You got up for a minute to check on the nachos.

"I bet you can't guess what movie we're watching," you say, teasingly.

"It's the one about the lions again, isn't it?"

"Yep," you said as the microwave beeped. The popcorn was ready.

"I'll bring the popcorn in, you watch the nachos?" you ask.

"Sounds good babe," Hunter said as you emptied the popcorn bag into Omega's favourite bowl. This bowl was white with red stripes all over it. You think it might have been a Christmas bowl at some point with the candy cane like aesthetic. You put the bowl on the coffee table, closer to Omega in order to make room for the sheet pan of nachos. Hunter brings in bowls of sour cream and salsa before going back into the kitchen. You hear the oven open, meaning that he's bringing in the nachos.

"Wanna put on the movie?" you ask Omega.

"Yep!" she says as she picks up the remote and puts on her favourite movie.

Hunter sets the sheet pan down and sits on the right edge of the couch and puts his arm around you. You looked over at Omega, who seemed to be enjoying the opening scenes of the movie while eating her popcorn. You left Hunter's arms to take some nachos.

"mmmm" you quietly said as you ate your first bite.

"You're quite the cook," you whisper.

"Will there be any kisses for the cook tonight?" he whispers back.

"Maybe later," you say with a wink.

About a half hour later, Hunter noticed that Omega was out of popcorn but was looking at the nachos.

"Want some nachos?" he whispers.

Omega tried the nachos but didn't seem to be a fan of the peppers and picked them off.

Once the nachos were all gone you snuggled into Hunter for the rest of the movie. He kept his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder every once in a while, presumably to keep his hand from falling asleep. You rested your head on his shoulder and he started to play with your hair.

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

The movie ended about 1 hour and 40 minutes later, after which Omega wanted to go to sleep.

Hunter went upstairs with Omega while you cleaned up all the food. You groaned at the thought of washing dishes so you put them in the dishwasher instead and turned it on.

"That's a job well done," you say before heading back into the living room.

Hunter soon proceeded downstairs.

"You put her to bed?" you asked.

"Yea, she was quite tired after soccer practice and a movie," Hunter said.

"I'd say, hopefully she gets enough sleep so that she won't be tired at school tomorrow,"

"I hope," Hunter says as he sits back on the couch with you.

You pick up the remote and went into your own profile. Scrolling through movies before you and Hunter finally agreed on one. It was an action movie about a superhero. As the movie starts, Hunter wraps his arm around you while you rest your head on his chest.

Hunter kisses your forehead. You look up at him and kiss him on the lips.

"Finally some kisses for the cook?" Hunter asks.

"You betcha!" You said as you raised your self to be closer to Hunter's level to make kissing him a bit easier. He kept his arm around you but lowered it slightly so that his hand was toying with the bottom of your shorts. You run your hand through his hair as he moves his hand under your shorts, massaging your butt.

"Someone's feeling a little frisky tonight," you remark as you adjust your positioning to be straddling him. He allows this, guiding your legs into position.

"How can I not be?" he says once you're in the desired position.

His cheeks are growing redder as his hands explore your body. He has one hand holding your waist while the other is making its way under your shirt. He plays with your tits for a few minutes before moving that hand to your waist too. He holds onto you as he plants some kisses to your neck. You softly moan as his lips hit all the sensitive spots that he knows gets you off. He leaves your neck as you coax him back up to kiss you on the lips again. Neither of you hold back with the kiss, exploring one another with your lips and tongues.

Once you pull away from one another, you remove your shirt. Hunter collects the shirt and throws it on the floor before taking off his own shirt, with your asssistance. Your legs start to hurt from being bent for a while. Hunter notices this.

"Wanna switch around?" he asks.

You nod your head as the two of you get up from the couch. You get back onto the couch, this time laying down while he finds his way between your legs, placing himself on top of you.

He kisses your lips for a bit longer before going lower. His lips move to your neck, then your chest. He stays there for a few minutes, kissing your tits and using his hands to get you off. You could tell that he liked pleasing you. Every time he tried something, he gauged your reaction and continued accordingly. You could also feel him getting harder against your pelvis.

He moved towards your stomach and soon reached your pelvis. He put his hand down your shorts and searched for your clit. You'd admit that he wasn't perfect at finding it but at least he tried. You removed his hand for a minute to take off your shorts and throw them to the floor as he did with your shirt. You soon tugged at his pants strings.

"Go ahead cyar'ika", he said.

"You know I like it when you call me that," you admit.

"That's why I do it," he whispered.

You take off his pants and put them on the floor with your own clothes. He moves your panties to the side and starts kissing you more. You moan softly as he does that, tyring not to be too loud as to not wake Omega. Instead you ran your hands through Hunter's hair, grabbing some of it.

Hunter chuckled before saying, "I see someone is enjoying themselves."

He puts your panties back where they're supposed to be once you decide to return the favour. You pull down his underwear and let your lips and tongue do the work with your hands being of assistance at times. He too softly moaned as your tongue hit a sensitive spot.

"How does that feel, cyar'ika?" you ask. Hunter chuckles and you soon realize that you kinda butchered the pronouciation.

"I butchered that, didn't I?"

"Yea but I like it, maybe I can teach you the proper pronounciation sometime," Hunter said.

"I'd like that," you said as you moved upwards from your current position, placing your head level with Hunter's.

"I'm sure you would, cyar'ika," Hunter said as he kissed you on the lips once again.

You then removed each other's underwear. Hunter teases you for a few moments before giving you what you want. You wrap your legs around him as he moves in and out of you.

However, the couch is nowhere near the size of your bed and as you move around to change positions, you fall off the couch. Hunter soon also falls and lands next to you, moving the coffee table slightly so that he didn't hit it.

"Hopefully Omega didn't hear that," you say as you lay next to Hunter.

"I don't think she did, she's sound asleep by now," Hunter said.

The two of you then laugh at the predicament.

"You wanna keep going?" you ask.

"Definitely," Hunter said as he sat himself up against the couch. You decide to straddle him once again. You position yourself onto him while he pulls some couch cushions down and places two under your knees. He places his hands on your ass as you control the pace this time. He raised his legs to make you and him more comfortable. You lean down to kiss him. He reciprocates the gesture, meeting you halfway. The kiss becomes pretty deep before he pulls away and out.

He soon finishes, with your assistance. You sit on the floor next to him afterward.

"It seems this movie night ended similarly to last movie night," you comment.

"I certainly don't mind this outcome," Hunter comments.

"Of course you don't you dog," you tease.

"Don't lie, you're just as naughty," Hunter teases back.

"We should probably clean this up and go to bed," you say.

"I couldn't agree more," he says as the two of you get up.

The curtains are closed so you don't mind not putting your clothes back on as you and Hunter repositon the coffee table and put the cushions back properly before heading upstairs and quickly heading to your room. The two of you then get into bed. You lay on your side and Hunter soon joins, spooning you. You turn your head around to face him for a moment. He leans in and kisses you softly.

"Good night cyar'ika".

"You're gonna keep calling me that now, aren't you?"

"Yep. Goodnight. I love you."

"Goodnight, I love you too," you say as you begin to drift off to sleep.

#ao3 #fanfic #the bad batch #bad batch #bad batch Hunter #bad batch Omega #Hunter/reader #no y/n #female reader #oneshot #smut #fluff #little angst #established couple #why tf did I write 3.7k words in 4 hours? Because I can #I didn't intend to write smut when I started this project but it kinda just happened #oops

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obsidianfr3sk · 4 years

Text

The puppet of the sad eyes

Hi! I haven’t posted a one short in a really long time, have I? Jaskdbsj well, um... I had promised this fic to my mom @healing-winston-pratt a while ago, and since yesterday everyone was talking about Winston, I said to myself “this is a good moment to post the fic, Obsi”. So... here I am:’)

Gosh, I feel akward. I swear I am not like this xjhksfdhds (who am I kiding, I’m just as akward as I seem) (reference not intended) It’s just that... like, there are another characters in the Renegades trilogy that hit me too close home, but Winston just hits me in a place that no other character has done before, and I wanted to write a little bit about him. I mean... not gonna lie, it’s a sad fic. But it has a happy ending! Angst-Fluff as they say in my village (?

Two quick notes: First, trigger warning for mentions of sexual abuse. It’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned, but anyways, I want to warn that if anyone feels uncortable reading it, don’t worry, keep scrolling. Second, I tried to tag everyone who reblogged the post made by @chikuyi-hiro (fuck, I can’t tag them), the one where we all claimed to be part of the Winston Pratt defense squad (? I’m sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged sjkdfhskjddsj Also, um... tell me if you would like to be tagged in future works of mine. If everything works out, I will be posting two one-shorts this week (one halloween themed and the other will be my contribution to Osby October) so... if you want to see them or other fics like that, I can tag you:’)

Well, Obsi, let them start reading, for fuck’s sake.

*le da el dibujito que hizo en el kinder* Hope you like it mom:’)

A03 link

Tag list: @nodrianbcyes @dawniebb @alecjamesartino @everyone-has-a-nightmare @plain-jane-mclain @honey-harper-official @itsalittlebitchilly @novas-egg-beater @sanktaleksander and all the “Winston Pratt Defense Squad” (?

From the first day she appeared in his life, Winston realized that Nova gave him the creeps. He first thought it was because she was Ace Anarchy's niece, but no.

What gave him the creeps was that Nova didn’t sleep.

Leroy had told him not to comment on it. Winston didn't know if it was because he thought he was going to hurt the girl's feelings or if it was because he didn't want Ace to listen to him and take it as a personal insult. Winston didn't care either way, because it wasn't like he was going to shout it from the rooftops.

It was just an observation.

Nova gave him the creeps.

Maybe it was because sleeping was the best part of the day for him. He could disappear for a few hours into a deep, dark void. Get rid of any emotion he was feeling. No one was going to be able to hurt him, and if they did, he would never know.

Because when Winston slept, it was as if he didn't exist. It wasn’t like he could do it very often anyway.

Not only because now they had to live in a filthy, smelly tunnel. It was also because Winston hadn’t slept well for a long time.

He was lying on a piss-smelling mat Leroy had found in the trash. “If you don't want it, you're more than welcome to sleep on the floor,” he told him when Winston dared to mention that thing reeked.

Winston didn't want to sleep on the floor. If Honey could sleep on pissed mats, so could he.

His back itched.

The mat not only had piss on it, but apparently, it also had fleas. How nice.

He began to scratch his back, feeling like a freaking orangutan. Hettie looked at him critically, dozing from the little wooden bed he had so lovingly made for him.

“What are you looking at, bitch?” he asked.

Hettie crossed his arms and shook his head. In the cathedral, we wouldn’t be like this.

He kept scratching himself. “Sorry to call you bitch,” he mumbled. “You put me in a bad mood.”

I don't like you looking at me. I don't like you to analyze my every move. I don't like you watching me when I'm changing. I do not like you.

Then someone opened the door without knocking. Winston was about to shout “INGRID, GET OUT OF MY TENT” when he realized it was not Ingrid.

It was Nova.

Winston froze with his hand on his back. “Um... can I help you?”

It might be the first time he'd spoken to her directly, after that awkward moment during her second day at the cathedral, when Winston had tried to make conversation with her, and Ace had told him to stay away from Nova.

“I don't want you to do the same to her,” he had told him sternly.

Winston clenched his fists and clasped them against his chest.

It would never have occurred to him to use his powers on her.

But it seemed that Nova had taken to heart not speaking to Winston because indeed she did not speak to him the entire time they were in the cathedral. Before the Day of Triumph.

(What a stupid name for a day by the way.)

“Can I borrow a toy?” she asked in a small voice.

A toy. Nova wanted a toy.

“Ah. Yes, yes, yes…” Winston said, pulling the covers off (which also smelled like piss). “I… I have a lot of toys. Look.”

And he went to the second tent. Winston had to cower slightly to be able to move around there. Honey was always nagging him for his bad posture and he always told her it was the tent’s fault.

The last time that had happened, they were eating frozen pizza in a corner they had assigned for those kinds of times when they sat down together to gobble up leftovers.

“You can't blame inanimate objects for the rest of your life,” Honey exclaimed, losing her temper (for the eighth time that day).

At that moment, Winston felt his blood run cold. For the first time in his entire stay with the Anarchists, he wondered if they knew.

Do you see the marks of his hands on my body? Do you see me tremble at the slightest touch?

Do you see me behind the makeup?

The fear left as fast as it came. Ingrid threw a napkin at him and asked him (very unkindly) to pass her another slice, and Leroy pointed out to Honey that all objects were inanimate.

No one had noticed.

What a relief.

Watch me try it, Honey. Watch me try.

In that other tent, Winston had a pink toy kitchen. He had found it a couple of weeks ago in a garbage dump, and he had brought it to the tunnels by himself, despite complaints from his fellow anarchists. He was left speechless when he realized it was full of toy food and even a couple of blue plates and blue teacups. He spent the entire afternoon organizing his new kitchen, and he was not put off by Ingrid's constant teasing.

He had loved it. And he was sure Nova was going to love it too.

“Look,” he said, “I have everything here—” he lifted a light orange basket “—This is the little basket where I put the fruits, and this—” he pointed to a green basket “—it is the one with the vegetables. I even have a mini pumpkin, it's very cute.” He opened a compartment below the sink. “Here are the non-perishable items. Do you know what non-perishable means? It's... Look, I have a can of sardines. It's fake, of course. Do not try to open it, it’d break. Oh, also in the oven—” he opened the oven door “—I have some cookies, an apple pie, some croissants… it’s that how is pronounced? Croissants . I don’t know, do you know? Is Artino a French or Italian surname?” Nova didn't reply. Had he offended her? Shit . “Nova?”

He turned and realized that Nova hadn't followed him. He hurried back to the first tent and found Nova very comfortable sitting on the floor, playing with Hettie.

The puppet looked at her with demonic eyes.

No. Not her.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Winston yelled. “He's mine!” With one hand he snatched Hettie from her and with the other he squeezed the toy croissant. Nova was startled. “Don't touch him again! DO NOT PUT YOUR LITTLE HANDS ON HIM AGAIN, NOVA, OR I DO NOT RESPOND! DID YOU HEAR ME?!”

Nova started pouting, and with that, Winston snapped back to reality.

He looked at Hettie, lazily dangling in his right hand, looking up at him with a smile. His little eyes weren't demonic.

They were sad. Like Nova’s were at that moment.

He was saying , “Why don't you let me play with other kids, Winston? You never play with me anymore.”

I never played with you. Not since he did.

“Sorry...” he mumbled to Nova while putting the croissant in his pocket. “Damn, I'm sorry. Don't tell your uncle I yelled at you, please.”

Nova frowned a little. She looked more embarrassed than upset. “I just wanted to see it. He’s nice.”

Do you think so?

“Yes, but ... he was asleep,” he excused himself, putting Hettie back on his bed. “He doesn't like it when people wake him up. But I see that for you that is not a problem, huh?”

Nova lowered her head. “Sorry…”

“Nah. Do not worry. We are fine. Are we fine?”

Nova nodded quickly. The good thing was she wasn't going to tell her uncle. Ace would kill him if he found out.

It wasn't like Winston cared much if he died or not though. It was just that he didn't want Ace to kill him. It would be a bit embarrassing considering his current condition.

“Would you like to see a puppet show?” Winston asked her.

“Puppets?” She turned to see the wooden bed. “Puppets like him?”

“His name is Hettie.”

“Hettie,” Nova repeated.

Winston found it adorable.

“No, other types of puppets,” he replied. “Puppets I make with this—” he waved his hands in front of her face “—with my little hands.”

Nova wrinkled her nose and gently pushed his hands away, letting out a loud, joyous laugh.

It was the first time she seemed happy since the first day he saw her. How nice it was to hear a child laugh.

Children generally yelled when they were near him.

“I do,” Nova replied enthusiastically. “How will you do it?”

Winston settled down beside her. “Okay, we'll need a flashlight first… do you have a flashlight?”

Nova thought for a few moments. “Yes!”

"Well, go for it!" he exclaimed pointing into the distance as if he were a pirate. "Run, Novie, run!"

And Nova laughed again.

Her laughter echoed through the tunnels and in Winston's head.

He stared at Hettie, listening to Nova's feet pacing through the tunnel in search of the flashlight she mentioned. At one point, Leroy's voice interrupted the sound of her footsteps and asked her what she was doing (in a slightly gentler tone than he used to address the rest of the world) ( very slightly gentler tone). Nova replied that Winston was going to do a puppet show for her.

“How?” Leroy asked.

Winston rolled his eyes. How else, Leroy?

“With my little hands,” Winston whispered to himself.

And Nova responded as if she had heard him.

“With his little hands!”

It was such a large flashlight that Nova had to carry it with both hands. Winston moved quickly to take it, but she drew back as if assuring him that she could carry it by herself.

These modern women.

Nova pressed the power button. It did not turn on. She hit the lantern a few times until finally, a yellowish light illuminated the tent like a torch. Winston blinked many times to get used to the sudden change of light.

“You’d be a great engineer,” he stammered. Nova looked at him as if she didn't understand. “Forget it. Aim it over… there,” and pointed to the area of the tent that had a wall behind it.

She obeyed. Winston crawled closer to the stage and wiped the sweat and dirt from his hands on the patched pants he wore.

That sounded so stupid. Stage. It wasn’t like he was going to act or something.

He shot Nova a look. She was expectant.

And smiling. Truly smiling.

That made Winston smile too.

He made the first shadow. “What animal is this?” he asked.

“A moose!”

Another giggle.

Another shadow. “And this one?”

“An elephant!”

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen! And that was a difficult one!”

More giggles. More shadows. “For two hundred dollars more, Novie Artino, what is this animal?”

“It is easy!” she assured. “A goat!”

“Geez! You’re wrong!” Winston exclaimed. “It is not a goat! It's... Cyanide! Because he’s old and stubborn!”

He thought Nova wouldn't laugh. Cyanide was her favorite anarchist, and he knew it. However, that was the shadow that made her laugh the most. And the truth was Winston laughed even more.

“And wait, there’s more!” Winston went on. “Guess this one!”

Nova had a hand on her chin. “It's... it's a spider!”

“No! It's Phobia!”

“Because he’s ugly!” Nova laughed.

“He’s ugly indeed!” What other shadow? What other shadow? “And what about this one?”

“A duck!”

“What duck!” Winston laughed. “It's a swan!”

“It's Honey!” she screeched, pointing at the shadow with her finger.

“The one and only, Novie, the one and only!”

One more. A dog.

Nova immediately knew the answer. “Ingrid!”

“YES! BECAUSE SHE’S A TOTAL BITCH!”

At this point, both were laughing so hard they were almost out of breath.

If Leroy or any of the others had listened (which they surely had), Winston wouldn't mind at all if they got mad at him and ignored him for the rest of the week. They could pretend he didn't exist for the rest of his life and he wouldn't care. Seeing Nova happy made it all worth it.

Winston was happy too.

Nova wiped a small tear from her eye and looked at Hettie fondly. “Do you know what my mom did when I went to sleep?” she asked.

“What did she do?”

“She read me stories,” Nova replied. “She said that pretty stories would scare the nightmares away.”

Winston nodded. Probably someone had read stories to him when he was little, he just didn’t remember.

“Could you tell Hettie a story?” Nova begged. “Shadow puppets and everything. That way, he would have pretty dreams.”

Hettie? Dreams? Hettie couldn’t dream. And neither did Winston.

But he didn't want to ruin the mood.

“Of course.” He wiped the sweat on his pants. Again. “Let's see… Pay attention, Hettie. Your prettiest dream is about to start.”

He cleared his throat.

Pay attention, Hettie. Your worst nightmare is about to start.

“Once upon a time there was a rabbit,” Winston said, “that lived in the Land of Rabbits.” A rabbit shadow emerged from the corner of the stage. “The Land of Rabbits was… not a good place to live. There were eagles in the sky—” the eagle replaced the rabbit for a second “—that watched the rabbits, waiting for the first chance they got to eat them. So the rabbits had to hide in their tunnels.”

Nova stifled a comical gasp of astonishment.

“But there was this rabbit—”

“What was the rabbit’s name?”

Winston couldn't come up with a better name. “Hettie.”

Nova nodded in approval. “Did you hear, Hettie?” she asked the puppet. “You and the rabbit have the same name.”

You. You. It’s always you.

Everything always ends up being about you.

Fucking Hettie.

“Yeah, so Hettie was there. Being a rabbit.” Hettie Rabbit jumped happily throughout the light.

“He lived with Mama Rabbit and Papa Rabbit. They were the Rabbit family.”

“You say ‘rabbit’ a lot.”

Winston laughed, a little more tense than before.

Rabbit. Rabbit. Rabbit. Rabbit. Rabbit.

Hettie.

Fucking Hettie.

“But one day, Mama Rabbit and Papa Rabbit had to leave Hettie alone,” Winston continued. “And they left him with their friend…”

Hettie Rabbit became a hungry, violent, and heavy-breathing creature.

It became him .

“Their friend the wolf.”

Him. The wolf. The wolf. Him.

Hettie.

Winston sighed. Fucking Hettie.

“So… so…”

So. So. So. So what happened?

Nova turned her head slightly. She had the same question.

Winston knew the Rabbit was a fucking idiot. What else happened to rabbits that entered the wolf's mouth? No one told that rabbit to go in there. But that rabbit had no other choice. He had nowhere else to go.

Or maybe he did have another place to go. If only he had been smarter…

“Um… Hey…”

If Hettie had been smarter, he would have warned Winston that when the wolves got too close, nothing good was going to happen to the rabbits.

But Hettie was a jerk.

Hettie. Hettie. Fucking Hettie.

“Winston!”

Her voice was like a needle that broke the bubble that enveloped him for a second.

“Novie?”

“What happened to Hettie?” she asked.

The mere question made his blood boil.

More shadows. The wolf, hungry and dangerous, on top of the rabbit, terrified and defenseless.

Nova was no longer smiling.

“Well, what happens to all rabbits,” he replied. “The wolf ate him. The end.”

The flashlight gave up and went off again.

Finally.

Winston turned to Nova. He didn't expect her to be happy. Winston certainly wasn't.

But he didn't expect to see her furious either.

“What a shitty story,” she spat.

“Excuse you?”

Nova stood up abruptly. Her turquoise pants were as dirty as his. “I said it was a shitty story. It isn’t like my mom’s stories.” She crossed her arms. “Do it again.”

“I won’t. I'm not going to tell another story,” Winston replied, standing up as well. “This is how it ends.” He walked over to her and put his finger on her chest. “El fin. The end. The end of all endings.”

“No!” Nova yelled as she clenched her fists and slammed her foot against the ground. “That is not the end!”

“I don’t care! It's my end!” Winston exclaimed imitating her. “Just like Hettie is my puppet! And I won't let you play with him!”

Nova's cheeks puffed out like a balloon. “Well, I'll play with him anyway!” she yelled, yanking Hettie off his bed. “You don't play with him! He feels alone! He told me!”

Winston tried to grab Hettie, but Nova pushed him away just in time.

It was a six-year-old girl versus a nineteen-year-old teenager. He could just kick her in the face and run.

But for some reason, he didn't do that. “Idiot!” he said taking Hettie’s arm. “Puppets don't talk!”

He tried to snatch it from her a second time. Nova grabbed his leg. “They talk to me!”

“It’s not true!” Winston insisted. “Liar! Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

Nova struggled too. “Your pants are on fire! You’re the liar!”

Hettie sided with Nova. You know that this is a very serious accusation, right? Why are you making up that kind of thing? Why are you lying to us, Winston?

Winston Pratt was many things. But he was not a liar.

He would never lie about that.

Why don’t you believe me? Why do you think I’m lying? I don’t want to make you suffer. Why would I want that? Only villains want to make people suffer.

Why would I be a villain?

Why would I be a liar?

He pulled Hettie toward him so hard, he ended up bringing Nova with him. She slammed into his chest and gave a slight groan.

Winston, not quite sure what he was doing, hugged her. He hugged her as he would have liked to be hugged.

When he told his parents the truth of his nightmares, his sleepless nights, and his constant fear, instead of covering him with kisses, hugs, and words of affection, they had called him a liar. Just like he had just called Nova.

He would never lie to them. Not about that.

Winston thought she would run away. He thought that she would also be terrified of any display of physical contact.

But Nova didn't. Nova hugged him too.

And Winston… Winston burst into tears.

Hysterically.

“Why are you crying?” Nova asked, worried.

“No, it's just... it's just...” he said between sobs. “It's just that I'm so sorry I made you angry.”

“I was not angry,” Nova corrected slightly defensively. “I panicked.”

That made him let out another sob. “Did I scared you?”

Nova clung to him tighter. “Yes. Your eyes changed.”

Winston sniffed with her purple jacket. “How?”

“They were... angry,” Nova explained. “Not sad. They didn't look like Hettie's.”

Winston separated from Nova. Hettie was crushed between the two of them. Despite the fight, he had remained intact.

Seeing him was like looking in a mirror.

Winston was not the puppeteer. He was a puppet.

It was Hettie’s fault. Winston’s fault.

Nova was looking at Hettie as well. She took him in her hands and caressed the buttons of the little suit with affection. Winston put his arm around Nova and gently shook her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Nova replied. “I won’t tell my uncle.”

Winston tried to laugh, but all that came out of his mouth was another sob. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Nova turned to see him. “Don’t cry. Stop it,” she ordered sternly.

He stopped crying. It was like… magic.

You have balls, Novie. You have balls.

Her expression changed from annoyed to astonished. “Your makeup isn’t ruined.”

Winston stroked his cheek thoughtfully. “It’s… it’s not makeup.”

Nova reached out her hand and caressed it as well. “It's your face,” she whispered.

“It's my face,” he repeated.

She sat on his outstretched leg, looked away from him, and didn't let go of Hettie.

“Did the wolf really eat the rabbit?” she asked.

You and your damn rabbit.

“Really, really,” he replied.

Nova frowned sadly. “Poor little thing…”

“Poor little thing?” Winston snorted. “He deserved it.”

“Why?” Nova asked, very confused.

Why not? Why wouldn't he deserve it?

“Because… he shouldn’t be hanging out with wolves.”

And Nova turned to see him as if he had said the greatest nonsense in the world. She crossed her arms again, and very confident of herself, she said, “But the wolf shouldn’t be eating rabbits in the first place.”

Winston raised his eyebrows.

She was not an idiot.

But that was not how the world worked.

Nova returned her attention to Hettie.

Seeing her there, sitting on top of him, so helpless and confident, made him realize that he couldn't let something bad happen to her.

Not like others had let it happen to him.

“Nova,” he called her. Nova raised her gaze from the puppet. “If you ... if you ever meet a wolf, you have to tell me.”

“There are no wolves in the city,” she chuckled. “But if I do, I'll tell you.”

Winston chuckled too. “No, I mean... a wolf is not just an animal,” he explained. He scratched his back. He fucking hated bugs, really. “A wolf can be anyone who makes you feel bad. Has someone ever made you feel bad?”

Nova had to stop to think about it. Winston felt his heart beat faster.

Finally, she replied, “Honey once told me that I had a terrible accent and she couldn’t understand a word I was saying.”

He sighed in relief. Winston didn't know how he would have reacted if Nova...

If the same had happened to Nova.

“Okay, that's Honey being Honey,” he assured. “I mean... if someone... you know.”

Nova wrinkled her nose. Of course, she didn't know.

It was good that she didn't know, right? Or was it bad?

“Look, for example... We hugged a while ago, right?”

“Yes.”

“And I have my arm on your shoulder—” he raised his arm slightly. “—And you touched my cheek—” he held her fingers “—and right now you're sitting on my leg.”

He moved his leg in such a way that it made Nova jump slightly. “Yes,” she replied with a laugh.

“And is that okay with you?”

Nova nodded.

“I am glad. But if someone ever touches you or puts you in a situation where you are afraid, feel bad, or do not understand... run away. And you tell me, or your uncle, or Leroy, Honey… heck, even tell Phobia or Ingrid. But tell someone.” He put his hands on her shoulders, hoping the despair didn't show in his high-pitched voice. “Don't be like the rabbit.”

Don't be like me.

“But the rabbit didn't know about the wolf.” She stroked Hettie's cheek the way she stroked Winston's a couple of minutes ago. “It wasn't Hettie's fault.”

It was useless. It didn't matter how many times Nova repeated it to him.

Winston knew it was his fault.

But he also didn't want to argue about it anymore. Now he didn't matter. Nova was the only thing that mattered.

Nova was everything.

“Nova. Please, Nova, do you swear you will tell someone if you find a wolf?”

Do you swear you will never be like me?

“My Uncle Ace says swearing is terribly wicked.”

He squeezed her shoulders lightly.

Ace could go fuck himself.

Winston wanted to be certain that she was going to be safe, that she knew what she had to know.

Nova had to know if something bad happened to her...

Winston couldn't speak for the other anarchists. He wanted to believe they would do the right thing, but people kept surprising him in the worst ways. But Winston needed Nova to confirm that she knew that if something bad happened to her, he was going to believe her with the same intensity that others had not believed him.

One thing they had in common was that neither of them was a liar.

“If you swear it to me, I'll let you play with Hettie.”

Her face lit up. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, seriously.”

Nova giggled. “I swear.”

Winston offered his fist and Nova bumped into it.

He was silent, but his mind was racing.

It didn't matter what happened in the future. Winston was going to believe Nova. Forever. Because Nova wasn't going to be like him. And he wasn't going to be like the people who hurt him, either.

“Do you want to play with Hettie?” he whispered to her.

Nova stared at Hettie for a few more seconds. She smiled at him and returned him to his bed with the delicacy that only a girl her age could have. “No. He is already asleep. Tomorrow will be another day.”

And before Winston could respond, Nova squeezed his hand in such a way that she inadvertently pushed him into the void.

Winston fell asleep.

He slept better than he had in a long time.

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #fic #ao3 #winston pratt #nova artino #i dont know how else to tag this #um...#*insert funny tag*#*insert childhood trauma*#obsi's writs #the puppet of the sad eyes

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sage-nebula · 3 years

Note

So since you're taking fandom asks uhhhh do you have any more thoughts/ideas about your pokemon fantasy au? Specifically about Alan? I just love him and that au a lot<3

Just so you know, I am always taking fandom asks. I might not answer them right away because I haven’t spent as much time on tumblr ever since I got my new job last year (because tumblr is blocked there for being a “video sharing site,” hilarious though that is), but I love talking about fandoms and am always down to take questions about them.

That said, I sure do!

I don’t know how much of this I’ve shared here before, and if I repeat anything you already know then my bad, but what I have so far is:

— Alan hails from the Kingdom of Kalos, and is one of the Keepers of the Spirit of a Mythical Pokémon — in his case, Keldeo.

— And on that note, before we proceed further, that is a change I made. I originally had him as the Keeper of Victini, but I decided to change it to Keldeo because even though Victini is my favorite mythical and fire-type suits him more than water-type, Keldeo fits Alan to a T. Orphaned at a young age but happily adopted, determination to become stronger, so determined it has a resolute form, and Alan’s leitmotif in The Strongest Mega Evolution / XY&Z is actually sampled from Keldeo’s theme from its movie, “The Legend of the Sacred Swordsman”. Everything fits. So in conclusion, the boy is the Keeper of Keldeo, I don’t make the rules. I mean, I do, but my hands are pretty tied on this one. Moving on . . .

— Soon after his birth, one of King Lysandre’s mages, Xerosic, identified infant Alan as the Keeper of Keldeo. Highly motivated to bring as many Keepers into his service as he could (and raising one from infancy to be loyal to him was the best situation he could ask for), Lysandre sent his knights along with Xerosic to obtain the child and bring him back. Lysandre’s knights did find baby Alan and his parents living in a remote town, but unlike in canon, Alan’s parents were not willing to hand their baby over to the king and a fight broke out. Alan’s mother’s family’s guards fought against the knights, and ultimately, were unsuccessful. Many of the guards and pretty much all of Alan’s family, his parents included, were slain. But somehow, Alan himself was lost in the battle. Lysandre’s knights searched through all corpses and burnt wreckage, but they couldn’t find the infant anywhere. Assuming him to have died and his body too mangled to identify, they reluctantly returned to the castle to deliver the news.

— In reality, what actually happened is that Alan’s mother, knowing that the battle was going to be lost and not wanting her son raised by the king, did what any panicked and terrified mother would do and put her son in a sling around the neck and shoulders of one of the family’s Charizard and sent the dragon away with baby Alan and the Charizard’s own baby Charmander (who, incidentally, hatched from his egg the very same day Alan was born). The Charizard was offended — she felt she should get to stay and fight — but ultimately the safety of the babies won out (particularly since, like any other pokémon, the Charizard could sense the Spirit of Keldeo within baby Alan and knew that he was someone to be protected) and so she took off with both human infant and Charizard baby in tow.

— And so, for the next few years, Alan was raised by a Charizard in the mountains, an absolute feral child. He didn’t know how to speak human language, nor did he know how to speak Charmander / Charizard (he made growls and similar sounds, but that’s not the same as language), though he could communicate with them well enough. Mama Charizard made sure that Alan stayed fed, fed him curing berries when he got sick (which didn’t work as well as they did for pokémon, but she tried), and he grew up with her baby as his brother. The two often wrestled and play-sparred, which resulted in quite a few injuries for Alan at first as the Charmander didn’t quite realize that Alan’s human skin wasn’t as tough as a fellow Charmander’s scales, but the two bonded exceedingly quickly and would remain inseparable for the rest of their lives.

— However, as mentioned, this only lasted for a few years. Neither King Lysandre nor Xerosic truly believed that Alan had perished in that battle, and so Xerosic had continued scrying for him ever since while Lysandre sent out search parties to the mountains. Every time they got near, Mama Charizard took both her babies and flew to another remote location, deeper and deeper into the mountains. It was deep in a cavernous ravine that tragedy struck; an earthquake triggered by Lysandre’s knights battling wild Tyranitar caused a rockslide, and though Mama Charizard managed to get her sons out of the way, she didn’t manage to escape herself. Boulders too heavy for her to move and at too awkward a position for her to melt pinned her to the ground. Her wings were crushed; she wouldn’t be able to properly defend her babies if danger came.

— Fortunately, danger did not come, but help did. A powerful sage named Olympia foresaw this tragedy, and though she knew that she couldn’t do anything to interfere with it happening because that would put the future too far off course, she could prevent it from getting any worse. She arrived soon after the tragedy struck, and though Mama Charizard was at first very defensive against her (believing her to be one of the humans out to hurt her human son), Olympia was able to convince her that she was there to help. Olympia’s psychic pokémon moved the boulders pinning Mama Charizard, freeing her so that she could move again . . . but only in limited capacity, given the breaks and tears in her wings. It was then that Olympia told Mama Charizard that she could take her and her babies to someone who would keep all three of them safe. Still wary, but with no other options, Mama Charizard relented.

— It was a long journey, given that Mama Charizard could not fly and would not consent to a pokéball, but eventually Olympia moved all three safely to a quiet village — and, more specifically, to the home of an alchemist named Augustine Sycamore. Sycamore was, of course, pretty shocked to see Olympia show up with a severely wounded Charizard, a toddler Charmander, and a feral human toddler in tow, but after Olympia explained the situation (Mama Charizard was too injured to survive in the wild anymore, the toddlers wouldn’t survive on their own either, the human boy should probably become civilized and was also the Keeper of Keldeo and needed to be protected by a trustworthy guardian), Sycamore agreed to take them all in.

— As an alchemist rather than a monster trainer, Sycamore didn’t exactly have the qualifications to care for injured dragons. Despite this, he had a very spacious plot of land that he had inherited from his family, and as such Mama Charizard had more than enough room to recover, even if she would never be able to leave again due to her injured wings. Additionally, Sycamore made sure she knew that he wasn’t intending to take her babies from her, although in the eyes of the law he was adopting the human boy, but that didn’t mean he would prevent Mama Charizard from being part of his life. (Also, Mama Charizard could not fly, but she could still melt boulders, so Sycamore wasn’t going to push his luck on that one.)

— That said, if he was going to be adopted by a human parent, the feral child did need a name, and calling him “Keeper of Keldeo” would do the exact opposite of what Olympia said needed to be done to ensure his secrecy and safety. As such, Sycamore named him “Alan”, and set about teaching him how to do things like read, write, speak, and otherwise live in human society.

— When it came to being civilized, three-year-old Alan did not go quietly into the good night.

— For starters, he hated clothing. He’d never worn clothing before in his memory before Olympia found him and yanked things over his legs and tugged something over his head, and he’d been just fine. He didn’t understand why Olympia or Sycamore wanted to put him in clothes all the time and thus took them off at every opportunity. He also pitched a fit every single night he had to sleep indoors in a bed versus outside with his mother and brother. Eventually a compromise was made that both Alan and the Charmander would sleep indoors in the bed, but even then, Sycamore woke up no few mornings to find them both outside with Mama Charizard again. (And Mama Charizard was of no help in this department; if nothing else, she looked Smug when Sycamore saw the boys curled up against her chest beneath her wing.) Additionally, for the longest time Sycamore thought he was making no progress teaching Alan human language; he went over books with him every single day, but still Alan wouldn’t say a single word to him, with his only vocalizations being growls instead. It wasn’t until a full six months had passed before Alan looked at Sycamore one day and said, “Why don’t you call my brother anything?”

Sycamore stared at him for a long moment before he sputtered, “You can talk?”

“Yes.” Alan’s glare was unwavering. “Why doesn’t my brother have a name?”

Sycamore didn’t know whether to be elated the lessons had worked, bewildered why it took Alan so long to show that the lessons had worked, or a bit defensive at being so suddenly interrogated.

— Eventually, Sycamore told Alan that he and the Charmander should work out a name for said Charmander together, along with Mama Charizard’s input perhaps, and the name the two eventually came back with was Lizardon.

— Although Alan put up a stubborn fight pretty much every step of the way, by the time he was five he’d mostly acclimated to living like a human, and by the time he was six he took an active interest in Sycamore’s alchemic studies. By age seven he was helping with some of the experiments, and by age nine he considered himself Sycamore’s apprentice and hoped to one day become an alchemist himself. In other words, though it took time, the two bonded and came to love each other as father and son, and Alan came to be quite embarrassed about all the times he bit Sycamore when they first met. (It was quite a bit. He really didn’t like that whole “wearing clothes” thing.)

— As for Mama Charizard, she too gradually warmed up to letting Sycamore co-parent the boys. She also came to fall in love with Sycamore’s Garchomp, Gabrielle, so soon Alan and Lizardon basically had two moms and a dad. All in all, things were going quite well for them.

— And then, as it always does . . . misfortune, steered by destiny, came knocking.

— All these years, Xerosic never stopped searching for the Keeper of Keldeo, and by the time Alan was 13, Xerosic finally found him. This time, Lysandre took a more measured approach to things; at age 13, Alan would not be as malleable as he would have been had Lysandre been able to take him as an infant. If Lysandre had his soldiers abduct Alan now, no doubt he would put up a fight, and the Spirit of Keldeo was one of Determination. If the Keeper wanted to leave, he would leave. Lysandre had to find a way to make him want to stay. As such, he decided to stage a danger that would convince Alan that he needed to join Lysandre’s knights. Once he did that, everything would fall into place.

— So Lysandre sent his spies, led by Malva, to gather recon. They returned with intel that Alan was being raised by an alchemist and aspired to become one himself. They reported that he seemed very attached to his family and his home, and that it would be unlikely that he’d want to leave . . . but that there was a high probability he’d want to protect his family and his home. As a result, Lysandre staged things in three parts:

1.) He and his knights visited the village so that they could “check in” to see if there was anything they could do to enrich the lives of the people there. When Lysandre spotted Alan in the crowd, he made particular note to introduce himself to the boy, and make a comment about how perhaps Alan would like to join the knights one day, to help protect the kingdom. With Sycamore’s hand on his shoulder, Alan replied that he wanted to be an alchemist. Lysandre smiled and said, “Well, you never know what the future will hold.”

2.) A few days after that, he staged a disaster; I don’t have a clear idea in mind for what the disaster was at the moment, but it was something that put Sycamore, Mama Charizard, Gabrielle, and others in danger. Alan and Lizardon did their best to defend but they didn’t have training to do very much. I think Lysandre probably staged this so that it looked like an attack from one of the neighboring nations (perhaps the Kingdom of Galar) to make it extra clear why it would be wise for Alan to join the knights to protect his family and his home.

3.) A few days after that, Lysandre and the knights visited again to help the village recover from the attack. He also, while there, once again suggested that Alan could learn to defend against attacks like these if he joined the knights.

— And that was all it took. Alan didn’t want to leave home, but he also couldn’t stand the thought of anything terrible happening to his family. So he asked Sycamore if he could join the knights—pleaded, even. Sycamore didn’t want to say yes for multiple reasons, the warning Olympia had given him about Alan being a Keeper and thus needing to be kept away from those who might use him in mind—but he could also tell by the fire in Alan’s eyes that he was not really going to take “no” for an answer, and so he relented on the condition that Alan write weekly letters. Alan agreed without hesitation. Mama Charizard, meanwhile, had no use for letters, but she agreed only so long as Lizardon went with Alan, because she believed them stronger together. Of course, neither Alan nor Lizardon had a problem with this, and as such they both left with Lysandre that afternoon. Just as planned.

— Things changed for both of them pretty quickly once they got back to the castle. For one, Lysandre forced Alan and Lizardon to begin using a pokéball, as was kingdom law. For another, while Alan was technically a squire like any other beginning knight, he was also much younger than the rest and thus would receive personal lessons from Lysandre himself in order to get him where he needed to be in terms of strength and training. Alan had no qualms about this, of course; he wanted to get as strong as he could as fast as he could.

— The first bit of training they went through was Alan testing out different weapons to see which one he was best suited to using. In honesty, he had aptitude for multiple; his sharp eyesight made him proficient with a bow, and he wasn’t half bad with a sword and shield. Ultimately he chose to specialize in polearm, though he would still practice with sword and bow semi-regularly in the years to follow.

— Other forms of training included Alan sparring with Lysandre himself (which especially in the early years consisted mostly of Lysandre kicking Alan around the training grounds), and melee matches with other knights and their pokémon. It was in one of these matches that Alan was seriously injured; Lizardon, a Charmeleon now, let out a startled cry as one of the knights hit him with the blunt end of an axe and knocked him to the ground. Distracted, Alan rushed to Lizardon’s aid, only to be hit by Lysandre’s Pyroar from his blind spot. Pyroar’s claws raked down the side of Alan’s face, blood everywhere, and the training session was halted. Lysandre scolded Alan, telling him this was what happened when he got distracted in battle, before he sent him off to the infirmary for treatment. The wounds healed, but scars remained down his cheek from then on.

— For what it’s worth, Alan did write weekly letters back home. But after a year of never receiving a response he stopped, figuring that Sycamore must be too upset with him for leaving in the first place to want to write back. In truth, Sycamore never received those letters. Lysandre ensured that they were never sent.

— Ultimately, harsh and cruel though it was, the training paid off. By the time he was fifteen Alan could best most of the other knights in combat, including the generals, earning him the rank of General himself (as well as Lysandre’s top General, though that was due to his nature as a Keeper in all honesty; Lysandre wanted to keep him on a short leash). This, naturally, made him very unpopular with the other knights, who felt he was an upstart who didn’t deserve such a high rank, but Alan didn’t join the knights to make friends and so he mostly ignored their scorn.

— While he had standard armor at first, Lysandre’s training fast-tracked Lizardon’s evolution, as well as his and Alan’s ability to Mega Evolve. Charizard scales shed naturally, and by the time Alan was 17 enough scales were collected from Charizard’s mega evolved form that they were able to forge custom armor from them. This armor, naturally, was fireproof, and his ability to withstand flames—along with the Spirit of Keldeo giving him unnatural determination that allows him to keep fighting even after sustaining what should be life-threatening injuries, that fire inside him only burning out once the battle is through—earned him a fearsome reputation. Being sighted standing engulfed in flames, his refusal to go down . . . both of these earned him a reputation as a “demon knight.”

— Once Lizardon evolved into Charizard, he became Alan’s sole sparring partner. Unlike the play wrestling of their youth, Alan and Lizardon’s sparring was much more skilled now, with Alan using his polearm and Lizardon deftly avoiding strikes while trying to pin Alan to the ground. So far, Lizardon has ultimately won every spar, successfully pinning Alan to the ground and drenching his face with kisses. These moments are pretty much the only time Alan really laughs after joining the knights.

— At the time the story kicks off, Alan is Lysandre’s top general and he does not know that he is the Keeper of Keldeo. He is also completely unaware of Lysandre’s sinister machinations and aims. Sycamore is incredibly worried about him and has been ever since he went to the castle never to be heard from again, and has been making contacts across the kingdom to get as much information as he can. (He has tried to seek out Olympia for her console, but her whereabouts are unknown.) Lastly, Alan ends up saving a young aspiring bard named Manon when she’s attacked by brigands, and she immediately attaches herself to him, deciding that he is the perfect inspiration for her ballads and stories, no matter how many times Alan stresses to her that he is King Lysandre’s top general and he goes into battle a lot and she will get hurt and die if she continues to follow him.

“If you’re a general, then where’s your platoon?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Then how’re you a general?”

“It’s just a title. A rank. I’m different from the others.”

“And that’s why you’ll be great epic poem material!”

“[long suffering sigh]”

Eventually, Alan will learn the truth about the king’s intentions, but whether he learns the truth in time or not . . . that remains to be seen.

#pokemon fantasy au #champion alan #the bond that overcomes reason #stay tuned for Sycamore's upcoming book ''How to Co-Parent With a Charizard''#guaranteed to be 1 on the Kalos Best Sellers list #Anonymous #also - Broke: Killing Mama Charizard so Sycamore can adopt Alan #Woke: Keeping Mama Charizard alive & having her co-parent with Sycamore & giving her a Garchomp Wife #in this house we don't fridge (important) moms and also Love Wins

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cluttermind · 4 years

Text

Without A Parachute (4/?) - Smoke and Ashes

Summary: Emma worked tremendously hard to give herself a better chance. From group homes, to living in her car, to ivy league student, this English Major’s only solace was escaping her reality through books. One night, Emma comes home to find a small package with only her name on it written in beautiful calligraphy. The package contains a thick, brown leather journal. Emma soon learns that the fiction she writes in the journal eventually becomes reality. Will Emma learn to control this gift, or will she fall too fast into the temptation to change too much? With the help of her good friends August, Robin, and Elsa, and the mysterious, intriguing bartender of The Jolly Roger, Emma discovers just how easy it is to lose control, and how difficult it is to pick up the pieces.

Rating: M

Words: 14,041 total / 3,559 Ch 4

Read on ao3: Beginning | Current

Note: I thought this would take a lot longer to write than it did. This one kind of wrote itself.

I'm adding a trigger warning as the end of this one is a little dark. I hope you enjoy it either way! Things are really starting to move forward plot wise :)

TW: implied attempted sexual assault and under-aged drinking.

Chapter 4

“Smoke and Ashes”

I heard the church bells from afar

But we found each other in the dark

And when the smoke does finally pass

We will rise above all the ash

- City and Colour, We Found Each Other In The Dark

“It’s open!” August shouted from the kitchen of his large studio apartment. Emma opened the door and stepped in. “Emma! You’re late!” Ela and Robin called out hellos from their spots around the coffee table.

“Yeah I didn’t sleep much last night. What’s for brunch?” She asked, walking to take her seat next to Elsa on the floor in front of the couch.

“Chocolate chip pancakes” Elsa said, licking her lips. “Hurry up, August! I’m starving!” She whined dramatically, nudging Emma.

“Yeah August. Hurry before we perish.” Emma played along with Elsa, attempting to rile August. Robin chuckled, rolling his eyes at their antics. He was sitting across from Elsa, his laptop already open on the coffee table, typing away at a paper due in a few days.

“Nope. You were late. You can perish.” August retorted, flipping pancakes to be added to the growing pile next to him.

Emma gasped playfully. “Rude.” She pulled out her macroeconomics textbook just as her phone buzzed.

Killian Jones: Leaving before I wake up? Classy, Swan ;)

Emma Swan: I left a note!

Killian Jones: But without a kiss goodbye

Emma grinned at her phone like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Emma Swan: Then I guess it wasn’t goodbye ;)

“Well, well, well.” Elsa toyed, “Who are you texting Emma Swan?” August finally finished making an enormous pile of pancakes and brought the tray over to the table. Robin helped by running to grab some plates and silverware.

“Oh uhm Ruby.” Emma lied. “We’re joking about how awful our econ professor is.”

“Well I’m more interested in what the hell happened on Thursday,” Robin chimed in, handing Emma a plate. So much for being in a bubble.

Emma took a deep breath, hugged her knees to her chest and gave them the CliffNotes version of the story. Elsa rubbed her back the entire time. Saying it out loud somehow didn’t crush her they way it had before, as if the words no longer carried the weight they once did.

“Emma that’s awful!” Elsa nearly yelled when she finished speaking. “Don’t listen to a word he says. What kind of professor does that?!”

“What did he say to you after class?” August asked between taking bites of his pancakes.

“That I don’t have what it takes to be a writer.” Emma said, pausing, Killian’s words from last night echoing in her head. You get to make your own choices. Make them based on what makes you happy. “But he’s wrong.”

Her friends, being the wonderful, supportive people they are, stood strongly by her side. Yelling to each other how ridiculous this professor is, how he shouldn’t be a professor, and how brilliant their friend is. In that moment, Emma felt the least alone she had ever felt - surrounded by intelligent, kind, and loving friends who taught her what it means to be a part of a family. Because that’s what they were to her. They were her family. Her beautiful, ridiculous family.

After the yelling had died down and the excessively large pile of pancakes had been eaten, they spent all day studying, taking only a few short snack breaks. Before they knew it, it was dark outside. It was usually around now that they’d quit for the night, having finished enough to go the rest of the weekend relaxing. August nearly slammed his book shut, making the rest of them flinch.

“Geez, August. What’d the book ever do to you?” Robin asked.

“It existed.” August quipped, dramatically. “Can we be done? I need to be done.”

“I think I’ve done all I can for this weekend too.” Elsa said, closing her laptop. “What’re we doing tonight? Movies? Pizza?”

“I could go for a drink, honesty.” Robin responded, mirroring Elsa as he closed his own laptop.

“Drinks anywhere that also has food is usually expensive.” Emma stated.

“Yeah I guess.” August paused. “Oh! What about The Jolly Roger? It’s not that expensive right? Plus if I remember correctly, their onion rings are insane.” August was nearly salivating remembering the onion rings. The last time they had gone together was sometime last semester to celebrate the end of midterms.

“Right! I forgot how good those were.” Elsa responded. “Okay if we’re actually going out I need to change.”

“I’m so hungry. You look fine. Let’s just go.” August responded. Emma giggled about how the tables have turned since this morning when they were the ones complaining about being hungry.

“I’m not going to a bar in leggings and a sweatshirt.” Elsa threw her things in her bag. “Emma and I will meet you guys there in an hour. I have this beautiful dress that you just have to wear tonight.”

“Oh this isn’t an outing outing! We’re going for food!” Robin groaned.

“If we’re going to a bar, we’re going to a bar . It’s been way too long since we actually went out.” Elsa claimed. There was no arguing with her. She was pretty determined to make this happen. Plus, she wasn’t wrong. It had been a while since they went out together. She considered texting Killian to make sure he was working, but she knew he would be since he took yesterday off and thought she’d surprise him.

Emma shrugged and grabbed her things while August grumbled, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on for a bit. She followed Elsa out the door. At Elsa’s dorm, she handed Emma a simple, low cut, black dress. It was tight, ruched, and hugged her in all the right places. And the glitter got everywhere. Despite Emma’s protests about the glitter, Elsa insisted she wear it. She also insisted that Emma let her do her makeup and that she wear the black heals that ‘go so perfectly with it it’d be a cardinal sin not to wear them.’ Eventually Emma got to look at herself in the mirror, her dainty gold chain with a small gold book charm falling against her bare chest above the deep neckline of the black dress. Elsa was right, the shoes did go perfectly. And her red leather jacket actually pulled the look together.

Except it was freezing outside. Like actually freezing. All she wanted was her sweatshirt that was in her backpack that was now sitting in Elsa’s room.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Emma said, shivering as they waited for the bus.

“Oh come on! It’s not that cold. Plus you look great.”

“August might kill us. We’re so late.”

“We’re 20 minutes late.”

“We’re 30 minutes late Elsa.” Emma laughed as Elsa shugged, clearly not caring about August’s desire for food as they finally stepped onto the slightly crowded bus.

“August will live.”

“I’m more concerned about Robin having to deal with him.” Really what Emma was nervous about was seeing Killian. Butterflies filled her stomach when she thought about seeing him in something other than jeans and a sweater.

15 minutes later, they walked through the doors of The Jolly Roger 45 minutes late. Emma was grateful for the warmth of the pub. She instantly spotted August waving them over. He and Robin had already ordered and had food in front of them.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Robin joked, drinking the last of his beer.

“Blame Elsa.” Emma playfully nudged her friend next to her.

“Fine fine. This round’s on me. Emma help me with the drinks?” Elsa said, leading them to the bar.

That’s when Emma saw him, handing a customer a drink at the bar. Part of her wanted to run and hir, the other part of her wanted to run to him. He looked up from his customer and looked in her direction. She swore her heart nearly stopped when he smiled at her, eyes drinking her in.

“Swan.” Killian said, grinning at her as they approached. “Isn’t this a surprise. I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

I did say it wasn’t goodbye earlier, didn’t I? Emma thought.

“You two know each other?” Elsa asked.

“Aye. We do.” Killian said.

“Killian owns the pub. I come here to study during the week when it’s quiet. Sometimes he feeds me.” Emma said. Killian raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay fine. He feeds me a lot. Killian this is my friend Elsa. Elsa, this is Killian.” Elsa was staring wide-eyed at Emma, mouth open, silently screaming how did you not tell me about him?!

“Nice to meet you lass.” Killian said politely. His eyes, however, never left Emma’s and Elsa turned her attention back to him. “What can I get you?”

“4 beers and 4 shots of tequila.” Elsa chimed.

“Grilled cheese?” Killian asked Emma.

“With onion rings apparently. The thought of Smee’s onion rings were making August drool earlier. And make it two.” She responded as Killian poured their shots and set them in front of them. Elsa carefully grabbed three of them, letting Emma know she’ll meet her back at the table. Emma downed her shot quickly, wincing as the clear liquid burned her throat. Killian’s gaze sent a warmth up her neck and to her cheeks.

“You look nice, Swan.” He said eventually, pouring them each a shot. Killian held his glass to gently tap it against hers. They both downed the shot.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Aye, I know that, love. But I wear this every day.” Killian leaned forward on the bar in front of her. “So what’s the fun fact of the day?”

Emma looked confused. “The what?”

“You usually greet me with a weird fact whenever you come in here.” He paid attention. He listened to me , Emma thought. Part of her thought he never paid attention to the random things that came out of her mouth. She smiled. He was listening.

So she took a risk. “The whole button down, vest, fitted jeans thing really works for you.” Emma flirted.

Killian took the bait, smirking and raising an eyebrow at her, his voice dropping to a place she hadn’t heard before. “That black dress is really working for me. And I happen to quite like the red leather, love” Emma blushed bright red, her face matching the color of her jacket, and Killian pushed back against the bar, standing straight again. “Your friends are waiting for you. I’ll have Ruby bring your drinks in a second.”

“Tell Smee to rush that grilled cheese. I’m starving.” Emma said as she walked away, returning to the table her friends were at.

“Excuse me but who was that? What was that?” Elsa asked immediately.

“He’s the owner. I told you.” Emma stated, trying to avoid that conversation. “We’re friends.”

“Yeah, okay.” Elsa scoffed. Ruby brought over their drinks and another round of shots, and Elsa’s attention was suddenly elsewhere.

“Hey Emma! The shots are on the Captain.” Ruby said as she set everything down. “Anything else I can get you?”

Emma looked over at the bar to see Killian wink at her. She smiled and rolled her eyes at him. “I think we’re good."

For over an hour, they ate a little too much, drank a bit, and gossiped a little too much about the rumor going around the English Department that a student was sleeping with a professor. After a while Elsa went to get another drink and Robin went to talk to some friends in one of his classes, leaving August and Emma alone at the table.

“Elsa’s flirting with the bartender.” August commented.

Emma's eyes went wide with . . . jealousy? Not that Emma had any reason to be jealous. Killian could flirt with whomever he chose to. They spent one night together, literally sleeping. It didn’t mean anything. Did it?

August noted her confusion and nodded his head in Elsa’s direction. Emma turned to look where he was motioning to. Elsa was leaning forward on the bar talking to Ruby. They were giggling and Elsa was blushing, sipping on her drink.

“She looks happy” Emma smiled. “And they’re definitely flirting.”

“Oh yeah they’re not subtle at all.”

A song came over the speakers that Elsa and Emma both love. Emma watched as Ruby bothered Killian into turning the volume up and Elsa looked back at Emma, grinning from ear to ear. They had danced to this song hundreds of times in Elsa’s dorm and August’s apartment. Elsa nearly ran over to her, pulling her to her feet. They were nearly screaming the lyrics at each other, their hips swaying with the music. It wasn’t long before most of the pub was dancing with them.

Killian laughed as he watched Emma. He had never seen her this carefree, this full of life. The sight of her with her friends having fun sent a shiver of warmth through his body. As unsettling as that was, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, wanting to save this image of her forever.

“Dance with her.” Ruby said to him, pulling Killian out of the trance Emma had put him in.

“What?”

“Go dance with her. I’ll manage the bar for a bit.” Ruby held her hand out for his phone so she could keep the music going. He rolled his eyes, handing it over. As the song ended Ruby kept the energy going by putting on one of her carefully curated dance party playlists.

Killian snuck up behind Emma, hands grabbing her waist from behind. “Hi, love,” he said into her ear, laughing as she squealed from the unexpected touch

Emma turned her head back to smile at him, recognizing his thick accent. “Killian!” She laughed, clearly a little tipsy by now. Emma leaned back against him, her body still swaying with the beat of the music that somehow keeps getting louder, her ass moving fluidly against his hips. Elsa bounced away, making her way over to Ruby at the bar, leaving Emma and Killian as alone as two people could be in a crowded pub.

Killian ran his hands up her sides, entirely lost in Emma and the music. She turned around, laughing in his arms. Her hands rested on his shoulders and his found their place on her hips, pulling her close to him.

She was singing along to the music entirely off key on purpose And he laughed at her, his body moving easily with and against hers. Killing kept her tight against him. If he wasn’t working, if they weren’t in a crowded room, Emma might find her hands wandering places other than where they were playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Killian’s blue eyes locked on hers and she struggled to catch her breath. Emma’s entire body was humming in reaction to the way he looked at her and the way his hands rested possessively on her hips. Suddenly Emma crashed her lips against his, pulling him closer to her. Shocked for a brief second, Killian’s eyes shut as he kissed her back, his passion, his eagerness matching Emma’s. His arms wrapped tightly around her and the world fell away around them. Emma’s entire body was on fire as she kissed him. She kissed him like she had been waiting to kiss him her whole life. He kissed her like she could heal every broken piece of him.

Then the song changed and Killian pulled back.

“Wow” Emma breathed, finally releasing the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding for so long.

“Aye." He grinned. "I have to get back to work, love,” Killian said, a tinge of disappointment noticeable in his voice as he stepped back, putting distance between them. “To be continued.”

Emma smirked at him as she made her way back to her table. August was lost in the crowd, as was Robin. She finished off the rest of her drink before joining Elsa, who was clearly oblivious to everything other than the cute bartender in front of her. Emma bumped her with her hip playfully.

“So he’s hot .” Elsa whispered, barely loud enough for Emma to hear over the music.

“He’s not bad.” Emma smirked before confiding in her friend. “I kissed him.”

“Stop.” Elsa gasped. “Tell me everything.”

“Oi, love. I didn’t take you to be the type to kiss and tell.” She heard Killian tease. Her face went bright red. She hadn’t realized he was standing so close or that she was talking as loud as she was.

“Eh it was average.” Emma teased back, pretending to ignore him while she continued her conversation with Elsa. “He could use some practice.”

Killian raised his eyebrows at her, and leaned in towards her across the bar. “Is that a proposition, Swan?”

“Potentially.” Emma’s head was starting to spin. “I think I’m going to head home though. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Elsa asked.

“Nah it’s just a few blocks. I’ll be fine. You have fun.” Emma said. “Do you know where August and Robin went?”

“Robin left a few minutes ago with that girl from his philosophy class. I think her name was Regina?”

“Hm go Robin.”

“August’s at the other end of the bar with some guys I don’t know.”

“Ah well, I’ll let him be. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Emma asked, pulling Elsa into a hug.

“Definitely.”

Emma grabbed her jacket, bracing herself against the cold as much as possible. Everything was spinning around her. She didn’t remember having that much to drink. Her head was killing her. She stumbled a bit. These damn shoes . She felt sick, and dizzy, and weak. She heard footsteps behind her. Her legs gave out beneath her. Someone grabbed her upper arm tightly - too tightly - to keep her upright. Emma flinched at the pain in her arm. Suddenly her body was flush against another's, someone who she didn’t recognize.

“Let go.” Emma protested as much as she could but her body was betraying her.

“Shut up,” the man snarled at her. His voice was dark and rough.

It hit Emma like an earthquake, slow and confusing at first before the earth split beneath her. It hit her that this wouldn’t end well. There were few versions of stories like this that did. As a writer, as a woman, she knew. Emma didn’t know when she started crying. The cold wind felt colder against her wet cheeks and the dread of what would come next filled every fiber of her being.

And while she wasn’t religious, a familiar prayer popped into her head, a shadow of a memory from some of the religious-based group homes she had found herself in.

Hail Mary, full of Grace

She wanted to jerk her arm out of his grip, hit him wherever she was able too. She couldn’t tell if it was the fear or something else that was paralyzing her.

The Lord is with Thee

He walked her a few steps forward, her feet dragging against the sidewalk. No. No. No. Please. Even her voice was betraying her. His grip on her arm tightened when she tried everything she could to pull away.

Blessed art thou among women

Her body was trembling yet her mind was blank. Thoughts beyond the plea to a God she didn’t believe in were unable, unwilling to form. Emma refused to think about anything beyond the time it took for one foot to be dragged in front of the other. She couldn’t remember the next line of the prayer. She skipped it. Everything was simultaneously happening too fast and too slow.

Hail Mary, Mother of God

She could barely keep her eyes open or her body standing. She had to lean against him for support. This made Emma sick to her stomach. Tears fell faster as she begged to see tomorrow.

Pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death --

“Swan! You forgot your phone!” Killian called as he ran out to catch Emma. His voice cut through the night, interrupting the final word of her petition.

“LET HER GO!” She heard Killian run towards her.

The man in the hoodie cursed when he heard Killian’s voice and ripped Emma’s necklace from her neck. “I’ll get you one day, pretty. One day you’ll really fall and I’ll be waiting,” he whispered harshly. The man tossed Emma to the ground, discarding her from his grip, before sprinting away. Her head hit the concrete sidewalk. Pain and relief and fear and disgust and guilt washed over her.

Killian was kneeling at her side in an instant. “Emma, are you okay?” His accent was thick with concern as he lifted her head off the sidewalk. Everything was still spinning. Everything was still slipping away.

She opened her wet eyes to see Killian close to her. Everything was going dark. Everything was spinning. The only thing in focus was Killian’s blue eyes. Emma felt like she was drowning and the world around her was going dark.

Even though she felt herself sinking deeper, Killian’s touch, his presence, his voice gave her the strength to allow the word she’d been wanting to scream for the past minute and a half finally escape her lips.

“Help.”

#cs ff #cs fanfiction #Without A Parachute #Captain Swan #Killian Jones #Captain Hook #emma swan #AU college #AU modern with magic

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orthodoxydaily · 4 years

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Saints&Reading: Fri., Oct. 8, 2020

Commemorated on September 26 and May 8_according to the Julian calendar

The Holy Apostle and Evangelist John-the-Theologian

The Holy Apostle and Evangelist John the Theologian was the son of Zebedee and Salomia – a daughter of Saint Joseph the Betrothed. Together at the same time with his elder brother James, he was called by our Lord Jesus Christ to be numbered amongst His Apostles, which took place at Lake Gennesareth (i.e. the Sea of Galilee). Leaving behind their father, both brothers followed the Lord. The Apostle John was especially beloved by the Saviour for his sacrificial love and his virginal purity. After his calling, the Apostle John did not part from the Lord, and he was one of the three apostles, who were particularly close to Him. Saint John the Theologian was present when the Lord resuscitated to life the daughter of Jairus, and he was a witness to the Transfiguration of the Lord on Mount Tabor. During the time of the Last Supper, he reclined next to the Lord, and at a gesture from the Apostle Peter, he pressed nigh to the bosom of the Saviour and asked the name of the betrayer. The Apostle John followed after the Lord, when they led Him bound from the Garden of Gethsemane to the court of the iniquitous high-priests Annas and Caiphas. He was there in the courtyard of the high-priest during the interrogations of his Divine Teacher and he resolutely followed after him on the way of the Cross, grieving with all his heart. At the foot of the Cross he went together with the Mother of God and heard addressed to Her from atop the Cross the words of the Crucified Lord: "Woman, behold Thy son" and to him "Behold thy Mother" (Jn. 19: 26-27). And from that moment the Apostle John, like a loving son, concerned himself over the MostHoly Virgin Mary, and he served Her until Her Dormition ("Falling-Asleep" or "Uspenie"), never leaving Jerusalem. After the Dormition of the Mother of God the Apostle John, in accord with the lot that had befallen him, set off to Ephesus and other cities of Asia Minor to preach the Gospel, taking with him his own disciple Prokhoros. They set off upon their on a ship, which floundered during the time of a terrible tempest. All the travellers were cast up upon dry ground, and only the Apostle John remained in the depths of the sea. Prokhoros wept bitterly, bereft of his spiritual father and guide, and he went on towards Ephesus alone. On the fourteenth day of his journey he stood at the shore of the sea and beheld, that the waves had cast ashore a man. Going up to him, he recognised the Apostle John, whom the Lord had preserved alive for fourteen days in the deeps of the sea. Teacher and student set off to Ephesus, where the Apostle John preached incessantly to the pagans about Christ. His preaching was accompanied by numerous and great miracles, such that the number of believers increased with each day. During this time there had begun a persecution against Christians under the emperor Nero (56-68). They took away the Apostle John for trial at Rome. The Apostle John was sentenced to death for his confession of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, but the Lord preserved His chosen one. The apostle drank out of a cup prepared for him with deadly poison but he remained alive, and later he emerged unharmed from a cauldron of boiling oil, into which he had been thrown on orders from the torturer. After this, they sent the Apostle John off to imprisonment to the island of Patmos, where he spent many years. Proceeding along on his way to the place of exile, the Apostle John worked many miracles. On the island of Patmos, his preaching accompanied by miracles attracted to him all the inhabitants of the island, and he enlightened them with the light of the Gospel. He cast out many a devil from the pagan-idol temples, and he healed a great multitude of the sick. Sorcerer-magicians with diverse demonic powers showed great hostility to the preaching of the holy apostle. He gave especial fright to the chief sorcerer of them all, named Kinops, who boasted that they would destroy the apostle. But the great John – the Son of Thunder, as the Lord Himself had named him, and by the grace of God acting through him – destroyed all the demonic artifices to which Kinops resorted, and the haughty sorcerer perished exhausted in the depths of the sea. The Apostle John withdrew with his disciple Prokhoros to a desolate height, where he imposed upon himself a three-day fast. During the time of the Apostle John's prayer the earth quaked and thunder boomed. Prokhoros in fright fell to the ground. The Apostle John lifted him up and bid him to write down, that which he was to speak. "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, saith the Lord, Which is and Which was and Which is to come, the Almighty" (Rev. 1: 8), – proclaimed the Spirit of God through the Apostle John. Thus in about the year 67 was written the Book of Revelation ("Otkrovenie", known also as the "Apocalypse") of the holy Apostle John the Theologian. In this Book was a revealing of the tribulations of the Church and of the end of the world. After his prolonged exile, the Apostle John received his freedom and returned to Ephesus, where he continued with his activity, instructing Christians to guard against false-teachers and their false-teachings. In about the year 95, the Apostle John wrote his Gospel at Ephesus. He called for all Christians to love the Lord and one another, and by this to fulfill the commands of Christ. The Church entitles Saint John the "Apostle of Love", since he constantly taught, that without love man cannot come nigh to God. In his three Epistles, written by the Apostle John, he speaks about the significance of love for God and for neighbour. Already in his old age, and having learned of a youth who had strayed from the true path to begin following the leader of a band of robbers, the Apostle John went out into the wilderness to seek him. Catching sight of the holy elder, the culprit tried to hide himself, but the Apostle John ran after him and besought him to stop, and promising to take the sins of the youth upon himself, if only he should but repent and not bring ruination upon his soul. Shaken by the intense love of the holy elder, the youth actually did repent and turn his life around. The holy Apostle John died at more than an hundred years old. he far out-lived the other remaining eye-witnesses of the Lord, and for a long time he remained the sole remaining eye-witness of the earthly paths of the Saviour. When it became time for the departure of the Apostle John, he withdrew out beyond the city-limits of Ephesus, being together with the families of his disciples. He bid them prepare for him a cross-shaped grave, in which he lay, telling his disciples that they should cover him over with the soil. The students with tears kissed their beloved teacher, but not wanting to be disobedient, they fulfilled his bidding. They covered the face of the saint with a cloth and filled in the grave. Learning of this, other students of the Apostle John came to the place of his burial, but opening the grave they found it empty. Each year from the grave of the holy Apostle John on 8 May there came forth a fine ash-dust, which believers gathered up and were healed of sicknesses by it. Therefore the Church celebrates the memory of the holy Apostle John the Theologian still even also on 8 May. The Lord bestowed on His beloved disciple John and John's brother James the name "Sons of Thunder" – as an awesome messenger in its cleansing power of the heavenly fire. And precisely by this the Saviour pointed out the flaming, fiery, sacrificial character of Christian love, – the preacher of which was the Apostle John the Theologian. The eagle – symbol of the lofty soaring of his theological thought – is the iconographic symbol of the Evangelist John the Theologian. The appellation "Theologian" is bestown by Holy Church only to Saint John among the immediate Disciples and Apostles of Christ, as being the seer of the mysteried Judgements of God.

1 John 4:12-19

12No one has seen God at any time. If we love one another, God abides in us, and His love has been perfected in us. 13 By this we know that we abide in Him, and He in us, because He has given us of His Spirit.14 And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent the Son as Savior of the world. 15 Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him, and he in God. 16 And we have known and believed the love that God has for us. God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him.17 Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness in the day of judgment; because as He is, so are we in this world.18 There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love.19 We love Him because He first loved us.

John 19:25-27; 21:24-25

25 Now there stood by the cross of Jesus His mother, and His mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26 When Jesus therefore saw His mother, and the disciple whom He loved standing by, He said to His mother, "Woman, behold your son!" 27 Then He said to the disciple, "Behold your mother!" And from that hour that disciple took her to his own home. 24 This is the disciple who testifies of these things, and wrote these things; and we know that his testimony is true. 25 And there are also many other things that Jesus did, which if they were written one by one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that would be written. Amen.

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristian #ancientfaith #spirituality #holyscriptures #gospel #sacredtexts #wisdom

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fakexface · 4 years

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Part 1

I don’t know if anyone remembers, but a few months back, I wrote out an entire AU where Rhaegar Targaryen survived, and how that ended up changing the series. So, here’s this. I’ll post it in 6 parts, because this is VERY long. But since it’s Targaryen Appreciation Month, I figured this would be a good time. After the Battle is where my own canon starts up, and it is where I begin to take a LOT of liberties. I don’t own Rhaegar or any of these characters, I did this purely for roleplay purposes and figured hey, I put in three weeks time on making this mesh well, why not share it? And if you do end up using any of the headcanons that I used in here, please reference back to these posts.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝓣𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝔀𝓮 𝓰𝓸 𝓽𝓸 𝔀𝓪𝓻; 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓰𝓸𝓭𝓼. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ •Prince Rhaegar was the firstborn son of King Aerys II Targaryen and Queen Rhaella. He was born at Summerhall in 259 AC, on the same day as the Great Tragedy there. As a child he read obsessively, to the point that jests were made about his habits. He became a noted warrior later in life, although he did not initially seem inclined to martial habits. However, apparently by something he had read, Rhaegar became motivated to become a warrior.

•At the age of seventeen, Rhaegar was knighted, and from all reports grew into a highly skilled and capable fighter, always distinguishing himself well at tournaments, although he seldom entered the lists - he never loved the song of swords the way that men like Robert Baratheon or Jaime Lannister did.

•Rhaegar's squires were Myles Mooton and Richard Lonmouth, and after he knighted them they remained close companions. Jon Connington, whom he had squired with, was a good friend to Rhaegar as well. Returning from a trip to Dorne, Rhaegar once visited the Connington seat of Griffin's Roost. His songs brought the castle's women to tears, while Lord Armond Connington sought House Targaryen's support against rival House Morrigen. Rhaegar's closest and oldest friend, however, was Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, trusting him more than Ser Barristan Selmy.

•Rhaegar often liked to visit the ruins of Summerhall with only his harp and when he returned he sang songs of such beauty they could reduce women to tears. Although Rhaegar was often dour, private and bookish, Cersei Lannister noted at the tournament in honor of Viserys's birth in Lannisport in 276 AC that the smallfolk cheered for Lord Tywin Lannister twice as much as for King Aerys II, but only half as loudly for Tywin as for Rhaegar. Rhaegar fought well in the tourney besting a dozen skilled knights, among them Barristan Selmy, Gerion, and Tygett Lannister but was defeated in the champion's tilt by his friend Arthur Dayne. Aerys refused Tywin's offer at the tourney to betroth Cersei to Rhaegar. Rhaegar defeated Arthur in the tourney at Storm's End.

•Rhaegar was born at a time when the Targaryen's had declined, and once he came of age, there was no sister, or anyone else of their bloodline, available for him to marry. King Aerys sent his first cousin, Lord Steffon Baratheon, to seek a bride for Rhaegar. Despite Valyrian blood still being present in Essos, Steffon could not find appropriate females of noble-enough birth for Rhaegar to wed.

•After this in early 279 AC, Rhaegar was formally betrothed to the Dornish princess, Elia Martell, the younger sister of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne. They married the following year in 280 AC, a lavish ceremony was held at the Great Sept of Baelor. His father did not attend the wedding as he was paranoid about an assassination attempt and nor did he permit the young Prince Viserys to attend. Rhaegar and his father's relationship was straining at this point, and he and his new bride took up residence on Dragonstone instead of King's Landing. Rhaegar and Elia had their first child, a girl named Rhaenys, in 280 AC. When the babe was presented at court, Rhaegar's mother, Queen Rhaella, embraced her grandchild warmly while King Aerys remarked: "she smells Dornish". The relationship between Aerys and Rhaegar became more and more estranged.

•Elia and Rhaegar had a son they named Aegon. Elia, due to her delicate health, was bed-ridden for half a year after giving birth to Rhaenys and nearly died giving birth to Aegon, after which the maesters told Rhaegar she would be unable to have any more children.

•Maester Aemon, whom Rhaegar corresponded with via raven messages, remembers that Rhaegar believed his child Aegon to be the prince that was promised.

•When Lord Tywin resigned his position as Hand of the King and left court, the new focus of King Aerys's mistrust and paranoia was his own son and heir, Prince Rhaegar. At court, there was growing tension between factions loyal to the king and to the prince. Grand Maester Pycelle dispatched a letter to the Citadel, writing that tensions and division at court strongly resembled those before the Dance of the Dragons. Pycelle was fearful a civil war would break out unless some accord could be reached that would satisfy both factions.

•In 280 AC, Lord Walter Whent announced a tourney would be held at Harrenhal to rival any previous tournament. It is believed by some that the tourney was secretly arranged and financed by Prince Rhaegar, as a pretext, so Rhaegar could meet up with the great lords of the realm to discuss arranging a Great Council and the removal of his father. The tournament was announced by Walter shortly after his brother, Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard, visited his older brother. When Lord Varys alerted Aerys II to this possibility, the king decided to attend the tourney.

•During the great tourney at Harrenhal, Rhaegar seemed unstoppable and defeated even Ser Arthur Dayne. Taking the winter rose crown for the queen of love and beauty, he revealed his interest in Lyanna Stark by passing over his wife, Princess Elia of Dorne, and setting it in Lyanna's lap. Eddard Stark later recalled that moment as "when all the smiles died". The next year, Rhaegar seemingly kidnapped Lyanna, for reasons unknown. This act ultimately triggered Robert's Rebellion and the downfall of the Targaryen dynasty.

•Some believe that Rhaegar spent the beginning of Robert's Rebellion, also known as the War of the Usurper, with Lyanna Stark at the tower of joy in the Red Mountains of Dorne. King Aerys sent Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, to retrieve Rhaegar. Leaving Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur Dayne, and Ser Oswell Whent at the tower, Rhaegar returned to the crownlands and took command of the Targaryen army after the defeat of his friend Jon Connington in the battle of the Bells. Ser Jaime Lannister was left at the Red Keep to protect Rhaegar's father and family.

•Rhaegar met Lord Robert Baratheon in combat at a ford during the battle of the Trident, where the pair had a legendary duel in the raging rivers of the Trident. Rhaegar, despite wounding Robert, was struck down with a massive blow from Robert's warhammer, which scattered the rubies encrusted in Rhaegar's armor into the water. Despite receiving a mortal wound, he survived. However, he was knocked unconscious, and thinking him dead, Robert left him.

•Upon waking, Rhaegar found himself alone. The wound had cut through his chest cleanly, baring bone. He could not remove his armor on his own; thus, he forced himself to his feet and half stumbled, half crawled to the nearest Inn- Crossroads Inn. The Innkeep, alarmed and confused, took Rhaegar in and did their best to patch him up. During all of this, his mother and Viserys were spirited away to Dragonstone Island while his father was slain upon his throne by Jaime Lannister. His wife and children were murdered by The Mountain, Gregor Clegane.

•Hearing this news, he laid low, keeping his head down and going as far as to color his hair with bricks of dye, darkening the ivory locks to a muddy blonde. He sold the few rubies that remained from his armor for safe (and secret) passage to Dragonstone. It had taken him nearly eight months to completely heal, in which he went by a false name and claimed he was a bastard- a Rivers. He’d learned of his former wife, Elia’s, death- of his children’s murder, of his father’s murder. Usurped by none other than Jaime Lannister.

•He arrived at Dragonstone the day of the great storm, where he bore witness to the birth of his sister, Daenerys. Try as he might, his mother bled far too much, and passed on due to the complicated birth. He, along with Viserys, Daenerys, and Ser WIllem Dary fled to the Free Cities. There, for fifteen years, they remained, being welcomed with open arms. Rhaegar, the true heir of the Iron Throne, was well sought-after by family after family; a twice-widowed Targaryen prince. He, along with his siblings, find solace with Magister Illyrio Mopatis, who allows them to live within his estate in the Free City of Pentos.

•He takes time to write in secret to Aemon Targaryen, a distant relative who is stationed on the Wall, having taken the Black long ago, requesting information- if any- on Ned Stark and the “bastard” that he has. Aemon responds that there is a new Bastard, but knows nothing more.

•This thus has Rhaegar writing and sending a raven to Ned Stark, explaining that yes, he is alive- his siblings live, as well. His mother perished, but they are alive, and in Essos, laying low. He requests that Ned look after Aegon and Lyanna, believing her to still be living.

•Ned writes back, simply stating that Lyanna died shortly after giving birth to Aegon, who Ned has taken in as his bastard and will be going by the name Jon Snow, and that he would not tell Jon of his true parentage until the time is right. Reading that Lyanna is dead breaks something in Rhaegar, and for a short time, he becomes melancholic and reclusive, refusing to speak or work on gaining favor with the families in Essos, grieving for Lyanna and Elia simultaneously- both women he loved, now dead.

•While the Dothraki screamers were a tempting alliance- he did not make one with them. No, instead, he let them be. Rather, he held a minor celebration for his youngest sibling, Daenerys- a coming of age celebration. Illyrio Mopatis brings forth a surprising gift- dragon’s eggs. Rhaegar questioned him on how he came to hold such treasures, but only received riddles in response. Ser Jorah Mormont, a knight of Westeros, brings books about the Seven Kingdoms and offers Rhaegar his service. Daenerys is given a beautiful white mare.

•That night, before beginning their journey across Essos, Daenerys requests a bath. Rather than waiting for it to cool, she enters it. Alarmed, the handmaiden fetches Rhaegar, claiming that his sister is going to hurt herself. Rather than be alarmed, Rhaegar is pleased- claiming simply that fire cannot kill a dragon. He later reveals that he himself prefers to take his baths beyond scalding temperature, for it soothes the phantom pains he holds in his chest. Viserys is the only one who disagrees.

•They begin the slow trek across Essos, coming into contact with the Dothraki unintentionally. Rhaegar makes is clear that they are merely traveling, explains who they are, and finds himself and his companions brought before the Great Khal himself, Khal Drogo. The situation, while tense, plays out in their favor: Rhaegar manages to convince the Khal to allow them to travel with the Dothraki, just through the Grass Sea.

•During their travels, Rhaegar keeps Daenerys under strict guard, ordering Jorah to keep her with him at all times. While he did not want to assume, he also did not want anything to happen to his baby sister. He himself rode near the Khal often; a quick learner, he was able to pick up the language surprisingly fast, well enough to hold a simple conversation or ask simple questions. Doreah, a handmaid gifted to them for Daenerys, grows close to Viserys during this time.

•During one of the final nights they would be riding with the Dothraki, Rhaegar approaches Daenerys with an idea. The eggs, while they may be stone, might be opened- with fire. At first, Daenerys assumes he means for her to simply place the eggs in the fire, until he speaks a common phrase amongst the Targaryens: fire cannot kill a dragon. Viserys claims that his older brother has gone insane. Rhaegar does not reply. Instead, he watches as his baby sister strides into the flames, holding two eggs- the final being held by Rhaegar himself. He remembered having read in a book long ago, before the Sack of King’s Landing, how a dragon’s egg would be bathed in flame before hatching.

•Lo and behold, he was right. And behind his sister he strode confidently through the flames. While she hatched two dragons, a vivid black and red and a vermillion and gold, he came through with the final one: a gold and red dragon.

𝐒𝐞𝐚��𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐰𝐨 •They depart from one another after traversing the Grass Sea; the Dothraki to Vaes Dothrak, and Rhaegar and company to Qarth with their new dragons. Viserys, acting as scribe for Rhaegar, documents this occasion in detail. Their arrival to Qarth is not as welcoming as Rhaegar had expected. The Thirteen, the ruling council, refuse them entry unless they show their dragons- which Rhaegar and Daenerys both vehemently refuse to do.

•When it seems she will be turned away, the Qartheen dignitary Xaro Xhoan Daxos vouches for them and their people, against the order of the Spice King.

•Rhaegar and his surviving people are made guests in Xaro's lavish home. Slowly, he and Daenerys begin to teach their dragons to cook and eat their own meat, and slowly begin breathing fire on command. Rhaegar seeks out any sort of information he could find in the form of books or old scriptures. Daenerys suggests to Doreah that she use her skill as a lover to find out more about Xaro, who happily agrees. Their host holds a reception for the Targaryen siblings, introducing them to Pyat Pree of the Warlocks of Qarth. He demonstrates his magic by replicating himself and invites Daenerys alone to visit his order at the House of the Undying. Rhaegar does not approve of this, though Daenerys does not listen.

•Xaro suggests that Ser Jorah has feelings for Daenerys but she denies this. Xaro shows the siblings the Valyrian stone vault that guards his fortune and offers to fund their return to Westeros in exchange for Daenerys’ hand in marriage. He relays news of the death of King Robert Baratheon. Rhaegar secretly revels in the joy of this information. Daenerys seeks the council of Ser Jorah and Rhaegar. She is eager to seize the opportunity, but both men counsel against entering Xaro's debt. Jorah reveals the depth of his feeling for her and his hope for the ruler that she will become. She agrees to take the harder path that he suggests, but does not acknowledge his affection. Rhaegar becomes troubled with this knowledge, but does not speak to Jorah about his feelings.

•Later, Rhaegar, Daenerys, and Viserys try to negotiate with the Spice King for ships to return to Westeros. However, he considers it to be too risky an investment – considering that they have no army and no open supporters in Westeros – and they receive nothing. Rhaegar states that he will take what is rightfully theirs with Fire and Blood, but the Spice King remarks they will have to do it without his ships.

•Daenerys, Rhaegar, and Viserys unsuccessfully appeal to more of the merchant nobles of Qarth to lend them ships. After meeting with them, they return to Xaro's home to find that it has been attacked; half of their men have been brutally murdered, and Doreah and the dragons are missing. Unbeknown to them, Doreah has taken their dragons to the House of the Undying, due to an alliance with Xaro and Pyat Pree.

•Xaro hosts a council of the Thirteen so Rhaegar, Viserys, and Daenerys can appeal to them for aid. During the meeting, Pyat Pree reveals that he was responsible and Xaro announces his intention to seize control of the city, as the new King of Qarth. The warlock uses his magic, creating thirteen duplicates to murder the rest of the Thirteen. Rhaegar draws his blade, intent on fighting, though Viserys convinces him to flee with himself and Dany. However, Pyat Pree appears to them, only to be stabbed through the back by Jorah. The stabbed Pyat is revealed to be another one of the duplicates. He repeats his invitation to Daenerys, telling her that her children are at the House of the Undying.

•They take refuge in a disused courtyard, where Jorah advises Daenerys and Rhaegar to leave their dragons and flee Qarth, as he has recently booked passage to Astapor. Daenerys insists on attempting to reclaim them and asks Ser Jorah to lead her to the House of the Undying, without knowing what lies in wait. Rhaegar agrees, stating that he and Viserys will create a diversion for them.

•Daenerys arrives at House of the Undying and is magically separated from Jorah and Kovarro. She finds herself in an empty circular room with many doors.

•She chooses one and opens it. She is presented with tempting visions. First the snowy, ruined throne room of King's Landing where she turns away from the Iron Throne. She then walks through the gates of the Wall surrounded by more snow, and into a tent. She finds Khal Drogo and what could have been her infant son Rhaego. They talk about whose dream they are in, and Daenerys silently leaves after touching Rhaego's hair.

•Meanwhile, Rhaegar and Viserys are causing chaos, fighting against a few of Xaro’s men before Rhaegar tells Viserys to go after Daenerys, that he has a bad feeling. Viserys agrees and leaves, which leaves Rhaegar to fight against three men.

•In the meantime, Daenerys returns to the room with many doors and finds the dragons chained to a pedestal in front of her. Pyat Pree appears and explains that she and her brood are the source of his restored magic. Daenerys is also chained by Pyat's magic. The young Targaryen is unconcerned however, and simply regards Pree with a cool, almost lazy gaze. She calmly utters a single word: "Dracarys"; after a couple of tries, all three dragons unleash their fiery breath, and Pyat Pree is incinerated.

•Daenerys knows that Xaro has betrayed them. She finds Viserys outside of the House of the Undying, and together, they return to Xaro’s palace to confront him. Rhaegar joins them shortly after, wounded but not mortally. They return and find Doreah in bed with him. Daenerys takes his key and uses it to open his Valyrian stone vault. They are surprised when it is empty, but observes that this proves something can easily come from nothing. Rhaegar suggested that Doreah be executed for her treason against the Targaryen crown. Daenerys disagreed. On Daenerys’s orders, Doreah and Xaro are locked into the empty vault to die, their pleas cut off by the closing door. Daenerys salvages enough from Xaro's household to buy a ship. The siblings seize Xaro's gold and jewels; no one attempts to stop them, not with the dragons that rest upon Daenerys and Rhaegar’s shoudlers.

•Rhaegar states that he wishes to travel farhter across Essos soon; there is a company of soldiers who were formed beneath a bastard of Aegon Targaryen that they could use in retaking their homeland. Rhaegar also brings a select few soldiers from Qarth that served beneath Xaro, the beginnings of an army.

#Rhaegar Targaryen #rhaegar lives au #house targaryen #game of thrones #game of thrones au #my writing #fakexface writing #this is 10 pages in word #but it was FUN

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by Rhonda Moffit, Moffits-Mad Hatter Adventures March, 2020

With such very busy lives, every so often we love to unwind with a weekend adventure. This recharges our batteries and allows us to find inspiration and appreciation that propels us into the forthcoming work week and beyond. Our most recent weekend adventure took us to Martin’s childhood, as his relatives lived in Hannibal, Missouri, when he was a boy. He, much like Tom Sawyer and creator Mark Twain, ran around this historic Mississippi River town as a youngster having fun and learning life’s early lessons. What many do not realize is the incredible history of this locale….so read on and see what we discovered.

One of the places that I, Rhonda, book for our clients that visit Hannibal that has had great reviews is the Garth Woodside Mansion Bed and Breakfast. We were anxious to check this place out for ourselves.

John Garth and Helen Kercheval were married on October 18, 1860. They had two children, John David and Annie. Sometime after the Civil War broke out, in 1862 or 1863, Garth moved his family to New York City. There he was engaged in banking, brokerage, and manufacturing. They returned to Hannibal in 1871, and Garth started a successful business career. Garth purchased a farm southwest of Hannibal and constructed his Italianate Second Empire summer residence about a mile outside of the hustling city in 1871, which he named “Woodside”. On the farm he raised and bred shorthorn and Jersey cattle.

As a businessman Garth entered many ventures. He was one of the organizers of the Farmers and Merchants Bank and served as its first vice-president. He became president in 1880, a position he held until near his death in 1899. He was also president of the Hannibal Lime Company, president of the Missouri Guarantee Savings and Building Association, and president of the Garth Lumber Company in Delta, Michigan. His wife and daughter funded several memorials to him, including the Garth Memorial Library Building, dedicated in 1902, and a tower and set of bells at the Trinity Episcopal Church.

Son John perished at the age of 21, sadly, while he was undergoing an appendectomy. Family photos adorn the walls of Woodside.

Samuel Langhorne Clemens, better known by his pen name of Mark Twain, not only grew up in Hannibal but had multiple visits back to visit friends during his lifetime. One of his childhood friends was in fact John Garth. Samuel Clemens visited Woodside on several occasions, preferring to stay with his friends. He had his own particular favorite bedroom in the house and spent many hours laughing with the family in the downstairs parlor. When he published Life on the Mississippi, Clemens sent the Garths a copy. John Garth replied, “Thanks for the book. Each and every one at Woodside has enjoyed it greatly.” A note from Clemens to his manager requested a copy of Huckleberry Finn to be sent to the Garths upon its release. John Garth died in 1899.

There have only been six owners of the mansion since it was built, and most all of the original furnishings are still used. This brings me to the beds. Oh, the beds! This particular bed is valued at $55,000, being one of the most valuable in the United States. It is said that Mark Twain slept in this bed and the hand carved craftsmanship is beautiful. Other furnishings are original to the house as well, and it is truly like stepping back in time. Because Woodside has changed owners so infrequently, many of the belongings of the Garth family remain. The current innkeepers/owners (very friendly!) allowed us to roam the entire house and grounds and we were able to see everything the house has to offer, which is a lot.

After exploring the mansion and visiting with the llamas (resident livestock), we ventured into downtown Hannibal and decided to eat at the Mark Twain Dinette. Martin regaled me with tales of when he was sent by family to the Dinette to buy and bring home a jug of their homemade root beer. They have made the root beer onsite since going into business over 76 years ago, and it does not disappoint! If you visit, you should try one of their pork tenderloin sandwiches- it is enormous and one of the main dishes that they are known for.

After dinner, Martin walked me around the Mark Twain historic buildings- my own private tour.

It was fantastic. We then journeyed the short drive back to Woodside and enjoyed the rest of the night with complimentary wine, a fireplace, and a large jetted tub that I really wish I could bring home with me.

The next morning, we were provided a yummy breakfast and had some wonderful conversation with other guests. There are cottages at the rear of the property and they provide a beautiful view and private hot tubs on their decks. These are quite popular, and from what I gleaned from conversation with the others many like to return a couple times a year just to rejuvenate.

The next part of our adventure took us to Lover’s Leap. The views from this historic location are remarkable, and it was a beautiful day to behold.

Next, we traversed to Mark Twain Cave.

Made famous in Mark Twain’s writing, this location is the real deal. They offer tours, so of course we were all in. We went 250 feet below ground and saw everything we could see in the miles of tunnels made of limestone. Samuel Clemens even signed the cave wall when he was young- if you look in the center of the following image you can see “Clemens“.

Many, many people have been to the cave over the years- here I am, wandering around trying to get a feel for it- and loving every minute.

There are over 260 passageways, and it is easy to get turned around in the labyrinth. There is also a “marriage rock” within that has a story. There was a woman who discovered one of her ancestors had signed the cave wall and she had her wedding in the cave under the signature as an homage to the relation. Also look carefully in the photos for the signature from 1865. There are so many echoes from the past.

The Mark Twain Cave was discovered in the winter of 1819 when Jack Sims tracked a panther into what appeared to be a small den. He later discovered it was an extensive underground network. Twain included a lot of the cave in his book “Tom Sawyer”, as he found it to be a true source of inspiration as a child. He and friends used to light candles and enter the cave to explore it. The “Discovery” entrance is the original entrance (green sign) that was used, as you can see in the image.

Also notable:

Joseph Nash McDowell – He bought the cave in 1848 and was the owner during Mark Twain’s childhood. He is infamous for putting his recently deceased daughter into a copper cylinder and placing the cylinder in the back of his cave hoping to further his theory of human petrification. When Hannibal residents learned of this act, they begged him to remove her and bury her as was deemed proper.

Here is an image of where both McDowell’s daughter’s corpse was stored and where Jesse James placed his signature in the cave.

Jesse James — After a botched robbery attempt he hid out in Tennessee. In 1879 he decided to head for Independence, MO to assemble a new gang. On his way through, he signed his name in the Mark Twain Cave which is dated September 22, 1879, sixteen days before he robbed a train in Independence with his new crew, and only three years before his death.

The cave was a remarkable adventure and we spent a lot of time exploring it.

Also in Hannibal is the home of the “Unsinkable” Molly Brown. Molly was born in this house just a few blocks away from the home of Mark Twain. Margaret Tobin Brown was an activist and survivor of the Titanic. Born in 1867, she was the daughter of Irish immigrants. In her lifetime, she and her husband rocketed to fame during the Gold Rush. In a lifeboat as the RMS Titanic sank, Molly shared layers of clothing and urged others to survive the disaster. She used her status to inspire others to fight for children’s and worker’s rights for the remainder of her life.

For all of us Disney fans, Hannibal is also a special place. It is the birthplace of voice actor and musician Cliff Edwards, better known as the voice of Pinnochio’s Jiminy Cricket. Edwards was born in Hannibal and left school at the age of 14 to move to St. Louis. He taught himself to play the ukulele, choosing it because he said it was the cheapest instrument in the music shop. He was nicknamed “Ukulele Ike” by a club owner that could never recall his actual name, and it stuck.

Hannibal has so many stories, and there is so much to do and to see. If you visit between April and November you can even take a riverboat cruise on the Mississippi courtesy of the Mark Twain- they even offer dinner cruises. We plan on returning again soon, and before we departed, we returned to the Mark Twain Dinette to grab a root beer for the road. OK, we actually bought a case to take home. What a wonderful getaway!

Hope you enjoy sharing our adventures- be sure to give us a like, a comment, or at least have a drink of this fabulous root beer next time you are in Hannibal for us!

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A $55,000 Bed, Mark Twain, Jiminy Cricket, Jesse James, Root Beer and Spelunking- It’s A Weekend Getaway Adventure to Hannibal, Missouri by Rhonda Moffit, Moffits-Mad Hatter Adventures March, 2020 With such very busy lives, every so often we love to unwind with a weekend adventure.

#Cliff Edwards #Garth Woodside Mansion #Hannibal #Jesse James #Mark Twain #Mark Twin Cave #missouri

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