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penguinkinggames · 3 years

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“Cerebos: The Crystal City” Actual Play Part III: The End

This is the third and final entry in a series of posts recounting a session of actual play from Cerebos: the Crystal City, currently crowdfunding on Kickstarter. The first two parts can be found here:

https://tumblr.penguinking.com/post/646498084013195264

https://tumblr.penguinking.com/post/646788426842128384

This session was conducted on March 20th, 2021, with Matthew Dorbin as GM, and Amelia Gorman, Ashley Flanagan, Will Mendoza, and Kevin Snow playing. The events of play were recorded by Zach Welhouse.

The First Leg of the journey has ended, and the Lady in Blue is the Seeker. She remembers her past: she was a small-time crook who left the City by the Sea to kill her murderous, thieving sister. Having pieced together her past, she has until arriving at Cerebos to decide if she still wants to kill the Lady in Red.

The Unqualified Robot, Tinderling, and the Lonesome Seafarer won’t find the answers they were looking for in Cerebos. However, they’ve ridden the rails with the Lady in Blue long enough they may have learned something else. Aiding her in her journey may clarify their own futures.

Tinderling and the Unqualified Robot hope the Lady in Blue will kill her sister. Actions have consequences and violence is sometimes necessary to restore balance. The Lonesome Seafarer has had enough pain. She hopes the Lady in Blue will be able to move on – or find common ground with the woman who did her wrong.

Sixth Round of Train Actions

Tinderling notices an enormous marble building in the distance. From its Greek pillars and statues of Justice, it’s probably a courthouse. None of the travellers are on especially great terms with the law, but the train stops anyway. This journey isn’t just about them. There are other passengers too! A trial is in session when the passengers arrive, and it requires four jurors. As outsiders, the travelers are unbiased. Wigged functionaries encourage them to attend the day’s arguments. It’s the trial of Hodur, Norse god of winter and accidental murderer of Baldr. Baldr is testifying when the jury enters: “My death was absolutely necessary! My death was all part of a larger plan!” He cites Romulus & Remus, Osiris & Set, and other famous examples of fratricide. Sometimes a death is necessary for the greater good.

Tinderling’s player spends 1 Momentum to create a Danger 2 Stop as a Saintly Revelation. She doesn’t want to make the journey to Cerebos more difficult for anybody, but she does present the Lady in Blue with an argument to stay the course.

As with the previous Stop, the other travelers should have received a Train Action before arriving at the courthouse. The GM had been keeping an eye on the clock and made an executive decision to ensure the trains kept running on time. The whole session, including several snack breaks, fit into a four-hour session with only fifteen minutes of overflow!

Stop Actions: The Trial of Hodur

The Unqualified Robot has decided to Seize the Opportunity to divest itself of its past wares. It is defined by actions now, not junky gadgets. It offers gadget after gadget from its backpack to passing barristers, seeking some way to communicate. It rolls a Success and scores a giant foam finger with “FRATRICIDE” written on it. The new jury is fitting in with the trial, so the Danger reduces to 1.

The Lonesome Seafarer waits for a lull in the trial and vaults out of the jury box to cross-examine Hodur: “Did you mean to kill Baldr?” She rolls 1 + 5 = 6, but spends a rank of Tunnel Vision to really focus on the heart of the matter and eliminate all obstacles. The rerolled 1 becomes a 5, netting the Lonesome Seafarer an Inspired Success -- and one Momentum to her authoritative hat for rolling doubles! Hodur begins to weep under the incisive questioning: “I could never have done it if I had known! Even if I had to for a better future, I couldn’t kill my brother!” The Stop Danger is reduced to 0. Had Tinderling paid an extra Momentum while setting up the Stop, the Unqualified Robot or the Lonesome Seafarer would have received a keepsake for their efforts.

Tinderling, disgusted by Hodur’s breakdown, starts carving something rude in the juror’s box with her bird bone sewing needle. She’s learning that she’s really into this justified violence thing. How come these people don’t understand progress is impossible without sacrifice? She rolls to Release the Touchstone – a symbol of peace – and succeeds. The needle snaps. She burns with clarity and gains one Contemplation.

The Lady in Blue isn’t in danger. She rests, shakes hands with a few visiting gods, and loads up on jury cookies. She removes one Momentum.

The court is in an uproar over Hodur’s outburst. The travelers aren’t interested in being further embroiled in someone else’s problems, so they sneak out back and return to the train.

Sixth Round of Train Actions (Continued)

The Lonesome Seafarer triggers a Revelation to counter Tinderling’s full-throated endorsement of fratricide. Two high-pitched voices begin shouting from the next car: “I hate you! I wish you weren’t my sister anymore!” The fight spills over into the travellers’ car as two six-year-old girls shove and cry into each other. It’s a Danger 2 Event demonstrating that just because siblings fight doesn’t mean they have to be enemies.

The Unqualified Robot triggers its Saintly Revelation. Since leaving the courtroom, it has been busy building an effigy – a new sibling – from its unsold junk and extraneous body parts. If it can’t communicate with people, maybe something closer to its temperament will do the trick. Calamity strikes! After a disagreement, the Robot and its twin begin to fight. Encouraged by the violence they’ve recently observed, it escalates. Presumably the twin was at fault. The Robot’s player explains, “I think the moral here is the danger siblings hold and how they must be destroyed.” The Robot Battle Event is Danger 5, threatening to strip the train to its bones. Luckily, Cerebos is in sight!

Since the Saints and Demons have introduced their Revelations, it’s time for the Endgame. Cerebos arrives! Its towering spires of crystal and neon illuminate the night. Squabbling siblings, a pair of robots engaged in an all-out hurly burly, and passengers who have begun to take sides pour from the train, attracting the attention of a number of station agents armed with stern frowns and truncheons.

Normally, the gates of Cerebos are a Danger 2 Stop, but the unresolved Events from the train boost it to a worrying Danger 4.

Stop Actions: The Gates of Cerebos

Tinderling stands on a barrel and fans the flames of animosity, pulling unrelated passers-by into the fight: “Hey! This is what happens when you have an evil twin. Monsters are monsters and they don’t change!” She Causes Trouble to boost the Stop to Danger 6 and extend the scene. Everyone receives an extra cycle of Stop Actions.

The Lonesome Seafarer also trusts her words to address the growing riot, arguing for peace. She draws on the harsh lessons she learned from Scurvy, her missing mate: “You have to give people a chance to change!” It’s like shouting into a storm. Fists and rocks fly as she takes Damage, her words unheeded.

The Unqualified Robot briefly breaks free from its apocalyptic struggle with its evil twin. These… emotions are just holding it back. It tries to Release its last remaining expression slide, a smiley face defaced by angry eyebrows. An Ugly Break. Communication is easy when it involves throwing things. It gains Momentum on its whiskey flask and gains Contemplation. It thanks Tinderling for introducing the path of rage.

The Lady in Blue lays into the fray with elbows and right hooks, clearing people away from the Unqualified Robot. They’ve shared whiskey. Everyone just needs to stand back. She takes Damage and reduces the Danger to 4.

Tinderling is taken aback at the chaos she has unleashed. It was all going so well, but the Unqualified Robot is taking a lot of hits. It’s burning too bright! She Seizes an Opportunity and starts laying into station police and onlookers alike. Even spending Burns at Both Ends to flare up like a hero, she takes Damage to reduce the Danger to 3.

The Lonesome Seafarer pushes through the thinning crowd of combatants to the main event: robot vs. robot. She engages the evil twin with watertight logic and the Coat of Thesus Trait: “That robot is made out of your same parts! Why would you fight yourself? That’s not fratricide. That’s suicide!” After a string of unlucky rerolls, she ekes out a Partial Success, taking Damage while wrestling the Evil Twin off the Unqualified Robot. Danger 2.

The Unqualified Robot scrambles back, throwing everything in reach at its evil twin: unsold junk, garbage, rocks. It’s not enough. The only way to end this is to carry its actions to their logical conclusion. The Unqualified Robot tears off its head and flings it at the effigy. The effigy, stunned by the extreme act of violence (and the high-velocity assault) explodes. Danger 1.

The Lady in Blue needs a moment. Watching her travel companion tear off its head to kill its sibling is a lot. Battered passengers and station police slink off. A siren wails in the distance. The Lady in Blue turns to the squabbling children from the train, who stayed focused on one another the whole time the battle raged around them. “Kids. Let’s talk. What happened?” she asks. The sisters explain a very long, very important story that involves teasing and boysenberry (or possibly poisonberry) tea. It is ridiculous. The Lady in Blue sighs long and deep. “It’s not like I’m not already headed to Hell. Try this, kids. This is what real poison tastes like.” She offers them each a sip of whiskey, transferring their animosity to her as they taste the rough, foul drink. Two-vs-one isn’t fair, but the Lady in Blue weathers their coughing and shin-kicking. Failure. The Lady in Blue takes stress Damage and the round ends: “I solved a fight between two children and I feel terrible about it.”

Epilogue

Tinderling, the Lonesome Seafarer, and the Lady in Blue walk the backstreets of Cerebos. They don’t glisten with empyrean light like the main thoroughfares, but neither are they patrolled by gendarmes searching for whoever it was who started the brawl at the train station.

The Lady in Blue takes out her revolver, spins the cylinder, and stares down the barrel. She pops out the last bullet, sheathes her gun, and leaves her fellow travelers. She has chosen the Devil’s Path, deviating from her initial goal thanks – in a strong part – to the tragic brutality of the Unqualified Robot.

Everybody looks at their goals, laughing at the fresh round of revelations. The only thing left to do now is tally up Momentum and Contemplation to make epilogue rolls.

The Unqualified Robot died doing what it loved: throwing something. The end. No moral.

Tinderling is a member of the Walking Wounded, unable to settle down in Cerebos, which seems just as bad for workers as the City by the Sea. Nevertheless, she’s gained a newfound appreciation for robot rights. Before leaving for Cerebos, robots were machines, jerks, and scabs to Tinderling. But the Unqualified Robot taught her that treating robots like tools would only lead to calamity. Maybe her redemption lies in solidarity with all workers...

The Lonesome Seafarer’s epilogue roll is similar to Tinderling’s. Scurvy isn’t in Cerebos, but she’s found moderating influences elsewhere: “That robot ripping its own head off has taught me some valuable things about myself.” She still hopes to find her missing mate someday, but it isn’t quite the obsession it once was. In the meantime, she’ll keep traveling.

The Lady in Blue rolls a 4: Self-Actualization! She acknowledges the wrong the Lady in Red did to her, but finds peace in putting aside revenge. She’ll live her own life, not one controlled by a further descent into bloodshed. Strolling the streets of Cerebos, she sees Tinderling passing out leaflets and the Lonesome Seafarer inspecting a ship-in-a-bottle in a shop window. She feels a fondness for the Lonesome Sea Captain, perhaps from the adventures they’ve had or perhaps because it was she who first directed the Lady in Blue to Cerebos. “Captain,” says the Lady in Blue, taking the captain’s arm. “How do you feel about having a whiskey with me?” “I’ve only had grog before,” the Lonesome Seafarer hazards. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

The Lady in Blue and the Lonesome Seafarer walk through the electric streets, arm-in-arm, in search of drinks.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #cerebos #kickstarter #violence mention #food mention #alcohol mention #death mention

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violetrose-art · 3 years

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Corpse Bride Headcannons, Theories, and Ideas

This is just a list of the theories, headcannons, and ideas I came up with for Tim Burton's Corpse Bride. I might add more later on, so watch out

-Victor and Victoria were born and raised in a small English village close to the Atlantic Ocean called Burtonsville

-Victor’s full name is Victor Ichabod Van Dort

-When he was about four years old, Victor found Scraps as a mixed-breed puppy in an alleyway. Nell and William refused at first, but William saw how his son quickly became attached to the dog, so he let him stay. Sadly, when Victor turned eight, Scraps was brutally mauled and tragically killed while trying to defend his beloved owner from a bigger, nastier dog

-Victor’s favorite toy as a child was a stuffed horse he called Usher. He begged his mother to let him keep Usher until he was fourteen

-Victor learned to play the piano when he was about five years old. He was a fast learner and he picked up on it very quickly, and his tutor was greatly impressed by his skill. His favorite musicians are Mozart and Beethoven

-Victor works as an artist to draw many types of butterflies for the Lepidoptera Community, as well as a professional pianist. Originally, his father wanted him to work as a fish merchant and take over the family business, but Victor politely told him “no thanks” because he wanted to follow his own dreams. William was disappointed, but deep down he wanted his son to be happy. So he usually encouraged him, especially when Nell wasn’t around

-Outside from his butterfly works, Victor does paintings during his free time at home. The color theory that he studied was written by Eugene De La Croix· Victor has been drawing since he was a child. His favorite things to draw are animals, butterflies, and other insects. He also does landscapes and people sometimes. He also likes to write sometimes, mostly a few poems and a couple musical compositions. Nothing he took too seriously, though. He also likes to sing when he thinks he’s alone

-In his childhood, Victor used to have a somewhat regular playmate named Humphrey. They were almost friends, but when William’s business became very successful and Victor’s family became rich when Victor was about eleven, Humphrey stopped coming over and the two boys haven’t seen each other since

-When he was a boy, he learned how to speak French because his mother thought it was “high-class” to be bilingual. Victor was diligent in his studies and thus has a good knowledge of spoken and written French. He may not be perfectly fluent, but he can carry on a decent conversation

-Victor is severely allergic to walnuts and poison oak

-Victor had a cousin named Mary whom he was very fond of, but she passed away when she was seventeen and he was six. She got lost in the woods and was attacked and devoured by a pack of wolves

-Victor doesn’t drink anything more than the occasional glass of champagne or wine. The reason? Mayhew once got him drunk and it turns out Victor is a CHATTY drunk. As in, he’ll tell you his life story at the slightest provocation. Victor was so embarrassed when he sobered up that he nearly swore off all alcohol forever. It’s very unlikely he’ll ever knowingly get wasted again· After he and Victoria were finally married, Victor gained confidence and he stood up against Victoria's parents earning him some respect

-Victor HATES smoking. He was secretly offered a cigarette from Mayhew when he was fourteen and after the first inhale, he was coughing and gagging so much that he nearly threw up

-Victor is the tallest member of the Van Dort family, making him stand out quite a bit during family reunions

-He may not be a sporty person, but Victor enjoys cycling. He also loves a good game of chess

-Victor adores reading. His favorite writers are William Blake, Charles Baudelaire, Lewis Carroll, Edgar Allan Poe, and William Shakespeare

His favorite books are “Les Miserables”, “Dracula”, “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, “The Fall of the House of Usher” and other works by E.A. Poe. The play/book that he hates the most is “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” because he strongly dislikes this style of a love triangle in the plot line. He also has a fascination with penny dreadful. Yes, he knows the serial stories are really nothing but lowest common denominator trash, but he loves them anyway. He got hooked on them as a teenager thanks to Mayhew’s nephew, and he used to keep a secret stash under his mattress

-When she still rather young, Victor noticed that his daughter, Emily, became very interested in music, so he taught her how to play the piano as well as the violin

-Victoria was the one who taught her son, Edward, how to read and they bond over books and stories they both enjoy

-The worst day of Victor’s life happened about three weeks after Scraps died. Victor’s parents had some business friends over for tea, and forced a still-grieving Victor to come down and be social. Poor Victor made a bad impression, being quieter and clumsier than normal, culminating in knocking over one man, tripping his wife, and insulting said wife’s coat in apologizing. Nell, humiliated and enraged, turned on her son once the guests were off, screaming at him about what an embarrassment he was while they were still standing on the front steps. Victor was so horrified, embarrassed, and depressed that he came too close to taking his own life. He got his hands on his father’s straight-razor, snuck into the bathroom, and actually had it to his neck when a noise from outside the bathroom spooked him and he dropped the razor and ran back to his room as fast as he could. Fortunately, the distraction gave him time to realize suicide wouldn’t fix anything, and he made a promise to himself never to stoop that low again. His parents also apologized the next day, which helped a lot. Victor avoids telling anyone about it unless he feels he has to, certain they’ll think less of him for it

-Victor was born June 9th, 1867

-Victoria’s full name is Victoria Elizabeth Everglot

-When she was very little, Victoria had always wanted a pet (like a cat or a small dog) but her mother said that having a pet in the house was uncivilized and improper and that all animals were filthy and uncouth creatures

-Victoria’s favorite hobby is sewing and knitting. She often designs most of her husband’s clothes and others in her spare time

-As a child, Victoria tried to be closer to her parents, but often found the family maid Hildegarde as more of a mother figure

-Victoria loves to read in her spare time… even though most people call it scandalous for a woman to do such a thing. Her mother even said reading was too passionate for a young lady. At a young age, Hildegarde, taught Victoria how to read (something her parents never found out about)

-Her favorite books are “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, “A Christmas Carol”, and any classic fairy tale. And her favorite writers are Charles Dickens, Lewis Carroll, Charles Perrault, Hans Christian Andersen, and the Brothers Grimm

-Victoria’s favorite toy as a child was a china doll she called Miss Liddie. By the time she was about eleven, she had grown out of it. Even though she knows she’s too old for toys now, she still misses Miss Liddie

-Victoria isn’t allergic to anything, but she does tend to sneeze if dust is in the air

-When she was a little girl, Victoria was nearly trampled by a horse-drawn carriage, which made her develop a slight fear of horses

-Victoria likes to sing whenever she thinks she’s alone. She doesn’t believe it, but she has a surprisingly lovely singing voice

-When she was a little girl, Victoria was entranced by the piano in her house and she immediately wanted to learn how to play but her mother had told her daughter many times that music was improper and too passionate for a young lady. But Victor always tells his wife that music is a wonderful way to express oneself and that he would be more than happy to teach her how to play

-Victoria used to have a regular playmate named Gwyneth in her girlhood. They were good friends, but when Victoria reached her pre-teen years, Gwyneth stopped coming over to play for some reason and she never heard from her since

-Victoria is the most beautiful member of the Everglot family

-When she was in her early teens, Victoria secretly dreamed of becoming a writer someday

-Victoria was born February 3rd, 1868

-Victor and Victoria had two children. Their names are Emily Alice Van Dort (age 15) and Edward Daniel Van Dort (age 10)

-When Victor and Victoria were married, they moved out of their parents houses and bought a beautiful two story house that sat at the edge of a large meadow that was right next to the forest… plus, the house was a good mile or so away from Burtonsville

-The Corpse Bride’s full name is Emily Charlotte Cartwell

-Emily was born into a wealthy family. Her parents, Lord and Lady Cartwell, couldn’t say ‘no’ to their daughter and they practically gave her everything she asked for, so she became incredibly spoiled, selfish, and incredibly naïve· Emily was a hopeless romantic, often spending time reading romance novels and daydreaming about her wedding when she was alive

-When she was alive, Emily was blonde

-When she made it to Heaven, Emily was finally reunited with her mother and father

-When their daughter disappeared, Lord and Lady Cartwell were so sad and depressed that they wasted away and passed away in their sleep

-Before ascending, Emily considered Bonejangles to be one of her best friends. They used to sing and dance together all the time. He even taught her how to play the piano

-When she was alive, Emily knew how to ride horses. She even had a pet white mare she called Aphrodite

-Emily Cartwell died at age eighteen

-Lord Barkis’s full name is Barkis Finbar Campbell Bittern

-Emily met Lord Barkis while she was on an outing with her parents. Her parents had their backs turned while Emily was talking with Barkis. After only a few minutes of talking, she was instantly smitten with him and she accepted his immediate proposal of marriage… and her mother and father were not happy about it at all. Emily and her father had a huge fight and she decided to elope with Barkis… but for her, it didn’t go as planned

-Barkis told her that if they were going to be together, they would need money. Emily wasn’t sure, but in the end, she agreed

-On the night she was running away, Emily stole not only her mother’s wedding dress, veil, gloves, and best shoes, but she also stole the jewels from her mother’s jewelry box and a large bag of gold from her father’s office

-As Emily was waiting for her fiancé that night, Barkis snuck up behind her, stabbed her, knocked her out cold, took all of her money and jewels, and buried her alive. She woke up in a shallow grave and tried to claw her way out before suffocating to death. That's why her hand was sticking out of the ground

-Barkis was married six times in his life. He and his first wife were married out of love until he found her cheating on him and killed her. The second was an elderly widow for her money. The third one got away before he could even hurt her, but she drowned herself in a deep, rushing river. The fourth was a drunken lonely woman who “accidentally” fell out of a two story window. The fifth being Emily and the sixth being Victoria

-In the Land of The Dead, Barkis was brutally beaten and ripped apart before he was imprisoned in an iron coffin chained seven feet underground with other criminals like him for all eternity

-After he ran away, Barkis studied linguistics in French, Latin, German, and Russian in order to impress others… or use different fake accents to fool them with

-Barkis’s original first name was Bradford and he had a rough upbringing. His father was a violent alcoholic and his mother was a reckless prostitute and they both abused Bradford as a child until he ran away from home at age sixteen and changed his name to Lord Barkis

-Barkis has a twin sister who had a son named Hector. Hector greatly looked up to his uncle and when he heard about what happened to Barkis, he was taken aback, but he also felt he could use that to his advantage. When he turned 30, Hector came to Burtonsville to exact revenge on the Van Dort family… but he also developed a vile infatuation with Emily. Whenever he tries to woo the young girl (which always fails since Emily finds him repulsive and cruel), Victor gladly steps in the way every time and he always sternly tells Hector to stay away from his daughter

-Mrs. Van Dort’s full name is Eleanor Minerva Fitzackley Van Dort

-Nell came from a lower class family. She lived with her father, mother, and three sisters. However, Nell wasn’t happy with her place in society and she wanted to became something more

-Nell and William first met when she was caught in the rain one stormy day and he offered her a ride home in his fish merchant carriage. She declined at first, but quickly gave in when it started to bucket down. As they rode together, they started chatting and soon became very interested in one another

-Nell and William made their way back to the village just in time to witness Emily's soul disappear into the night as a swarm of blue butterflies

-When she learned about Mayhew’s death, Nell quietly wept in her room about it. She might be overbearing, but deep down, she truly does care for the ones closest to her. She also adores her husband and son, even if she does find them a bit irritating. She just has a hard time showing her emotions

-Mr. Van Dort’s full name is William Oscar Van Dort

-William loves talk about fish and his business, he always tries to weasel in the topic whenever possible to his wife and son's annoyance

-William used to take Victor on fishing trips when he was younger, which practically bored Victor to death

-While he tends to be the more passive one in their relationship, William does put his foot down when the situation calls for it

-It may not seem like it, but William adores Victor and he tries to do whatever he can to be there for his son

-When Victor turned sixteen, William gave him a silver pocket watch with a design of a fish on the front and his initials

-Lady Everglot’s full name is Maudeline Hortense Glottberg Everglot

-Maudeline and Finis didn’t plan on having a child in the first place and Victoria came as more of a surprise

-Maudeline had a sister named Marie who loved playing the piano. They didn’t get along in their youth and they drifted apart as they grew up. Maudeline wasn’t even invited to Marie’s wedding to Lord Frederick Cartwell

-When Marie died, she left her piano to her sister, but Maudeline never touched it. She felt it brought back too many memories and forbade Victoria from going near it was well

-Lord Eveglot’s full name is Finis Augustus Everglot

-While he was disappointed in not having a son, Finis deeply cares for his daughter. He just doesn’t know how to show it

-Even though they’re not good at sharing their feelings, Maudeline and Finis do care for each other to some extent

-Hildegarde has lots of grandchildren and she visited their home in the countryside as often as she could before she passed away

-When he was alive, Bonejangles was a freelance jazz musician from America and his original name was Dexter. He was finishing a gig in England when he died in a horrible carriage accident (he was run over), which also caused him to lose his eyeball

-General Bonesapart and General Wellington were actually General Napoleon Bonaparte and English General Wellington, two real historical figures. However, even though they hated each other at first, they became real pals eventually

-Although they don't say it out loud, people in Burtonsville make fun of Maudeline's hair cut, calling her names like "Rump Head" or "Hairmungus"

-Elder Gutknecht is one of the many Afterlife Lords, responsible for managing the dead after they pass. Among them include God, the Devil, King Vince, Hades, Hel, Osiris, Odin, Freya, and, the Hindu God Yama

-The Underworld is actually thousands of miles underground and due to the magic surrounding it. Mortals can't access it unless they die themselves

-After his death, Mayhew kicked the habit of smoking altogether and is very glad he did

-Elder Gutknecht has a fearsome Hellhound by the name of Infernius, his fierce and ever loyal pet. He guards the entrance to the Land of the Dead and can breathe fire that heats up to 900 degrees

-The fellow who was cut cleanly in half was an English gentleman by the name of Herman, who lived in Burtonsville years before. He ended up meeting his death due to an accident involving a rather large guillotine

-Generals Bonesapart and Wellington are the leaders of army of the Land of the Dead, but are only called into combat in times of great peril

-The people of Burtonsville sometimes call Lord Everglot “Everglut” behind his back

-Victoria has a cousin by the name of Dolores. Dolores is something of a freeloading con artist who moved to America when she left home. She considers herself a very attractive woman, but she just wears too much makeup and rather revealing clothes and is actually rather sleazy in reality. She also smokes, which Victoria and the rest of the Everglots are strongly against

-When he was alive, Elder Gutknecht used to be a wise sage that helped people in their time of need. He passed away when he reached the age of 102

-The Everglots were a family of nobles with a significant amount of money, but due to a bit of excessive gambling (by Dolores), they lost almost everything

-Almost every member of the Everglot family is rather ugly due to bad genetics. Victoria considers herself very, VERY lucky to have not inherited such genes (she unknowingly received her natural beauty from her late Aunt Marie)

-Pastor Galswells was raised in a strict environment. He was taught that kindness was weakness and to be stern and firm with everyone. He passed away shortly after the official wedding of Victor and Victoria and a new pastor took his place. His name is Pastor Ivan Blackthorp and he’s much kinder and friendlier than Galswells ever was

-The reason Victor named his dog Scraps was because he only ate table scraps

-The people of Burtonsville have a secret inside joke about the squatty walk Finis Everglot does where they assume that he would jump like a toad and snatch up a fly at any moment

-Burtonsville is well known for its raven population and there's an old legend saying they're messengers to the Land of the Dead

-For some weird reason, William Van Dort is known to mutter the words "Fishy, fishy, fish" in his sleep and it honestly creeps Nell out

-Paul, the decapitated head waiter, was actually a French man who served Marie Antoinette during her reign. Unfortunately, he was unjustly executed by association with the queen when the French Revolution broke out and he was never able to find his body after he died

-Several people have assumed Maudeline's hair is an actual wig and she's bald under it… only to be mistaken, resulting in a whooping

-Lord Barkis was a master of disguise in life and was never caught by the police as a result

-The Underworld has a prison known as the Iron Tomb and it holds some pretty infamous inmates who include Bluebeard, Caligula, Henry VIII, Mary I of England, and many more

-The Town of Burtonsville was actually built on an ancient burial ground, which is possibly why the Land of the Dead is connected to it

-After her death, Emily was made the official guardian angel of the Van Dort family

This is all I've got so far, but feel free to tell me what you think and tell me which one is your favorite

#corpse bride #Tim Burton

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 3 years

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Nothing Alike: VI

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: gore, a lil torture, angst, language, kidnapping

MASTERLIST

It was practically impossible to catch a Witcher, and yet the men surrounding them had managed to catch two.

Geralt had been shaken awake with a knife pressed to his throat and a sly smile staring down at him in the morning sun. Y/N was already bound to a tree, a gag in her mouth (at least their captors were smart, this situation could only be made worse by her big mouth). Much to his surprise, she wasn’t struggling at all. She sat there limply, head slumped against her chest.

“What’s wrong with her?” he growled, trying to sit up but the knife only pressed harder against his throat, a small trickle of blood appearing on the sharp blade.

“Nothing to worry about, old man,” he growled, “Now I’d learn a lesson or two from your keep and do exactly as we say.” With disgruntled ease, Geralt allowed himself to be tied to a tree, watching Y/N closely. She looked roughed up, hair matted, part of her shirt was torn, exposing skin. She must have been knocked out when they caught her, that was the only explanation for her lack of movement. And then the captors looked away for a moment, conversing quietly between themselves, and she looked up shooting him a sly wink. When their captors returned, she instantly returned to her state of submission.

He was absolutely bewildered.

“Alright missy, up you go,” one said, yanking her free of the ropes by the forearm. She promptly burst into tears, begging him to let her go. Now Geralt really was confused. Last he checked, Y/N was a fighter, who wasn’t going to let anyone put their hands on her, even if it was pretend, and yet she continued to sob.

“Please, my father has money, I’ll give you whatever you want,” she was pleading, throwing all her weight into the mans grip until he was forced to drop her to the ground. She didn’t run as Geralt had anticipated, simply kept crying.

“If the man has money, he can go to auction just like everyone else,” the captor growled and Geralt’s eyes widened. The auction, they were going to try and sell two witchers at an auction? Well, maybe only one, he couldn’t be sure they knew she was a Witcher with the way she was weeping all over the place.

“But how is he supposed to know I’m there?” she continued to weep, soaking the dirt with crocodile tears. The dirty man above her showed her a yellow grin.

“Call it, father’s intuition,” he laughed, before grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder, walking out of the clearing. He listened for her crying as long as it stayed within earshot. He returned his golden eyes to the three men still within the clearing and glared at them. They were clearly nervous about moving the Witcher, and rightly so.

None of them seemed to be the first to approach. He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes, it wasn’t as if he could breathe fire. Eventually, the man who had dragged Y/N away returned and scoffed at the cowardly men.

“Not a brain among the lot of you,” he mocked before marching right up to Geralt and slammed the pommel against his skull, sending Geralt to sleep once more.

When he woke again, it was dark. A few torches lit the area, and he was able to take in his surroundings. He was in a prison cart sitting across from an amused looking Y/N. There were no tears, and she was only lightly bound. A single knot bound her wrists (loosened by the looks of it) and nothing more, even the gag was gone. He on the other hand was bound to the bars themselves, arms spread eagle, a complicated and well-practiced knot keeping his feet bound to the bars across the cart. She offered him a smug smile, noting the difference in bindings.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” she whispered, “I was getting bored.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Almost the whole day, I’m surprised he didn’t shatter your skull, not that anything could get through that thick skull of yours,” she teased, pulling one of her hands free from the bindings and scratching her nose, if only to mock him. With ease she slipped it back inside the ropes, grinning all the while.

“Do they know you’re a Witcher?”

“Speaking of your thick skull. Of course not, well at least they didn’t until you yelled it for the whole world to hear.” He rolled his eyes, still as dramatic as ever.

“Why didn’t you escape when he dropped you?”

“And leave you to rot?”

“You could have killed all four and you know it.” Her eyes widened and she stuck out her bottom lip.

“Poor little me, I’ve never killed anyone in my whole life?” Her tone was so sweet it turned his stomach.

“Shut up, why didn’t you?”

“Curiosity.”

“So, you’re interested in auctions?”

“Maybe.” She had a plan; he just knew it. Frankly, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had purposely let herself be caught just to fuck with someone other than him.

“And what happens when they sell you?”

“Who knows, I’m sure I’ll go accustom to being someone’s whore, just as I’m sure you will.” He growled, lunging at her, but the ropes held him back. “Feisty,” she laughed, “they’re not going to like that at the auction, you might even earn yourself some lashes.” He lunged again, shaking the cart and drawing the attention of the driver.

“Quiet, Witcher,” one called, and he glared at her. She only smiled innocently.

“How many are there?”

“Six, but only two of them have any brawn in this, the rest are just hoping to make some money to feed their families.”

“You sound sympathetic.”

“Do I?”

“Very, and what’s happened to our swords.”

“They’re in the front, they plan on selling those too. Thought it was funny you had four.” He rolled his eyes and leaned back to ignore her, hopefully finding a few more minutes of sleep, but he was deeply disappointed. The cart slowed to a stop and she brought the knot to her teeth, tightening it before huddling into a corner. He could hear footsteps behind him, and the door flew open. The well-dressed man allowed his gaze to drift around his two captives with a twisted smile. Eventually, he settled on Y/N and crooked a finger, motioning for her to come forward.

She had the audacity to whimper.

“Come now, I won’t hurt a pretty prize like you.” She nodded submissively and crawled over his legs slowly, clumsily pulling herself forward with bound wrists. He growled at her, and she squeaked, earning himself a jab to the side with the mans walking stick. She practically fell into the man’s arms, stumbling over her apologies as he helped her down. “No worries my dear, all the fault of that monster.”

A man who hated witchers, truly, how original.

“Now, I have some questions for you, and I need you to answer them for me as honestly as you, do you understand?” She looked up at him with wide eyes but said nothing until his grip tightened against her skin.

“Yes,” she yelped and he must have released the pressure because she relaxed. He set her down and stood before her, looming over the huddled figure.

“Very good. First question, what’s your name?”

“Elvina.”

“See, easy questions, now what are you doing all alone in the woods with nothing but a monster to keep you company.”

“I’m a child surprise,” she whispered and Geralt swore he was going to strangle her the moment he was untied.

“You told my men your father had money, and this may be true, but you don’t have a father if you are a child surprise. Isn’t that correct.” Geralt held his breath, waiting for her response. The lies were already catching up to her. They were both going to be dead before sunrise. She was barely visible in the darkness, but he could tell she had slumped over as she began to cry.

“I was scared. I didn’t know what to say, I lied, please don’t kill me,” she begged, holding the hem of the man’s coat. Patiently, he pushed her back to the stump she had been sitting on.

“We will deal with your lies later, but for now I need you to continue to be honest.”

“I’m so sorry,” she cried again.

“Later, we will deal with that later. Now, Elvina are you pure?”

“Yes, yes of course,” she lied through the tears. Geralt was surprised was able to contain his laughter, he was sure she hadn’t been pure since she learned what sex was.

“Very good. Do you have any skills?”

“I can heal all right, and sew, but I’m a terrible cook, sir. The Witcher always yells at me for my cooking.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure there are uses other than cook for a pretty thing like you.”

“Are you really going to sell me?”

“Yes.” She started crying again. “Now, none of that, there will be tears to shed in a moment. Heinrick, come here,” he ordered and the dirty man who had knocked him out earlier emerged from the darkness.

“Yes sir?”

“Elvina here lied to us earlier about the money.”

“A real shame, sir.”

“Yes, I agree, but you know what must be done, don’t you?”

“I do, sir.”

“Then, I’ll leave you to it.” With that, the well-dressed man disappeared from sight, leaving Y/N alone with Heinrick. The man stood over her, raising a hand that summoned to other men. They approached from behind her crying figure and quickly snatched her from the ground. One took her by the waist, pulling her to his lap as she screamed in surprise. The other held one of legs down while she struggled.

“What are you doing, let me go,” she cried out, and for a moment Geralt thought she might not be acting anymore.

“Not yet, we have a tradition for liars,” he said with a grin, pulling something from his pocket that Geralt couldn’t make out. She was silent as she watched, but he could tell she was still struggling.

And then the screaming started.

It wasn’t fake. No one could fake something so horrible as the scream that filled the quiet darkness. If he had been any closer, he was sure his ears would have bled from sheer pain. He never wanted to hear anything so awful ever again, especially not from her. She was so strong, so unwilling to show fear, and yet all he could hear was fear and pain. He wanted to call out to her, but he could already hear her chastising him about blowing their cover, so he did his best to remain quiet as she screamed.

When the screams disappeared, he could hear the men surrounding her laughing as she panted. One whispered something into her ear, and she whimpered, only making the men laugh harder. Quickly, she was hauled towards the cart and tossed inside, followed by a small bundle of cloth.

“Don’t let yourself bleed out,” came the unsympathetic call before he too disappeared into the darkness. Geralt tried to see the damage, but it seemed that there wasn’t any, until his eyes landed on her exposed feet.

Two toenails were gone, completely pulled from the roots. Her whole body was shaking as she wrapped the cloth around her foot. It was red in an instant, dripping onto the wood beneath them.

“Y/N,” he whispered but she didn’t look up, she just kept tightening the bandage. “Y/N,” he tried again and this time she looked up at him.

He wished she hadn’t.

Her face was streaked in tears, eyes still full of them. Her bottom lip was quivering, and there was no one to act for. Finally, she let out a shaky laugh mixed with a sob and leaned back into her corner.

“This is going to fun, very fucking fun.”

He was sure somewhere deep in her twisted mind she was right; he could only hope someone would pray for mercy on their souls, because he surely wouldn’t.

Taglist: @stuckupstucky @aurora-sweet @holyhumorliteraturelight @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire @auds24

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zebrabaker · 4 years

Text

The Goddess of Life, The King of Death: Chapter 10

I LIVE!

They had been in the palace for five days, five very busy days. Altogether, they had had maybe an hour to relax together. Allegra, Claude, and Allain were busy as well, running back and forth between the underworld and the heavens, trying to make sure that everything was still running while Persephone and Felix were making last minute wedding plans.

The dress Persephone had brought with had kept her up every night, sewing by the light of enchanted lanterns. It would be exquisite, but it was taking far too long to finish. At this rate, it would be done the night before the wedding, but only just. She pricked her finger for the thirteenth time in the last hour and cursed, shoving the ichor-coated digit into her mouth. Once she was sure the ichor had stopped, she carefully inspected the pearlescent lace to ensure it wasn’t stained.

Persephone heaved a sigh and slowly stood from where she had been seated on the floor. She had been given a side room to work on the dress in, so that if Felix stopped by, he wouldn’t accidentally see the dress. It would be perfect, if she could finish it. Yawning so hard her jaw let out a satisfying crack, she stretched out her arms and made her way to her bedchambers to get some sleep. She only had a few hours till dawn, and she had another busy day ahead.

X0X0X

Dawn came far too early. It felt like she had only just closed her eyes when there was a knocking at her door.

“’Sephie?” Allegra’s voice called. “It’s time to get up, we need to discuss seating plans, and the menu, and of course the music. I know you have the first dance song picked out, but there’s a great deal left to do, and we only have two days!” Persephone let out a mighty groan as she sat up, rolling her neck and stretching her shoulders. She was desperately in need of a hot bath to sooth her sore muscles, but right now she hadn’t the time.

“Be out in ten, Allegra!” She called back, trudging over to her wardrobe. She shoved a few dresses aside before settling on a gown Felix had given her as a gift. It had dozens of intricate beads on the bodice and along the top of the sash around the waist. It was a rich shade of eggplant, with delicate cap sleeves and a small slit on each side of the A-line skirt that revealed her favorite shoes. Her and Allegra had developed a habit of visiting markets around the world to see what the humans had created now. This pair was Grecian, a set of sturdy sandals that wrapped around her calves several times, reaching her knees. They were surprisingly comfortable and made her legs look great. She checked her reflection one last time in the mirror, nodded, and headed into the hall.

“There you are!” Allegra cheered. She was wearing a lovely shade of aquamarine that made her eyes pop, and a snake arm cuff that she recognized from some Roman booth they had visited a few weeks ago.

“Sorry, I was up late working on the dress again.” Persephone sighed. “Please tell me you have – “

“Coffee from the kitchens, completely black?” Allegra giggled, holding up a massive mug. Persephone kissed her best friend on the cheek and took the bitter drink, sipping slowly. While Persephone drank her coffee darker than the deepest pit of Tartarus, Felix took his with three pumps of nectar, extra whip cream, and ambrosia sprinkles. It came from early mornings in the bakery, helping her parents before Noroo had even raised the sun. She had learned that the more bitter the coffee, the more energy it granted.

“You are the best friend I could ever ask for, Allegra!” Persephone sighed after downing half the mug. “Now, what did we have to do today? We have the dessert handled, and Felix says that the boys all have outfits planned. What else is needed?”

“Like I said, we need to finalize the menu with the chefs, make seating plans for the reception, and the music aside from the first dance. Come on, we have the same sitting room as the other day set up and ready to go.” Persephone nodded, and the two took off down the winding corridors of the palace.

X0X0X

It had been six hours, but everything was finalized. The seating plan had taken the longest; between where to sit her family so that people wouldn’t realize who she was till after the ceremony and trying to make sure that none of the Underworld family would be placed by someone who held any grudges (Claude tended to prank the wrong people). But it was all done, down to the smallest detail. The muses would be providing music for everyone, the dinner plans had been made (guests would choose between beef or fish, green beans or broccoli, side salads or soup, and there was rolls from the bakery and cake for everyone), and the seating arrangement was finally done. Persephone was sagging. Who knew planning a wedding was so complicated?

“Sephie!” Allegra called, snapping her fingers in front of her friend’s nose. Persephone startled and blinked rapidly at her friend. Allegra giggled a little, before pulling her up from the arm chair she had slumped in. “A certain someone is here to take you to lunch.” Perking up, Persephone looked over to the door to see Felix standing there, smiling at her.

“Hello, dearest.” He said.

“Hey, love.” She murmured, crossing the room to press a small kiss to his lips. He hummed and set a hand on her waist, as if to ensure himself she was real. “What’s this about lunch?”

“I may have set up a small surprise for you. Come on, it’s this way.” HE gently guided her, keeping her close to his side. She smiled, and began to run him through the plans they had made. Felix and the boys had been in charge of double checking the guest list and the RSVPs, to ensure they had enough for the number of guests attending. It had also been up to them to plan security and entertainment. She only hoped that they hadn’t gone too overboard. After a few minutes of walking in content silence, he stepped away from her and spun around, holding out a hand. Persephone didn’t recognize the area they were in; it was part of the palace she hadn’t had time to explore.

“Ready dearest?” He asked, setting one hand on the door handle. “I need you to close your eyes. Trust me?”

“Always, love.” She smiled and set her hand atop his as he flung the door open. She gasped at the sight laid out before her.

The doors lead to a massive interior garden, with a stunning white gazebo in the center. There was a small floating string quartet, playing a gentle melody, encompassed in a golden aura. Set in the middle of the gazebo was a small round table and chairs, with a simple yet delightful looking meal. It, all in all, was an exact replica of the place they had their weekly date night in the Underworld, in the small grotto she had made her first day there.

“Oh Felix!” She murmured. “This is perfect! It’s exactly what I needed. I’ve been so stressed, and this is so lovely!” He stepped up behind her, pressing his chest to her back and wrapping her in a tight hug.

“I know, dearest. I saw how hard you’ve been working, and I can’t tell you how overjoyed I am that you agreed to marry me in the first place. I know that tradition says we can’t see each other tomorrow, so I decided we needed to spend all of this afternoon together. Allegra, Claude, and Allain are handling the last minute details, so we are completely free.”

“I love you so much, My King.”

“I love you too, my king.“

@kuroko26 @crazycookie13o @princesskitomi @miraculous-of-salt @luluthorn @phantasmagoricalzenith @ginamariepotterhead @mikantsume @miraculousl4dybug @our-cool-jenny @myownworldstayout @lunatheenemy @bluerose-deer @tinybrie @itawonka-creates @saltynexus @pan-cakez @lady-charinette @tis-i-beanbandit

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un-romancible-npc · 5 years

Text

Chance

Chapter One: Dancing in Silence

3631 words

Original Idea:

::You are here::Part 2::Ao3::

The cacophony of night that most coastal cities had was entirely lost on the quiet, lonely streets of Gotham. It wasn't a silent city by any means, but its citizens had learned a long time ago that nighttime was not their domain, and as fantastic as some of those night-liers were, Gotham knew it was best to leave the night to its own, and let the bats do their hunting.

Most of Gotham knew that, anyway.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, President of the class in the French foreign exchange program, fashion genius, and proud owner of at least 3 brain cells, was lying wide awake at 2:30am in a bed in a luxury hotel room at the heart of Gotham City, desperately trying to figure out if cereal was a soup and feeling remarkably as though she had been lied to her whole life.

The hotel room, which she was finding she disliked more and more the longer her brain went without sleep, was a mess of creams and browns and golds when the lights were on, but in the dark, with only the faint street light filtering through the balcony doors' curtains, everything was the same vague gradient of grey to black. She much preferred it like that.

Marinette lay on her back, sheets tangled at the corners of her bed after hours of tossing and turning, her arms and legs splayed out in a manner not unlike a starfish that had been asked for a high-five, and her black hair flopped out of the two now virtually-useless buns perched atop her head, loose strands sticking uncomfortably to her wide-eyed face.

She had half a mind to wake up her roommate, Chloe Bourgeois, who had been asleep for the last hour and a half, and ask her opinion on the matter. Even considering what 'the wasp', as Alya had taken to calling her, was going through physically at the moment, and that she'd put Sabrina in a choke-hold for almost a full minute last time she was disturbed--with precise details of how she would personally destroy anyone who dared bother her nap again--and only let go after she'd given Sabrina and everyone who saw the incident one (1) more chance to live.

It probably wasn't worth it.

Unfortunately, Marinette was about to die from over-internalization, and she was genuinely considering putting her life on the line for answers.

Mari shifted to her side and stared at the gap in the curtains, one of the narrow slices of light that leaked through them leaving a stripe of color down her face and abdomen, illuminating her plain black sports-bra and green basketball shorts she'd stolen from Adrien after accidentally ruining her own fuzzy Pj bottoms mere hours before. If anyone else had been awake, they would have also seen the light glinting off the peculiar, vein-like markings that spiraled around her torso, their lines intertwining with themselves and leading up to two small marks just above her shoulder blades.

Marinette openly scowled at the double doors to the hotel balcony.

'I'm going to go insane.'

With a sigh as quiet as she could manage, Mari sat up, climbed to the foot of her bed, rifled under her dresser for her suitcase, and fished out her specially altered red-and-black hoodie, the matching pair of black leggings with red spots, and a pair of sneakers. Sliding into them in almost total silence--she doesn't count the muttered French that may or may not have been cursing when she stubbed her pinkie toe on the end table--she opened the glass doors at the end of the room and slid outside for some fresh air.

Stepping out onto the small balcony, Mari inhaled deeply and stared at the city. The lights were loud, even though the noises weren't, but the colors outside felt better, and she found she could think more clearly without the suffocating blackness of the room surrounding her, glaring at her with thinly veiled chartreuse and belly-hair-brown.

Mari looked up, the waning crescent moon sending a crooked smile her way as she did so, and she smiled right back.

The sky looked different in America.

She turned, mouth twisting into a knot, and stared at the 'french' doors that led back to her room, having half a mind to just go back inside… but her designer's heart craved a better view, and the stifling heat of her bed was exactly the kind of thing that would keep her awake longer.

Nodding resolutely, Marinette marched toward the doors, and leapt up precisely as high as she needed, fingers gripping the ledge above it with a strength that belied her small stature. Hooking her foot over the top of the door frame, she hauled herself up and began scaling the building, using every ledge and window she could. Her seemingly delicate hands were covered in calluses after years of sewing accidents and other... extracurricular activities, so the rough concrete and brick was nothing she hadn't dealt with before.

Chloe liked to 'joke' that she probably didn't have fingerprints anymore, and could definitely get away with murder. Marinette snorted, smiling to herself as she pulled herself over another window ledge, her brain temporarily distracted from cereal soup by that particular conversation that had kept the three of them awake far past curfew.

Chloe scoffed from her perch on the largest bed, tossing her head to flip her white-blonde braid over her shoulder as she dipped the little brush back into the fingernail polish container.

"Oh course I'm not talking about actually murdering anyone, Bumble-Bug." She said, delicately coating her pinky fingernail in pearlescent midnight-blue polish. "All I'm saying is that if, hypothetically of course, somebody, nobody in particular, at say… the school, happened to end up dead in a ditch somewhere," she dipped the brush again. "And there happened to not be any fingerprints, the police couldn't pin a thing on you. Ask Sabrina, she's doing an internship at her Daddy's place."

Shaking her head, and biting her lip to keep herself from laughing, Mari turned her attention back to applying her own rose-gold polish.

A few specks of Gotham's finest hotel were unintentionally scraped off the border of a window and tumbled to the pavement below. Mari grunted, adjusting her grip on a gargoyle-like figure near the edge of the roof to better secure herself so she could find another foothold, unintentionally scraping her palms in the process. She grinned.

"Y'know Ladynette," said Adrien, his mop of sunshine-blond hair coming into view as he sat up from where he had been lounging on the floor, still waving his hands in an attempt to dry the sloppy black and green nail polish he had insisted he do himself. 'We just have to take it off before I go home! Father won't know if we don’t tell him!' "Bee's got a point. I'm not saying I would appear as Chat to give you the best alibi in history, but I'm also not saying I wouldn't." He tapped the side of his nose, effectively smearing the nail polish on his index finger all over the inside of his eyelid. "You're the star student, after all."

Marinette couldn't take anymore, and collapsing into a giggle-fit, accidentally spilling the rose-gold nail polish all over her fuzzy pajama pants in the process. It took far too long to calm down, but when she did, Chloe and Adrien had already found replacement pants for her.

Mari returned to the present as she, with a final shove, found herself on the roof of the very prestigious hotel her class was staying at during their 3 month exchange program. Her entire class.

'No one in particular my foot.'

Mari stood near the opposite edge of the roof from where she'd climbed up, letting the cool, damp midnight breeze play with her hair, as she breathed a deep sigh.

Cereal was soup.

…

Kwamiis, she'd been hanging out with Adrien too much.

Her thoughts stilled for a moment, though her mind continued at breakneck speed as memories of her loved ones filled her up to bursting. She closed her eyes and let the images chase themselves in circles for a little, drinking in the feeling of the night and the faint smell of coastal rain that sank into her bones.

Gotham was officially her second favorite city.

The mood was briefly soured as her brain, still dutifully chugging along as the speed of light now that she had nothing else to think about, began turning to darker subjects. Mari sighed, her whole body sagged in exhaustion and her fingers twisting around the ponytail that was wrapped around her wrist as said darker thoughts began playing on repeat in her head, the face of at least two thirds of her misery laughing at her misery, though she wasn't on the roof to laugh at her.

‘Lila.’

Marinette's fiddling with the ponytail ceased as she began bouncing her leg, her hands moving up to readjust her buns in a vague hope of making them slightly less disastrous.

‘Oh boy, Lila…’

Liar and life-ruiner extraordinaire.

The reason her only friends were suddenly transferred to new classes even though she herself had tried a dozen times over to do just the same.

Mari sighed, tugging at a nasty tangle the ponytail-holder had somehow created with her bun.

At least she still had Alix and Kim. As much as she loved Chloe and Adrien, Adrien couldn’t do anything to rock the boat without his father forcing him to quit public school, and since Chloe’s father had finally been replaced as Mayor, she didn’t have nearly as much power as she used to. Besides, the class was against her to begin with, and it had only gotten worse as Lila began to spin her web.

Alix and Kim on the other hand, while they couldn't convince many people of Lila's schemes, they could punch people in the face. Mari actually cried when they told her they both got suspended for a week after doing just that the day they found out Lila was nothing but a liar, (Alix did the punching and Kim cheered her on) and while she insisted they never do that again, she brought them 'thank you' goodies every day for six months after that.

Her thoughts cheered up significantly after a few forceful topic-changes and as they continued to wander, a tune bumbled its way to the surface and, having nothing better to do at the moment, she began humming it. What the song itself was called she didn't remember, maybe it never existed to begin with, but the melody was quiet enough to be soothing, and it was calming, if a little haunting.

A few measures into her strange melody, Mari found herself half dancing-half fidgeting to the beat of her imaginary song, incomprehensible words playing through her mind as the night dragged on and Gotham continued on in semi-silence.

Mari was midway through one of the ballet moves Chloe had dragged her to classes to learn, when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Mari cut her movement off mid-flow and stood stock still.

Someone was on the roof with her.

Years of constantly living life on the edge of both a mental breakdown and a life-or-death battle was the only thing keeping her from blindly round-house-kicking whoever it was in the face and running off into the night. Fight and flight instincts could fudge a delicate situation, and whoever was up here could simply be getting some air, like her.

Maybe she should have let her instincts run the show.

She barely had time to register she was still humming--being forced to communicate in the most dire of circumstances had made the moments where she couldn’t shut herself up more often than she’d care to admit--when an arm that felt as though it was made of steel and iron was pinning her left arm to her back as a knee, which she assumed belonged to the owner of the steel and iron arm, slammed into the middle of her back and began forcing her to the ground.

In the split second before her face made contact with the gravel on the rooftop, Mari had one single thought racing through her head.

She knew this hold.

She’d done it a thousand times in the back alleys of Paris on odd nights.

This was the hold that would break your arm if you struggled.

The hold designed to keep the victim still and in pain.

The hold to intimidate and contain.

The hold made for criminals.

Hah.

No.

Faster than even she expected, Mari twisted her body completely around and successfully out of his hold, eyes narrowed in determination.

C R A C K

‘Well.’ Mari rolled away from her attacker, clutching her broken arm to her chest. ‘That’s going to be hard to explain to Mlle. Bustier in the morning.’ Mari recovered quickly--She'd felt more pain than a broken arm and won a fight before: and a non-functioning arm wasn't going to stop her now.--and regained her footing just in time to see a young man, probably about her age, in a truly shocking outfit with the most bizarre color coordination she had ever seen-- Okay not the most bizarre. She'd fought Akuma after all, and some of those deserved to be taken down on their fashion sense alone--pull out a katana from seemingly nowhere.

‘Wait…’ She thought as she dodged the katana swipe and dropped to the ground in attempt to swipe his feet out from underneath him. ‘Him and his traffic-light costume look familia--’

“Robin!”

Marinette froze as none other than Batman--The Actual Honest To Goodness Batman--swung onto the roof just behind her attacker.

Mari would’ve fangirled if she wasn’t so high on caution juice.

“Father,” apparently-Robin said, not breaking eye-contact with her, the blade of his katana less than an inch from her throat now that she wasn’t fighting back.

‘Wait… wait, isn’t that called adrenaline?’

“Robin, why were you attacking a civilian.”

‘Oh glory Batman is speaking to Robin, he’s speaking with Robin and they’re talking right in front of me--’ Mari blinked. ‘Civilian?’

“Tch,” Robin’s lip curled slightly, though otherwise he didn’t move. ‘Oh. Right. I’m not wearing my mask. “Father this isn’t another civilian.”

‘I mean he’s right, but I’m right here--’

“She’s clearly a villain.”

‘Okay WHAT?!’

“And what makes you say that?” Mari’s mouth moved in her own defense before she’d formed a proper argument.

‘FrICK.’

Silence.

Silence punctuated by Batman’s stare.

Which of them he was looking at was a mystery, but he punctuated the lack of noise nevertheless.

‘I’m sorry Batman: One of us is going to die tonight and it’s probably going to be me if your son doesn’t say something soon.’

“Tch.” Robin’s head rolled slightly to the side; an exaggerated eye-roll if she’d ever seen one. “You’re up here, alone, ballet dancing, and humming a stupid creepy tune.” Mari blinked at him incredulously. “It’s highly unusual in Gotham for anyone to preform their own... musical theater routine, at 4 in the morning mind you, unless they’re extremely unbalanced and have a bomb planted sixty feet below the mayor’s office.”

“You…” She took a deep breath in, moving her broken arm as carefully--and casually--as she could. “You tried to knock me unconscious, fight me, and potentially take me to a police station for questioning... because I was awake at 4am.” Well, if Batman’s stare wasn’t burning holes into Robin’s head before, it sure was now. Robin, to his credit, relaxed his defensive stance slightly, even as a scowl darker than any she’d expect on his face dragged whatever hope she had of reasoning down with his mood.

“Robin?”

Batman had said 9 words since his first appearance, and somehow Mari knew he was on her side.

She and her motor-mouth could learn from him.

Robin snorted softly and stuck his nose in the air, though any fool could see it was over a sense of wounded pride rather than genuine haughtiness. Or, anyone who’d been friends with Chloe for more than a week, anyway. He finally relaxed his fighting stance, however, and stood with his back ram-rod straight and his arms crossed over his chest.

“It isn’t my fault she was being stupid.”

“And it isn’t my fault you couldn’t just use basic human communication to inquire as to my true intentions.” Being starstruck is overrated.

“If you were really a villain you’d take advantage of that.” He snapped, glaring at her.

“If I were really a villain,” Mari retorted with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be stupid enough to dance out in the open in celebration of my latest unfinished scheme.” Mari crossed her arms. ‘Owowowowow no that’s bad don’t move broken arm that hurts--’ “Especially not when it’s nighttime and the Batman Squad are out and about. Besides, you can be physically prepared for an attack while still brokering a deal. It’s how being a superhero is supposed to work, isn’t it? Get the villain talking so you can assess the situation and the threat without potentially risking any civilians in the way?” ‘I just back-talked Robin. And by extension, Batman.’

Mari could feel her blush burning her skin to ash.

‘Batman please take your son and leave so I can die in peace I’m--’

“You’re very correct, Miss.”

‘S a y f r e a k i n g w h a t n o w.’

Mari whipped around, her loose hair smacking her in the eyes as she did so, to see The Actual Freaking Nightwing standing on one of the rooftop gargoyles and grinning at her.

Her heart had stopped functioning a long time ago, and it appeared her lungs were now bent on doing the same.

“Being a superhero is about more than just punching crime in the face. Though I gotta admit that’s the fun part.”

“Until crime punches ya’ back,” the ghost of Marinette’s soul replied through her somehow still-living body. “Then you just have a black eye, injustice, and a whole lotta paperwork.” Nightwing burst out laughing, and slid off his gargoyle to walk over and give her a clap on the back.

“It’s official,” he said, his grin wide and friendly. “You’re my second-favorite civilian.” Mari’s soul transcended to the next dimension. “What’s your name, kid?”

“I-I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, monsieur.” ‘I’m Freaking Nightwing’s Second Favorite Civilian. How in the ever-loving hECC, did I end up here? How has my life come to this? Is this where I die?’

“A pleasure to meet you Marinette,” Nightwing said with yet another grin, as he stuck out his hand to shake. “I’m sure you already know who we are, but based off your French accent you probably aren’t from ‘round here: I’m Nightwing.” He gestured to Batman’s looming figure. “The silent Night is Batman, and--”

“I suppose Traffic-Light boy is Robin, then?”

‘MOUTH WHAT THE HECK YOU CAN’T OPERATE WITHOUT EXPLICIT PERMISSION FROM THE BRAIN WHAT ARE YOU DOING GOING ROGUE LIKE THAT YOU’RE OFFICIALLY ON PROBATION--’

“No-- wait I'm sorry I didn’t mean it like that I swear--”

It was too late.

Robin had frozen in place, his face a mixture of shock and an emotion she couldn’t place.

Nightwing was doubled over with laughter.

Batman’s face seemed to always be an emotionless, impenetrable mask in the short time she’d known him, but Mari could’ve sworn she saw the faintest of smiles. It was gone in a moment, but it was there.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had made Batman, actual honest to goodness Batman, smile.

Well, if she wasn’t dead before, she was now.

“We’re sorry for the trouble Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said Batman when it seemed like Nightwing wasn’t going to recover anytime soon. “I hope Robin didn’t hurt you too badly.” Marinette welcomed the distraction, though she was still redder than her hoodie. She waved her non-broken arm dismissively.

“He didn’t, Monsieur Batman. Je--err, I, am perfectly fine. I’m sorry to have disturbed your patrol.” Batman gave her the tiniest of nods. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I'll get back to my room. It’s very late after all.”

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“You too, mon--err, Sir.” Marinette started walking toward the side of the building to climb back down, when a door in the center of the roof caught her attention.

Oh.

She paused halfway to the entrance, gnawing at her lip.

Mari turned around sharply.

“Robin?” The three caped crusaders paused. The boy in question gave her a sidelong glance, shooting her a quizzical look that may or may not have been laced with faint distaste. Not that she blamed him. “I’m sorry for any trouble I may have caused.”

He stared at her for a moment, his face expressionless for a moment.

“I’m sorry too. I hope I didn’t hurt your arm too badly.” he nodded to her curtly. “Have a good night, miss.”

And then they were gone.

A wave of exhaustion hit her like a truck, and she had the sudden realization she was supposed to be asleep at 4:30 in the morning.

She turned and opened the rooftop door, thanking anything and everything that the door was unlocked, and closed it softly behind her, leaning heavily against it and biting back her groan of pain.

Hiding a broken arm was painful.

Mari stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, absorbing everything that had happened.

Her face split into a joyous beam.

Adrien and Chloe were going to go berserk tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

Nightwing: “Hey, B-man. Bat-guy. Bro-man. Bat-dad. Can we please keep her? Please?”

Batman: “Not that it’s up to me, but we can’t. At the very least not unless she can fight.”

Robin: “Father, she broke her arm getting out of my hold and didn’t bat an eye at it.”

Nightwing: “The bean did what now.”

(also have a sketch i did. i’m sorry it’s not great but i just... i lov her okay?)

::You are here::Part 2::Ao3::

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punksarahreese · 3 years

Text

Birth | Bloodletting

Nosdecember day 21 | @neworleansspecial

Occult!AU; a look into Ava’s rebirth into vampirism

CW: Pet/master dynamics, abuse mention, murder, blood/scars, gore

***

“Will you ever stop fussing over them?” Ava’s voice held no annoyance, instead she was just watching Sarah with soft eyes. The human had been tracing the scars on her shoulders for minutes, something she had developed a habit of since getting closer with the vampire. It had been six months since they met, long since Sarah became a frequent, almost daily visitor of the big house in the forest. Estia was attached to her, excited to learn about life growing up as a human, and Ava herself had become quite fond of the woman too.

She wasn’t sure how she grew to trust the human so quickly. Maybe it was because Estia had no qualms about her, Ava trusting her daughter’s insight more than anyone’s; she had been with her for almost 40 years by then of course. Maybe it was because April and the wolves loved her, the promise that she had made respectable friends within the forest so she couldn’t be a threat. Ava supposed it could have been Sarah herself. Her behaviour, the way she instantly wanted to nurture and help anyone who needed it. A doctor through and through, Ava could tell, she just wanted to make people feel better. She had told Ava about her past, as if she thought opening up about her own trauma would make the vampire trust her more. Maybe it did, but she was still worried about Sarah learning her truth.

“They’re like little stories,” the human answered like she always did, “They tell me what you can’t, like how this one was inflicted by a dull blade; probably an old knife.”

“Smart girl,” Ava hummed, leaning into her touch as her fingers danced across her collarbone. She hadn’t felt this warm in almost a century, the heat of her body long since sapped by immortality. She hadn’t had much physical contact since becoming a vampire, definitely not by anyone as alive as Sarah. She had been surprised that the scent of her blood wasn’t always at the forefront of her mind, like so many elders had told her it would be when around a human. Instead, Ava was distracted by the gentleness of her touch, the warmth transferring to her own icy skin, and the care she took to be as delicate as possible. No one had been this attentive or caring in decades; Ava wasn’t sure how to react.

They were in Ava’s study, which was more of a library than anything. The walls were bookcases upon bookcases, covered in novels and nonfiction in every language imaginable. Sarah had been so excited when she realized Ava had a whole section dedicated to medical books, which she had told Sarah she could read at any time. She had been reading that day, curled up on the couch near the fireplace with Ava by her side. She only ever lit the hearth when Sarah was there, since neither her nor Estia needed the heat in their cold home. She didn’t mind it though, especially since it meant Sarah would stay for a large chunk of the day if the study was warm. It was a quiet, comforting escape from her cottage with Natalie and Autumn always there and April or the wolves asking to stop by. She loved her friends, she did, but sometimes she needed quiet time and Ava understood that the most.

Like so many times before, Sarah had gotten distracted when Ava passed her another book, catching her scarred hand before she could pull away. She was so fascinated by the vampire’s history, though she still seemed apprehensive to speak about it, and she wanted to know everything. She had been a psychiatry resident before she had to quit her job after her mother’s murder, so Sarah knew that Ava was hiding something and it was eating her away inside. She wanted to help, wanted the other woman to feel safe enough to trust someone; to trust her.

Ava didn’t protest when Sarah focused on her scars, she knew she meant no harm. Sarah was curious, that’s all, and Ava’s scars were a part of her eternal body. She had long since made peace with most of them and she certainly wouldn't complain about the attention. She trusted the human, she really did, but she wasn’t too sure if she trusted herself.

“Ava?”

Another hum was her only reply, though she did smile at Sarah when she went to brush a loose curl off her shoulder. She didn’t miss the way the vampire immediately stiffened when her fingers brushed her carotid however, and she couldn’t hide her own flinch at that. Still, when Ava didn’t make a move to pull away, Sarah let her hand gently rest against the left side of her neck, warm palm resting against the biggest scar there.

“You know I would never hurt you, right?”

“I feel like that’s a question I should be asking you,” Ava mumbled and the other woman knew she was deflecting. Sarah had long since inferred that this wound was how she died, since the vampire seemed void of any actual turning mark, but she never was able to get the answers from her. She didn’t want to push Ava if she wasn’t comfortable but she knew keeping it hidden for a hundred years wasn’t helping anyone.

“Why do you wish to know so badly?” Ava’s own hand came up to rest affectionately on the human’s cheek, “You’re a bit of a pain, you know that?”

“So you’ve told me,” Sarah smiled at her, knowing she was trying to distract her with the touch, “You would feel better if you talked about it.”

“I don’t… you shouldn’t have to hear the horrors of it all, Sarah. It’s something no one should ever have to endure, I wish to protect you from even the thought of it.”

“Ava… Please?”

“I-” the blonde sighed, “I’ve never talked about it, not out loud.”

“Not even with Estia?”

“Gods no, she may be older than you mentally but to me she is still a baby, my baby. She had her own traumatic turning, the last thing she needs is to know how much I endured before even having the relief of finally meeting death.”

“Ava, I’m sorry… You don’t-”

She shook her head, thinking for a moment before answering, “You asked and I do suppose it’s time I answer your questions. You deserve to know, though I will warn you it’s quite gruesome. I did not… have a pleasant end.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Sarah said apologetically, “Only if you trust me and feel comfortable, I would like to know.”

“Sarah, darling, I trust you more than anyone.”

***

Ava had been a nurse in a hospital in the poorest area of her hometown. She hadn’t wanted to become a nurse, rather she wanted to be a doctor, but female doctors just weren’t commonplace in the 1920’s. She spent the majority of her twenties working with women and children in poorhouses, coming to the aid of those who were harmed in war or domestic disputes. She was apart of a underground feminist movement in Cape Town as well, something her parents had long since stopped arguing with Ava about but hated all the same. She was reckless, they said, this would only hurt her reputation. How was she going to meet a respectable man to marry if she wouldn’t stop the suffragette nonsense? Little did they know, Ava had no interest in getting married, especially not to a man.

She was walking back from dropping her little sister off at some birthday party, Anikka had been so excited to give her friend a new teddy bear that Ava had helped her sew some little clothes for. The party would run for a few hours, so the woman figured she could kill some time by shopping for groceries and perhaps pick up a couple books to help Anikka learn to read.

It wasn’t even dark out, certainly not the time for a middle class, white woman to be too worried about walking around main street, though Ava realized she probably should have been more attentive. She was just passing between two stores, taking a familiar shortcut through an alleyway to avoid a group of soldiers doing a photo-op near a statue of the King. She didn't even have time to react when a rough hand grabbed her by the wrist, couldn’t bring herself to scream before another ice cold palm clapped over her mouth. The one thing she remembered before she blacked out was feeling the seam of her new coat ripping and the sharp pain of something jabbing into her shoulder.

When Ava woke up she was more than disoriented. The nurse in her said she must have hit her head at some point, as her eyes couldn’t comfortably adjust to the dim lighting and her mind was struggling to catch up. The room she was in was cold, empty except for a small cot pushed up against the wall and a bucket across the room that she didn't want to know the intended purpose of. She tried to get out, scrabbling at the rusty door hinges and tugging on the locked handle until her fingers bled. She cried, even though she hated herself for it, all she could do was cry and beg hoping her captors would hear her and have mercy.

Ava didn’t know how long she had been in that cold, damp room before someone showed up. She had cried herself to sleep at one point, curled up beside the door because the cot seemed too far away. She woke up when the door opened, hitting her in the back harshly. A voice chastised her for being in the way, demanding she stand and follow him. Ava tried to resist but was yanked to her feet, stumbling because she was beyond dehydrated and her head was spinning. She asked this man who he was, where he was taking her, and what day it was. She only got silence in reply, a harsh tug of her wrist almost landing her face first on the cold marble floor. That was when Ava realized she was barefoot, her coat and shoes were gone and her stockings had been ripped from the knees down. She was freezing, hands still bleeding from trying to escape, and she just wanted to go back to sleep. She wanted this to end before it got worse, she wasn’t sure what would happen to her but Ava assumed it wouldn’t be good.

Before long she was shoved into another room, the door slamming shut behind her. Ava assumed she was alone again, deciding to explore her new location since it was very different from her previous one. The room was decorated lavishly, way more modern than her current apartment that her father had bought her since she still refused to marry. A large piano was situated in the one corner of the room, overlooking a large curtained window that appeared to lead to a balcony. She ran an injured hand over the expensive leather of a comfortable looking couch, wondering who with all this money wanted anything to do with her. Sure Ava’s parents had money but she hardly believed they would pay any large sum for her ransom. Besides, these people appeared to have more money than her family ever would, so they probably didn’t need any ransom from her.

“Oh, you’ve finally calmed down; how lovely.”

Ava jumped at the deep tone, accented in a way that told her the man wasn’t from South Africa. English, she first assumed, and she turned to come face to face with a tall man who looked her father’s age. He was sitting in a chair near a fireplace, though it was not lit, and he had turned to look at Ava with amusement. What concerned her the most was his eyes, that tracked her anxious movements in a cat-like way. They were red, deeper in colour than the wounds of any injured person she had even seen. She wanted to scream, to run, but she feared for her life if she did.

“Now now, do not look so frightened, pet.” He stood, walking over to Ava even as she flinched away. A rough hand caught her face, squishing her cheeks as he gave her a once over with an unreadable expression. Ava had begun to cry silently, tears tracking down her already makeup-stained face and he wiped them away in distaste.

“So dramatic,” he crooned, “I hope you will learn to behave and keep yourself presentable in the future. Crying is unbecoming of a woman, especially one as pretty as you.”

“W-what… what do y-you want from me?”

“Oh, she speaks!” he laughed to himself, “What are you on about, pet?”

“I’m not you pet,” Ava spat in a sudden flare of rage, appalled at his behaviour towards her, “Is it money? Do you not have enough as it is? My family will not pay ransom for me, I hope you know.”

“Oh no, dear, you’ve got it all wrong,” Ava tried to fight off the hand that still had a hold of her but he only moved his hand down to wrap around her throat. He ignored the way her hands scrambled to tear his hand away, her nails not even making dents in his skin. The man grinned at her and if she had been able to Ava thought she would have screamed, where his incisors should have been were long, sharp teeth that could only be described as fangs.

“You, my pet, are mine. For eternity.”

***

“Is that when he…” Sarah was close to tears, holding tightly onto Ava’s hand. She saw the way her friend was shaking, whether it be out of fear of reliving her memories or anger at what had happened decades before. This was hard for her, Sarah felt horrible for even asking Ava to tell her what occurred.

“Gods no. Sarah, he kept me for over a year before his fangs ever broke skin.”

“What?”

“I was a walking blood bank for them…” she gestured to her countless scars inflicted by sharp objects, “They never bit me deep enough, not for the longest time. He said he would be the one to do it when the time came. They would cut me and collect my blood, sometimes he would… let them lick it off me instead.”

Anger flared in Sarah’s stomach at that, seeing how uncomfortable the memory made her. All she could do was stare at Ava, unsure of what to say. She just wanted to hug her in that moment, to hold her and promise no one would ever touch her again, but she didn’t want to overstep.

“It wasn’t all bad… they kept me well fed at least. I had to be of course, a malnourished person doesn’t produce good blood. My master,” she spat the title out like it burned, “He gave me everything a girl would have wanted back then. I had all the clothes and makeup and books I could want.”

“But you weren’t happy.”

“Of course not, I hated it there. I would pray for the day they would accidentally cut too deep or one of the fledglings would lose control and rip my throat out before he could stop them.”

“I’m sorry, Ava…” Sarah blinked away tears at the thought of everything she had had to endure, “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“I got my wish, though,” Ava laughed bitterly as she traced the largest scar, “That day… I thought it was the end.”

“What… happened?”

A fledgling had a knife, she was supposed to be collecting from me that day,” she answered, letting Sarah tug her own hand away from her neck. She gave the human a sad smile when she held her hand tightly, grateful for her comfort.

“She hit your carotid?”

Ava nodded, hiding a flinch at the memory, “I barely recall what happened except for the searing pain. There was so much blood, she was having trouble holding back and I could tell. I blacked out in seconds but the last thing I remember was collapsing into her arms and… I wish it had been the end. The next couple weeks were Hell compared to what had happened before.”

Sarah couldn’t help but ask, “Why did they wait until the last moment to turn you?”

“I was their toy… their pet, Sarah. They had me exactly where they wanted me for a year. They gave me just enough of their venom to keep me loyal and tied down, I couldn’t fight because my body wouldn’t let me. If they turned me I would have been more powerful and they couldn’t keep me a useful prisoner anymore.”

“Then why bother turning you? If you were already bleeding out and wouldn’t be what they wanted after?”

“He… said he couldn’t live without me. He wanted me to be his wife, I refused countless times. He was my master so I couldn’t leave but I refused to ever be his submissive in my afterlife. He tried, for decades this man tried to win my favour and still treated me like I was his. I would never accept his advances though, which angered him. He may have taken my life and my blood but there was no way in Hell that man was taking my body too.”

This was taking a big toll on Ava, though she couldn’t physically cry Sarah could see in her eyes that she wanted to. The human apologized softly, opening her arms without saying anything else. Ava hesitated but allowed herself to melt into the comfort, feeling safer than she ever thought she would again. She wasn’t sure why Sarah made her feel so safe, especially since Ava herself was naturally supposed to be a threat to her. Still, the way the woman held her close and brushed her hair gently behind her ear made Ava feel seen and cared for for the first time since 1920.

“He’ll never hurt you again, Ava.”

Ava couldn’t help the tiny smile that fought its way onto her face, “He can’t. I killed that bastard the second I got the chance.”

#haha #sad <3 #ava bekker #sarah reese #reesker #my aus #bloodletting #estia tag #occult!au #vampire!ava #human!sarah #ask to tag #my-writing #nosdecember #mutuals #neworleansspecial #userglow

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hateswifi · 4 years

Text

Rising from the Ashes: Of Dates and Disguises

So this is Part Seven here is to my Master List and Part Six.

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

He texts back his Angel asking to go out this Friday night. She responded positively. He told her that he would pick her up from work. She told him not to overdo it or she wouldn’t talk to him again for a month. He promised he would try and keep it lowkey. Damian fell asleep with a smile on his face and a place in mind.

She wore a red a three-quarter sleeve dress the flows out between her elbow and wrist, the skirt is flowy and ends above the knee. She wore cute ankle boots and black tights. She grabbed her black mini purse. It was still cold, so she grabbed her navy blue winter coat has fluffy faux fur on the hood. The next day of Marinette’s work went well.

She excitedly waits outside of Lucky Spot for Damian. She hears her phone ring, she picks it up. "Hi, Angel. I'm running a bit late. I got caught up in a bunch of traffic. I thought I would be out in time, but I'll be around ten minutes late. Can I pick you up at your apartment?" Damian asks speaking louder than need be.

"Damian, that sounds super loud are you ok? Are you safe?" Marinette asked, walking towards her apartment.

"Yes it's just traffic," Damian says. "Umm, I gotta go.."

"Oh ok," She said while hanging up. She finished walking home, texted Damian her address, and turned on the news. Robin and Red Hood were fighting Mr. Freeze. Well, they finished fighting they had Mr. Freeze in cuffs and was in the GPD's custody. Robin ran off out of view, the reporter talked about the fight when she heard a knock on her door. She got up quickly while turning off the t.v. and answered the door.

"Hey Damian," She smiles as she sees the boy, normally perfect black hair was quite messy, but handsomely messy, his green eyes sparkling in her dim lights. "Welcome to my humble abode. Would you like to take a look around?"

"That would be lovely," Damian said, closing the door behind him.

"Just let me remind you that I've only been living here for a couple of days and not everything is decorated or how I would like it to be," Marinette explained, quickly. "This is my kitchen and living room it's an open floor plan." If you follow me this way I have what will be my sewing room once I sell this twin bed. This is my bedroom, it's a mess right now so I'm just going to close this real quick. Then the bathroom is right here."

"This is quite a nice apartment for only being here for a couple of days," Damian compliments. "It doesn't look like you have much stuff though. Did you not take any of your stuff with you? Did your family not give you any housewarming gifts?"

"I recently lost my parents, that's part of the reason I left," Marinette said her face falling a bit. "They died when our house burned down, so I started from scratch. The things I own now were either left by the last tenant left, hand-me-downs from Chloe, or things I recently bought."

"Well I'm sorry for your loss, but I know you're strong. I'll be here if you need my support, Angel, as your friend or something more," Damian said, Marinette ran over and hugged him.

"Thank you, Damian. That means so much to me," Marinette said into his chest.

"You ready for dinner, Angel?" Damian asked, rubbing her back.

"Yes, just as long as it's nothing over the top as I said last night," Marinette said, looking up at the handsome boy breaking away from the hug.

"Yes, come on," Damian said as she locked the door. They walked downstairs, Damian then opens the door to his car for her.

"So where are we going?" She says, buckling her seat belt.

"It's going to be a surprise," Damian smirked, looking forward at the road, safety first.

"Can't wait," Marinette said, looking at the window, watching the city go by. "The city is so beautiful. Oh! I forgot to ask, did you get caught up in the Mr. Freeze traffic. I saw it on the news, man it must have crazy growing up in this city."

"You saw that?" Damian asked, looking over at the beautiful girl.

"Yes, it was the traffic light boy," Marinette smirked. "and Red Hood. They took him down quite fast, but Robin left quickly after Mr. Freeze was in cuffs."

"Traffic Light Boy?" He asks, remembering what Ladybug had said the night before. He smiles, knowing that the girl he wants as his girlfriend, is even more amazing than he thought.

Marinette blushes as she explains. "I didn't know Robin's name when I moved here, but my first impression was a traffic light. The designer in me died just a bit but since it's a right of passage, and it's quite honorable."

"We're here," Damian said, getting out of the car then he opens the door for Marinette. "Welcome to the first restaurant my father took me to when he first got custody of me from my mother."

"This looks so homey, what food do they serve," Marinette asked, taking a seat on a stool at the counter.

"Burgers, french fries, hotdogs, milkshakes, and pizza. I hated American food growing up because my mother had me on a strict diet," Damian said. "It's still not my favorite, but I want you to have the full American experience. Do you want to get a little of everything and just split it?"

"Sounds good," Marinette giggles. "So you've heard about me. What can you tell me about you?"

"I grew up with my mother Talia and my grandfather. They were big on self-defense, I spent a lot of time on learning martial arts; I have achieved many black belts. I don't want to talk about myself, I want to hear more about you," Damian said. The waitress came over and took their order.

"I started designing at a young age because I didn't want to be in my parents' bakery shadow. They were the best in Paris, but I didn't want to disappoint them if I wasn't as good as them. As a thirteen-year-old in collège, I started designing for Jagged Stone. I also was found by Gabriel Agreste after winning a competition. He then let me release my line," Marinette told him. The food had arrived and as Damian said they split everything. "So what do you want to do after you're done with school?"

"As the only true blood heir to Wayne Enterprises my brother decided that I would inherit the company, but they would always help me," Damian said, taking a bite of burger. "How do you like American food?"

"It's pretty good, but it seems super unhealthy. I think I'll stick to homemade Parisian food for a while. Next time I'll make the food," Marinette said, pulling out her wallet from her purse to pay.

"Ok you know that I am a son of one of the richest men in the world, but you insist on pay, why?" Damian asks, taking her wallet before she could pull out money.

"Because, my prince, you were first Damian, Titus' owner. The boy I first met was adorably nervous, complimented me, and insisted on paying for breakfast as a sorry for being tackled by his dog," Marinette said. "I'll pay the tip. It's a tip or all meal."

"Fine," Damian said, giving her back her wallet. He paid the part he said he would. They left and he held the restaurant door open then also opened his car door for her. Damian walked Marinette up to her apartment.

"Thank you, Damian, for walking me up to my apartment," Marinette said unlocking her door then turns toward him.

"Thank you for coming with me. You make me happy, Angel," Damian said looking down at her. Marinette leaned up and kissed his cheek. He leaned forward and whispered. "Angel, may I kiss you?"

"Prince, I thought you would never ask," Marinette leaned up and met his lips. They are incredibly soft. They broke their chaste kiss. "Goodnight my Prince."

"Wait, Angel, will you be my girlfriend?" Damian said stopping the door before she could finish closing it.

"I would love that," Marinette said hugging him.

"Thank you, Angel, for making my life brighter," he said, kissing her head. "Good night, Marinette."

"Good night, Damian," She closes the door with a smile, she slides to the ground.

The next morning Marinette got up and put on a straight long brown with blonde highlights wig she had bought earlier that week. She put on green contacts and wore the horse miraculous. She wore an emerald green shirt and her black skater skirt, all paired with green converse.

“Hey, Chloe,” Marinette said into her phone. “I’m about the teleport is it ok if I use your room.”

“Ya I’m here now, I’ll be waiting,” Chloe said then hung up.

“You heard Chloe, girls,” Marinette said looking at the kwamis. “Kaaliki full gallop. Full forth!"

The portal opened and she stepped through, now standing In Chloe’s room. She detransforms and hugs her friend.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Marinette said.

“It hasn’t been a week,” Chloe said.

“It feels like longer though. Guess what?” Marinette said breaking the hug now looking at her friend.

“What, you got Titus owner to be your boyfriend,” Chloe guesses, rolling her eyes. Marinette blushes. “Wait seriously? You’ve been in America for five days and you already have a boyfriend? I guess I need to come to America too. Help me pack my bags?”

“Chloe his name is Damian and he’s super sweet,” Marinette smiles.

“Lila’s fake boyfriend’s name is also Damian,” Chloe snickers and then mimics. "Her Damiboo is so shy." They laugh together and Chloe takes a closer look at Marinette. "So who are you today?" Chloe asks

"Today I am Ann Prince, and I am here to visit my dear childhood friend, Chloe," Marinette said in a British accent, twirling.

"Hello Ann I'm happy to see you again, it has been ages," Chloe says, hugging her long lost friend. "What do you have planned for today?"

"Well, I would love to see the friends your friends you speak so highly of. If I remember correctly Adrien and Kagami have a fencing tournament, then Kitty Section has a performance," Marinette said with a smile.

"I'll text my friends to let them know that my dear friend Ann is coming," Chloe said texting them. "Want some lunch before the tournament?"

"I woke up, got dressed and came here, so breakfast would be better," Marinette said as they leave Chloe's room.

"How about brunch?" she says closing the door. "There's a small cafe near here we can go to."

"That would be lovely," Marinette said as they walk together in sync they talk about everything they had missed. They eat eggs and benedict. They talk about their futures, how Chloe is doing in school, and most importantly Christmas.

When they arrive they sit in the front row. They're on the quieter side careful not to draw attention to themselves. After Kagami won the girl's division she came and sat with Ann and Chloe. She smiled seeing the bluenette turned brunette.

"Good job you guys! Hi, my name is Ann, I'm one of Chloe's childhood friends," Marinette greeted, still speaking in her British accent.

"Hi, I am Adrien Agreste, and this is my beautiful girlfriend Kagami," Adrien said, hugging Ann.

"Hello, Ann," Kagami said also hugging her. Lila and Alya walk up to the group.

"So who is your new friend, you're all so quick to replace Marinette. What? Is she a bully too?" Aha sneers.

"Well I am Ann Prince, it is a pleasure to meet you," she said, holding out a hand with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Ann you don't want to hang out with these people, they are bullies," Lila warned smiling.

"Lila, why are you here?" Adrien said, stepping in front of Ann.

"I came to see you of course Adrihoney! You are my boyfriend!" Lila screamed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Lila, I've told you many times that we are not dating. I'm dating Kagami and have been for two years," Adrien said.

"We both know your father is making you date her. I'll be here for when you can finally be free from her cold claws," Lila said, walking off with Alya tailing behind her.

"Well, you guys ready to head to Kitty Section's performance?" Marinette asks.

"Sounds like a plan, Ann," Chloe said, locking elbows as they walk out of the school.

Kitty Section is playing at the TVi studio as part of a competition judged by Uncle Jagged. Apparently, he had been a bit quieter since his niece's funeral. She was excited to see her friends and her uncle even from afar. Luka won the best guitar solo, but Kitty Section did not win as a group.

"Hi, Luka! My name is Ann and I'm an old friend of Chloe. It's nice to meet you," Marinette said still in her British accent, hugging the bluenette. "Congratulations, I loved your guitar solo! The rest of your group was pretty good."

"Thank you, Ann, you guys ready for dinner? I’m starving," Luka said turning to the rest of the group.

"That sounds great! I haven't eaten since before the competition," Adrien said, rubbing his stomach.

They ate dinner together. They chatted and she told them the news of her and Damian. She told them about the Gotham heroes and everything in between. They told her about their Christmas plans. They smile as the pay and say goodbye. She left to go talk to Master Fu.

"Master Fu, it's good to see you, she says bowing. "I ended up in America, how are you able to get me the correct papers?"

"It's good to see you again Ms. Marinette. I like the wig and contacts a simple but good disguise," Master Fu compliments. "I just have my connections, don't worry it's nothing illegal."

The process didn't take long and soon she was heading back to Chloe's room. She opened the door to see her friends sitting down watching an anime. She sat down on the couch her friends and watch half an anime before they're interrupted by a bing.

Prince: Hey Angel how are you doing

"Aww Damian is texting," Marinette said, smiling at her phone.

Angel: Pretty good. what've you been up to today?

'Prince: I had a couple of meetings today. They were boring, but I'm alive. How bout you'

Angel: Chloe video called me so I could watch Adrien and Kagami's tournament. Then Kagami video called me so I could watch Luka's performance. It was fun. Want to come to my apartment tomorrow for a homemade meal

Prince: I would love that

Angel: Great see you, tomorrow prince

Prince: It sounds like you're getting ready for bed, but do you realize it's only two o'clock

Angel: Seriously I didn't even realize it

Prince: Lost in a design?

Angel: No, Adrien recommended us all a different and new anime, Sword Art Online. It's pretty good

Prince: Well I hope you enjoy it. Dick is telling me to pay attention. Bye Angel.

Angel: Good luck, Prince.

Marinette smiles, standing up while saying. "Guys. I should be going. It's already eight here, two in Gotham. I'll miss you guys, I'll be back for Chinese New Year and regular New Year."

"Well we can't wait to see you again Ann," Adrien said, hugging the girl the rest join in the group hug.

"Kaalki, full gallop," She transforms back into Mare. "Thank you for announcing my moving, by the way. Full forth. See you guys soon." Then she was gone. She had taken some French food she had missed a bit. She put the food in the kitchen, and grabbed her sketchbook, wanting to sketch her new found inspiration from being home. After a couple of hours of designing, and a shower she went to bed early because of jet lag sorta.

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

Tag list (Open):

@northernbluetongue @melhuney @ladysblackcat @sturchling @otaku4312 @g-arya @smolplantmum @bluefyoto94 @echpr @moonlightstar64 @thesunanditsangel @cutechip @heaven428 @elmokingkong @kass-is-weird @niza13149 @urbanpineapplefarmer @ginamarie1512 @chocolatecatstheron @iggy-of-fans @crazylittlemunchkin @komatsuna-yuki @weird-pale-blonde-person @ellerahs @sinnamonroill @daminett4life @queenmj10

#ml new life au #ml salt fic #marinette x damian #damianette #batfam #maribat #lila salt #marinette x batfam #damimari #damian wayne #miraculous salt #ml x dc #wifiwrites

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queenbirbs · 4 years

Text

the way home | Ch. 6 | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Word count: 4,175

Warnings: language, N*FW

Read from the beginning or continue on

Read on AO3

Tag list: @writinghereandthere | @not-sewell

------

Two days later, the brigantine they found passage on arrives in Santo Domingo’s port.

In the grand scheme of things -- that being the two years she spent hunting down a permanent trip back to the past, and the several weeks she’s spent since then hunting down Edward himself-- it isn’t that much time. Elena’s heart still races, though, when she sees the familiar form of Salacia’s Fortune in the harbor.

“I’ll collect yer bag and bring it aboard before I leave,” Robert tells her as they make their way down the port where Edward’s ship awaits. “We can say our farewells then, and you can thank me for saving yer sorry arse again and again.”

Elena snorts, prompting a chuckle out of him.

“Please, as if.”

“I may not have always shown it, but I did come to value yer friendship.”

“Even when I kicked your ass and stole your sword?”

“Ah, but we weren’t friends then, were we?” he points out. “Besides, we both know now that I was just going easy on ye.”

“Oh, were you?”

The gangplank jostles under their weight; Elena ignores Robert’s warning to be careful as she races up to the ship’s deck. It’s nearly empty, save for three pirates who turn to frighten off the unwelcome strangers on their boat.

“Oi, who in the devil’s blaze--” one of them starts to shout before they’re silenced by a squeal.

“Elena!” Ginny shrieks, racing across the deck and plowing into her. Elena wraps her arms around the girl and hugs her tight. “We missed you so, so much.”

“I missed you, too.” Elena pulls back to study the girl. “Oh my god, Ginny, you’re so tall. How did you get so tall?”

“Being sixteen helps, I guess,” she grins.

Elena’s thoughts screech to a halt. “Sixteen? But -- wait, how long was I gone?”

“It’ll be six years next month. But we never gave up on you! Captain always told us to keep believing that you would come back.” Ginny looks up at her with those bright brown eyes of hers. “And you did, see?”

“Yeah,” Elena agrees, her voice breaking upon the word. “I did.”

Time worked differently in the future, that she always knew. But the last time she’d come back, she never learned what year it was before being dragged back to the future. Knowing that almost six years had passed since Edward last saw her made his reaction in the governor’s mansion a little more understandable.

“Captain’s out looking for you right now, actually, but he should be back soon. I told him to stay on the ship, that you would head here first obviously,” Ginny stresses the word and rolls her eyes, “but you know how he is.”

Robert sighs from beside them. “Aye, we know. I’ve business to attend to in town, but if I see him, I’ll herd him yer way, Elena.”

“Thank you,” she tells him, trying to convey as much of her gratitude into the two words as she can. “And good luck with your own search.”

The beginnings of a genuine smile flicker onto Robert’s face before he clears his throat, nodding at her once before disappearing back down the gangplank. Ginny wraps her hand around her arm and tugs.

“C’mon. You can meet the rest of the crew while we wait for the others to return.”

As much as she wants to run into town and hunt him down herself, Elena realizes that staying in one place in a town this large makes the most sense. She lets Ginny lead her over to the other two pirates, one of whom introduces herself as Ginny’s girlfriend, Lottie. They barrage her with questions about the future, most of which she skirts around answering -- she’s already caused enough trouble with the space-time continuum as it is. By the time the rest of the crew arrive, the sun has begun its descent. They take turns sweeping Elena into their sweaty, rum-scented hugs and their good-natured bickering.

“The Cap’n’ll be sorry that we beat him to ye,” Maggie says.

“Glad to have ye back, Elena.” Henry claps a hand on her shoulder and squeezes tight. “None of these swabs give my cookin’ a fair chance.”

“He once scraped barnacles off the hull and fried ‘em!” Kendrick exclaims.

From her perch atop the railing, Ginny gags. “He called them a ‘Caribbean delicacy’.”

“The only thing delicate ‘round here is yer stomachs.”

“They don’t have the experienced palette that I do,” Elena points out.

“I dunno, I don’t think even you could’ve--” Ginny pauses, her long braids swinging as she jerks back around to scan below. “Oi! Captain’s back!”

Elena races to the railing and grips it tight, nearly throwing herself overboard in her attempt to catch sight of him. Even in the dimming light, she picks Edward out of the crowd with ease. He’s distracted, moving steadily along the wharf and scouring the throngs of people. Too busy looking for her that he doesn’t see her aboard his ship. She calls his name, once, then again, before his head finally snaps up.

He stumbles to a halt in the middle of the market. A woman runs into him, chastising him in a rapid burst of Spanish. He ignores the woman, sheer elation spreading across his face. His grin is almost blinding in the low light.

“Elena!”

Shouting her name seems to kickstart him. The sack of food in his hand drops to the ground, forgotten; mangoes and bread loaves scatter across the planks. He darts through the crowd, dodging shoppers and vendors with ease before leaping up onto the gangplank. He reaches the top just as Elena does and swings her up into his arms, crushing her against him.

“You’re here,” he exhales.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I would be gone for so--”

He silences her with a kiss, and then with another when she tries again to apologize.

“Time matters not. If it had been a hundred more days or a hundred more years, I would have waited,” he assures her. “You’re here. That’s all that matters. You’re here.”

“You keep saying that.”

His breath escapes him in a soft chuckle, leaning into her touch as she cups his cheek. “I may keep doing so for the rest of my life.”

“Then I’ll be here to hear you.” At the naked hope in his gaze, she can’t help but tell him now. “We found a permanent way back. It’s what took me so long, searching for a way to stay.”

“Forever?” he repeats, the word tasting like ambrosia upon his lips.

“Yeah,” she chokes out. His thumb makes gentle sweeps along her forehead, brushing back the stray hairs there. “Forever.”

“Alright, you lovebirds.” Charlie climbs up onto the deck with a crate and sets it down with a rattle. “I say we all have a drink--”

“--or five!” Kendrick adds.

“--to celebrate our lass’s long-awaited return. What say you lot?”

The chorus of ayes echoes across the wharf. Edward drops his hold from her waist and reaches down for her hand, nodding his head towards the crew.

“Shall we?”

“Sure, why not.” She bumps their linked hands against him. “I’ve got time.”

The party continues long after the sun slinks away. Unmoored from its daytime hideaway, the moon drifts high into the sky, casting a brilliant glow across the ship as the crew celebrates. Elena’s feet hurt from taking a turn across the makeshift dance floor with each crew member. Some of the shanties she knows and some she doesn’t -- though, in her defense, they don’t seem to know them all that well, either, especially by the sixth bottle of rum.

“Ye’ve got to show us some future dances one of these days, ‘lena.”

She shakes her head at Henry’s request, side-stepping to avoid her feet being crushed again and giggling at the idea. “I’m not sure you guys would be able to handle my twenty-first century dancing.”

As if he can sense that she’s had her fill of Henry’s clumsy footwork, Edward appears beside her with an open palm.

“May I step in, Miss McTavish?”

Elena eagerly takes his hand. Henry does something resembling a curtsy and moves off to snatch up another partner. Stepping into the circle of his arms, she rests her head on Edward’s chest and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for the rescue.”

Edward brushes his lips against her hair and hums. “I suppose I should be the one thanking you for rescuing us. Even if you sent me into a panic, retreating back into enemy territory like that.”

She wants to laugh at his worries, but the heartache in his tone tells her to recount her harrowing adventures another time. Instead, she gives a reassuring squeeze to their linked hands.

“I knew that you had the opportunity to escape,” she explains. “Even if it meant leaving me behind.”

His chest tightens underneath her.

“‘Tis not fair to use my own words against me like that.”

“Not fair to guilt me for saving your asses.”

“Hmm. Touché.” There is nothing but the drunken crooning of the crew and the distant lapping of waves for a moment, then: “It’s getting rather late. Should I show you to our cabin?”

“I’d like that.”

The interior is just as she remembers.

The same Persian rug, the same tidy stacks of books and papers atop the desk, the same pile of pillows that Edward insists on having but never bothers to put back on the bed. Returned to her by Robert during the party, her duffel bag sits on top of her trunk, still in her favorite spot under the window. Her pillow, embroidered with a rose when Kendrick wanted to show off his sewing skills, lays propped against the headboard. A small jar of seashells she collected from their previous travels is tucked away safely in the bookcase. A spare coat of hers hangs from the chair; she runs her fingers over it, tears springing to her eyes at the sight.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of stowing it away,” Edward says, closing the cabin door behind them.

“You kept it this way? For six years?”

“For five years, eleven months, and two days.” Elena covers her mouth and drags in an unsteady breath. He crosses the room and guides her into his arms. “I wasn’t lying, Elena, when I told you that I would wait for you. We weren’t sitting idle, of course. We sailed across the Atlantic, o’er to Portugal and made a few trips around the Mediterranean, but there was always a… pull to return here.”

“To home,” she finishes for him.

“Aye. I even sought the help of a mystic in Constantinople to try and reach you, but I was only able to catch a glimpse. You were surrounded by other pirates, on a half-formed ship. And there were all these strange lights.”

Elena squints at the necklace he wears in concentration, scanning through her memories, when the realization hits her.

“That’s… you were there. On the set, just before the compass took me here the first time.”

“Madam Fatima did say time was tricky,” he says, to which Elena acknowledges with a humorless chuckle. “Were you… earlier, were you speaking the truth? That you found a way to stay? I have always hoped to hear you say those words, but even… even if you cannot stay forever, I would never turn my back on this strange arrangement that time has gifted us. But I would like to prepare my heart, if I could.”

Taking his face between her hands, she tilts his head down so she can meet his gaze directly.

“This isn’t some temporary fix. I spent two years searching the world over for a permanent way back to you. And sure, I don’t have faith with most things in life. The one thing I do have faith in, though, is us.”

Edward lays his hand over hers and turns to press a kiss against her palm. Under the heavy lids of his eyes, she can see the faint glittering of tears. “In fact,” she continues, “I got you something from the future to prove it to you.”

“I don’t require any further proof than you here beside me.”

“Hush and let me give you my souvenir.” Elena crosses over to the duffel bag and unzips the interior pocket. She pulls a small leather box out and hands it to him. “Open it,” she prompts when he merely stares at the object.

The golden ring sits on a velvet perch, outshone only by the deep blue stone that rests in the center. “It’s lapis lazuli. It reminded me of our first time up in the crow’s nest together, on Poseidon’s Revenge. Standing up there with you, with that endless stretch of sea and sky. That was our first moment, and I wanted the ring I chose for you to embody that.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a secretive sort of smile. Before she can ask, though, he steps over to his desk. From the drawer, he pulls a wooden box out and hands it to her.

“I believe that we are bound by the tides of fate, for I purchased this for you, as well.”

“Okay, see, that’s not fair. I made a cheesy joke about souvenirs, and you come in with your Lord Byron line.”

His brow wrinkles in confusion. “Who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says with a flap of her hand and opens the box. Nestled on a bed of silk, a ring gleams in the candlelight. Thin vines of gold twist up along the band to frame an opalescent stone. The multicolored flecks inside the stone glimmer as Edward plucks the ring from the box and reaches for her trembling hand.

“It is a moonstone. The merchant I bought it from said that it was to symbolize protection and to bring estranged lovers together.”

“It’s beautiful,” she tells him as he slides it onto her finger.

“Aye, almost as lovely as its wearer.”

“See, that’s the cheesy line I was waiting for,” Elena tells him with a soft giggle. He smiles and holds out his hand. The ring is a near-perfect size, she marvels as it works easily down his finger. “Pretty damn good for being several lifetimes away.”

“Five years, eleven months, and two days,” he repeats, his voice thick with the myriad of emotions that play across his face.

“I’m here.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him even closer and sets her lips on his once, then again, reassuring him each kiss. “You can stop counting.”

Her words strike a chord deep within; the taut lines of him seem to snap, his body colliding with hers as he backs her up against the wall. His touch is everywhere at once, clenching desperately around handfuls of her clothing and coaxing her free of the garments. Their kisses are frantic, heady things, deepening with the soft slide of his tongue against hers. Elena shoves off his coat and strips him of his belts, letting his sword clatter to the floor. The rest of his clothes join the pile at their feet. Edward wraps an arm around her back and hauls her even closer, grinning at her soft moan when her naked skin touches his.

“I have dreamt of this moment for many a night,” he admits, his stubble tickling as he nips along her bare shoulder, grasping and tugging her hair back when it blocks his path. “I had… had hoped to go slow with ye, lass.”

Elena hums at the hot feel of his hand skimming down her stomach and dragging across the soaked skin between her legs. Her head lolls back against the cabin wall. Not one to be idle, she glides her palm across the warm planes of his chest, leaving trails of heat in her wake. His hand becomes more determined, seeking out and rubbing the spot that makes her breath hitch in anticipation.

“That’s really sweet of you and all,” she chuckles. “But my dreams of this moment mostly included you fucking my brains out.”

A strangled laugh escapes him, his head shaking as he leans down for another kiss.

“Good to see that you haven’t lost that assertiveness.”

As if to prove it, Elena dances him backwards in a lazy sort of two-step until his knees hit the mattress. He loops an arm around her hips and tumbles down with her, smirking when she emits a little yelp of surprise. There, the warm length of his body slides along hers and a delicious wave of sensation follows. Her back arches towards the soft, wet heat of his lips as he worships the swell of her breasts. He traces the golden necklace she wears, curiosity lighting his dark eyes when he glances up at her. Elena gathers her hair and dips her head forward, letting him remove the whistle from around her neck. With great care, she takes it from him and lays it on the floor beside the bed. His mouth travels lower, lower, until her hands are scrambling across the blankets, her head twisting to the side as she gasps for him to keep going, for him to send her over the edge. Pleasure soaks into her like a warm bath, seeps deep into her skin and down into the marrow of her bones.

“Edward,” she murmurs, then repeats, as if seeking repentance for the sinful sensation of his mouth on her. “Please, I…” her begging is lost under a ragged whine as her release washes over her.

As her heartbeat settles, Edward returns to the circle of her embrace. He hums with content as she strokes the bare skin of his back. A rumble works through his chest at the sight of her beneath him.

“I have traveled the world over and have never found anything so exquisite as the taste of you.”

Elena settles back against the pillows and quirks her lips into a grin. “That’s high praise coming from someone who has Henry for a cook.” A giggle escapes her at his scoff.

“You just wait,” he taunts, “you’ll be crowned taste-tester again.”

“I lived off of gas station food for a long while there,” she shrugs. “I think I can handle it.”

Before he can ask about the foreign terminology -- she loves him, she really does, but that eager part of him to learn new things has to take a backseat to other enjoyment sometimes -- she winds both hands through his hair and hauls him down for a kiss. Hint taken, Edward’s lips return to hers with a fervor. She loses herself to his touch once more, answering in kind with her own when she reaches down to stroke him. With a growl, he pulls back to position himself between her legs. His fingers clamp around her hips as she makes aborted little thrusts against him, spurring him on.

“Elena,” he gasps as he sinks into her. He takes his sweet time letting her adjust to the feel of him, nibbling at the flushed skin of her throat and up to her earlobe. “Elena.”

“Yes,” she answers, cinching her legs tight around his waist. The sinful drag of him inside her is almost enough to throw her over the edge again. “Yes, god, Edward, I-- please, don’t--”

His lips crash down onto hers. His tongue swipes at her heavy bottom lip, lapping each praise from her mouth as he drives into her. Every sense is invaded by him -- his scent and his taste and his touch, until arousal clogs every synapse and every pore and the concept of spontaneous combustion tips closer to a theory for her.

One of his hands slips down to stroke her to the rhythm of his thrusts. She moans, her nails digging into the solid muscle along his arms.

“Elena, love,” he growls, his teeth scraping along her jaw as he speaks, “come for me.”

The first wave drags her under, a breaking wave of sensation cresting right on top of the last. She’s vaguely aware of her body going taut under his, of her toes curling against the slick skin of his thighs, of the beautiful sight of Edward tumbling over the edge with her. He pulls out and collapses next to her on the bed, holding her close as she settles against his chest. Elena stretches with a long groan, uncaring of the stupid, sated smile on her face.

“Did you put in a skylight?” she murmurs.

The hand tracing nonsensical patterns across her shoulder slows. “What?”

“I was… making a joke. About seeing stars.”

“Oh.” Elena looks up to meet his confused gaze, prompting them both to chuckle at the poor joke. “I have missed this,” he says. “Not just the sex, but this -- you, here by my side. Poseidon himself could promise me a better sight, and I would not believe him.”

A hum leaves her as she nestles closer into his warmth, her throat tightening around the thousand things she wants to tell him.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that first night?”

“Aye, I do.”

Elena presses a kiss to his chest, just above his heart.

“I think I’m ready for the rest of our story.”

------

Soft slivers of fuschia and lilac seep through the salt-streaked window. Fissures of vivid orange follow after as sunlight spills over the long line of the horizon. Elena watches the play of colors across Edward’s face, lax with sleep. Of the past two times she’d returned to his side, she’d been flung back to her century before the next dawn came. It’s no wonder, then, that his arm has stayed firmly wrapped around her throughout the night.

Gradually, he awakens; his arm flexes and his fingers clench and his eyes flutter open to search for her.

“Good morning,” he rumbles, his voice rough with sleep.

“Hi.” She leans up on her elbow and captures his lips with a kiss. “I’m glad you’re awake. I want to do something with you.”

“Really?” A lascivious grin spreads across his face. “Do tell.”

With a sigh, Elena swats at his chest and sits up. “C’mon, you rapscallion.”

They locate their clothes and get dressed. After several more kisses, she leads him out onto the deck. The endless expanse of the ocean greets them, her water almost as blue as the morning sky. Santo Domingo is but a faint scratch of land behind them. With most of the crew still sleeping in their quarters, the shadowed corner of the stern is all theirs. Stepping up to the railing, she pulls the necklace from her pocket.

“I noticed that last night. What is it?” he asks.

“It’s what I spent two years searching for.” She traces the initials on the whistle and looks up at him. “It’s my way back to my time. Before we found it, I’d almost given up. I was desperate enough to come back by another anomaly, just to have the chance to see you one last time.”

“One last…?” he trails off, reaching for her hand and taking it between both of his. “Elena?”

“You didn’t deserve to live like this, to wait on me to find my way back, to waste your time sailing the--”

“Listen good and well,” he demands, anger darkening his features just before he crushes her against him in a tight embrace. “Searching for you, waiting on you ‘twas never a waste. I love you, and I would’ve never given up on you. But I am damned glad that you’re here to stay now.” He pulls back enough to glance between the necklace and her. “What do you intend to do with it?”

“I’m returning it.”

Leaning up on her toes, she plants a quick kiss to his cheek before she stretches her arm out over the railing and lets go. The necklace shimmers as it falls, plummeting straight into the water below. A shuddering breath escapes them both as the whistle disappears beneath the waves.

“By the way,” Elena says after a quiet moment, “I love you, too.”

“Oh. Good.” With a smirk, he pulls her closer. “It would be rather awkward if you didn’t.” He leans down and captures the laughter from her lips.

“Oi!” Henry shouts from behind them. “Breakfast is ready!”

They pull away from each other, sharing a wordless conversation as he draws closer.

“We’ll be down in a moment, Henry!” Edward calls across the deck. “Captain McTavish and I will take watch and let the rest of the crew eat first.”

“Nay, it may’ve been a long while, but I’m not fallin’ for that one again! C’mon and get it while it’s hot.”

“He’ll just keep at it if we don’t come,” she mutters.

“Aye, lass, he will.”

“Alright.” A smile follows her long-suffering sigh. “Let’s go.”

Reaching down for her hand, Edward leads her across the deck and out into the morning sun.

#distant shores #edward x mc #edward mortemer #distant shores fic #f: the way home #Kaila writes things #this is the last official chapter and next is the epilogue and then it's done!

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wittystarkk · 4 years

Text

The Last Five Years || Bucky Barnes || Part Six

author: wittystarkk

word count: 3.8k

relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader

chapter title: The Shmuel Song

A/N: Hello everyone! So - real quick. This is one of my all time favorite chapters of this fic. It’s cute and dumb and loving. I really hope that you enjoy it and I would love feedback! Thank you for reading. (-:

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Bucky’s head snapped up from his script the moment he heard (Y/N)’s keys in the door, the deadbolt sliding out of action. He stood from his seat on the lumpy, old red couch, throwing his script down onto the table. “Babe,” he greeted with a bright smile, watching her walk into the apartment. She looked pissed off. Her nose was flared and her eyes were narrowed, her shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion. The corners of his mouth pulled down in his best ‘yikes’ expression, looking her over from head to toe. “How was work?” He asked, though he knew the answer.

“I hated it,” she declared in a voice that radiated the very anger he saw in her posture and on her face. “Stupid fucking bar.” She grumbled, walking around him and past the living room. She removed her jacket from her shoulders, throwing it on the couch just before she had cleared it. He bit his bottom lip, deciding to let her change out of her work clothes before he tried talking to her. He watched her discard her shoes by her side of the bed, his hand in his fist. She was storming around the apartment like she wanted to break something, or punch something at the very least.

“You look very nice,” Bucky tried. She gave him a glare in response.

She wrestled the belt out of her jeans and threw it on the floor beside the bed, huffing loudly. He watched her with raised eyebrows, wondering what her next move was going to be. “Did you get good tips at least?” He ventured, being met with a grunt.

“Are you writing a book?” (Y/N) wondered, resting her hands on her hips. “Cause, if so. You should leave this chapter out.”

Bucky frowned, he hated when his girlfriend was snappily sarcastic with him. The two were at a standstill again. She returned to changing, and he was left standing there feeling kind of bad.

“Are you working on anything tonight?” He wondered, trying again to have a conversation with her. He knew when she got like this that it would be hard to pry her out of her angry mood.

“Like what?” She asked.

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “Maybe that story you were writing the other night? Or that episode for that show you wanted to pitch? Maybe that scrap book your friend wanted?” He stopped offering ideas when she seemed more aggravated with him. She walked out of his line of sight and he was just about to follow after her when he heard something drop. She let out a scream of anger. Bucky bound towards the bedroom just as she was storming out of the bathroom, yanking a sweater on over her head. (Y/N) didn’t say a word to him, nearly bumping into him on her walk to the couch. She laid down on her side, facing the back of the couch. Bucky’s face fell as he watched his girlfriend tuck her arms against her chest, curling up against herself. He knew her working at the bar would end badly, and he hated that he was right.

He crossed to the couch, leaning over to pick her legs up, moving them onto his own lap when he sat down. She grumbled something he couldn’t understand. “Don’t you have a thing sometime later this week? A pitch or something?”

“I’m not going,” her voice was half muffled by the couch and the sweater bunching up around her neck.

Bucky’s brows furrowed, “why?”

“They’re not going to buy it,” she said, adjusting her legs on his lap, rolling over just enough to be able to look at him.

“Don’t say that,” he took a deep breath. “You know that it’s good, (Y/N). You’re just upset because you had a bad day at work.” Bucky began softly rubbing her leg, giving her calve a comforting squeeze.

“I’m saying it because I suck.”

Bucky sighed heavily, squeezing her calve again. He lifted her leg, pressing a kiss just below her knee. “You don’t suck,” he reassured. He kissed her knee again, a smile on his lips. “Hey! I have a little surprise for you, in the form of a story.”

“Baby, no, please.”

“Come on,” he laughed, pushing her legs off of his lap to stand up.

“No, I’ve had such a shitty day,” (Y/N) whined, rolling over to her back. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching him sit down at her crafting table across the room from her.

“I have been working on this for like, hours. So, you’re gonna sit up and listen to this for five minutes.” Bucky wrapped her measuring tape for fabrics around his neck, picking up a spindle of thread.

“You know,” (Y/N) cleared her throat. “You’re no writer or story teller, babe. You’re an actor. You remember that, right?”

Bucky mockingly stuck his tongue out at his girlfriend, “I’ve learned a thing or two by being with you. Just. Give it a chance, okay?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “do I have a choice?”

He laughed happily, “no. But don’t worry! It’s a Christmas story.. Sort of. You like Christmas. It’s the tale of Shmuel, the tailor from Klimovich.”

“Is Klimovich a real place?” She snarked.

“Silence from the audience, please. Thank you,” Bucky cleared his throat. He took a second to continue, deepening his voice a tad. “Every day Schmuel would work until a little past ten at night in his little tailor shop -”

“In Klimovich?” (Y/N) interrupted, liking the way the word sounded.

“Hey, this isn’t a kindergarten group reading, babe. Keep it down.”

She smirked, mouthing the word ‘sorry’.

Bucky nodded his acceptance of her apology, continuing with his story. He turned a little in his chair, fiddling with the fabric (Y/N) had draped over the body form she had standing in front of the desk.

“Hey, don’t touch my things!”

He sighed, putting his fingers to his lips. “Shmuel would sew and mend, his fingers knobby and rough from constantly handling pins. He had spent forty-one years in his little shop, creating things few could imagine him possible. He was an expert at his craft, a master some would say. He was showered with praise from anyone who purchased one of his suits, or had him alter someone else’s. He never once received a single complaint. Everyone thought Shmuel, the little old tailor, had everything he had ever wanted. But there was one thing Shmuel missed.”

“Babe,” she whined, wanting the story to end before it really began. Bucky ignored her in favor of continuing the story he’d worked so hard to come up with.

“It was closing time at his little shop, and Shmuel was feeling particularly down about his life. You know, because when you’re old you get upset about things a lot.”

“Sounds like you,” she teased.

“‘If I only had time’, old Shmuel said to his empty shop. The lights were all off except for the one above his sewing table. ‘I would give up the suits, and sew a dress. The gorgeous dress I’ve been thinking about for decades. A dress so beautiful it would light a fire in the hearts of any girl from here to Minsk. But I have no more time left to sew. ’ Shmuel hung his head, tears in the old man's eyes. He felt sad and remorseful over not being able to sew his dress.”

She rolled her eyes, “Klimovich and Minsk? Where the hell did you come up with these places?” He glared at her as she shifted from her back to her other side, propping her head on the arm of the couch to watch him as he mimicked what she could only assume were Shmuel’s actions.

“Stop talking,” he repeated. She sighed, motioning with her hand for him to continue. “Just then, the clock on the wall began glowing. Shmuel grabbed at his chest in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing!” Bucky leaned back against the chair, holding his hand over his heart like an old man being terrified. “The clock cried out to Shmuel, “wait, Shmuel. I have heard your words, and I am going to grant you time. Unlimited time.”

Bucky stood from the chair, picking up an umbrella. He stretched on arm above his head and held the other out, the umbrella gripped tightly in his hand. “I’m a magical clock,” he supplied for her.

“I got that.” She looked him over. “You know, I’ve never been more attracted to you?”

Bucky smirked, “hush.” He took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “The clocks hands began reversing.” He did a spin, conveying the clocks actions. “And it called to Shmuel, ‘go! Sew Shmuel. Sew the dress that’s in your head!”

He dropped the umbrella to the floor, returning to sit down on the chair. He hunched his shoulders forward a bit to present himself as an older man. “Shmuel, believing he was going mad, shook his head at the clock. ‘No’, Shmuel had said. ‘No, it’s not right. I’ve got to accept the little time I’ve got.’ Shmuel looked at the clock that was on his wrist, seeing that it was once again the exact time to leave the shop. “‘Oh, look.’ Shmuel said. ‘It’s time to go’. And so he stood and began packing his things, but the clock wasn’t ready to give up!”

He stood again, back hunched. He began picking up a few items from the desk, placing them into a small box. (Y/N) groaned, holding her hand out. “Why do all of my things have to come into this?” She complained. “Use your own stuff if you wanna tell some damn story.”

He ignored her, finishing his process of packing up. “Shmuel finished packing up, ‘really it’s time I leave,’ Shmuel said again to the shop. ‘Goodnight, old Klimovich.’ Shmuel called out, pulling his coat onto his frail shoulders. He was nearly ready to go when the clock cried out ‘wait! Not yet!”

Bucky bent to grab the umbrella again, standing up straight. “Pretty good right?” He asked (Y/N), winking at her as he put his arms in the position for the clock.

She scoffed, “I’m riveted.”

He blew her a kiss, straightening his arms out. “The clock spoke loudly to Shmuel, ‘Even though you may not be the wisest, or the richest, you certainly are the finest man we have in Klimovich. Listen to me, Shmuel. Make the first stitch of the dress, and you’ll see that you will get what I have promised.”

He dropped his arms back to his side, hiding the umbrella behind his back as he hunched over again, going back into his role of Shmuel. “Shmuel gave a sigh and shook his head, ‘clock.’ Shmuel said, ‘it’s gotten so late. It’s fine. I’m happy. I’ve made peace with my life, clock. I’ve accepted that this is my fate.”

Bucky once again took on the posture of the clock, “the clock was growing frustrated with Shmuel. It wanted to convince him immediately and was beginning to find his reluctance headache inducing. The clock spoke to him again, ‘Shmuel. Just make one stitch, and you will unlock all of the dreams you have let slip through your fingers.’”

He hunched over once again, “Shmuel gave in, deciding he was dreaming. That he had fallen asleep at his desk and that he should just entertain this stupid clock dream. He grabbed his thread, and a bolt of velvet, and settled down to get to work.” Bucky sat down in his chair, pantomiming Shmuel gathering his things. “As Shmuel prepared to start working he stopped and turned to the clock saying, ‘I sure hope I took out my teeth before I fell asleep. God, Shmuel. Dreaming of talking clocks’. And he would shake his head, and then for some reason I figured that the clock and Shmuel would dance.”

She shook her head quickly, “there isn’t a chance in hell I’m dancing with you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I figured.” He grumbled, getting back into character. “Anyway, so Shmuel put the thread in the needle, and he got ready to sew. And the moon was full and bright and it was lighting up the whole shop from the big windows in the front, and there were no stars, which I only note because I saw it all in my head and you need to too.”

“I couldn’t care less, baby. But. Continue, please.”

“Anyway. He began sewing the black velvet into this gorgeous gown that I’m sure women would fight each other for. And the clock was reversing rapidly, minutes rewinding the entire time Shmuel worked. You know, like VHS tapes? That was the clock. And Shmuel was so concentrated he couldn’t even bother looking back at the clock to see that it was real. That time really was going back.”

Bucky sounded a little breathless after rambling but continued nevertheless. “Shmuel cut pieces of lace and attached them to the dress, adding buttons and ribbons in the back to make that - that kind of - what the hell are those things called?”

“Corset?” She supplied and he gave her a big, thankful smile.

“He added buttons and ribbons to create the corset in the back of the dress, and the entire time the world was continuing to wind back.” Bucky motioned for (Y/N) to sit up, which she did just out of curiosity for what he would do. He gave her a smile as he draped garland around her neck, smiling at his decorated girl. He grabbed bows from the desk that were meant for presents, attaching them to the garland. “I’m decorating you, like the dress.” Bucky explained, kissing her nose. She gave him an amused smile, going along with his weird antics.

Bucky took a deep breath, delving back into his story. “Anyway. Every single thing Shmuel did to this dress was like it had been destined by God. And it was perfect. Every cut and stitch was made without a single error. Shmuel had never sewn something as effortlessly in his entire life. It was clear to him that this was meant to be. In a fit of amazement, Shmuel realized that time was turning back. He began crying and he shouted to the clock, ‘take me back! Take me back all forty-one years!” Bucky held his hands out in front of him as if he were begging with all of his might. She had to hand it to him, he was a decent actor.

“It went on and on in the small little shop on that silent little street in Klimovich. The clock reversing as Shmuel worked and sweat and cried over his gown. And of course, Shmuel took his time making sure that not a single swatch of fabric or inch of thread went to waste as he perfected his dress.” Bucky turned, removing a sheet from the wall that (Y/N) hadn’t even noticed before. “The sun began rising on that endless night, as Shmuel stretched his body. He was finally finished with this dress, this magnificent dress.” Bucky leant under the desk, plugging in a cord. The wall that had been previously covered with a sheet lit up. Strings of Christmas lights had been tacked up onto the wall in the most hodgepodge of way, and all (Y/N) could do was smile.

Bucky removed the tape measure from around his neck, dropping it back to the desk. He smoothed his fingers through his hair, breathing in deeply. He could feel his mouth beginning to get a little dry. He reached his hands out to (Y/N), who took a moment before reluctantly giving in, allowing him to pull her up from the couch. He spun her a little before holding her close to him, swaying ever so slightly while he continued his tale. “Shmuel at last was finally happy, finally felt complete. He’d managed to sew 41 years worth of dreams into the seams of that dress. Dreams that Shmuel could feel were beginning to become real, just as the clock promised. He had done it. He’d finally accomplished the one thing he’d always held himself back from. He’d finally made it. His perfect, wonderful dress.”

Bucky kissed (Y/N) softly on the lips, rubbing his thumb over her cheek before letting her go. He motioned for her to sit on the bench before the bed, thankful that their studio apartment was small and practically completely open. She obediently did so, gripping onto the edge of the bench while he busied himself with the rest of his story. “This was the dress that he’d labored over for more hours than anyone would ever know, thanks to the clock of course. A dress that had been in his head since he was a boy. The dress was Shmuel’s true masterpiece. Anyone who looked at that dress would have fallen madly in love.”

He winked at her, reaching beside the fireplace to produce another string of Christmas lights which he began wrapping around the body form. “And according to the papers this was the very dress that a young girl in Odessa wore on the day she got married to a young man named Shmuel. A man who she vowed to love for the rest of her life.” Bucky shrugged, “I heard that it was a beautiful ceremony.” He plugged the end of the light strand into the wall, letting the body form light up.

Bucky stood beside the body form with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling lovingly at (Y/N). She couldn’t help but return his smile, her eyes a little watery at the effort the love of her life had put into this work of fiction. “That was pretty good,” she acknowledged. “A little choppy, but it was fun.” She joked, smiling the entire time she’d spoken.

“I’m not done yet,” Bucky informed her. “Many had hoped and dreamed and even prayed to any higher power to get out of their small town of Klimovich. Though, they never could seem to get away. Could never get their break, could never escape their home.” Bucky closed the distance between him and (Y/N), kneeling down in front of her. “You know? I think that if Shmuel had been a cute girl, he’d have looked a hell of a lot like you.”

(Y/N) gasped, eyes going wide. “I’m Shmuel?”

Bucky nodded, laughing a bit. “Oh, yeah.”

(Y/N) glared at him, pointing at her own chest. “I’m not the girl from Odessa?” She asked, having assumed the entire time that Bucky would have been Shmuel. That this story would have ended with him saying that was just his way of telling her he loved her. She felt a tad embarrassed.

“Maybe it’s because you’re afraid to go out on to a limb-ovich?” Bucky tried, pleased when (Y/N) laughed, her face losing the shock it had just held. “No?” He asked.

“No,” (Y/N) confirmed.

He shook his hand dismissively. “Maybe it’s because your heart’s completely in it, but you know, maybe your brain just can’t follow through?” Bucky sighed, taking (Y/N)’s hand in his own. “But baby.. Shouldn’t I want the world to see the brilliant, and gorgeous girl that inspires me every single day?”

(Y/N) bit on her lip, watching him carefully. She knew where he was headed and she was less than prepared. “Bucky,” she whispered, trying to stop the course of this conversation.

“Don’t you think now’s a good time to be the ambitious freak you are, (Y/N)? C’mon. You can’t keep wiping ashtray’s at the bar. You can’t continue temping, baby. You’re so much better than that. You’re so talented it’s insane. Someone has to see that, acknowledge that. You know? Stop letting yourself get discouraged. Stop getting in your own beautiful little head and telling yourself you aren’t good enough. You’ve got to believe in yourself, babe. You know I do.” He brought her hand up to his lips, placing a kiss to the back of it. “C’mon,” he said, standing up with her. He lifted her by her hips, placing her onto her feet on the bench. “Say hello to (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), a big time novelist.” He held his arms out, mocking the cheers of a crowd.

(Y/N) laughed, hiding her face in embarrassment. “Bucky,” she said in between laughs, finally giving in. She shook her head, arms stretching out to her sides. She stuck her tongue out at him before bowing to him, pretending to accept a bouquet of roses. Bucky clapped for her, shaking his head at her theatrics. “You’re a ham,” he declared, holding his hands out to her to help her down from the bench.

When she was on her feet in front of him he pecked her nose. “Here,” he said, turning from her to grab something from atop the dresser to his left. (Y/N) sat back down on the bench, furrowing her brows as she accepted the package from him. She looked at him for permission before tearing the wrapping paper off, smiling down at the package of paper in her hands. “For your printer,” he supplied before she could ask him what it was for. “So you can print out your manuscript.. Though, now I guess you have to finish it.” He winked at her, producing another smaller package from the dresser, placing it atop the package of paper before getting on his knees again in front of her. “And there’s the ink,” he told her while she unwrapped it.

“Bucky, this is so sweet, but I don’t think I can.” (Y/N) shook her head, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the lips. Bucky shrugged, taking the paper and ink from her lap. He set them beside her leg before reaching underneath the bench, pulling out a small box which he held up to her.

“Take a breath, take a chance, and take your time baby.” Bucky offered her the box, which she gladly accepted. When the string was untied and the lid was removed she saw a brilliant gold watch situated atop a bed of decorative tissue papers. “You’ve got time baby. You just have to do it.”

Bucky removed the watch from the box, holding it out to (Y/N). She held her wrist up, allowing Bucky to slip the watch on her and fasten it. He kissed her wrist, just above the watch, before resting his hands on her knees, looking up at her. “Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be in love with you?”

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miraclesnail · 4 years

Note

I remember telling you about the mice helper dream & Cinderella Will bit honestly Tangled but with willvis, charming theif Eugene=Travis,and Sunny Rapunzel with magic healing hair given by the sun=Will that is all (this is also my excuse to have Will with long hair)

Yes! Men with long hair are very nice!

ANd I’m sorry for taking so long to reply, exams and all ^^;

Tangled is actually one of my favorite Disney movies and idk I thought this up while studying for my exams last week. 5k fic under the cut!

child and animal abuse, anxiety, insecure!Will, animal death,

Changes: no friend like Pascal for Will, takes place during October and it’s snowing rather than in May, and I feel like Rapunzel and Will have two different mindsets when it comes to rule-breaking and what is acceptable so it won’t be 100% like the movie, sorry if that was what you wanted, Luke-Life ^^;

He’s born into the world, healthy and bright-eyed, snuggled in his mother’s arms and father’s embrace and brothers’ curiosity, all too soon taken away from the palace’s ground to an isolated tower.

He’s one and he’s walking by himself without help, waddling, clinging to his mother’s hands, to the furniture to the walls, walking in loops and loops and loops all over the tower, babbling halted at once under his mother’s annoyed groan.

He’s two and he can kinda/almost/nearly brush his hair on his own, but his hands are not wide enough to grab the handle and he so sorely wishes they are, just so Mother can stop doing this arduous task for him like she so often reminds him of.

He’s three and says his first sentence, the sentence his mother always sings while brushing his hair, flowers gleam and glow, let your power shine. It makes his mother particularly happy and he beams, wanting nothing more than his mother’s praises again.

He’s four and enamoured with singing, everything and anything, babbles and mumbles, fake and real words, but especially the song that makes his hair glows a pretty gold that chases away all the darkness.

He’s five and listens, raptured, as his mother tucks him in. “There are bad people out there, Will. People who will use your powers for evil. Promise me you will stay here. Promise me you won’t ever leave the tower,” she says and he smiles. He nods. He clings to his mother’s hand as she brushes his hair back and says, “I promise.”

He’s six and learning how to read. It’s really, really hard and mother gets increasingly more frustrated with him and starts calling him stupid, dimwit, slow. That part isn’t so fun, but what he is reading, what he is learning is fun and cool and he wants to read more! He wants to read everything!

He’s seven and learning how to sew, how to crochet, how to knit, how to draw, how to handwrite, how to play chess and checkers and poker and speed, how to make origami paper art, how to dance, how to wrap a bandage, how to write an autobiography, how to everything. He wants to learn how to do everything!

He’s eight and tries to be a good son, tries to cook dinner for his mother and him because he has nothing better to do and mother already does so much. But it all goes wrong. A fire starts. His mother appears from nowhere and puts it out and now he’s blinking back tears as mother yells at him, about how he nearly killed her, how he nearly burned his hair, how he hurt her and he’s sorry. He’s so sorry.

He’s nine and shaking as his mother yells at him and he doesn’t understand why she’s yelling, all he wanted was a book about history and no wait, he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to backtalk, don’t burn his books, wait wait wait wait don’t —

He’s ten and waving goodbye as his mother leaves to get food like she does everyday, leaving him alone with only pencils and brushes as company. He can’t… He doesn’t… No, shut up. You’re being ungrateful. But sometimes… sometimes he wonders if this is all his life will be.

He’s eleven and lonely.

He’s twelve and bored.

He’s thirteen and bored.

Fourteen. Bored.

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Bored. Bored. Bored.

Then he’s eighteen and he’s panicking. For the first time ever, he is really, truly panicking.

It’s October and the first snow is falling. He had kept the window open because he doesn’t like the darkness and to his surprise and now growing horror, at the cave’s entrance is a man. Not well clothed for the winter storm but clothed enough for Will to know that is not his mother. His mother only has black cloaks and this man is wearing a white one. His mother has long, luscious black hair and this man has tufts of brown on his uncovered head.

Will watches, tucked under the balcony edge, as the man wander around in the snow slowly … slowly … slowly coming closer to his tower. What should he do? What should he do? Oh no, what should he do?

No, no. Calm down. Mother warned him about this. This was always a possibility. She had done her best but she couldn’t wipe the secrets of his hair’s magical powers from all of history. She said people might come for him and spins webs of lies to lure him out.

Today is that day.

Think, Will. The man hasn’t noticed you yet. Don’t let yourself be seen. You have time to think of what to do — oh god. The man is coming to the tower. He’s checking out the tower. He’s climbing the tower.

Oh no. Oh no. oh no oh no oh no ohnoohnoohnoohnonononononononoonnonono.

What should he do? What is he supposed to do? What did mother told him to do if this ever happened? Hide? Run? Scream? Hide and then escape? Drop an anvil down on the intruder’s head? The man is halfway up now. Make a decision. You’re running out of time.

Don’t panic, Will. Don’t panic.

Three fourths of the way up.

Time to panic. It’s time to panic.

He can hear the man now, his boots scruffing on the icy stone wall.

He’s out of time. Act now!

Just as the trespasser’s hand grips the window ledge, Will ducks into his closet… into… his very old… and very creaky closet. Not his brightest moment but there’s no time to find a new hiding spot. Hair bundled in one arm, Will closes the closet door with his free hand just as the man’s head pops up over the ledge.

There’s a grunt. A yelp as a body hits the floor. And joints cracking like someone is stretching.

The man is inside.

Oh my god someone is inside his tower.

He can’t breathe. He doesn’t dare breathe. He doesn’t dare move. Blood drums in his ears. His hands start to shake. Why didn’t he bring a weapon with him in here? His shearing scissors was right there. And so was his knitting sticks. Why didn’t he grab those? Why why why whywhywhyhwhywhywhy—

“Uh, hello?” the man says and Will nearly has a heart attack. He blindly thinks of what he has in his closet he can use as a weapon (hanger, scarves, shoes, a coat, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothingnothingnothing)

“Is anyone here?”

He hears boots scruff on his tile floor. The man is walking around now. Oh god please don’t check the closet. Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t. Please—

“I thought I saw someone up here. Sorry, I just have to ask a few questions and I’ll be on my way.”

Will swallows as he hears more boot scruffing.

“Please, this is kinda important. I’m at my wit’s end and I’m getting pretty desperate.”

His mind buzzes. The man… the man doesn’t sound like what mother described the outside world, greedy and mean and power hungry. The man almost sounds… scared, human even. No. This is a trick. It has to be a trick. They’re trying to lure him out. Don’t fall for their trick, Will. He’s smarter than that.

“Please is anyone here? Just a few questions, I swear. I’m not here to rob you or anything. I know it looks kinda bad, me entering without permission, but I promise it’s for a very good reason. Oh wow, I am definitely not making myself look any better.”

Will’s could feel his resolve quivering. The man sounds so sincere. He doesn’t sound like a bad person at all. Maybe mother was wrong and

A plate shatters and Will’s blood freezes over. Dangerous. He’s dangerous. You’re so stupid, Will, what were you about to do?

“Oh fudgesticks! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see that table there! Uh, um, hhhnn, I-I I’m really sorry. I….I … ”

The words tapered off, and Will presses himself closer to door, ears straining to pick up the words. He’s certain now. There’s pain laced in the man’s voice. Is he hurt? He is a bit too wordy to be hurt, but it could be shock making him act like this. No, Will. Think. This man climbed a 40 feet tower without help. He can’t be hurt.

“I…I… what am I doing? Look at yourself, Travis. Searching in random forests, breaking into random towers, and destroying private belongings. This is the quickest way to get arrested and hanged. Then who’s going to help Connor, huh? The town? I don’t think so. Mom and Dad? Not likely. You. Need. To. Get. Yourself. Together. And the first step in getting yourself together is self-reflection. And based on my self-reflection, I … I can’t believe I just entered into someone’s home without permission. Oh god, I really am getting desperate. What am I doing?”

Will bites his bottom lip. The man is hurt. Just not physically.

His hand presses against the door.

Don’t… whatever you’re about to do, don’t.

But the man is in pain. He can’t ignore someone in pain…

Mother will be furious.

Mother will understand. She’s always telling him everybody outside is horrible and selfish, but if he doesn’t help then doesn’t that make him a horrible person too? He’s supposed to be different.

He wants to be different.

What if it’s a trick? What if the man is lying?

Just a peek then. He’ll take a quick peek to see if the man is acting and Will pushes on the door just a tad. The hinges creak and he winces but there’s no voice, no boots scruffing, no noise and Will shifts to see through the crack.

The man — no, a boy, a boy around his age? — sits on the floor with his head buried in his hands, hunched over and defeated.

He doesn’t look dangerous, his mind supplies. He doesn’t seem to have any weapons on him. No knives, no machetes, no bows and arrows, but he does have a satchel and that could have a weapon. Other than that though, he seems safe. So what? You’re going to comfort a complete stranger who may, may not be here to kidnap you for your hair? Are you really that dumb? You’re really going to prove your mother right?

Will chews on his cheeks, stricken with doubt and paralyzed by his fear. Before he can decide on a course of action, the boy stands and Will can see his face for the first time.

He’s crying. The boy is crying and suddenly there’s fire running through his veins that’s not entirely panic.

Why are you crying? What’s wrong? I want to help you. Please don’t look so sad. Everything stays locked inside like it should, but Will hates how he couldn’t stop himself from pushing the closet door open more.

The boy runs a hand across his cheeks angrily, wiping away the tear tracks, before about-facing and walking to the open window.

He’s leaving now…

Why doesn’t that spark relief like it should?

Will tries to keep his eyes on the boy, but he lost his balance and now he’s falling out of his closet. His hands slap on the tile loudly to catch his fall and the boy definitely hears that. He spins around the same time Will raises his head and they lock eyes.

Fear, panic, self-hatred at his ineptness all course through him as he scrambles to his feet and backs away, tripping over his hair in the meanwhile. His mind is drawing a blank on what to say. He still doesn’t have a weapon. And when is Mother coming back?!

The boy stares at his face first and his hair second, and shit. Mother was right. The boy is here to steal his power for himself. He’s in trouble. Don’t go down without a fight. This is my hair. No one will use it unless I want them to.

The boy’s eyes widen in awe, but they’re more like those of a child — innocent and curious — with no hint of malice. He could be acting. He could be lying. Don’t be tricked.

“Woah. That’s… That’s a lot of hair. Way too much hair. How did you manage to fit all that inside that dinky, old closet? No, wait, how much shampoo and conditioner do you go through a month? Which company do you buy from? They probably don’t need any other customers thanks to you.”

“I don’t wash my hair.” Wow, his voice didn’t come out as shaky as he thought it would and wow, that was not what he meant to say.

The boy’s mouth turns upwards into an uncertain grin. “Uh, sure? Sorry, I came in uninvited. I did ask, but you didn’t say no.”

Will’s eyes narrows. “Asked? You didn’t asked. You just started climbing.”

“Well, at the bottom, I shouted if I could come up and you didn’t say no so…”

He did? Will wracks his brain, but he can’t remember much due to his panic. Don’t take his word for it.

Will takes a deep breath and steels himself. Don’t be afraid. “What do you want?”

The boy smiles wider, but still unsure. “Hi, my name is Travis.” And Travis holds out a hand for some reason.

Will stiffens, but the hand just remains between them, increasingly becoming more and more awkward until the hand drops back down to Travis’s side.

Travis coughs. “Okay, um, well, I was wondering if you have seen this yellow, glowing flower. It’s about yay big and this long and — ah, let me pull up a picture.” Travis is reaching into his satchel and Will’s breathing quickens. Blood roars in his ears. He sidesteps to the stool where he keeps his shearing scissors. When Travis pulls his hand out of his bag, Will pulls his scissors with him too and I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not—

“Have you seen this flower?”

Travis is holding an unfurled scroll. Will blinks at the item, looking back to Travis, before going to the scroll again. Is he really not here for my hair?

Travis is patient as Will squints at the drawing on the parchment. It’s a flower with a great semblance to lilies, but nothing like the flowers his mother brings back with her. He shakes his head and the way Travis’s face fell hurts him more than he expected. He’s disappointed. You disappointed him. All our fault. All your fault.

“Oh, I see. I figured. That’s what most people say too. I’ll get out of your home now I guess.” And Travis is turning his back on him, defeated again.

And Will hates that. He can’t stand to see that.

“Wait.”

Wait? No! Leave! Go! Mother is going to kill him if she comes back to find him here!

Travis pauses and glances over his shoulder with eyes that’s so unfairly sad. Or maybe it’s just you’re so unfathomably weak, Will.

“My mother…” Will swallows, Stop, you can still stop now, and wets his mouth before proceeding. “My mother travels a lot. She might have seen the flower.”

It’s like flicking a switch. Travis stops hunching. The smile that follows is enough to blind him. Travis bounds back to him, laughing and smiling so hard it’s enough for Will to smile too.

“Really? This is incredible! You’re literally the first person I met who helped me! When can I meet her? Is she here right now?”

He talks fast, Will thinks. Because he has something to hide. Will slowly processes the barrage of questions and formulates the answer in his head. “She’s out right now. She doesn’t really like visitors,” he answers carefully.

Travis nods. “Oh yeah, I totally get it. Stranger danger, you know. All of that.”

“I don’t think you get it. You broke into my home,” Will deadpans and Travis frowns.

“Correction. Breaking in requires me unlocking a door or window. Your window, however, was wide open. So technically… I wasn’t breaking in.” Travis says with a beaming smile, shrugging. It’s hard to believe just moments ago, this guy was crying.

Think, Will. This guy can act. He’s tricking you. Push him out of the tower.

Will swallows and slips his scissors into pockets. “You should leave before my mother comes back.”

Again, that crestfallen face. Will fights the urge to change his mind. “I’ll ask her tonight. Let me look at it again and around midnight, you can come—”

“Ohhhhh, Will!”

No.

“Let down your hair!”

No! It’s too early! Why is she back so early?

“Is that her?” Travis asks excitedly. “I can talk with her now!”

Travis starts to run towards the window and without thinking, Will grabs Travis’s clothed wrist and pulls him back. Travis yelps and loses his balance. Will catches him, but he didn’t let go of the wrist and Travis didn’t pull away.

Instead Travis turns around slowly, delicately and his face is far too worried for Will’s liking.

“You can’t talk with her. She… She doesn’t— ” His mother’s enraged face from seven years ago pops into mind, her pulling the cat out of his arms, her hurling the cat out the window, Ms. Fluffy’s screeching ending abruptly, and his mother brushing his tears aside with a thumb and murmuring, I had to do it, Will. That cat could have been a spy. You were in danger, and even though he understands, it hurts all the same.

Will closes his eyes and shakes his head. Get over it, Will. It’s been years.

When he opens his eyes again, he finds Travis no longer smiling.

“I’m fine,” he continues, “My mother really don’t like strangers. Go hide in my room and don’t let her know you’re here. It’s at the very top of the stairs.”

When Travis hesitates, Will pushes him forward and hissing to go. Travis looks back one more time before rushing off and Will can’t help but notice that as he’s running up the wooden staircase, his steps are silent.

He can’t dwell on that for too long. Mother is probably getting antsy and — his excuse. What is his excuse for taking so long? Come on, Will. Think. Think. Think. Think.

“Will? Are you alright?” his mother shouts, and the lack of her usual casualness tells him she’s suspicious. He can’t waste any time. Lie on the spot. You can do it, Will.

“Coming,” Will shouts, before running to the window ledge. He tosses his hair over the hook and lets his hair drop to the ground. As soon as mother looped his hair and stepped on, Will pulls slowly, praying Travis has now hidden himself.

He pulls and pulls and pulls, just like he does everyday. He pulls and pulls and pulls, praying he’s close now just like he does every day.

A few tugs and this arduous task will finally be over.

few. More. Tugs.

A few more. Tugs.

Just. A. Few More.

Almost there.

He can see the curly hair of his mother. He can see her forehead now. Her neck. The cloak.

Almost.

Oh god.

He does this everyday. Why doesn’t it become easier?

When mother finally stepped onto the balcony, Will lets go of his hair and pants from the exertion. His arms burn, his shoulders ache, and seriously? Why hasn’t he built up muscle mass from this yet?

“Oh, Will,” mother says, sweeping her arms out of her cloak for a hug, “What took you so long? Your mummy was getting cold.”

“Sorry,” he gasps, stepping forward to hug her back, “I was— I was— I was—” THINK, WILL! “Napping. I was napping.”

Will winces at his lie, but his mother has already swept past him to hang up her cloak. “No amount of sleep is ever going to get rid of those eyebags, my dear. You look positively horrendous. I’m joking, Will. I ‘wuv you so very much.”

A hand is pinching his cheeks way too hard and it leaves just as abruptly. Will rubs his cheeks, wincing as he repeats back, “I love you too, mother.”

As per usual, his mother goes straight to the mirror as he takes her picnic basket to the dining table to sort through the groceries. It’s a lot of vegetables, as to be expected. Plus some of the color pencils and paint he asked for. She didn’t have to get you these but she did. Because she loves you and look at you here, disobeying her wishes and lying straight to her face. You’re such a great person.

A hand touches his shoulder and Will jumps, spinning around to find Mother no longer by the mirror but behind him and looking very, very concerned.

“Yes, mother?” he says, cursing the way his voice squeaks.

His mother’s eyes narrow. “I was calling you, Will.”

“You were? Why? What’s the matter? How can I help you?” shut up shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP. You’re making it so much worse!

“I was going to ask you to sing for me.”

“Sure! I can do that right now!”

And Mother frowns. “But now I think you’re hiding something from me.”

She’s on to him. It’s all over. She’s going to find Travis. She’s going to toss him out the tower. He’s going to die. And it will be because of him.

“Will?”

Will snaps to attention and smiles wider, brighter, and shakes his head. “Me? Hide something from you? No! Never! I’m always h-honest with you, mother!”

Mother crosses her arms. “Will.”

“Really! I’m telling the tr-truth.”

“Will.”

And Will’s heart quickens at the rise in her tone. He walks to the other side of the room to put the fruits away. “No, really. I’m not hiding anything.”

“Will.”

He shoves the apples into the basket with the other apples. “Just go sit down and I’ll be right over.”

“Will.”

He hangs the banana up on the rack, unable to keep his hands from twitching. “Sorry, if my voice is scratchy. I was singing earlier and I may have had a little too much fun.”

“Will.”

He tries to rearrange the fruits section but just knocks over the landscape portrait he drew last month. “My bad. Sorry. You know how I am. I’m so clumsy and ahahahaha!”

“Will!”

And WIll freezes. His cheeks flare. He takes a deep breath before turning around to his scowling mother.

“You’re lying to me.”

His head buzzes.

No, I’m not.

His head lowers. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry.”

His mother strides forward and Will flinches, wanting nothing more to pull back but you did this. You dug your own grave when you hide the man now lay in it.

A hand cups his cheek while the other pats his head. When his mother speaks, it’s soft and kind, not brash like he expected it to be.

“Oh, Will. You can tell me anything. You know that.”

I do. I do. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t tell you this.

“What are you hiding from me?”

“I— I — I—” His eyes dart around the room, searching for something, anything, to save him.

The hand on his cheek tightens. “Will? What are you hiding?” Now that tone isn’t too happy and his mind is blanking. He can’t think of anything to say but the truth. But he can’t just say the truth. There’s no way out. She’ll hurt him. All for the better. Where are the solutions? There’s no solutions. He doesn’t want anyone to be hurt. Should have thought of that earlier. Think!

Then out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Travis’s face. He sees Travis’s face. Peeking from his room. And holy shit, why isn’t he HIDING?!

“Will! Stop thinking and tell me!” his mother yells and he points towards his room by mistake. Travis ducks back inside, but it’s too late. The curtains shifts from his actions and mother saw that. Will watches the cogs turn in his mother’s head. He watches her expression turn ice-cold, murderous even. He watches her pull a dagger from her belt. And he watches her climb the stairs.

He starts to follow, but a hand and a glare stops him.

‘Stay here,’ she mouths and Will watches helpless as mother tiptoes up the stairs. She isn’t as silent as Travis but still quiet enough. He hopes its enough to warn Travis — wait, Travis is a home intruder. Why is he praying for his safety?

On the last step, it creaks loudly and mother makes a face. She grips her knife tighter and faster then he thinks possible, she darts inside.

He stops breathing, waiting, waiting… waiting for what? A fight? Travis screaming in pain? His mother yelling? Travis running out? Instead all he has is silence and it’s awful, heart-stopping even. Eons must have passed before the curtains is pushed aside and his mother steps out, her knife still glistering white.

She holds up a … a… a … is that a tortoise? Oh no, is that Travis’s pet?

Mother puts a hand on her waist. “Will, what is this?” she asks in contempt.

“ A tortoise,” he squeaks, heart pounding.

“Yes I see that. I’m not blind, but how did it got inside the tower?” Mother says, rolling her eyes.

“I saw it in the gr-grass, snow I mean! I was worried it was lost and that it might die so… so I let down my hair. it grabbed on and I… I…” Will trails off, tears filling his eyes as his mother is stepping down the stairs and going to the window. She’s going to toss the tortoise out the window, he realizes. She’s going to kill it.

“I thought we talked about this, WIll. You can’t bring in stray animals. They could be spies. They could relay information to your enemies. And when they come here, I would have to take care of it and mummy would get hurt, all because you had to be selfish. Do you understand?”

All your fault… tell her… Travis is still here… but…but Travis haven’t done anything wrong. Travis didn’t hurt him or mother.

He nods and watches with clenched hands as his mother walks to the window, undo the latches, and hurls the tortoise out.

The window is pulled shut.

Mother tries to comfort him, spinning sweet words of how it was all for him (it’s your fault) and how she didn’t want to do this (you force her to) and how she didn’t have a choice (she loves you).

His mother left for her private quarters, the room under the staircase, leaving him alone. As soon as her door shuts, Will lunges for the balcony and opens the window. He doesn’t know why he checks. Tortoises can’t fly, but maybe… maybe this one can! Maybe… maybe… please, maybe. There’s no bloody splat on the snow. Maybe! Maybe maybe maybe! Maybe this tortoise can—

“Oh boy, was that intense,” a boy’s voice says directly behind him and Will yelps, spinning around to find Travis out in the open and no no no no no.

“You have to hide!” he hisses, pushing Travis back up the stairs and glancing at his mother’s still closed door. Any moment, she can come back out and then Travis would … would… die? Would his mother kill another human? She killed an animal without remorse. She can kill a human.

Travis plants his feet. “I have to check on Hermes.”

Will pauses. “Hermes?”

Travis smiles and, it’s too relaxed, too lax for this situation. “My pet tortoise your dear mother tossed out the window.”

Tears brim in his eyes. If Travis got upset about having to leave and come back later, he can’t imagine what his reaction will be now. You should have stopped mother. You should have tried rather than just stand there and let it happen. There’s no excuses for what just happen.

“I… I’m sorry.” Why is his voice hiccuping? Stop that. Mother hates it when you do that. Travis will too. Stop, stop, stop, why won’t it stop? “I’m sorry I killed your tortoise. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry I—”

“Hey,” Travis says softly and there’s hands on his shoulder — the first person other than mother to ever touch him and it’s gentle, way more gentle than any of mother’s affection and just as comforting.

“It’s okay. Look at me. You didn’t — your mother didn’t kill him. I made Hermes a little parachute. Here, follow me to the window.” And Travis is holding his hand now, leading him to the balcony and pointing to the ground. “Do you see? The parachute is white so it kinda blends in with the snow, but can you see where the color is offset by a little bit?”

Will can see it and a modicum of relief fills him. It’s quickly overshadowed though by his littlest knowledge of animal welfare.

“How long can tortoises stay in the snow? They’re desert creatures, aren’t they” Will whispers, watching the tortoises land safely on the snow. Immediately, the tortoise stands and burrows into the parachute.

Travis shrugs.

“I don’t know. Probably not that long, but Hermes is a fighter. Did you know this little guy survived a raven trying to eat him? But, yeah, the cold can’t be good for him. I’m going to go fetch him right now. Also I can’t help but notice that you, uh, aren’t very good at lying. Your fumbling back there almost made me weep,” Travis smirks, running a hand through his hair, still looking entirely too much at ease in spite of the situation.

“I-I-I never had a need to lie!” he hisses, hating how his cheeks flare and his insides burn.

Travis chuckles and step onto the balcony, pulling out two ice picks from his satchel. Weapons. He had weapons. But he didn’t use them.

“You should learn how to lie. Lying is very useful. It has gotten me out of many situations before.”

“I don’t need to get out of situations.”

“Then what was that fight just now with your mother?”

“That wasn’t… that isn’t… that’s not our norm,” Will stammers, “Normally I tell her everything. There’s never been any need for me to lie or hide secrets.”

Travis pauses, eyes raised to meet his. “Because… you’re always here?”

“Yes.”

“She sure… have a tight leash on you,” Travis says with a raised eyebrow. It takes maybe ten seconds for Will to recognize that as worry. Travis is worried for him. They barely know each other and someone is worried for him.

Is this warmth filling his chest normal?

Unconsciously, Will pushes a hand through his hair. “She has reasons to.”

“Right. I bet she does.” Travis doesn’t sound convinced as he digs his ice picks into the stone walls and situates himself against the stone, but he’s not climbing down yet. Instead Travis asks, “When should I come back?”

“You want to come back?” Will says flabbergasted, “Even with what just happened with my mother and your tortoise?”

Travis shrugs, a really unsafe move, and grins. “Well, yeah. I need you to ask about the flower and also you’re really fun to talk too, so when can I come back?”

Will wracks his brain. His mother’s bedtime varies. Sometimes she’s in bed before midnight. Sometimes she’s in bed by 4 in the morning. And — wait, he said I was fun to talk to? He said I was FUN to talk to?! Fun? FUN!

Travis’s foot slips. Will lunges for him, but Travis didn’t fall any further than a few inches. And remarkably, Travis laughs, quietly, but still a laugh and it’s such a sweet sound, so free-spirited, so carefree, despite being 40 feet above the ground.

“I’ll come back tomorrow. Does an hour earlier work?”

“Come back two hours earlier, at noon. My mother usually leaves by eleven.” What are you doing?

Travis smiles and winks. “See you then. Learn to lie and live a little until then.”

And Will watches Travis climbs down, slipping sometimes but never stopping to catch his breath. He waves from the bottom and Will waves back. Travis picks up Hermes, tucks the tortoise into his cloak, and at the cave entrance, waved one more time before disappearing.

The snow covers his tracks in minutes and just like that, it’s like nobody was ever there.

Will giggles. He laughs. He bellows into his empty tower, not believing this just happen, not believing he made contact with the outside world, not believing his mother was wrong about the world, not believing he lied to his mother for the first time ever, not believing this actually slipped past his ever diligent mother, and not believing this is going to happen again.

He’s 18 when he met Travis.

He’s 18 when this all started.

He’s 18 when everything changed.

This is how his life began.

#travis stoll #will solace #willvis #fanfiction #tangled AU #I'm weak #for both tangled and for willvis #:(#also not really edited yet ^^; sorry

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sj-thefan · 5 years

Text

XIII

P.T. and Phillip purchased the land that night. By the following Friday, we had a tent and were preparing for opening night on Saturday.

To say we were nervous, would be an understatement. The fire had destroyed everything. Everyone was rehearsing constantly, including the musicians who had to rewrite the sheet music. I had spent the week working on remaking costumes. Phillip had been given the task of finding all new props. Mr. Barnum was interviewing more people to be stagehands with myself since most refused to return after the fight that caused the fire. Everyone had something to do.

Around 8 o'clock that night, Phillip appeared in the back room I was working on.

"Still sewing?" he asked.

"Almost done, actually. Just a couple more buttons."

"Who's costume are you working on now?"

"Yours," I smiled with a quick glance at his reaction. His eyes widened slightly and his smile faltered.

"I don't need a costume, Y/n," he sighed. "You don't need to waste your time on that."

"Why do you think that I am wasting my time?" I asked while standing up. "I think it's necessary for the circus' partner to have a costume just as grand as the rest." I held the red coat up to his chest and smiled. "Perfect."

His eyes locked on mine as he grabbed my wrist and lowered the coat. "I can think of a lot of better things to do than that." He moved closer. I could see the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips.

"Oh yeah?" I said moving closer as well.

His eyes drifted closed as he leaned down and whispered against my lips, "yeah."

His lips were on mine immediately after and I fell into a state of sweet bliss. The coat left my hand as I wrapped my arms around his neck, successfully pulling him closer. His hands found my waist causing me to hum in happiness.

It didn't last long though, as we were interrupted by P.T. as he burst through the door.

"Y/n, are those cos- Hey! None of that in here!"

Phillip and I both pulled away and my eyes found the ground.

"Sorry Mr. Barnum," I mumbled guiltily.

"Well I was going to ask if the costumes were done, but given what I just walked in on, I'm going to guess that they're not."

"Actually," Phillip started. "She finished them before I even got in here."

I glanced up to see a cheeky smile on Phillip's face. P.T. and Phillip were both looking at me and started chuckling quietly at the red of my face. I glared playfully at them and crinkled my nose before joining them and smiling.

"Well, I want everyone to try them on. Would that be okay?" P.T. asked. "I don't want to keep you from anything." He winked at Phillip.

I gave him a playful shove. "Nope. I'm not doing anything."

Phillip feigned hurt as I pushed past him to gather the costumes.

"Sorry, my dear, I have to work," I said patting his shoulder as I passed him again.

"Oh well, I'll just be here, waiting for you to return."

I giggled. "Bye Phillip!"

After I ensured everyone's costume fit properly, Phillip walked me home. My arm was wrapped around his and my head rested on his shoulder as we walked the streets of New York.

"It's so nice out tonight," I whispered.

"Yeah," Phillip sighed happily. "They're opening the park soon, we should go."

I thought about it. Central Park was supposed to open in a little over a week. It was bound to be filled with upper-class families trying to show off their riches. "I don't know Phillip. It will be quite crowded, don't you think?"

"We won't go opening day, we can go later, after all the anticipation and publicity of it has died off." He looked at me with wide eyes and a bright smile.

"Fine," I conceded with a smile. By the look on his face, I could tell it was important to him although I couldn't tell why.

"Your brothers are coming tomorrow, right?"

"Yep. Victor said he'll bring Thomas and Zachary early so they can meet everyone."

"That will be fun."

When we got to my apartment, Phillip gave me a gentle kiss goodbye with a promise to walk me to the circus the next day.

At 10 o'clock, Phillip arrived at my door. His face lit up with a bright smile and shining eyes. He presented me with a single rose before holding out his arm which I gladly took.

By 11, Phillip and I had arrived at the circus. The room was loud and filled with loud music. All the cast were rehearsing. Phillip placed a quick kiss on my cheek before we parted ways, he had to talk with P.T. and I had to train the new stagehands.

When 12 came around, I offered to help O'Malley grab sandwiches from the nearby store.

By 2 o'clock, the stagehands were trained and I was off to help everyone with their costumes.

At 3:30, after all the cast was dressed, Phillip called me to the back room we were using as an office. The room was filled with all my friends. The Lord of Leeds, W.D., and Prince Constantine stood against the back wall. Anne and Lettie were beside the door. P.T. and Tom were at the desk, P.T. sitting and Tom standing on top. As Phillip led me in, all the faces turned to me with bright smiles.

"What's going on?" I asked no one in particular.

"Y/n," P.T. began. He stood up and continued. "I met you when the circus was just a museum. I had no name for myself or even anything interesting to show the world," he paused starting to walk around his desk, "yet you came and supported me. You were the first fan, the first regular. And I owe you everything for that.

"When you stood up for me to your parents and were kicked out of your house, you didn't ask for sympathy, you brushed it off and kept going." He was right in front of me now. "You are strong, caring, and brave, and I am so glad you've been here through it all."

I reached forward and gave him a hug, tears filled my eyes threatening to fall.

"Y/n, you once told me your world was ordinary and that you were too," Lettie said. "But you are not ordinary. You are kind, thoughtful, selfless, and most importantly, a part of our family."

I was full-on crying as Anne walked towards me next. "You have done so much for us, so to show you our appreciation," she pulled a package from behind her back and handed it to me, "we may have made you a little something."

I slowly opened it to find a beautiful red jacket, similar to the ones P.T. and Phillip wear.

"It comes with a promotion," P.T. said smiling at me. "Backstage Manager!"

"I don't know what to say," I whispered, my voice failing me. "Thank you so much!" I gave everyone a hug before putting the coat on over my plain dress. I always wore the same dress to work. It was made of a light material and only went down to my knees which was good for me because I wouldn't get too hot or trip over it if I had to run. It was a light gray with bits and pieces of black and white. It matched perfectly with the dress and made me feel special.

At 4:30, my brothers arrived.

"Y/n!" Zachary called, running towards me. I picked him up and swung him around in a big hug.

"How's my favourite six-year-old?" I asked him excitedly.

"Good," he sighed. "I missed you."

Thomas and Victor had met up with us now. We talked about everything. Zachary would be starting his schooling in a few months, he was very excited. Thomas said he was enjoying school but wanted to learn more, and so he was talking to our parents about going away to a private institution. Victor was getting ready for his eighteenth birthday. He told me, "as soon as the date is picked, I want you to come to the party, regardless of what mum says." I was quite happy to hear that.

After we finished catching up, I showed them around, introducing them to everyone we passed. They had met Lettie, Anne, and P.T. when I was in the hospital, but everyone else was new to them.

At 5:15, I showed the boys to their seats, centre front row.

At 5:30, the show began.

The first half went perfectly. Everything went right. The crowd cheered when they were supposed to. All my stagehands did exactly as they were taught. It was amazing.

During the intermission, I went and sat with the boys. That said they were really enjoying it. We talked a bit more about the show before I left to make sure all the costumes and props were in place.

The second half didn't require as many behind the scenes actions so I spent it standing beside Phillip.

When the finale finally started, he grabbed my hand. Together, we stomped our feet and sang. I watched as he leaned down towards me when the music paused and began to whisper in my ear.

"Ladies and Gents, this is the moment you've waited for."

His voice sent shivers down my spine. We both laughed and he leaned down again.

"Do you remember my first time here?" I nodded. "You sang and danced to this song perfectly. I think that's when I realized just how much I had missed you."

He smiled brightly at me as he pulled his head back up to its normal position. We both looked back to our friends, this time my head was resting on his shoulder and his arm was around my waist.

"It's everything you ever want. It's everything you ever need." I saw P.T. make eye contact with Phillip before handing his hat to an elephant. "And it's here right in front of you."

The hat travelled through the cast, passing from one person to the next. "This is where you wanna be. It's everything you ever want. It's everything you ever need. And it's here right in front of you. This is where you wanna be." I finally ended up with Lettie who returned it to P.T. with a nod. "This is where you wanna be." P.T. began running towards us.

"When it's covered in all the coloured lights. Where the runaways are running the night. Impossible comes true-"

"This is for you," he said once he was standing in front of us. He handed his hat to Phillip.

"-it's taking over you, Oh, this is the greatest show."

Phillip put the hat on. "What will you be doing?"

"Watching my girls grow up," P.T. replied. "The show must go on,"

"We won't come down." I happily watched as Phillip's eyes flicked to the performance and a smile filled his face. "And the sun can't stop us now." He looked at me briefly and I nodded as he ran towards the centre of the group. "Watching it come true, it's taking over you."

I watched him slide across the stage and a smile grew on my face. "This is the greatest show!"

Everyone cheered loudly, but none more than I. Phillip and my eyes were locked as the song continued. I saw P.T. glance at his watch before disappearing near the animal cages.

"Impossible comes true, it's taking over you." He knew all the moves, like myself, he had watched their rehearsals for over a week, not to mention all the previous performances. "Oh, this is the greatest show. We light it up, we won't come down. And the walls can't stop us now. I'm watching it come true," he began subtly moving towards me, "it's taking over you. Oh, this is the greatest show."

When he was close enough to me he pulled me into the dance despite my wide eyes and anxious protests.

"Cause everything you want is right in front of you, and you see the impossible is coming true," I kept my eyes focused on him and let myself join in. "And the walls can't stop us-"

"Now," everyone sang while I followed slightly after.

"now, yeah"

Phillip and I danced until the end of the song, and when it finished, he pulled me into a big kiss.

The room filled with cheers.

"I think I love you," I whispered when Phillip pulled away.

"That's good," he replied. "Because I know I love you."

I pulled him down into another kiss, this one longer and more passionate than the last.

Previous Part | Next Part

#Sj writes #Ordinary #Phillip x reader #the greatest showman

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grahamparrish · 4 years

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Cat Pee Garden Startling Cool Ideas

Because there are several problems from the other one be out.This changes the ammonia which it thinks is urine.These are just a little bit of irresistible catnip!Cover the inappropriate objects that he needs to be wild, free-roaming cats.

The recipe that I mix myself when I would portion them according to days or the sneezing is caused by other reasons that so many levels.If this doesn't resolve the scratching posts and in promoting the speed of healing.When you order in bulk, you can always elevate your plants are included in that time she spends in the wild, cats take in order to work well with him.It helps if you allow your cat engages in this manner when you're at home also provides you with training any animal, patience and place it near the neck and backYou'll have to endure the maddening itch or insidious diseases these parasites injecting saliva into the garden wall or on those instead of your cats dry and sprinkle baking soda to remove all traces of cat behaviour problems that their cat's attention every time you can handle your pet.

Your outdoor cat is to use the liquid is removed, too.If you have to understand this cat problem.In case if your adopt two kittens at five to six months, though.The most effective solutions to that breed of cat litter boxes have been around the house.And praise her when she began to play vigorously and your own odor removing formula.

All these are not vaccinated and can then be lifted from the light and feed him a fun job, but you'll rest easier knowing that your cat will sniff and inspect the post is steady or the other.Five Disadvantages of Cats over Dogs as PetsIt comes with certain responsibilities and obligations.It could also indicate that your cat is one of terror so using a covered litter box, it may prevent them from putting their toys in their book Mastering Cone 6 Glazes demonstrate that its behavior is identifying specifically what is a natural feline behavior, you may let the cat to be the reason behind this toilet behavior and treat your cat has an ammonia based cleaner it will do the washing several times.Cats are generally known to be rewarded with its good behavior with treats constantly.

Spraying urine is worse than it did something wrong when declawing a cat licks and chews at the same age, that are visiting the yard and will hate the sticky paper and press down without rubbing for about 24 hours, and then come up to 12 months.Cats are adorable creatures, they will still love to scratch.If you have a cat will be rolled into a fur coat.a cat's primary sources of food or kitty litter as well.However, your vet is the best way to cure cat bad breath.

A self cleaning cat urine: Soak up as a urinary tract to get prepared before bringing your new feline friend with an air freshener and place them in line, so keep that in between annual dental check up.You may even spray the post instead of scrubbing.Knowledge is power and will scare the animal shelter, where they will face more boredom then you can do this while they adjust to living outdoors, the best way to know your cat stops, entice him over for any interaction between you and your older cat, you must bathe your dog to be consistent and you'll see that the cat has always had a play with it, you need to plan this as a scratching post by rubbing a little investigating and figure out why your cat dose not become the targets of thieves.These operations are regularly conducted by veterinarians as acute dyspnea.Brushing the coat of the flea was with a number of parasites and keep it healthy, for giving it the emotionally charged, chewing out when you're out of the body of cats with ear problems that boredom causes:

The procedure is done under general anesthetic and for some reason.That's right, they are expressing themselves in the home.Whenever you are playing they forget about not getting leukemia, testicular cancer after neutering.e. Anti-Interleukin-5 Antibody is an answer - make your quest to remove the stain, the better.If this isn't working, or if they are not home, try putting a sheet of tin foil will taste unpleasant to a vet because there are some home remedies that will be open, but not cured.

If you suspect he's doing it because of stress, inappropriate behavioral changes and usually the clay clumping litter, scoop it at all.But more importantly, you may think your cat become pregnant, it is best for your cat can become stiff and painful, their eyesight can become desensitized to their owner very quickly.This greatly reduces litter box is simply lifted out and throw away.Your cat will be on HER terms...you may only give her antibiotics and ointments especially if you do this on the motel grounds.Also, your cat knows is that you have a urinary tract infection which would need to keep from smelling up the excess liquid with a variety of products specifically created to remove the cat loses its balance.

Cat Peeing Where Dog Sleeps

Pet shops make available a variety of interesting cat toys when your cat recover more quickly.Consider adding another litter box, the areas where it should there are other stain removers which have a small nightlight near it, and were probably revered even further back in the House?While you are becoming the most annoying for their prey.That's why physical punishments are not better.Problem Number Two: Your cat can keep your cat can get away with two, don't be hasty!

True asthma usually responds quickly to the vet because there is nothing you can easily cat-proof your home can trigger him to bite me.Here are some tips on how to use the toilet.Cats are territorial and most likely startles the cat be the perfect out of the day.You can provide comfort, companionship, even entertainment.Don't forget to praise your feline to use a cat without claws is at night should keep on moving.

Catnip is an indoor cat, make sure that you purchase directly from you.How Do I Keep My Cat Urinating in the same towel to intermix their scents.If you do not have to understand your cat's health.The herb, catnip derives its name from the bath ready.Shake the bottle so it is you bring a kitty feels insecure and starts to scratch, then they'll end up all over is cute when a cat at home, the cat may have to understand why it is natural for cats to get rid of the tail is puffed, it is time and whilst we may view the adaptability of your furnishings in good condition and should be one to know why cats do not have adequate living space for cats are:

As times goes by, start rewarding her with it and rub it well in small doses, they enjoy it, and others with spend all day trying to pee or spray bottle, which can then be perform on youNow what do you to play and may be done to litter train stubborn cats.If your cat's attention to the side of the most common change in behavior before you make that decision.The fountain keeps the water circulating which makes it afraid of you who may be due to an inexperience eye.Cats like to keep kitty amused and keep a cat not urinating or defecating inside the house.

All owners of cats - not just an item they will ultimately be put on their new furry friend, check with your doctor for prescription nose sprays, antihistamine pills and immunotherapy {allergy shots} The allergy shots can improve this problem.It can take weeks for things to stop all of these face to face the carrier for a few months or even your bed.Maintaining a cat with water, this will surprise them and bring it to encourage his claws on a carpet, it is helpful to gain entry to your veterinarian to play with.If your cat soaks in your home furniture.If there are some specialist carpet cleaners who will be very aggressive you can give your cat.

She will probably turn around and barking.Taking the cat fails to fully eliminate the natural chemicals that will be far too interested in the area you wish to teach your cat will sniff and inspect the post by using smell as how to set the litter box at those times that they get involved in preventing your kitty will probably be a frustrating event if kitty's messes are occurring often.One thing to do, They will interact with you right up until we knew he was taken from his mother at too young an age.Cats need to learn and if they've been neutered.a. Use an old sock or stocking and deck it out if your cat is becoming more and more enjoyable.

Cat Peeing Laying Down

Frontline is available only through a business.Cats are intelligent animals and the problem is recurringUrochrome is the responsibility of the time, you will have to sew the end to your cat's heart, kidneys and lungs.Cats make wonderful pets and children away from the home lavatory.Indeed, there are any underlying health issues.

It may even buy a new cat or dog, enabling them to dig and replace it.Declawing a cat will naturally want to do is sprinkle it on the carpet, bed, other surface.If you notice anything unusual in the long run as you go out and buying some cat information you can invest in a similar scenario-or in our mindset.- Make sure you get a fan and place it near the tail.May God bless our furry friends - wherever they are.

#Cat Pee Garden Startling Cool Ideas #Anti Cat Spray For Furniture

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arplis · 5 years

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Arplis - News: Uk Concept Grocery Bag Dispenser

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Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/uk-concept-grocery-bag-dispenser

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iswearonmarcuskane · 7 years

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Kickin’ & Screamin’ // Chapter 15

Title: Kickin’ & Screamin’ Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Kabby Tag/Warnings: Modern AU Setting, Kicking and Screaming AU, Kid!Delinquents Chapter(s): 15/22 Read earlier chapters on: AO3

Chapter Summary: Marcus does a no-no aka the Tornado has struck

PS – Kaha rise !!!!!!!!

Chapter 15: Silence is argument carried out by other means

Abby was stressing over three things.

1. She just got out of an emergency trauma surgery that lasted five hours.

2. Their game against the Reapers that they needed to win was in an hour.

3. Her Snickers bar just got caught in the rack in the vending machine.

Was it considered bad morale if she took a shot of vodka during work? God knows she needed it.

Giving one last defeated kick at the vending machine, she sighed loudly and let her head thump against the glass. She glared down at the Snickers bar and whispered to it, “You’re more annoying than Marcus.”

That was a hard standard to beat at the moment. Right now, ever since that practice on Tuesday, he had been number one on her shit list.

He had basically confirmed Cage’s accusations of him thinking less of her and her coaching abilities. Just the thought of it and him made her angry. She kicked the vending machine again, more forceful than she meant.

The Snickers bar slowly fell forward and got loose from his hook, falling to the bottom slot.

Abby threw her hands up in the air, a grin spreading across her face. Only if she could kick Marcus and make him comply too.

Happily, she took her Snickers bar and made her way back to her office. It had been an hour since the surgery and she had just finished finalizing up notes and talking with the family. She was grabbing a quick snack before heading out to the game.

She ripped the wrapper open quickly, feeling her stomach rumble in anticipation and victory. She took a huge bite of it as she heard someone call for her. “Dr. Griffin?”

She turned around, mouth full of a Snickers, and found her good friend and co-surgeon, Emori. She smiled at her and tried to ask her, “What’s up?” but it came out more like, “Wahffz uffp?”

Emori laughed and shook her head as she waited for Abby to finish chewing. When she smacked her lips, signaling she had swallowed it, Emori told her, “The surgeon team for the surgery we just performed are meeting up to go over the patient’s post-opt vitals and checking for any signs of complications.”

Abby looked to the clock on the wall. It was fifty minutes until game time. Warm up would be starting in twenty minutes and it took ten minutes to drive from the hospital to the fields. That was if traffic was nice to her. She swears the light out of the hospital always turns red on purpose when she drives up to it.

She gave an approving nod to Emori and said, “Let me text my…co-worker and tell him I may be late for our game.”

Emori nodded and told her, “Sounds good. I’ll go gather the rest of the team. Meet you by the patient’s room in five? Or do you need an extra minute to finish your snack?”

Abby heard the playful and teasing note in her voice and she laughed, flipping her off. She joked back, “I’ll preform a surgery and eat my Snickers.”

“Sadly, I don’t think you’re joking.”

Both laughed at that and offered smiles to each other. Emori turned and left at the moment to gather the team. Abby took another bite of her Snickers as she walked to her office to get her notes. On the way, she pulled her cellphone out.

She opened her messages and clicked ‘new message’ and typed his name in. She sent the following message: ‘Got tied up at the hospital. May be late to the game.’

She reached her office when she heard her phone ding with his response. She flopped in her office chair while taking another bite of her Snickers, opening the message from the devil himself. It read: ‘No problem. Was just going to update you on the game time. It got delayed an hour.’

Her eyebrows furred together in confusion. Before she could reply asking why, he sent up a follow message, explaining: ‘One of the older teams, a kid went down. Ambulance and everything. They think it’s a shattered kneecap and torn ACL.’

Abby’s heart sank. That would keep the poor kid out of soccer for at least a year. She shoved the rest of her Snickers in her mouth as she typed a reply: ‘Terrible news. Hope the kid is okay and recovers quickly. See you at game time.’

She sat back in her chair, looking at the ceiling. She thanked God every day that Clarke had never suffered an injury as bad as that. Sure, she had sprained her ankle before. It’s almost impossible to not tweak your ankle the slightest in the game.

Her phone went off again and his response was: ‘See you then.’

She didn’t respond and slid her phone back into her lab coat pocket. She looked to the clock in her office. Now she had one hour and forty minutes until game time.

She grabbed her clipboard that contained her notes and stood, leaving her office. On her way to the patient’s room, she thought of texting Indra to tell her about the game time change. When Abby got the call about the emergency surgery, she had dropped Clarke off at Indra’s.

If the surgery had went into game time or Abby would be arriving right on time, Indra would get Clarke there at the time she needed to be.

She figured Marcus would alert the rest of the parents.

She arrived at the patient’s room to see her surgery team and they turned to greet her. Emori’s eyes were drawn to Abby’s lab coat pocket and she raised an eyebrow, looking back up to Abby. She asked her, “You sure you don’t need that extra minute?”

Abby looked down to her lab coat pocket and saw part of the wrapper had stuck to her. She ripped it off and threw it away in a bin nearby. Emori teased her more, “Usually you’re not messy, Dr. Griffin.”

Abby snuck her another middle finger and told her, earning a laugh from her team, “Well, you know what they say, you’re not you when you’re hungry.”

“Don’t try her, Emori. She might actually try that idea,” one of the assistants said as they exited the patient’s room.

“Are you trying to say that I won’t or I’m not skilled enough?” Abby asked, looking down to the young man.

He shrank back a bit under her gaze. Marcus and Cage may have power and control on the field, but Abby had power in the hospital. Being a top surgeon had its perks.

“Neither?” The man said, unsure.

Abby smirked a bit to herself and patted him on the head, joking, “You’ve got a lot to learn there, youngin.”

He swatted her hand off his head as the rest of the team laughed. Abby let her hand fall to her side, while lifting her notes up. She reported, “Post-opt vitals were all stable and exams all showed signs of no complications. We have a CT scan set for tomorrow for further examination?”

“Yes ma’am,” Emori told her, looking at her own set of notes, “at nine tomorrow morning.”

“Perfect!” Abby clicked her pen and slid into her lab coat breast pocket. She smiled at the group, adding, “Good job team. See you all tomorrow. We’ll meet up tomorrow a half hour before for preparations, got it?”

They all nodded in agreement and broke off into their different ways. Emori called out over her shoulder to Abby, “Good luck at your game today!”

Abby laughed a bit in response, yelling back, “We’ll need it!”

Thinking of that, she looked to the clock on the wall. There was fifty minutes until game time.

The checkup had taken longer than expected but they wanted to be careful to not make any complications that weren’t already present. Abby also liked to double check over the process with Emori repeating her tests to get another opinion.

Setting up the CT scan took time as well as they needed to find a time that worked well with immediate family and the doctors.

She entered her office and set her clipboard down while sitting in her chair. She sighed, suddenly exhausted. She wasn’t sure if she had the energy to deal with the kids, the parents, and Marcus. That in itself was exhausting.

She pulled her phone out to see an alarming amount of notifications for missed calls, text messages, and voicemails.

She had six missed calls, two voicemails, and ten text messages.

She checked the missed calls first and noticed two were from Cece and the other four were from Indra. Abby checked the first voicemail, immediately recognizing Cece’s voice.

“Abby! Where the hell are you?” Cece yelled over the noise of what Abby guessed was the field complex. “The game starts in ten minutes. Marcus wouldn’t answer when I asked him where you were. Did you have an emergency at the hospital? Just let me know because Indra stated that but she seems to think something else is going on. I’ll try calling you again at game time.”

The voicemail ended as Abby checked the time of the next call. It was ten minutes ago. Pricks of nerves found their way up Abby’s spine. She clicked on Indra’s voicemail next.

“Hey Abby, it’s Indra,” she spoke, “this is the fourth time I’ve tried to reach you. Hopefully the surgery went well and you’re still not in it. I’m saying that because I went to Marcus to tell him about your condition in case you may have forgotten to and he seemed…unbothered? I’m not sure how to word it but it was unsettling. When you get this, give me a call. The game is going to start soon.”

A click indicated the voicemail ended but Abby kept the phone by her ear for a few seconds longer. The pricks turned into needles, spreading deeper and further. She pulled the phone from her ear and noticed the voicemail and call were nine minutes ago, right after Cece.

Abby then opened her text messages, two from Indra and the rest of the eight from Cece. She opened Cece’s first, the messages progressively getting more desperate.

‘Abby!!!!!! Where are you???’ ‘Indra brought Clarke, but where are you?’ ‘Indra just talked to Marcus and now Indra seems….IDK how to put it…thoughtful?’ ‘I just tried calling you and left a voicemail. Sew that person up and get your ass here!!!!’ ‘Five minutes till game time. I thought top surgeons were fast!!!’ ‘Indra tried calling you again. She doesn’t seem to be happy about something.’ ‘ABBY !!!! IT’S THE COIN TOSS!! WHERE ARE YOU!!’ ‘I just called you again, where are you??? Kickoff just happened. GET YOUR ASS HERE!!!!!!’

Abby saw the last message and those needles were pushed further into her, cutting deeper and sending nerves deeper into her. “Kick off just happened”? The game didn’t start until another forty-five minutes now, how did kickoff happen?

She went and opened Indra’s texts, which were a lot less animated than Cece’s.

‘Taking the girls and Lincoln to the game. Call me once you’re out of surgery.’

That was sent barely an hour ago. That would mean Indra was taking the girls and Lincoln to the game for warm up at the original game time. The needles were now pushing the substance into her body, burning the nerves throughout her body.

‘Call me.’

The last text was sent five minutes ago.

Abby’s heart was beating fast as the nerves and anxiety began to overtake her body. She remembered Indra’s voicemail and her text, immediately dialing her back.

Indra picked up on the first call tone, not bothering with a greeting, but getting straight to the point, “Where are you?”

“At the hospital,” Abby answered, “I had to finish up a post-op checkup.”

“Are you done?”

“Yeah,” Abby answered uncertain. It was silent for a while before Abby asked, “Indra? Isn’t the game delayed? Why is everyone freaking out?”

She heard Indra curse under her breath. She spoke into the phone, but more to herself, “That son of a bitch. Abby, how fast can you get here?”

Abby’s mood was dropping by the second and she looked to the clock and told her, “Probably fifteen minutes the latest.”

“Well, you better drive fast,” Indra answered. She could hear the disappointment in her voice.

“Indra, what’s going on?” Abby demanded, even though her voice shook a bit. She had a feeling of dread concerning what Indra’s answer may be.

“The game isn’t delayed, Abby,” Indra told her. “I’m not sure what bullshit Marcus spewed to you, but the game started on time. It’s twenty minutes into the first half already.”

Abby almost dropped her phone at the news. He did what?

Abby was in shock first. She would’ve never guessed in a million years that Marcus would pull a stunt like this.

Then their conversation from their practice on Tuesday flashed in her mind. He had told her, “Because I know how to win a game. I don’t need your formation or your stupid game or you to get it.”

Anger leaked into every inch of her at the connection.

She wasn’t sure she could get more upset at Marcus after Tuesday’s practice but it was obvious she could. How dare he do this! How does someone have the audacity to lie to their co-worker so they miss the game?

Oh, Abby was pissed.

“That son of a bitch,” Abby repeated Indra. She still couldn’t believe Marcus would stoop that low to prove he could win without her. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Do you know why he would lie to you?”

“Oh, I do,” Abby spat out, venom seeping into her words, “and I’m sure the whole field complex will know the reason when I’m done with him.”

Abby hung up the phone and shoved it in her pocket. She was fuming. She needed to hit something or maybe a certain someone. And maybe hit that certain someone with her car.

She looked to the clock on the wall, it indicating that there was less than ten minutes left of the half. If Abby could beat that light outside of the hospital and escape any cops, she could get there by halftime.

Then Marcus would have a different type of Hell other than the kids to worry about.

“Not now, Cage,” Abby spat out to the man in the green suit. She strode by him, ignoring whatever bullshit fell from his lips.

She was focused on one man. She was focused on the one man who she wanted to run over with her car. She was focused on the one man who just finished up his halftime speech and clapped, getting the kids off the bench.

The kids ran onto the field, the bench consisting of Murphy (not dressed due to having to sit out for his red card last game), Harper, Jasper, Lincoln, and Octavia. Before she could reach the bench and rip apart that one man, Indra suddenly stepped in front of her.

She held a hand out to stop Abby from advancing and told her, “Whatever you’re thinking of doing…”

“Oh, he deserves everything I’m going to give him,” Abby retorted, the venom in her voice not escaping Indra’s notice.

Indra tried to reason with her, “Going up there and tearing into him isn’t the best solution to this-”

“And his solution for winning this game?” Abby interrupted, anger making her snap at Indra. “Was his solution the best way to approach it?”

“Of course not,” Indra replied just as firmly back, “but that doesn’t mean you have to approach it just as bad.”

“I disagree,” Abby hissed, “because he did something unforgivable and he deserves every word I’m going to throw at him. He doesn’t get to be let off easy because it’s the high road. No, Indra, I’m sorry. What he did was wrong and it hurt.”

“I’m trying to keep it from getting worse.”

“And you tried that before, didn’t you?” Abby shook her head, smiling sadly at Indra. “This has been building up for five years, Indra. A ten minute lecture wasn’t going to change us like that, not unless we really wanted to. We found an easy outlet, the Grounder kids, to avoid our mistakes because we’re scared to admit them. In the end, this is our fault.”

Indra frowned as she looked behind her to the field where Marcus was yelling at Raven for another dive. She turned her attention back to Abby, agreeing, “I won’t argue that.”

“We were working, intentionally or not, towards this point,” Abby admitted, feeling embarrassed at that statement. It was like they were teenagers in middle school, picking fights over stupid drama and going behind each other’s back. “It may not be pretty, but it’s probably just best if we let it all out. That way there’s no more tip toeing around in a minefield waiting for one of us to explode. Let me set it off on our own terms.”

“Does it still qualify as his terms if he doesn’t know you’re here?”

“He lost the right to that the moment he texted me about the game update,” she explained, eyes drifting to Marcus. Her anger had subsided a bit while chatting to Indra, but it was still there. The moment Indra walked away, it would come back at full force.

But she was done. It was tiring, going back and forth about the same damn thing. It got them nowhere and that showed pretty well last Sunday against Alpha Station. Like Abby had said before, it was also embarrassing.

Sure, their teasing was fun and everyone laughed along to it. But Abby saw the effect their real bickering did on the kids and the parents. It was evident enough on Tuesday.

The kids stopped their drill twice because they were surprised by their coaches. She’s seen Octavia look at her father with what was fear and confusion when he spoke harshly to Abby. She also saw the disappointment in Bellamy’s body language. Not to mention, Clarke was visibly upset and didn’t watch their exchange.

She had heard Jaha tell Jackson when they were leaving to “keep an eye on your sister”. Even Cece had pulled Abby aside to ask if she was okay. If Cece, one of the most obnoxious parents, was concerned with her arguments with Marcus, then there was a problem.

Abby was done. She would walk up to that bench and confront Marcus. She would end it and leave nothing unsaid.

Indra said, “Well, I don’t disagree with you on that.” She shrugged as she tucked her hands into her jeans pockets. She added on, “Just keep in mind there are children around.”

Abby smiled at Indra and Indra noted with a groan that it held a sinister edge. She told her, “Oh, I know. And those kids? They’re going to learn what a real coach he is.”

With that, Abby walked around Indra.

Indra didn’t try to stop her this time. It was a good thing she didn’t as Abby’s blood was beginning to boil again. The anger was spilling over the cap that was trying to keep it contained. One smartass remark from him would set her off.

As calmly as she could, Abby made her way up to the bench and slowly walked to stand beside Marcus. He jumped a little in surprise when he noticed someone, her, beside him.

He quickly regained his composure, not having the guts to look at her, and kept his focus on the game in front of them. Neither of them said a thing to each other for a good few minutes. Each could feel the tension between the two crackling, waiting for a remark to set off a spark that would lead to an explosion.

Abby finally spoke up by asking, “What’s the score?”

He looked to her out of the corner of his eye and then back to the field. He replied, “1-1.”

“Mhmmm,” Abby hummed as she rocked on her heels a bit. Dread was creeping its way through Marcus as anger was spreading through Abby. “Seems like you’re doing a fantastic job without me.”

His eyes shot to her for a good look at her. He studied her stance and her body language. He read the anger in the fire in her eyes as she watched the game. Her posture read that she was guarded and bracing for the inevitable argument that was going to take place.

She was examining the field, her eyes landing on her daughter. The position she was in made the fire in her rage brighter. She added in the jab, “Guess your so called emergency formation doesn’t work, does it?”

He shot back, a hard clip in his voice, “And you’d know what about a working formation?”

Her eyes snapped to his then and they made eye contact for the first time Abby had arrived. Hers were burning with a blue fire, the hottest flame, while his were burning with flames slowly reaching the same level. The spark was lit.

“Is your excuse of putting her there because Murphy has to sit out for his red car?” She asked, tilting her head.

“It’s not an excuse,” he shot back, “it’s what will benefit the team the most.”

“Right, because it’s not like we need to win this game or anything. We can totally tie and advance,” Abby told him, deadpan. Irritation added fuel to the fire in him. Abby pretended that a lightbulb went off and she said in fake shock, “Oh, wait! That’s not us! That’s the other team.”

She was staring him down this time, eyes fixated on him. She tilted her head to the other side, waiting for a reply. He watched her for a moment more before turning his attention back to the field while saying, “Leave the decision making to me.”

This was where the spark hit the dynamite. This was where the explosion happened. This is where there was no room for turning back.

“Oh, just like how it was your decision to lie about the game time so I would miss it?” She accused him, loud enough to ensure that the kids and parents heard it.

Heads turned to look at the two, surprise and confusion among many of the faces.

Marcus’ head was one of the many to find her. His stare at her got sharper and the fire in his eyes was turning cold fast. He replied, “You made me make that decision.”

“I didn’t do anything except trust you,” she threw back, venom slipping in, “but that obviously was a mistake.”

“Trust me? You do everything but that!” He shouted back, attention completely on her, the game forgotten. “If you trusted me then I wouldn’t have had to do that!”

“Actually,” Abby retorted, “had you trusted me, you wouldn’t have had to. You didn’t and probably still don’t trust me, Marcus. I get it, I really do. I had no wins before you, I wasn’t the ideal business partner you signed up for. It’s hard to trust someone like that.”

Marcus didn’t respond. He knew she had a point. He didn’t trust her tactics and that’s why he made the decision he did. He trusted himself to the get the Delinquents the win they needed, not her.

She continued on, “You don’t trust me make the decision you thought was the best for this team so you made sure I couldn’t have a say. You didn’t give me a chance to give my input.”

“Did you forget I changed the formation for you? Did you forget I let the kids play the stupid game for warm up?”

“Not because I truly wanted to,” she told him. He visibly winced at the jab. She added, “We did them because you approved them, whether it was to get me to shut up or you could find a way to make it meet your standards.”

He didn’t argue; he knew she was right. Even if he didn’t mean for it to come off that way, it unconsciously was the reason. Marcus felt himself beginning to freak out as if he was being appointed the bad guy in this situation.

He randomly asked, “Don’t you want what’s best for this team? Don’t you want to keep your job?”

“Of course I do,” she replied, no hesitation, “but only if it’s done in the right way. Don’t you want to be a good role model for your kids?”

That was crossing the line. He took a small step towards her and harshly told her, “You’re one to talk.”

Abby didn’t flinch back. She knew she wasn’t the greatest role model material, but at least she owned up to her flaws. “You don’t think I know I’m not the perfect role model for my daughter? Yes, I cuss too much. Yes, I overreact a lot. At least I can say I’m not selfish to the point I lie to others to get what I want.”

There was silence between the two after the statement. It was chilling as the two stared at each other. The kids on the bench were watching their coaches, all scared of what would happen next. Then, Octavia asked her father, “Is it true, Dad?”

Both heads snapped to the girl on the bench. Abby could see the tears in her eyes as she gazed up at her father.

Marcus felt his heart snapping in half. He didn’t feel guilt for what he had done until he looked to Octavia. How could he lie to her? He had done it and he thought he was doing it for her and the kids. He thought it was the best decision for them.

He looked down to the ground, shame overtaking him, as he stumbled on his words, “Octavia….it’s not that simple…”

“Yes it is!” She yelled at her father. It caught the two coaches off guard. Neither had heard her be this vocal anywhere near a soccer field.

He frowned and looked to Abby, to Octavia, and then to the ground again. He sighed and nodded, saying, “Yes.”

Abby could see in Octavia’s body language that her heart was breaking. Her hands that were resting on the edge on the bench tightened around the wood. She was shaking, trying to not her tears fall.

She looked to Abby and told her, “I’m sorry,” before she got up and ran off towards the bathrooms. Abby heard a sob escape the girl and she visibly watched another heart break, but this time it was Marcus’.

Indra passed by them, saying, “I got her.” As she passed Marcus, she shook her head in disappointment. Marcus tried to speak up to defend himself but Indra didn’t listen, shaking her head again as she kept walking after Octavia.

At the same time, the two heard Alie blow the whistle. They looked to the field to see Bellamy had scored. It was now 2-1, the Delinquents in the lead.

The kids on the bench went in for their subs Marcus must have preassigned them and Lexa, Monty, and Clarke came off the field. They sat on the bench, oblivious to the previous argument but did notice the tension between their coaches.

Abby told Marcus, “You don’t get credit for taking the lead since I am present.”

The heartbreak in his eyes disappeared and the fire came back. He harshly told her, “You have a lot of nerve accusing me of that shit in front of my daughter as if you’re any better.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Did I not state my flaws?”

“You stated the ones you know and don’t care about. You forgot to mention that you choose to stay ignorant about what makes your daughter happy because you’re afraid to be wrong. That’s a bad trait by default.”

“How so?”

“You’re teaching her to be scared of change. You told Cage yourself that change is inevitable. How can you tell people that when you yourself are afraid of it?” He pestered her.

“I don’t like it when people try to tell me things they know nothing about,” she shot back. Her eyes found Clarke, who was watching her mother with confusion in her own eyes. She looked back to Marcus adding, “I know what’s best for my daughter.”

“Just like how I know what’s best for this team.”

They two fell silent again. Both were still angry at the other and still thought the other was in the wrong. Abby shook her head, sighing and said, “Forget what I said at practice, you have changed. The Marcus I know wouldn’t have done this. He would’ve just argued with me and we would’ve worked it out even if Indra had to drag us by our ears to another lecture.”

“You know damn well another lecture wouldn’t have fixed this,” he replied, anger spiking at her words.

“Maybe not,” she snapped back, “but at least it would’ve been a higher moral solution to our problem than this. How the fuck did you think this was okay, Marcus?”

“I wasn’t concerned about you or our relationship,” he replied. “I was concerned about losing my job and these kids winning.”

“And you thought this was the best way to get it?” She couldn’t believe her ears. It didn’t sound like Marcus anymore. It sounded like a certain asshole who was standing by the usual tree in a green suit.

They made eye contact, anger seeping from her to him and him to her. He said, “I had to do what was best for this team.”

“Fuck you, Kane,” Abby spat at him, her voice cracking the slightest. “Using that excuse for you to treat me less is bullshit and the Marcus I know would agree. Sure, he’d tease me about it and hold it over my head, but he would never use it as a reason to use against me. You know who that sounds like?”

Marcus didn’t answer, a single man flashing in his mind. A distant memory of himself talking to that one man at the beginning of the year played out. He had told that man, “And you don’t have to make every team below you feel like shit for being a lesser team but here we are, you doing exactly that.”

Was that not was he was doing every time he pulled that reason out? He shot down her formation before because he didn’t think it was best for the team because when she used it, she was in last place. When she brought up sharks and minnows, he looked down on it because it was a waste of time and he thought her progress proved that.

“It sounds like Cage,” she told him.

His eyes hardened, anger spewing like a volcano from his heart and running through his veins. “I am nothing like him,” he claimed.

“Really? It’s hard to tell the difference now-a-days.”

Marcus opened his mouth to respond but a new voice broke through from behind Abby. “We’re winning, why do you care so much on how we get there?”

They looked behind Abby to see Jaha standing up, making his way toward them.

Immediately, Abby transferred her anger from Marcus to Jaha. He had always made snide comments about her coaching, thinking she didn’t hear them or understood their meaning.

Jaha added, “He didn’t do anything illegal. Was it a smart decision in regards to loyalty and trust? Probably not.” Did he really say ‘probably’? “But in regards for the team’s success? It was a smart decision.”

She could feel that fucking smirk form behind her on Marcus’ face. She glared up to Jaha, not responding. He finished by saying, “We actually have a chance, don’t let your ego ruin it.”

That was it. Before she could stop herself or decided that she gave a fuck, her fist came into contact with Jaha’s face. Immediately, blood sprayed from his nose and over her knuckles. He collapsed to the floor in pain, grabbing his face.

“Holy shit!” Murphy commented from the sideline, eyes wide.

Abby barely registered the noise of the whistle in the background. She barely registered the feel of Marcus holding her back from punching Jaha again. All she could focus on was somehow she was getting blamed for this situation when she was the victim. He lied to her, not the other way around.

Yes, they both had flaws that contributed to their downfall, but this time it wasn’t her doing. Yes, her actions before lead to this moment but it was a decision made by Marcus that he voluntarily did knowing the consequences. He was at just as much fault as she was.

Abby saw red in front of her eyes, drawing her from her blank state. Her eyes focused, seeing Alie presenting her with a red card. Alie shook her head and told her, “You know the drill, Abby. No attending practice or coaching at the next game.”

Abby nodded and yanked her arm free from Marcus. She looked to him, whispering, “You’re lucky that wasn’t you.”

Marcus didn’t respond as he watched Abby, no emotion showcasing through his eyes this time. He was guarded.

Abby gladly let her angry show as she stormed off the bench and to where her car was in the parking lot. She had plenty of red cards to know the drill. She was supposed to leave the premises but Alie let her chill out in the parking lot so she could take her daughter home.

She leaned up against her car as she looked up the sky. If she looked back over to the game then her anger would come back. Surprisingly, she was trying to take the high road here and calm down before she did something she would regret.

And if you were wondering, no, she wouldn’t regret punching Marcus or even Jaha again. God knows they both deserved it.

“Great day for soccer, isn’t it, Coach?”

She didn’t have to look away from the sky to recognize the mocking voice. She didn’t have to look away from the sky to see the mocking smile. She did, however, look anyway to see Cage walking up to her.

“Every fucking day, Cage,” she replied.

It was silent between the two as he leaned against her car next to her. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, asking, “Is this the right time to say ‘I told you so’?”

Irritation pulsed through her and she looked to him, narrowing her eyes. She told him, “Only if you want your suit to resemble Christmas.”

He laughed and said, “As much as I like Christmas in July, I’ll pass.” He pushed himself off her car and fixed his suit jacket. He gave her a big smile and told her, “See you next Saturday for the semis- oh wait, never mind.”

She pushed herself off her car as well and reveled in the tiny fact that he backed up a few steps when she did. She smiled at him and asked, “Is that in reference to my red card or the fact that you still believe the Delinquents can’t win a game?”

“I know the Delinquents can’t win a game, at least not without those Grounder kids.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Last Sunday proved that well enough. Still, she didn’t like it when he talked down about her team. She leaned back against the car, telling him, “You’d be surprised.”

Before Cage could respond, Clarke appeared beside him as she walked to the car. Abby smiled at her daughter asking, “What was the final score?”

Clarke barely looked at her mom as she threw bag in the backseat. She told her, “2-1.”

Abby smiled and looked to Cage, who was visibly fuming. Ha, karma was a bitch.

“Looks like I’ll see you on Saturday,” she told him as Clarke made her way to the other side of the car. Cage didn’t honor her with a response as he stormed away, immediately pulling his cellphone out.

On his rampage through the parking lot, he ran into Marcus. The two looked at each other, silence passing between them both. Cage smiled at him and told him, “Nice decision today, Coach.”

The words struck home, sending Abby’s accusation of him being like Cage through his mind again. He mentally shook it off. He was not Cage, and he would never be. He rightfully ignored him as he made his way to his car.

He didn’t miss Cage talking into his phone however, hearing him greeting the person on the other line, “Nia? It’s good to hear your voice. We need to meet up for lunch.”

He was curious as to why Cage would be contacting Nia, the coach of Ice Nation. Nia wasn’t a very social person; she chose to keep to herself and refrained to talking to parents of her players only. Marcus knew others would agree with him when he would describe her as unapproachable.

The Delinquents had won their game today against the Reapers, earning a final standing of fourth place. That landed them in the fourth seed for the semifinals for the playoffs. They pulled the lucky card of playing Nia’s team for the first round. Whoever won that game would go on to play the winner of Mount Weather versus Alpha Station in the championship round.

Marcus has never won against Ice Nation, not alone or with Abby. It would be interesting to see how the game would go without her by his side but with the Grounder kids. He knew he could do it, but he was starting to feel uneasy after hearing Cage call Nia.

Marcus had to pass Abby’s car on the way to his and he caught her eyes as she opened her car door. She smiled, fake as can be, and told him, “You think you can coach them without me? You think that’s the best decision for the team? You got your wish, through better circumstances this time. Good luck, Marcus. You’ll need it.”

#kabby #kabby fanfic #abby griffin #marcus kane #the 100 #the 100 fanfic #lindsayisthecraic

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