#is also kind of that he wants young snow and lucy to be dead? for them never to have happened etc...

[its-tea-time-darling]

➸ The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes (2023) vs. The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013)

Look at this. They're holding hands. I want them dead.

#baggage much mr. snow? #the hunger games #thg #thgedit #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #corionalus snow #president snow #lucy gray baird #if you saw me post this 5 seconds ago and delete and reformat it again no you didnt #snow knows a thing or two about how pressure form the capitol can forge unlikely alliances... motivate people to rebel against the system.. #also #isn't it kind of neat that the 'i want them dead' #is also kind of that he wants young snow and lucy to be dead? for them never to have happened etc... #lucky flickerman #the hunger games: the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games: catching fire #tbosasedit #the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games: the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy x snow #snow x lucy #snowbaird #coryo snow #my gifs #mine #gifhungergames

[kazz-brekker]

ballad of songbirds and snakes movie thoughts below the cut:

if you had told my past self that in 2023 there would be a hunger games prequel that opens with giving hot young president snow a shirtless scene i would have been like "you're joking" and yet here we are

i think not having snow's inner narration like we did in the book made him seem not quite as totally calculating and selfish since we're seeing him from the outside rather than hearing his thoughts

i.e. snow in the movie disdains sejanus at the beginning of the movie yet seems to have a closer relationship by the end, but in the book we know snow actually never cared for senjanus as much as he pretended to

this kind of comes across in scenes like where dr gaul tells him if he retrieves sejanus from the arena he'll win the plinth prize but snow tells sejanus it's because they're friends but not as much as in the book

hadn't seen rachel zegler or tom blyth in anything before this movie but they were both really good, they WERE lucy gray baird and coriolanus snow

kind of loved the uniforms the students at the academy wore. they look rich but also a bit ugly and also i love that it's "diversity win! in the dystopian fascist society skirts are gender-neutral!"

when reading the book i found myself thinking lucy gray's songs would be a lot more interesting in an audio format and it's true, i did like hearing them a lot more than reading

actually i was so into the music that during the scene where mayfair lipp and billy taupe died i was like "noooo go back to the music i was vibing with that song!"

one of my problems with the og hunger games movies is that they kind of decreased the horror by having the tributes all played by adults so i liked that a lot of the tributes in this movie really did look like teenagers

i kind of expected this going in since a movie need spectacle but i wasn't a huge fan of them adding more of a bloodbath at the beginning, the point is that the tributes don't want to kill each other and haven't yet been successfully condition by the capitol to do so

the movie did gain back some points with coral's "i can't have killed all those people for nothing" moment right before she died, and also lucy gray's reaction to watching dill drink the poisoned water

on a related note it is a little hilarious to me how often people in hollywood films will take poison and then immediately keel over dead. the capitol must have the most effective rat poison in the world considering it took out 3 separate people in like a minute each

sort of wish they had kept the part where the capitol was like "yeah one of the tributes had an asthma attack and died before the games, we sent a veterinarian to help but she couldn't save him" because it was such an encapsulation of their attitudes towards the districts

i am glad they kept the part with reaper arranging the bodies and everyone being more horrified that he ripped up the flag than anyone dying, and also dr gaul being like "we must now interrupt our entertainment of watching teenagers slaughter each other to announce that, sadly, a teenager has died"

lucky flickerman doing the weather report in between events instead of magic tricks like in the book does really drive home how mundane people in the capitol find the hunger games

were lucy gray's lines about katniss kind of cheesy? yes. was i here for them? also yes

the addition of tigris saying that snow looks like his father at the end of the movie was excellent

when i was reading the epilogue of the book i went "oh this is going to make a great ending to the film" and i dare say i was right

i feel like i should reread the hunger games books now that i am adult with a developed brain who can actually understand all the nuances

#pie says stuff #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the hunger games

[mrsnancywheeler]

(warning this may seem vv incoherent because i just woke up LMFAO)

Ooo while you’re working your magic for the next chapter of the river, I wanted to word vomit a bit about ch.4 LOL

I remember that the thing that absolutely broke me while reading mockingjay was after he was hijacked, Peeta had to fall in love with Katniss all over again. and the same is true for reader and Finnick, except with trust (his sweet girl still loves him even though she thinks he wants her dead☹️).

We alr knew reader was a #paranoid girlie, and snow completely exploited this in her hijacking. But another thing that hurts is realizing how he also reinforced her belief that she deserves to be punished for what she did to Conway. From the moment she won her games, she immediately told finnick that he should have let her die in that arena:(( and despite enduring so much suffering post-games (PTSD, trafficking, and sh tendencies), the guilt still, at least partially, drives her to volunteer for the quell. SO THE THOUGHT OF ALL THIS GUILT BEING AMPLIFIED BY THE HIJACKING IS ACTUALLY DEVASTATING.

And Finnick having to witness all of this :(( he was there for her for everything she went through post-games. He was able to help reassure and work through it with her. But now, he can barely help her like how he was able to before :(

AND I STILL THINK ABOUT WHAT SNOW SAID TO READER WHEN SHE WAS BEING CROWNED “You’ve really proven what these games are about” WHAT💥DO 💥 YOU 💥 MEAN 💥 I thought that he was projecting LMAO. Like he was referencing to how (according to snow) Lucy Gray manipulated his feelings as a survival tactic. Or if there’s another meaning that my brain can’t comprehend at the moment LOL

Ok my thoughts were all over the place so sorry if it was hard to read HAHA. Very excited to see what’s to come🫶

-🦅

yes yes yes, I'm sorry I'm so slow with this one, my schedule has literally been jam packed and I've been falling asleep nearly instantly when I get home 😭

yes and reader can still love finnick even though part of her thinks that he wants her dead, because she thinks it's the kind of fate she deserves. she wouldn't hold it against him if he did so that. she'd deserve it for being so manipulative and callous which inherently makes her untrustworthy. but there's still a level of subconscious preservation that kicks in to make her scared. finnick knows that he's never, for a second thought about anything even close to wanting her dead and now has to watch her own insecurities eat her alive.

because he knows that she's been self destructive since her games, that's why after it was announced the quell would be reaping from the pool of victors he felt so angry and instantly left to try to convince other people to volunteer for her. he knew that she'd see it as yet another opportunity to atone for her so called sins. even if he'd been able to live a mostly happy life with you in the chunks of time you were both left alone to be in the Capitol, he knew that at your lowest lows you'd reject the comfort and refuse to be told otherwise. until he'd basically corner you, love on you, tell you how worthy you were until you cracked enough to open up and accept his help. but now it's clear you want help, but the paranoia makes it so hard to accept it from him.

yes that's one of the meanings for what snow says, but also when gaul asks snow what the games are really about in the end of tbosas, how the games show you who we really are, how fast we go from being prey to the predator in situations like that. our true nature. and she essentially did that, she's just a child, a young girl from district 4,scared she might die, but she has a survival plan. she kills, she manipulates, turns against people, she plays conway with all she's got in order to win, her over him. she preys upon conway, she becomes the predator in her calculated game.

thank you, love you so much 💋💋💋💋

#wanda 💋 #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #the lakes #finnick odair #the river #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #🦅 anon

[infjsnightmare]

How You Met: Guild Style

A/N: Hello! This one was so much more difficult to write. I think maybe I just don't have as good a grip on the personalities of the guild so much. Lol. So, this might have a bit more OOC than the other two. Also, I flip-flopped for a while and decided not to include Francis since he is canonically married, but if anyone wants me to, I can probably include him on the same one that I include any other extraneous characters on. With that out of the way, I sincerely hope that you like this! Feedback of any kind is always welcomed and appreciated.

John: You were scanning the aisles of the convenience store, looking for any food that was on sale. Your eyes lit up when you found a tuna salad sandwich for only 99 cents. You should have enough change for this at least. All your money went to rent since being laid off and you actually hadn't eaten in two days. This was like a holy grail. Placing the sandwich in front of the large man at the register, you turned your change purse inside out. Meticulously counting each coin, you realized you only had 87 cents, which was 12 cents too short. The man scoffed taking the sandwich away as he chastised you and told you to "get a job". You were on the brink of tears when a hand came up from behind you and dropped the remaining needed change on the table. An angry looking young blond man glared menacingly at the employee as he spat at him, grabbing the sandwich and placing it in your hands.

"Why don't you get a life, jackass?"

Lovecraft: The sun was beaming hot as you lay back in the sand and let the warmth overtake you. The smell of the ocean and the distant cry of seagulls relaxed your body. You sighed, sitting up to watch the waves crash against the shore when you saw something dark begin emerging from the water. At first it looked like seaweed, but slowly a tall lanky man in a suit slowly walked up out of the water, absolutely drenched. Your eyes widened in fear as it looked like something straight out of a horror movie. You watched intently as the man walked up on to the beach aimlessly. Then he turned his head at an unnatural to look straight at you.

"Where can I get some ice cream?... It's too hot."

Lucy: You were at work, scrubbing the floors by the cash register even though your shift ended over an hour ago. You weren't going to get paid for this overtime either, but you knew you needed the job to make ends meet. Your boss also knew this, unfortunately, and took advantage of it. The manager lazily eyed you as they were laughing with a friend of theirs who had stopped by. "Put some more elbow grease into it!" You heard the teasing chirp from the idiot. You felt like a dog. Gritting your teeth, you scrubbed furiously, imagining the spot on the floor to be your manager's face. Until you were interrupted by a the voice of a young girl with a slight blush adorning her face, almost the same shade of red as her hair.

"It's really none of my business....and it's not like I care or anything...but, you shouldn't let your employer treat you like a slave."

Edgar: You were perusing the mystery section of the library and had finally settled on which book you would like to read next. Pulling it of the shelf, you tucked the book under your arm and made your way to the sitting area to give the first few chapters a quick read before deciding to borrow it for the week. When you got to the desk, you noticed that there was a printed manuscript left on the table. You set down the book you were holding in favor of the paper-clipped pages. You were delighted by the writing. It was a magnificent mystery. You were smiling from ear to ear as you read each page with fervor. You were slightly take aback at the light tugging at your clothes, looking down to see a raccoon. Followed closely behind him was an adorable man with tousled dark hair and a crimson blush over his whole face.

"Ah! My manuscript! I must have left it here, I'm so sorry!"

Mark: You were walking through your usual peaceful trail in the woods, following the path of a small creek. The crunch of dead leaves underfoot and the crisp autumn air made the atmosphere serene and enticing. You could've have lost yourself to the sounds of nature if it weren't for the the whooping and hollering that you heard further down the creek. As you drew closer, you could hear the shattering of glass breaking, followed by another victorious yell. You finally came to a small clearing, seeing a vivacious young man with bright orange hair shooting rocks at glass bottles with a sling-shot. He looked at your direction and aimed the sling shot towards you. You opened your mouth to protest when he released the stone. It whirred past your head, hitting a bottle strung up on a tree branch behind you. The man beamed with glee.

"Boom! Nailed it!"

Nathaniel: Looking out your window this morning, you felt giddy at the light dusting of snow you saw. Snow was a rarity in December and here it was, on Christmas no less. Placing your jacket on, you dashed out of your apartment to walk and see all the lights around town and the couples holding hands. It was a joyous atmosphere despite it being a minor holiday. You stopped in your tracks when you saw a tall man dressed in priestly garb, sitting and reading from a book that you could only assume was religious in nature. You'd never seen a priest before and were rather awestruck as you watched his silver hair fall in front of his glasses as he poured over his book. You didn't even look away when he stopped reading to stare back at you. Or when he cleared his throat with his brow lifted in irritation. Or even when he stood up and walked the few steps closing the distance between you. But, once he spoke, you finally felt embarrassment as your cheeks felt hot against the winter air.

"You do realize that it is particularly rude to stare, right?"

Margaret: The vending machine whirred as you selected your drink. It was sweltering out and you definitely needed the cool liquid to combat the heat during your break. You'd been moving containers off the ships all morning, so you were pretty beat by the time your break rolled around. You sat on the edge of the dock listening to the squabble between two passengers on a boat. One passenger was dressed in religious attire and seemed apathetic towards the argument. The other passenger was a tall woman dressed in a large frilly dress with a rather robust petticoat. Her honey-hair was pulled up under a sun-hat like a true southern american belle. In opposition to the man's apathy, she seemed quite fiery, eyes steeled and jaw clenched. In a huff, she marched down off the boat. The ramp led next to where you were sitting, eyeing the woman as you drank your beverage. Her eyes snapped towards you as she noticed your watchful gaze. She relaxed her her face ever so slightly meeting your eyes as she motioned towards the man on the ship.

"Bless his heart, but I swear some men just aren't raised proper."

Herman: The rain was was all you could hear as it pitter-pattered against your umbrella while you made your way back home. Your feet were walking along the slippery cobblestone sidewalk with a practiced gait. You always took this path home. The same scenes, the same faces- nothing to shake you from your daze. However, the faintest glow of white caught your attention. You rubbed your eyes with your free hand to confirm that you were, in fact, seeing a small white whale happily floating through the air and rain. You followed it in wonderment until you came across an older gentleman sitting on a bench smoking from a pipe, umbrella propped against the back of his seat. You watched as the whale twirled around. Compelled, you sat on the wet bench, next to the sun-tanned man drawing him out of his own thoughts. He gave you a wry smile as the whale danced between you.

"Care to sit and chat with a tired, old man?"

Louisa: It was a busy day. You were run ragged as you tried to complete all the errands you had scheduled for yourself today. You had already dropped off a few packages at the post office. Renewed your insurance for the year and now you were in a hurry to pick up your dry-cleaning before the store closed for lunch. You picked up your pace, reaching for the door. Only, when you opened it, an armful of bagged clothing came tumbling on top of you. With it, fell a small-framed young lady with round glasses and the cutest flustered expression you'd ever seen. Her eyes widened in shock as her face turned scarlett.

"Oh n-no! I'm so so so so sorry! Please do-don't be angry!"

#readerxguild #readerxbsd #bsd #hope you like this #i tried my best #i really did #the guild #John simp

[anncanta]

The imagery of BBC ‘Dracula’: mythology, alchemy, literature. Part 2

Part 1 is here.

Mirror

One of the cross-cutting images of the entire work, which underlies the very narrative structure on which it is built, the image of the mirror is one of the most ancient in European culture. Which is not surprising – a reflective surface capable of showing a person himself was probably initially perceived as magical – not by chance, as in the situation with photography, the earliest myths and fears associated with mirrors speak of soul abduction.

In Dracula, the image of the mirror is presented at the same time as a literal object that the protagonist fears, his main phobia, a metaphor for his ability/inability to look at himself, and the resulting all this motive of duality that unfolds the story as a drama of reflections.

Let's start with a literal mirror. I don't know if you noticed, but in the first episode, with the exception of the scene in Jonathan's room in Dracula's castle, there are no mirrors at all. And even that only thing of Harker Dracula instantly breaks. It is interesting how he does it – not as a negative character, grimacing angrily at the sight of a hated object, or an unforgettable queen in various versions of the story about Snow White, destroying a mirror showing her not what she wants. Dracula breaks the mirror instinctively, doing it in one movement as if delaying or trying to think about it could be almost more dangerous than the object itself is. It is possible that this is so. He then tells Jonathan that he cannot provide him with another mirror in return, as he does not keep such things in his house. From that moment on, not once during the two episodes did he look at his reflection, including the scene with Dorabella, where the Count shows a young woman what could have been in her life, reflected in the water, but does not look into it himself.

The third episode looks in huge contrast to the first two. Now Dracula, who woke up in the twenty-first century, looks at himself constantly. In fact, if you peer closely, he does just that throughout the episode. And not only literally, but also metaphorically. Which, in general, is logical: given the events that took place in the castle, and then on Demeter, we can assume that for the first time in many years Dracula plucked up the courage to see himself, to meet with himself and think about what he was.

Judging by what the Count sees in the mirror, the answer is not very inspiring.

It turns out that there is nothing majestic, bright, and attractive either in himself or in his life. His spectacular charming appearance is a mask, an illusion, and an old man with gray hair and sunken eyes looks to him from the window glass, his house is a pompous empty room, trying to replace the unattainable sun with an excess of artificial light, his woman is a silly girl who is not afraid of death because she is unable to appreciate life.

The ruthlessness and brightness of the reflections leave no chance for false interpretations. In this sense, the relationship between Dracula and his new lawyer is especially eloquent. You need to understand that the reflection of Jonathan Harker in modern reality is not Jack Seward, but Renfield. Obsequious, stupid, pitiful, ready to do anything for the sake of influence and power. It is the worst mirror the Count has ever seen, and, as he begins to conjecture, perhaps just the one he deserves.

The reflection in Renfield and in Lucy leads Dracula in the end to what he fled from for so many years.

To the needle and the sun.

Needle

When you talk about images in works of art, you always have to keep in mind that images are inseparable from motives and plots with which they travel through time and that every time you discover a particular object and symbol in a text, you, like a fisherman in an old fairy tale, can bring the whole world to the surface. And it doesn't matter at all whether the image is large or small, is it constantly mentioned in the text or is the central one in a single short episode.

In Dracula, the needle occurs only once, but its appearance can serve as an example of how a single image, arising, ‘gathers’ an archetypal story around itself.

Globally, in Dracula, there are two central archetypal plots: the plot of the beauty and the beast and the plot of the sleeping beauty. I suggest looking at how one of them works at the image level.

I'm talking about the plot of the sleeping beauty. 

Let`s recall the episode in the isolation ward. What does Dracula do before making an incision in his arm and filling a test tube with blood? That's right, he gives Zoe a needle. The same spindle, which in a fairy tale makes a sleeping beauty fall asleep (symbolically, like a caterpillar, plunge into a transformative state, from which it will emerge as a butterfly).

In the film, Dracula plays both the role of a witch taking revenge for the fact that she was not invited to the party, and a prince called to wake up the beauty. This is literally shown in the scene when, in a vision of Zoe, who drank the Count's blood, Agatha and Zoe look into each other's eyes, connected by Dracula and standing on opposite sides of him. Moreover, pay attention – Zoe stands behind the Count's back, symbolizing the past, while Agatha is right in front of him, metaphorically meaning the future.

Well, and if this is not enough for someone, a little later they will show us Zoe, lying in bed, and Agatha, entering the door.

And what comes after her?

Sun 

Author`s note

This part of the article contains thoughts that I unexpectedly discovered a few days ago in a beautiful text The Petruvian Man by @devoursjohnlock. I highly recommend this article to those who are interested in the topic of images and the structural construction of Dracula.

In the first episode, the sun rarely appears, in the second it is hidden almost all the time behind clouds or fog, and in the third it crosses the hero's path several times in a row – first in Bob's house, where Zoe threatens to collapse the roof if Dracula does not surrender, then – in the form of golden light, hugging the building of the Jonathan Harker foundation, where the Count is brought in a box, until it finally bursts into the window of Dracula's own house, categorically and victoriously, putting an end to all the vague games.

We will not talk here about the meaning of the sun as reason, consciousness, openness, new life, clarity, and realization of an integral personality. This is understandable, and we talked about this earlier. Let's look at it as an image that is used in this text a little unusual, but that's why it is no less interesting, creating depth and additional context where you don't expect it.

We are talking about the scene at the very beginning, in the first episode, which at first glance seems to be nothing more than a joke, an attempt by the writers to ‘dilute’ the drama, so to speak. But it's not that simple.

Remember how Dracula leads Jonathan Harker to his room and walks past the portraits of Petruvio and the architect’s wife? Remember what he says to Jonathan?

‘This castle was the Widower`s final work. A monument to his lost love and the sunlight, to which he could never return.’ And then Dracula adds: ‘...he died here in the arms of his wife,’ – in response to Jonathan's remark how this could be possible, as Petruvio was a widower, saying: ‘It must have been a cold embrace.’

Reflecting later on this gloomy joke, Johnny concludes that Petruvio considered his wife his sun: ‘What else is sunlight, but the face of one`s beloved?’, and guesses that behind her portrait is hidden a plan of the castle. And then words follow, which, in combination with what was said earlier, create an image that becomes a kind of symbolic prologue to the entire text and at the same time a brief description of the plot.

Finding the plan, Johnny deciphers it and discovers a way out behind Petruvio's portrait. Then he says: ‘Petruvio’s wife was the sunlight, and he stood guard at the door.’

Does it remind you of anything?

What happens in the last scene in the third episode?

The catharsis of the uniting of the two, which became possible only because both realized and accepted their – as we could see from the very beginning – natural roles in this play. Agatha took the role of the sunlight and the liberating power of love and mind, and Dracula – the role of the door.

And on a figurative level, this was laid down from the first minutes of the film. Spoken in words for those who do not read visual messages. Down to the smallest details, like the architect who died in the arms of his wife, who by that time was already dead. As well as Agatha, who was physically dead for one hundred and twenty-three years by the end of the third episode.

Rather, as in the case of the needle, and in many others, here words only confirm and express directly what is said at the symbolic level, and it is impossible to separate one level from other. Reading them at the same time, moving between them, and looking at them together, you can see the whole story, and even guess what is it about.

But more on that later.

Part 3.

#dracula 2020 #bbc dracula #dragatha #meta

[maprron]

Mystery in the Woods - Chapter 4

[I can’t find the chapters so if you are new to this story or just want to remind yourself of what happened like 5 months to update my fanfiction.net is @/maprron :)]

Summary: Lucy's father moves them from their home in Colorado to rural Maine but this small town, despite only having a population of less than 500, has secrets especially in the woods. Will Lucy listen to Natsu and never go into the woods or will the longing get to her? Mainly Nalu with, Gruvia, and Canajane (I will add but those last two are already together in the start)

A/N: sdflkdfjbs I forgot to save this so let's try again. I'm so so so sorry about updating since like... September(?) I really dislike proofreading also please forgive me if there is any mistakes I think I might have dyslexia and I really don't have the energy or time to read this over again because then I will probably change so more things up. So any way I hope you enjoy and I promise I won't take as long next time... probably

I laid awake all night stressing over my plan in which I was going to ditch school in the morning. I had never ditched school and I was troubled with the thought that I might get caught but I needed answers.

The night prior Natsu had suggested that I come over and play some games with his friend and this is where the idea was sparked.

Juvia made a comment about a library that she had heard about before, she heard others had mentioned that it was haunted although she didn't believe them. Natsu's answer was simple, that yes there was a library east of town but it wasn't haunted, he even mentioned that the library belongs to his dad's friend. He also mentioned that she studies the woods and at that moment something told me to go.

"Don't" Natsu pulled me towards him as soon as I began to leave

"Don't what?" I dropped my bag back down at my feet

"I know you were thinking about going to the library" he looked me dead in the eyes with a knowing look, I gulped at his stare

"I wasn't" I lied, it was a shitty lie but a lie nonetheless. The look he gave me knew that I was lying but he let me go

"I'm driving you home" he grabbed his coat and keys and pushed me out the front door with him. This action might have been a way to make sure I didn't try to go right then but even I wouldn't do that, I'm sure if the midnight thing is true but I'm not going to be the one to find out. But I also should have listened to him but at the same time there was something inside me that was telling me to go, that the lady who owned the library would be able to answer all my questions that I have asked ever since I arrived.

The deeper I went into the woods the more I felt the odd feeling I had felt every day since arriving in this odd town. But the scary part was that I was convinced someone was walking right behind me. I could hear the crunch of the snow behind me even when I would pause, they weren't hiding their existence. I was afraid to turn around this time because I knew that this time they were closer than when I first met Natsu. This time they could reach out and grab me, so I walked faster. I knew they were there, what else could have been breathing down the back of my neck. No person would be out here except for me. So I started walking faster which eventually turned into me running through the woods

I soon came upon an old Tudor style mansion. It felt strange as if it didn't belong there but a sign in the yard suggested otherwise.

The sign told me that the home was the place that I had been looking for. I would have been hesitant to walk inside however if it wasn't for the car parked outside of the home and the few toys in the yard that made it look lived in. I was kind of expecting an old rundown home but the only thing that made it look rundown was the ivy running down the walls but even that seemed intentional.

I swiftly made my way inside the library, a bell ringing as I entered.

I looked around at the surprisingly small library "for a house this big you'd expect it would be a little bit bigger" I mumbled, taking a look at the bookshelves which had carvings of dragons and other mythical beings.

And when I turned around I was met with a little girl. She had short blue hair and I noticed that her ears were pointed almost like she was an elf. She held a small white kitten in her arms which had a pink bow tied around its neck. She herself wore a dress that made it look like she was from the 1800s and considering this town she might as well have been.

"Hello?" She tilted her head slightly "mama wasn't expecting any visitors I don't think" the young girl looked around as if she was looking for said women

"Oh uh… sorry I was just told there was a library here and I wanted to see if it is true" I crouched down to her level "I'll leave if I am intruding"

"Aw don't worry you are quite alright" A woman spoke as she walked into the room. This women wore a dress that was a blue-gray color. The sleeves of the dress were loose and almost went past her finger tips. The final part of her dress was the thin ribbon tied around her waist a couple of times, making a crossed pattern, she was dressed as if it was the middle of spring instead of the freezing last days of fall. Her hair which was solid white was tucked into a braid and her skin was much lighter than her daughter's. You could barely tell that they were related but nonetheless they were. And then she looked up and her face it seemed confused and the words that fell out of her mouth confused me as well

"Layla?"

"Um… my name is Lucy" I smiled at the woman. Back home I would be confused for my mother all the time, it was understandable since we look so much alike, but here? I brushed this comment off as maybe she knew another Layla that look a lot like me

"Sorry you just… it's just that you remind me of an old friend that is all" she then dusted her hands off on her dress "now what brings you to these woods? We don't get many visitors and the ones that we do get are usually old friends of mine"

"Well I heard about this library from a friend and I was wondering if you could help me out with something"

"And what is that dear?" She smiled at me

"Well ever since I moved here I have been having these strange feelings" I giggled a little at how strange this was

"A strange feeling?" She flipped through a book

"Yes and well I feel like I am being watched and followed everytime I go close to the woods"

"You…" she looked up at me suddenly

"Have you ever heard of something like this before?" I twiddled my thumbs

"Yes I have but only from certain people and they left years ago" she responded looking back down at her book but her happy face quickly morphed into a face that I could only describe as fear "unless…" she whipped her head up to look at me again "honey what did you say your name was?"

"Oh it is Lucy" she stared at me as a way to tell me to continue "uh… Lucy Heartfilia"

"Heartfilia… no wonder… Layla?" She mumbled every word and I could only catch a few. She seemed confused and concerned and I was equally confused as her. When she called me Layla earlier I didn't think much about it but she actually did know my mom? It's no wonder she mixed us up. But how? How would she know my mom?

"Tell me? Why are you back?! Your mom was supposed to be the last!" She pressed her hands onto the counter as she leaned over it

"My mom has been dead for two years… why are we-"

"What..." she threw her head up and stared at me

"Who are you and how did you know my mom?"

She didn't respond for a moment "I'm Grandeeney, I was your mom's mentor"

"My mom's mentor?" I laughed at her "nothing you've said had made any sense, my mom was born and raised in Colorado"

"Oh so that's what they told you?" She raised up from the counter

I nodded and quickly backed away from her as I noticed she had a new look in her eyes. Of course in such a confined space there is only so far that you can go and I was quickly stopped from going any further by a bookcase. As I hit it a few books fell off the shelf. One of these books opened and a piece of paper fell out. I couldn't make out what the paper said, it was almost as if it was in a different language, but I have studied all kinds of languages and I have never seen these kinds of characters.

I bent down to try and clean up the mess I made and as I reached for the paper my body suddenly was unable to move and before I could understand why my body was flung backwards into the book shelf, this time causing all the books to fall onto the floor

"You're only causing damage, Lucy" her words sounded more like a growl and her eyes… they were different, her eyes were light blue and peaceful when we first met but now they had glossed over and looked deadly. That wasn't the only change in her appearance as I also noticed that her soft white hair had somehow got loose from the braid and now looked spikey, similar to how Gajeel's was. But the strangest thing was that I could have sworn she was covered in feathers and scales.

"What?" But before I could get a good look at her the door was flung open and the room strangely grew warmer. As I looked over to the right of Grandeeney there stood Natsu. He was panting and he looked panicked. His hair was more messy than usual and right under his right eye there seemed to be a couple scale outlines. How he found me may forever be a mystery… maybe

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO COME HERE," he panted and similarly to Grandeeney his words came with a growling noise "SO TELL ME WHY THE HELL AM I FINDING YOU HERE!" he walked closer to me, if I could have backed away I would because for the first time since we met he scared me and for the first time I truly realized that I should have just gone to school this morning.

"I-" I choked struggling to find the words and then I broke "I'm sorry" I started crying, finally gaining control of my body as I fell weakly to the floor.

As Natsu crouched down in front of me a cool breeze blew into the room and it instantly got colder. The heat I felt seemed to vanish as if it never existed.

"Lucy, why are you here?" He grabbed my face and looked me dead in the eyes, wiping my tears with his thumbs

Another change in his appearance that he had moments ago where snake-like eyes but like the faint outline of scales they were gone, maybe I had imagined it all "something told me to come here…" I tried to lean away from his grasp but it was no use

"Why did your father move here?" Grandeeney was back to her normal self when I looked at her, it was almost as if I had imagined the whole incident

"I...don't know" I admitted to her "but we left Colorado in a rush"

"What did he kill someone" Natsu chuckled under his breath

"What exactly happened to your mom?" Grandeeney decided to ignore Natsu's questions as she crouched down beside me, grabbing my hand

"She got sick but no doctor could figure out what she had"

"She...failed?" She fell backwards at the realization that she didn't dare to believe earlier "no...but… we did everything right" she rested her hands against the wood floor

"Grandy?" Natsu rubbed his hand on her back "what happened?" He was quiet which is nothing like him, he seemed to be quiet for once because he himself was scared...

"Acnologia… he was supposed to be sealed away" her face went pale white

"That is where my dad has been… hasn't he?"

"Huh?" she seemed to be struggling to breathe

"My dad has been gone for a month"

She looked up at me "how long have you been here?" A piece of her long, white hair fell into her face

"A month…" I bit my lip nervously worried that maybe I wasn't insane and something was actually after me

"I met her the day after my dad left" Natsu swallowed roughly

"This isn't good" she grabbed Natsu's shoulder as tears rolled down her face "Layla was our only hope"

#nalu #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #nalu fanfiction #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #wendy marvell

[punkandsnacks]

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Four; Acquaintances.

Author: @punk-in-docs​ & @adamsnackdriver​

Also on AO3-

Trigger Warnings: Nothing much to trigger in this chapter - just as the title suggests, a swooning moment or two perhaps-

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

The sky remained hard. Resolutely letting snow sift from the thick great heavens, like icing sugar drifting down. The ground also continued to be frosty hard and scattered with patches of hidden silvery ice.

 No sooner than the sun had risen over the tumbling flat frosty vista of Hampshire hills and frost crusted meadows, than Iris is up, and going about her daily chores all in the life of a gently bred - yet unwed- daughter, of fairly considerable means.

 She takes food parcels to the poor. Calls on sick relatives or companions for tea. Pays calls. Fetched supplies for cook from the butchers or the grocers, or the fishmongers in town.

 When one of the maids is ill, or is suffering a passing heartbreak until the next suitor comes along, Iris is the one to step into the void and fulfil their tasks. She collects the eggs from the chickens at the farm, or makes the ailing girl a hot milk posset or a cup of hot chocolate to cheer them.

 It seemed like every other week their maids, Meg and Julia, seemed to go getting their hearts broken. Some farm hand. Or the boy from the butchers shop. The milliners son, or the strong handsome one who works in the drapers shop. As ever; Iris steps into the fray when - another - devastating crisis comes their way. She helps cook in the kitchen with supper. Or she helps out with idle cleaning around the house. Or see’s to the chores on the farm.

 This morning is no different. Meg took to her bed with an ailing heart of the most acute kind. For the boy she fancies had become engaged to another girl. Iris brings her a cup of chocolate after breakfast and lends her a handkerchief and a shoulder so she can have a good long cry about it.

 So household tasks fall onto her today. Fetching in what cook needed from market for supper. Even though she’d have liked to have spent a morning reading her book, or helping Julia get on top of the household washing. She’s wanted to take down the parlour curtains and give them a good scrub, for weeks now.

 Or today she had ideally wanted to lend Flora and Posy a hand in drying some flowers, and french lavender and roses. For perfumes and bathing oils. They had to use their home grown stock from the gardens carefully. It was a long winter. And the convenience of summer blooms are far off yet. Dried flowers cost a pretty penny up the market.

 Her duties are endless. She’s got calls to pay. Off to the butchers to buy sweet meats and game for the jugged hare cook is making tonight. She needs to buy beeswax candles and salt, and some more soaps.

 And Posy and Flora are allowed to purchase two new ribbons each. They’ll walk into the village with her. No doubt nattering all the way there about what colours they want. And all the way back that they should’ve chosen different ones.

 Iris steps outside in her wintry best and her cracked leather boots. Two pairs of wool stockings this time. Her navy blue wool pelisse over a thick white cotton dress. For good measure, she puts a bonnet on to keep her ears warm, and wraps a gold embroidered shawl around her shoulders.

 Posy and Flora are trussed up as if they’re off to go personally meet the Prince Regent. Flora is in her gold pelisse with her pink dress under. And Posy had her powder blue coat over her mint green dress. They’re both wearing bonnets that they made up themselves. Their hats staggering under the weight of ribbons and cloth and trims and flounces.

 Iris’s was far simpler - No fuss. No trims. A gold straw bonnet with grey ribbon tied under her chin.

 Iris has to chide Posy, when they step out of doors, for forgetting to wear her gloves. She insists she hasn’t a decent pair and slips back into the house to go up to Iris’s room to conveniently borrow her grey rabbit fur lined gloves. Making her elder sister roll her eyes. The plot was clear.

 They had a heavy basket each to carry. Some old granary loaves, soused herring, and some jars of Jam from their kitchens to go to the poor. They’re not even at the end of the drive and Flora is whinging about the weight of her basket. Iris heaves a sigh and grabs it off her.

 She trudges behind them. Both arms carrying heavy baskets.

 Her and Posy link arms, giggling, walking along merrily, animated and discussing last nights ball. Or, more accurately; making sport of the people who’d attended.

 “Did you see that awful Lavender gown Jane Penwell had on?”

 “I thought it suited her very ill indeed.”

 “And did you hear about Lawrence Fisher? Apparently he’s now to be courting Lucy Miller.”

 “I cannot stand her. Last night she was so boastful about the lace trim on her dress. She’s vile. And I haven’t had any new lace on my dress for over a year! Not since last summer. I’m sure she does it deliberately, just to vex me.”

 “You are far prettier than Lucy Miller. She has ten million freckles and no conversation at all. She’s a pale ugly little thing.” Posy’s insisting fiercely to her younger sister.

 Iris is amused by the sheer frailty of their worries.

 “And besides, Mama said she had a letter from Mrs Thornby today, and apparently Lord Ren and Iris were the talk of the ball all night, last eve.” Flora says cheekily.

 Turning over her shoulder to scrutinise her sister with a smug grin that flashes her straight little row of teeth.

 Iris rolled her eyes. Strongly suspecting that as of now, her and Lord Ren would be gossiped about in front parlours for weeks. This was a sleepy country village with little amusement and not much variety to sustain it.

 Mama’s and girls of the Ton would fall on the new shred of tittle-tattle like wolves.

 “He left the ball last night without talking to any other girl, mama said.” Posy explains.

 “The poor man probably didn’t have time enough to get through all the desperate Hampshire girls, eagerly throwing themselves at him to make an acquaintance.” Iris thinks aloud.

 They walk up Westwell’s frosted drive and out onto the snowy lanes that cut through quaint countryside and woods.

 The golden sun is in its early rising, striping ribbons of thick satin gold through the trees. The ruddy browns and ash greys and ochre coppery rusts of the Turner-esque English countryside. Of fields and hedgerows and treetops. The grass is no longer green. It’s a musty white. And that same cloying powder clings onto the dead taupe leaves and branches of every tree. The air is bitter to breathe in.

 Iris takes a deep lungful of it, and its like a chest full of sharp pins. Needling at her lips and her neck. She should’ve thought to employ a wool scarf. As it is she can only tuck her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Tucking the heavy baskets into to dig deeper into her elbows. The frost numbs her feet, and sneaks up her skirts and snatched cruelly at her legs.

 She clenched her numb fingers, scrunching and unscrunching them up in her much too thin gloves.

 Posy and Flora continue their giggling and swapping tidbits of gossip about Lord Ren.

 “You know he didn’t even dance with anyone!”

 “A great sin, I’m sure. Punishable by death.” Iris thinks to herself under her breath.

 “He probably didn’t have time-“ Posy remarks.

 “Or he doesn’t know how.” Flora supposed.

 “A man that lofty, of course he can dance. Maybe he prefers not too.”

 “Maybe he has a false leg, or, or a war wound!”

 Iris rather wishes her ears were purely ornamental by this point.

 Give me a pair of vestigial ears anytime you wish. She idly prays. Turning her eyes skywards.

 “Maybe he’s shy-“ Flora squeaks. Posy clasps her hand over her mouth and laughs so loudly it startles the chaffinches out the trees.

 “I don’t think he can afford to blend into the wallpaper with a stature like that.” Flora grins.

 “His shoulders were twice the width of me.” Posy says dreamily.

 “Did he have soft lips Iris? For you must’ve felt them through your gloves... Were they heavenly?” Flora demands to know. Both sisters walking in step alongside her now.

 She side eyes them. “That is not a proper thing to discuss. And well you know it Flora Jane Ashton.” Iris insists. Concealing her secrets to herself.

 She wasn’t telling her sisters how her whole body burst into shivers popping and skipping up her spine. How his touch made her skin feel like it was dancing of its own accord. Free from her body. She shivered yet she was blushing hot.

 His lips were the softest, sweetest things that had ever come into contact with her body.

 Her whole arm felt dizzy afterwards. It wasn’t possible. But that’s how it felt. Hours after she was still rubbing the patch where his lips had lain on her satin gloves.

 When she got home after the ball, she peeled her glove off and looked at her hand.

 It still looked ordinary. Her skin wasn’t red or marked - but it felt like it should be. It felt as if something utterly astounding had happened to her.

 The memory of his eyes gazing their arrow-striking glare into her own haunted her head all night long. Swam behind her closed eyelids in her sleep. Those opulent piercing eyes.

 “We won’t tell a soul.” Posy promises

 “Oh, look. Here is the Barton’s cottage. Flora pass me the ointment for Mr Barton.” Iris demands.

 Seeing the little boxy cottage coming into view. Roof thick with iced thatch. Walls butter yellow. With fat pink sickly rose vines creeping up the walls. Iris sees the chimney is smoking. They must be home keeping warm on this frigid morning. Acrid woodsmoke from the house drifts across the woods.

 They deliver the ointment into Mrs Barton’s hand. Along with some jam, a loaf, and pickled goods to see them through the wintry cold week. They were a frail elderly couple after all. And Iris likes helping people. She always had. Her mother always insisted she’d been cursed with an unshakable vein of kindness.

 Which often meant as a child she was forever taking in birds wounded falling out their nests in the gardens. Leaving carrots out for the wild rabbits. Seeds for the birds. Feed for the little monk-jack deers. She shared all her dolls as a girl. Forever saw to caring for the people and creatures which surround her. She visits the infirm with medicine. Reads to the lonely old matrons who’d lost all the grandchildren of their own.

 Now she’s grown that inclination hasn’t left her. She likes making sure none of the infirm elderly, or the more impoverished friends of her acquaintance suffer through the bitter cold climes. They never have to struggle alone. Iris is a balm to the hurting. She gives what she can. And is a friend to everyone kind enough to recognise it.

 Before long, the trio of ladies dispense their generosity upon those who need it. Giving what sustenance and leftovers they can spare. It’s not much really- when all is said and done. But it’s helping in any little way possible. And that’s what matters.

 They come eventually into Pembleton high street. The every busy and jagged row of higgledy Tudor houses. Separated by a lane of sticky brown mud where horses hooves and carts churn up the dirt. Carts and stalls line the streets. Modest shopfronts sell their wares. The air is full up of woodsmoke and the scent of roasting nuts from the brazier on the stand nearby.

 Iris loses Posy and Flora very quickly to the haberdashers, where the ribbons hang from great silken trails in racks from the ceiling. Every colour Imaginable.

 She sees them fussing over Belgian lace and leaves them be. She steps into the butchers for Cooks desired hare and sweet meats. She buys the candles, salt and the paper wrapped little cakes of soaps from Mr Milton’s shop next door.

 She crosses the street to the grocers. Fills her basket with green leeks, onions, potatoes and carrots. She tucks everything in her basket, around the poor lamented hare with its fur still on, and covers it with a patterned linen cloth.

 She has a shilling spare- she wanders over to Mr. Greeley. The proud proprietor of the roasted nuts stall. She buys a bag of warm, buttery sweet chestnuts.

 Hides them from Posy and Flora. This was her one little indulgence for today. She sneaks one of the hot things onto her tongue and savours it.

 She strides back up the line of shop windows. Looking and listening to the clack and bustle of the street behind her. Clopping hooves, rattling carts, ponies and traps clunking along the high street. Friends and acquaintances stopped to gossip and chat in the street. Young and old. Of every walk of life.

 She looks in the drapers window. The reflection off the glass, showed her a watery image of a gaggle of matronly mamas stood behind her across the street, loudly gossiping in her direction. Pointing and gesturing toward her.

 She rolls her eyes in huffing annoyance.

 She wasn’t enjoying being the inconstant centre of attention. Open to such censure and fascination in odes to the Hearst’s ball last night.

 Also in odes to the mysterious new stranger to these shores, too. The dark, dashing, and taciturn Lord Ren.

 Every wet-behind-the-ears girl in all of Hampshire was busy envisioning their swirled initials joined with his in their embroidery. A big handsome stranger from far off lands. It was the precursor to the stuff of romance from drippy novels. A harbinger of a great love story.

 Maybe not hers. Lord Ren may have kissed her hand and called her handsome. But so have countless other rich suitors, and then two months later them and their pretty blonde heiress of ten thousand pounds, are lavishly married and installed in a house in Brunswick square. She’s sure he’ll eventually find some far more moneyed girl to march into matrimony.

 It won’t be her- not her turn to pick out her wedding clothes. It never is.

 She lets the whispers and doubts about her, flourish from unimportant mouths.

 She never cared for the savagery of society. She won’t start being missish about it all, now. It won’t serve her any purpose-

 She can only hope the next scandal or engagement or elopement, or any other source of fascination to the bored inhabitants of this county, comes flooding in quick to snatch away all unhealthy - and rather undue - interest in her.

 She waits outside the haberdashers for her pair of silly sisters. They eventually come out. Comparing their new ribbons with each other’s. Flora has a pink, Posy has some frothy white lace.

 Posy hands Iris a teal silk ribbon. “For your hair. It would become you so well. And it will go with your eyes.” She insists.

 Iris smiles. Wrapping the long length of satin around her grey glove. It was very pretty.

 “Pray how did you afford this?” Iris narrows her eyes in smiling suspicion at the pair of them.

 “I saved up my allowance.” Posy insists plainly. Iris continues her look. She tilts her chin down a notch. Let’s her eyes harden to steel. Arched her muddy shaped brows.

 “...And the haberdasher’s son is so very obliging.” Flora beams. The younger Ashton’s giggle together knowingly.

 Iris sighs again. Strongly suspecting she could safely boast that she had two of the silliest siblings in the entire country. Hell, in the entire British Empire.

 “Let’s take our leave shall we...” Iris says. Slowly heading away. Down the street in the opposite direction they came. It took them home down on the woodland path.

 She picks up her pristine white skirts and steps over the mud. Baskets heavy with her goods now thunking against her hip as they walk. One filled with meat. The other with candles and potatoes and other luxuries for supper.

 Posy and Flora trail behind her. Discussing how best to use their ribbons. On bonnets or around the waistline of their favourite dresses. Iris drowns them out and listens to the crunch of her feet on the frost. The silver wisp of her breath as its whisked away up into the reach of the sky. She likes how sun glimmers off frost like sparkles and diamonds and gems. Like something fine and rich.

 They just come across a curve in the lane. Leading through an open meadow full of frosted grass and withered wildflowers. When a thundering sound gallops into being, hitting the hard ground in succession from beyond the bend.

 Iris looks up, attention captured swiftly by the beast of a large rider atop a colossal shimmering black horse, moving quick towards where they are walking along the quiet little lane. The peace shattered by the horses hooves pounding the earth.

 A great hulking beast of a man sits astride it. Who indeed almost matches the brutally-enormous muscled intensity of the creature he rides.

 Lord Ren.

 Iris startled and went to move aside. But he sees them and is already slowing the horse. She draws a deep breath and watches as he tugs the reins to reel in his galloping mount. Reducing to a canter, a trot and then to a slow stop. Hooves churning up frost and spitting wet and crushed muddy grass, under its enormous stomping treads.

 The sun in fiercely shining behind him. So Iris can only make out the silhouette at first. There’s no mistaking that singular body for another man. The primal size and bulk of him is unmistakable.

 But then he shifts forwards on his horse as it stops. Lumbering towards them all. And that winter sun shines amber over his shoulder and she’s met with the full face of the handsome man she became acquainted with yesterday. His breath and that of his horses turn to silver smoke in the cold air

 He passes the strops of its black reins into one gloved leather hand. His attire not much changed since yesterday. Still all black. The shining calf riding boots. The breeches that sit entirely too snug to the sturdy trunks of his legs and hips. The tailored black wool coat. White shirt tied with an elaborately knotted wine coloured cravat. Diamond pin studded central into the tie of the cloth.

 His hair is free and rumpled by the wind. Desirable and untamed. Wild. He wears no top hat on his head like most gentlemen of civility did, when out riding.

 Something about that lack of full dress she admires. Maybe he likes to feel the wind tangle his hair. The suns kiss his pale skin. The wind stinging at his cheeks. Likes galloping across the terrain at full speed on his mammoth sized beast of a horse.

 “Good morning ladies.” He nods to them all. Still seated on his horse.

 “Miss Ashton.” He smiles directly down at Iris as his horse shifts and stomps and nibbles the dewy wet grass below.

 She ducks her head and curtseys. “Good morning. Your Lordship.” She says politely. Dwarfed by his horses shadow.

 He holds her gaze for a second and smiles. Eyes more opulent charcoal in their shade than ever, this morning. He even had a kiss of pink colour in his cheeks. He looks healthy. Less alabaster pale. She strongly suspects its because of the icy wind stinging his cheeks as he rode.

 He unlatched his right boot from the stirrup and smoothly swings himself off the horse. Grips the pommel at the front of the black saddle and swings himself down. Feet land to earth with a crunching thud. Frost and grass crushed underfoot.

 His long wool riding coat flaps at his knees. Billowing open at his chest to show just his white shirt beneath it. Such thin layers. He must’ve been freezing.

 “If I may be so bold, Miss Ashton, allow me to see you along to your intended destination?” He asks kindly. One big hand patting the solid flank of his horses shoulder when it huffs at his dismounting.

 Iris’s cheeks go flaming red. She’s sure of it. Throat dry she manages to answer.

 “Oh. Forgive my impertinence Lord Ren. But I don’t wish to take you out of your way. Only we are heading in the opposite direction to your path.”

 “With your permission. I should like to walk with you. I’ve done a sufficient amount of riding for this morning.” He tells her.

 Iris smiles. Flattered that he’d rearrange his ride, just to see her safely home. Just to walk with her for a moment or two.

 Posy digs a sharp elbow into Flora’s ribs. Which jolts the youngest into speaking. “Iris. We were just going up the lane here to call on Charlotte Morris.”

 Iris gazes pointedly at Flora with a piercing state that could’ve rivalled a dressmakers needle. “How remiss of you not to bring it up until now...” Iris glares a little.

 “Should you mind?” Posy asks. Fluttering her lashes.

 “Of course not.” Iris says flatly. “Mind the hour home and do for heavens sake be sensible.”

 “We are the very vision of sensibility.” Flora beams.

 Iris quirks a wry brow at the both of them. Teeth grit.

 The two most transparent pests on the planet. Their plot was clear as day- One of sneaking away and leaving their elder sister unchaperoned and alone with him.

 They turn away giggling and make for the little lane opposite. Gabbling and whispering all the way. Loud giggles follow them like fluttering birdsong.

 When she turns back to Lord Ren he looks slightly amused. She blushes.

 “I feel I ought offer an apology, your lordship. They are- most puerile and trying at times.” Iris offers as she shifts to step nearer to where he is.

 He smiles gently. “They are young girls who fancy themselves cunning, I wager. No apology is necessary for that.” He declares affably. Patting his horses neck.

 He brings the big horse around. Holding the gathered reins in his left hand. He leads his gigantic horse around with a click of his tongue and some soft words in urging Bavarian. The big creature follows his lead. She moves and alters the heavy baskets on her arms.

 He sees this. Kylo frowns at the heavy weights at both her elbows. She shouldn’t be tasked with fetching and carrying like a damned pack horse. He extends a hand. “Allow me, Miss Ashton.”

 “Oh, no it’s- I couldn’t.” By the time her protestations die on her lips. He has one basket in one hand, the other, he tied the handle to a saddle bag strap on his horse. Lays it rest against the saddle.

 She’s mortified that a Lord offers to carry her basket for her.

 “That’s truly a magnificent horse. I’ve never seen the like before.” She says. The steeds eyes glitter as if it knows it’s being discussed. “What’s his name?” She asks rummaging in her basket he holds. Hand slipped under the cloth.

 “Erland.” Kylo says. The horses ears twitch.

 “Erland. A majestic name. For a majestic beast.” She smiles at him.

 She steps up to the horse and strokes her gloved hand down the flat bone between his eyes, leading down to his snout. Scents of hay and oats and animal sweat pour musky off his coat.

 “He’s a lovely animal.” She says. Stroking his solid flank.

 “Percheron. He’s a French draft horse. His breed originated in the Huisne valley in western France.” Lord Ren tells her.

 “Bred for use as war horses, and pulling stagecoaches. This one has a fair mount of Arabian blood in him too. Makes him far too proud and headstrong.” He announces. Erland flicks his swishing tail at his owner. Snorting at him.

 “I bought him with me from Bavaria. He’s the best riding horse I’ve had for a while. Stubborn temperament.” He offers. He watches her stroke his head. Touch the soft spot behind his ears.

 “You like animals, Miss Ashton.” He states.

 Most girls, as far as he’s aware, deigned horses as smelly, ugly creatures, whose only purpose was beneath them. Or to pull their carriages. She seemed to like this big equine creature very much.

 “I do. Especially ones who are as beautiful as him.”

 “Careful. Or else that flattery will shoot right to his ego.” He warns lightly.

 She smiles.

 Erland’s hairy velveteen muzzle cheekily nudges at her shoulder for more affection. He clearly likes her touch. Kylo tugs on his reins and frowns at him.

 “Benehmen Sie sich.” Kylo rumbles in a firm Bavarian command at his horse. Calling him back. Telling him to be good. Rubbing his stocky shoulder. The round strong bones of him and the hot silk of his coat underneath his gloved palm.

 She smiles. Lets the carrot she fetched from her basket, sit in the flat cradle of her gloved palm. She offers it to Erland, who snuffles it up and crunches on it. Breaking the frail vegetables skin with his big teeth. Munching it all down. Nuzzles her for more when he’s done.

 He snorts when Kylo speaks up. “Anymore and you’ll get fat. You great beast.” He assures his horse in that soft foreign dialect. Shoving his snout into Miss Ashton’s hand for yet more treats. Erland’s head was so big and his power so strong, he could’ve very realistically knocked her over with one push.

 She steps back and takes her place alongside a Lord Ren so they can continue in their walk. He’s a busy man. She doesn’t wish to hold him up. They fall into step easy. Her on Kylo’s left, Erland in his big lumbering enormity on Kylo’s right. His master has his right hand holding his stallions reins. The other easily carries her basket for her.

 “Did you enjoy your introduction into Hampshire society, Your lordship?” Iris can’t help but ask him with mirth creeping into her voice and on her smile.

 He turns his head to look at her. “The sheer amount of handsome and accomplished young ladies hereabouts is staggering.” He comments with dry humour. “I wonder if this isn’t the most accomplished county in all of England.” He states.

 Iris finds herself smiling. Every desperate mother worth her salt last night would be crowing her daughters praise to high heaven. Enough to induce the possibility that her very accomplished, pretty and upstanding daughter might have a chance at landing him.

 “Mothers can be so very domineering when the subject of marriage arises.” Iris promises. Looking down to step over a particularly frosty puddle.

 Kylo looks across at her. Watches her profile. Along the curve of her nose and the swell of her smiling lips. It occurred to him then, that she didn’t know of her beauty. She was not aware of its potency. He could sense it; this was a girl who overlooked her own worth and highly underestimated her attractiveness.

 With her pebble-ash eyes shining in the marigold sun like that, sparkling as if made of moonstone gems, and her rosy smile so unguarded and free. She didn’t see her beauty then. Not the way he could. Didn’t see it lay in the kiss of pink in her cheeks or the merriment of her face. On the geniality of her laugh and smiles.

 “I know I shouldn’t comment on such things. But I do feel so dearly for every new suitor who comes to this village. Every Mama and every daughter must veritably drown poor men with their female offspring.”

 Kylo raises one brow. “Rest assured. I’m not a man so inclined to favour polite safe conversation.” He promises her. He doesn’t tiptoe around propriety.

 “And I will admit I lost count of the young ladies I was introduced too last eve. My ears were quite ringing with names and sickly smiles by the end of the evening.” He confesses.

 She smiles wide again. Looks across. “I do sometimes wish that the people here could look beyond the scope of their own ignorance. To look beyond the defining goal of matrimony.” She confesses.

 “Why should a woman’s worth be tied onto who she weds? Can she not be her own person and find a man to suit that.” She avows. Letting her stalwart brain run away with her rather passionate mouth.

 “That’s very forward thinking of you.” Kylo says to her with a kind smile. Her face falls. She’s inspired insult with that comment.

 She’s flushing with embarrassment.

 “Mother would faint if she heard me confess that to you. Do forgive me, for the impertinence of my tongue.” She begs. Face wrinkling into a worried frown.

 “You have a mind. Miss Ashton.” Kylo says. “It’s entitled to make itself known.”

 “I’m a gently bred, unmarried, woman. And the eldest daughter, Lord Ren. My mind should be silent at all times. And possessed only, night and day, by thoughts and longing for matrimony.” She says. Quoting one of her mother’s rants.

 “Well. You have my word. I’m most blessedly glad it’s not.” He says. Turning to look deep into her eyes.

 She seems curiously confused. “You are?”

 “Indeed.” He answers plainly.

 “It means you are the one woman in this entire county with whom I can conduct a refreshing conversation. One that doesn’t revolve around reminding me again and again, that I’m a rich man who desperately needs a wife.” He offers.

 “I’m glad to hear it.” Iris says laughing. “Not often I happen find someone on the same page as myself.”

 “English men may find your so called ‘impertinence’ intolerable, Miss Ashton. For they were raised to know no better. But I am not a English man. Where I came from, it is applauded that a woman might speak her mind and have judgements and executions of her own.” He supplies.

 “Our way of life here must seem so strange and strict to an outsider.” She dares. The defining pinnacle of English country society was its savage nature, after all.

 “I don’t see much of the society in Bavaria.” He explains. “I see to the welfare of tenants on my land. I go hunting every season to pass the time. I’m afraid I rarely indulge in attending parties and balls.” He tells.

 “A castle must be an incredible home.” She guesses.

 “Even so- it can be very limiting being confined to it in the cold dark winters. Very little company. Little to entertain. I found myself wanting a change of scene. I had looked for some land opportunity’s to enclose in over here. When Hellford became available. It seemed a good opportunity to travel. Sink my teeth into a new venture.” He smarts. Eyes darkly roaming over her face with that handsome smile.

 She nods. “I quite understand.” Erland clops alongside them in the misty morning sunshine. Snorting breaths silver and wispy still in the biting air.

 “What are the winters like in Bavaria?” She enquires.

 He smiles. “Beautiful. But bitter.” He explains. “The snow can be deep. As tall as me some days when it falls.” She smiles at his description.

 “The castle stands out of a tall pine forest. A lake and a river to the east. One of the biggest woods in the country. Full of wolves, boars, and deer. It’s quite a wilderness in its own right.”

 “Goodness- wolves. Isn’t that terribly dangerous?” She frets.

 Not as much as me. He thinks. Matter of fact, when he steps foot in that forest, he is the most bloodthirsty dangerous animal in it.

 “The beasts respect the boundary of my castle. I respect the forest is theirs. It’s a symbiotic relationship.” He tells her.

 “Surrounded by wolves. You must feel very at home here too, then.” She jokes.

 He laughs. “There’s something familiar I grant. Though the wolves back home don’t don lace caps and thrust all their daughters at me.”

 She laughs at his remark. And suddenly, she goes spinning off course. Her worn boots slipping on a sneaky patch of frost and ice. No grip to their soles in this devilish cold. A yelp leaves her mouth as she skids. Blood flashing flushing hot and terrible suddenly. The shock of slipping stabbing at her stomach.

 He acts quick. He lets go of Erland’s reins and steps that big form forwards and snatched one arm out to grab her. Slips back around her waist, cups the back of her hip, and yanks her tight to him to stop her falling.

 She gasps and trembles as her vision spins, to be quickly halted by a sheer wall of cold, dark clad muscle. She barely registers where she is now.

 Because she’s pressed right up into Lord Ren’s redoubtably firm chest. Her palms crushed flat on his lapels. His arm seizing her back and cupping her onto him to stop her slipping. She can feel under her coat how her breasts are crushed flat to him. Can feel his breathing heaving up and down, much like her own.

 A shaky gasp leaves her mouth as she looks up, peering past the peak of her bonnet with flaming cheeks. Realising that they are slanted very close together. His face is right there, and he’s gazing down at her.

 She’s in his arms. Buried into his chest. And it feels incredible. Such musculature and sheer masculine mass under her palms. Her head swims. He’s dizzying. Hypnotising.

 Eyes as dark as burnt-ember molasses flecked with gold, and his lips look so invitingly pink ripe and soft- she curses at herself for that treacherous thought and her blush rises more. His wool coat and cologne nearly smacks her in the nose as she almost collided into his pectorals.

 Kylo can hear her fluttering heartbeat. Like a racing preys pulse beating wild. Frail and fast, like a baby birds. A huge drift of her fragrance absolutely drowns him, pulls him under. Clary sage, French lavender and peppermint. Sweet and calming. Addictive. He wants to lean down and taste the salt of it off her neck...

 It seems an eternity passes before he speaks.

 “Are you hurt?” He asks. Making sure she didn’t turn one of her ankles. Or damage the bone

 “T-Thankyou. I’m, I’m well.” She gasps. “I’m so sorry- I” She explains moving her hands down off his chest. He nearly swept her up off her feet. Now only her tiptoes brush the icy ground. The only part of her barely rooted to earth. Lost in those eyes.

 Domineering, commanding, brutal, eyes. Eyes that had seen this world ten times over. But never gazed upon anything comparable to her-

 Erland brings them both back down to earth. Snorting and fussing. Swishing his tail and nudging his nose at his masters shoulder.

 Sense swims back through the fog of attraction and the heady bloom of lust. Kylo unleashes her back and her hip from his hold.

 Quite liking the feel of her he accidentally - and literally - caught underneath her coat. The plump of her thighs and the shapely flesh of her hip and her bottom. There’s doubtless a figure to rival Venus herself, under this shapeless coat and thin dress. She slowly drags her hands off his chest and steps back. Avoiding the ice beneath her toes. Her gloves rasp on his fine wool coat.  

 “You fell. Miss Ashton. No need to be sorry for such a thing.” He tells her.

 “You’ve a steady hand, Lord Ren.” She compliments. Thanking him further. He still held her basket in the arm that had not reached out to catch her. He looked as if he barely had to flex out an arm to catch her. Just twisted his body. His reflexes were sharp and cunning. As strong as he was.

 He reached out and retook Erland’s reins.

 They continue walking carefully along the little lane. For Westwell is just beyond the tree line now. It saddens her that she’ll be home soon.

 Back to her daily chores. Back to scrubbing curtains, and helping cook roll pastry and mediating the silly shouting screeching arguments that Posy and Flora have over who gets to take turns to wear their favourite bonnet

 She reflects how restoring it is to talk to someone so fully - without having to watch or guard her tongue. It’s even more enlightening to talk to someone such as him. Someone who, like her, feels like an outsider. Never fully fits in. And harbouring no desire too.

 She feels her heart sink, morbid mournful and grey settling in her ribs, when they come to the meagre gateway along the short drive to Westwell. The twin stone pillars signifying the gateway were old and crusted with frosted moss.

 Kylo calls Erland to halt. She pats the wonderful beasts strong shoulder in goodbye. He rubs the great velvet plain of black his forehead at her. Kylo untied her basket and handed it to her.

 “I’d have no hesitation in seeing you to the door directly. But I fear your mother might see fault with our being left unchaperoned.” He disclosed. Giving her back the groaning full wicker basket with a clever grin.

 She shivers when their hands brush. If she had any doubts in her attraction, that betraying little Judas of a tingle that thrashed her body, made her realise otherwise.

 She likes him-

 “Astute observation, your lordship. I Thankyou for your discretion.” She blushes. Hooking the baskets back on her arms. Adjusting the shawl where it had slipped down from her shoulders.

 She looks down into her basket, and smiles. “A token of gratitude.” She explains before handing over the still warmed bag of chestnuts across to him.

 He cradled them in his leather gloved hand. Appreciative of the gift. He rarely ate food. There wasn’t much need for it and it wasn’t the manna that’s sustained him. He had little joy in any human sustenance - apart from humans themselves.

 When he did eat food, it was red meat that was still rare, juicy, and dripping blood. And he only drank sharp deep red wine.

 He reaches over and took her hand. Once again dropping Erland’s reins. He took her dainty hand and brought it up and bows to kiss her palm.

 He’s tired of satin and calfskin under his lips. He rather wanted to grasp a taste of her skin. Soon.

 “Always a pleasure, Miss Ashton. I hope the experience of your company repeats itself shortly.” He compliments.

 She smiles, apples of her cheeks creasing dimples with her widened smile. She nods politely and curtseys. “Your Lordship.” She curtseys gently. Bonnet tipping forwards. Criminally covering that beautiful face of hers.

 She turns and he watches her walk up the pale lane to home. Sun striping through the trees onto her bleached linen white skirts. Bleached by sunshine. And softly scented of fresh cotton and French lavender.

 Miss Ashton is made up of good intentions and possesses a giving heart as pure as gold. Pure. That’s his little dove all over-

 He looks down in his hand and weighs the small bag of nuts she’d gifted him. He lifts it to his nose and inhales their scent. Buttery, sweet, burnt and acrid.

 He tips his eyes back up to watch her. Thought creases up his brow. He’ll never know how it is to have such a virtue as a kind heart.

 She was made up of honour and purity and softness. Doves feathers, lavender and rose petals. And he is made of cruelty. Of war and broken glass and shards of steel. He was made between ash and snow and a landscape soaking swimming festering in blood. 

There’s no kindness in him. No mercy. Barely any love in him either. 

 He cares little for humans. After he was turned. That’s just how he became. They became meaningless specs of nothing to him. She has no idea what he is- who he is- he’s sent entire scores and countries of men shrieking to their deaths and writhing in agony into hell, cursing his name on their lips.

 And here she was handing him this little harmless gift, like he wasn’t one of the most fearsome beasts put on this earth.

 She’s not far away when she turns back - just as he’s about to mount Erland to ride back to Hellford Park once more. He tucks her meaningful present into his coat pocket.

 “Erland... Is that a Bavarian name?” She turns and asks curiously. A kind frown on the lintels of her eyebrows. She tilts her head curiously. Her grey eyes glitter innocently off the sun like honey poured onto slate.

 She’s so innocent. And it strikes him so deeply right then. How much he admires that.

 He hoists himself into the saddle using the pommel. Feet slipping in the stirrups. Hips resting back onto the cantle behind him.

 “It is a Norse name.” He calls to her. Erland is whinnying excitedly. Stomping his hooves to get out to the open fields and get his blood pumping. Kylo can feel the excitement shivering through his stocky legs.

 “What does it mean?” She seeks.

 “In old Nordic tongue, I believe it means ‘Outsider.’” He tells her.

 She smiles. “Well. I trust you both know you have atleast one friend in this Hampshire county.” She smiles.

 “Good day, Lord Ren.” She beams brightly. She turns away and she’s already missing the gaze of those melting cocoa eyes appraising her warmly.

 Her skin still thrashes from the memory of his touch. All over her skin is alive with the memory of that strength of his. His chest under her hands she’s never felt the like- he was as cold and solid as marble. Some Greek god manifested out of carved stone and come to life.

 He turns Erland back onto the snowy road. Clicks his tongue and urges him to run with a sharp dig of his shoe into his side. He feels the ice and the wind sting his skin for all the ride home.

 He thinks about her parting gift and her touch against his body for the rest of the day - truly he does. It’s moved him.

 He hasn’t been moved so much by another being in all of his years.

   ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

#kylo ren #kylo ren oc #vampire!kylo #vampire au #very wolves and doves #Iris vibes 🕊 #Lord Ren vibes 🐺 #Draegan vibes 🥀 #vampirelovestory #vampire #demon #ao3 fanfic #lovestory #angst #slowest of slow burn #slow burn

[luna-the-moth]

Obey Me! Headcanon Game

Soo...I found this through a discord channel, so let’s get to it shall we? (Prepare to read a long ass questionnaire)

OG link (Credit to cerise_noire8 on Twitter)

(Made on Picrew)

1 • What is your MC’s name? What is their name origin? What does it mean (if it ever has a meaning).

Ayano Miasako. Not any explanation for that yet.  Her mentor, Cleo calls her “Aya” Nickname in the mafia was “Silver”

2. When is their birthday? How old are they? What about their zodiac sign? (bonus point if you give their rising or even their birth/natal chart)

February 23    23-25.        Capricorn

3.  What is your MC’s gender? And what are their sexual/romantic preferences?

Female.  Bisexual

4. What is your MC’s race? (human, demon, angel, other). If human, what are their nationality and origins?

Ayano’s human with a relation as Lilith’s descendant. Ayano’s half Japanese/Korean. She was born in Kyoto and was raised in the mafia. 

5. Before coming to Devildom, what was their occupation? (job, studies...)

She was a mafioso until age 20, when she left. As a compensation for leaving, she has to wire the boss a certain amount of money per year. Ayano has a penthouse in Tokyo with her cat, Luci. She now works as a business tycoon, and wins most of her money from gambling and business investments. Ayano has a degree in anthropology and psychology

Ayano in the Mafia

6 • Height? Weight? Describe their body type.

Ayano’s 5’6 (167cm).   She’s around 140 lbs or 64kg.  Ayano has a medium-large bust, an hourglass figure, and decent sized ass

7. Who is/are your MC’s love interest(s) (if they ever have one). Summarise their dynamic.

Mammon, her protective Tsundere. Or Satan, the sly and intelligent bookworm trying to find his true self. She’s the ultimate tease to Mammon, knowing he likes her but is waiting for him to make a move. Mammon ends up flustered. She and Satan try to out-flirt each other with cheesy pickup lines and are often seen sitting next to each other in a loveseat, with tea and a good book. Satan calls her kitten, Ayano calls him her knight in shining armor (jokingly.) Mammon calls her “my lucky charm” Ayano calls him “blackjack,” but prefers calling all the boys by their names.

8 • Does your MC have any specific appearance features? (Scars, marks, anything else)

Ayano has various scars from her time in the mafia. She has 2 prominent stab wounds on her upper back from a betrayal. A yakuza tatoo on her hip. Plus a medium slash scar on her stomach. She got two black feathered wing tattoos on them to represent her freedom from the mafia. Ayano has heterochromatic eyes, left green, right purple. Usually wears a green contact over the purple to hide it. She also has distaichis (double lash layers). Jet black, waist length hair, pale-snow white skin. She usually sports this outfit 

Wears a new type of nail art every 1-2 weeks depending on her mood. Lovesss jewelry

9 • Does your MC have any disabilities? (physical, mental health, etc). How do they deal with it?

Depression and anxiety. Solution: do a Lucifer and does anything and everything to keep her mind occupied. She also makes friends with cheerful people

10 • How do you imagine your MC’s voice? Describe it.

Medium pitch, smooth, lulling voice. Has a slight new york accent even though she’s never been there (taught by Cleo) Mostly formal in public and swears every so often. (she refrains from doing so around Luke). Her singing voice is very powerful, has a wide range of pitches, and can enchant many. 

11 • Does your MC have any tattoos or piercings? Just tell us more about it!

2 black wings on her stab wounds on her back. A yakuza tattoo on her hip. A normal piercing on both ears with a few helix piercings as well

12 • Describe their clothing style (if they have a favorite style). Do they have specific accessories? 

Bonus question: how do they wear RAD uniform?

Ayano’s fashion style is fashionista, dark fashionista, occasionally gothic/elegant lolita. Loves leather and silver. She often wears a silver necklace gifted (stolen?) from her mentor, with her mother’s silver ring hanging from it. Fingerless, black leather gloves. Usually wears a ring on her right hand, middle finger. Ayano wears the RAD uniform properly, with a red tie, black jeggings, and thigh-high black boots.

The redesigned RAD uniform

13 • Is your MC able to use magic? If so, are they skilled? How do they learn? Were they able to use it before coming to Devildom?

Yes, when she came to the Devildom, Solomon decided to teach her to hone her skills. In the human world, when really pissed, light bulbs would burst in her presence. Ayano learns quickly, so yes, she became skilled in a small time frame. She’s fond of enchanted jewelry (because they are pretty and have practicality)

14 • Describe your MC’s parents (names, jobs, personalities). Do they have any siblings? What is their relationship with their family?

Ayano’s mother, Kyoko (japanese) was dead while Ayano was very young. Her real father is unknown besides the fact that he was a ‘korean bastard’ from her stepfather. She despises her step father (the feeling’s mutual) and ran away from home at age 13. Ayano has an older (3-4) brother. At age 20, they reconnected and have a good, stable relationship.

15 • How many language do they speak? Which ones?

Ayano can read/speak: Japanese, English, Korean, Latin, Spanish, and French

16 • What is their relationship with each brothers?

Lucifer - fondness, cautious, interest - mixed feelings. Ayano isn’t fond of some of his methods, but recognizes his change throughout the program. She thinks he cares a lot for his brothers and respects that. Lucifer is glad that Ayano is well-mannered and courteous, but is suspicious on her relations to Solomon. Although she’ll never admit it, sometimes Ayano goes into his study with tea and a light dessert for him.

Mammon - Affectionate, loving, warmth, protectiveness. Ayano thinks Mammon as someone very dear to her, so she is protective of him. He’s a possible love interest, and Ayano likes teasing and flirting when he shows his Tsundere side. Mammon thinks that she’s his lucky charm, and loves bringing her to the casino with him, to show off, and to brag. He always becomes flustered when she teases him, but revels in it.

Levi - Ayano thinks Levi should have more confidence, and is gentle with him. Playing rpg or strategy games with him is a pastime of Ayano’s, Levi is slightly scared of her skills in that aspect. Since Ayano can also mimic voices well, he begs her to make Ruri-chan impersonations and such. 

Asmo - Fun, flirty, and thrilling. At first, Ayano thought he was a narcissistic, vain bastard. Which is partially true tbh. When she started doing various makeup looks, that’s when Asmo started to bond with her. The two love messing with various skincare, haircare, makeup, and fashion items. On Fridays, they have a self-care night, with Mammon occasionally bursting in. 

Satan- Was suspicious of him, noticing his mask and seeing through it right away. After noting that he is lost inside, she warms up to him and bonds with him over her cat, Luci, tea, and their shared love of crime novels. Satan was also suspicious of her at the beginning, but after she warmed up to them and slowly started revealing herself, they gradually started drifting closer. They can sometimes be seen reading together with tea and biscuits. 

Bee l- Ayano absolutely adores Beel. She thinks of him as a giant teddy bear and knew he was genuine from the start. Ayano stress-bakes and experiments with recipes from time to time, and asks Beel to taste test them. Beel was glad she apologized and started warming up to her after the custard incident. He loves her baking, and is fond of her, as they take a jog/work out together sometimes.

Belphie - Complicated. She doesn’t care for Belphie. Yes, she wanted to free him, only because she hates feeling trapped as well and disliked Lucifer’s choice of punishment. The fact he changed so quickly after finding out about Lilith made her dislike him even more. However for the boys’ sake, she is cordial to him. Belphie just *wants her to like him dammit*

17 • What is their relationship with each side characters?

Diavolo-  Ayano likes Diavolo, not only is he a powerful ruler, he is a right and just one as well. Sometimes, if he asks, she’ll sing human world songs to him during tea with Barbatos. Ayano thinks of him as a kind man with *so many goddam secrets hidden inside.* Diavolo likes that Ayano entertains him on the human world, and is well-mannered and playful. He’s very interested on trying various exotic human world recipes as well.

Luke- She thinks of Luke as a chihuahua, or a little kid. Harmless and adorable. Ayano likes teasing Luke and baking sweets with him. He thinks of her as an older sister, and loves having her attention.

Solomon - During her time in the mafia, around age 20, she went and stopped by an under-hyped bar. She was really pissed that day, as one of her subordinates almost had everyone killed. So, she decided to buy some whiskey and find a hookup to relieve stress. After flirting and chatting with Solomon for an hour or so, they went back to her place.....In the morning, she woke up a bit early, slightly nauseous, but mostly ok. Solomon was still asleep at the time. After preparing some korean hangover soup, she went back to her room, only to find a signed note and Solomon's number. Ayano and Solomon are pretty much friends with benefits. They’re playful and mischievous, and sometimes stop by each other’s rooms at night for-...Anyways, Ayano has taken for Solomon and would do it again. Solomon thinks Ayano as an admirable person and interesting, so he sticks by her. You can see them at a casino, getting drinks, and watching Ayano’s insane luck wins her her hundreds of thousand at the end of the night.

Simeon- Ayano doesn’t trust Simeon, as he doesn’t really seem like an angel and is shady. After the play and seeing him being ruthless, she distances herself even more from him. Simeon wishes she would be closer with him, but is glad that Luke bonds with her.

Barbatos- You cannot convince her otherwise that Barbatos is not Sebastian Michaelis’ twin Oftentimes, she will help him around the kitchen or garden,, enjoying his company. Barbatos is glad that Ayano can help out, but keeps an eye on her due to her past. Very relieved she has good manners in public though. They both teach Luke to bake sweets, and are protective over him.

18 • What is your MC’s main hobbies and passions?

Hobbies: Reading, throwing knives, composing/listening/singing music, baking, food tasting, playing with cats, drinking wine, sketching/painting, gambling, and gardening. She is obsessed with Cerberus, and loves taking him for walks.

19 • Why do they ended up in Devildom in the first place? What happened to them?

Ayano made a deal with a business man (Barbatos) to go to Siberia for a year in order to make a demonology/mythology film, she was supposed to travel to Siberia when she fell asleep on the plane, to wake up in RAD. This isn’t too weird from what she’s experienced before, so she thought it would be an interesting and worthwhile experience. After all, she can’t really fight back against demons, so acceptance is the only option.

20 • What is your MC’s MBTI type?

Unknown. Ayano is more of a quiet extrovert. A great people person, but seems a tad cool and aloof at first. She’s very polite and all, but never let’s people in due to trust issues. Very perceptive and emotionally intelligent. Ayano was able to pick up on the boys’ true colors within a short time span. Is very intelligent and can offer worthwhile theories and conversations. To the people she loves, she is most like a lazy cat, affectionate, playful, and teasing. 

21 • Do they have pact with each bro? Do they often use their pacts? In which situations?

Has pacts with all the brothers except for Belphegor. She cares for the brothers, and refuses to use the pacts in any way, shape, or form.

22 • What is their favorite place in Devildom?

Madam Screams, the royal library, the roof of the HoL, or the beach Diavolo made.

23 • Which sin fit them the most?

Wrath, she’s very much like Satan

24 • Describe their personality.

Constantly tries to analyze a person's every move. Keeps a polite mask on. She tries her best to stay calm in most situations and to find a way out. However, she is incredibly sadistic to people who have wronged her, preferring to use psychological torture. Often uses dark humor and keeps a knowing smile on her face. Tries to find a logical solution to every problem and is melodramatic around the people she cares about. She will tease you to oblivion and is a very playful character when you get to know her. Much like a cat, she is affectionate and likes to play around, sometimes flirtatious.  She’s a total sweetheart when you get to truly know her though. Ayano however, is also very reasonable and knows when she's fucked up. For example, when Beel freaked out over the custard. She ordered 20 cups of custard from Madam Scream's that night for the next day. Ayano then presented it to him the next afternoon, offering her sincerest apologies. When she trusts someone, they have her absolute loyalty. She will guard their lives with hers and would take a bullet for them If they break her trust tho, they're pretty much dead to her and even though she is polite to them, they will never be close with her again. When she falls for someone, she falls hard. Loyalty is of upmost importance to Ayano.

25 • What is their moral alignment?

Chaotic Neutral. Ayano doesn’t really follow the law, but has a clear set of morals and a bottom line.

26 • Does your MC possess an object/something especially dear to their heart?

A silver necklace from her mentor, with a silver ring that belonged to her mother hanging from it.

27 • Which character(s) do they consider as their best friend(s)?

Solomon, Satan, and Mammon.

28 • Choose a song that fits your MC.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H4eaMfUtynM&list=RDMM&index=29

Dirty by Grandson

29 • What are your MC’s religious beliefs?

Agnostic, she thought something was out there. Hell though, was a surprise.

30 • Describe what is inside your MC’s school bag.

Books, sketchpad, pencils, pens, textbooks, compact mirror, and a switchblade - just in case

31 • Describe their appearance (pic refs are ofc allowed).

Snow-pale skin. She has jet black, waist length slightly wavy hair in a side part, heterachromatic eyes - left green right purple. Wears a green contact over the purple in public. 5’6 or 168 cm tall. medium bust and hourglass figure with multiple miscellaneous scars on her legs and arms (7-8) from bullet/stab wounds. 2 prominent stab wounds on her lower back. 5'8. 

22 • What is your MC’s greatest fear?

Losing another person she cares about, surprisingly enough, she gets attached faster than one would think.

33 • Is your MC Lilith’s descendant? If yes, how did they react when they learn about it?

Yes, tbh Ayano wasn’t surprised. If Lilith lived that long ago, than ⅓ of the population are her descendants. What makes her so special?

34 • Do they have a pet/animal? 

Yes, a calico cat with blue eyes named Luci, 4 years old.

35 • What are their grades like? (In Devildom)

Top 5 students in class. Usually second or third to Satan and Lucifer. Ayano absorbs knowledge pretty easily, and can also read a book fast. Is also a very helpful tutor. Describes and explains material in a brief manner.

36 • Do you think they have any other friends in Devildom aside the characters game? Or do they just stay with them?

Her mentor Cleo turned out to be a witch! So sleepovers, spa days, and movie binges with each other are a must! Also, Mephistopheles is a drinking partner from time to time. Don’t forget Solomon, who Ayano goes to for....stress relief.

37 • What is their favourite food? 

Takoyaki, basically fried dough with octopus tentacles. Or Korean BBQ. Is obsessed with sweet and sour combos

38 • Do they have any specific talent? (artistic, random fact, etc)

She’s an artistic person, knowing what angles to take pics and lovesss sketching the boys. Baking is a stress thing, reading with tea is a pastime of hers. Likes trying out different nail art every week or so. Gardening or tending to plants is a must.

39 • Who is the person they rely on when not feeling well?

Cleo, she’s been Ayano’s mentor since age 13. The only one who knows her full, true self. A girl’s day out will ensue, or a girl’s day in, depending on what Ayano wants.

40 • How did they decorate their bedroom in the House of Lamentations? I mean, the game’s MC bedroom is cool but we all know it need customisation. If your MC does not live with the bros, just describe their bedroom.

She completely redecorated the room with Cleo’s help. Absolutely hated the OG design.

Ayano’s Human world flat : https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/301-E-61st-St-19A-New-York-NY-10065/300195837_zpid/ 

41 • Are they a heavy or light sleeper? How many hours of sleep do they get? Do they have insomnia or do they fall asleep easily? Just describe your MC's sleep habits.

Ayano’s a light sleeper, because in the mafia, she had to be up at any given moment. Usually 6 hours of sleep. She has insomnia, and sleeps at like 12 am or 1 pm. Usually wakes up at 6am, every day. Can sleep at any given moment though. She’s a female Lucifer in that sense

42 • What is your MC's Devilgram username?

@Silver_Aya

43 • Does your MC have a part-time job during the exchange? If yes, where in Devildom?

Yes. Well not really, does investing in stocks and gambling count? By the end of week 2 in the Devildom, she has 10 million grimm in her account.

44 • How do they deal with the exchange program at first? Do they adapt easily in Devildom? Was it hard for them to be far away from the human world? Were they excited of in panic?

Ayano just went with the flow. It’s a whole new realm, how could she not be excited? Asks Cleo to show her around. It takes a week or two to fully adapt to the Devildom. She missed her cat, but luckily Cleo told her she was taking care of Luci at her human world flat. Kinda hated the fact that the HoL was full of 7 guys, but is in close contact with Cleo. The first night, she asked to go to a casino with Mammon and went from 250,000 grimm, to 1,000,000 grimm on her card.

45 • Do your MC’s relatives/friends know they are in Devildom? How do they deal with their absence? Tbh I’m just wondering what is happening during the exchange program since in the game, MC didn’t really choose to be there.

Well, everyone knew Ayano would be gone for a year, so they carried on fine. Her brother missed her expertise, but knew she’d be fine. Cleo brings her bills and contracts to finish up in the human world, and has hired a cleaner to come in once a month.

46 • How do they feel when they have to leave Devildom for the first time after their first one year exchange? Did they just return to the occupation they had before the exchange program? Did this experience change them? (Sorry these questions are more for human MC)

Ayano misses everyone terribly, and calls and texts everyone once or twice every week to update. She keeps in contact with Solomon to continue her magic lessons. Ayano just goes back to Japan like everything’s normal. Diavolo had a movie made during her time in the Devildom on some random mythology, which turned out to be a box office sensation. Everything is pretty much the same.

47 • Describe your MC’s D.D.D: phone case, wallpaper…

A neutral toned, light phone case with lotus flowers and lily pads. Her lock screen is a white/cream rose. Ayano’s wallpaper is her posing with Luci, her calico cat with blue eyes. Ayano’s kissing Luci’s nose in the picture. Her lock screen is a

48 • How do they react to praise? How do they react to criticism?

Says “thank you” or some variation of that from a stranger. If it’s an acquaintance, same. If it’s a friend, a thank you and a genuine smile. A close friend, a hug and thanks with a compliment thrown back. A lover, kisses and cuddles. Cleo, ‘awww, so sweet from someone so deadly’. 

To strangers: shoots the criticism back in twice the snippiness if they’re being rude. If it’s constructive criticism, she’ll respect that. Acquaintances, again, same as above. Friends:depends if it’s in a teasing manner. If so, she’ll tease back, if it’s rude and uncalled for, she’ll tell them. Close friends: will be fine with teasing and will tease back. Will accept actual criticism if it’s constructive, will ask why they said so if it’s rude. Lover: WIll TEASE BACK WITH TICKLES. If it’s an actual criticism, she’ll take that into account and embrace it. Cleo: will jab back with an embarrassing story. If it’s real, will change if it’s reasonable

49 • What is their future goal? (it could be their actual goal [dont forget the tw spoiler], their dream job, any other wish they want for the future)

To have a happy family, in a nice home. Also to make others happy and inspire them. She already has her dream job, so a S/O would be perfect for Ayano to balance her out.

50 • Describe their perfume/scent.

Her perfume smells like spices, nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, and vanilla in particular. Her shampoo/conditioner, and body wash give her hints of oat milk and ginger, coffee and coconut. Cleo and Satan would say she smells like a cafe.

51 • Did they ever commit a crime or have been arrested?

Yes, she’s been in the mafia, meaning she’s killed, stolen, and broken into houses.

52 • (A bit TW??) Do they smoke? Do they drink?

An occasional Mexican cigar. She likes wine and whiskey in particular. Doesn’t get drunk too often. At most she gets tipsy.

53 • Do they play a musical instrument?

Piano, violin, guitar, and bass

54 • How do they see themselves? How do they want to be seen by others?

Ayano sees herself as a horrible person. Being in the mafia, she’s done and seen horrifying things. She wishes to one day be able to see redemption in herself, that’s why she donates to charity and volunteers often. She wants to be seen as approachable and kind to others, albeit one not to mess with. Ayano dreams to be an inspiration for young children, showing that you can come up from nothing. 

55 • What was your MC like as a child? Did they have a happy childhood?

Ayano grew up in an abusive household. Her father blamed her for her mother’s death, when in reality, he shot her while drunk and blamed Ayano as a coping method. Her brother was kept away from her, so he barely knew her. Ayano didn’t even know he remembered her at all. When she ran away at 13, she lived on the streets for some time, stealing food and clothing. Sometimes a kind person would give her some money or food, but most walked by or looked at her in disgust. One day, she managed to steal a silver necklace from her future mentor, Cleo. Cleo was a mafia boss’ daughter, and was impressed that Ayano could steal from her at all. After begging and persuasion, her father let Ayano join the mafia as her apprentice.

56 • Would they prefer to live forever in Devildom or come back/live in the human world?

Ayano would most likely try and find a way to become immortal, in order to live in the Devildom. The brothers and undateables are her family pretty much. She’d ask Cleo if Luci can be brought down and made immortal as well.

57 • Did they ever get the chance to visit the Celestial realm? If so, what do they think about it? Did they meet Michael? (Ofc it’s your personal hc since Michael never appeared in the game)

Yes, after much begging and pleading from Luke, Simeon reluctantly agreed to let her into the Celestial Realm. She loves the food ofc, especially the fruit. She never met Michael because he was “on a business trip.”

58 • Do the pact marks appear on their skin? If yes, where are they? What do they look like?

Yes, they appear on her skin, only when she uses her pact though, as Solomon told her. They have not been seen as of now….

59 • What is your MC’s favorite music genre? Do they have any favorite band/singer? Favorite song?

Ayano likes to listen to classical, indie rock, rap, and some pop. She’s fond of Frank Sinatra, James Arthur, and NF. There are like 20 songs Ayano would consider her ‘favorite’

60 • Choose 4 pics that fit your MC’s aesthetic. (I chose 6 bc why not?)

#ayano miasako #ayano #cleo #obey me #headcanons #questionnaire #aesthetic

[torterragarden]

OKAY so I finished A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes last night and I have some thoughts - some good, some bad, a lot of why - and I’m gonna put as many of them as I can gather in one post. Obvious spoiler warning

All right so let’s get one thing out of the way. I know what a lot of people were apprehensive about this book being about a young President Snow. I wasn’t. I always knew going into this book that no matter what Coriolanus Snow was like as an eighteen year old, there was no fucking way you were going to make me like him hhhgfkshj I mean how could I, when I’m thinking about Snow from the original trilogy the entire time? But that also wasn’t a deterrent for me, because while I don’t like him as a person for obvious reason, I don’t dislike him as a character. I thought he was a good villain in the original trilogy, he was effectively creepy and threatening. Even if I don’t exactly like Snow, I don’t think he’s uninteresting, so I was okay with reading a book about him. I do love a good villain origin story anyway

The draw of this book wasn’t really Snow’s backstory, tho. I mean, the draw was that it was a THG prequel, and I love THG, but aside from that what interested me was the idea of seeing the earlier days of post-war Panem. I remember when I was hyperfixated on THG, one thing that I was curious about was what the first years of the Hunger Games were like. Kind of a weird thing to be interested in I guess, but I wondered what they were like before the Capitol’s technology had developed as much as it had by the 74th Games. I wondered what kind of clumsy mishaps had happened in the first few years, while they were still figuring out how they would work. I wondered how both the districts and the Capitol would have felt about them with the war still so fresh in their minds. Welp. Got my answers I guess

I did find this insight into the war and the Games interesting, if not really needed. What I found really fascinating was how different these Games were from the 74th, and both are equally horrifying. Part of what made the 74th Games so disturbing, aside from the obvious, was what a spectacle the whole thing was. The tributes being dressed in pretty costumes and paraded around the city, the betting and sponsorships, the interviews where tributes need to be charming, all this pomp and celebration for an event where children are forced to fight to the death. And yet the 10th Games and the ones before it were no spectacle at all, really. It’s all so uncerimonious, the kids are thrown into an old amphitheater with weapons and that’s that, hardly anyone even watches, it’s just a thing that happens and most people tune it out but in the end 23 kids are still dead. The ceremony and celebration of later Games is disgusting, but the cavalier and cold handling of the early Games is cruel and disturbing in a different way

Suzanne Collins is not a subtle author. This hasn’t changed

The Capitol kids are spoiled and entitled and lacking in compassion but they’ve also lived through a war and are still dealing with that and that is kind of cool to see. Some of them are very vindictive toward the districts, seeing the Games as a deserving punishment for what they went through because of the rebels, others have just enough empathy and awareness to think “hey, these Games are pretty messed up”, but not enough empathy and awareness to like, want them to stop really. The Capitol experimenting with their own children being mentors is an interesting concept, and I liked that some of the Capitol kids got genuinely attached to their tributes, not just to fuel their own ambitions but as people. Most notable in Lysistrata and... Snow, but we’ll get to that

By the 74th Games everything is so dressed up in spectacle that  the average Capitol citizen doesn’t even seem completely aware these are real kids that are dying. They’re basically toys to them. The 10th Games are far from reaching that point, and the average Capitol citizen sees them as distasteful and unpleasant, but a necessary evil. I enjoyed seeing the seeds planted for what the Games would eventually become

Sejanus! Easily my favorite character in this book, which is not saying much because no one in this book is nearly as interesting as the characters from THG. But! I do like Sejanus. A kid from the districts moving to the Capitol, forced to be part of the Games as a mentor while his sympathies still lie very much with the districts and the rebels, (sort of) befriending Snow, it makes for a good character. By the halfway point in the book, earlier than that even if we’re being honest, I was really just reading because I cared about Sejanus

Lysistrata is cool too. I like her. 

Clemensia seemed like she was gonna get a cool subplot of sorts and then it was just kind of dropped?

I really don’t care about Snow in this book. There’s no real reason to care about anything that happens to him. He’s not even fun to hate or anything, he’s self-serving and entitled but it’s not in a way that inspires particular loathing. He’s just utterly unengaging. Of all the bad things I can say about Snow, I shouldn’t be able to say he’s boring

Lucy Gray. I wanted to like her. I guess I did, but her only purpose is as Snow’s love interest and I was so not on board with that. I don’t particularly want to read about Snow being in love in the first place, but I definitely don’t want to read about him being in love with a girl from the districts. A girl that he’s mentoring in the Games. A girl that he is using for his own ends, whatever feelings he develops for her later. It’s completely unbelievable that these two would fall for each other. I have no idea why they’re together! No idea why they care for each other! It’s forced and awkward and just plain not written well! I remember in the early days of the fandom, people sometimes said that Peeta’s love for Katniss felt poorly developed too, because what reason did he have to love her aside from her singing voice? But I don’t know, Peeta’s characterization shows him as very idealistic and romantic at heart, so it didn’t seem unfitting that he would be a bit... dramatic about his feelings for Katniss at first, and as we saw their relationship develop over the series it felt more natural. Snow is not Peeta. Snow is calculating and ambitious and unconcerned with people around him and does not seem like someone who would fall head over heels for a girl like Lucy Gray in a matter of days. And on Lucy Gray’s side, what does she like about Snow? He gives her food, he helps her through the Games, he’s handsome, but shouldn’t she be distrustful of anyone from the Capitol? Again, I’m not buying that she would believe his helping her would be for anyone’s benefit but his own. The power imbalance combined with just how unbelievable the whole thing is made the romance incredibly unpleasant to read

The only time I felt interested in the two at all was the last 20 pages. That was a genuinely exciting scene, their own private Hunger Games as Snow calls it. But the impact was lessened by the fact that I never bought into their relationship in the first place, and I think that was the point? Maybe? Snow definitely gets over his infatuation for her fast so I guess it was, but it just... none of it was developed or paced well so the whole thing feels jarring and weird

Why did it take until the last 20 pages of the book for me to understand the Point of it? The biggest issue with this book is how boring it is. It’s 500 pages long and it could have been a lot shorter, it’s meandering and slow and there’s no sense of plot or urgency, no sense of emotion. The whole time reading I kept thinking “what is the point?” and then I got to the end and I realized, okay, the point is that Snow values power and success more than he values goodness and love. So? I knew that, and if you’re going to make the point something I already knew you could at least try to make it interesting. Getting through this was a chore most of the time

I don’t feel like Snow needed a love interest in this book. I think this entire book could have worked fine without a romance between him and Lucy Gray. He already has more than enough motivation to want her to win, and his relationship with her isn’t the (relatively) interesting or impactful part of this book. His relationship with Sejanus is. Which is not to say I think they should have been together lol, imagine making President Snow gay, yikes. But like, Sejanus serves as his foil throughout the whole book, the few scenes that do stand out are mostly between the two of them, their relationship is developed in a far more believable way than the romance with Lucy Gray is. Sejanus could have been the one who made Coriolanus realize “fuck trying to be good and fuck the districts, power and success is all I care about”, and that would have been fine! At least Sejanus and Coriolanus are vaguely compelling together!

There are a lot of references to THG in this, of course, and a lot of them felt very... why. Not necessarily bad I guess just. Why? Did we need an origin for the hanging tree song? Did we need Lucy Gray to also sing Rue’s lullaby? Did we need to make such a point of Coriolanus hating mockingjays, did we need to be reminded that katniss plants are a thing? It all comes off as a bit... desperate, I guess? Because there’s really no point to all of these references except to remind us of the far superior original trilogy. And I guess they don’t need to have a point, but shouldn’t they? These are such obvious references, shouldn’t they do something? And if the point was to give Snow more connections to Katniss, then why do that? We already know why Katniss was a threat to him, it didn’t need to be made more personal than that. It doesn’t even matter! None of it matters!

I’m not leaving this book with a better understanding of Snow. This book didn’t even tell me anything interesting about his rise to power. It was just a lot of nothing

I don’t hate this book, and I’ve read a lot worse than it. But the feeling it leaves me with is “what’s the point”. What was the point in reading this? Even the few bits that I did like ultimately feel like. I didn’t really need this, and it wasn’t worth pushing through 500 pages of this. I like Sejanus and Lysistrata and maybe a few other characters, but they don’t leave an impression the way the characters in the original trilogy did. I’ll forget them pretty fast. I’ll forget this entire book pretty fast, and the only plus side is that it at least wasn’t bad enough to actively ruin THG for me. The original trilogy is still one of my all-time favorites and I can easily forget this book is part of the same universe

I can easily forget this book, and that’s a damning criticism for a book I had such high hopes for

#sage speaks #a ballad of songbirds and snakes #spoilers

[fantasyandromancelover]

The Tale of Tales Chapter 46

The next day Jellal and his pack left for the mountains while Lucy, Erza, and the fairies and dwarfs decided to go look for Natsu. They suspected that Minerva was involved with that chimera and since Juvia was her prime target they insisted that she stay behind at the cottage with Elfman looking after her.

"Elfman you pig!" She scolded. "You ate all of my buns! I was going to serve them tonight with dinner."

"Sorry." He said in a voice that sounded like an innocent child.

"Well thanks to you I'll have to make more from scratch." She went to open the cupboard. "Oh dear I'm out of flour."

"I can go to the village and buy you so more."

"Really?"

"It's the least I could do since I ate all the buns."

"Thank you Elfman."

"You're welcome and by the way you're a great cook. I haven't eaten food that good since my sister's cooking."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

"I had two sisters. When we were kids, my parents were always working in the fields so my oldest sister Mirajane would cook breakfast and lunch for me and my younger sister Lisanna. She would also get us dressed, comb our hair, make sure we got all our chores done, and she home schooled us since we couldn't afford to go to school."

"She sounds like a second mother."

"She was."

"What happened to her and your other sister?"

Elfman stiffened before answering.

"When we were still kids something terrible happened... Something that resulted in our parents getting killed and Mirajane running away. Lisanna and I had to take care of each other after that and when we became adults we split up and decided to look for her. We meet up every few weeks to talk about how things have been going and if we've found her yet. So far we've found no trace of her."

"I'm so sorry. Why did your sister run away?"

"I'd rather not talk about it. Let's just say she blames herself for what happened to our parents and she thought that we would hate her for it. But that's not true at all and if we find her the first thing we're going to do is tell her that it wasn't her fault and that we love her and miss her."

"I hope you find her."

"Not nearly as much as Lisanna and I hope. But I don't want to talk about anymore sad things today. I...I think I'll go get that flour now."

"Alright."

"Do you want to come with me?"

"I would but there's so much I have to do. Sweep the floors, do the laundry, wash the dishes, dust the furniture."

"Okay then but while I'm gone don't let anyone in the house and don't take anything from anyone."

"I won't."

"I'm going to lock the door so you should be safe as long as you don't let anybody in."

"Don't worry I'll be careful."

Elfman then pulled out the house key and locked the door. He then started to make his way to the Magnolia village. He was halfway there when he ran into an old peddler woman. She was dressed in raggedy, old clothing and looked like that she had one foot in the grave. In her hand she carried a basket that was filled with laces, ribbons, combs, and other pretty things that young women wore.

"Excuse me ma'am." He said after bumping into her.

"It's quite alright young man." She said. "Pardon me good sir but I've been walking for sometime and I'm so tired. Do you have a house nearby where I could stop and rest?"

"I do but I can't allow you to stay in my house."

"But it would only be for a moment."

"I understand that but you see there's someone alone at my house and I don't want anything to happen to them."

"But I'm just a poor old farmer's wife. I'd never hurt anyone."

"I can see that you're not that much of a threat but I can't take that risk, besides the door is locked and she wouldn't let you in. I told her not to let any strangers in the house but I'm on my way to the Magnolia village, why don't I escort you to a nearby inn? I'll pay for your room."

"Well aren't you a sweet boy." The old woman then snatched the key off of Elfman's belt and before he could stop her she raised her hand up, pointed her finger at him, and turned him to stone. "But I think I would prefer to stay in a cozy little cottage instead of some inn. Thank you for the keys."

Then the old woman then hobbled down the trail where the cottage was. Juvia was in the middle of sweeping the floors when she heard a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Juvia called without opening the door.

"I'm an old farmer's wife who's been walking for miles and my feet are so sore. May I come in and rest?" A voice croned on the other side.

"I know this must sound very cruel of me but I've been instructed not to let anyone in. I'm sorry."

Just then she heard the sound of the lock clicking and the door was opened by the old woman. Juvia was startled by her hideout appearance.

"Forgive me for startling you my dear." She said.

"I told you that I'm not supposed to let anyone in."

"Well you didn't did you? I let myself in. You see I ran into your little friend earlier and he said that I could rest here if I wanted to, he even gave me the key."

Seeing the key in her bony, wrinkled, old hand, Juvia thought that if Elfman gave this woman permission to rest in their house then there was no harm in letting her inside.

"Alright then come inside and sit down, I'll get you some water."

The crone sat in a chair while Juvia fixed her cup of cold water and served it to her.

"Thank you my pet." She said before taking a few sips from her cup. "I do apologise for just barging in but my poor old feet hurt so much from walking, if I didn't sit down soon I was sure that I would collapse."

"No I should be the one apologizing. It was awful of me to not let you in. I'm sorry."

"That's quite alright, one must always be wary of strangers. Even old ones such as myself."

"Still how much harm could you do?"

"More than you suspect dearie." She mumbled to herself quietly.

"So what brings you to the forest?"

"Oh my husband has been having terrible luck with our farm so I thought that I could help him out by selling pretty things. Would you like to buy something? A pretty little ornament to wear on your dress perhaps? I have lovely belts, dainty laces, and pretty ribbons. Or maybe you would prefer to wear a comb in your beautiful hair. I have ivory combs, silver combs, and golden combs. Take a look."

The old lady opened her basket, allowing Juvia to see all the pretty wears and combs inside.

"Oh they're all beautiful but I'm afraid I don't have any money. I gave all of it to my friend."

"What a pity but since you're such a beautiful and sweet girl I'm going to give you a nice little present."

She then pulled an apple from the basket. It was the most unusual apple that Juvia had ever seen. Half of it was snow white and the other half of it was blood red. It was a pretty apple and it looked extremely ripe too.

"My it looks wonderful." She said.

"It's the prize of our crops." The old peddler woman said.

"Then maybe I shouldn't take it. After all you said that you weren't having much luck on your farm."

"Oh believe me my dear there's plenty more where that came from. Besides I wouldn't feel right about accepting your kindness without giving you some kind of reward."

"I thank you for your generous offer but I can't accept anything from anyone. I was told not to."

"But what harm is there in a little apple? But here, why don't we share it." She took out a knife and cut the apple into. She handed the red half to Juvia and bit into the white half. "Mmmm... It's delicious. Go on give it a taste."

Seeing that nothing happened to the old woman Juvia took a bite of the red half of the apple. That little bite had just passed through her lips when suddenly she found herself unable to breathe. She felt cold and dizzy, her hand went to her throat, she started coughing and gasping for breath. The old hag grinned wickedly as she watched Juvia struggle in vain to breathe. At last she fell to the floor, her eyes closed, and she breathed her last breath. The hag cackled in her wretched voice before transforming back into the beautiful Minerva.

"Blue as rain, blush as rose, and white as snow." She laughed. "You are dead at last and fair no more!"

Back at her dudgeon Gray suddenly felt a horrible pain inside of his heart.

"Ahhh!" He shouted clutching his chest.

"What's wrong with you?" Natsu asked him.

"I...I don't know." He said. He heard the sound of Minerva laughing and saw a vision of Juvia choking for air before falling down dead.

"Oh no...Oh no...No. No, no, no, no, no! No! No! No!" He kept shouting in horror.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Natsu asked him again in confusion.

Gray didn't respond he only started punching the bars of the cell door and trying to pry them open like mad.

"You witch!" He shouted. "What did you do to her?! What did you do?!"

#fairy tail #fairy tail au #brothers grimm #snow white #juvia loxar #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #fanfiction #fanfic #gruvia fairy tail #gray x juvia #gruvia

[timelessshipperdaily]

Timeless: The Miracle of Christmas (Reaction & Thoughts) Part 3

A cargo ship only supposed to carry 60 carries 14000!?!?!?

No causalities and 5 babies born!!! TRULY THE MIRACLE OF CHRISTMAS!!!

"Because she is the ultimate Grinch?.." - Rufus

" Well, we don't want Communist troops dashing through the snow to find us." - Rufus

What would we do without our cinnamon rolls humor!?!?

"Bloody Hell." - Mason

OMG!!! BLOODY HELL IS RIGHT!!!!

OUR TIMETEAM CANNOT DIE!!!!

"They're going to die there." - AC

SHOUT-OUT TO THE HELICLOCKTERS!!!!

DON'T GET IN THAT HELICOPTER!!!! I REPEAT DO NOT GET IN THAT HELICOPTER!!!!

LUCY IS SO CONCERNED!!!! I AM SO SOFT FOR THESE BEAUTIFUL MOMENTS!!!

JIYA IS SO STRONG!!! I LOVE IT!!!!

Awww Jiya's friend Molly died of the Bubonic plague.

"This is officially the worst Christmas vacation ever and that includes the Chevy Chase movie" - Rufus

I AM SUCH A FAN ON CHRISTMAS VACATION!!! YASSS

Ok Agent Christopher and Mason NEED to stop bickering and SAVE OUR TIMETEAM!!!

INTREPID TEAM INDEED!!!

"And I'm sure Emma would be delighted to help us if she wasn't the one trying to bloody kill us all!!!" - Mason

I LOVE MASON!!!!

"Are you guys gonna get back together or what? 'Cause I'm totally shipping team Lyatt." - Rufus

SAME RUFUS. SAME

It is SO CUTE that Lucy has no idea who han and Leia, Arwen and Aragorn, or even Edward and Bella are!!!

" When you were kidnapped by your mother, We thought you were dead. We all lost hope. Except for the Wyatt. He never gave up on you. He always swore you were out there. He tried to blow torches way out of the bunker to find you. I know there was a Jessica, but he was willing to give her up to find me. And I'll tell you, the guy likes me, but if he had to give you up, I know for a fact I'd still be dead... that doesn't sound like a second choice to me." - Rufus

THANK YOU RUFUS!!!

FINALLY LUCY FINDS OUT WHAT WYATT DID WHILE SHE WAS MISSING!!!!!

Ok wow.... COMMUNIST ARE THE WORST!!!

"Otherwise, Commeys get a time machine. Which incdently is my least favorite Christmas movie." - Rufus

Jeez Wyatt.... THAT'S NOT COMFORTING AT ALL!!!! ESPECIALLY SINCE I HAVE SEEN THE PICTURES OF THEM... DEAD!!!!

"I'm not sure dead is a forever thing with us." - Rufus

Ummm... question. Is this a shout-out to this show!?!?!?

"Because you're starting to get frostbite and you look much prettier with the ears." - Wyatt

WYATT LOGAN JUST CALLED LUCY PRESTON PRETTY!!!! ALSO. Even if Lucy lost her ears. I know he would spend EVERY DAY telling her how beautiful she is!!!

Poor Young-Hee!!!! She CAN'T STAY THERE!!!!

I love how Rufus is STILL thrown by the fact Jessica was alive!!!!

"You know what's crazy. Yesterday, Jiya was a year younger than me. Now she's 2 years older. She looks pretty good for her age. Plus I always had a thing for older women. Started in middle school actually..." - Rufus

RUFUS KILLS ME!!!!!

Awwwww Wyatt....

"Cause I would be lying to you if I didn't." - Wyatt

I LOVE WYATT SO MUCH!!!!

IT'S ALIVE!!!! THE TRUCK'S ALIVE!!!!!

"Hey Wyatt..."

AWWWWW.... I'M NOT CRYING YOUR CRYING!!!!!!

"Everybody's important." - Lucy

"What's the point of saving history if we don't save the people in it?" - Lucy

**gulp**

YESSSS WE ARE GONNA REUNITE YOUNG-HEE WITH HER FAMILY!!!!

FLOOR IT WYATT!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH

St. Christopher!!!!! The saint of traveler's!!!!!

EMMA I HATE YOU!!!! But I also kind of love her..... WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME!?!?!?

OMG IT'S GONNA BE AGENT CHR...... WHAT!?!? BENJAMIN CAHILL!?!?!?

SURPRISE RITTENBITCH!!!!

"Just give me a reason, Emma." - Agent Christopher

He wants to save Lucy!!!! And protect his family. Ok Benjamin is reminding me a lot of Raymond Reddington.... anyone else???

"...something you'll never have or understand." - Benjamin Cahill

OH MY GOD!!!! BENJAMIN JUST DELIVERED A SCEARING BURN!!!!

And now I'm cheering Benjamin Cahill on.... WHAT THE HELL!?!?!?

Young- Hee TEACHES HISTORY TOO!?!?! THE PARALLELS!!!!!

OMG!!!! SHE IS GONNA HAVE THIS BABY RIGHT NOW ISN'T SHE!?!?!?

Oh come on.... of course the car stops....

Yup CALLED IT!!!! THE BABY IS COMING!!!!

Oh myyyyyy Gooooooddddddd.... Wyatt has DELIVERED A BABY!?!?!? I AM SO TURNED ON RIGHT NOW!!!!

NOOOOOO WYATT!!!!! JIYA!!!!!!!

OMG.... LUCY IS SO DISTRAUGHT!!!!

"WYATT!!!!" - Lucy

Screaming his name. Choked sobs. Bending over. She is in SO MUCH PAIN!!!!

#wyatt logan #lucy preston #wyatt and lucy #wucy #timeless #matt lanter #lyatt #rufus carlin #abigail spencer #wyatt x lucy #malcolm barrett #nbc timeless #nbc #season 2 #garcia flynn #lucy loves wyatt #goran visnjic #lucy and wyatt #agent christopher #connor mason #annie wersching #emma whitmore #jiya marri #paterson joseph #sakina jaffrey #riya

[bookaddict24-7]

FIRST CHAPTER CHALLENGE!

Last week was a black hole for me. I was wrapped up in reading romance novels and though I have close to zero regrets about that week, one of the few regrets I do have was not doing the First Chapter Challenge. 

When it comes to the decisions made for the books this week, I’ve taken into consideration the fact that I didn’t feel exactly excited to read the books for this week, and the fact that a couple of these books have been on my shelves for a long time. 

Also, I received a lot of new ARCs in March that will also go through the First Chapter Challenge if I don’t read them before their release dates!

Please let me know if you’re doing the challenge, too! I love reading about your experiences!

A gentle reminder: Just because I’ve unhauled the books in this post and in future posts, it doesn’t mean that they’re books not worth reading. They’re just not right for me. This is more of an incentive for me to free up space and give these books better homes than my basement.

Also, there might be some spoilers. If you’re interested in reading these books, tread with care.

Read my original post and how I’m going about this challenge here.

Have any of you practiced this challenge this past week?

The Last Place on Earth by Carol Snow 

Decision: Unhauled

I will confess that when I’m not looking forward to even reading the first chapter of a book, I go straight to Goodreads. I know that this is a flawed argument because I have loved books in the past that had really bad ratings, but sometimes it helps in my decision when I’m not feeling the book in the first place. This is a great example of how I’m scared to let go of a book until I am faced with the prospect of actually reading it. 

Synopsis: 

“Daisy's best friend is missing . . . and not for the reasons she thinks.

Henry Hawking is sixteen years old, brilliant, funny, and sly--and now he's missing. But no one seems worried except his best friend, Daisy Cruz, who knows that Henry's security-obsessed parents would never leave town without taking proper precautions. And Henry would never go away without saying good-bye.

Daisy considers all the obvious explanations for Henry's disappearance (federal witness protection program, alien abduction) before breaking into Henry's house. In his room, she finds a note that pleads, SAVE ME.

Desperate to find Henry, Daisy follows his trail deep into the California wilderness. What she finds there makes her wonder if she ever knew Henry at all . . . and if the world as she knows it will ever be the same.”

Someday, Somewhere by Lindsay Champion

Decision: Saved 

I remember finding out about this book and loving the concept. I know I will want to read this when I am in the mood, so I’m going to save it for later. If later comes and I still haven’t read it, I guess it’ll be goodbye for this book. It has about an OK rating, so I’m not expecting something mind-blowing, but I’m sure it’ll make for a great summer read!

Synopsis: 

“Dominique is a high school junior from a gritty neighborhood in Trenton, where she and her mom are barely getting by. 

Ben is a musical prodigy from the Upper East Side, a violinist at a top conservatory with obsessive talent and a brilliant future.

When Dom's class is taken to hear a concert at Carnegie Hall, she expects to be bored out of her mind. But then she sees the boy in the front row playing violin like his life depends on it --- and she is transfixed. 

Posing as an NYU student, Dom sneaks back to New York City to track down Ben Tristan, a magnetic genius who whisks her into a fantasy world of jazz clubs and opera, infatuation and possibility. Each sees something in the other that promises to complete them.

As Dom's web of lies grows, though, so does Ben's obsessive need to conquer Beethoven's famous Kreutzer Sonata. But Ben's genius, which captivates Dominique, conceals a secret, and the challenges of her life may make it difficult to help him.”

The Killing Woods by Lucy Christopher 

Decision: Unhauled

While I loved Stolen by Christopher, I’ve been skeptical of this book. I’ve had this ARC since 2014, making it one of my oldest ARCs. I think it’s telling enough that I’ve had this for so long and have yet to read it. I think I read one sentence and I knew I didn’t want to spend my time reading this book. I’ve found that Young Adult thrillers are hit or miss with me (most being a miss), and I’m not sure this is the book for me.

Synopsis: 

“Ashlee Parker is dead, and Emily Shepherd's dad is accused of the crime. A former soldier suffering from PTSD, he emerges from the woods carrying the girl's broken body. "Gone," he says, then retreats into silence.

What really happened that wild night? Emily knows in her bones that her father is innocent -- isn't he? Before he's convicted, she's got to find out the truth. Does Damon Hilary, Ashlee's charismatic boyfriend, have the answers? Or is he only playing games with her -- the kinds of games that can kill?”

Have you read any of these three books? What were your experiences with them?

I’ll be back next week with another three picks!

Happy reading!

#books #bookish #booklr #bookworm #bookaholic #bibliophile #first chapter challenge #first chapter tag #first chapter #book blog #book blogger #read #reader #reading #yalit #yareads #young adult #Features #april #2019 #book unhaul #unhaul #book challenge #long text post #text post

[grecoisms]

title: vanderlyle, vanderlyle (1/3)

pairing: connor / kara

summary:  "he is not really surprised - the programme that ordered him to search for her among the masses of men and machines perhaps never truly finished running. would not, will not." 

(1) baptism

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

the thing wearing human clothes fools him for about twenty-five seconds, the time it takes an average human male to sprint down the stairs at rosa parks bus terminal and reach the exit. but there is no escape from here; and anyways, no human would have that look in their eyes. not in this city - that hunting, hunted kind of cold calculation, the ready to risk it all attitude.

so when he and the deviant lock eyes in the pouring rain, connor does what the piezoelectric battery pumped by the trillion of carbon nanotubes inside his artificial, synthetic cranium does best: he calculates the odds of each preconstructed scenario regarding the reaction of the other machine.

he knows she is doing the exact same thing.

incipiently, all ax400 models were designed to nurse and care. this, by definition, made it weaker. physically, like each android, it could easily endure long distances and extreme weather conditions all the same, but the child she has chosen to run away with and insisted on protecting - a malfunction like no other - would not tolerate the hardships that follow an escape in the pouring november rain, let alone the velocity needed for an escape like this; in the daylight, in an open field.

because the child simply cannot take it. they are both small, yes - the android does not reach five feet five; and the child is young. maybe they could have hidden, had they not been spotted so absolutely. they could have stayed hidden; stayed in what they considered safe. the anonymity, the namelessness, the walking between what can and cannot be. 

the erasure of labels.

but something must be rusting within his circuits, for connor has to cancel the preconstruction process. he has almost, it seems, followed the rabbit down the hole (//memo: the [little girl's name] is [williams, alice]). he is back in the rain, in the motel, staring dead in the bright blue eyes of the deviant, who straightens her spine in the shadows. her hair is brightwhite (//analysis: [white] is a [tactical disadvantage]). behind her, a sicklypale figure emerges, her mouth agape. williams, alice. she is in what humans would call a shock.

connor looks back at the deviant (kara, he remembers. its name is kara. the child is alice) who licks her lips, all anticipation.

he still has not told hank anything, though he is but two feets away, shivering as the downpour cleanses them.

//analysis: [symbolism] of [water]. clarity, cleansing, new beginnings. 

he is not very sure why he looked this up all the sudden, except he knows now and does not like what he has found. in his discomfort, or as to tear his mind from it, he finally opens his mouth.

"lieutenant!"

his shout is drowned by a thunder. the policemen turn anyway, and so does connor, back to find the android and the girl holding hands, their shapes a haze in the waterfall around. the deviant shakes her (itsitsitsitsitsits) head. there is something very primal, very human in the way she clenches her jaws.

it is useless to run.

the ax400 model does it anyway.

(2) confirmation

We almost always forgive those we understand.

jericho is a quiet canvas around them – an avalon, she thinks, the name escaping from a fairytale that is stored in her database – and it is a welcomed transition from the mayhem they escaped from. still, the sudden, shocking peace is delicate. feeble. kara dares not hope yet. she has had one unpleasant surprise too many in the past.

and yet. maybe it is the sheer novelty of it, or maybe it comes with merely being alive, walking on the unordinary pathways, but there are better-tasting surprises everyday.

for instance: the calluses on markus’ hands don’t mend as he carves and builds and forms a new table with dozens of chairs from the finest of steels.

”stainless” he explains to kara one evening as she reports the missing androids, as she lists the ones they need to hide or need to house or need to help.

when she presents him the names of their dead, she finds she cannot look him into the eyes and instead, looks down; down, to the reflective surface of that finely crafted table, all new and all whole. her reflection in it is shockingly bright and blinding. hopeful, even.

as she looks up, she finds markus both serious and smiling. she finds that it has been easier to understand such contradictions since she took alice’s hands in the house she does not want to name.

and oh. the surprises and the wonders.

like alice wanting to learn how to sing, and north knowing how to, her sharp features softer in the light of the evening when she is with them. when she is with alice.

”you gave your name yet?” north murmurs as alice runs to find the battered monopoly board game josh smuggled home as a gift. the name of some properties are illegible, but they make do. alice is inventing new names, new realities as they play.

”to what?” panic roses within her in less than a nanosecond. she does not want to promise anything in the long run. jericho may be sanctuary, but it is built on a powder keg of ideologies. she does not want alice and her to be here when it explodes. and canada is still a viable option, after the cold touch of winter eases its grip on the state.

north senses her fear and her lips turn thin. she might like alice, but she must think kara a coward. kara does not blame her. the definition of taking action is very much different in their heads.

still, north's voice is not unkind when she answers.

”connor is teaching how to imitate proper cursive. in case someone needs it in the future. we can even choose our own surnames, if we want.”

the flashback of her own clumsy, hurried writing at the motel's reception floats back in. she doubts she can get away with something like that again. at the border, for example. she shudders what the officials would do after beholding her cramped loops. and how in the world will she help alice learn, in case she needs it? she has never even asked her whether she can read, let alone write.

"alright" she hears herself saying, though her voice comes as through a filter, as a dream. she has seen connor here and there in jericho, haggard and pale, mostly conferring with markus, then disappearing again. it is safe to say she has not sought out his company. "alright."

"you met him before?" north asks, watching her face carefully.

kara thinks of their nigh-death experience on the highway, his grip on her shoulders, the smells and sounds tasting vile around them. it has been a month or two now. and even if she shudders at the memory, she does not fold herself smaller like she used to.

north does not press her further. this, she notes, is also surprising.

days fly by. markus has given her smaller assignments since they arrived here, talking and helping some of the newcomers, finding them places and aid josh in listing what they lack - as always, mostly android parts, new ones - and through rose, she has been in contact with androids from cleveland and hamilton.

the holo-messages she receives are short, angry and desperate. her answers are short, faux-calm and factual. most of the neighboring cities seek constant help and instant escape; something neither kara, nor markus can promise. and though kara does not like saying no to people in great need of support, she hates lying and fake-reassurance more. they simply do not have the resources to hide any more people presently.

at the end of the week, north smuggles alice some toys she has promised while kara learns to repair smaller defects and system failures from lucy. then she realizes that albeit she is making herself useful, she is stalling for time.

lucy guesses her thoughts before she can order them in place. she is getting used to it.

"he is here" lucy's hands are very cold as she touches her hands and turns her towards the stairs. and there, alone and thinner than she remembers him, stands connor, with new holes in his jacket and some dust on his pants. he is staring into one of the markus-made fires, lost in thoughts.

alright, she thinks and straightens her shoulders. she has danced her dance with him already, and there is no need to worry anymore since they are on the same side. they want the same things. don't they?

it is only thanks to the light of the fire that the former deviant hunter has some color in his face. even the carefully placed moles under his eyes have lost some of their darker hue. suddenly, she remembers the rumors around the camp, the ones that murmur about connor acting as a double agent and how he serves as the main source of intel between jericho and cyberlife. looking at him right here and now, with lanky fatigue on his boyish face, the thought seems laughable. but kara has seen enough to know that appearances are deceitful.

and for a moment, she does not care about her fear or his face. she needs a tangible truth, like ink-blotted writing on a piece of paper, or forming a name with one's mouth.

"connor" her voice is low, but she feels a defiance that makes her giddy. he jumps a bit at the sound, alarmed. maybe it is the familiarity of her voice, or the strangeness of his name in another's mouth.

here, she thinks, i named you. now, name me back, if you dare.

he turns towards her very slowly. his eyes are almost black as he stands in from of her, his back facing the light. "oh" he says, he breathes. the remnant of his strength seems to dissipate, and he rubs his hands together. he cannot feel the cold so it must be a nervous tick. "kara."

king and queen of cantelon - how many miles to babylon? she remembers out of nowhere, knowing deep in the hardwires of her thirium pump that it is a nursery rhyme, meant to be sung for children afraid of the dark. and here, half in the dark, half in the light, as kara watches connor and his shaking hands, she feels something she would not call anger. it is a relief, of some sort.

he opens his mouth to say something else, but decides against it. jericho continues to roar around them, world so dynamic, while he dares not even blink in fear of scaring her. or so she thinks.

will I get there by candle-light, she wonders; and then: to where? she searches the answer in connor's lost face, his sharp features and learnt movements. will he get there with her, to that place of wonders - arcadia, babylon, jericho. etcetera. and the list goes on.

kara inhales. connor exhales. or is it the other way around?

"i need your help" she says. there is a sort of finality in her voice.

"oh" he echoes. and does not correct the repetition in his mind, because theretherethere, on kara's mouth, a smile is forming.

(3) penance

And her light stretches over salt sea equally

somewhere halfway amidst the epiphany of his own rebirth and the ending of the world, connor spots kara in a dilapidated and dusty church. he is not really surprised - the programme that ordered him to search for her among the masses of men and machines perhaps never truly finished running. would not, will not. how to explain this? connor labels this question, and puts it away into a folder of his vast database-mind that has no name yet.

//note: irony - her hair gives her away that soft halo light behind the grime and the smoke he mirrors with his own disheveled self. when he approaches, his movements are careful and slow. finally, a choice he can call his own. and as he lowers to face them, he sees that she remembers. remembers him. oh, and her eyes are sharp again, the blue irises leadlike and unforgiving.

she tightens her arms protectively around alice's sleeping form. the tautness of her sinewy body, the ache and the awareness slipping through. he notices, with some suppressed pride, that she does not bother to hide these signs anymore. she is more alive than not. more alive than him.

if he were braver man, or rather, a man at all, he would kneel down to her feet, show the lines of his palms. a confession. a task most urgent. somehow, he does not doubt she would listen.

"i am sorry i put your lives in danger" he would say. his words would be clumsy, but she would accept them anyway.

but he is neither brave, nor a man, so he simply walks away - to find markus and cover the sight of her face with new input. it is a tedious task not to simply sit down on the cold hard stones and attempt to memorize the tender lines of her face.

//research later, connor orders himself as he walks away, synonyms for lovely.

the thought does not give him a headache like it did the first time hank touched his shoulders and he had to - no, wanted to - look up all the synonyms for friend. he discarded the order then. he does not do it now.

the synthetic walls around his thirium pump regulator shiver and shimmer. it is not an unpleasant phenomenon. he does not understand this either.

#connara #connor x kara #kara x connor #dbh #an eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind #otp: you. me. infinity #My writing

[lilacmoon83]

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 166: Walking the Wire

David looked over at her out of the corner of his eye, as Regina drove them and they sat in her backseat. He reached over and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as she stared out the car window, watching the cityscape pass them by.

"No...I don't think I am," she said, choking back a sob. He hummed in agreement.

"I guess that was a dumb question...okay seems like a pipe dream right now," he agreed.

"Emma's gone...and now our son is dating a murderer. Except, he doesn't remember he's our son and that he's actually in love with someone else," she said bitterly.

"Hey...I know. I hate this too, but we're going to fix all of this," he promised.

"We can't David! Emma is dead," she stated angrily and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Even if we fix everything else...Emma is gone forever," she cried, as he took her in his arms.

"And Leo is in serious danger, because he doesn't remember who Nick really is and if I lose one of our little boys…" she sobbed against his chest.

"No...I won't let it happen. I'm going to be watching him like a hawk and I will lock him up in prison where he belongs," he promised.

"Leo's going to be devastated...he loves Elsa. He'd never willingly be with someone else...this is..." she said, but she couldn't even say that word out the fear that her sorrow for her little boy would swallow her.

"He would never consent to that monster," she growled.

"I know...believe me, I want to rip his throat out," he agreed.

"But... we'll help him through this, just like we always have. And Elsa will understand that it's not his fault," he assured her.

"I know...I just keep thinking about how that could have been us. They could have cursed either or both of us to be with other people," she said, shuddering at that. He shuddered too. He had never had a desire to be with anyone but her and never would. He hated how all their lives had been torn apart yet again. And this time...their family had suffered a devastating loss and he was afraid they would never be quite the same. He knew they would endure and their love would help them survive it...but nothing would ever be the same without Emma.

"This is never going to work," Regina warned.

"It has to...we can't lose Lucy too," David replied. She nodded in agreement, before getting out and going to his door. He was waiting for her and opened it with a smug smile.

"Roni...it was such a pleasant surprise hearing from you. Won't you come in?" he asked. She faked a smile and nodded, as they went inside.

~*~

The Enchanted Forest 2

Storybrooke year - 2023

The portal opened and deposited them in a forest, which was very similar to the ones they knew in the other realms.

"Huh...if I didn't know any better, I'd say we're home," Robin commented.

"I suppose we better find Rose Red's palace," Belle said, as they trekked further into the forest. As they walked through a clearing, Emma had an eerie feeling and noticed a suspicious pile of brush in the middle of the clearing. Just as Elsa was about to step through it, Emma pulled her back.

"Emma...what are you doing?" she asked. Emma responded by using a large stick to trigger what she thought to be a trap. Elsa cried out, as the snapping jaws of a bear trap sprang up before them.

"Damn...that's one hell of a trap," Kristoff commented.

"How did you know there was a trap there?" Anna questioned. Emma smirked.

"My mother was a bandit and she used to set all kinds of traps to catch game. But this one was so obvious that it was definitely set by a novice. A stupid one," she commented.

"Excuse me...how dare you call me stupid! I was a King, you know!" a voice said, as a man emerged from the bushes, with a slithering-like man riding his coattails. Emma raised an eyebrow.

"The only reason I have to live in this blasted forest is because my traitorous niece ousted me from my Throne and then riff raff like you comes along and spoils my perfectly laid trap!" he complained.

"You must be John…" Emma said, with an amused smirk.

"That's King John! And I don't believe I have ever met you!" he growled in return.

"No...but you met my parents. Snow White and Prince David…" she responded.

"Them! They're the reason I had to flee that new land and lost another Throne! Prepare to taste my blade!" he said, as he extracted a dagger.

"Is this guy serious?" Kristoff muttered.

"He's worse than the Duke of Wesselton," Anna joked, laughing at him.

"Sire...I don't think we should be picking any fights," Sir Hiss advised.

"Shut up Hiss...you're spoiling my big moment!" John warned.

"Wait...hold on, this guy has a lisp and his name is Hiss?" Kristoff asked, as they all chuckled a little.

"Sure is...and as much fun as this is, we do not have time for it," Belle reminded.

"Quite right...we have our families to save," Robin agreed, as they moved on.

"Don't you dare walk away from the great Prince John! I am a force to be reckoned with, you know!" he said, as he threw a rock in their direction and Hiss threw one too. Unfortunately, it bounced off another rock and hit John right in the forehead.

"Owe...Hiss…" he growled, as he promptly lost consciousness.

"Oh dear...sorry Sire," he said, as the group they had just encountered moved on and made their way to the castle in the distance. As they did, Kristoff was still chuckling.

"Kristoff…" Anna chided.

"Oh come on...it's funny," he said. She gave him a look and he cleared his throat.

"Okay...not funny," he muttered, as he gave Emma a sideways glance when Anna wasn't glaring at him.

"It's funny right...I mean, Sir Hiss has a lisp. It's funny," he murmured. Emma smirked and shook her head.

"I suppose it's kind of funny, in a really juvenile way," she agreed.

"See...I knew you'd get it. You're David's kid," he said, happy with himself, as they reached the gates. Once they did, they were stopped by the Royal Guard.

"State your business," the lead guard said gruffly.

"It's imperative that we have an audience with Queen Rose Red and Prince Fandral," Emma said.

"No one just has an audience with the Queen, girl," he responded gruffly.

"Woman," she corrected.

"And I know them...they're friends. My name is Emma...just tell them and they'll know me," she implored.

"We'll do no such thing. Now leave...or else," he growled.

"Stand down Brundy," a strong voice called and one that sounded so familiar to Emma that it made her heart ache. The guard was immediately bowing.

"Your Highness," he said, as Fandral stood before them. Beside him stood a blonde teenager about Summer's age and Emma was struck by how much this girl looked like she did at that age.

"Emma...is that you?" Fandral asked. She smiled and nodded.

"Are your parents here?" he asked, looking around.

"Actually no...that's why we're here," Emma replied.

"Yes...there has been another curse. Our families are in danger and we have no idea where this curse took them," Robin explained.

"Aphrodite told us of the library that you and Rose Red are guardians of. She said if there was any way to find them...the answer may rest in one of the books here," Belle continued.

"How awful...another curse. Come...we'll tell Rose what is going on immediately and then we'll help you search," he said, motioning them along. Emma smiled and followed him.

"Thank you…" she said. He smiled.

"Emma...you and your parents are like family. There is nothing Rose and I will not do to help," he assured, as he led them inside the palace.

~*~

"Any change in that little girl? Lucy was it?" the desk nurse asked, as Jenna filed another chart from one of her patients.

"No...and I'm baffled. I can't find anything wrong. No wounds or injuries and her tox screen is completely clean," she replied in frustration.

"You're one of the best, Jenna...but maybe it's time to call in a specialist. I worked with this doctor a few months ago and he was incredibly gifted. Maybe you could consult him?" the nurse suggested. At this point, Jenna would try anything to save this little girl. There was just something about her and all of this that made her feel like lives depended upon it. The death of a child destroyed families all the time, but for some reason, she felt there was even more at stake here, though she couldn't put her finger on why.

"Do you have his card?" she asked. The nurse smiled and nodded, as she gave it to her.

"Doctor Anthony Narita," Jenna read, as she dialed his number.

~*~

Cassidy's shift was finally ending and he punched out, as he prepared to head to the station to make his daily report. He took his phone out, as he was walking toward his car and saw that he had a text from Weaver.

"I'm not at the station tonight. Come to the hospital when you're done," he read from the screen. Cassidy shrugged and suddenly noticed that he was surrounded by a few of the other guards.

"Uh...can I help you?" Cassidy asked.

"The boss wants to see you," one of the guards said. Cassidy knew better though. This was an ambush, which meant Clayton was onto him. He reacted with a punch to one of the guards and started to run, but he was tackled by another. He felt something blunt strike him on the back of the neck and everything went black.

~*~

"I must say...I'm still surprised by your call, though not unhappy," Baron said, as he poured a couple glasses of scotch and handed on to her.

"I got the impression last time I was at your bar that you had no interest in me," he mentioned.

"Well...things change," Roni responded, as she downed the scotch, welcoming the burning liquid sliding down her throat. It was pretty much the only way she was going to get through this. She hoped Snow and David were able to quickly find the chalice, because she seriously did not like how Samdi was looking at her right now. He chuckled and gave her a refill.

"The little girl...Lucy is it?" he asked. She paused, as she raised the glass to her lips and gave him a scrutinizing look.

"How did you know?" she questioned. He shrugged.

"I noticed her and her mother have been around you lately and guessed. I know there is young Bobby that you are fond of as well, but if it were Bobby, I suspect you could not be drawn away from Mary's side," he mentioned. She shot him an icy gaze.

"Mary is my...very dear friend and your son put her and her child through hell," she reminded. He nodded, taking her criticism in stride.

"I do not pretend to understand Franklin's expertise in the psychological sciences. Obviously, he mis-diagnosed Ms. Blanchard's dissociative identity disorder, but then we all make mistakes," he offered.

"Forcing pills down her throat and his orderlies leaving bruises on her was hardly a mistake. Trust me, if her...David Nolan had his way, both your son and Clayton Stavros would be behind bars right now," she warned.

"I believe Franklin deserves the benefit of the doubt, but I don't disagree about the Collector. He has an evil way about him...pretending to be her brother with forged documents and trying to rip a child away from her is truly dastardly. But I daresay, Mary is lucky to have someone like Detective Nolan in her corner," he leered, as he sipped at his drink.

"David is a good friend...and someone who will always seek justice, especially for the people he cares about," Roni responded in a neutral tone. Samdi smirked.

"Though it's quite clear that those two are more than friends," he mentioned. Roni pursed her lips.

"Sometimes there are certain people in this world that simply belong together. That's Mary and David," she answered.

"Oh, I wholeheartedly agree...some people are just meant to be," he leered, as he towered over her with a look that instantly told her they were no longer talking about Mary and David. She looked away uncomfortably and finished her drink.

"Ah...I've made you uncomfortable. I apologize, but you can't blame a gentleman for trying, especially when it comes to a woman as beautiful as you," he added smoothly. She turned back and forced a smile.

"Not at all," she lied.

"I guess I'm just a bit preoccupied...with Lucy," she confessed.

"Yes...such a terrible thing. If only there was something someone could do to save her," he mentioned.

"If only," she agreed, getting a bit nervous, as he looked at her with a passionate gaze. She didn't want to kiss him, but if she pulled away, he would be more suspicious than she suspected he already was. And getting caught meant Lucy could die, so she did not resist when he pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes opened and met his once their lips parted and he smiled softly.

"That was nice," he said. She nodded in agreement.

"It was," she stated.

"Do you think they've had enough time?" he asked. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?" she asked.

"Do you think Snow White and her prince have had enough time to pilfer through my home?" he questioned with an edge in his voice and she blanched.

"You are a very poor actress, my Queen...a good poker face, you don't have," he said and she gasped, as he rushed toward his office. She hurried after him and cried out to them to give them some kind of warning, though it wouldn't do any good.

~*~

It was eternally lucky for them that Baron Samdi hadn't bothered to lock the door once he let Roni in. Picking a lock on the window probably would have been easy for Snow, but disarming what looked like a state of the art security system would have been an obstacle. Luckily, it wasn't armed and they slipped into his residence without incident. They looked at each other and David nodded toward the hallway. He took her hand and led her quietly down the hallway, peering in darkened rooms, as they went. He motioned with his head and they quietly made their way into what appeared to be his office.

"You think he'd really hide in his office?" she whispered.

"If my gut is right...and I think it is, because look at those shelves," he replied quietly, as she looked at the various trinkets.

"Shrunken heads and junk?" she asked. He smirked.

"Trophies," he corrected.

"Why would a cheap little shrunken head be a trophy?" she asked and then realized what he was getting at.

"Oh, you don't think these…" she started to say, as she dropped one of them back onto the shelf.

"Real people?" she asked, horrified by that. He shrugged.

"He is into some pretty dark magic and instead of taking hearts…" he said, trailing off.

"Ugh…" she whimpered, as she shook her hand off and wiped it off on her jeans. He chuckled at her antics, as he continued to poke around the shelves.

"If it's glowing...wouldn't he conceal it where it can't be seen?" she wondered. He smiled at her indulgently.

"Yes he would…" he said, as he knocked on the spine of one of the books on the shelves.

"A hallow book," she said, sharing his smile, as he tipped it down and panel in the wall where an expensive painting adorned it, spun around.

"Talk about a Scooby-Doo moment," Snow commented, as the glow of the chalice filled the office.

"We got it," he said, as he took it in his hand.

As he said that though, they heard Regina cry out to them and David scrambled toward her, only to find that Facilier's grandson had slipped in behind them and it quickly became clear that this was an ambush, as he put a gun to Snow's head.

"Get your hands off her," David growled, as the man took her arm, as he held her hostage at gunpoint.

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen," Baron Samdi interjected, as he entered the room, with Regina running after him.

"Did you really think I didn't know exactly what was going on when you called me?" he questioned the former Queen.

"It doesn't matter...the chalice doesn't belong to you and our great granddaughter's life depends on us using it," David said.

"He's right...punish us if you have to, but don't let her die," Snow pleaded.

"I'm afraid I can't let either of you leave here with that...it's the key to getting what has been denied to me for so long," Samdi mentioned.

"The time travel thing...you can't still be on that. It's not going to work," David refuted.

"Oh, but it already has. Just talking about going back in time before the curse was cast had an effect. It worked and took us to this place, just not far enough into the past for me. In the right hands...it will work," he countered.

"But you can't touch it without being incinerated," Snow reminded.

"Then you will do it for me," Baron stated.

"No...this isn't going to end the way you think. Please...Lucy needs us," Regina pleaded.

"All I wanted was your love…" he argued.

"You and I both know that's not true. You were drawn to power...the power I had as the Evil Queen. You loved that part of me and she's gone," Regina argued.

"No...she's still inside you or she was...until you ripped her away!" he roared, as she took a step back from him.

"Then you know…" she realized.

"I told him about my experiences in your little town...Storybrooke and Dr. Jekyll's serum," Franklin confirmed.

"How could you just throw her away? She was the love of my life," he confessed.

"And she was the worst part of me...she continually haunted me and then she came back. She hurt the people I love!" Regina said.

"She threw me away for a curse...we could have been so good together. We still can," Baron stated, as he looked at David.

"You will do what I want…" he said, as his charm appeared in his hand. As Franklin seemed distracted by that, Snow bit his hand and he cried out, as she tore away. But he angrily backhanded her, sending her crashing to the floor.

"Bastard!" David cried, seeing red the moment this man struck his beloved. He tackled the doctor and punched him in response.

"Does it make you feel like a big man when you hit a woman?" David growled. But Franklin chuckled.

"So predictable, Prince Charming...you reacted just as I knew you would if I touched your precious Snow," he sneered, as his grandfather suddenly had the charm in front of David's face and he was put under Samdi's control.

"David!" Snow cried, as she sat up.

"Samdi...don't do this!" Regina cried, but Franklin trained her gun on her, keeping her from interfering.

"Clayton almost had the chalice in Atlantis. He killed one half of the truest loves and for a brief second, he could touch the chalice to take its power. But your brats spoiled it and you brought your prince back," Samdi stated, as he looked at the Princess.

"But I will not make the same errors he made and once you are gone, Snow White, the Chalice will be mine. Your children aren't here to interfere and when your Prince awakens to see what has happened...well, he'll be in no condition to stop me from doing anything," he continued.

"So you're going to kill me while Charming is under your spell," she realized and he chuckled.

"Oh no...he's going to do it for me," Samdi threatened, as he stood behind David and spoke in his ear.

"Kill her…choke the life out of her…" he instructed, as David stared straight ahead and moved toward her.

"David…" Snow uttered, as he hovered over her.

"Charming...snap out of it…" she pleaded, as his hands reached for her neck and she felt around the floor for any blunt objects. Fortunately, some of the things on Samdi's desk had fallen onto the floor in the commotion and she found a paperweight.

"I'm sorry, my love, but you'll thank me later," she said, as she hit him in the chin with the object and he went falling to the floor. She got up immediately and as he lay there dazed, she leaned down and kissed him. His eyes opened wide and the chalice glowed, as Samdi's spell was nullified.

"Snow…" he uttered when their lips parted and then widened in the horror of what had almost happened.

"Shh...I'm fine," she assured, as she helped him up. Samdi smirked.

"You are both formidable for sure. I suppose this evening is a draw...but it won't be the last time we entangle for the power in that chalice," he assured. Franklin glanced at him.

"We can't let them go," he growled.

"Ivan…" Samdi chided, as he used his grandson's real name.

"No, they ruined my life...and so did you!" he cried, as he pointed the gun at all of them. David's hand twitched, as he started to go for the gun in his holster, but Franklin saw that and grabbed Snow. He put her in a headlock and pressed the barrel to her temple, halting any movements from him.

"Let her go…" David warned with an edge in his voice.

"I had a thriving practice until you two came along…" he growled.

"Then my life became insanity!" he added.

"Only because you couldn't let my wife go and forget your grudge. Everything could have went back to normal for you in New Orleans, but you chose to come after us," David retorted.

"Because you and this little bitch tarnished my reputation! It took me years to build my practice and emerge from the disgraceful shadow that he left me under!" Ivan screamed. He had finally snapped under all the pressure and David knew he had to diffuse this quickly, before he harmed the woman he loved. Ivan glared at his grandfather.

"You made our name something to be mocked! It is still sneered at in the academic community! Then I finally get a new practice under the Samdi name...and you two have sought to ruin me again!" he cried, looking at Snow and David.

"You locked Snow up and forced pills down her! You diagnosed her with a disorder she doesn't really have, so those recent newspaper articles are your fault!" Regina growled.

"No!" he shouted.

"They're hers," he growled, as he started making his way toward the exit with Snow as his hostage.

"But I'm going to have the last laugh. I'm going to kill your precious Snow White and render that stupid cup powerless," Franklin boasted, as he glared at his grandfather.

"Then you'll have nothing and be stuck in this world, powerless for the rest of your miserable life. I've made sure to ruin your reputation while I was at it," he added cryptically. Samdi looked at him suspiciously.

"What have you done, you little fool?" he questioned.

"You'll soon know…" he said, as the look in his eye was one that was purely psychotic.

"You're not walking out of here with my wife…" David warned.

"Watch me," he growled, as he pulled her through the house, but he used the chalice to blast him, before he could get out, releasing Snow.

"You blasted your own wife with the power of the chalice," Samdi said, looking on in awe, but was shocked to see that Snow was completely unscathed.

"No...I knew its power wouldn't hurt her," he replied, as he hooked his arm around Snow's waist and drew her into a passionate kiss. She smiled at him, as their lips parted and rested her head on his chest, as the stun from the chalice started to wear off Franklin and he stirred.

"Leave now...and I won't call the real police to tell them you broke into my home," Baron stated.

"And let him get away with trying to kill my wife? I don't think so," David growled. Samdi smirked.

"Fine...take him, but if you want to keep yourself and your precious Snow out of the eye of scrutiny, then you'll forget any charges against me," Baron stated. Regina hauled off and slapped him hard across the face at that.

"You're getting off this time...but don't make a move against my family again or you just might see shades of the Evil Queen again. And trust me...you won't like it," she warned, but he only smirked in amusement.

"My poor grandson has lost his mind...you should take him into custody before he hurts anyone else...or himself," Baron said.

"You...you're betraying me?!" Franklin cried.

"Nothing personal...but I'm afraid prison doesn't factor into my plans," Baron replied.

"I'll ruin you for this! I'll tell the whole world what a quack you are!" Franklin ranted, as David prepared to cuff him. As his back was turned to Baron, he didn't see him brandish the charm again.

"No...you won't, for we have discussed this matter with great scrutiny," he said, as the last word seemed to activate something in the younger Samdi, as his eyes glazed. David realized what he was going to do, but didn't get to the gun in time.

"No...don't!" he cried, as Franklin grabbed the gun beside him and shot himself in the head. Snow screamed, as he turned and blocked her view of the now gruesome sight. The carnage was even too much for Regina and she found herself heaving a bit to keep the bile back. If not for having seen stuff like this in his years as a cop, even David would have probably lost it too, but Samdi seemed unaffected by the carnage or death. David glared daggers at him.

"You murderer…" he growled.

"Oh no...he committed suicide," Baron stated and knew it would be ruled as such.

"He was a very troubled man...driven off the edge by one head case that plagued him and ruined his reputation," Samdi goaded, as he looked at Snow.

"Shut the hell up," David snapped, as he held his shocked wife.

"You may get away with this now...but it won't stand," David promised.

"Oh, you're going to have far bigger problems than me soon, Detective. You should call this in so a crew can come clean up this mess," he responded coldly. David glared daggers at him, as he made the call. They had the chalice now and could save Lucy, but it had not come without enduring another hellish night of trauma.

"They have the chalice...it's time,"

~*~

Drizella hung up her phone at that and looked back at her little sister. She found that having her back wasn't so bad when she was shunning her mother. It was truly just desserts for Victoria. She finally had her golden child back, only to be rejected quite completely. Drizella smirked and dialed a number.

"Detective Rogers...it's Ivy Belfry," she stated.

"What can I for you, Ms. Belfry?" Rogers inquired.

"I think my mother has done something terrible...and I can no longer sit by and let her get away with it," she stated.

"And what has she allegedly done?" he questioned.

"Go to Belfry Tower tonight and take the freight elevator to the 85th floor. All the answers you have been seeking are there," she replied cryptically.

"Belfry Tower is only 84 floors if I remember correctly," he responded. She smirked.

"Oh trust me, Detective. There's a 85th floor and all my mother's secrets are there," she said, as she hung up the phone with a devious smirk. Finally, her mother was going to get exactly what she deserved and the next phase of the plan could begin...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #Snowing centric season 7 #season 7 #AU #Hyperion Heights #Roni #Weaver #Rogers #Dashing Rose #romance #adventure #family #finding you always #the epic continues

[qqueenofhades]

Starlight & Strange Magic, Chapter 18: In Which Everyone Would Like To Know How This Happened

Rating: M Summary:  Lucy Preston, a young American woman, arrives in England in 1887 to teach history at Somerville College, Oxford. London is the capital of the steam and aether and automatonic world, and new innovations are appearing every day. When she meets a mysterious, dangerous mercenary and underworld kingpin, Garcia Flynn, her life takes a turn for the decidedly too interesting. But Lucy has plenty of secrets of her own – not least that she’s from nowhere or nowhen nearby – and she is more than up for the challenge. Available: AO3 Previous: In Which It Snows In St. Petersburg

To say the least, there is not a lot that can prepare you for the sight of your best friend literally falling out of the blue, a hundred and thirty years and a parallel dimension away from where you left him, and his landing spot being a back alley in Steampunk St. Petersburg just yards from you and your – well, Lucy has given up on any easily definable term for Flynn, so never mind that. She remains kneeling next to Rufus, her mouth still open but no sound coming out, as he likewise tries to regather enough wind to speak. He lifts his head an inch, then gives up, falling back into the snow, and she briefly fears that he’s dead. “Rufus?” she says again. “Rufus?”

“Nnnrgh.” Rufus seems to be signaling that he in fact still operational, but it’s going to take a long time to get everything back online, and she shouldn’t panic in the interim. At least he can apparently tell that he ended up in the right place, so he takes several well-deserved moments to remain exactly where he goddamn is. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Lucy repeats. It’s not really worth asking him the obvious question at this point, but she slides a hand under his head. “Can you stand up?”

Rufus tries, legs twitching, but to no result. For his part, Flynn – after an understandable moment of total shock – has realized that Lucy knows the magical flying moron, and strides down the alley, boots crunching, to tower over him. “Who the hell is this? What just happened?”

“This is my – this is Rufus.” Lucy waves at him to back off with the looming, as Rufus has clearly had the hell of a day already and she doesn’t want his first impression of Westworld to be an upside-down, bad-tempered Flynn. “I have no idea what happened, but he – he may be hurt.”

Flynn raises an eyebrow, as if to say that if anyone wasn’t hurt after that swan dive from the sky, he would be very surprised. He considers Rufus balefully, as if to make sure he isn’t a cleverly disguised cruise missile (or whatever this world’s equivalent would be) and then realizes, as Lucy does, that this has put a crimp in the plan of packing her aboard the nearest airship back to England. She isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not, but Rufus is here, needs help, and obviously has a whale of a tale as to how he is. And with Jiya supposedly held captive by Rittenhouse, that means all three of the team may be here, and while Lucy would of course gratefully welcome the presence of her friends again at long last, there is a fairly obvious logistical snafu. The Lifeboat, hidden back in New York, is only configured to take one of them home. And while further individual rocket-ship rides might not be totally out of the question, it is a stretch to expect to be normal after one of those, let alone survive two.

One problem at a time. Lucy pushes that out of her head, and turns to Flynn. “Can you – can you help me with him? We’ll have to go back to the hideout.”

Flynn considers, then shrugs. He leans down, hauls Rufus upright none too gently, and slings him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, as Rufus groans feebly but can’t really object to being tossed like a sack of beans. Lucy gives Flynn a be careful look, and goes to ensure that they can get out ahead of what must be a horde of incoming spectators. People must have seen that across St. Petersburg, and if the story spreads, that could also cause difficulties. It would be better to be away from here post-haste.

With Flynn lugging Rufus, Lucy wends her way back through the narrow alleys and stone quays that line the canal; the Neva is frozen solid, and won’t break up until March or April of next year, so the wintertime commerce is starting to set up camp on the river. At the moment, most of them are heading toward the site of the impact, speculating worriedly on what it could be, so Lucy and Flynn have to be careful about staying out of sight. They finally clamber over a low wall and hurry toward the warehouse, check once more that they haven’t been followed, and push through the door, as Lucy shuts and bars it behind them.

Flynn’s gang, who were expecting the boss back but not Lucy, jump to their feet in confusion, which is doubled at the sight of a semi-conscious man slung over his shoulder. The Sokolovs hurry to get some sacks to set Rufus down on, and as he recovers more of his battered higher faculties, Lucy can see him wondering just what kind of crowd she is running with these days. It’s finally Shitmouth who says, “Who’s the Negro, then?”

“Friend of hers.” Flynn glances at Lucy, with a hard-to-read expression. “At least, I take it from how she greeted him. If you recently heard a very large bang and saw a flash, that was him.”

“We thought an airship might have blown up,” says one of the Taylors. “Or someone had bombed the docks. How’s one man have that effect instead?”

“I sense it’s a fascinating story. But one not for you lot’s ears.” Flynn speaks brusquely, his manner once more that of the take-no-prisoners crime boss, as he turns his head at a sound from outside. “We’re still close to the scene. We should move again.”

“And what, that means I’m off to scout another hideout for us?” Karl has been standing with arms folded and chin outthrust. “We stay low and quiet, they’re not likely to come nosing around here again so soon. They just made an inspection yesterday, a few proper bribes should keep them out for months.”

Flynn looks at him as if to ask if Karl knew the correct St. Petersburg middle bureaucrats to pay off and did so, Karl looks back as if to say that of course he does and did, and interesting though this ongoing power struggle is, Lucy thinks they need to pay more attention to Rufus. She gets a cup of tea from the chipped porcelain samovar, warms it up, and hands it to Rufus, who is able to sip it with only minor assistance. Flynn waves away the gang to give her space, and once they have all withdrawn to the other side of the warehouse, Lucy and Rufus are left with a semblance of privacy. They look at each other, then blurt out at the same time, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Yeah.” Rufus grimaces. “It was not easy. I’ll see if I can explain it briefly. Basically, Jiya went missing thanks to some kind of artifact that took her and Wyatt Logan’s wife out of a room at Bethlem Royal Hospital. Mrs. Logan is there, it’s a long story, I don’t know it. I went to confront Connor about it, and – I can’t be sure, but I think he’s still actually on our side, has been tricking Rittenhouse and trying to delay them while pretending to be their fancy CEO. He gave me the equations for the Mothership’s modifications, and the schematics for whatever device he used to talk to Emma here, the Refractory-Glass. I put one together, which was how I communicated with you the other day. When is it, anyway? Date-wise?”

“November 1887,” Lucy says. “I’ve been here for just over a year. So what, you managed to build a working Refractory-Glass receptor from scratch?”

“Well, I had the plans,” Rufus points out. “And as I thought about it, and how Jiya vanished, I realized that I could possibly apply the principle to transmit myself along the same channels. After all, the human body is also essentially highly coded information packets, so if I could find the right frequency, I could basically email myself here. I took the Mothership modifications and meddled around with them so they applied to one person rather than a time machine, kind of like what I did to the Lifeboat the first time, but without the infrastructure. I realized that I already had a connection to wherever you were physically with the Refractory-Glass, so I set up the destination point to track with you.”

“So you were magnetically guided to wherever I was, and I’m supposed to be in Oxford, but instead, I’m in Russia – it’s a long story,” Lucy adds, seeing Rufus’s face. “That’s amazing, Rufus, that’s dazzling genius, but how did you know it was going to work?”

“I didn’t,” Rufus admits. “If I’d made a mistake in the math or the coding protocols, I would be disconnected wifi, times a thousand, and not exist in any of the branches of the multiverse ever again. But I couldn’t get here any other way, and I – ” He stops, then shrugs, glancing down. “For you and Jiya, I thought it was worth the risk.”

Lucy looks at him, realizes that in the haste and shock and disbelieving explanations, she has had no time to simply take in the fact that he’s here, he’s here, and reaches out to hug him desperately hard, fighting tears. Rufus does the same, they shake silently in each other’s arms, and then sniffle and try to pull themselves together. “Anyway,” he says. “I turned on my receptor to get a signal connected to Westworld, punched in all the information, crossed my fingers and toes and everything else, and stepped into the projector circle. The next thing I know, I’m dive-bombing out of the clear blue yonder, it’s really cold, I can’t breathe, and I see you and some cranky Russian giant staring at me. So I guess I didn’t screw it up.”

“That’s – that’s Flynn,” Lucy says. “He’s not actually Russian. He’s – as I said. Long story.”

“That’s Flynn?” Rufus looks startled. “Wait, the same one that Connor said was causing all the headaches for Rittenhouse here? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you two managed to meet up, but what’s with all the Newsies sidekicks?”

“He’s a crime boss in London. He runs a gang, that’s them, they’re here in Russia because Rittenhouse has an interest in the Trans-Siberian Railway. They’re having it built to provide themselves with a proprietary aether pipeline. We’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out what they’re doing and how they want to harvest magic from this reality. I was actually on my way back to Oxford – I have a teaching post there – right before you made your dramatic entrance.”

“Have you heard anything about Jiya?” Rufus asks urgently. “Anything at all?”

Lucy hesitates. “Emma came to see me in Oxford last week,” she says at last. “She hinted that Rittenhouse had Jiya prisoner, and unless I cooperated, they’d – well. You know.”

“Rittenhouse has Jiya prisoner?” Rufus looks set to jump to his feet and swim to England himself. “I mean, I realize we can’t exactly work with them, but – what the hell did Emma even want? Just to be horrible and ruin more people’s lives?”

“She wanted help finding a lost magical library,” Lucy says. “The Bibliotheca Corviniana. It belonged to the Raven King, a famous fifteenth-century magician. She thinks it’ll tell her everything she needs to know to complete her world domination.”

“Yay. Emma.” Rufus rolls his eyes heavenward. “Still the worst in every universe, good to know. I feel like I’m probably missing half the story, but we can’t sit around shooting the shit all day. Are you and Flynn friends?”

“We…” Lucy doesn’t know how to answer that. “We’re colleagues, sort of. It’s been a very back-and-forth process. I think we’re working together now, but it could change again.”

Rufus eyes her shrewdly, as he knows her well enough to tell that she’s being purposefully evasive on this front. Still, this is not the opportune moment to press for details, so he doesn’t. “So, Jiya – did Emma say where she was supposed to be? Anything?”

“No. I was going to try to find her, but then I got – ” Lucy considers that. “Inadvertently brought over here, by Karl. He’s Flynn’s right-hand man. I think.”

“Which one’s Karl? The sandy weasel with the pornstache?” Rufus glances at the far side of the warehouse, where the gang appears to be a little too intently absorbed in conversation. “Or one of the other Scorsese rejects? Lucy, obviously, I’m the newcomer here, I don’t know what’s going on or what you’ve been up to, but do you really trust these guys?”

“I trust Flynn,” Lucy says. “And the Sokolovs – those two, the large blond Russian brothers. I think the others like me, or are at least certainly aren’t going to do anything to me. They’re the closest thing I’ve got to allies.”

Rufus continues to look extremely skeptical, but at last, he blows out a breath and nods. “Okay, if you say so. So what’s the plan? Can we get out of here and go save Jiya?”

“I want to,” Lucy promises him. “But after your entrance, we have to see if the airships are even still running. The Russian authorities may have closed down the port, and Rittenhouse definitely has people here as well. Can you even walk yet?”

Rufus makes a valiant attempt to get up, then reels, and Lucy has to catch his arm before he falls. Rufus breathes hard as the world apparently somersaults, and sits down again heavily. “Jiya’s hella resourceful,” he says, as if in an attempt to convince himself that any delay whatsoever in the rescue mission is acceptable. “She’s pulled the wool over Rittenhouse’s eyes and gotten away from them before, she could have done it again.”

“Yes, but we can’t count on that, and we can’t kill you too trying to get to her.” Lucy notices that Rufus’ color is still off, and drains the dregs of the samovar for another cup of tea. Violent interdimensional self-translocation is definitely not flying in business class, which her trip in the Lifeboat was by comparison. “Actually, I’m going to send a telegram to Ada Lovelace. Tell her to tell Oxford that I’ll be back soon, and see if she can get her butler on the case. Woolsey found Flynn’s hideout in like one morning, he could possibly find Jiya too.”

“Ada Lovelace?” Rufus goggles. “You know Ada Lovelace? Didn’t she die in like, the 1850s?”

“Not in this universe, apparently. She’s a grand old dame and very gleefully eccentric.” Lucy smiles at the thought. “We met when I came to London, and we hit it off.”

Rufus looks suitably impressed at the idea, and after a few more minutes, Lucy leaves him to continue his recuperation, heading over to the gang and explaining what she needs to do. It is agreed that Anton and Gennady will escort her to the telegraph office and take stock of the airship situation, and she can feel Flynn’s eyes on their backs as they leave. She’s tempted to glance over her shoulder and see what expression it is, but she isn’t going to be caught mooning after him. She screwed up her courage and asked for what she wanted, and he said no. She doesn’t know why, she’s going to respect his refusal because that’s what decent people do, take her lumps and get on with things, but it still hurts in an entirely different way than before. See. This is exactly why she didn’t want to make a move and muddy the waters with unrequited heartbreak. Should have contented herself that they finally seemed to be on the same page and actually ready to work together, and nothing else.

Sensing her melancholy, Gennady clears his throat awkwardly. “Are sad, Lucy?” he asks. “Later, I JUGGLE for you? Is VERY FUNNY when I juggle. I often DROP BALLS.”

“That – what, oh, no, that’s very sweet of you, but no.” Lucy glances at the Sokolovs, striding to each side of her like twin towers of six-foot-three Bolshevik brawler with perfect manners, and wonders if she could convince them to come back to England with her. After all, they technically aren’t part of Flynn’s gang; they work on the docks in London, and they don’t seem terribly impressed by his shortcomings in the etiquette department. Rescuing Jiya, if necessary, would take a lot more muscle than she and Rufus have alone, and they clearly like her. Maybe she can start up her own gang. There’s not a whole lot more scandalized that Somerville can be, right?

The streets are crowded, the alley where Rufus crashed in is cordoned off, and police inspectors in high-collared overcoats and fur hats are blowing whistles and barking at the gawking onlookers to back off. It definitely looks like all incoming and outgoing airships and steamships have been halted while they search for the source of the incident, which doesn’t help. The crush slows almost to a standstill at points, so Anton picks Lucy up under his arm like a football and sends Gennady in front of them to bowl open a path. This is very effective, and they finally fight clear of the throng and make it to the port telegraph office. It occurs to Lucy just before they go in that Rittenhouse might be monitoring communications in and out of St. Petersburg, and she stalls. “Wait, what if they’re reporting to someone?”

“Eh?” Anton frowns at her, and Lucy explains that she’s worried they’ll pass her telegram on to some sort of secret listening service. The Sokolovs look at her, then at each other, crack their knuckles, and inform her to wait where she is and to maybe turn her back. They then proceed menacingly inside the telegraph office. Five minutes of muffled banging, thumps, shouts, and crashes later, Anton re-emerges, only slightly out of breath. “All right,” he announces. “Telegraph operator is ready to talk now.”

Lucy raises both eyebrows at him as he offers a hand to help her over the threshold, then over the numerous items of furniture that seem to have become unaccountably dislodged. A very cowed-looking clerk in a cockeyed green visor is sitting by the machine, with Gennady standing guard, and after some fits and starts, since Lucy doesn’t speak Russian and the clerk doesn’t speak English, Anton serves as translator and she composes a brief message to Ada. There’s also the possibility of it being read on the other end, so Lucy can’t go into much detail. She manages to convey that she has accidentally wound up in Russia, she would appreciate Ada informing Oxford that she’s not dead, and apologizing profusely for the inconvenience. As well, if Mr. Woolsey can possibly make a few enquiries about a young female friend of hers? Jiya?

When this is finished and dispatched, Gennady asks if he should take the telegraph operator by his heels and shake him several times to ensure he does not retain any copies for anyone else. It as he is prepared to do this that something falls out of the operator’s pocket, some kind of special cancellation stamp. When Lucy picks it up and turns it over, she can see the name SIBLEY in the grilling. Flynn said that Hiram Sibley Junior is running the railway project for Rittenhouse, and his father, Hiram Sibley Senior, was one of the main pioneers of the telegraph in America. Sibley senior worked with Samuel Morse, inventor of Morse code, and was the first president of Western Union, as well as being very interested in Russian-American telegraphic links. Lucy thought of him back when Flynn mentioned Rittenhouse’s Siberian interests at tea with Ada, and this appears to be proof positive that Sibley junior has in fact seeded St. Petersburg telegraph offices with his spies.

“What?” Anton asks, seeing her face. “What is?”

Lucy shows him the stamp – she doesn’t know exactly what it’s for, but most likely to highlight messages that might warrant Sibley’s personal inspection. Once she has conveyed this to the Sokolovs, they assume thunderous frowns and turn back to the clerk. They interrogate him in rapid-fire Russian, which Lucy of course can’t follow, and when the clerk seems to shirk on offering answers, Anton plucks him out of his chair and holds him up like a punching bag in front of Gennady. This sufficiently alarms the clerk into squawking something, which they make him write down. Anton holds it out to Lucy. “Is address. He says for office of Sibley.”

Lucy’s stomach lurches. This, obviously, would be a major breakthrough, and after a moment of consideration, she decides that they have accomplished enough for now. She jerks her head at the Sokolovs, they smartly step after her, and the clerk has a look of both terror and awe on his face at seeing a tiny woman command this pair of behemoths. They take a back route to the Ditch to avoid the police and the crowds, and hurry into the warehouse, where Flynn jumps away from the door as if to prove that he wasn’t standing there and waiting for them to return. “There you are,” he says. “Took long enough.”

“Is obviously some problems.” Anton eyes Flynn up and down. “You have not let Lucy’s friend die, we hope?”

“No, he’s over there.” Flynn jerks his head at Rufus, who does not look to be particularly enjoying his hospital bed of burlap sacks in a drafty Russian warehouse, surrounded by heavily armed criminals wanted in at least two countries. Shocking, that. “Did you get the message off?”

“Yes. And there’s this.” Lucy hands him the slip of paper. “The Sokolovs got it out of the telegraph clerk that that’s Hiram Sibley’s office. The family is in the business, he’s probably been helping Rittenhouse tap all the wires in and out of St. Petersburg.”

Flynn scans it quickly, scowling. “Sibley’s been at the Winter Palace most days to meet with the tsar and his engineering advisors. I did think he had to have a base somewhere nearby, but… are you sure about this?”

“I was about to punch clerk VERY HARD,” Gennady puts in. “In UNPLEASANT region for gentleman. Not sure if that make him more truthful, but I HOPE SO.”

Flynn raises an eyebrow at the younger Sokolov, but obviously does not dispute this bare-knuckled method of problem-solving. Finally he says, “Very well, we should check it out. If Sibley’s not there, we might also be able to steal his files or information. I’ll take the Taylors, Gennady, and Karl. The rest of you go and keep out of trouble, except for Anton. You stay here.”

Anton blinks. “I stay here? Why?”

“Because,” Flynn says, “you’re the only one I trust to keep a proper eye on Lucy and her vagabond friend. As soon as he can stand up straight and the heat’s died down, you can take care of getting them aboard an airship back to England.”

“Wait,” Lucy says. “I did send a telegram, I – Rufus just – ” She isn’t sure how much to say in front of Flynn’s gang, since he clearly has not widely shared the truth of her origins, and thus does not need to go blurting out that she and Rufus are from the next universe over. “He just fell out of the sky, I don’t think he’s going to be able to immediately travel – ”

“Airship to England,” Flynn says to Anton, ignoring her. “Yes?”

Anton pauses, then nods. “Yes.”

“Good.” Flynn strides away, opens a crate, and begins strapping on several extra guns, evidently in case Hiram Sibley is indeed there and objects to having his office robbed. Lucy stands there furiously, then runs after him, grabbing his arm. He looks up at her with his customary sardonic-dick expression. “Yes, Lucy?”

“You can’t just banish me,” Lucy says angrily. “You can’t just return to treating me like a piece of cargo, throwing me on board an airship again, like I have no thoughts or volition of my – ”

“Banish you?” Flynn arches the other eyebrow to its utmost potential. “You remember how you got here in the first place? I’m trying to help you out. I thought you wanted to go back to England.”

“I do.” Lucy’s voice sounds weak, and she tries again. “I do, but with Rufus – ”

“Nobody asked him to crash the party. Literally.” Flynn shrugs, thumbing open the chamber of a revolver, checking that it’s loaded, and slinging it into the holster. “Is that the only thing you want, Lucy? Because if not, you should say so.”

Lucy almost screams at him that she said so, she said so as clearly she could stand to do last night, and he already told her what his answer was. How dare he act as if it is her responsibility to fess up and bare her soul to him, when he stopped it, when he said no, and she has been chasing her head in circles and viciously second-guessing herself for risking it at all? The need is still present, it hasn’t gone away. If anything, infuriatingly, it’s gotten even stronger, the realization that while she is presently very angry at him and would happily slap that idiot look off his handsome asshole face, she would just as happily snap and kiss him, and possibly something else, if his entire gang was not standing right here and not even pretending they aren’t hanging onto this for dear life. Lucy’s fists clench. To stop herself from which of the options, she has no idea. Probably both.

After a pause, Flynn gets to his feet, straightening to his full height above her, which puts her nose somewhere in the region of his solar plexus. “You’ll stay here,” he says, in a tone that brooks no argument, “until it’s safe. Then you’re going to leave.”

Somewhere in the confused jumble of lust, wrath, and other deadly sins currently fighting for mastery of Lucy’s brain, it occurs to her to wonder if Flynn has been low-key panicking since she got here. If she’s likewise dropped out of the clear blue sky, not quite as spectacularly as Rufus but to basically the same effect, and he’s been scrambling ever since to accommodate her presence in the middle of his gritty, very-low-class, dangerous, anonymous existence as a spy and saboteur in the streets of St. Petersburg, running from his criminal record and Rittenhouse in one country and trying to blow up their operations in another. He’s had to devote time and effort to keeping her safe, fed, away from the police inspectors, un-frozen during the snowstorm, and otherwise in a functional state long enough to package her back to England in the first place, which by every respect, should be what she wants to do. What more does she want from him, his expression seems to say? When he’s gone to this much damn trouble to get her out of the frying pan, and she obstinately insists on sitting right in the middle of the fire?

They continue to eye each other for another extremely fraught few moments, Flynn staring down his nose at her as Lucy glares at him right back. Then he steps back. “I won’t hear anything more about this,” he says, “or I will have Anton throw you in the cargo hold.”

“Excuse me?” Anton looks mortally affronted. “You throw her in cargo hold yourself! Though if you try, I break your nose. Ignore him, Lucy. You know I never do such thing.”

“I know,” Lucy assures him. She’s tempted to tell him to break Flynn’s nose anyway, because it appears to be the only satisfaction she is going to get out of this, but she also just doesn’t want to have to look at him anymore. “Go on,” she snaps at Flynn. “Run out of here and leave your mess behind. Just like you always do, remember?”

He takes that in, and nods. Then he has the audacity, the sheer, ridiculous, unmitigated gall to grasp her shoulders in both hands, lean down, and kiss her patronizingly on the forehead. “Don’t worry,” he snarks. “We’ll be careful.”

“Right now, I honestly could not care less if you got yourself killed.” Lucy shoves him away from her with both hands. “So don’t strain yourself on my account.”

With a final evil look exchanged between them, Flynn stomps off, slings one last gun into his jacket, and jerks his head at his strike team. The Taylors, Gennady (with an apologetic glance at Lucy), and Karl form up behind him, Karl’s face also something that deserves to be in a museum, and they depart at speed. Once they’re gone, and the other gang members have scuttled out on their orders to make themselves discreet, Lucy’s strength abruptly runs out of her, and she sits down on one of the crates. She leans forward and puts her face in her hands.

“Lucy?” Anton hovers awkwardly at her shoulder. “I make you some tea?”

“No. I just…” Lucy remains where she is. “I’m done. I give up. Just take me back to England whenever the port reopens. I don’t know why I keep deluding myself, over and over, into thinking this has any chance of actually working.”

Anton pauses. Then he pulls up a crate next to her and pats her on the arm with a hand the size of a ham hock, in a clumsy but comforting gesture. “Flynn is horrible garbage goblin,” he says. “As I call him before. When he get back, I take him out and shake him very hard. You are very good lady, Lucy. Very strong. You give people chances when they not deserve. I am sorry how it is.”

“Thanks.” Lucy glances up at him. “I was thinking. Do you and Gennady want to come back to England with me? We’ll probably need to rescue our other friend, her name is Jiya. Rufus and I can’t pull it off by ourselves.”

“Lady needs rescue?” All of Anton’s Prince Charming sensibilities appear to have been activated on the instant. “Yes, of course we go. Flynn can think about poor life choices alone.”

Lucy snorts, feeling a little better. For his part, Anton does not juggle, but he offers to sing her a long Russian folk song, which Lucy graciously allows to hear a few stanzas of. He can’t really sing, but it’s sweet, and when he admits that he can’t remember any more of it, she thanks him and goes over to see how Rufus is doing. He has been watching the entire thing with the expression of an audience member at a blockbuster film, and glances up at Lucy with a look wondering if she’ll explain or he has to ask. Finally he says, “So, that whole married-for-ten-years argument, that was interesting.”

“That’s not what happened there.” Lucy feels her cheeks starting to heat. “And it seems to be how most of our meetings end up. With the arguing, that is.”

“Yeah, I see what you were saying about it going back and forth. Flynn seems like a real winner. I mean, it’s not like you got to pick who else in this world was going to be fighting Rittenhouse, but are you sure he’s worth the hassle?”

Lucy doesn’t answer, fussing unnecessarily with the burlap sacks that are serving Rufus in poor stead as blankets. Then she says, “Whenever the St. Petersburg port opens, we’ll get out of here. I’ll take you to London, I’m pretty sure Ada would be happy to put you up in her house. I’m not sure what I’ll do about Oxford. Maybe finish the rest of the semester, then leave.”

Rufus glances up at the tone in her voice. “Doesn’t sound like you really want to.”

“No,” Lucy says quietly. “No, I don’t want to. I’ve loved it more than anything. The city is magical and beautiful, my students are such interesting and passionate young women and I’ve been able to teach them things that nobody else has even thought about. I’ve gotten to have something like a normal life again, not just endlessly fighting and jumping through time. I’ve gotten to have roots again. A place to stay. Yes, well, I’ve inadvertently scandalized most of the faculty and students, but they got used even to that. But it would be beyond selfish for me to keep doing that, and leave you and Jiya and Ada and Wyatt and Flynn and everyone else to fight Rittenhouse, when what they’re doing here could change all of reality. I can’t sit out.”

Rufus looks at her with hesitant, uncertain sympathy, before he reaches out to take her hand, and they hold tightly. Lucy wonders if she should tell him about the revenant and the possibility of it being Amy, but decides that can come later. They have enough to deal with at present, and she doesn’t feel like Rufus would be all that enthused at the news of a murderous shadow monster stalking her heels. Instead they wait. And wait.

As the rest of the morning drains by and the afternoon goes equally slowly, Lucy – despite her resolve to stay mad at Flynn at least until he gets back – starts to worry. She paces and stares at the door, listening hard every time there are footsteps passing outside, fighting a swoop in her stomach every time they continue on without stopping. The distant sound of wailing klaxons aren’t helping her nerves either, and she isn’t sure if that’s related to the Rufus investigation or some entirely new calamity. Finally she says to Anton, “How long do you think it would take? Just to raid Sibley’s office, and leave?”

“If it was only that, not so long. But if they are caught, have to run for it, shoot way out, maybe longer.” Anton looks anxious as well, though he is clearly trying to keep his chin up for her sake. “Maybe clerk hurry and tell someone that he had to give up address, they have people waiting in case of attack.”

Lucy feels suddenly and unforgivably naïve that she didn’t think of that possibility. After all, she is the one who sent Flynn there, the one who gave him the information and told him that she didn’t give a rat’s ass if he got killed or not. A thick, sludgy feeling of horrible guilt crawls through her gut, making her swallow hard and stop in her tracks. “Oh God, is he – is he going to think I set him up or something? Led him purposefully into a trap?”

“Don’t know that is what happened,” Anton points out. “They could just have to take very long way back. Or hide out. Or – ”

At that moment, he is interrupted by the sound of footsteps that are very definitely coming this way, and he snaps into action. He shoves Lucy down on the sacks next to Rufus, heaves several fully loaded crates in front of them as a makeshift barricade, and draws his gun, pointing it warily at the door. Trying to peer out around the crates, Lucy waits, heart in her mouth, as the bar rattles and it swings open. If it’s the police, if it’s Rittenhouse – if it’s somehow worse, if it’s the gang with Flynn or without him and he’s not –

“Down!” a familiar voice says, sounding alarmed. “Bloody hell!”

“Karl?” Anton (and Lucy) stares at the bedraggled remnants of the strike team: Karl himself, the younger Taylor, and Gennady, all of them looking extremely bloody and dirty and grim. The older Taylor and Flynn aren’t there. “What in fucking hellfire – excuse my very bad language, Lucy, please excuse – just happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened.” Karl wipes his filthy face on his arm, throwing down his spent revolver. “It was a trap from the start, that’s what it was. Guess the telegraph clerk ran off pronto to tell his Rittenhouse bosses to expect company, so that’s what they did. We got to Sibley’s office, went inside, and five minutes later, full house assault. John Taylor’s dead, they had to shoot him six times before they finished him off. We managed to hold our position inside the office for hours, but they called in more reinforcements. They got the boss, they dragged him away. Still alive the last time we saw him, they’ll want to grill him for information. The three of us barely made it out of there with our skins.”

A ghastly, stomach-churning silence falls in the wake of those words. It’s about as bad as it possibly can be – in fact, it’s worse. Rittenhouse has Flynn, they took Flynn prisoner, they’re definitely going to torture him in hopes of making him talk. Even if (as seems likely) he won’t, there is no scenario whatsoever in which they let him go alive. He has caused them too much trouble, and they have been hunting him for too long. If they chose to sell him back to the British government, they could ask for whatever political concessions or special powers they wanted in exchange, when he is the most wanted criminal in the entire United Kingdom and the egg has progressively accrued on the face of Gladstone’s government and the Metropolitan Police as they failed to catch him. Rittenhouse can do anything they want with Flynn, and get everything they want in return. Catastrophe barely does this justice. And Lucy – inadvertently, but still – sent him straight into the jaws of the trap.

“Oh my God,” Lucy says at last, which is impossibly inadequate, but is the only thing she can think of. There’s no choice, there’s no alternate option. “We have to save him.”

As far as predicaments go, Garcia Flynn has been in – he is sure – worse ones than this. But admittedly, just at present, they are not coming to mind.

He has taken a serious pounding, he’s fairly sure he’s been shot at least once by the stabbing pain in his leg, and he is well aware that he is, to put it gently, fucked. He was dragged off by the police and whatever local rented thugs Rittenhouse has acquired, hit a few more times when he kept fighting, and his ear is ringing in a way that means it might have taken considerable damage. Now he is crammed into some tiny, bleak holding cell, and his odds of getting out are very bad. He has a confused impression of seeing at least one member of the gang down – he thinks it was a Taylor – and the rest scattered. He doesn’t know if they got away. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, if they made it back to Lucy or not, if she –

Lucy. That thought hurts the most of all, and given his present dismal state of repairs, both mental and physical, that is saying a lot. He tries to roll onto his back, grunts as his back registers its extreme objections, and remains where he is, half-sprawled on his side in the darkness, like a dangerous animal thrown in a cage. His cheek is sticky with blood where it presses to the metal, and there’s a rattling sound in his chest where he breathes. Rittenhouse isn’t going to get much sport out of hurting him, at this rate. Well, he’s sure they will anyway, because they’re the worst and they’ve been waiting long enough that they’ll take full advantage. But –

Did Lucy know? Did she send him there on purpose? I honestly could not care less if you got yourself killed. Was that the warning, and he missed it? Flynn is well aware that his behavior, over the general span of their acquaintance and then again today, has been far from exemplary, and perhaps she finally axed the entire ill-fated experiment of their collaboration for good. But why after it was almost working, and why especially after last night? Was it a vindictively cold-blooded move to get revenge on him for turning her down? That would be callous beyond belief, something that Lucy, for all her fierceness, doesn’t seem to intrinsically possess. And it wasn’t – that wasn’t what he – he knows and he doesn’t, it is tangled and twisted and raw, wrapping around him like a strangler snake, and he can’t breathe as it tightens.

Last night, lying next to her in bed, with her soft and warm and nuzzled into his side, looking at him with those big dark eyes as he told her about the Raven King… even now, Flynn’s stomach turns over at the memory. It took every inch of his self-control not to grab her, to roll her over beneath him and bear her down into the mattress, take her until there was no space or separation left, but he has never in his life touched a woman like that and there is no way he is going to start now. Not with her, not in the least. She deserves someone who would come to her with gentleness and care, someone younger and less shop-worn, who could devote himself to nothing but making her happy. Self-evidently, a widowed forty-three-year-old ex-monster hunter crime boss, international fugitive, and ruthless anarchist is not that man. Not with the ghost of a murdered daughter that shrieks in his nightmares, and a quest for vengeance that – well. Was probably always fated to end up like this. So he sabotaged himself, he pushed her away, he set out to viciously prove to himself that she would never want him. In that, at least, he has spectacularly succeeded. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? Burning it all down?

Flynn works his tongue gingerly around his mouth, testing for broken or missing teeth. They seem to be still in place, though they ache like pieces of red-hot iron in his jaw, and this is not an unqualified blessing. He doesn’t see much point in struggling to get out of here. He can’t, clearly, and there will just be more of them on the other side. He has never cared about the odds or the number of enemies before, but now, he is finally too tired to keep fighting. He’s old enough to know that he can’t take an unlimited pummeling, and he needs to save what strength he does have. For what, he doesn’t know. Dying with dignity?

Some indeterminate time passes. Flynn wanders in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he thinks he sees shadows bending over him, once he swears he feels the brush of Lorena’s hand on his face, the distant echo of Iris’ laugh, and wonders if this is some new torment the revenant has cooked up, if it’s drawing closer in the dark, come to feed on him by insidiously making him forget, in fits and starts, that they were ever gone. To believe, to hope, to want, and then wake up, and relive the loss all over again.

(Lucy. He feels horribly guilty, and he doesn’t think he should want it, given as there is still the possibility that she deliberately betrayed him, but he keeps looking for her among the phantoms, and she isn’t even there.)

After some while, Flynn is aware of the cage being lifted, moved, loaded onto something and wheeled along with bumping jolts. His captors appear to be taking him somewhere. He can hear them talking in an indistinct blend of Russian and English, but his bruised, feverish brain is not up to the task of interpreting both at once. The walls of his prison are solid steel, so he can’t see out, and they are clearly taking no chances with his escape. He has to remain curled up in more or less a ball, since he is a big man and it is a small box. There is a large barred slit overhead for ventilation, and also presumably for them to toss food in from time to time. He wonders if they’re going to do that, or make him beg. They are in for an unhappy surprise if so. If this is the end, he’d rather just get it over with.

Flynn can smell coal smoke, and what sounds like the hiss and click of iron wheels on track. At that, he blurrily realizes where they must in fact be taking him. Whether if it’s a more convenient interrogation point away from prying eyes in the city, or they have something more spectacular planned for him, or want to demonstrate their success in building his railway to the tsar – why not? Out in the winter wilds, out in the depths of nowhere, no one will ever see him again.

“Matija.” The word is a hushed croak, all Flynn can get through his aching throat. He has a sudden memory of when he was a boy – he doesn’t remember exactly how old, seven or eight – passing a fence post with a raven painted on it, GK scratched beneath. The way he had a sense that as long as he stood on that exact spot, the boundaries between the worlds were thin as silk, clear as glass, and he might take another step on the path he had walked a thousand times and find himself lost in Faerie. The way a cloud passed over the sun, and he looked up and saw a flock of ravens winging on the wind. A meaningless coincidence, his father would have insisted. Asher Flynn, born Aleksandr Kovačić, a young idealist who changed his name and moved to the West in hope of making a fortune, then returned home to Šibenik as an angry, disillusioned atheist with a young American wife, a drinking problem, and eyes that always burned like dark coals. Flynn doesn’t remember being so scared of anything in his life as he was of his father’s eyes when they were angry. Not even the grimmest monsters (small wonder he ran away to join the hunters at age fifteen) of the darkest woods could compare.

“Matija,” Flynn whispers again. “Matija Korvin. The woods are yours. The sky is yours. The night is yours, and so too the morning. The hedges are your gateways, the stones your servants. In the earth you plant your staff, in the green you spread your roots. You are the branches upon which your children rest, and the wings on which they fly. I am only a servant, kneeling before the King. I call you from the dark, and I offer you my fealty.”

It’s a very old prayer, and he’s said most of it in Croatian because that’s how he learned it from his grandmother Katja, a formidable and bitter old crone who scared the children away from her house in the village and was constantly suspected (not without reason, Flynn thinks, Iris had to get it from somewhere) of being a witch. She was never impressed with Aleksandr for moving to the West, nor for bringing home Maria Thompkins, and spent most of her time making her daughter-in-law’s life miserable for not knowing how to cook and speak the language and otherwise instantly absorb the habits of their ancient town on the Adriatic coast. Flynn has complicated memories of her, to say the least. But Katja Kovačić was not about to let her grandson grow up without knowing his culture and his heritage, and the proper prayers to the King, the one he was never supposed to tell the priest about. She gave him that, at least.

“Matija… Korvin.” You’re supposed to call him three times by his full name for the proper effect, Flynn remembers. There is another bump and jolt, and it feels as if his cage has been loaded onto the train. He hears a piercing whistle, feels a gust of frigid air, and knows it is only going to get colder. He is actively struggling to maintain consciousness, and feels the dark tugging at him with alluring, relentless hands. “Matija… Korvin…”

Not a damn thing, so far as he can tell, happens as a result. He feels ludicrous, trusting in old wives’ tales and children’s stories for his deliverance, when he might as well have asked the cage to spring open of its own accord, for all the locks to unbind and the train’s engine to spit bolts and shut down. Technology does not tend to work in the places where you find the marks of the raven. Flynn closes his blood-crusted eyes and lets his head drop onto the floor. He cannot remember a time, recently or perhaps ever, when he has felt so utterly, desolately empty.

Once more, the whistle sounds. The train starts to move. The wheels click on the track, he can sense St. Petersburg dwindling behind them like a dream lost on waking, and so, Garcia Flynn begins the long, last journey to Siberia.

#timeless #timeless ff #lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #starlight & strange magic #steampunk au #garcia flynn human disaster #(who is surprised not me)

[climate-bison]

Rating the Assassin’s Creed games

I often to rank the assassin’s creed series in my head but I thought it would be fun to write it down for a change. I’ll start with the games I like the least and move towards my favorite games in the series. Please note that if you disagree that’s totally cool, I’m not judging! We all have different opinions. I haven’t played all the games so I list them first. Some spoilers but I try to be as vague as possible!

Games that I won’t be including: all AC on the Nintendo DS, AC Unity (on my list to play), AC Origins (also want to play), AC Vahalla (I’m currently playing but I’m not far enough along to rate it, although I like it a lot so far), AC liberation, and any non main series games

9th place: Assassin’s creed 1. I disliked this game a lot. The gameplay was repetitive, the stealth was annoying, the combat was clunky, and it crashed often. I only made it through about 80% of the main story before the game crashed and destroyed my saves, and I didn’t want to replay the rest of it. Altair wasn’t a character I connected to very much, which isn’t a huge negative, not all characters will work for all people, but it is why this game is at the bottom of the list. 2/10

8th place:  Assassin’s creed Revelations. This game is leaps and bounds better than AC 1, but it still falls short for me. I disliked the environment because I found it difficult to see things and the minimap was nearly useless. Combat was okay, not great but it was faster. I also disliked the random people who would try to murder you. The story wasn’t very interesting to me, I was really sick of Ezio by then. I did enjoy the conflict that Desmond had with his past lives and the conclusion with Lucy. 5/10

7th place: Assassin’s creed Rogue. This game is difficult for me. I love the location, I’m Canadian so I’m kinda a sucker for Atlantic Canada. But god I hate the story. It is so lazy and short. Also sometimes they will play story mission dialoge when you are trying to explore the world and it gets really annoying hearing the same shit over and over again. I hated killing some of characters we had grown to love in the previous game. The sailing is fun, just like Blackflag. I enjoyed seeing Haytham again. I didn’t like Shay, his stubbornness drove me insane. 5/10

6th place: Assassin’s creed 2: This was the game that started me in the series. I had played a little blackflag, but I just sailed around while playing on my cousin’s save so no missions or anything. This game though was the first one I played through. The downsides of the game were that it gets pretty repetitive as you go along. Everyone is gonna disagree with me here but I didn’t really relate to Ezio. I liked him more than Altair, and way more than Shay, but I still found him kind of dull. I can appreciate his character growth/change throughout the series, he def. becomes more likable over time. 6/10 (prob because of nostalgia) 

5th place: AC Brotherhood. This game def improves on the last. The map is very interesting to explore and I enjoyed taking “outposts” (not sure if they are called that). I’m glad that they addressed one of the issues I had with AC2 in this one, being the ending *spoilers* where Ezio doesn’t kill the big bad for no reason, like you’ll kill a bunch of grunts who haven’t really done anything wrong, but the guy orchastraing it all you won’t kill like why??? *end spoilers* This game is my sister’s favorite and I can see why. Lots of missions and the addition of optional objectives make even more content to explore. 7/10

4th place: AC 4 Blackflag. Now we are getting into the top tier games (in my opinion). I loved this game. I like Edward a lot, he was a really strong character with heavy moral greyness that I enjoyed. He also got a lot of development, going from a money hungry pirate to a respectable and true assassin. This game improved on the sailing from AC 3 by huge strides. The environment was very pretty. Upgrading and customizing the ship was cool as well. I didn’t enjoy the underwater sections though, that being one of the downsides. Sleep and beserk darts were very entertaining and useful for stealth. 8.5/10

3rd place: AC Syndicate. Great game. I loved being able to play as a woman for once, even if the majority of story missions are for Jacob. Customization of weapons and outfits was cool, along with the perk upgrade system. Combat became far more interesting in this game, and less of mashing x until everyone is dead. I loved the environment, industrial London was super cool to look at and explore. I enjoyed the child liberation missions and gang outpost missions.  Going forward in time to WW2 was pretty cool as well, and makes me hopeful that they will make a game in a more near history, though I doubt it with the most recent games seeming to stay in the more distant past. Being able to crouch on command was great, I like playing stealthy so not having to find a bush to crouch was helpful. The final assassination/boss battle was a little weird but I didn’t hate it. Evie and Jacob were both really interesting characters, though I related more to Evie with her more cautious and thoughtful approach to things. I was also kind of a sucker for the romance between her and Henry Green. Their romance through the flower collecting quest was super sweet. 9/10

2nd place: AC Odyssey. I loved this game. I’ve played this game now three times and each time I’ve fallen more in love. I played as Kassandra both because I’m a woman and I like to play as a woman, but also because I find Alexios’ character model terrifying. The environment was beautiful. The finding her family story was great and compelling. Having mult. endings was a good touch with being able to decide what to say and do, it made the choices feel meaning full. Character customization was great, I was able to make the stealthy rogue/archer character of my dreams, all while carrying around a trident for when stealth fails and enemies close the gap. Also love the romance options, I’m gay so being able to date woman in a game while playing as a woman allows me to live vicariously through the character. Loved the number of sidequests, ie countless. I also enjoyed the overpowered god feeling that character had for 90% of the game. 10/10

And in first place on the list and in my heart: AC 3. This game is a masterpiece. The location and differing weather effects were cool. It was actually difficult to move through the thick snow. The twist with the character swap a quarter of the way through the game was crazy. Connor was and continues to be my favorite character in the franchise. He goes through so much, but continues on, continues to fight for his people because no one else will. If not him then who? Haytham was an interesting character and replaying it you can see some of the dark sides in his personality from the start and the twist remains believable but still surprising. Some people say that it glorifies the American side of the revolutionary war, but I disagree. We see multiple times that neither side of the war is truly good or bad, because nothing is true. At the end of game the Americans are celebrating the victory (the first 4th of July actually) and we see Connor looking over to a stage where some Black people are being sold as slaves. Shaun has some interesting commentary about how people use the founding fathers as sort of divine figures but that they were nothing but men. Men who did bad things, like owning slaves. The parallels with Connor and Haytham and Desmond and his father were also interesting. It was good to see Desmond resolve his differences with his dad before the ending of the game. I enjoyed the homestead part of the game (something I am also enjoying in AC Valhalla) because it allows for character growth. We get to see Connor enjoying his life and making friends. I was really glad to read that he ended up getting married and having children in his later life, contrary to what was being said about him dying young, sad, and alone. The game isn’t perfect (CONNOR GET BACK ON THE HORSE) but its a game that I will love for the rest of my life. 11/10

So that’s my rankings. Super long post I know. If you got this far, thanks for reading! I leave you with a quote from my favorite assassin, Connor.

“Sometimes standing against evil is more important that defeating it. The heroes stand because it right to do so, not because they believe they will walk away with their lives.”

#assassin's creed #long text post