#my family and i are having a seance for him tonight so I’m going to learn some Italian phrases i guess

[eyesocketinchworm]

Image ID: screenshot of the fictional character birthdays post by tumblr user gothdrool edited to say “ppl who celebrate renaissance artist’s death dates are annoying pass it on” with the reblog by cub2 saying ‘FUCK this post and sad may second leonardo da vinci”: End ID

#i miss him.. #my family and i are having a seance for him tonight so I’m going to learn some Italian phrases i guess #leonardo #ziggy speaks #Leonardo da vinci #art history #i am literally in class this is why i dont know shit about circles

[deejadabbles]

Hiiii friend!! wanted to request a spooky prompt number 6 and 😈 with Fives please and thank you!!

Hello darling!! Thank you for sending this in, I was very inspired the moment I read it so I hope you enjoy this 🤩 This one also got a little ~heated~ since Fives had officially become one of my faves 😏

How to Summon A Demon Boyfriend (Demon!Fives x GN Reader)

Summary: There's no such thing as demons, they're just something to use for cheesy cautionary tales...Right? Rating: M (Minors DNI) Word Count: 1,813 Warnings: Crappy 'friends', small injury and mentions of blood, reader gets a big scare but it's fine in the end I promise, heavily suggestive content. Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up  /// AO3

You really needed to learn to say no sometimes.

Tonight was supposed to be the perfect chance to curl up on the couch in your favorite PJs and coziest blanket. Instead, you were freezing your ass off in a dark playground, pretending to summon a demon like some bored teenager. 

Cam and you weren’t even that close, just work buddies, but that little voice inside your head had been yelling too loud: 'he was really sweet and invited you! You have to go! It would be rude not to!' Now you were annoyed with every moment of this silly little seance.

“Alright, I think that should do it!” said the cute blonde girl, who you didn’t know before tonight. You didn’t know any of Cam’s friends, yet here you were with them. “I think it’s a good little summoning circle, if I do say so myself!” She beamed down at the chalk drawing she’d sketched onto the area usually reserved for hopscotch. 

Then another one of Cam’s friends, a young man with dark hair fit for a punk band, voiced your own thoughts, “This is stupid, what makes you think we can summon a demon from some random book you found in a second hand store?”

“Dude, I’m telling you, if anything’s the real deal, it’s this!” Cam insisted, cautiously taking the book from the blonde and flipping a page, “I mean, just look at this!” He tilted it towards you and the punk guy, “The ancient looking paper, the notes and stains- plus, the store owner said she got it from her friend when he died and that his family was into all kinds of strange occult shit.”

You would admit, it was a very convincing tome, even if the demon summoning was all fiction, the owner had put lots of work into its design. You reached out to touch the edge of the page, to see if it really did feel ancient, but just as you did Cam moved as well and a sharp pain seared through your finger tip.

With a loud hiss and a curse you pulled your hand back, clutching it close to your chest.

“Shit- sorry!” Cam said, “Paper cut?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, taking a tentative peak at the now throbbing finger. It was leaking red, the skin around it looking angry, and you noticed part of the offending page was now stained with your blood too. Well, at least it added to the book’s authentic aesthetic. 

“Wow, didn’t know we’d be making blood sacrifices tonight,” the blonde said with a laugh.

“Happy to contribute,” was your sarcastic reply as you tried to soothe the throbbing. “Next time I-”

“Uh, guys!” Cam’s eyes were wide as he looked down at the book, “The words are glowing!” Then he let out a high pitched yelp, and dropped the book as if it had burned him.

With a loud thud, it landed on the summoning circle and that’s when you saw that the curving calligraphy on the pages were indeed glowing! Not only that, but the moment it touched the chalked symbols, the ground below you started to rumble unlike any earthquake you had ever seen.

Cam and blondie yelped as they fell to the ground together, you not keeping your balance for much longer, and punk kid only staying upright when he threw himself on a picnic table.

“What the hell is happening?!” the girl yelled, pulling the hood of her jacket up as if that would shield her from the horrors unfolding.

“You’re the ones who wanted to summon a demon!” Punk shouted, looking pale and ready to hurl as the ground continued to shake.

Then, within the circle, the already cracked and worn cement split apart. Chunks of it flew as old compacted dirt from beneath surged to the surface, making way for something else.

It wasn’t a man- “man” didn’t begin to describe it. Clawed hands reached towards the sky, lifting above a head of dark curls that did little to hide two large horns. Dark skin around tight muscles that flexed as he rose up from the earth, a bare chest with marks that might have been tattoos, and a blue kilt of some sort that made room for a swaying tail.

Paralyzed on the ground as you were, all you could do was watch with wide eyes as the demon stretched, and let out a roar of a yawn as if waking from a deep sleep. Then his eyes flashed open, revealing deep brown irises rimmed in red.

He scanned them over your little petrified group and, for some reason, your stunned brain noticed the dumbest little detail. 'Oh, he has a number five tattooed on his forehead. Wonder what that means'.

That’s when the demon pulled his lips back in a dastardly grin, revealing large fangs surely made to rip apart human flesh.

“Run,” he growled.

Somebody screamed. Someone else cried some sort of plea. But you couldn’t say anything, all noise dying in your throat as you rolled over and tried to scramble to your feet. Just as you started to, someone (Cam?) knocked into you and sent you tumbling back to the dirt painfully. Footsteps thundered around you and, looking up, you realized that the other three were already disappearing into the darkness as they ran, leaving you behind.

“Wait-” the pleading call was lost in the wind, just as something behind you took a loud step closer.

Somehow your brain was going a mile a minute and not thinking anything at all as you became painfully aware of the large, looming presence closing in on you. Body unable to move from fear, all you could do was listen as the demon let out a low, deep chuckle.

“Some friends you have,” he purred. “Leaving you here.” Something brushed along your back. “All alone.” Leaves rustled as he knelt above you. “With me.” Hot breath fanned against your ear.

A noise very close to a squeal left you as a hand grabbed your shoulder and rolled you over onto your back. You were face to face with the demon now, his arms caging you in on either side, his face hovering over yours, and still sporting that hungry grin as his dark eyes looked you over slowly.

“P-please don’t kill me,” it came out as little more than a wheeze, but at least you managed to say something.

That’s when those brilliant eyes snapped back to yours. There was a heartbeat of silence in which you went through a thousand different ‘this is the end’ scenarios in your head-

But then, the demon threw his head back and laughed!

It wasn’t a sinister, cruel laugh either. Instead it was light and, dare you say, joyful. The kind of laugh a loved one would make after you mentioned some inside joke or another. His broad shoulders shook and that tail of his swished behind him in a way that reminded you of a cat ready to play.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he gasped between laughs, “I didn’t mean to scare you that bad!” He leaned back some then, as if to give you some air, though his arms were still on either side of you. “See, that’s just a little act I do to give you humans a scare.” This time, the grin he flashed was playful and a little lopsided. “You have to admit, you kind of deserve it for yanking me out of my cozy little dimension. It’s a little annoying when you don’t expect to be summoned.”

You opened your mouth, now stunned in a completely different way, but no sound was ready to come out yet, apparently.

That didn’t deter the demon, though, his eyes searched your face when he said, “Course, I did want to scare off the others. Groups are always more annoying, and I kinda liked the idea of having you to myself once I saw how cute you are.”

The unexpected statement caused you to come back down from your fearful high a little. You blinked a few times, then found it in yourself to look him in the eyes more directly. You managed to stutter out a “Wha-what?”

The demon laughed again, a shorter one this time, “Wow, I really must have done a number on you, I’m sorry, mesh’la.” He held up a hand, though the black claws at his fingertips almost made you flinch. “I swear, I’m not going to kill you. Even if I was that type of demon, there’s no challenge in killing humans,” he winked, “you’re too soft and supple.”

Heat took over your face and you weren’t sure if it was annoyance, embarrassment, or something else. Probably a cocktail of the three. After a deep, steadying breath, you finally managed to say something more than a strangled noise or single word.

“So, you’re some kind of good demon?”

He shrugged those naked, now very distracting, shoulders. “Something like that. Mostly, I’m just here to fulfill whatever contract you want from me.”

“M-Me?”

“Yup.”

“Why me?”

The demon looked down at you with something…interesting in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite place even though his expression was still light. His hand slid down the ground beside your prone body, until it reached your wrist. He grasped it gently, lifting it to show off your still sore cut.

“Because your blood summoned me. You’re the one I’m bound to, sweetheart.”

Keeping his eyes on yours, he brought your finger to his mouth and closed his lips around the bleeding cut. You found yourself breathless again as a wet tongue ran over the little injury, soothing the ache in a way you didn’t expect.

He pulled your finger out of his mouth with a little pop, then turned that fang flashing smirk on you again. “See, you summoned me, now we make some sort of deal, a contract. You give me something and I give you something in return.” He placed your hand on his naked chest so he could pin his own by your head again. “Name’s Fives, by the way, and you are?”

After swallowing the sudden lump in your throat and not feeling any more calm after doing it, you introduced yourself in the firmest tone you could muster. The demon- Fives, repeated your name slowly, and you could see his tongue tasting every letter of it.

“Hm, I like that name,” he said and again, you caught a glimpse of the spade-tipped tail flicking at his back. 

You must have been more distracted by it than you realized, because he brushed the back of a claw down your cheek, before taking your chin in a firm grip to force your eyes back on his. When you did, his gaze seemed just a little darker.

“So, darling, what kind of deal do you want to make with me?”

Tag List @sev-on-kamino @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @commander-sunshine @dystopicjumpsuit @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @arcsimper5 @littlemissmanga @wings-and-beskar @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @moonlightwarriorqueen @briefartnaturewolf @kimiheartblade @littlemissbshine @funeralreunion @chubbyhedgehog @ladytano420 @trixie2023 @mssbridgerton @wizardofrozz @vithepotato @mythical-illustrator @loving-the-cambridges

#fives x reader #fives x you #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x you #demon fives #halloween prompts #halloween fic #clone x reader #tcw x reader #deeja writes

[fandomsnstuff]

Im bored so here's the first two scenes of a fic i may or may not end up writing

Dirt and gravel crunch as the car pulls into the trodden-down parking lot of the Pinemeadow Village Church. Lup and Barry get out and walk to the wooden double doors. Pulling them open, they’re welcomed by warm lighting, hardwood floor, and the original carved pews all facing forward to the altar. 

“This is cute,” Lup says, letting the doors fall closed behind them. 

“Where’s Merle?” Barry looks around, “not many places to hide around here.” 

Lup cups her hands over her mouth and calls, “Merle!” Getting no response, she tuts and walks up the aisle. She hops up onto the altar and cups her hands again, facing the ceiling, “Meeerrrrleeee!!!” Looking around, she sees a door off the side of the sanctuary. She opens it to see a set of stairs going up, and a set going down. Vaguely remembering Merle saying something about living quarters in the church, she shouts into the stairwell, “Merle! We’re here! Better get down here soon, or we’re gonna start digging up graves!” 

A faint call of “don’t!” travels down to her. A few creaks of aged wood and old man noises later, Merle’s in front of her. “You can’t dig up bodies before I’ve even started the damn job.” 

“Then you should know better than to leave a few bored necromancers alone with an accessible graveyard. We don’t want a repeat of The Incident.” 

“That was one time,” Barry says indignantly. “It’s not my fault the spirit gave me the wrong plot. They wanted their watch. I was doing a good thing.” 

Lup snickers and walks over to give him a kiss on the cheek, “I know, babe. I jest.”

“So what do you think?” Merle asks. 

“It’s nice,” she says. “But more christian than your usual deal. What’s up with that?” 

“Sounds like they haven’t been able to keep a guy for the last while. Something about it being haunted.”

“It’s a 100 year old church with a graveyard,” Barry says, “of course it’s haunted.”

“So you didn’t invite us over because you miss and love your family, you just need our services.” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

Lup puts a hand to her chest. “You wound me, Merle.”

“Will you do it though?” 

She rests her arm on Barry’s shoulder and leans against him. “Yeah, why not.” 

“What kind of presence are we talking? Spiritual? Demonic? Apparitions? How many are there?”

“I dunno, I didn’t ask.” 

Barry sighs. “Of course you didn’t.” 

“I don’t know shit about ghosts! That’s your thing!” 

“We’ll have to come back later tonight with proper equipment,” he says. “Do you have a spare key we can take? It might help if you’re not here either. We don’t know how they might feel about you.” 

“Yeah, I got one.” He crosses back to the door to the stairs and pauses, turning back to them and pointing an accusatory finger, “and don’t raise any dead while I’m gone!” 

~

“I’m gonna head to the basement if you want to try upstairs.” Lup holds a hand in front of her candle so it doesn’t flicker out as she turns to talk to Barry. Using bright white flashlights is a mistake the big-shots always make. There’s a reason rituals and seances are done with candles. 

“Sounds good,” he says. The church sanctuary has offered them nothing of note tonight. It’s a shame, because it’s ripe for a haunting. But they’ve been in here for an hour and need to move on. They should try the graveyard later, too. And if they don’t find anything tonight, they’ll just have to try another night. 

She walks carefully down the old creaky wooden steps, the flame of her candle flickering with every move. She holds it up once she reaches the bottom, it’s a big stone room that’s been retroactively split in two. The first half, where she stands right now, is a Sunday school room. A little table and some small chairs, a bright carpet to soften the concrete floor, and boxes of toys and art supplies. 

“Is anyone here with me?” It’s cliché, but Lup’s never found a better way to start these things. “My name is Lup. I’d like to talk to you, would you like to talk to me? …You don’t have to show yourself, but can you give me a sign that you’re here?” 

Silence. None of the teddy bears so much as twitch. She walks to the door that leads to the other half of the basement. This side is storage, shelves and boxes packed with decorations, choir robes, old church records, and god knows what else. She steps over the threshold and her candle flickers violently. It’s promising.

“Are you in here?” She takes another step, and her candle flickers again, much more than it physically should. “You can stay hidden, if you want, but you don’t have to. I’m here to help you.” Another flicker. “I can’t imagine how lonely it must be down here.” The candle goes out. She inhales sharply at the sudden darkness, and blinks a few times to let her eyes adjust. Then, behind a shelf near the back of the room, she sees a faint white glow. “Hello?” She cautiously walks forward. As she gets closer, the glow’s shape becomes sharper, more defined. The spirit of a young girl in a nightgown with curls falling around her shoulders peers out from behind the edge of the shelving. She couldn’t be older than four or five. Lup smiles softly, swallowing the pang in her chest that always comes with the spirits of children, “hi there.” The girl shrinks further behind the shelving when Lup takes another step forward, so she stops. “Hey, it’s alright,” she crouches to put her candle on the ground, then sits. “I won’t come any closer, okay?” The girl peers back out at her, her eyes wide. She’s coloured in greyscale, as all spirits are, but Lup could swear her eyes look like two different shades. “My name is Lup.” 

“I know,” the girl says softly. “I heard you.” 

Okay, good. This is good. Not only did the spirit appear, but she’s talking. “What’s your name?” 

“Mommy says I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers.” 

Lup bites her lip, thinking that one over. “Well, your mommy’s very smart to tell you that.” If she can’t get a name, she’ll try for something else. “Where is she?” 

“She left.” 

The poor baby. “Oh, I’m sorry. That must’ve made you sad.” The girl shrugs, her eyes cast downward. “What about your dad?” 

“I don’t like him.” 

“Why not?”

“He’s not very nice.” 

“Oh…” she doesn’t really want to ask the next part, “did he hurt you?” 

The girl is quiet for a long moment, Lup sits very still. “He’s not very nice,” she repeats, softer. 

“I’m sorry,” she struggles to find something to say. “I had grownups who weren’t very nice to me when I was little too. I know how bad it can feel.” 

“No you don’t,” she whispers. 

Damn it. Fuck. Rookie mistake, Lup. Saying you know how they feel when they’re dead. Though she still can’t tell if this little girl knows she’s dead or not. She decides to change the subject. “Why are you hiding in here? There’s lots of nice toys out in the other room.” 

She looks up at Lup, then past her to the door. She casts her eyes down again. “They’re for other kids.” 

“Well I’m sure they wouldn’t mind-”

“Lup!” 

She startles as her name is suddenly called. The girl’s head snaps up and her eyes are wide. “Who is that?” she asks, her voice quiet. 

Fuck, she’s scared. Lup tries to placate her, “it’s just my husband. His name is Barry, he-”

She whimpers just as the glow of Barry’s candlelight starts to fill the room, and Lup flinches as her own candle suddenly bursts back to life beside her. When she looks back to the shelf, the girl is gone. 

“Lup? You find anything?” 

She tuts, picking up her candle and standing. “I did, but you just scared her away.” 

He cringes. “Sorry.” 

She shakes her head. “It’s fine, let’s go,” she shoves him lightly to get him to step back out of the room. She’s about to close the door but hesitates with her hand on the knob. “I know I don’t know your name,” she says into the room, “but I’ll come back another night and we can talk more, alright? We won’t be interrupted.” She waits for a beat. Two. Three. There’s no response, so she closes the door and heads for the stairs. 

#taz #blupjeans #barry bluejeans #lup taz #lup taaco #i wrote this a few months ago but yeah #my fics

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

Day 2 of Jeankasa Smut Week 2021: First Time

"In the moonlight"

Ao3

Before they move out for college, Gothkasa takes Jean to the place where she wants them to have their first time.

Disclaimer: This contains explicit smut. Please make sure to practice safe sex.

Jean pulled up to her driveway at six, sharp. She didn’t like to wait long for dates, so he always made a point of showing up in time. Some of his friends always made fun of him when it came to all the things he did to keep her happy, but Jean didn’t care. Those guys would never even stand a chance to date someone as smart and beautiful as Mikasa Ackerman.

Besides, it wasn’t like she demanded to be spoiled to be happy; in fact, Mikasa was surprisingly easy to keep happy.

That was why he made an extra effort to keep her extra happy. A woman like her was not one to be left waiting, a woman like her deserved nothing but sweet, honest words and actions, presents, quality time together.

“Kirstein, I can’t believe you went ahead and got it,” she said as she stepped out of her front porch. She looked as lovely as ever, with her dark eyeshadow, pink cheeks, and purple lipstick. Today, she had her hair loose, which cascaded down her shoulders, dark as a raven’s wing.

Her clothes, however…Jean had to force himself not to stare. She wore a short, sleeveless dress that only reached her midthighs. The rest of her legs, she’d covered with pretty black stockings that were almost see through. On her neck, she wore a lace collar, while her collarbones and chest were exposed.

“I-of course!” Jean said, shaking his head to keep himself from staring. “We’ll be in college next month, won’t we? I thought this would be a good way to move around.”

They were going to move in together to an apartment in Trost in only a couple of weeks. Jean would’ve married her right out of school, but his family and her parents had insisted on holding off until they lived together for at least half a year to start thinking about long term commitments.

“I can teach you to ride it,” he said as he climbed off the motorcycle and offered her the purple helmet he’d bought for her.

Mikasa smiled when she took it. “How can I pay you back?”

Jean smiled back and put a hand on her waist to pull her closer. Her lips met his readily, welcoming and sweet. “Just keep looking pretty.”

“I was thinking about another type of payment.” She said, looking up at him with serious eyes. “Something that involves my body,”

“Stop teasing,” Jean cleared his throat, suddenly feeling hot in his face, but Mikasa’s lips were on his before he said anything.

He welcomed her mouth, parting his lips so she could put her tongue inside him, and sighed in delight when she put her arms on his shoulders and pressed herself to him. His hands went to her waist, and then to rest on her buttocks. When Mikasa pressed the spot between her legs on his thighs, Jean squeezed her butt in his large hands, feeling his dick grow inside his pants.

“Mikasa,” a sweet voice said from the door. She stepped away from him, turning to see her mother standing on the doorstep. “Honey, you forgot your backpack. And stop making out on here while your father’s inside.”

Mikasa took the backpack from her mom, and they exchanged a tiny smile. “Hello, Mrs. Ackerman.”

“Hi, Jean, darling,” the woman said, giving him a sincere smile. “That’s a nice motorcycle.”

Jean scratched the back of his head, smiling awkwardly. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“He bought it himself,” Mikasa said in a complicit tone of voice.

“To get yourselves killed, I’m sure,” her father said, showing up at the door with a newspaper in his hand and a frown. “Hey, Jean, how are you tonight?”

Jean cleared his throat; he always felt like a little kid when Mikasa’s parents were around. “I’m good, sir, how about you?”

“I’m concerned about you two, thanks,” Mr. Ackerman said, then his eyes went to the motorcycle. “Are you two going out in that?”

“We’ll be fine,” Mikasa said, standing on her tiptoes to give her father a kiss on the cheek. “Dad, we’re eighteen. Jean has a permit. We’ll be alright.”

Mr. Ackerman wasn’t satisfied with her words. “How far are you two going again, Jean?”

“It’s the sea festival,” Mikasa explained, going down the steps and walking back in Jean’s direction. And again, Jean forced himself to not stare at the swaying of her breasts as she went towards him. She must’ve been wearing one of those flimsy lace bras she loved so much; heavens, how much he longed to see how it looked on her (although he knew she surely looked fantastic).

“All the way to the beach?” her dad said, his eyes wide. A second later, he was shaking his head. “No, you’re not going in that to the beach.”

“Dad, we’re moving out in a month,” Mikasa said. “We’ve been on a motorcycle before.”

“If it’s a festival, people are going to be drunk on the way back,” he told her. Mrs. Ackerman was looking at her husband with a gaze so sweet, Jean wondered if he and Mikasa should just head out and let them be at peace. “And you’re not even using pants. What if something happens? You’re going to get so injured—”

“Dad,” Mikasa said, walking back towards her parents. “What do you want me to do?”

Mr. Ackerman peeked into the house for a second before giving her a pair of keys. “Take the car. Also, don’t get drunk.”

Mikasa took the keys and looked back at him to shake them questioningly, and Jean nodded in agreement. He loved her too much to say no to her, and besides, her father had made plenty of valid points. As much as he wanted to take her out on a ride on their new motorcycle, he didn’t want to risk her getting hurt. He loved her too much.

__________________________

Mikasa looked out the window for a moment, noticing the full moon peeking through the trees as they moved away from the city and into the highway. Taylor swift was playing on the radio, and she smiled when Jean started to sing the lyrics to Paper Rings in a low voice while moving his head to the rhythm. He was untangling her earphones, which she’d buried deep in her bag that afternoon, when the very last bell had rung to let them know school was over.

“That lipstick of yours is good,” Jean said absent mindedly. “It didn’t even smudge when you kissed me.”

“It smudges when you get your mouth really wet,” Mikasa said, casting a glance at her boyfriend. He wore a silly pair of trousers today, but the fabric of the pants wasn’t as thick as Jeans would’ve been, and Mikasa had felt the bulge in his pants when they’d kissed.

He wanted her as much as she wanted him, she was sure.

“So, how’s Eren?” Jean asked, giving her a sideways glance.

“He sent me a picture today,” she said, dipping a hand in her back to bring out her phone. “Look it up; he and Armin climbed the volcano today. Armin roasted marshmallows on the way to the top.”

Jean put his fingerprint against the home button, and the phone unlocked. They had access to each other’s phones not out of insecurities, but simply because it was easier that way. Things were ridiculously easy with him, and she adored that. She loved the quiet, peaceful certainty that she was loved by a man whose feelings would not change; she loved that she could love him back as intensely and as weirdly as she wanted, and he would not judge her for it.

“Hey, Armin’s face is all red, and he looks like a dumbass,” Jean chuckled, pointing at Eren. “They go to the islands next, right? It looks like they’re on vacation, though. Aren’t they supposed to be helping Grisha on his expedition?”

And to think she’d considered him annoying before. Mikasa smiled, then gave Jean another look.

“What is it?” Jean asked as she turned to look back at the road.

“I’m glad the charm didn’t work,” Mikasa said, recalling that repellent charm she’d given him on their first year of high school, in which he’d incessantly tried to get her to go out with him. She’d found him annoying, incredibly annoying, but they’d been young. Now, they were proper adults. Well, now they were both eighteen, and things had changed.

“What charm?” Jean asked, confused. “Did I buy you the wrong things?”

Mikasa shook her head, smiling more. He didn’t only not judge her interests, but also took an active part in them, he was interested in everything she did, and she was pretty sure he’d had a conversation with the great god of the underworld during one of their full moon seances. He was also smart, and he could stay in silence with her for long periods of time without feeling uncomfortable.

And wickedly handsome, especially now that his hair had grown a bit, and there was a stubble adorning his chin. He’d also grown taller. It all made him look more like an adult, and Mikasa trembled at the thought of being held by his muscular arms.

She clutched the steering wheel and took a deep breath, trying to not let her nerves get the best of her as she turned right, into a stretch of road she’d scouted weeks ago, a little while after Jean had asked her to live with him after school finished.

“This isn’t the exit, babe,”

“I know,” Mikasa said, turning on the headlights. The road was quiet, and the only sources of light were the moon and headlights from their car. They drove in silence for a little while until the road stopped abruptly in front of a thick stretch of forest. Mikasa parked the car in front of the trees, turning off the headlights.

“Mika, this isn’t the way to the beach,” he said, staring at the forest ahead. “What are we doing?”

“Jean,” Mikasa said. “Kiss me?”

She never had to ask twice when it came to kissing. He always said yes when she asked, he always did it enthusiastically. When his mouth met hers, his kiss was sweet, slow. But Mikasa didn’t want that. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, making him moan against her lips. She rubbed her tongue against his, moving it in circles as she caressed his hair.

“Mikasa,” Jean whispered, looking at the rearview mirror as she kissed his neck. “What if someone sees us?!”

“No one will see,” Mikasa said, then reached out to adjust the seat he was on. Jean fell backwards, kissing her nonstop. Her hands went to the zipper of his pants, searching in the low light.

“Mika!” Jean said. “Someone might come.”

“Yes, you will come, in my mouth,” Mikasa said as she searched inside his pants and released his dick. She gave his shaft a hard stroke; the light was too dim to see much, but she could feel it beginning to throb and harden in her hand. “Jean, let me make you feel good.”

Breathing heavily, Jean took a hold of her head and brought her lips back against his, and this time it was his tongue the one that was desperately playful. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then, yes,” he moaned. “Yes, please, do anything you want.”

Mikasa smiled and straightened again, giving his dick another rub before tying her hair back in a ponytail. The sole action of her tying her hair made his dick twitch wildly, and it also made Jean groan from deep within his throat. She leaned forward, rubbing his shaft both hands. Jean was tall, and she guessed that played a part in how big he was, but it never failed to turn her own, feeling his girth in her hands.

She licked the base of his dick, then her tongue made the sweet journey across his shaft all the way to the head of his penis. There was precum there, and Mikasa licked it off his skin. Jean groaned, one of his hands was on her butt, underneath her dress and already looking for a way inside her panties, while his other was rubbing the top of her head.

He was holding back, she knew. He always held back when she gave him head; she understood he didn’t want to hurt her nor make her uncomfortable, and she loved that sweet side of him, but now she wanted something else to accompany that sweetness.

Mikasa parted her lips and took him into her mouth. The first time she’d given him head, she’d almost choked on his dick by the sheer size of it, but that had been a month ago. Now, she was used to the feeling of his cock against the back of her throat; her body had adjusted to that huge piece of meat he carried between his legs.

This time wasn’t the exception. Mikasa brought her head down, feeling her chin opening further to allow him deeper inside, and made a sucking motion as she came back up. Jean was breathing heavily now, and she knew, from the throbbing of his dick inside her mouth, that he would reach his orgasm soon.

She pulled out the dick out of her mouth and went to give his balls a lick. She put them whole inside her mouth, all the while rubbing him. Jean’s groans became faster, but she wasn’t sure if that was because she had his balls in her mouth or because the hand inside her panties had found her wetness.

“I’m going to cum soon,”

Mikasa let go of his balls and put his dick into her mouth again; she went down and up on it, one hand squeezing his shaft, the other squeezing his balls as she sucked on him. Jean’s free hand hovered over her head, but he withdrew it a second later.

She knew what he wanted to do, but she also knew he didn’t want to overdo it. Mikasa smiled, his dick inside her mouth still. He was so sweet.

She pulled out to look up at him now that their eyes had adjusted to the dark. Her hands didn’t stop rubbing him when she spoke; she didn’t stop teasing the tip of his dick with her fingers. “Go ahead, Kirstein, you know you want to do it.”

Jean looked at her with reddened cheeks, his eyes full of pleasure and longing. “I don’t want to make you sore,”

“I’m giving you permission,” she said, coming back up to his mouth to kiss him quickly. “You can do it. Please, do it.”

Mikasa went back to pay attention to his cock, and this time, when she opened her mouth and took him inside her, Jean grabbed a handful of her hair in both hands and brought her down all the way to the base of his dick. Mikasa moaned as he moved her head up and down in sweet, but passionate movements. One of her hands went under her shirt, to stimulate her already hard nipples. She crossed her legs, feeling a delicious throbbing between them. She wanted him so badly.

“I’m going to cum,” he groaned deeply. “Come up here, I need to cum. I’m gonna fill your mouth otherwise, Mika—”

Mikasa shook her head, and continued sucking on his cock. He didn’t take long to finish after that; hot liquid spread in her mouth and deep down her throat, the taste salty and familiar. She could feel her panties sticking to her skin now; less than ten minutes of giving him pleasure and she was already soaked.

When she straightened again, Jean held her face between his two large hands. He leaned forward and kissed her, uncaring about whatever remains of his bodily fluids lingered inside her mouth. She’d discovered he was naughty in that regard, and he never refused a kiss after she’d given him head. “Now, it’s your turn,” he whispered, licking his lips in anticipation. “Lie back, I’ll make you come all over my face,”

Mikasa shook her head, giving him a shy kiss on the cheek. “Not here,” she said, unlocking the doors.

Jean blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a spot not too far. Join me,” she said, giving him another quick peck on the cheek. Jean smiled, and she knew he’d never refuse her. He adored her, he adored her with every bit of his being. And Mikasa adored him right back.

_________________

She held his hand as they walked through the forest, walking with certainty, certain of where she was headed to. Jean followed her in silence; he was used to her little seances and moon rituals in the woods by now…he’d even grown to enjoy them, although he hadn’t enjoyed that one time in which that scary voice had spoken to him.

The clearing was forty-five minutes away from where they’d left the car, and it was a beautiful place by the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean. It had the shape of an almost perfect semi-circle, lined with tall willows and a small creek running on the westernmost part of it. “This is a new place,” he said, recalling most of their midnight seances were in the woods by her mother’s shop.

“I found it a while ago,” she dropped her bag in the middle of the clearing, where the moonlight illuminated the stretch of tall grass perfectly. Jean walked towards the creek; he loved it when she found little pockets of nature like this, but he also didn’t like picturing her walking that stretch of woods on her own. “I was with Armin and Eren, don’t worry. They came with me,”

Jean sighed; at first, it had only been him the one able to read her like a book. She’d learned this past year, however, how easy it was to guess his thoughts. “This is cute,” he said, pointing out at a series of mushrooms growing on the sides of the creek. “The colors are—”

Mikasa pulled him back by the arm, shaking her head. “Don’t touch anything,” she said in an urgent tone. “They will be angry.”

“Who will?”

“The forest spirits!” Mikasa whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unsure which forest god or spirit she was talking about. He looked over his shoulder, smiling awkwardly at nothing. “I’m sorry!”

She giggled, leading him to where she’d laid out a thick blanket and a series of pink and red candles. There was a bottle of wine and chocolates, and some preheated pizzas “What’s this?” Jean asked, giving her a kiss on the temple, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Is this a romantic dinner for me?”

Mikasa smiled up at him; she was tall, but the more time passed, the more Jean grew, and now he was a full ten centimeters taller. He knew she didn’t like that cocky part of him, but Jean had to admit he liked being taller than her. “Sit with me, please,”

They sat in the middle of the clearing, under the candlelight and the soft silver light coming from the full moon above. Jean ignored the food and went for her lips; the purple lipstick was properly smudged after giving him oral, and Jean wanted to take the rest off with kisses.

“Jean,” she said, pushing him away a minute later. “Look at me,”

“I am,” he said, cupping her face with a hand. “What is it?”

Mikasa took a deep breath and, in the dim light, he was able to see her cheeks were of a deep shade of pink. “Tonight, I want you to make love to me here.”

Jean’s mouth fell open in shock. They’d started doing things other than making out a month ago, mind you, and he’d supposed they would make love the moment they finished moving into their new apartment. This request was new, a surprise he had not seen coming.

He’d showered, he’d shaved, he’d put cologne on…because he thought they would spend most of the night at the sea festival, and he wanted to look good while out and about with the most beautiful woman in the island.

“A-are you sure?”

Mikasa looked up at the moon, then back at him. “It is a perfect night.”

“Is this some sort of ritual?” Jean asked, suddenly concerned. “Mikasa, if you’re doing this just because of what those books say, I don’t want you to force yourself to do something—”

She put a finger against his lips, squirming and pressing her legs together. Her dress had gone up to her upper thighs, and from there he could see the wetness coating her pretty pink panties. “I saw this place and knew this is where it had to happen,”

“What are you talking about?”

Mikasa went to her knees, putting her hands on his shoulders, straddling his thigh. The feel of her soft skin was enough to drive him insane with desire. “Our first time,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him as she pressed her wetness on his thigh.

Jean had to force himself to think clearly. “Are you sure this isn’t some sort of ritual?” he asked her; he had fun joining her in her expeditions into the woods, but he’d never made love to another person. He wanted his first time with her to be special, he didn’t want it to be just the preamble to one of her moonlight rituals.

She lowered her face. “It isn’t a ritual. I want to make love to you, Jean,” she said, and he could almost feel the heat in her cheeks. “But I don’t want my first time to be in just an apartment. I saw this place, and I knew I wanted you here.”

“Why’s that?”

Mikasa lowered her head a little more. “It’s romantic,”

“And?” Jean asked, sensing there was still something she wasn’t saying.

Mikasa closed her eyes, her voice becoming lower even. “It reminded me of that Twilight scene, when they’re in that meadow…”

Laughter bubbled up in his chest, but Jean forced himself to not react loudly; she’d just admitted something embarrassing, and he didn’t want her to think he was mocking her. He grabbed her face with one hand, then chuckled. “You are so cute,” he said, using his other hand to firmly hold her against his thigh. He moved her back and then forward, and the rubbing motion made her moan out loud. “Mikasa, I love you.”

She blushed at that. “I love you too,”

“I’ll make love to you anywhere you want,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. “I just want to know if you’re sure. We can wait a little longer, you know? We can come back here when the moon’s full again. I can wait—”

She pressed her mouth against his, moving back and forth against his thigh, as if she were riding a horse. The wetness was leaking, dripping, he could feel it dripping onto the thin fabric of his pants. “I want you now,” she said, licking the corner of his mouth. Mikasa rubbed herself a little more on his thigh, and Jean didn’t even care about the wet stain she would leave in his pants. “I want you inside me now,”

Jean grabbed her by the waist with both hands now. “I want you too, Ackerman.”

He’d wanted her for so long, it almost seemed like a dream to be in her arms then. His younger self had only wanted to take her out for a bite to eat, that was that…think that she’d kissed him now, and she was asking for him to make love to her…Jean smiled widely as his hands searched her dress and lifted it over her head.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

“Holy fuck,” he said when he saw the lace bra she wore, which had intricate strappings that were tightly adjusted against her pale skin. The lace was transparent, and when Jean caught a sight of her pierced nipples, he almost came in his pants. “When…when did you get them pierced?”

Mikasa smiled; in the month they’d started doing naughty things, they hadn’t seen each other properly naked yet, and she was clearly amused by his reaction. “Just a little while ago.”

Jean ran a thumb over each nipple through the fabric of her bra, making her moan. “They look so fucking good,” he muttered, running his thumbs over the nipples again, loving the way they perked up and hardened. “Can I?”

She smiled at him. “It unclasps at the front.”

Thank god for that, Jean thought. It would be much easier to make sense of the straps that way. It was a sexy bra, there was no doubt, but Jean was a virgin still. He hadn’t mastered the art of unclasping bras.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, running his thumbs over her nipples, giving one of the little rings a pull, fascinated by her squeal. “Can I suck on these?”

Mikasa nodded, closing her eyes. She looked so beautiful, sitting naked on his thighs. Jean enveloped her pink nipple with his mouth and gave a little suck, feeling the taste of metal and sweat, fascinated by it. His girlfriend moaned, pressing her face against the top of his head, squirming even more on his thigh.

He sucked on it more, using his other thumb to stimulate the other nipple. “You’re perfect,” he whispered hotly as he moved from one breast to the other. “I could suck on these all night,”

Ah, he could. Her breasts were full and soft, and her nipples hard with the touch of his tongue. He wanted nothing other but to suck and lick them for hours and hours…but there was another spot that required attention, a spot he adored having on his mouth. Jean straightened and went to kiss her lips, teasing and squeezing her breasts and nipples the whole time.

“You’ve got purple lipstick all over your face,” she giggled, running her fingers across his mouth to wipe him. The purple was almost gone from her lips, but Jean didn’t care. She looked perfect with and without make up.

“You’ve got purple here, too,” Jean chuckled, giving her nipple another teasing, gentle pull. Indeed, he’d stained her pale breasts with some of the lipstick lingering on his mouth. “Lay back now,”

Mikasa climbed off his thigh and laid on the blanket, pretty and naked as the moon. Jean kneeled in front of her, running his long, lean fingers across her legs, caressing every bit of her body. She watched him with lust in her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly, seductively.

He placed himself in front of her legs and parted them, revealing her soaked panties. He could see the outline of her slit from how wet she was, he could see her throbbing. His dick was hard in his pants, and all he wanted was to be inside her.

“You’re dripping,” he said, running a teasing finger alongside her slit. Mikasa shivered at his touch. “Can I take these off?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

Jean removed her panties painfully slow, enjoying the anticipation that grew in her face. She was so cute. “I’m going to make you cum now,” he informed her, parting her legs even more. “I’m going to lick you until you cum all over my face.”

“Jean,” she panted, closing her eyes. “Stop teasing me,”

He smiled wickedly, admiring the pretty color of her wet pussy. He gave it a tentative lick, running his tongue from bottom to the top of it, pressing the tip of his tongue on the pleasure bulge he’d touched in the dark before, when their kisses had turn into touching. Mikasa moaned loudly, and Jean was sure that they would need to get some sort of soundproofing for their apartment.

“You taste so good,” he moaned before burying his face in her wetness.

He’d learned to please her through trial and error the past month, but now he knew how she liked her clit played with, he knew what movements to do with his mouth to have that delicious juice of hers spill out of her pussy and onto his face.

Jean found the little bulge of pleasure and spat a little on it, then he enveloped it with his mouth and sucked. Mikasa drew in a breath, and a lovely moan escaped her throat. Jean sucked on it a little more, teasing the entrance of her pussy with his fingers as he gave her sweet nipples a tug and a squeeze.

He buried his face in his pussy, enjoying her taste, her scent, her sweet moans. Giving her oral was a feast of senses he would never tire of, and now they wouldn’t stop at just giving each other oral, or touching each other. Tonight, they would go all the way.

Jean moved his tongue with more intent, and introduced his index finger in her slit, just a little. She moaned louder; with his thumb, he made the same circular motions on her nipple as the one he was doing on her clit with his tongue. The juices were piling up on his face, and she was already dripping onto the blanket she’d laid out.

Jean straightened, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Mikasa looked up at him, her eyes demanding, telling him to get back to what he was doing. He smiled at her, giving her nipple a little tug. “Just a second,”

He took off that ridiculous looking yellow vest his mother had forced him to wear (to cause a good impression to her parents) and then he unbuttoned his shirt, certain he would get soaked if she kept leaking the way he was. Then, he came to his feet, struggling slightly with his pants and underwear. As he did so, however, he saw her rubbing her clit as she watched him, while her other hand was busy tugging on her nipple the way he’d been doing it before.

Jean leaned forward again, moving her hand away from her pussy. “Let me do it, please,” he said in a hoarse whisper, burying his face again. “I love eating you out.”

His tongue flicked over her clit, and his finger went back inside her. He ate her out hungrily, like a man who had not drank a drop of water in years. He didn’t even know where his movements came from; he acted on instinct, guided only by her moans, and Jean liked to think he did it well. Mikasa grabbed him by the hair, lifting herself off the ground and moaning loudly.

When she came, Jean opened his mouth as much as he could to catch all the wetness. And once his thirst had been satiated, he used his tongue to clean the inner part of her thighs.

She was breathing heavily by the time he came back up to kiss her, and she welcomed his lips without any qualms or protests. “I’m ready,” she panted, her cheeks of a bright red, her nipples hard against the skin of his chest. “I’m ready now, Jean.”

“Wait, protection—”

“I’m taking pills,” she said, then pointed at her bag. “There are condoms in the bag.”

“Very resourceful,” Jean said, smiling flirtingly. She’d known what she wanted to do tonight, and he had had no idea. He loved it, but still, Jean wished he could have prepared mentally for it.

He leaned forward, kissing her while his hand massaged her clit, making her wet to take him inside. This was the girl he’d loved for so long; this was the woman he wanted to be with forever. When he said he wanted to marry her, some people said he was young and that the world was larger and had many more women out there waiting, but Jean didn’t care about other women.

This woman was the one he wanted, the one that filled his soul with warmth. He was young, but he was so, so in love, he didn’t want to imagine anyone that wasn’t her. He wanted to love her, spoil her, he wanted to please her as much as he could.

Jean stopped kissing her suddenly. As good as he’d gotten at giving her oral, he had no experience with actual sex. Heavens, he’d barely held on for five minutes when she had sucked him off in the car. She was wet, but he knew he was well endowed. What if it hurt her? What if it hurt her and he only managed to last a minute?

He would never be able to look at her face again.

“Jean,” she said in a low voice, cupping his face between two hands. “Do you want us to wait?”

“Wait?”

She gave him a shy smile. “You look scared,”

Jean smiled, exhaling as he neared her neck to kiss it. “I want to make you feel good.”

“I know. And you are.”

“What if I’m not good?” Jean said, looking at her in the eyes. “What if I only last a minute? Mikasa touch me, I’m about to burst—”

She lifted her head and kissed him, her hands finding his dick and giving it a long, hard rub. “I’m new at it too,” she said, massaging the nape of his neck.

“I want to make you feel good. I’m scared I won’t,”

Mikasa frowned for a second, then considered his words for a minute. “I don’t care,”

“Huh?”

“If the first time isn’t good, we can do it again,” she said, using her sweet hands to rub him more, bringing all the blood back to his cock. “And again…”

“And again,” Jean finished saying, smiling. Mikasa nodded, then ran her hands across his torso.

“I’m ready,”

“Alright,” he said, parting her beautiful legs. The moon shone down on her, almost making her pale skin glow under the silver light. Her face, her shoulders, her neck and ears, it was all red, and she was heaving in anticipation. Jean rubbed the head of his dick against her entrance, and more wetness came out of her slit, making delicious, lustful noises. Fuck, she was so hot. “Tell me if it hurts, please.”

Mikasa nodded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Jean kissed her mouth, then pushed inside.

_____________________-

She’d decided this would be the place in which they would make love weeks ago, on an expedition with Armin and Eren to find a good spot to watch the yearly meteor showers. Armin hadn’t liked it, since there were so too trees blocking the view and there was too much humidity that would put his telescopes at risk.

Mikasa had loved it, though.

And during the weeks leading up to the end of school, she’d dreamed about having him naked in the meadow. After reading about how the full moon increased sexual arousal, she’d determined that the festival night would be the perfect night to do it for the first time, before they left to live in the bigger city.

She hadn’t told Jean because she knew he would freak out the days leading up to it, and instead had decided to study her best to be prepared for the night. Yes, she had read books about first times, and she’d mentally prepared herself for the pain, for the awkwardness of it all.

So far, it had been perfect. But Jean had that beautiful, special talent to make her feel at ease and comfortable anywhere.

Jean went into her slow, his eyes locked on hers as he made his way inside her. Mikasa’s body opened to give way to him; there was a bit of a stinging that came with it, but it was nothing like she’d read in books.

In most romance books, the female lead always described losing her virginity as painful and uncomfortable, but there was nothing painful about Jean entering her. There was a bit of a discomfort and pressure at first, but it was soon overshadowed by the wetness, by his fingers rubbing her clit softly and slowly.

“You are perfect,” he whispered, kissing her forehead and then her lips. She heard her skin connecting to his, and knew that all of him was deep inside her.

“I love you,” Mikasa whispered, holding onto him with both arms.

“I love you too,” Jean replied with a smile, then kissed her again, his tongue rubbing hers. His mouth fell open.

“Can I start moving?” Jean asked, his mouth falling open, his breath erratic. She could feel him twitching inside, she could feel his girth spreading her open, adjusting her muscles to his size.

“Please,”

Jean thrusted into her slowly, pulling back and coming back down with his eyes on her, on the gentle swaying of her breasts. Soon, he pressed his mouth to hers, and then he went looking for her nipples. She had wanted to get them pierced for a while, and she’d done it as soon as she had had the chance and money. She hadn’t told Jean, however. She’d wanted it to be a surprise.

He sucked on her erect nipple, while his hand rubbed her clit with those circular motions she loved so much, and Mikasa cried out in pleasure. His cock was rubbing up against every nerve ending inside her and, sending waves of pleasure across her body.

She ran her hands over his back; he’d grown more muscular this past year, and she adored the feel of his hardened body underneath her fingertips. Her hands landed on his chest as he thrusted in and out of her, and Mikasa gave his nipples a little pinch, like the ones he’d been giving her tonight.

Jean groaned in pleasure and went faster, sending a bit more pain across her lower abdomen, which Mikasa ignored. She propped herself up on her elbows and caught one of his nipples in her mouth, sucking it the way he’d sucked hers.

“Fuck, Mikasa,” he said, and she looked up at him. Jean caught her mouth with his, and both of his hands went to cup her face. “I…need to cum…soon.”

His face was completely red, and when Mikasa squeezed his nipple once more, Jean rolled his eyes to the back of his head in pleasure. “Stop, please,”

“Why?” Mikasa moaned, kissing his neck. His thrusts were faster; she could tell he was still trying to be gentle with her, but he was failing at holding back.

“I’ll cum…I’ll finish too quick,” he grunted, reaching her neck to give kiss her.

“Why is it bad?”

“I haven’t even lasted ten minutes,” he said, grimacing. He wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer, she thought.

“We can try again,” Mikasa replied.

“But, I want to give you a good impression and—”

So, Mikasa leaned forward, burying her face in his neck, and gave his skin a long, gentle suck that didn’t help him at all in holding back.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and started going faster; this wasn’t love making anymore, he was fucking her now, fucking her fast, fucking her hard. Mikasa buried her fingernails in his back, then moved onto another spot in his neck to give it a little suck.

“You’re mine, Kirstein,” she said in a low voice, feeling all the pleasure accumulate inside her loins. Two of his fingers were still rubbing on her clit; but it was obvious he would reach his climax before her. “You’re mine, are you not?”

“I am,” he moaned, his voice a mixture of lust and love she’d become addicted to.

“Then, do what I say,” she whispered. He was fucking her so good, so, so good, but it was clear he wouldn’t withstand it for much longer. They were eighteen; they had their whole lifetimes to make love to each other. “You can cum now, Jean.”

Jean thrusted three more times before he released all his pleasure; he moaned low against her ear, and she felt his cock throbbing inside her as he came. When he became very still and his breathing steadier, Mikasa held onto him, running her hands across his hair, enjoying the feel of his half-hard shaft inside her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a while in silence. He lied on his back to stare at her, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment when he looked at the watch on his wrist. “Fucking hell, not even eight minutes? I’m a loser, I’m—”

Mikasa went to lie on his chest, hugging him. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” Jean said, wrapping her body with his muscular arms. “Mika, if you don’t want to see me again, if you don’t—”

She perked up, narrowing her eyes. “Why would I not want to see you again?”

Jean flushed again. “I was a disappointment,”

“I had already come once,” she said, giving the corner of his mouth a little lick.

“Yeah, but you made me come twice,” Jean said, closing his eyes. “I’m a disappointment. So, it’s okay if you want to break up,”

“It’s not a competition, Jean. And you’re overthinking things again,” she said, lying on her side, running her fingers across his nipples. She noticed how her touch made the little hairs on his arms stand up and smiled a little more; she’d found a weak spot. “I don’t want to break up…”

Jean sighed, relieved. “I swear I’ll make it up to you,”

“…I want to get married,” Mikasa finished saying easily. His mouth fell open, but the way she rubbed his nipples was enough to make him struggle at keeping his focus. She smiled again; it was mean to tease him like this, but she loved her Jean flustered, and hard…and she could see his cock beginning to twitch and throb again.

“You want to what?”

“Get married, Kirstein,” she said, leaning into him to kiss his lips. Her hands went to take off the condom they’d used, and she gave his shaft another rub, uncaring about the semen spilling down her hand.

“You are so naughty,” Jean muttered, looking down at his cock at the same time as she did. He looked back at her, with an excited glint in his eyes. “Do you really wanna? Get married, I mean?”

Mikasa nodded, pressing the tip of her finger to the tip of dick, from which all the precum was leaking out of.

“I’ve been wanting to marry you for a whole year,” Jean laughed, and Mikasa smiled back at him. She knew; she’d seen him looking up for engagement rings online. He hadn’t been precisely discreet about his intentions of spending the rest of his life with her.

She adored that.

“I want to make love to you everyday.”

“We can do that no problem,” Jean said, kissing her temple.

“And I want to make babies with you,” she said, sitting up and straddling him. Jean’s hands went to her nipples again, and she guided one of his hands towards the wet spot between her legs. Now, he was properly hard. “We need to be married to make babies.”

“We-we’re so young, though,” Jean stammered, and Mikasa leaned forward to kiss him, arranging her hips so the tip of his cock was pressed against the entrance to her body.

“Not now, Kirstein,” she said, giving him a bunch of tiny kisses on his stubble. “Now, we’re going to practice until we get passed those eight minutes.”

Jean chuckled, and she was glad to know he was past the initial embarrassment. “We need to put a condom on, then,”

“I want you raw,” Mikasa kissed him, then lifted her hips to bring herself down onto him. There was a bit of a stinging that came with having him inside again, but Mikasa welcomed it gladly. She liked how big he was, she knew it would bring her more and more pleasure the more they made love.

“Mikasa!” he protested, but he couldn’t bring himself to push her off him. “Your dad is gonna kill me if you get pregnant…fuck, that feels good.”

She moved up and down, slowly, getting used to the feeling of riding him. “You’ll finish outside. We’ll get a pill,” she said, brushing his lovely light brown hair away from his face. “Right now, we’re going to practice.”

“How much practice will I get tonight?” Jean asked teasingly, making her smile.

“A lot,” she said, kissing his lips. “And then more tomorrow, and the next day, and so on.”

“You’re my dream girl,” he said, whimpering against her lips in both happiness and pleasure. “I want to marry your right now,”

“We already are for all I care,” Mikasa said, pressing her body against his and starting to jump, finding a rhythm at which she could ride him comfortably. He was just so big. She didn’t need any sort of papers to know this was the man she wanted, nobody else. She’d been confused for a while before, but now things were as clear as the naked moon in the sky. He was hers, and she was his. And absolutely nothing would change that fact.

#Jeankasa Smut Week #Jeankasa Smut #jean x mikasa #Jeankasa #First time #Jeankasa Smut Week 2021 #Jean Kirstein #ao3 #smut #fanfiction #JeanMika #Mikasa Ackerman #escritos

[giorno-plays-piano]

Rx Queen

Pairing: criminal!Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Warnings: obsession, stalking, non-con, breeding, minor depiction of violence.

Words: 2567. 

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes was the most difficult patient you had ever treated as a criminal psychiatrist. His release from prison doesn’t make things easier for you. 

_____________________________________ 

You turned off the phone and threw it on a chair, clenching your teeth. Whatever Dr. Strange wanted you to do, you wouldn’t stay another day in this goddamn place, waiting to be abducted or even murdered. It was too much. Today you found the new bottle of your favourite perfume on your nightstand. It wasn’t there before you went to bed last night. In fact, you could hardly remember the last time you bought yourself a perfume.

It all started two months ago when James Buchanan Barnes, the patient you had been working with during those seven long years, was finally released from State prison after serving 15 years of life sentence. The Soldier, as prisoners called him, once gone mad and murdered his commander. Bucky – that’s how he asked you to call him during your first seance – had PTSD, antisocial personality disorder, and severe depression. You could say he became better after all those years of treatment, including insane doses of antidepressants and mood stabilizers, but it was not enough to set him free. He was dangerous, psychotic even, yet devilishly clever: he knew how to portray a man who had reconsidered his life choices and deeply regretted taking someone’s life. 

You knew he had never truly cared. Patients like him did not have capacity for remorse.

You started treating him once you became a criminal psychiatrist; Bucky was among your very first patients. Now when you thought of it, you could hardly believe Dr. Strange just transferred a patient like him to you, a young girl with too little experience to handle an unpredictable psychopath hiding behind a façade of a victim. Of course, you made many mistakes, starting from telling Bucky about your own past and some mental issues. That time you believed you can gain trust of your patients by being more open about yourself. You were a complete idiot.

Now there was not much to do once his time in prison was up. You didn’t have true evidence to make him stay. A part of you wasn’t even sure you wanted it – when a riot had started in the prison three years ago, it was Bucky who shielded you with his own body from Brock Rumlow, a serial killer and your second most dangerous patient. Bucky was the only reason you were still alive.

But he was also the reason why you were leaving in haste, packing only necessities. 

It all started quite innocently with him sending you flowers and thanking for everything you had done for him. It didn’t alert you that he knew what your favourite flowers were. You thought it was just a coincidence since bouquets like these were sold in any flower shop in the city.

Then you stumbled upon him in a café where you often had your breakfast on weekends. It could alert you, but Bucky was sitting with a charming red-haired woman, her manicured hand resting on his thigh. She didn’t quite strike you as his sister, especially since you knew he had no relatives left after his violent father died in a car accident. Seeing such a beautiful woman with him just two weeks after Bucky was released from a prison was surprising, but you knew how seductively charming Barnes could be. Besides, he looked really good in his biker jacket, his tight black jeans showing his strong muscular legs.

In the end, you just talked to both of them a little and gave your advice on which dishes to choose. You walked away, praying you were wrong about Bucky and hoping he could settle peacefully like some of your former patients. Actually, even though many of them were imprisoned again, others were able to return to normal life. Some even had families now – from time to time you received thank-you notes with nice photos and many heartwarming words. It was probably one of the few things that made you keep your job.

It was over now. You were not going to stay in a place Bucky break into multiple times. Maybe you were not sure before, but the bottle of perfume was an obvious sign. It also meant that when a week ago you woke up and smell a man’s scent on your sheets you were not delirious. Bucky was there. He was laying beside you on your fucking bed.

How did it happen? Why didn’t you see his obsession growing with each day? You were his psychiatrist; you knew him better than anyone. How could he hide his infatuation with you for so long? Of course, you knew he had some feelings for you, but it was never that bad. You thought he would forget about you once he would be released. In the end, now you were not the only woman he saw around.

You kept stumbling upon his beefy figure more and more often. You realized Bucky was stalking you when after a month of his release you saw him watching your house from the forest. He was hiding behind the trees and bushes. It was a miracle you managed to see him at all – after 15 years he was still the Soldier, his skills remaining keen.

You tried talking to Dr. Strange. It wasn’t your first time being followed by your former patient, and police had always assisted you. But Barnes wasn’t like any of those stupid psychos who left tons of evidence behind them. Police had nothing to work with.

Well, you weren’t going to sit there and wait for Barnes to come and get you. You had no idea what was going on in his unstable mind, and you weren’t ready to take risks. You had already booked a flight to Austria tonight.

It was scary, thinking about wandering around a city you had never been, in a foreign country where you had neither relatives nor friends. But Barnes would have a hard time following you there, and that’s what mattered.

You threw a pack of salted cashew in the bag and returned to the bedroom to grab your phone from the chair. It wasn’t there. Although you dropped it just five minutes ago, your phone simply wasn’t there.

You were so fucked.

Next minute you were in the kitchen grabbing a knife, but a strong muscular arm knocked it out of your hand, and you felt Bucky’s musky scent. He stood behind your back, caging you with his bulky arms. You froze and held your breath. You knew you better obeyed the man instead of provoking him to become violent.

“And where were you going, honey?” His husky voice was enough to make you tremble. “It’s not nice to leave without saying goodbye, is it?”

“Please, Bucky.” You did your best to hide how frightened you were. “Stop.”

“No, honey.”

He leaned closer to you and buried his nose in your hair, inhaling its smell. His rough hands were already caressing your body through the clothes.

“You’re free to start a new life. You can find a good woman, have a family if you’d like.” Panic was rising in your chest. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“No, Bucky, it’s not.” You said in a calm voice. “It will only get you back behind the bars. Don’t throw away your life, please.”

“What life?” He growled, turning you around harshly, and you almost fell on his chest, his arms holding you still. “I have no life. I should have never left my cell, you know this better than anyone else. I’m rotten. Damaged goods. I will never have the life I’ve always wanted. Do you know I have nightmares every fucking night again?”

“It’s because you don’t take your pills.” You carefully put your hands against Bucky’s chest. He tried manipulating you, you knew that. “When was the last time you had thioridazine?”

“Stay with me, and I’ll take whatever pills you want me to.” He grinned suddenly, cupping your face. 

Bucky’s strong athletic body emanated heat, and you were already sweating from both his closeness to you and an extreme agitation. Why did it take you so long to leave? You should have done it the first thing in the morning, just grab your documents and money and run to the car. Maybe then you had a chance. Unless Bucky had already been hiding inside your house…

“Why do you want to make a wrong choice again?” You felt his heart beating loudly with your palm against his chest. “You are given a chance to start over. If you want me to consult you still, I can figure something out. I can continue helping you, but you need to find your way. Don’t you think it’s good to meet new people, have friends, find a job, date a girl?”

“Who wants to deal with a psychopath like me?” He let out a chuckle, his expression darkening. “No one can handle me, doc. No one but you. Do you know I wanted to commit suicide before you showed up seven years ago? If not you, they’d already buried me.”

Before you opened your mouth to protest, he turned you around again and gently nudged you towards your bedroom. You broke out in cold sweat. If Bucky was able to outpower Rumlow, that beast of a man, he would have no problems forcing you to do whatever he pleased. It took three strong prison guards to bring someone like Bucky down. You were helpless.

“No one out there is good enough.” His breath was tickling your ear. “You’re the only one, can’t you see? Maybe I’m rotten to the core, but you still helped me. You made me better.”

You stopped in front of your bed, the white cotton sheets and blue blanket crumpled. You stormed off early in the morning once you saw a bottle of perfume on the nightstand and didn’t care to make your bed.

You needed to keep calm. As far as you could see, Bucky didn’t plan to murder you, not when you would accept him, that is. He obviously had a nice plan how to make you stay with him without police knowing, but as long as he kept you alive you still had a chance. You needed to play along.

“On the bed.” He let out a low growl, and you felt the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass.

Shivering, you took off your slippers and sat on the bed facing him. His erection was obvious; Bucky was breathing heavily, his pupils dilated. The next second he was pulling his black t-shirt over his head, and you saw his shredded body littered with scars. You saw one particularly long one on the side close to his waistline: this was the one Rumlow gave him when Bucky was protecting you during the riot. The man let out a quiet laugh when he saw your eyes focused on a nasty pink line.

“Why are you frightened, honey? I know you want a family too. You good-for-nothing ex wasn’t able to give it to you, but I can.” His hands landed on your bared shoulders, and you flinched a little. “Let’s get married, and I swear I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

“Bucky, relationships don’t work like this.” You whispered, withholding a cry when his hand pushed you down on the bed. 

“Don’t they?” The man smiled and cocked his head to the side, removing his black leather belt. “You do something for me, I do something for you. That’s what I learnt in prison.”

You dragged yourself back as quickly as you could, but your back was pressed into the wall once Bucky put his knee on your bed. There was nowhere to run.

“Don’t be scared, honey.” His sweet voice broke the silence, and he crawled to you, slowly caging you with his bodyweight. “Let’s make a deal. You marry me, you bear my child, and I will return to prison. I don’t care if they’ll give me twice more pills or make me a lethal injection as far as you take care of my kid. You’ll love my kid, won’t you? You’ll take care of them. You’ll make them a better person than I am.”

The more he spoke, the more feverishly he touched you, his left hand pinning your palms above your head. He traced his arm along your breast, ripping your shirt with so much force that its green buttons ended on the floor. You realized your cheeks were wet with tears when Bucky kissed you on the forehead and wiped your face with his other hand.

He wanted to have kids with you. Why? Why you? Why did he consider you a perfect mother? Why did he consider returning to prison? Why was he ready to trade his goddamn life for a chance of having a child? Why couldn’t he have a child with someone else and just keep living?

Oh, of course he couldn’t. Bucky loathed himself. It wasn’t uncommon for the patients with Cluster B personality disorders, and it was probably true he wanted to end his life since you saw his self-destructing behavior. In the end, even his effort to save your life back than in the prison might be some kind of a suicide attempt. 

And the reason he wanted you and no one else… Well, you were the one who had been taking care of him all these years. The only one to navigate him through his nightmares when everyone else gave up on him. He saw good in you. He wanted it for himself. He wanted to make sure his child would never be treated the way he was.

You cried out when Bucky suddenly forced his cock into you. It felt like he was ripping you apart – he was huge. Your eyes flooded with tears again, and he cooed at you softly, pressing his chapped lips to your burning face. You couldn’t even remember when was the last time you had sex since you broke up with your ex a year ago. Thankfully, Bucky gave you time to adjust. He kept whispering filth into your ears and stroking your naked thighs. When did he take off your jeans?..

He kissed the top of your head, playing with your hair, and moved his hips slightly. You hissed in pain, but then realized it was a bit better – the pleasure started building up slowly, and you squeezed your eyes shut. No, no, you were not disgusting, your body tried to cope the best way it could, nothing else, it was a perfectly normal reaction, you knew that. Then you felt Bucky licking up the shell of your ear and whined desperately.

“It’ll be ok.” He whispered and kissed your temple. “I’ll take you to a nice place, and we’ll be there all alone. Once I make sure you’re pregnant I’ll return to prison, I give you my word.”

You bit down on your lip to muffle the noise coming out of your mouth.

“If they keep me alive, I might become your patient again.” He sounded almost ecstatic, rutting deep into you. “I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll stuff my mouth with your pills. Please, just stay with me.”

Staring at the white ceiling, you bit your tongue so hard your mouth filled with blood. You’d survive this. You’d get him behind the bars again. 

You wouldn’t stay.

#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes

[justatiredghost]

January Rain by the Sea Part 5

In a life of misery, the ocean is the only place Klaus has ever felt any sense of peace or belonging. He finds himself drawn here whenever it all gets to be too much

-

Klaus was trying to be careful, not wanting to tighten the net wrapped around Dave more than it already was, but his pocket knife wasn’t particularly big or sharp, causing him to have to saw at it roughly for longer than he’d like. It was a little awkward, especially with Dave watching him with a guarded look that was nothing like how he’d looked at him earlier that evening.

“So, what’s the story, then?” Klaus asked, desperate for anything to talk about. “Do you get dressed up and go swimming after dark like this often? Or—”

He reached out, planning to snap the waistband of what had to be a fake fishtail, but he touched his hip where tiny scales began, only to find that they really were sprouting from his skin. The detail was too precise, just a scattering before they became full overlapping scales that you’d expect on a fish. He couldn’t imagine anything fake holding up against his squirming and thrashing, being dragged across the sand as well as the coarse ropes of the netting. It had even damaged the tail in some areas, and there was no faking the rope burns or the bleeding. Or the way his tail curled that legs and knees couldn’t.

“Did you really expect it to be fake?” Dave asked, trying to hide the hint of a smile despite himself.

“Huh,” Klaus said. “This isn’t how I thought it would go, but I always knew the drugs would kill me eventually. Am I having a stroke or something?”

“I don’t think that’s how strokes work.”

“So you’re not a hallucination, then?” Klaus asked, studying him through squinted eyes in mock-suspicion.

“If I say that I am, what are the odds I get out of this alive?” Dave asked, turning grim again.

“Woah, woah,” Klaus said, raising his hands. “Who said anything about dying?”

“I mean,” Dave said. “Despite how I looked earlier, I’m not exactly human. Most people would be more than happy to sell me out.”

“Fame and fortune?” Klaus asked, waving a hand dismissively as he went back to cutting through the net. “Yeah, been there already, and I’d rather never go back.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna let me go?” Dave asked skeptically.

“I mean, yeah,” Klaus said. “Kidnapping isn’t really my thing. I mean, what am I supposed to do with a whole ass human? One that’ll have to live in a bathtub too. Besides, pretty sure everyone’s just looking for an excuse to lock me up. Can you imagine what would happen if I started going around telling everyone Merfolk are real?”

“Oh,” Dave said. “Um, thanks.” It didn’t exactly look like he believed him, but there was at least enough doubt that he didn’t look so hopeless, so that was nice at least.

“Just to be clear, though,” Klaus said, hoping to get him to relax. “You are the same Dave I met earlier, right?”

“Yeah?” Dave said, looking confused by the question.

“Okay, cool,” Klaus nodded, and he finally managed to untangle his tail, which Dave stretched cautiously, either because of his injuries, or because he didn’t want to accidentally smack Klaus, which he appreciated. “You can never be sure with these kinds of things.”

“I want to ask what you mean by that, but I’m afraid to know the answer.”

“Probably for the best. I’ve lived a wild life. Now, can I—“

He gestured to the net still wrapped around his chest, trapping his hand, and Dave nodded after a moment. His eyes fell closed as Klaus drew in close, his breathing finally seeming to calm.

“So,” Klaus said, trying to keep the conversation going. “When you said you had a thing tonight, you meant a fish thing?”

“Yeah,” he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure how much he should give away, and Klaus figured he should probably change the subject to something less personal.

“What about that trap you set up for your boss? How did that go?”

“Oh, it worked,” he said, chuckling more out of surprise than anything. “Thankfully, he doesn’t know it was me, otherwise he’d have sacked me immediately. Not that it matters now.”

“Way to be cryptic,” Klaus said, finally slicing through the last of the rope and throwing it to the side. “What does that mean?”

“Just—“ Dave said, avoiding eye contact as he rubbed life back into his numb arm. “It’s probably about time I moved on.”

“Hang on,” Klaus said. “You’re not leaving because of this, are you? Because it’s really not that embarrassing. I’ve done way worse stuff, ask anyone.”

“I don’t know. I’ve done some pretty stupid things, I’m honestly surprised this is the first time someone saw me. Just, I can’t have anyone knowing who I am.”

“Well, now I feel bad,” Klaus said. “I don’t care. Can you use your Mer-powers to wipe my memory?”

“I don’t— I don’t have any mind wiping powers,” Dave said in confusion.

“Oh well, worth a shot,” Klaus shrugged. “My sister could make me forget probably, but that means telling her, so we’ll just be right back where we started with someone knowing.”

“Your sister?” Dave asked, shaking his head. “I really can’t tell when you’re joking or not.”

Usually, Klaus went out of his way to never mention his family or the Academy. Unless he thought it might get him into an exclusive club or a discount or something. But he knew Dave’s secret, and he honestly did want to reassure him, maybe share a secret of his own so he wouldn’t feel so exposed. Klaus really had no idea what had gotten into him, he wasn’t this honest with anyone. This guy just felt so familiar, so right, that he found himself not caring about his usual caution. So he decided to keep going.

“Oh, I’m not kidding at all. She’s the Rumor. She got the fun power, I just get to listen to ghosts screaming.”

“I assume that’s supposed to mean something to me, but for the life of me, I have no idea,” Dave said, just looking more and more confused.

“Seriously? You’ve really never heard of me?” Klaus asked. “The Seance, the sexiest and most fun member of the Umbrella Academy? Where have you been living, under a rock?

“Kinda,” Dave admitted with a chuckle. “But the Umbrella Academy does sound familiar. That was the thing with the superhero kids, right? You were one of them?”

“That’s one way to but it I guess,” Klaus grumbled. “Way to make it sound incredibly boring.”

“And you said your power was ghosts?” Dave asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t think ghosts are going to be able to help us here. Not that I could hear them right now, even if I wanted to.”

“This has been one of the most wild conversations I have ever heard, and you’re the one who just found out I’m not human. How did that happen?”

“I told you, I’ve lived a wild life,” Klaus winked.

Klaus dug around in his pockets until he found what he was looking for and held it up in victory. He’d forgotten he had a spare joint, although now it was incredibly soggy. “Aha, I do have one left! So, are you gonna chill here and smoke with me, or do you need to head out on very important Mer business?”

“You’re gonna smoke that?” Dave asked, skeptically.

“It’s only a little damp,” Klaus said. “I just gotta dry it out first.”

“Right, well, good luck with that,” Dave said, turning away towards the ocean. “And thanks. For saving me.”

“Hey, it’s whatever, am I right? Just don’t make a thing out of it,” Klaus said, flopping onto his back and staring up at the stars. “I’d offer to walk you home like a real gentleman, but I’m not a gentleman, and also I imagine there’s a bit less walking and a bit more swimming involved.”

“Goodbye, Klaus.”

Klaus waved without looking, digging his toes into the sand. He must have taken his shoes off when he jumped into the water, he needed to remember to grab those, but at least this felt nice right now. He didn’t even hear Dave splash into the water, the next time he looked up, he was just gone. For some reason, a wave of melancholy washed over him as he was left alone on the beach. What was up with him, lately? He really needed to smoke this joint.

#Klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klave #klaus x Dave #tua mermay 2021 #umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #fanfic #january rain by the sea #my fic

[lesbianmarth]

it’s been a while since i posted about aa but i just finished soj in its entirety tonight. here’s my new list so far

i still have to give thoughts on cases 4 5 and dlc so that’ll be under a cut. spoilers!

6-4: this was such a filler case, almost shamefully so. i don’t know why they thought they could manage to do this in the 4th case when every game with 5 cases has been pretty consistent about making the 4th case plot relevant, sometimes literally just a preamble to case 5. so yeah i think this one was kinda ass

the two things it had going for it: one, athena. in 6-2 i actually got confused about why i ever liked her, because in that case she felt like she was just acting the part of the Peppy Teen Girl With a Rowdy Streak that makes up almost every assistant character. But then as SOON as she started bantering with Simon in 6-4 i was like “oh, THAT’S why i liked her!” was nice to take control of her again.

two, uendo toneido. while i don’t think you can say the DID was portrayed with quite the necessary respect or kindness, it was handled better than i’ve seen other media handle it-- at least it’s not completely demonized. other people have written more on that in better detail so i’m not really the judge, but the basic point is that this witness was mad fun to read, and even the dumb jokes like the changing number of floor cushions were entertaining. thus why this case is in the “hard carried by one side character” tier.

especially since there was like nothing else going on. no connection to the main plot, only two other characters besides uendo, and for some reason the clown tits girl was here instead of the magic show case (and to be honest, she wasn’t enjoyable for me even BEFORE she did the standard aa female villain thing and changed her speech pattern as soon as she fell under suspicion). just a weird, nothing case stuck right around the point aa games usually enter endgame. And especially weird because...

6-5 part 1: inexplicably there are two separate cases in the final chapter and each gets one day of investigation and trial. such a weird setup, and it really shouldn’t work... but i think it kinda barely does. barely. it would still have been better to split it into case 4 and case 5 though.

i have a hard time articulating much on the first case bc it sort of blends together for me. the main thing is that the concept of it being a civil case where apollo and phoenix face off is really good. it was a good change of pace, even though you knew it was gonna be a murder somehow anyway. sarge was reasonably nice, i guess, paul atishon had some good animations and quirks (my favorite being when he tries to just walk away from the stand to avoid answering a question), and the logic of the actual murder was good enough.

but i especially got those strong “oh this is a FINAL case!” vibes during the segment in the cave, and that added so much to it even if not much of it was relevant in the first half of the case. the adventure feel reminded me of some of the (out of context bc i still havent played it) scenes i know from 3-5, which is a good association to invoke imo. and it did a lot to give apollo and dhurke time to bond.

speaking of which, dhurke, holy shit. what a KING. i don’t think i’ve ever liked a dad character in ace attorney this much. he’s so genuine and like down to earth that it’s impossible not to start liking him and believe how much he cares for his sons. the bit where he rescued apollo from the cave flood... i felt it in my heart

6-5 part 2: let me just get this out of the way: ga’ran sucks. her design after she goes full evil is so bad, she’s so malicious that it’s immediately obvious she’s going to be the culprit, her breakdown is ridiculous and just embarrassing to watch, and inga had already established way more charisma as a villain when he did the “those were orders of execution actually” bit in 6-3. with that said,

i actually liked it for the most part. the spirit channeling stuff was excellent imo-- they probably use it to similar or greater effect in 3-5 but as someone who again has not played that, i was surprised and almost impressed by how well it was applied. maya was relevant for something! it feels like it’s been ages!

rayfa was a little underutilized, i think-- her moment of determination where she stops letting ga’ran have control over her was alright but it fell flat bc it didn’t have any weight during the moment. i kept hoping she would like, wordlessly take of her shawl and do the little verbal preamble to the divination seance while ga’ran kept yelling at her to stop, but no, the script can’t be good like that, i guess. and since she didn’t get to be the investigation assistant for long, none of her charm in that role carried through.

but DHURKE!! oh my god! in a game almost devoid of emotional impact, his involvement in this case really hit. the way they painstakingly animated his death, the scene where he makes a promise with maya, and then the weight of knowing in hindsight that everything he did in the first part of the case was after he’d already died and just wanted to see his son again before passing on for real....... it hurt. i felt something during that section. this case would also be hard carried by him if not for the fact that i really liked the murder bits.

amara was good too--liked how they made her suspiciously serene and accentuated it with the lightning strikes to make her look like a hidden murderer character about to reveal herself, only to walk it back and confirm she was being forced to act that way. i thought it worked. nahyuta was boring though, i’m sorry-- i get the motivation with having to be a bastard bc his sister and mom were basically held hostage, but the only time i found him compelling in that mess was the bit where he removed his one fingerless glove and revealed he still has the dragon tattoo. that was it. athena was also completely unused the whole case (not even a single mood matrix? really?) and trucy one again went without any role of importance.

the ending also... yknow, a friend said they had to end it this way bc they never figured out what they were going to do with apollo (since following up on what they started in aa4 clearly wasn’t an option???) and just threw him on a bus to get rid of him. i agree with that-- he really feels thrown to the side, and with that i think trucy’s officially stranded with no hope of any character advancement. and the way they ended the game with phoenix and lamiroir deciding “yeah, maybe NOW we should finally tell those two they’re related” honestly felt insulting lol

but maybe the dlc case will let things go out on a high note...?!

6-6: it was okay.

it would’ve worked pretty well as a filler case in an older aa-- honestly i think it’d be one of the better filler cases, certainly worth replacing the shitty ones like 2-3 or 3-3 or, hey, 6-4. but whether i’d say it was worth paying for... eh.

the time travel conceit was done well enough, i think. the way they tied it back to sorin and pierce’s backstories was nice, and the twist about having two receptions was good, although they needed to treat that as a real twist with much more gravity. when the truth comes out it just feels like “oh of course that’s what happened” rather than a big surprise worthy of the Confessing the Truth theme. it’s sort of important because the case becomes a lot less interesting when you take out the time travel element.

far as characters are concerned, i think they needed more side characters to sell the whole thing-- another sprocket family member or another servant of the household. it felt a little limited-- sorin and pierce are pretty good witnesses and i like their quirks and their secrets, but the only alive woman (ellen) has very few traits and no connection to the deeper story of the case, so she falls really flat. the old aa characters didn’t add much- maya and edgeworth were just there for fanservice, ema didn’t get to do much other than acknowledge for the first time in years that she’s a big edgeworth fan, and larry is annoying as hell like he always is.

and oh my god i actually forgot while i was writing that, how they put in athena and trucy but only used them for brief slapstick where trucy would try to set athena on fire and shit. again-- no mood matrix? couldn’t even try once to fit those two characters into something?

i did like pierce’s transformation into his surgeon form though-- that was really cool. loved him doing surgery on a robot, taking xrays of the lawyers, and his breakdown was fantastic-- he would make a really good culprit if they didn’t whiff the last bit of pathos at the end. i don’t think he should’ve been aiming for revenge on sorin; it would have hurt much more if he was still loyal to the guy and never intended for him to be in danger, but the final “why’d you do it?” talk in the trial just felt flat and one-note, much like the one in 6-4.

... so that’s spirit of justice! not a super positive experience but i’m happy to say it’s done. as much as i want to go and replay dgs, i think when i do go back to ace attorney i’ll be replaying the trilogy for the first time since high school

#ace attorney #aa playthrough

[the-shadow-of-atlantis]

Not Again

Summary: this is a late halloween story but my friend who rewuested it finally gave it its approval Sandy belongs to my friend and Red mentioned at the end belongs to @melyaliz

Tagging: @dilpickledd @melyaliz @coffee-randomness @speedypan

You would think that after three generations, well technically four, of hero's things couldn't get any crazier. You would think that maybe the villians would get tired of the same ol plots and plans. Was it too much to ask for just one day? One day full of spooks and cheesy named platters. One day having fun with your significant other. One day to just be a teenager. But no Aquata should have known better, especially when this halloween happened to fall on a full moon.

The first sign were the ghosts or rather lack of. Aquata was used to seeing them especially around October when the bridge between worlds was more open. Heck she even had a ghost nanny who was technically her mom but in a past life. Ghosts were actually pretty chill and never really bothered her, whenever they would interact with her Aquata would simply try and see if she could help them pass on.

Aquata had managed to go through most of the day before realizing the lack of ghost activity. She only noticed because she spotted a familiar looking ghost boy who quickly glided into one of the empty classrooms.

"Hey cover for me." Aquata whispered to her sister as she made her way to the classroom. Shaylee stood by the door and pretended to check her bag.

"Weastly?" Aquata called out quietly scanning the room.

The little boy poked his head out from the teachers desk, his golden locks tucked inside a beanie. His eyes shifted around nervously and sunk back in enough to cover half of his head.

"Hey what are you doing here?" Aquata asked softly as she approached.

"I'm playing." Weastly replied though his answer didn't match up to his mood.

"Playing what?" Aquata asked going along hoping that he'd reveal something.

"Hide n seek." He whispered and ducked lower. "He's looking for us."

Weastly completely sunk into the desk and when Aquata peered under he was gone. Frowning she walked back out to her sister.

"What happened?" Shaylee asked as she closed her backpack.

"I just saw Weastly." Aquata replied.

"You old little ghost friend? What was he doing?"

"He said he was playing but I don't know, something felt off about him."

"Isn't his whole thing is that he always wants to play?"

"Well yeah but I don't know he was acting weird. It seemed like he was scared?" Aquata frowned as she tries to make sense of his attitude. "You don't feel anything off?"

Shaylee shrugged as she paused by her class. "You know I wasn't gifted with that supernatural power."

"There's nothing off about your magic?"

"Hmm nothing out of the usual. The full moon always helps but it feels the same? I guess?"

"Well you're no help." Aquata grumbled.

"Talk to mom when we get home I'm sure she'll know something." Shaylee shrugged. "Or I dunno find another ghost and see if they know what's up. Or meditate on it."

"Alright alright you've made your point." Aquata rolled her eyes and waved goodbye.

"Hey." Lily greeted Aquata by the door of their shared classroom and suddenly Aquata felt hrf worry slip away.

"Hey." Aquata smiled bringing her girlfriend in for a quick kiss.

"Are you excited for tonight?" Lily asked wrapping her arm around Aquatas waist and walked inside the classroom.

"Yup it's going to be awesome. You're lucky I basically already had the costume." Aquata smiled as she let go and sat down suddenly looking forward to tonight's Halloween party.

"Hey mom can you- oh sorry." Aquata stopped at the entrance to her mother's office.

Annabella braced herself against her desk rubbing her temple as she recovered from the seance. Annabella looked up and smiled at her daughter.

"Well don't you look rebellious." Annabella chuckled as she relaxed. "What do you need sweetie?"

"Oh um I just can't figure out how to tie a tie and I can't find dad.” Aquata said as she held up the fabric that was dangling from her neck.

“I thought the tie was supposed to be undone?” Annabella asked but she still approached her daughter.

“I’m trying to go for the trying too hard to look disheveled version.” Aquata said holding still as her mother twisted the tie into a knot.

“I see, well, there you go loosen it to your liking.” Annabella smiled and fixed the golden snitch Aquata had stuck in her hair.

“Is everything okay?” Aquata finally decided to ask as she began tugging on the tie eyeing the stone Annabella had on her desk.

“Yeah, yeah everything’s okay.” Annabella said though she eyed the stone nervously.

“Mom.” Annabella sighed and smiled reassuringly at Aquata.

“Something feels off, and I haven’t seen Selby all day. Usually she loves helping out with the halloween stuff you know. So I tried summoning her but it almost seems like she's blocking me or something I don't know.” Annabella shrugged and brushed some of her hair away. “I also haven’t used my magic in awhile so I might just be a little out of practice.”

“Do you think something is wrong?”

“Even if I did there's plenty of hero’s to help with the situation. Go have fun with Lily, just be safe.” Annabella brushed her hand against Aquatas cheek and Aquata nodded her head hugging her mom before leaving.

“Okay I get that the house is basically an entrance to a cemetery, but come on they could have done a better job at decorating.” Aquata sighed as she eyed the cheesy props they used.

“Don't start.” Lily laughed as she pulled Aquata along.

Aquata couldn’t help but smile as Lily immediately led her to the dance floor. Any thought of what was going outside of their little bubble was gone and there was only her.

“I think I might sweat my hair dye off.” Lily laughed as the song ended and wiped her forehead. “I'm getting something to drink, want something?”

“Yeah, bring me whatever you're having.” Aquata said and turned to head somewhere they could take a break.

Aquata paused when she saw someone standing on the other end of the room. No, that wasn't possible, Aquata shook her head and looked again but the person was staring right back at her also appearing confused.

“Sandy?” Aquata asked as she studied her technically half sibling.

“Aquata right?” Sandy said, also eyeing Aquata.

“What are you doing here?” They both asked at the same time.

“My friend Sara is throwing this party.” Aquata answered first.

“No my friend Trish is throwing this party.” Sandy corrected.

“Oh great.” They said again as it dawned on them what was happening.

“Not again.” Aquata sighed as she rubbed her temple.

“Well gee nice to see you too.” Sandy raised their eyebrow.

“No I mean not that I’m not glad to see you but like… I’m sorta here on a date and I really like this girl and heeyyyyy Lily.” Aquata quickly smiled and perked up trying to act normal.

“Hey who’s this?” Lily asked as she handed Aquata her drink.

“This is Sandy… my half sibling.” Aquata said trying not to lie too much.

“Half sibling?” Lily asked, looking at Sandy carefully.

“Yeah my dad accidentally donated a while back and we discovered a year ago we have some half siblings.” Aquata internally cringed at her explanation.

“Huh.” Lily continued to eye Sandy then cracked a smile. “Looks like your family is just filled with Ravenclaws.”

“That’s not true.” Aquata relaxed and wrapped her arm around Lily. “Dads a Gryffindor too. Not to mention mom is a Slytherin.”

“Yet your twin and brother are a Ravenclaw.”

“Shaylees a Ravenclaw?” Sandy asked, settling into the conversation and looking at their costumes. “Oh are you guys Lily and James?”

“Finally someone gets it.” Lily said, smiling brightly. “Everyone gets that I'm Lily but have a hard time figuring out who Aquata is.”

“Half think I’m Hermione, which I get, but at the same time I’m not that smart.” Aquata shrugged only to receive a smack from Lily.

Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe Aquata could still spend the night at this party with her girlfriend and sibling and act like nothing was going on. There are plenty of people that could handle what was happening. That was until the house began to shake. Great.

People began to scream and run the house shuttering and groaning. Aquata managed to slip away from Lily hoping that she would get out of the house and not try to look for her. Sandy followed her to the back and they began running through the cemetery. It wasn't till they were halfway through that Aquata began to realize something.

“The graves.” She said almost breathlessly, Sandy stopped to look at what had caught Aquatas attention.

“The names… they’re changing.”

Aquata felt her heart plummet and she started to recognize the names. Her parents, her friends, her family.

“We have to hurry.” Aquata said, picking up the pace.

“Oh come on not this guy.” Aquata whispered as they finally neared the end of the cemetery and noticed the witch boy Klarion walking by the graves.

“What’s he doing?” Sandy asked as they poked their head over one of the graves.

He paused by one of the graves, a rather large orb in his hands. A white haze seemed to get observed by the orb. Suddenly there was a soft meow from behind them and the two turned to face the familiar evil orange tabby.

“Don't worry, my mother said.” Aquata grumbled as she quickly dodged a blast from the witch boy.

“There’s plenty of heroes to take care of what's happening, she said.” She continued as she manipulated water to turn into ice picks and shoot them at the cat.

“You're very bitter about this aren’t you.” Sandy said from a few feet away as they focused their attack on the witch boy.

“What gave you that idea?” Aquata asked as she turned the water into a whip and tried to keep the cat at bay.

“Out of all the children that could come after me I had to get the two that have baby magic.” Klarion whined as he directed another attack toward Sandy.

“Hey I might not be anywhere near my sisters level of magic but I can still kick your butt.” Aquata shouted as she attacked him from behind.

“Hardly.” Klarion claimed as he managed to shake the girl off.

“Oh yeah?” Aquata said as she stood up holding the orb in her hands triumphantly.

“Give that back!” Klarion shouted his face suddenly becoming distorted.

“Keep away.” Aquata shouted as she flinged it towards Sandy who caught it and quickly rolled out of Klarion's range.

Aquata managed to land a good hit on the cat and tucked behind a rather large tombstone.

"No fair! No fair! No fair!" Klarion shrieked.

"We need to destroy this." Sandy said as they jumped in front of Aquata narrowly missing the hit Klarion threw at them.

Aquata snatched it from Sandy's hand and rolled away in time before the stone finally shattered.

"No!" Klarion shrieked as he spotted Aquata hold the orb in front of her.

She saw the hands and faces of the souls that were being trapped inside it and she felt rage boil inside her. This wasn't how souls should be treated. They were already suffering so much they didn't deserve this. She wasn’t exactly sure how but she knew it needed to be destroyed. The orb began to feel cold in her hands and with a sudden scream Aquata felt the electricity course through her body and shatter the orb to pieces. The spirits broke free and immediately went to swarm Klarion who let out a terrified yelp and disappeared.

“Woah easy.” Sandy said as they went up to Aquata and quickly caught her. Aquata looked down at her hands noticing the charred skin. “Come on let's get you to the watchtower.”

“We really should hang out sometime when the world isn’t in danger again.” Sandy said as they finished wrapping Aquatas hands.

“That would be great. I know Shaylee is going to be jealous I got to spend tonight with you.” Aquata smiled.

“Oh Coral is going to freak when she realizes I was with the other siblings.” Sandy chuckled.

“Hey um Sandy right?” The two looked up and Aquata smiled when she saw it was her friend Red. “Your ride back home is here.”

“Thanks.” Sandy nodded and turned to face Aquata patting her hands gently. “Thanksgiving we’ll spend it somewhere nice and have the whole family together.”

“I'll let my parents know.” Aquata nodded and hugged her sibling before they left.

“How are your hands doing?” Red asked as he leaned against the door.

“I'll be out of commission for a couple days.” Aquata said, trying to flex her fingers, then sighed. “That is if Lily doesn’t kill me first.”

“I'm sure she’ll forgive you.” Red tried to reassure her.

“I hope so.” Aquata looked down at her hands. “This was already supposed to be the makeup date… can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Is it worth it? Having them know?”

Red stayed quiet for a bit as he thought over the question. “You really like her dont ya.”

“Yeah, I do.” Aquata said softly.

“I'll admit it's still a bit hard. I worry about her but Mandy is… amazing. If you feel like it's the right thing I say go for it.”

“Thanks.” Aquata smiled before hopping off her bed. “Um I’m going to need some help getting home.”

“Don't worry I got you.” Red smiled as he held the door open for her and she stepped out into the hallway.

“Thank you.” Aquata turned towards the sound of the soft voice and spotted several spirits standing in the hallway. Some looked familiar, some she had never seen, and others… others were a little too familiar.

“You okay?” Red asked and Aquata turned to look at him.

“Yeah.” She mumbled looking back only to find an empty hallway. “Yeah I’m okay.”

She smiled and continued to follow him a little closer. As much as she didn't mind seeing ghosts there was something about seeing the ghosts of her friends that unsettled her.

[welllpthisishappening]

An American Haunting (2/2)

Emma Swan does not believe in ghosts. She simply talks about them on tourist-filled walking tours at Colonial Williamsburg.

It’s a belief she’s certain she’ll always hold, until, one summer she starts hearing a voice, asking her for help. And, suddenly, every certainty Emma Swan has ever had starts to shake just a bit, a hint of history and a past that’s far more extensive than she could have imagined.

—-

Rating: Still teen. Still kind of unexpectedly freaky.  AN: Hey, thanks for reading this incredibly self indulgent nonsense, internet. It was and is very nice. One time we went to Colonial Williamsburg and my sister, Justin and I kept mentioning the end of the Revolution, but it was supposed to be 1779 that day. So, we were two years early and a reenactor told my sister that she should go to the mental hospital. Because she was clearly a future-telling witch. Anyway, here’s more ghost story. 

|| Part One here and the rest on Ao3 if that’s how you roll. ||

—-

They picked quarter of midnight. 

Something about giving them a cushion, which felt a little ridiculous, but then Emma was standing in front of the Wythe house with her hand wrapped up in Killian’s and her stomach in her throat and— “I can practically hear you thinking, love.” She glanced at him, lips curling up and a spark in his eye that might have been ninety-six percent of the reason Emma was sure this was going to be alright. “What do I have to think about? A ghost is begging me for help about who knows what and—” “—Tell me a lesser known Revolutionary War fact.”

“Oh, you think you’re very charming, don’t you?” “I know I am,” Killian promised, tugging her hand up to kiss the bend of her knuckles. 

“I had a crush on Lafayette when I was a kid.”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that. Emma grinned triumphantly. “Have you ever seen a portrait of the Marquis, love?” “No, no, I know,” Emma muttered. “And it’s definitely a weird thing, although not the weirdest thing about me, I guess and—I just...I don’t know. Growing up the way I did and bouncing around houses and cities, I guess it was just appealing. Fighting for an ideal. Joining a cause that wasn’t necessarily yours, but was, at least, kind of good. There’s a certain romanticism to it, isn’t there?” “Revolutions are always a little romantic for those who win them.” “That was philosophical.”

Killian chuckled, lips still on Emma’s skin and she yelped when his teeth nipped at her fingers. “You’re not going to do anything ridiculous tonight are you?” “Aside from the seance?” “I think it’s only a seance if there are candles involved.” “Ah, right, right. Then, no. I’m not.”

 “Alright, so, basically, we just have to...wait.”

Emma made a noise in the back of her throat, David’s instructions lacking any real instruction. She wasn’t really sure what she wanted to happen, couldn’t really even see anything that was happening because at some point they’d decided not to turn the lights on and that felt like a bad move, but— The clock behind Emma’s head ticked. 

Midnight. 

Killian’s hand, the same one that hadn’t ever left hers, tightened, thumb brushing over the back of her palm like a metronome. She counted swipes — one, two, three…

Clack, clack, clack. 

“Holy shit,” Emma breathed. The sound got louder, moving up the stairs opposite them, but there wasn’t any body and she seriously could not see, just bits of moonlight peeking through wooden blinds and stretching across historically accurate area rugs. 

The noise stopped. 

Only to be replaced by the tell-tale sound of a door hinge and more footsteps and Emma’s whole body convulsed as soon as she heard it, barely keeping her balance. Her head dropped back, colliding with Killian’s collarbone and he must have been muttering words in her ear because she could hear something, but it didn’t sound particularly like him and— She was moving. 

Emma took the stars two at a time, David and Killian’s matching cries echoing in the air behind her. She didn’t stop. She didn’t slow down. She raced down the narrow hall, the door to the corner room wide open and a shadowy figure staring out the only window. 

“You have to help. He’s getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand what that means,” Emma said. She wrapped her arms around her middle, fighting off the chill that crept under her skin. “Who? How is he getting stronger?” The woman turned, the same dress and disheveled hair and Emma had no idea how she knew. That was also a frustrating theme. 

“You’re repeating the same thing over and over again, aren’t you? The night you ran out of the Palace, that’s—” “—I didn’t run out of the Palace.” “The gardens, then?” 

She nodded, Emma trying to piece together a puzzle with far too many pieces. “Ok, ok, so you were here when Rochambeau got word to Washington, right? To come back to the Chesapeake? That’s—did you not want that?”

Emma had never put much stock in the idea of time travel before, but she was also talking to a ghost on the reg now, so she figured maybe she could work with that as well. And immediately use it to retract her question. 

Because the woman still didn’t look all that solid, but her eyes flared, a spark of anger that made the hair on the back of Emma’s neck stand up. She could dimly hear grunting from the bottom of the stairs. “Want that?” the woman sneered. “That’s all I wanted. That’s exactly what we’d been working towards, trying desperately to end it. But he was...he was stronger than even I realized, a demon. He thrived on the chaos, stoked the rumors and he—if he’d had his way, the war never would have ended at all.” “Who?” “Robert Gold.” Emma’s hand flew to the doorframe, trying desperately to keep her balance and her sanity. She wasn’t sure she could get both. “Robert Gold. He wasn’t...was he not human?” The entire house shook. Possibly the entire world. 

Emma’s knees rattled, what felt like her actual brain bouncing around her skull and she wasn’t sure she’d ever made that noise. The pain that bloomed behind her left eye was excruciating, as if she were being split right down the middle. She grit her teeth, trying to breathe evenly, but it failed spectacularly and the taste of blood in her own mouth made her retch. 

She dropped down, barely able to keep her eyes open as the shadow in front of her flickered, smoke on the water and breath on a window pane, a soft laugh in her ear that made every inch of Emma recoil. 

The footsteps behind her were impossibly loud. 

“Emma, Emma! God, fuck, Emma, are you ok?” Her right knee was bleeding, the pain in her head ebbing slightly as soon as Killian pulled her against his chest, and Emma wasn’t sure when she’d started crying. It felt like she was choking on her tears, panting with the effort to contain emotion that absolutely was not hers. 

“You’re ok, you’re ok,” Killian said, over and over, as if repeating it would make it true. His hands brushed over her hair and the back of her neck, tracing over the curve of her shoulders and Emma wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him that pale before. 

David was visibly shaking behind him. 

“What just happened?” “I don’t know,” Emma whispered. “But I don’t think we’re dealing with fun ghost stories anymore.”

 “You’re kidding me, right?” Regina asked archly, sitting behind a massive desk with picture frames and even more stacks of paper. She looked more tired than she had two days earlier. “A demon? Be serious, Emma.” “I am,” Emma promised. “This is—Regina, you’ve got to tell me if I’m losing it.” “Honestly?” “Ok, c’mon.” Regina waved both hands in the air, impatience in the movement and the ringtone of more than one phone. “I don’t have time for this. And don’t think my husband an I aren’t going to have a serious conversation about him letting the three of you into the Wythe house after hours. You could have done serious damage, you could have—” “—Have you ever heard the name Robert Gold before?”

It was as if all the oxygen had been forcibly removed from the room. Regina’s lips practically disappeared, a flicker of recognition that Emma was going to cling to. 

For her sanity. 

“How did you hear that name?” “Is that a yes?” “Emma,” Regina hissed. “This is important. Where did you hear that name?”

“The ghost in the Wythe house told me last night.”

Regina slumped in her chair — a move that was nearly more ridiculous than any of the incredibly ridiculous things Emma had encountered in the last seventy-two hours. “What happened last night?” Emma explained the whole thing. The voice, the dress, the shoe. She told her about the woman’s pleas to help and how much stronger he was getting and every bit of information seemed to personally offend Regina. Her tongue kept darting between her lips, breathing through her mouth with her eyes darting towards her office door like she was fully expecting the demon to arrive at any moment. 

“So,” Emma said, voice a little scratchy. “You know more about this place than any of us combined, Regina. Your family’s been here for hundreds of years and—” “—Yes.” “Wait, what?” Regina ran an exhausted hand over her face, not bothering to adjust her posture. “Yes,” she repeated. “Or, at least in theory.” “Explain that better.” “I don’t know the exact number of greats, but however many it was, my grandmother, her name was Cora. She was old money. The kind of money that could buy influence and decisions in several courts across Europe. Only she, well...rumors swirled, mutterings of virtue and eighteenth-century mindsets and that led to a rather quick betrothal to a man without much else to his name except the letters it was made of. They sailed for the colonies shortly after they were wed.” “And?” “And they lived here,” Regina said. “The man—his name was Henry. He owned the coffee shop near the Capitol, but that’s a far cry from what Cora was used to and, if my family’s legends are to be believed, she started cavorting with… a very particular crowd.” “Did you just use the word cavorting in real life?” “Witches. Magical folk. There’s plenty of documentation of that in the Tidewater region, going back even to Jamestown. So Cora starts working with magic, looking for something to better her own standing and, maybe, get back to the continent and then, wouldn’t you know, shots are fired at Lexington and Concord.”

“And I’m sure she wasn’t the rebels biggest fan?” Emma guessed. 

Regina shook her head. “Didn’t speak about it, obviously. Especially with Henry’s business and his own political leanings, but, again, this is all just hearsay, passed down through generations.”

“What are you hearing?” “That Cora wanted out. Of the colony, of her marriage, away from anything even remotely American. But her options were limited and her magic, if she even had any, was basic at best. So she had to seek out some help.” Emma’s insides froze. It was gross. It felt gross. And cold. And uncomfortable. 

She was certain she was forgetting to ask something. 

Something big. “There are letters,” Regina continued, “between Cora Mills and Robert Gold starting in October 1775, shortly after the Continental Congress instructed the construction of a naval fleet. No going back after that.”

“And Robert Gold had magic?” Regina made a noncommittal noise. “Honestly? Fuck if I know, Emma. But that was the rumor. He was said to be an immensely powerful man, although it could never be found what side he was on. He seemed to dance that line in almost perfect rhythm. No abject support for the colonists or the British, just for himself.” “That’s what she said,” Emma muttered. “The ghost. She said that he thrived on the chaos of the war. Makes sense for a demon, doesn’t it?” “You’re talking in the hypothetical now.” “No, I’m—I saw something last night Regina. Something that was...I know it sounds crazy, but it happened and it’s not going to stop.” “You know that for sure?” Emma’s lungs hurt. “Killian said we’re close to the beginning of the siege of Yorktown. That’s not...I mean, it’s not an important anniversary.” 

It took, by Emma’s admittedly shaky count, exactly four seconds and one knocked over picture frame for Regina to jump up, eyes wide and fingers fluttering at her side. “Two-hundred and thirty-eight years.” “What?” “Add up those numbers.” Emma shook her head, but her mind was already calculating and it wasn’t really hard and—”Oh shit,” she breathed. “Thirteen?” “Pretty magical number, right?” “You tell me. You’re the one with a history of witches in your family.”

Regina didn’t look impressed. “What I can’t figure out is why this woman came to you. That’s...it doesn’t make any sense.” “Well, add that to the list of questions with seemingly no answer. What do we do now?” “You want me to repeat myself?”

Emma clicked her tongue. “I guess.” “Fuck if I know.”

There were no ghosts for the next three days. No words or whispers, but a few pointed glances from Killian and neither he nor Emma had said anything about feeling her. 

That felt like a very large leap in a relationship that was still without any qualifiers. 

And she did look some things up when she felt so inclined, but demon sightings in the Hampton Roads area was kind of a broad search. 

Emma didn’t really want to find anything anyway. 

So she worked at Tarpley’s and ignored Ruby and Mary Margaret’s whispers that abruptly ended as soon as she walked into any room or how often David kept trying to force feed her ginger cookies and she didn’t notice the brick sitting outside her door until Thursday night. 

She wasn’t sure if that was important. 

“What the hell,” Emma mumbled, ducking down to pick up the thing and it was heavier than she expected. “Oh, shit, God, that—”

Eventually she would have loved to finish some of her sentences. 

As it was, the words and expletives kept getting stuck and Emma barely got her phone out of her pocket before she was dialing. 

He answered on the second ring. “Swan?” “What do the bricks look like in the garden?” Killian blinked. She couldn’t see him. She knew anyway. “Elaborate on that for me.” “Are there people buried back there?” It sounded like he dropped the phone. Emma glanced towards the sky. She couldn’t bring herself to go in her apartment. That also probably wasn’t important. “Swan, where are you?” Killian asked, an edge to his voice that she knew wasn’t directed at her. “What the hell are you talking about?” “There is a brick in my hand.” “Love, I can’t read your mind if you’re not in front of me.” “I came home and there was a brick here,” Emma explained. “That hadn’t been here, I don’t know—at least last week. And I think...it looks like the wall to the palace gardens. That’s got to be a sign, right?” “Of what, exactly?” “What are you doing right now?” “Emma.” “That’s not an answer.” “You cannot go back there,” Killian said. She could hear the crunch of seashells under his feet. He was outside the Randolph house. That felt oddly appropriate. 

“Someone left this here for me. That’s—the woman said he wouldn’t stop and I...Regina was right, there’s got to be a reason that I could do this.” Silence. 

Emma grimaced. “You talked to Regina about this?” Killian whispered, and Emma knew the wind around her was just that. She hoped so, at least. 

“You told David I was hearing voices!” “Ok, that is not the same thing and I was—” “—Worried. I know, I know, but...ok, Regina thinks Robert Gold was a bad guy who, possibly, was involved in some serious magic-type shit and the ghost told me he never wanted the war to end. Someone had to tell Rochambeau about Cornwallis’ plans, right? Yes, the answer is yes. And we thought it would be this Gold guy, but what if it..” 

Emma licked her lips, a step back from the door that was suddenly rattling in front of her. That couldn't have been good. 

“What if it was the woman?” she asked. “It’s not totally unheard of at the time. Women turning spy and moving information. If she thought her husband was the good guy he was pretending to be, it’d make sense he was there too. Only he wasn’t a good guy. He was a fucking demon, playing both sides and teaching magic to angry loyalists and—”

Emma dropped the phone that time. 

Because the noise on the other end left her gasping, tears pricking her vision and knees threatening to buckle again. It wasn’t a scream. It was...worse than that. It left Emma shivering, darkness wrapping around her like that was even possible, until she was certain she’d never be warm again, a hollowness in her chest and emptiness in her soul. 

She squeezed her eyes closed, clenching her jaw until the pain moved there as well and there was a voice coming from her phone. 

“Oh, Savior! It’s time to come out and play.”

She must have run there because there was a stitch in Emma’s side by the time she skidded to a stop under the archway leading to the palace gardens, but she genuinely could not remember a single moment of it. 

As if she’d blinked and willed herself to the spot. 

The darkness stretched in front of her there as well, impenetrable and a little intimidating, but she had no idea where Killian was or what Savior meant and she’d left the brick behind. 

“C’mon, Swan,” Emma mumbled, and talking to herself was a sure-fire sign of impending insanity. She took a step forward. 

It had been years since she’d been back there at night, but Emma didn’t remember the whole thing being quite so creepy, oversized hedges and flowers that looked colorless under a dim moon. Emma walked slowly, every move measured so as not to make too much noise or draw attention from an enemy she couldn’t see. 

And it absolutely, positively did not matter when she heard him yelling. 

Emma sprinted. Loudly. Quickly. Sticks and stones under her feet and lungs feeling as if they were actually collapsing in her chest, winding through the maze behind the palace because of course they were in the maze behind the palace. “Killian! Killian, where are you?” She jerked her head around, looking for something she did not want to find, but there wasn’t anything just that same laugh she’d heard in the Wythe house, low and maniacal, like it believed it had already won. 

Emma stopped short, a silhouette in front of her. 

He wasn’t that tall, might have been slouched slightly, leaning against a cane, and Emma knew he wasn’t right. Like, on a fundamental level. His jacket was very clearly late eighteenth-century. The collar was always the tell. 

“Are you Robert Gold?” she asked, another step forward with far more confidence than she actually had. 

He nodded. 

And moved into the bit of moonlight between them. 

Emma gasped. 

She hated that. It wasn’t particularly heroic or powerful, was nothing more than scared, but it had nothing on the whimper she let out as soon as Gold snapped his fingers, Killian landing in a lump at her feet. 

There were bruises on his face, blood caked to his cheek and she’d never been particularly worried about the prosthetic at the end of his left arm, but that was gone now, skin a nasty gray color with more than a few open gashes. 

“Killian,” Emma cried, but any attempt to lean forward proved fruitless when Gold tilted his head, as if there were an invisible barricade in front of them. 

“No, no, no, my dear, we’re not doing that quite yet,” Gold said. “We’ve got to get a few things cleared up first. I’ve heard you’ve been talking to my wife.”

Emma’s eyes flickered to her right, a shadow appearing there suddenly and she only had one shoe on. She was crying again. Or, maybe hadn’t ever stopped. 

That was understandable. 

“You see, my wife, she doesn’t understand what power is,” Gold continued, “What it’s like to be rife with it. To hold the potential of nations in the palm of your hand. She wanted me to give that up. For an ideal. For the future of a few thousand rabble-rousers.” Emma did not want to laugh. She didn’t. And yet. The sound tumbled out of her, soft and skeptical and—”I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve just never heard the phrase rabble-rousers used in real life. That was unexpected. Also, just, like, FYI, you’re not a god, so...controlling countries is—” “—My right,” Gold roared. “Humans never do understand, but you always wanted to be like them didn’t you, Savior?” “I don’t know what you're talking about!” Gold hummed, mouth twisted. “I’m sure you don’t. Well, let’s fix that, shall we?” He snapped his fingers once more, the rush of something colliding with Emma’s stomach making her breath soar out of her and the memories slammed into her. Like punches. Or cannonballs. In a water-based siege. 

She remembered dresses and meetings, quiet discussions at candlelit tables, a voice in her ear and a smile that she thought about as soon as he was gone. She remembered secrets and promises, guarantees to come back and light at the ends of her fingers. 

She remembered a woman, angry and evil, looking for something to change her fate, but unwilling to accept her own faults. She remembered letters, plans that could change everything, end it and secure a future with opportunity and possibility and— “It was us,” Emma whispered, Gold’s lips twitching. It wasn’t pleasant to look at. He wasn’t entirely opaque. 

“Eh, that’s where it gets a bit confusing,” Gold argued. “Not so much you as...it was...your spirit. Past lives are common in those with power and you, Ms. Swan, have been nothing short of powerful since your very first life. That had an impact on the people you love.”

He nodded in Killian’s direction. 

The tears that landed on Emma’s cheeks were questionably warm. 

“Shall I continue?” Gold quipped. “You don’t have to answer. I was planning on it. You, Ms. Swan are very powerful. A talent that the world was waiting for from the start of it all. Only, you’ve been tasked with this pesky thing called good will and you want to bring that to everyone around you. Including those rebels. Oh, yes, a rather soft spot for them—I’d imagine, mostly because of him.” He pointed at Killian. “Indentured servitude does do wonders for inspiring a rather strong hatred of the crown. So, Captain Jones served in the Continental Army. Fought and believed until his talents took him elsewhere.” “Spying,” Emma breathed, Gold humming in agreement. “Precisely. And as much as it pains me to admit it, he was quite good at it. Executed it perfectly even under my nose and—” “—Because you were playing both sides,” Killian growled, Emma dropping down to him and he actually had the gall to try and smirk at her. “That’s what it was, love. What we were saying, all those ups and downs, both sides unable to get an edge. He did it. God, did you—was Benedict Arnold you too?”

“That’s my knowledge to have now, isn’t it, Captain. Where was I?” “She helped, didn’t she?” Emma asked, glancing at the woman and she wished she knew her name. It felt disrespectful not to. 

“Oh, yes, quite the little patriot, my Belle. And she also had some support I didn't initially know about. I think you received part of his grave marker?” “What?” “William,” Belle said. “He was...he worked with Captain Jones. Served under him and he—” “—He was the one who found out about Rochambeau, Swan,” Killian said. “I...I can remember that. God, that’s weird.” Emma let out a strangled sound. “That’s the weird part?” “You all are ruining the flow of my story,” Gold complained. “Yes, that Scarlet bastard was quite a thorn in my side and he did effectively ruin my plan at the time, that’s why…” Emma shuddered when another memory slammed into her, the scene playing out like she was watching it in front of her. 

“General Washington and the Marquis de Lafayette will make their way from New York here,” Will explained, standing at a map-covered table and Emma could barely make out the hint of a smile on his face. “Rochambeau is already making preparations to blockade Cornwallis in the Chesapeake, just outside of Yorktown. If all goes to plan, we’d have nearly double the troops the Redcoats do and we’ll be able to cut them off completely. No one in, no one out.” “The end of the war,” Emma whispered. “It’d all be over.”

Will nodded. “The ink on the treaty should be dry before the leaves start falling.” “Optimistic,” Killian mused. His thumb brushed over the back of Emma’s hand. 

“Honest. I’ve already sent word to the General and I think —”

He didn’t say anything else, a swipe of a sword and flashes of red and Emma didn’t think before she reacted, a burst of light and surge of heat that moved from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair. 

Robert Gold laughed. 

At her. 

And her inability to realize magic when she saw it. 

And both Killian and Will were laying at her feet. 

“No, no, no,” she whispered, more magic and none of it worked, bouncing against barricades she couldn’t see and Emma would eventually regret the next four and a half minutes. She waved her right hand, tying Will to the land, a rather pitiful attempt to keep his soul on this plane. And she couldn't hear Killian breathing, blood staining his uniform and a distinct lack of anything at the end of his left arm. 

Emma shook her head, mouth moving with unspoken words. He smiled at her. The ass. 

“It’s ok, Swan. It’s — if it ends, it will all be worth it.”

She shook her head, footsteps receding and Robert Gold must have left and she didn’t care, couldn't care, not when this was happening and — ”No,” Emma objected. “That’s...I’ll see you again, I know it.” “I hope so, love.” The white flag came on October 19, 1781. With the leaves changing. 

Emma shook her head, eyes springing open and Gold chuckling in front of her. She waved her hand, certainty and confidence and a power she’d forgotten until that very moment. He stumbled backwards. 

“That was impressive, Savior,” he muttered. “But it’s not going to make a difference.” “How are you here? You’re...you look dead.” “Not dead. Simply without a vessel. Belle is dead.” “Did you kill her?” “Oh, yes. In that house you lot were all in earlier. Only she managed to do a bit of damage to me as well, a dagger that helps me harness my power and it did sting quite a bit when she stabbed me. That left me, as I said, without a vessel for quite some time, but now—” His smile widened, too many teeth and unspoken threat. “Well, you’re here. Come back to work in this place in another life with that.” He kicked at Killian, the toe of his boot colliding with ribs and Emma hadn’t realized he’d moved closer while he was talking. 

“But I don’t—what is your game here, exactly?” Emma asked. “Because I hate to tell you this, but the Revolutionary War ended. Like years ago and—” “—And did humans suddenly decide to stop hating each other?” Gold interrupted. “That’s what brought Cora Mills to my doorstep to begin with. Someday I’ll have to thank her. She did inspire me to get involved in that little revolution. The Captain was right. I toyed with both sides, and it would have lasted forever if it hadn’t been for your meddling. Trying to save everyone, give them the opportunity to thrive. 

So, I ask you Savior? Did any of it make a difference? Did the human race evolve into something better? A horde I couldn’t persuade to follow me, no matter what I was saying? See, that’s your problem. You believe these things...that they can be better. They can’t. They will hate and they will fight and they will kill each other. And that will only make me more powerful. It’s what brought me back now. And, by extension, both you and the Captain.” “And Will?” “Oh, still here. Also dead, though. The palace gardens are haunted, aren’t they?” Emma exhaled, oxygen and more tears and the blood from Killian’s arm was starting to stain the edge of her shirt. And she was sure, maybe in her third life, she’d start thinking before she reacted, but in that moment, with a demon laughing at her and a man she’d loved even longer than she remembered bleeding out at her feet, she simply...was. 

The light around her was bright, dancing off leaves and the branches of trees, casting Robert Gold in a glow that made the shadows around him disappear. 

Killian reached up towards her, fingers cold, but determined and Emma didn’t gasp when they curled around hers. She smiled. “It’s me,” she said, not a question, but the absolute certainty that she was right. “The only thing that can stop you because you don’t exist in this world and I do. In both of them. I’ve got—oh, you know what? I am more powerful than you!”

Gold tripped over his own feet, trying to move away from her and back into the darkness. Emma nodded, a soft laugh that was really more triumph than humor. 

“I am,” she continued. “That’s why I turned down Cora Mills when she tried to find me first. And that’s why this will work. Because I wasn’t the only thing that came back to fight you.” Emma crouched down, ignoring Killian’s objection because this could not have been proper military tactics, but she had a hunch and—well, more than a hunch. 

She looked directly at him, a mix of past and present, and God, she hoped, the future and his lips parted underneath Emma’s as soon as she touched him. 

It wasn’t particularly dignified, couldn't be when they were twisted at such awkward angles, but Emma swore she could feel it in every inch of her, a softness to it that was almost tender and still, somehow, greedy, making up for lost time and could have beens and—

“I love you,” Emma whispered. 

It was like the goddamn sun and the moon and something, Emma was sure, about the rocket’s red glare, just to drive home the patriotic point, but that was a different war and none of it mattered when Gold screamed. 

The sound echoed off those same trees, Emma jerking her head up with narrow eyes and a thrum of energy under her skin. She didn’t pull her gaze away or blink, staring at Gold and focusing on that one, particular shadow behind him.    He fell backwards. 

And the shadow wrapped around him, like rope and something about a hangman’s noose. It curled around his shoulders and twisted around his elbows, pinning his hands to his side and moving towards his mouth, blocking any sound or any screams and Emma was thankful for that. 

She didn’t want to hear what the shadow did to him. 

Watching was bad enough. 

It engulfed Gold, moving slowly so that Emma saw every inch of him disappear, but Killian’s hand didn’t leave hers and the wisp that was Belle looked like it was getting more and more corporal. It felt like it lasted forever and not nearly long enough. Until. There was nothing there. 

No Gold. No shadow. Just a tree and a breeze, bits of light hanging from the tips of Emma’s fingers. 

Killian wasn’t bleeding anymore. 

Emma kissed the end of his arm. 

“Belle?” The voice at the other end of the clearing was almost bursting with hope, the emotion hanging off all five letters and they needed to stop gasping. 

Maybe after the emotional reunions. 

Will Scarlet was still wearing his army-issued uniform, but his hair wasn’t matted to his forehead anymore, a brightness to his eyes and the tilt of his lips. He took a shaky step forward, hand grips the hilt of his sword and— “Are you wearing only one shoe?” Belle let out a watery laugh, hand flying to her mouth, but then she might have been flying, arms around Will’s neck and both feet off the ground and it was all romance and feeling and alive, sort of, at least. 

They lingered in each other’s space for a moment, oblivious to anything else, but then Will jerked his head towards Emma, eyes going wide. “Did you do this? Me here, I mean?” “Did you leave a brick on my doorstep?” “I wasn’t sure it would work. I’m kind of...stuck in this area, you know.” “I’m sorry about that.” “Don’t be. I...I didn’t want to leave.” “I think I can help with that, actually.” The hope returned. In spades. 

Emma nodded once, a quick inhale and sharp exhale, focusing on a different path and the corner of the maze and the tiny pinpricks of light leading towards something that was far bigger than she could process in the moment. 

“Thank you,” Belle said. “For all of it.”

She didn’t respond. Again. Still. But Belle didn’t seem to mind, just smiled softly and laced her fingers through Will’s, his curt nod the last thing Emma saw before they both disappeared around the corner. 

They went back to Killian’s apartment. It wasn’t not so much a decision as it was the only acceptable possibility, far too much... everything to go back to at Emma’s and— “You want to move in together?” she asked, curled against his side with his shirt on and eventually they’d have to talk about past lives. If only because she wasn’t sure if that meant he’d always be able to feel her magic. 

Emma figured that’s what had happened. 

“Yeah.” “Yeah? Just like that?” “I love you too,” Killian said. “I didn’t say that before, that was ridiculous.” “You were kind of busy.” “Avoiding death, yeah.” Emma rolled her eyes. He smirked. The ass. Again. “Which you saved me from. More than once, it seems.” “And that’s not freaking you out?” “Oh, yeah, absolutely. But only in a fear for my own mortality kind of way. I’m not sure my soul is quite prepared to move on at this point.” Emma quirked an eyebrow. “That so?” “Nah, lots of things I had planned. Both times around. The schedule’s been a little hectic, though. So I’d very much like to start crossing things off the to-do-list, as it were.” He moved as he spoke, hovering over her until Emma’s shoulders pressed into the corner of the couch and she had to hook her leg around his in an attempt not to fall on the floor. Killian groaned. “That’s your own doing,” she mumbled, already working her fingers under his shirt. “Take this off.” “I think we’re very much on the same page, love.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” His mouth dropped towards hers, all want and need and she was never going to stop thinking about his tongue. No matter how many times they did this. It swiped across her lips, Emma sighing against him and she was going to brag about whatever sound he made as soon as she canted her hips up for, like, at least the next few weeks. 

She tilted her head, trying to crowd into his space more, or possibly just take up some room in his soul and she got the distinct impression it wouldn’t be that hard. Killian’s hand moved under her back, palm flat on her skin and goosebumps there and for a moment it was all heady rhythm and tongues and teeth, slightly squished noises and panted breaths. 

And then— “I would have followed you anywhere, you know that?” Emma stilled. She’d closed her eyes at some point. Idiotic. Particularly when he was staring at her like that, several jokes about the sun and North Stars and—“Let’s not make a habit of it, ok?” ��Deal. I love you.” “That’s twice now.” “Consider it an attempt to reach an overdue quota.” She laughed, fingers trailing over the stubble on his jaw. “You want to sleep? I haven’t—it’s been kind of hard to do that recently. I mean I’m all for the to-do-list, but…” “The rest of our lives, right?” “I hope so.” “Deal,” Killian repeated, and his arm found its way back around Emma’s middle as soon as they dropped onto his bed. 

They didn’t stop working the extra ghost tour shifts. 

And they didn’t ever say anything about magic or past lives or anything, although Emma had a fairly strong suspicion that Regina had her own suspicions. If only because she let Emma stop wearing that one particular hoops skirt when it got especially warm. 

And Killian kept working the audience in every crowd, the groups getting a little bigger every few weeks, gasping on cue at stories and hauntings and— “Isn’t that right, Mistress Jones?” he asked, a summer later in the middle of a historic heatwave, and Emma couldn’t stop her answering smile if she tried. She didn’t really try. 

“Oh, yes, absolutely. Very haunted here in the capital city. Now, uh, if you’d all like to follow me, we’ll move on to the next location, just up the street and you may want to double check for anything in those photos you just took.”

Emma glanced Killian’s direction when the reactions came, one side of his mouth tugging up and a bit of light glinting off the ring on his right hand. 

He took a step forward, a quick kiss to her cheek that only a few tourists noticed, far too preoccupied with their photos and possibility and— “I’ll see you at home, love,” he muttered. 

“Liar.” Killian hummed, squeezing her hand and he was waiting outside the staff room when Emma finished, an upturned palm and the undeniable spark of magic in the air around them.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #colonial williamsburg fic #i am the one who had a crush on lafayette #if that wasn't just...blatantly obvious

[fantasyfandommaiden]

ML Counsellor AU: Tikki’s Closure

Carmine, after gathering items of at Farmers Market with Adrien, asks of Plagg a small favour, to have Tikki come to her apartment tonight in an attempt to help the kwami of creation with something. When Plagg inquires What it is, Carmine only gives one word. Closure.

[[MORE]]

After the eventful shopping trip at the farmers market, Carmine waited until the sun set before beginning the rest of her preparations for her next guest. She had prepared the right materials, she had cleansed the area with sage, and had taken a long cleansing shower. Gladiolus, her ever faithful ferret familiar, had taken it upon himself to make sure that each of the candles were in the exact position they were suppose to be, as well as bring over the matches that they would need to light the candles, before laying down on the table in front of Carmine.

She had braided her long red hair, and wore a simple black dress, and her usual pendant and ring as always. Carmine made the tea and waited for her next patient... she hopped she had gotten the message anyway...

~~~~~

While in her apartment a few hours later, Carmine had finished explaining the linage spell to Adrien. He was about to leave to go home and requested to use the bathroom, leaving herself and Plagg alone. Perfect.

“Plagg, I have a favour I need to ask of you.”

“Only if you tell me why you need that filthy fleas bone.” The kwami responded, still glaring at the bone within the glass bottle. “I thought this guy burned with a part of Paris, how did you find his bone? He doesn’t even deserve to be reduced to a pinkie! Frollo deserves nothing!”

“It has to do with the favour.” Carmine explained to him calmly “I need you to send a message to Tikki tonight, and ask her to come here.”

Plagg finally tore his eyes away from the bone to look at Carmine with a raised brow “... why?”

Carmine remained quiet for a moment, thinking it over slowly on how to respond to the tiny god “... I wish to offer her the chance to have some closure.”

~~~~~~

Carmine And Gladiolus looked up as she saw a red dot phase through her wall and float towards her with a small, If hesitant smile. “Good evening Carmine.”

Carmine returned to small smile with one of her own “Good evening Tikki, I see you received Plagg’s message.”

Tikki gave a small nod “Yes. We are able to send messages to eachother, although it is as draining as it is for our holders to use our Miraculous, so I was surprised to receive one asking me to come tonight.” Tikki informed her, looking at Carmine with a slight curious gaze “Why have you asked me to come?”

Carmine looked at Tikki with an even gaze “How much has Plagg told you about me?”

“If you are referring to your magic, I’ve known for awhile.” Tikki said in a sage like tone, slowly floating down to the table to sip at the small tea cup provided for her “Your magic, although not strictly under the creation domain, I can still feel it somewhat. It took awhile for me to realize it, since I haven’t been around a true magic user in a few centuries.”

Carmine gave a small smile “That makes this a bit easier than.” She said, brining out a large leather book, looking towards Tikki “... I know how in our last session, we were discussing closure, and how you never got to have proper closure with some of your previous holders.” She began, looking at Tikki, who looked like she was about to interrupt but Carmine stopped her “Before you ask, I would never, and have never, altered someone’s mind in that way. It goes against my belief that somethings need to be worked out before you use magic. If I have never used magic to erase a phobia, or force someone to find closure. It can cause damage more than anyone can heal... I’m suggesting something even more... ‘old school’.” Carmine told Tikki, who looked around at the table.

Carmine had out white candles, as well as some sage, and other herbal items. Tikki also noted the bone in the glass jar, glaring at it.

“... I needed the bone of a long dead priest in order to preform this ritual, as a sort of anchor into the veil.” Carmine explained to the kwami, as Tikki looked back at her, eyes widened “... you want to preform a seance.”

Carmine gave a small nod “Only with your permission, and only if you are up to it. I know it can be a lot, and this might be me over stepping my bounds but-“

“Joan.”

Carmine blinked, looking at Tikki with a soft expression as the Kwami looked at her, almost trembling “... I want to speak to Joan... I want to apologize for not being there for her.”

Carmine remained silent, before simply nodding “Very well. I will warn you, that the spirit that will appear will have the appearance of his or hers most strongest memory, and with how she passed on....” Carmine trailed off, remembering how the great Joan of Arc had been burned to the stake. Tikki said nothing, continuing to look at Carmine with her slightly trembling form.

“Will... will she truly appear?” Tikki asked, looking at Carmine, who nodded.

“There is a variation of this spell, specifically for holders of the Miraculous, however I would need the hair of the current chosen, willingly given of course, as well as your saliva. I couldn’t ask of that, mainly because I have never done the spell before and wouldn’t want it to backfire, and also I imagine the Guardian wouldn’t be please if I had those items would be?”

Tikki gave a slight shake of her head “... no he would not.”

“So we do the general version. Or, as general as the Rosewood family can be.” Carmine said as she opened the book and began turning the pages to find the correct one, Tikki still sat in silence.

Carmine lite the white candles that were all over the table with a match before sitting down again, looking down at the book in front of her before she began to speak the incantation, holding the pinkie bone tightly in one hand.

“I call to the place beyond the veil,

Where spirits go whether they be strong or frail.

I humbly speak out this request,

However know I do not do this out of humour or jest.

I ask to speak to one who is among the depart,

Please let us speak to Joan of Arc.”

The candles, which had began to flicker when Carmine first began to speak, all glowed an eerie blue colour as each small flame floated off its respected candle, margining into one ball of flame that continued to float TIL it was in the chair opposite of Carmine and Tikki.

A shape began to form, and Carmine readied herself for what was about to appear. Like she said, the spirit would appear with how it looked during its strongest memory, and Carmine feared that that memory would be Joan being burned alive. She was surprised, however, when a young woman with short hair appeared, wearing a spotted tunic with armour, and a soft smile, not a burn mark on her.

“Greetings.” The ghost said to Carmine, to which the woman only nodded in reply, looking down at the small kwami beside her who had gone completely still, her face showing an expression of pure shock as she stared at the French woman in front of her.

Joan looked towards where Carmine’s eyes were, blinking slightly before giving a bright smile “Greetings Tikki, it is good to see you in good health-“

“Joan!” Tikki finally cried out, flying towards the ghost only to be stop by Gladiolus bitting onto her tail, Tikki tried to protest but seemed to remember the spirit would not have a body for her to hold.

Tears gathered in her large blue eyes as she stared at the ghostly Specter, who looked at Tikki with a soft, somber smile “Joan, I am so sorry! I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you! I’m sorry for what happened, for everything those bastards did you! You didn’t deserve it! You were young, and glorious! You were an amazing Ladybug, and you were so... so...” the kwami let out a soft hiccup as large tear dropped fell from the Kwami’s eyes onto the table, her entire form trembling as Gladiolus slowly released the Kwami’s tail.

Joan continued to look down at Tikki with a sad smile “Tikki, you have nothing to apologize for, as I told you before I renounced you.” The spirit said gently to the trembling kwami “Even if I was to replay that day a million times I would not change a thing. I did what I felt was right, what my intuition told me was the right thing to do.” Joan said gently “I do not blame you Tikki, and more importantly, you should not blame yourself.”

Tikki continued to cry and hiccup, looking at the spirit in front of her “Y... you didn’t need to die that day, you were young, so very very young...” the kwami cried, the fat tears still falling from her eyes.

Joan gave a small shake of her head “Oh Tikki... everyone must die one day. ‘Even creation must one day come to an end’, you told me that.” She said with a small smile “I have no regrets Tikki, and nether should you. You need not forget about me, but do not focus on me. Focus on your new bug, who is doing amazing, I might add.”

Tikki hiccuped once again, a small smile on her face “... She is a very good bug, she reminds me a lot of you. So passionate and kind...” she said softly.

Joan’s form began to fade slightly, and Tikki panicked, looking at Joan “Joan!” She looked back towards Carmine, to beg her have her stay but stopped short at what she saw.

Carmine, who had been eerily quiet, was extremely pale, a layer of sweat was all over her, her hair even appearing to become wet. Her body was trembling slightly, not from fear, but from concentration on the task at hand. Gladiolus had one paw on her, as if to offer some semblance of support for his mage as he glanced between Carmine, to Tikki, to Joan.

Carmine glanced down at Tikki, her eyes a some ember colour, as she gave a weak smile “Keep going, I’m fine...”

“It’s not wise to lie, Mlle Regal.” Joan said in a slight scolding tone, looking at Tikki with a small, sad smile “... as you’ve stated, her magic domain isn’t exactly creation, however it is not necromancy either... this is taking a toll on her.”

“I am fine.” Carmine insisted, her eyes which had dulled slightly from their ember colour becoming brighter again momentarily “Just... out of practice... keep going Tikki, I’ll be fine.”

Tikki let out a soft, sniffling sound. She wanted to say it was fine, that she was fine... but she knew Carmine would know she was lying, so she turned to Joan, a soft smile on her face “... let me tell you about my Ladybug...”

Tikki spoke of Marinette for awhile, than of how Paris was know in the so far future, as well as how people now remembered Joan not as a villain but as the hero she was. Every so often she would look back towards Carmine, who was still so concentrated on the task at hand, who was no doubt using every bit of her magical will to keep Joan here, but would still give Tikki a small, strained smile, and told her to continued.

This continued on for another fifteen minutes before Tikki finally looked at Joan sadly “... I think I’m ready to say goodbye...” she said to Joan softly, who in return gave Tikki a small smile.

“Goodbye Tikki, And thank you.”

“G... goodbye.” Tikki said, the tears returning however she still smiled at Joan as her spirit slowly disappeared, Carmine murmuring softly under her breath to release the spirit as the candle lights returned to each of their candles.

The moment each candle light returned to their candles Carmine suddenly slumped onto the table, panting heavily. Gladiolus began to lick her face, nuzzling it as Carmine looked over at him, giving him a weak smile “I know Gladio... don’t worry, I’ll be fine...” she said, feeling utterly exhausted. Doing a spell outside of her domain for that long would have consequences, she knew she would not be able to do any major spells for at least another three days, and even minor ones would probably hurt her. She looked towards Tikki, who was still starring at the chair where Joan once sit “... Tikki?”

Tikki slowly turned, her eyes red from the tears, to the point where it looked like she only had her blue irises for eyes, but she smiled at Carmine “... thank you.... thank you so much. I feel so.... so light now.... thank you.” She said with the utmost sincerity. Carmine’s gave a small, tired smile back, only nodding in response.

It had been totally worth it to give the Kwami of creation the closure she needed.

#ladybug au #ml au #carmine regal #counsellor au #tikki #ml angst #ml tears #previous miraculous users #ML Joan of Arc

[geminiamethyst]

Possession. Chapter 6.

Okay. This chapter came out a bit quicker than I thought it would. I thought it would take longer than this to get it out.

Anyway, here’s the usual speech: if you have not read the previous chapters, do so NOW, otherwise the story will literally make zero sense. Links to them are at the end of the chapter.

Onto the chapter.

The more the family on the outside talked about their memories of Snufkin, the traveller continued to work away at giving his message. He didn’t panic when the room went dark completely. He figured that they blindfolded him because someone, most likely Moominpappa, had noticed that he was doing Morse Code, and they didn’t want the spirit to know this while they were translating in front of him. He kept focusing on what he needed to pass on, but at the same time he had been distracting the spirit with fake thoughts, keeping him away from the fact that his right hand was not in his control. Aside from tapping his own hand, Snufkin didn’t move or speak. However, he felt a tear go down his face as Moomin spoke up about him being a part of the family. He ignored it the best he could, focusing only on the message that he was trying to send. His right hand worked tirelessly, subconsciously remembering what each letter translated as in Morse Code. He tried to go as fast as he could, but at the same time, he tried to be steady. He didn’t want the spirit to work out what was going on.

“What are they planning?”

Snufkin opened his eyes to see the spirit’s shadow in front of him, back turned to him. He was staring at the blocked out window. Snufkin could feel the frustration and confusion radiating from him, sending a foreboding chill down his spine. Immediately, he started to move his left hand. He knows that he isn’t in control of it, but he didn’t want the spirit to get suspicious as to why he was only moving his right hand. He tried to make it look like he was trying to keep up the blood circulation in his limbs. The spirit turned to the traveller, the scarlet eyes glaring right into his soul. Snufkin tried not to show fear, but he couldn’t help an involuntary shiver go down his spine once again. The spirit levitated and stopped inches away from his face.

“Tell me!” He demanded, his voice echoing through the room. Snufkin felt the band on his mouth disappear, allowing him to speak again.

“How should I know? I’m just as left in the dark as you are.” He said, trying his hardest not to smile. He so badly wanted to, to mock the spirit as he had been mocked by the supernatural entity before. However, he couldn’t. He must not bring himself to do that, otherwise all this effort to deliver his message would be for nothing.

Little My sat in silence as Moomin was telling his memory to Snufkin. She couldn’t hear it as she lost track of what everyone was talking about. It had all become a blur to her. She didn’t know if that was because the power of sleep was starting to make itself known to her or the words of the spirit still lingered in her mind. She didn’t think on it much when it was said, as she was too focused to try to give Snufkin back at least some control of his own body back. However, it was starting to slowly creep back into her, like a predator stalking its prey before striking. She wondered if what the spirit said was true, about Snufkin never forgiving her and that he didn’t want her as a sister. She felt more guilty at herself for all the mean things that she had done and said. From calling Snufkin a mistake and not apologising for it when she should have, to fighting all the time with Joxter. It was making her hard to focus on the environment around her.

Moominmamma glanced over at the small girl, noticing how unusually silent she had become. She could tell that she had something on her mind.

“Are you okay, Little My?” The mother asked, sitting down next to her. Madame Portia, who had been sitting on the other side of the couch, glanced over at the pair from the corner of her eye.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m letting that spirit get in my head.” Little My shrugged, not looking at Moominmamma. Her eyes shifted to the floor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Moominmamma gently asked, trying to piece together what was on the girl’s mind. Little My seemed to slump over, her back arching a little, her shoulders slagging.

“On Halloween, at the party, Joxter and I got into another argument. And I said the wrong thing that I directed at Snufkin by accident. Looking back on it now, maybe if I had said sorry, this wouldn’t have happened.” She said, her eyes starting to sting. Her furiously rubbed them, trying to prevent the tears from falling.

“This isn’t on you, dear. None of this is your fault. It was probably bound to happen either way. Everyone makes mistakes, that’s what makes us who we are. Also, the reason why we make mistakes is so then we can learn from them, as to not repeat them.” Moominmamma sighed, rubbing the small girl’s back consolingly.

“I know, but, maybe if I had been a better sister, and never argued so much with Joxter, it could’ve maybe at least prevented it for a while.” Little My sighed, sinking deeper into her seat. Moominmamma gently took her chin and raised her head so she could look at her in the eye.

“You’re already being a better sister. You’re saving Snufkin. And I think, that he is very proud of you right now for not giving up on him.” Moominmamma told her with a reassuring smile.

“Thanks Moominmamma. I think that you’ve boosted my confidence a little more.” Little My smiled, looking right up at the mother. “And, you’ve given me an idea on what to say next.”

“You should be thanking yourself, child. Moominmamma may have given you back some confidence, but I know, deep down you were going to apologise to the boy in the first place at the end of the evening. No time like the present.” Madame Portia politely added, gesturing towards Snufkin, with Moomin almost finishing his story.

“No time like the present.” Little My quietly repeated as she jumped down from the couch. She approached the boy. When Moomin stopped talking, he stepped aside to let her speak to Snufkin. Upon hearing the small footsteps, Snufkin suddenly started to make the small animal like growling noises as he was earlier.

“Hey Snufkin. Look I know you can hear me in there, so I want you to pay extra special attention. On Halloween, when I said that you were a mistake, I didn’t mean it. I was angry. I always am, but when it came to talking to Joxter, it did get a little out of control, if not more. I wanted to vent my anger out and I wasn’t thinking. Siblings fight, believe me, our sister and I argue a lot. But what I did was bullying, and was inexcusable and I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me, I don’t think I deserve it but...” Little My stopped mid sentence, feeling her throat clench from raw emotion. She feverishly wipes her eyes again, trying to keep herself from falling apart. “I just wanted you to hear what I had to say. I’m truly sorry, and once we get you back, I’ll pay you back big time for it. Make you servant for a day. Never have me talk to you again. You name it! I just want my little brother back!” Joxter, whom had been standing silently in the corner of the room, finally started to move. He knelt down next to Little My and rubbed her back. She looked up to see a thin smile on his lips, a way for him to say “thank you”.

Moominpappa watched the limb closely as Little My’s speech seemed to have been the last push that Snufkin needed. He observed each tap, writing down what each letter code meant. He stopped just as the pattern was repeating again, but he didn’t need to observe anymore. He looked down at what he had written. Only two words, but it was just enough for Snufkin to give his message. He glanced over at the family and nodded his head. Everyone instantly knew what that had meant. Message received. Moominmamma stood up and wiped her paws on her apron.

“Since everyone is getting tired, why don’t we all have some coffee to help wake ourselves up.” She said, clearly gesturing to the dining room. Everyone caught on and started filing out of the drawing room. Joxter hesitated, glancing down at Snufkin. A part of him didn’t want to leave his son alone, with only the spirit to torture him even further. However, he knew that no matter what he did to get through to Snufkin, the only response he would get is that animalistic growling and the tapping of his right hand. It wasn’t fair to have these events that played tonight. All this time, he thought Snufkin was safe, but in the end, he was always in danger.

He felt something tug on his pant leg. He looked down and saw Little My, trying futilely and almost comically to drag him into the dining room. Joxter took a deep breath, clearing his mind of his worries for a second. He complied, not wanting to keep everyone waiting. He looked back at Snufkin one last time, before closing the door, to keep the spirit from listening to the conversation in the room next door.

“My...” Snufkin whispered, a tear slowly going down his cheek. That was all that he wanted to hear from her before the seance. A full heart felt apology. It was working as he felt himself getting stronger.

“How pathetic! As if I’ll let you go that easily! They can talk about you all they want, but you’re mine, and until I do what I want, you’ll be my vessel for as long as I see fit!”

“I don’t belong to anyone! Even YOU know that!” Snufkin protested, angry tears going down his face. “I’m not afraid of you.” The spirit drifted right up to him, until he was once again inches away from Snufkin’s face. Snufkin didn’t dare look away from the spirit, challenging him to give in first. The spirit leaned over to Snufkin’s ear.

“You should be.” He hissed, causing the vagabond to shiver uncontrollably. “I used to love terrorising you as a child. Every nightmare I forced upon you, used to fill me with such joy. Until you stopped worrying about them that is.” Snufkin suddenly did something that surprised even him. He somehow found the strength to lean forward and bit where the spirit’s ear should be. And it wasn’t a nip either. It was a full on chop that would make Little My proud. The spirit let out an inhuman wail. Snufkin didn’t let go until he felt a punch to the gut.

“You stupid boy! I’m going to make you suffer dearly for this! Just count you’re lucky stars that I can’t kill you!” The spirit yelled, as Snufkin breathed deeply to get back the air that was knocked right out of him.

“Since everyone is getting tired, why don’t we all have some coffee to help wake ourselves up.” Moominmamma could be heard. Both spirit and traveller looked up to listen to what was going on. The sounds of footsteps could be heard as clear as day. One of them stopped for a few seconds, but continued to walk away before a door could be heard shut.

“See? They’ve abandoned you, just like your pathetic father did.” The spirit smirked.

“I highly doubt it.” Snufkin smirks right back, knowing what was going on. His message has gotten through to the family outside. He felt like a lot of weight had been taken off of his shoulders. He’s done it. Now all he needs to do is wait. He felt his body outside moving, resisting the restraints that were used to hold him. The spirit is still determined to break free. Suddenly all movement stopped.

“Something’s wrong.” The spirit muttered. Snufkin realised that he was still in control of his hand. He quickly relinquished control back to the spirit, but not before the spirit looked right at him, his red eyes flaring bright with anger. “What have you done?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Snufkin said quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. He knows that he doesn’t have to play dumb anymore but he didn’t want to be hurt by the spirit again.

“Your right hand. Why wasn’t I in control of it?!” The entity yelled, face right up close to the traveller’s.

“Maybe you’re not as strong as you think you are.” Snufkin said, smirking a little. The spirit narrowed his eyes as Snufkin continued. “All this time, you thought that you were winning. Let me give you one piece of advise. Next time you think you’re winning, don’t give your opponent your weakness.”

“What did you do?” The spirit demanded, his voice getting higher in volume.

“I told every single one of my family to close the Gate, idiot! And once they do, you’ll be sent back to the dark hole you crawled out from.” Snufkin shouted back. The spirit looked down. Snufkin watched as his outline started to shake. At first he thought he was going to have a tantrum, just like he used to when he was alive. The spirit suddenly threw back his head and laughed maniacally. Snufkin looked at him with a confused look on his face.

“You fool! By telling them about the Gate, you have also sealed your on death sentence!” The spirit continued to cackle, his laughter echoing around the room. Snufkin looked at him with wide eyes, his confidence suddenly abandoning him. Did the spirit mean for him to tell the others about the Gate? And if so, was he really going...to...die?

“‘Close gate’. What does that mean?” Moomin asked, tilting his head a little at the message. Everyone was seated around the table, each had a warm cup of coffee or tea at their side. They looked at the message that Moominpappa was able to translate from Snufkin’s Morse Code.

“Wait a minute! Madame, didn’t you say something about a gate at the start of the seance?” Moominpappa asked, remembering everything before the whole mess started. Everyone stared at the medium. She seemed to have impossibly hunch her back even more, making it look more like half of an oval than an arch like before. Her face was down cast, with her skin sagging off even more. Her hair was slowly falling out of her head scarf, proving how exhausted she had become during the whole evening.

“Yes. The Gate is the key to giving spirits enough strength to communicate with the living.” She finally said, referring back to what she had already explained.

“So, if we close the Gate, then the spirit will be too weak to posses Snufkin and leave us alone, right?” Moomin asked, piecing together what few pieces lay before him.

“You’re half right. By closing the Gate we will also be able to send the spirit to the other side.” The medium muttered, her face seemed to be falling even further.

“Then why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?!” Joxter suddenly yelled, standing up and slamming his hands on the table. It shook, causing little ripples in the hot beverages that everyone had. No one scolded him for his actions as they all felt as flustered as he was. They wasted so much time and energy, when this whole mess could’ve been sorted by simply having Madame Portia close the Gate in the first place.

“BECAUSE SOMEONE DIED LAST TIME!” Madame Portia screamed, her voice echoing throughout the whole house. Everyone stared at her in shock.

What did she just say?

Chapter 1: click HERE

Chapter 2: click HERE

Chapter 3: click HERE

Chapter 4: click HERE

Chapter 5: click HERE

Chapter 7: click HERE

#possession #moomin #moominmamma #moominpappa #little my #snufkin #joxter #spirit #madame portia #oc

[af-answers]

Orion and the Two Heads

They all stared at the head staring up at the ceiling, unblinking. For a horrible minute, Orion was afraid he’d actually managed to kill a dead man. Then, the head began to laugh.

“Yes! Yes! This is what I’m talking about! Come over here, me, and pick me up!”

His body lurched forward, accidentally kicking the head to the other side of the room.

“Oof! Got to get used to this!”

The children waited patiently for Nick’s body to retrieve his head, Orion getting over the shock first, then Harry, then Hermione, and finally Ron.

“Now, I believe you promised us the location of another head,” Orion prompted.

Nick looked up at his severed neck, which “looked” down at him.

“I will tell you,” he said, gritting his teeth, “a deal is a deal, after all. But I wouldn’t have made it if I thought you’d actually be able to do it.”

Harry crossed his arms, bending at the waist to meet Nick’s eyes. “Where’s the head, Sir Nicholas?”

“We’re not going!” Ron whispered over breakfast the next morning.

“Nick said the head can only be found under the light of a full moon,” Hermione said, “so we need to make the decision soon. After tonight, it will begin waning.”

“Going that far into the Forbidden Forest?” Harry pushed aside a half-eaten pumpkin muffin. “Are we sure it’s worth it?”

“Besides,” Ron said, “no one knows why the head has been hidden. All history of the Valeron family has been lost. He could be a seriously wicked dude.”

“Or he could be an innocent. His body seems nice and well mannered enough,” Hermione countered. “Bottom line is, we won’t know anything for certain until we find him.”

The three looked over at Orion, who had been silent for most of the morning. The sudden intelligence he’d exhibited the night before had worn off, leaving a cowed boy in its wake. To be honest, Orion was trying hard not to think. He wasn’t sure what Artemis had access to anymore, and he couldn’t risk him finding out about the plan.

“I think,” he said, fiddling with his fork, “I’m not sure how much longer I have in control of this body. I can feel Art-Arthur chipping away at the walls holding him back, and I—“ he closed his eyes “— I want to live life to the fullest while I have one, you know?”

The Gryffindors were silent, the chatter of the other children pushing in on them.

“We’re here for you, Orion,” Ron said, squeezing his shoulder. “You wanna go out with a bang? You’ve come to the right people: mischief and adventure seems to follow us around.” He extended a fist toward his Slytherin friend.

A smile tugged at the corners of Orion’s mouth, and he bumped his fist against Ron’s. “To glory,” he said.

That night, the four friends rendezvoused at the pumpkin patch behind Hagrid’s hut. The three Gryffindors had the benefit of the Cloak, but the Slytherin house had a chess tournament that night, so Orion had to sneak out at a later time and meet them separately.

“Do we have everything?” Hermione whispered, ducking out from under the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry looked in his knapsack. “Map, candles, trowels, Seances for Dummies, cooking sherry—“

“—and a head-sized trash bag.” Ron finished.

Orion swooped down on a broom, dismounting two meters from the ground and flipping the broom handle over his shoulder with a grace Artemis could only envy.

“Are we ready?” he asked, propping the broom amongst Hagrid’s other gardening tools.

“As we’ll ever be,” Ron said, shaking from his shoulders to his feet to limber himself up.

“Right, straight to it, then,” Harry said, taking out the map and handing it to Hermione.

The four entered the dark woods as they always did: with fear and a heaping helping of ignorance.

After hearing a wolf howl in the distance, the students decide to sacrifice speed for safety and cluster under the Cloak. They arrived at the Whomping Willow without incident, when the moon was high in the sky.

“Hurry and find the marker,” Hermione whispered, holding the map up to the moonlight. “And stay clear of the Willow, whatever you do.”

The young wizards searched the area, lighting their way with their wands. A few minutes later:

“I think I found it!” Harry cried. His friends joined him at a shallow hill that had been bisected at some point, exposing its rocky innards. Near the ground and concealed by shrubbery the crest of the house of Valeron glowed in the light of the full moon: two winged snakes twined around a book with holes in it.

“There’s some heavy symbolism there,” Hermione said, crouching down. “Shall we begin?”

An hour and a meter of dirt later, Orion’s trowel struck metal. The friends looked at each other, then abandoned their shovels in unison, excavating the box with their hands. Soon, they hefted a metal box to the surface. A thick chain encircled it and a padlock held it shut.

“I’m getting bad vibes,” Ron said, standing and backing away. “No one puts a big, bloody chain on a box with only a head in it without good reason.”

“Perhaps it was one of Lord Valeron’s enemies, to punish him in the after life.” Orion pointed out. “In any case, I won’t have come all this way for nothing.”

He brandished his wand. “Alohomora,” he said.

Nothing.

“It makes sense that a chest this protected couldn’t be unlocked by a simple charm,” Hermione mused.

“We could try the old fashioned way,” Harry suggested. “Smash it off with a rock.”

“Maybe we don’t need to open it,” Hermione said. She tugged on Harry’s backpack. “We want to talk to a ghost, remember? Ghosts can phase through things. All we have to do is wake him up.”

Hermione retrieved the candles, sherry, and seance book. They arranged five candles in a circle around the box and lit them with magic.

“Animum sapientis,” she intoned, pouring the sherry over the box. “Accipit, expergiscimini, surrecturus!”

Only the chirping of crickets and the whistling of the wind could be heard on the small hillock.

“Did you hear that?” Orion asked.

When the others only gave him blank stares, he crouched before the box, tilting his head toward it. “I hear something inside,” he said, and the others fell to their knees, too.

“Dementor?” he repeated, then shook his head. “No, dimittere. Dimittere mortuis.” The candles all extinguished at once, and the padlock unhinged with a clink.

For a long moment, none of the children moved, but all stared at the box. Orion reached forward, removed the lock, and swept the chains off the chest.

He reeled back when the lid flew open of its own accord. A skull rolled forward in the tiny casket, its blazing green eyes flicking from person to person.

“My greatest gratitude to you youths!” it haled in a high-pitched trill. “I’d almost despaired of anyone setting me free.”

“Much obliged,” Hermione said with a small curtsy.

“But we’re here with a purpose,” Orion said. “We were told you knew— secrets.”

“Everyone knows secrets, my boy,” The skull of Lord Valeron pointed out. “Are the secrets I know worth sharing? That’s the question.”

“I’m guessing your secrets have something to do with the afterlife and immortality,” Harry posited, his arms crossed over his chest, “or we wouldn’t even be able to have this conversation face to face.”

“Or face to.. bone?” Ron corrected.

“Clever children,” the head replied. “But I like to keep my secrets. However, as a show of gratitude, here’s what I’ll do. You can ask me three questions, and if I like them, I’ll answer them.”

“How about, you answer our questions or we lock you back in the box?” Ron threatened.

The head leered at him, but then, the skinless face always appeared to be leering. “I think you’ll find locking this chest will be infinitely more difficult than unlocking it.”

“Fine,” Orion interjected. “We take you offer.”

“Alright,” the head fixed its fiery gaze on Orion. “First question.”

“How is your ghost split into two pieces without the other half not being able to find you?”

Lord Valeron sighed. “The obvious question, but I’ll humor you. Secret number one: I didn’t die from decapitation.”

The wizards exchanged surprised glances.

“I made known that once I passed on, I wished for my head to be removed, put in this box, and sent to my ancestral home in Scotland. The chains and ridiculous hiding spot were not my idea. But how did I do it?” The green eyes squinted up. “It was simple, really, but also wholly dependent on my personality. Or rather, personalities.” The head rolled its eyes, and Orion imagined he’d be shrugging if he had shoulders. “I had a split personality, one I didn’t quite get on with. So the one part of my consciousness got my body after death, and I inherited the head. Seems like I got the short end of the deal, literally, but I don’t mind. I do love to talk.”

A vibrating sensation buzzed behind Orion’s left eye and an odd excitement zinged through his limbs. Orion swallowed hard. This wasn’t good: Artemis had had an epiphany.

Hermione frowned. “Why did—“

“Would it be possible to separate a ghost from a body, before the person were dead?”

Hermione looked at him with confusion and dawning horror.

Orion, on the other hand, was confused by the words tumbling out of his mouth in Artemis’s voice. As soon as they had been spoken, the vibration stopped.

Lord Valeron blinked. “You catch on swiftly: a wizard after my own heart. I did do some experiments in that vein during my life. The nearest I got to succeeding cost me my own life. Let’s see if you can ascertain: what creature do we know who specializes in the extraction of souls?”

Harry’s green eyes widened. “Dementors,” he whispered.

Lord Valeron winked at him. “Right you are. I allowed a dementor to suck out my soul with the intention of cutting it off midstream and releasing my ghost, or half of it, at least. But I underestimated the its power, my plan backfired, and, well—“

Ron frowned. “That makes no sense. Dementors don’t kill, they feed on the soul. If it backfired, shouldn’t you have turned into a soulless husk with no ghost to haunt Hogwarts?”

“And why did someone chain you up and hide you in the woods?” Hermione asked.

The head cackled. “An excellent question. One I’d be delighted to answer.”

The skull floated above the casket on a cloud of green, which swirled and solidified into a skeletal shape.

“Why did they hide me away? Because I was my last experiment. And along the way, I figured out how to destroy the soul from the inside.” He flexed his new body, and a shimmering robe materialized over it, held closed by a belt in the shape of a snake. “A happy side effect, when one’s goal is to take over Hogwarts. And now I can fulfill that dream from beyond the grave,” Lord Valeron stepped out of the box and past the circle of candles. “Thanks to you.”

#and they keep making things worse #hogwarts au #orion fowl #Hermione Granger #Harry Potter #Ron Weasley

[aranciafiamma]

The Seance

Summary: You should be careful when summoning spirits. You never know who’s going to answer your call. (Mob dies. Ritsu does not cope well and makes some Very Bad decisions.)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 4.5

They agree to meet the following day. Until then, Ritsu does his best to help  around the house. He fixes the kitchen then cooks some rice. He throws out old takeout boxes and collects the dirty laundry. He keeps a glass of water next to Mom and lets Dad nap through the afternoon. He does all of this without using his powers - mostly because he's tired. But every now and again, he flexes his senses, just hoping to catch a glimpse.

He finds nothing. He refuses to panic. At dinner, he makes a suggestion. "Maybe you should go back to work," he says, taking a careful sip of his tea. It's just him and Dad. Mom turned in early. Ritsu will keep some leftovers for her. She tends to wake up at a later hour and wanders around the house. It's a bit creepy honestly. She won't turn on any of the lights, and her footsteps are nearly silent. Just a couple days ago, Dad nearly had a heart attack when he ran into her on his way to the bathroom. Now they keep a couple of lamps on through the night. "Oh yeah?" Dad says, taking a bite. It's just egg over rice because that's all Ritsu knows how to make. He insisted on making dinner just to prove he can. And he did, for the most part. It's not a five-star meal. But it's edible. "You've been away for too long. I know you're worried about us. But I'm doing better. I can take care of Mom." "Is that what today was all about? All those chores... Well then, what about you? When are you going back to school?" "I can miss a month and I'll be fine. But we can't miss a month of paychecks." "Let your old man worry about money. You just focus on getting better." "Dad." Ritsu thumps a fist against the table. His chopsticks held in a wood-splintering grip. "Please. I'm not a kid-" "You're thirteen." "So I am. But that doesn't mean I'm dumb. Or blind. Don't tell me everything is fine when it's not. I want to help."

Dad rubs his temples. "And can you? Just yesterday, you were still spaced out. Where is all this coming from?" "I snapped out of it." "For good? How can I be sure you'll be okay for a whole day?" Ritsu grinds his teeth. He picks at his rice, pushing it around the bowl. His thoughts flip through several possible answers. "A half-day," he finally replies. "Come home early. You'll see that everything's fine. And you don't need to worry." "Not worry," Dad snorts, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. This kid telling me not to worry..." But he thinks about it. Ritsu can tell from the way he trails off. The idea has been planted. It just needs time to grow. The rest of dinner passes by in silence. "It would be nice to see what everyone's managed to do..." Dad mutters more to himself.

'Everyone' must mean his co-workers. Ritsu is sure of it. He watches Dad fold just an inch more. Keeping his gaze low, he picks up his bowl and heads for the sink. He hums a (hopefully) happy tune as he starts washing the dishes. Boy, he does love washing dishes. And he does such a nice job too. Look at him go. He's so capable and responsible. What a good lad, that Ritsu. Geez. What Ritsu wouldn't give to be Takenaka right now. Thankfully, Dad does notice. He sets his plate in the sink then watches him happily wash that too. After an eternity (one minute), he finally comes to a decision. "A half day. I'll be home by one." Ritsu whips around to face him.  "You got it!" "Your mom will probably sleep through the morning. Especially if she stays up tonight. So there shouldn't be much for you to look out for. But you know to call me if anything comes up, right?" "Yessir." Ritsu sloppily salutes him with a sudsy hand. This earns him a slow, timid smile from Dad. It's warm the way old bathrobes are warm in the winter mornings. He pats him gently on the shoulder. "Okay... Okay..."

As promised, the next day finds Hanazawa at the Kageyama doorstep. Dad’s gone to work, Mom’s still asleep. She was up late, rearranging the spice cabinet for no apparent reason. It leaves Ritsu and Hanazawa to do their work undisturbed. Or they would be working if Hanazawa stopped loitering about.

“What are you doing? Come inside,” Ritsu snaps.

Hanazawa just stands there, looking wistfully inside. “I never visited your home before.” He gives Ritsu a goofy-looking smile, all dewy-eyed and lopsided. “Did you know Kageyama-kun was the very first guest I had at my apartment? I think some part of me always meant to repay that visit, but I didn’t realize until now.”

Ritsu huffs out a short breath. “That’s very sad. Are you going to help me or not?”

Hanazawa ignores him, shaking his head, sighing a little, taking his sweet time to walk in. Ritsu wants to find the cameras Hanazawa puts on a show for, just so he can look straight into the lens and communicate his dismay.

They do eventually get started. Ritsu takes him through the house, explaining as they go.

“But you haven’t felt it since?” Hanazawa asks.

Ritsu pauses here, staring at his feet. “... No… Not exactly.”

They’re outside his bedroom. Hanazawa is leaning against the wall. Ritsu chances a glance and finds a blank expression on his face. But that could mean anything. For someone so flamboyant, the older boy can hide his true opinions well. An awkward silence stretches between them.

Then Hanazawa breaks out into a grin, dazzling and stunning - as in Ritsu gets momentarily stunned by it.

“Ah well. It could just be an exceedingly powerful spirit. Those can hide their presences quite well. I understand why it’d be a concern. You haven’t quite developed your powers, after all. It could prove a challenge for you to exorcise.”

“No!” Ritsu blurts out, before clapping a hand over his mouth. Glancing over his shoulder, he listens for any sign of Mom waking up.

“Ritsu-kun?”

He slaps his other hand over Hanazawa’s face, a bit harder than necessary maybe. The contact did make a satisfying smack. And it does manage to shut him up as Ritsu strains his ears. A good minute passes and he hears nothing from his parents’ bedroom. He breathes out slowly and turns back to Hanazawa, lowering his hands. A blue-eyed, baleful glare greets him.

“You were saying?” Hanazawa says through clenched teeth, his grin pulled tight in the corners.

“Ah, yeah. You can’t exorcise the ghost, okay? I just need you to help me find it.”

“But why not?”

Right. Why not. That is a good question… Ritsu should definitely have an answer for that. Somewhere. C’mon, brain. Think of something.

“It could be a friendly ghost,” he shrugs.

Hanazawa gives him an eloquent look.

How the heck did Nii-san think he was smart. It was all a lie. It was a lie so good, even he - himself - believed it. Reigen, the fraudster extraordinaire, had nothing on him, Ritsu Kageyama. He squeezes his eyes shut, thoughts turning into scrambled jibberish and screaming.

Hanazawa turns away from him. His gaze appears to search the hallway, but Ritsu guesses it’s more to avoid watching him breakdown. A nice effort to be tactful, all things considered. Ritsu said something very stupid and if he got called out, then he deserved it. He grudgingly appreciates the courtesy.

“... Well, I don’t sense anything,” Hanazawa says. “But you felt it at night, correct?”

Inhaling deeply, Ritsu tries to appear calm. “Yeah. I did.”

Hanazawa looks at him, catching his gaze. “Then perhaps I should return later. We might have better luck catching it then.”

Ritsu hums, thinking it over. “That… Okay, yeah. We can do that. But… it’s just… Isn’t it a bit early for me to be inviting people over? Dad might be okay. But Mom…”

“What? Oh pfft no!” Hanazawa smiles - for real this time. “Didn’t I tell you? I don’t want to bother you or your family. No one has to know I’m here. Believe it or not, I can be discreet.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ritsu nods. “But I do trust you. I’ll keep my window open and you can come in through there - what’s with the look?”

Hanazawa’s jaw hangs slack, his eyes blown wide open. He’s speechless for all of ten, maybe twelve, seconds before he recovers. “Did you just - What was - You trust me?”

Ritsu will forever treasure those ten seconds. “... You’re gonna make me regret saying this. I mean, yes. You are an insufferable prat. But you come through when it counts.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever-”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I’m so touched that-”

“Don’t mention it.”

Hanazawa has the gall to smirk at him. Still, he keeps quiet.

“So we’re good then?” Ritsu asks, crossing his arms. “You’ll come back later?”

“Sure can.”

“I’ll see you then.” Ritsu starts heading for the front door. “Dad should be back after noon. It’s best for you to leave now.” He stops, turns to Hanazawa. “Wait. Don’t you have school?”

Hanazawa shrugs. “I skipped. It’s not like I’ve been doing well during lessons.”

Oh yeah. He couldn’t use the same excuse Ritsu has. He’s no one to the Kageyama family, just a boy who knew Nii-san. He has to attend school and pretend everything’s okay.

“How do you deal with it?” Ritsu can’t help but ask, half-curious and half-horrified.

“I’m not dealing with it. Everyday, it gets a little harder to go. But...” Hanazawa chuckles softly. “Edano’s been helping. He and his gang keep everyone from bothering me. They heard about ‘White T Poison’ and I suppose this was their way of paying respects.”

Ritsu can’t help but smile back - an expression of pain more than anything else. Mutual understanding blooms between them.

“Nii-san was really the best…”

“And he got everyone to do better.”

Studying Hanazawa, Ritsu notes the slump of his shoulders, the hollows of his cheeks, the way exhaustion spoils his every expression. He had been hospitalized after the big, city-breaking incident. It had been at the same hospital where Nii-san was rushed to. But in all the fuss, no one got around to telling him until right before the funeral. Nii-san had died just two floors down from him and he had never known.

Ritsu remembers clearly how Hanazawa looked at the funeral, half-mummified with bandages and barely able to stand. Everyone had been crying but he was stoic, still - the empty eye in a storm of grief. He had been the mirror image of Ritsu.

There’s so much Ritsu wants to say. “I’m sorry” and “You were left behind” and “Me too” and “I wish” - “I wish” - “I wish”. But wishes are only prayers in a different form. If there is some kind of higher being, he sure isn’t counting on them to help. It’s up to him.

So he tells Hanazawa, “Thank you.” It’s all he can say. Everything else gets stuck in his throat.

Hanazawa understands. He pats Ritsu on the shoulder before heading out. It’s not that they weren’t getting along before. But they were never this close. Nii-san would be happy to see it, even if it’s only because he…

Ritsu shakes his head. Tonight. They’ll figure it out - all of it. Then Nii-san won’t have to be alone much longer.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100

[somefantasticplace]

LIVING WITH MY WIFE AND HER FEMALE LOVER

His wife Sarah left him first for a builder and then for another woman. So what did funny man Vic Reeves do? He forgave her and now spends most of his time with her and her gay lover. The comedian tells Rebecca Hardy why he feels this unconventional set-up is bet for his children.

Vic Reeves' two-and-a-half year old son Louis is passionate about the children's cartoon character Bob The Builder. He watches the videos and knows the song: "Bob The Builder can we fix it? Bob The Builder yes we can." Vic sings in a different version: "Bob the Builder can we fix it? Bob The Builder can we ever."

Vic's wife Sarah ran off with a builder called Keith Burke four years ago. Vic hurt - a lot. When the affair foundered (she said it was a 'dreadful mistake'), he welcomed her back with open arms. Louis was the product of their reconciliation. They hoped a baby would help to cement things. Sadly, though, it didn't fix anything much.

Today, Sarah lives with her gay lover Julia Jones and Vic's two children - they also have a six year old daughter, Alice - in a sprawling house in Folkestone, Kent. Vic sleeps in the spare room. He has his own home in nearby Rye, East Sussex, but more often than not stays with Sarah and the children. He says he misses the children dreadfully when he's not with them. He continues to call Sarah 'my wife'.

"Some people might think it's weird but I like being there. I like being with them," he says. "Sarah and I split up at the start of last year. We'd got to a stage where we weren't getting on very well. I don't know if it was anything to do with Sarah's sexuality - it probably was.  It's also very hard living with someone who's in the public eye the whole time. It's difficult to accept that your partner is constantly noticed. You might be in a pub and people say, 'oh look, it's you.' They home in on you and ignore whoever you're with.

"It was difficult for Sarah to find her own way. I think she wanted something else. She always likes to be doing something. We decided to separate and it was probably  about six months later that she got involved with Julia. She was a friend before all this and she's still a friend. She's a really nice girl. It's great to be in this situation with someone you know rather than somebody you don't know.

"The children completely accept everything. Just because you have an unconventional life it doesn't mean the children are going to suffer. They are very, very happy children. I don't think they're aware of the sexual side. They're too young. It's not something we'll have to consider until later.

"Ideally it would be very nice just to have a family unit - mummy, daddy, kids. But when things get taken away, you can't just say, 'oh, that's it,' and walk away. You discuss it, talk about it and at some stage you have to accept the situation. It's like if you lose a leg, you fall over. There's only one solution, you have to get used to a prosthetic leg. If I'd said, 'right, I'm not having anything to do with this,' I wouldn't have been happy because I wouldn't have been involved.

"Now we just all much in together. I'm there all the time seeing the children. I get on fantastically well with Sarah and I've got two fantastic kids. I still put them to bed and take Alice to school."

Vic rarely reveals much about his private self. He is a comedian, a funnyman, a great British clown. With his partner, Bob Mortimer, he makes us laugh; side-splitting, stomach-knotting laughter that helps us forget our woes. Vic's woes are not part of the act. When his marriage fell apart, Vic kept his problems to himself. "I tended to deal with it on my own. I didn't want to get other people involved in a situation they might not want to talk about. I didn't want to bother or pester anyone. I get upset. I get as screwed up as anyone, but I'm not the sort of person who allows it to defeat me."

We meet in a London studio to discuss the BBC1 drama Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased), which co-stars Vic and Bob. This, a remake of the cult late-Sixties series in which Vic plays the ghost of detective Hopkirk, who returns to haunt his former partner Randall, is their first attempt at television drama. The action turns on a sixpence from comedy to melancholy, for the absurd to the sad, and is, quite truthfully, absolutely brilliant.

Vic is a genuinely funny man. He is also decent, kind, unfeigned;  the sort of bloke who often gets dumped on. During the filming of Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased), and following the breakdown of his marriage, Vic, 41, fell in love with actress Emilia Fox, 25, the daughter of Edward Fox. She played his fiancee in the series and soon they were engaged in real life, intending to marry this year.

On the face of it, it was a thoroughly modern, happy affair that suited everyone. Emilia was wonderful with Vic, and wonderful with the children. She didn't seem to bat an eyelid over the fact that his soon-to-be-ex-wife was now gay. They even went on holiday with Sarah, Julia and the children and planned to spend Christmas and the Millennium together. But the relationship had ended before the Christmas tree was decorated.

"You work really closely with somebody and get on with them really well and things occur. After a marriage ends you start to look, not necessarily for a replacement, but for someone else. Perhaps it's something you shouldn't do," says Vic. "In the end, I decided that I wanted to be on my own. I don't want to be unfair to Millie. We were in love with each other and it was very good. But there is this bond with the kids which is hard to explain. It's difficult especially if you've got young children who want and shall have constant attention. Even though another person can love your children, it's still a barrier. You're the one who's closest to them and I love my children more than anything else on earth."

Vic is speaking with unusual candour. It unsettles him. "I wouldn't like to make this a habit," he says. "I am very private and families should be private things." Vic was a happy child. He was born Jim Moir, sharing the name with his father and grandfather and, rather uncannily, a January 24th birthday. "Precision grinding, as someone one said". His father was a Linotype operator who practiced funny walks and worked nights, so he could spend the day with Vic and his sister Lois. His mother was a stitcher.

"We're very close still,' he says. "We were always out walking and looking at things. We were encouraged to be interested in things and it was fun. I'd think, 'I can't wait to go to the library tonight.' All my friends would go off to the ABC film club on a Saturday morning and we'd go off to visit come castle or climb a mountain."

His mother also held seances on a Sunday evening. "I believe in ghosts somewhere along the line," he says. "I'd like to think you're guarded by a dead relative or something. I think my grandad may be keeping an eye on me because wherever I've lived, I've always felt a presence, as if somebody in the room is looking at me, or I've heard footsteps. I can't believe that everywhere I've ever lived has had a ghost in it."

Vic was particularly fond of his grandfather. He was an eccentric who wore a deerstalker hat, made fly-fishing hooks and put them in, but never fly-fished. "We used to go on holiday together," says Vic. "He did things that would probably be considered quite politically incorrect now. He'd dress me up as an Arab boy and send me off begging.

"He'd also pick a word out of the dictionary and say, 'when you come back next week you've got to have put that word into context in a conversation.' I was ten at the time and he'd pick really hard words like conglomeration. It's good to make up games and involve yourself with your children.

"I quite often get dressed up as a pirate with Alice and tell a story to her and her friends - the sort of thing my mum would do with us. Children have an innocence and imagination that isn't hampered by pride. Then, when you go to big school you get it slowly beaten out of you. I wouldn't allow it to be beaten out of me. I didn't want to lose the fun I was having. I could see there were children around me who were starting to become more adult and more afraid of saying and doing something stupid. Alice has a lot of fun, but she's also got a very old head on her shoulders. We'll have a good laugh together and be stupid but she's also very wordly. We're very honest with each other. Alice wouldn't hide anything from me."

Vic dotes upon his daughter and son. "Love for your child is unconditional. It's not even considered," he says. Alice was born in May 1993, four months after Vic married Sarah at Woolwich register office. They'd been seeing one another for two-and-a-half years and Vic truly believed the marriage would last for life. "I tried to use my parents as a role model," he says. "They're the closest, most loving couple I've ever come across."

Sadly though, within three years Sarah had embarked upon an affair with the builder employed to renovate their home. She knew Vic would have tried forever to make their marriage work, but was having none of it. She blamed Vic's career, his close friendship with comedy partner Bob Mortimer, his relationship with Shooting Stars colleague Ulrika Jonsson. "We didn't have an affair," he says. "But we were very, very good friends. It's odd this job. You'll be working with somebody and see them the whole time, then you won't see them for three years. I've been meaning to give her a ring, but I lost her phone number. In fact, I've lost everybody's phone number because I lost my book.

"I've got a few good friends - five or six. The older you get the less you have to have. Bob's a good friend. When you work with someone that long and you get on with them, you become almost psychic. When we're doing live stuff I can predict what he's going to say and vice versa.

"We've never argued but we don't see each other all the time. We'll go for five weeks not seeing each other and then we'll spend a long period together. It's to do with timing and leaving space. There's a very good bond between us. He wouldn't be the first person I'd call in a crisis, though. Bob's not very good in a crisis. If I had some very exciting news I'd probably ring Bob, otherwise I'd talk to Sarah, my first wife

Vic didn't like Keith the builder. He particularly didn't like the thought of him being around his daughter. "Sarah didn't have Alice," he says of that time. "She stayed with me." He was overjoyed when Sarah tired of her affair and returned to the family home. "I think anyone would want their family to survive," he says. It was a difficult reconciliation. Friends found they could not forgive Sarah, but Vic stood by her. "She's my wife, and if you don't like her than I want nothing to do with you," he's say. Then, Louis was conceived so very quickly.

"It's an odd thing with boys," says Vic. "I wouldn't give Louis a gun or an Action Man but that's the way boys naturally go. His current fascination is with cars crashing, so it's "crash, fire". We were on a plane going to my dad's and it was really turbulent. I don't mind turbulence on a plane but there were a lot of very nervous people. Louis was sitting there saying, "plane, crash, fire." It was so funny I didn't want to say, "no, don't say that."

Vic patently adores being a father. I suggest perhaps he is so accepting of his wife's  gay lover because she doesn't threaten his role as dad. "Yes, there is that," he says. "It is a lot easier." He is certainly not jealous, nor does he find the relationship an attack on his masculinity. "I would imagine some men probably would," he says. "I don't really think like that. I've never really done that beer-drinking, football crowd thing."

Is he concerned, though, that just as he tried to ape his parents' loving marriage, his children might use their mother and Julia as role models? "I'd probably hope Louis would be heterosexual from the point that I'd have grandchildren," he says. "If he was gay I'd want to help him. I'd want him to talk to me. He wouldn't have to hide it away. But it would make life easier if he was heterosexual."

Again, he starts to list Julia's merits. I'm sure he's right, that she is a lovely person. I also suspect kind, decent, dumped on Vic is trying to make the best of a mess. "There was something on Radio 4 the other day," he says. Ian McEwan was talking about his father. He said he was a brilliant character and that it was great when he saw him at the weekend. That he'd burst in smoking these fags and filling the room because he was a sergeant major and he bellowed. It made me think. There are parents at Alice's school who are working fathers and rarely see their children. I just muck in with my kids and see them as much as I can.

WEEKEND MAGAZINE, MARCH  2000

[trulymadlysydney]

HI SYD MY LITTLE PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE! HOW ARE YOOOUUU?? HOW WAS WORK? IN RESPONSE TO YOUR QUESTION YESTERDAY, I DO HAVE A FEW PLANS! I’M ACTUALLY PICKING MY SISTER UP FROM THE AIRPORT TONIGHT AT LIKE MIDNIGHT! I’M EXCITED BC 1. I HAVEN’T SEEN HER SINCE THIS TIME LAST YEAR AND 2. I LOVE AIRPORTS. 3. LATE NIGHT MINI ROAD TRIP TO AND FROM THE AIRPORT! AND BESIDES THAT, I’M CATCHING UP WITH FRIENDS, BIG FAMILY CHRISTMAS PARTY AND THEN CHRISTMAS IS BASICALLY HERE?? WHAT ABOUT YOU BABES?? J XXXXX

ALSO P.S. WHEN I READ YOUR DAD’S JOKE I CACKLED SO LOUD I WOKE MY DOG UP 😂 I SEE HIS JOKE AND RAISE HIM: WHY DID THE CHICKEN GO TO THE SEANCE? TO GET TO THE OTHER SIDE! J XX------HI BABE! Work was loooong as fuck and I have an 8 and a half hour shift tomorrow.  But its good.  That sounds so fun aw I LOVE AIRPORTS AND LATE NIGHT DRIVES TOO!! I don’t really have any plans except I think we’re spending Christmas day with our family friends.  Which will be really really fun.

ALSO I WILL TELL MY DAD YOUR JOKE WHEN HE GETS HOME.  He sent me a tonnn today but my favorite was when he sent, out of nowhere, “What did one ocean say to the other ocean?  Nothing, they just waved.  Sea what I did there? Don’t be a beach.”

[geminiamethyst]

Possession. Chapter 7.

Sorry this took a while guys, I’ve been busy with work and finishing college.

Okay so let’s get down with the usual speech: if you haven’t read the previous chapters, do me a favour and use the links at the end to bring yourself up to speed with it. If you don’t and you are beyond confused with where the story is going, then you have yourself to blame.

Enjoy the chapter!

“What...what do you mean ‘someone died last time’?” Moomin asked, his voice shaking was nothing compared to his trembling paws. Madame Portia looked down at the table in despair. The room had become so tense that you could pierce it with a sword. It had become cold too, almost like the Groke was standing in a dark corner of the room with them. Every light in the room flickered in response to the tension and the cold. Everyone around the medium didn’t dare speak or even breathe as they waited for her to get out of her frozen-like-a-statue state. The only sound that could be heard was the autumn wind battering again the windows. The panes rattled so much that the glass almost threatened to shatter. The silence was too long for the family, almost making it feel like they were being attacked. It felt like someone had taken a knife and started to slowly and agonisingly cut into each and every one of the people in the room. It was almost too much for Moomin to bare.

“I had been through a situation like this, where a vengeful spirit possessed a living person. In that case however, the vessel was seven year old girl.” Madame Portia finally spoke, sadness lingering in her voice. Everyone listened intently to what she had to say. “A family came to me, saying that they thought that they were being haunted by the spirit of a relative that was aggressive towards the family. They kept finding themselves with scratches and bruises almost daily. They begged me to try to help them, and of course, I agreed. We performed a seance, just like tonight. The girl wasn’t meant to be there but the spirit possessed her while she was sleeping in her bedroom. Just like tonight we had to restrain her until I prepared the ritual to ban the spirit to the other side. However, I was reckless. I didn’t think of the risks, I just wanted to free that poor child. But just as the spirit was leaving the girl’s body, he took her spirit with him. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. The parents begged me to bring their daughter back, but...” the medium stopped, her throat clenching, threatening to strangle her. Tears started to make trail lines in the wrinkles of her face. “Once the Gate closes the spirit on the other side, that’s it. They never return. Her parents blamed me for her death, and I accepted the blame, it was mine to bare. That girl was so young, she had her whole life ahead of her, but it was snuffed out because of an error I made. That was sixty years ago, but I have never forgiven myself, and I never will.” Everyone couldn’t move or speak after the medium told her tale. While they were desperate for the ritual to be performed before, now all they could feel was dread. They had been so focused on the solution of the spirit leaving Snufkin’s body, that they didn’t think of any other consequences that were to happen. To have Snufkin being trapped in his own body was bad enough, but to lose him for good would be too much for the family. Moomin fought back the tears, trying his best to hold it all together.

“So what?!” Little My suddenly shouted. Everyone looked at her in shock. “One girl dies because you made a mistake. Oh boo hoo! That was in the past. Yeah you regret what happened, but this is now! You have said that you’d help us!”

“Please Madame! I just got back together with my son. I am not losing him again.” Joxter begged, kneeling down to be eye level with the medium.

“Please. Snufkin is more than a friend. He’s like my big brother. He’s family.” Moomin joined in, his eyes widen with desperation, stinging with tears. If Madame Portia hadn’t leaned all her weight on her walking stick, she had done so now. The walking stick let out its age, creaking a little, almost threatening to break under the old woman’s weight. The family watched as she had become unbearably silent. It felt like someone had flicked a switch, making Madame Portia devoid of all emotions and unresponsive everything around her. After what felt like an eternity, the small old woman got up from her chair, abandoning her Jasmine tea completely. Everyone watched as she looked her way towards the window and looked out to the Autumn night.

“If we are to do this, I will need some supplies. Moominmamma, I hope you don’t mind if I go through your kitchen, do you? I will need some vital ingredients.” She said, limping carefully into the kitchen, not even bothering to wait for any response from the mother.

“Wake up lazy bones!”

Joxter was suddenly jostled awake. He was a little surprised as he didn’t even realise he dozed off. Under normal circumstances, he would do in voluntarily almost all the time. However, this night was far from normal. Since the very start of the seance, he has been frustrated, scared and stressed out. All of these emotions have been taking their toll on him it seems. He didn’t realise this until Madame Portia started to prepare for the exorcism or spirit banishment spell or whatever it was called. Everyone had moved outside, where, according to Madame Portia, the ritual would be safer to perform. About 5ft from the big, blue house, Madame Portia was seen dragging her walking stick in the ground, making some kind of shape in the dirt. Moominpappa was following her. He held a bucket in his paws, carefully pouring a milky white liquid into the lines that Madame Portia was making. Moominmamma stood out of the way with a few more buckets that were filled with the same concoction that the medium had made. Only Moomin, Little My and Joxter were sitting on the veranda, watching the scene before them. Snufkin remained to be restrained in the drawing room, with the front door shut.

“Sorry.” Joxter muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He was sitting on the banister with his back to the post to keep his balance on it. Moomin was sitting at the table and Little My was standing on the banister next to the tired father.

“Eh, whatever. This night’s been tough on all of us.” Little My shrugged not even bothering to complain about Joxter’s old habits.

“You can go to sleep if you want.” Joxter offered.

“No way I’m sleeping until we get Snufkin back.” Little My huffed, crossing her arms. Moomin glanced up at the two. He noticed whole all night they hadn’t been at each other’s throats at all. He didn’t know if it was because of Snufkin being a prisoner in his own mind and his family members becoming determined to save him or something else. He knew that it was more due to Snufkin being in this much danger.

“Wow! For once, you two aren’t fighting. Snufkin will be very happy to hear about this.” Moomin said with a slight grin. The small girl and the father looked at him.

“What do you mean?” Joxter asked, tilting his head like a curious cat.

“All that Snufkin wanted was for you two to stop fighting and to get along. He knew that deep down you both had something in common. And it looks like, I’ve found out what that is.” Moomin explained, his friend widening a little, feeling a little smug.

“Oh yeah! And what’s that?” Little My shouted, hands on her hips. Joxter stayed silent and waited for Moomin to continue his explanation.

“Snufkin. You both want to be there for him, as a family should be towards one another. Especially with what’s been going on tonight. In fact, since he was possessed, you two hadn’t so much as have a shouting match between you.” Moomin smiled. The two looked at each other as he said this. He was right, and they knew that. Moomin kept smiling at the two, knowing that if Snufkin was here, he would be so proud at how far his family had come this night. He was snapped out of it when he heard his mother calling for him. He noticed that she was holding a bucket, whilst gesturing to another next to her, signalling him to come over to help out for the time being. Without waiting for a split second, he ran off of the veranda to help with his mother.

Joxter watched the boy go for a second, before he looked down at Little My. She was now sitting on the banister, swinging her legs to and fro in the air. She was focused on the flower bed that was below her, trying to make it seem like it was more interesting then what was going on. She had a conflicted look on her face and Joxter could understand why. For a very long time, she believed that her father never cared for her or her family. To suddenly hear what had truly happened to him must have shaken her badly.

“Listen, Little My, about your father. I-“ Joxter tried to say. He didn’t want to feel like he was saying any excuses as to why he had kept this dark family secret for so long, but in a way, he felt like it still weighed heavily on his shoulders after he had told the family everything.

“Save it. You don’t need to apologise. I know the truth now. I just wish that I wasn’t lied to about it.” The small girl interrupted, looking up over at what the Moomins and the medium were doing.

“Well, I’m apologising anyway. It was wrong and I knew it. If there was one thing I could do over, it would be to tell you what had happened.” Joxter said sternly.

“I get it. But I’m glad you’ve told me now. If you really are that sorry, stop feeling sorry for yourself and help get my brother back.” Little My sighed a little, looking right up at the man next to her.

“Deal.” Joxter winked. Both girl and father watched the scene beyond the preparation. The night continued its course, not caring of what had happened in the house and what was going on now. Whether it was later on in the evening, or the presence of the spirit, the night had even gotten even colder. Every breath that was let out became nothing more than mist that faded into the night. The moon was larger and was at its highest point in the sky, bathing the valley in a ghostly (A/N no pun intended) white glow. Foxes prowled the night, stalking their potential prey and owls sat content upon their perches in the trees. Crickets played their endless medley of tunes. The breeze that swept through the valley was bitter and frozen, blanketing the valley, warning it that winter was approaching even faster now. It was an almost dramatic change from what the summer was. The long days had been traded for longer nights and the warm temperature had become cold.

“Did my father love me? Love my mother and my siblings?” Little My suddenly asked, looking absentmindedly up at the stars.

“Well, he wasn’t going to give up on your family without a fight. So, yes, I believe he did. And listen, I bet, right now as of this moment, he’s standing right next to you, cheering you on.” Joxter smiled, warming Little My right up. “I think he’s very proud of you.” Little My turned to look over her shoulder, as if she was looking right up at the spirit of her father. Joxter had no doubt that the girl’s father was right where she was looking, giving her all that he can.

“Thank you, Joxter. I mean it.” The girl smiled, looking up at Joxter. Joxter widened his smile a little before it fell. He wondered back to what Moomin had said a few minutes ago about Snufkin. The vagabond would be happy to see that his family had finally stopped their conflict just to help him. To Joxter, Snufkin was what was trying to hold the family together, despite his father and half sister fighting on a regular basis. He didn’t give up on them. That’s what, in a way, made it all the more sad as Snufkin wasn’t here to see his family agreeing with each other and it added to the determination that he had to end this 14 year old nightmare once and for all. All of these efforts have gone too far for both of these families to give up now.

“Joxter!” Moominpappa called out as he ran to the veranda. Joxter jumped down from the banister, Little My watching both fathers with every move they had made. “Madame Portia is almost ready. She said we need to start bringing Snufkin outside and into the circle now!”

“Right.” Joxter nodded. He looked over at the small girl. “Go over to the others and wait for us. We’ll be over soon.” Little My nodded. As the men entered the house, she jumped down and ran towards the shape that was made into the ground. It was a large circle that was large enough to fit at least 10 people inside it. A star was etched inside it. The shape was seen as clear as day by the white potion, smelling faintly of a mixture of spices and a hint of Moominpappa and Joxter’s tobacco. The liquid faintly reflected the light of the moon, making it gleam a little. Madame Portia sat on the ground, cross legged. Her skirt pooled around her, making her sit in an almost perfect circle. Like before, she had her hands clasped together, muttering what sounded like a spell. The wind that breathed past the group became more bitter than it had been before, causing the family to shiver.

Moomin’s ears pricked up at the sound of movement behind him. He looked to see the fathers dragging Snufkin towards the circle. The traveller, though he was still bound, was out of the chair and was digging his feet into the ground, as if the spirit that possessed him knew what was happening. He was still blindfolded and gagged and continued to let out these awful animalistic growls, throwing his upper body this way and that to get away from the men that were holding him. Grass was uprooted from under his feet as some of the dirt was kicked into the air. His struggling had increased even more. Both fathers roughly yanked, hoping that the boy wouldn’t be hurt too badly from their handling of him. Madame Portia suddenly threw her hands out to the circle, scattering small bones, beads and tiny crystals into it. She looked up at the fathers and nodded, not saying a word. Joxter grasped Snufkin tightly by the shoulders, holding him as still as possible. Moominpappa reached for the knot starting to slowly loosen it. Both fathers looked at each other for a brief second. They then nodded and worked together in a split second. Just as Moominpappa loosened the knot completely, Joxter shoved his son into the circle, causing the boy to fall in the centre. Snufkin immediately untangled himself from the rope and ripped off the scarfs that took his sight and his ability to speak. He turned to glare at the family, but his ruby red eyes widened as the medium opened her eyes and they were completely pearl white. He looked around and instantly knew why he was thrown into the circle. He got to his feet and tried to rush at the family. Just as he stepped forward a wall of white light emerged from where the circle was drawn. Snufkin bounced right off of it, proving how much strength he had put into his strides. Madame Portia continued to mutter her spell, a breeze that only came from the inside of the circle was blowing all around the possessed boy.

“No! No! I refuse to leave! I-NNNNNNOOOOOO!” Snufkin yelled before he started to scream, seemingly sounding like he was in pain. He clutched his head as he fell to his knees. He held his head so tight, that it looked like he was ready to rip his own hair out of his scalp. It took all of Joxter’s willpower to not try to comfort him, for he knew the risks if he tried to step inside the circle.

“Get-get-GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Snufkin screamed at the top of his lungs, his eyes wide. Everyone felt a little relief as they finally saw the familiar chocolate brown eyes that Snufkin had, with a small trickle of a tear threatening to trail down his face. Without warning he went silent before he fell forwards, unconscious. The spirit was banished from his body. Finally, everyone could see what he looked like. It was definitely in the form of a boy that looked to be around Snufkin’s age. He had long, grizzly bear brown hair that was tied back in a ponytail. His skin was as white as a sheet and his eyes remained to be blood red. His clothes looked brand new, but they were roughed up and torn in most places. They also looked damp, evident to the fact that the boy had fallen into the sea after he fell off the cliff when he died. The boy had a hard angered face that was battered on the left side along with his left arms and shoulder, showing that he must have hit his side at some point during his plummet to the sea.

“No! NO! IF I’M LEAVING, I AM TAKING THIS MUTT WITH ME!” The spirit yelled. Then, the unthinkable happened. The spirit reached down and grabbed something at the back of Snufkin’s neck. Moomin watched in utter horror as the sprit yanked upwards, dragging Snufkin’s own spirit out of his body.

Use these links to catch up with the story if you don’t know what’s going on:

Chapter 1: HERE

Chapter 2: HERE

Chapter 3: HERE

Chapter 4: HERE

Chapter 5: HERE

Chapter 6: HERE

Chapter 8: HERE

#possession #moomin #snufkin #moominmamma #moominpappa #little my #joxter #madame portia #oc #well #this is going from bad to worse very quickly