#toddler deceit

[solarisgod]

Micah can generally tell when one tries to lie to or manipulate xem, have selfish intentions with xem, etcetera. It's not meant to be like a "hahah yeah, my character is so smart and powerful than yours", but, it's simply realistic based on the experiences that they've gone through with them having many toxic friendship across xyr life, got into nine relationships which most were abusive, had a lot of horrible foster parents, and the Starwake System as a whole have faced all forms of abuse across their time. In addition, Micah was a private detective when xe was in xyr mid to late twenties, and xyr position as a Saint continues to place xem in positions where xe interacts with dangerous people, so xe had a lot of experiences and knowledge in interacting with dishonest and manipulative individuals. Phobos and especially Philos are great liars and manipulators that they had to be so the system can manage or retreat potentially dangerous situations successfully, so Micah learnt a lot of things from them as well.

A lot of people are easy to underestimate Micah and view them as naive and foolish, taking xyr love and hope and kindness as xyr ultimate weaknesses, but xe is so much more analytic and observant and wise than one can ever think of them to be. There are infinite aspects in how one present themself and perform to others that Micah could take notes of and would connect with xyr personal experiences and knowledges: Speeches, body languages, demeanors, gestures, expressions; how long one have known another, how much one knows another, where they met and why they're still in touch and how they maintain contact; so forth. Micah is so painfully aware and in tune with everyone and everything and everywhere xe's in contact with.

The scariest thing about this whole information, Micah is willing to let xemself be lied to and manipulated with so xe can see how long the other party would attempt to take xem as their advantage while gathering more evidences against them. As well as part of Micah hopes the other will eventually see a fault in what they're doing and be better. Micah isn't the kind to be outspoken and confrontational when managing these sorts of cases, xe's quiet and passive to keep that oblivious nature, but when there is a case when the other party is clearly attempting to harm xem physically or mentally / emotionally, then that's usually when Micah will confront them or simply leave them, depending on who the individual is and what they've been doing to xem.

Still, Micah remains kind to the end because xe just doesn't like to be disrespectful and aggressive, it's draining and even terrifying to xemself ( xe's more scared for them than of them or xemself ), even if the other doesn't deserve xyr kindness, but regardless, Micah will be beyond disappointed if the other continues to try to use xem. Not sad or angry. Just disappointed, which is worst given how much xe xemself tries to be most patient and understanding with another, only for this sort of treatment to continue anyway.

#ASK TO TAG CW #/// #// #/ #𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ STUDY . › #𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ MICAH . › #[ ngl this is just as much of a psa as it's a study khsdbhsdbgk ] #[ and quite frankly? I am quite selective when it comes to Micah interacting with muses who are prominently known to be ] #[ deceitful and manipulative 'cause - really - the Starwake System has been through so much since even as a toddler ] #[ that I don't like the idea of them being more used / tricked on than they are in their original canon vs. roleplay version ] #[ it doesn't matter how easy one may think their character can hide from the system ; they will find out one way or another at some point ] #[ and to be honest? they should! ] #[ and again it's not meant to be like godmodding or character showing off contest or whatever ] #[ but it's just realistic with what they learnt and experienced ] #[ that would make them be more aware and in tune with who and what they're interacting with ]

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 3

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 4.9k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude both step onto the plane not knowing what awaits them. Descriptions of injury, blood, death and a plane crash.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 2

Present Day...

Overhead storage on a plane is a pointless endeavour. 

They say your bag has to be a certain height and width, and you go through that whole rule abiding rigmarole of sticking to a tiny bag - despite not being able to fucking pack anything of use actually in it - and the sucker still doesn’t fit in there just to spite you. 

Jude shoves it with her fist, practically punching the bag in whilst having a mild breakdown in the process until she’s composed herself and slumps into the window seat and buckles in, tasting wisps of her hair in her mouth. 

She’s seated at the very back of the plane; the last row that backs onto the emergency exit in coach, and will give off the subtle feculent stench of the toilets right behind her throughout the flight.

The faint cries of a grumpy toddler down the front somewhere can already be heard droning, even over the hum of the engine as the plane is loaded up with bleating passengers ready for the eighteen hour long flight. 

It was an easy decision to make; an unconscious autopilot. Jude had some savings and decided to quit life for a time out and take a break from the aftermath of Nate's continuous infidelity. The destination was purely left to the spin of her old, antique globe on her desk, having racked up nearly forty-nine countries already in her career, and wherever her finger landed, that’s where she’d go.

It landed on Madagascar and that was it, decision made. Ideal opportunity for some relaxation, to forget that shit-stain Nate, and maybe take some photographs whilst she was at it. Or maybe she would just mellow out on a hammock on the beach for two weeks, forgetting the world and plying herself with strong drinks until she forgot her own name. She'd carefully packed minimal camera gear into her carry on regardless - old habits die hard and her camera was like a limb, essential.

She checks her phone one last time before switching it into flight mode. The constant barrage of calls from Nate has died off somewhat since her stark warning in the café, but he’s still haranguing her by text message, or Whatsapp, or via any other social media platform he can try and reach her on to just ‘talk to me’ or ‘give me another chance, please babe.’

But holding strong only works if she is strong. And that's questionable right about now.

The temptation to listen to him to explain his deceitfulness all over again has been there swilling around the sides of her bandaged heart and rational thinking, and rather than risk the fallout of letting the scumbag wheedle his way back in with his Machiavellian falsehoods - like he usually does knowing Jude's backbone is already at breaking point - it’s best to scarper and seek some clarity in a foreign sunny land and have some much needed alone time to regroup and plan the next course of her life, without Nate. 

Plan B always sucks, but you definitely have to have one, right? 

She scrolls through her Instagram feed; her thumb hovering over Nate’s profile, hesitating and then clicking on the unfollow button, followed by the block button. If there had been a button to Taser in the balls, she’d have clicked on that one too.

Jude's seat is moderately comfortable, with just enough legroom for her to sit cramped up without developing DVT. She glances around and observes fellow passengers stowing their carry-on luggage in the overhead compartments, some enduring the same frustrating battles as she did, and settling into their seats.

The air inside the cabin carries a distinct blend of aeroplane air - a mix of recycled ventilation and a hint of the disinfectant used to clean the aircraft. The subtle scent of lemons fills her nose.

She hears the gentle murmur of the flight attendants as they go through their pre-flight routine, checking the cabin, demonstrating safety procedures, and preparing for take-off. The occasional announcements over the intercom remind passengers to fasten their seatbelts, stow their tray tables, and turn off electronic devices.

The empty seat beside Jude is soon filled with a middle-aged woman embracing a plethora of gossip magazines to keep her entertained during the flight, to which she's thankful for; polite, strained conversation with a stranger that has absolutely nothing in common with you, and an unhealthy penchant for dried cheese crackers, is never an entertaining feat at thirty-odd thousand feet.

Jude simply puts in her ear buds and sets her phone’s Spotify playlist to uber loud, waiting for the classic rock tunes to fill her ears and block out anything else, and sits back in the seat shutting her eyes and grinding on her teeth. 

Further down the plane in business class, Frankie drops his worn backpack at his feet whilst he fishes out the contents of his jeans pockets, glancing down at the oversized seat he’s to be glued into for the next eighteen hours or so. 

Plenty of legroom is waiting for him and it’s a surprise, and a relief, that he won’t be cramped up in economy. Dustin had done him a real solid. 

He zips up his pack after depositing his iPhone - which flashes up a number of unchecked voice messages from Eddie - his wallet and all manner of random things guys feel the need to carry in their denim pockets, such as crumpled bar receipts from months ago; a night out with Benny and Will and a few games of darts, and ultimately the last time he had seen Will.

Frankie’s mind casts back to them talking about how things were different now that Tom was no longer around to hold them all together. How there were less of them now to have bar nights with now that Santi was shacked up comfortably in Australia with his lady and her millions, and how Frankie had also inadvertently exchanged more of those nights out with the Miller brothers for nights alone in his Pickup with bags of powder as his only company.

As Will scratched away at the layers, trying to push his way in, conversations had turned sour about how different Frankie had seemed as his addiction metastasized; Will regarded him with a concerned look in his frosty blue eyes. 

I’m worried about you, Fish. This ain’t like you. 

It’s just a rough patch. I’ll get through it. I’m fine. 

You’re not fine.

I’m handling it. It’s none of your business- 

It is my business. I care about you. We all do. Does Carla know what's going on?

I'm dealing with stuff. It's my problem.

It stops being just your problem when it starts affecting everyone around you. We care about you, Fish. I care about you. But I can't stand by and watch you self-destruct like this.

Then fuckin' don’t! Frankie had simply snapped at him.

It followed a heated argument, a threat of spilling over into the physical when Benny warned Frankie to leave, and held his brother back as Frankie cussed him out for interfering. He usually wouldn't talk to a friend like that, the way he so belittles himself at times, and he knows that Will meant well, somewhere in the recesses of his befuddled mind.

But that’s the cost of addiction, in the end you end up with nothing and no-one. 

In the aftermath of Will's expression of concern, an uncomfortable gap settled between them. It was a silence charged with the weight of unspoken truths, an acknowledgment of the growing distance that addiction was creating between Frankie and his friends. And Frankie left the bar that night to retreat into the safe confines of his own slow destruction.

In the depths of Frankie's life, an insidious force had taken root, spreading its tendrils like an unseen cancer. Addiction, the silent invader, had established its presence in the once quiet corners of his existence. It had started subtly, unnoticed - a small, hidden malignancy that grew and thrived beneath the surface.

The root of origin unknown, but the talking therapy he was forced to endure had convinced him that things had all finally gone to shit when Tom had died on that damned mission. The cherry on top of a mountainous cake of years and years of unresolved trauma carried over from his time in Delta Force.

Leaving behind the regimented world of Special Operations felt like stepping into an uncharted wilderness, once a bastion of discipline, had unfolded as a chapter of his life marked by growing solitude and abhorrent self-discovery. The decision to leave the elite forces wasn't an easy one, but it was one they all had embarked on together. Shit just got too dark. 

The camaraderie that had defined his military experience became a distant echo, replaced by the isolating silence of civilian life. The transition was akin to leaving the tight confines of his cockpit and soaring into the open sky, uncertain of the turbulence that awaited.

As Frankie navigated the challenging terrain of civilian life after leaving Special Ops, his reliance on the Veterans Affairs system for support became a crucial aspect of his journey. However, what he encountered was a bureaucratic landscape that often left him feeling more stranded than supported.

The VA proved to be nothing but a labyrinth of paperwork, long wait times, and un-clippable red tape. Despite his sincere efforts to seek help, Frankie found himself grappling with a system that seemed ill-equipped to address the complexities of his post-military challenges.

He couldn't help but lean into the bitterness at how easy Will and Benny seemed to have found the transition. On the outside, their lives seemed far more rosy compared to his. They had each other to lean on, after all.

The system that was supposed to provide a safety net for veterans transitioning back to civvy life became a stumbling block, adding an extra layer of complexity to Frankie's journey. In facing the inadequacies of the VA, Frankie discovered an unexpected coping mechanism of his own which seemed to work far better - cocaine. 

But it was one that spiralled out of control when he came back from Santi’s stupid mission that left him even more lost. In something he once dabbled in for a fun high now and again, albeit causing him to lose his license when he was caught smuggling it in for some extra bucks, soon became a daily habit that chipped away more pieces of him.

The bond that Frankie had sorely missed since leaving Special Ops seemed to rekindle in his connection with his sponsor Eddie for a while. Their alliance wasn't forged in the crucible of combat but in the shared struggles of recovery. The Special Ops ethos of "leave no-one behind" found new meaning in the context of addiction, and Eddie became the embodiment of that commitment.

But as Frankie delved deeper into the challenging journey of recovery, a subtle shift occurred in his relationship with Eddie. The once unwavering connection began to fray as Frankie found himself instinctively starting to avoid the very person who had been a crucial anchor in his battle.

The avoidance didn't happen overnight. It began with subtle excuses - a missed call here, an unattended meeting there. An extra shift in the workshop that soon piled on top of his already weakened shoulders. Frankie soon learned that if he kept busy, kept tinkering, kept his mind on something else other than the constant yammering thoughts about coke, then he wouldn't be tempted to give in.

Thus finding his own solution to his addiction, which was akin to slapping on a flimsy plaster over a deep gunshot wound - it would only be a matter of time before it fell off. 

I care about you. But I can't stand by and watch you self-destruct like this...

Will's words linger in Frankie's memory like an indelible mark besmirching all the memories that he'd filed away as once good. He shakes his head despondently as he recalls the concern that seems to have faded into ignorance now.

It feels like a long time since Frankie's heard Will’s voice or seen his face. He bites down on the inside of his cheek.

He finds loose change, a shit ton of lint, and his sobriety coin in his pocket too. A small but potent talisman, speaking volumes about the milestones he's conquered on his journey toward recovery, even if it feels like a lead weight in his pocket most of the time.

It nestles comfortably in the palm of his hand, a tangible reminder of the strength he’s summoned to break free from the chains of addiction, even if he doesn't know where that strength has come from. Frankie knows without a shadow of a doubt that he isn't strong. Never has been.

The coin, worn smooth by the constant touch of Frankie's fingers, bears the tactile evidence of countless reflections and countless moments of considering just throwing the towel in. It doesn't seem worth it in the quiet masochistic tendrils of his thoughts.

He squeezes it in his palm tightly, feeling the indents of it bore into his skin. Six months and what does he have to show for it? 

He runs his hand over the sparse layer of fluffy stubble covering his tired face, a physical manifestation of the days when self-care took a backseat to the relentless pursuit of an unyielding high, and he's just let it grow out now.

His jaw sets firm before shoving the coin back down into the trenches of his pockets and placing his bag in the spacious compartment above his head. 

Frankie sits back in his seat buckling up, and a peppy stewardess, doused in way too much perfume that makes the insides of his nostrils sting and itch as he inhales, approaches him and enquires about what he would like to drink immediately after take-off.

He orders a beer and a bottle of water and sits back staring down the aisle from his single, plush seat, people watching as the other passenger’s faff around with their laptops and briefcases as they fill up the cabin, which makes Frankie feel even more like he doesn’t belong, in his scuffed jeans and faded salmon shirt and worn in cap. 

As the plane begins to taxi, he looks out the window, watching the terminal and other aircraft pass by. The distant sound of luggage being loaded onto the conveyor belts and the low hum of the engines create a sense of morbid anticipation; a feeling that causes his fingers to shake as he balls them into a fist and takes a calming breath. 

The cabin lights dim slightly as the plane approaches the runway, and Frankie settles in, ready for the long, arduous journey ahead.

Hours later into the flight, Jude stirs in her seat with the heavy feeling swelling in her bladder again, and excuses herself to her fellow passenger, who is crunching loudly on the unbuttered crackers, so she can get up to pee.

Well aware that this is the fourth such instance and that she’s probably annoying the fuck out of the woman, but when you gotta go, you gotta go. 

The plane judders slightly as she makes her way towards the tiny cubicle that smells of stagnant piss. The mirrored panel above the sink reflects a condensed version of Jude’s image. She catches a glimpse of herself - perhaps a bit dishevelled from the hustle of the day's travels thus far - but something else lingers in her worn features. 

Her reflection is sleepy in the small mirror and the heat of her cheeks paramount as she’s been overheating in her sweater whilst snoozing. She removes it, leaving her in a flimsy t-shirt, and sits down on the toilet staring at her battered Chuck Taylors and thinking idly that it’s probably time for a new pair soon.

Washing up, she glances at her reflection again, revealing the innate vulnerability she’s been trying to hide that hits her. It’s been a minute, since the break-up, that she really stopped to take herself in.

Pronounced tears well up in her eyes. She leans against the cold, metal interior of the cubicle, her breath shaky and uneven. The subtle vibrations from the plane match the tremors of her own emotional upheaval as it pours out of her, seemingly from nowhere.

Vile images of her and Nate in happier times plague her thoughts like sharpshooters as it all crumbles away. It was all bullshit wrapped up in pretty crepe paper bows. 

The metallic surfaces seem to close in around her, mirroring the claustrophobic ache shoved in her chest where a heart once beat. Tears stream down her face, leaving streaks of mascara like war paint on her cheeks. The mirror, once a reflection of ordinary moments, now bears witness to the shattered remnants of her composure.

Jude’s hands tremble as she clutches at the sink, knuckles turning white with the force of her grip to stop her from collapsing onto the floor and screaming unrestrained like the toddler down the front of the cabin. 

Her body convulses with the force of her sobs as she throws her arm over her mouth to muffle them, fingers clenching into fists, nails biting into the palms of her hand. It's a gut-wrenching, primal expression of heartache, the kind that leaves no room for pretence or restraint.

The slow, tumultuous purging of that asswipe out of her blood. Or at least the start of it anyway. It pulses through her veins like poison. Disbelief, heartbreak, and the indignant rage that comes with the sting of betrayal flood through her limbs; a future paradise shattered into a million fragments as she envisions punching the mirror in - she can’t bear looking at her face anymore. 

The restroom seems to close in around her, mirroring the suffocation she felt when confronted with the undeniable truth fucking into another woman in their bed. A truth she had always known, but perhaps ignorance really was bliss for a while. 

And where has that got you?

With shaky determination, she wipes away the evidence of her breakdown, acutely aware that the scars of betrayal will linger long after the tears have dried, a harsh velocity of time she’ll have to endure and navigate through. 

Once back in her seat, her sweater stuffed in the overhead with her crushed bag, Jude glances out the window at the billowy dark gray clouds that are passing underneath the plane mirroring her own self-contempt. 

She sees lightning flashes pulse like a camera now and again and rolls her eyes with a deep lacerating sigh. The plane rumbles once more.

It better be fucking hot when we land...

She asks for a bottle of still water from the passing flight attendant to refresh her cottonmouth, but they return with sparkling instead. Before she can ask for another, the attendant disappears off, hurrying down the aisle out of sight, and she’s left to make do with a tight frown. 

Sparkling water tastes like licking TV static; such a pointless endeavour, but Jude drinks it anyway, the woman sitting next to her eyeing her oddly as she makes disgusted noises whilst swallowing it down.

Frankie sips at his third beer quietly as he watches a lame comedy film, that doesn’t even make him snicker once, on the screen to the right of his seat; his headphones plugged into it so only he can hear the sound.

He watches without any real enthusiasm, trying to pass the inevitable boredom that accompanies most of the commercial flights he’s endured in his life. 

He’s still feeling jangled and all manner of anxiousness swills around him about being somewhere hot and isolated sooner rather than later, so he can throw himself into some work with helicopters - which admittedly has been something he’s looked forward to since Dustin mentioned it - and to forget his troubles and woes for a short time. A rest and recharge of those Morales batteries that have been running on empty for a long time. 

His mind does that ominous thing of wandering into territories it shouldn't just to mess with him, and he realises he hasn’t heard from Carla at all since she’d left. He wonders if she had indeed been back to his apartment and cleared it of all her belongings; erasing herself from his life as though she was never there to begin with. 

He’d arranged with Benny to be there, albeit through short, clipped texts, to ensure she didn’t cut up his clothes or destroy his shit like some warped revenge fantasy that women harbour when they feel they’re slighted.

It seems weird to think of her now as merely an ex too. At one point Carla was his better half, he’s sure of it. The half of him that propped him up. Frankie engages in unspoken conversations with the ghosts of his past love. Imaginary dialogues played out in the confines of his mind, expressions of sentiments left unsaid.

And it still seems odd to put it together and work out where things had gone so drastically wrong between them to the point they had ended up so far off course.

But he knows why. Knows it’s him. It's all his fault. All she did was have the audacity to love and care for him, and that makes it all the worse somehow. 

He finishes his beer a little later, feeling slightly gassy as the bubbles rumble under his sternum, and it's soon cleared away by the pretty steward who offers him another, but he declines reaching for the bottle of water instead and holding in a fizzy belch inside his cheeks until she leaves. 

The plane jolts again; this time a little heavier and the steward grips the back of the seat in front of him to stay upright. The smile on her face reassures him it’s just normal turbulence and she then continues on her way with his empty beer bottle back down the aisle; his eyes drop to her ass absentmindedly, tightly bound in her skirt.

Frankie's just swallowed another mouthful of water when the plane judders harshly again and this time his stomach goes with it completely. The seat belt sign flashes on and he looks up at it and its faint yellowing light seems like it’s burning slowly into his retinas.

While Frankie maintains an outward appearance of relaxation, a mild concern lingers in the background. The rhythmic bumps of turbulence become a reminder of the unpredictable nature of the skies; a reality he’s intimately acquainted with from his days in the cockpit himself.

But his eyes, scanning the cabin for the reactions of fellow passengers, reflect a nuanced awareness of the situation. The subtle tightening of his grip on the armrest betrays the reflex of a seasoned aviator attuned to the gradations of flight, even when occupying a passenger's seat.

The plane shakes harshly again and the heavy, grating sound cuts through all rational thinking.

It takes him a moment to register the sounds of screaming, and the sensation that the plane is now descending - and descending real fast. 

Frankie looks down the aisle and sees the pretty steward with the ass on the floor in a heap before he’s blinded by the oxygen mask falling into his face. 

The seat belt sign flashes on and although Jude’s already buckled in tight, the passenger beside her stands up and heads off towards the toilet, she can only assume. There’s always one, isn’t there?

Sighing, she rests her head back against the headrest and shuts her eyes, letting the loud guitar riffs fill her ears. 

The unexpected jolting and commotion as though the plane is dipping forwards a mere few seconds later causes Jude to yank her ear buds out of her ears, one of them rolling out of her grip onto the floor, to be met with the sounds of screaming and hysteria. 

The heavy resonances of the turbines and engines whirring seem to shriek behind her at a deafening pitch, and the smell of aviation fuel and burning wafts into her nose sharply.

Jude pushes against the seat in front of her with both hands for support as the plane takes a nose-dive forward on a dangerous slant; a wayward drinks trolley shifts past her sight down the aisle, clattering and making a hell of a racket as it goes. 

The oxygen mask flaps in front of Jude’s face and she’s not sure how long it’s been there. She scrambles for it, panicking and fastening the elastic around the back of her head. Her fellow cracker addict is still nowhere to be seen. 

Jude glances quickly out the tiny window again and the sight of the ocean coming up fast is the last thing she sees before it all goes black. 

When a plane hits a body of water, it invariably breaks apart.

The fuselage splits, the wings crack, practically disintegrating for all intents and purposes, and the tail often breaks off completely. Essentially, it shatters fully on impact and often the fuel tanks will explode. 

When a plane hits water, an incompressible fluid, the water hits back at it and causes the aircraft to decelerate. That's all fine and dandy for the plane, but your body is still "flying" at the same speed as the plane was before it hit water, and well... objects inside the fuselage becoming embroiled in a kinetic tornado, are about to make you decelerate too, in a very violent way.

Let’s do the maths, shall we? The equation F=maF=ma simply means that for constant mass, FF is proportional to aa, and so a bigger aa also means a bigger FF. A bigger FF doesn't sound too good, does it?

Did you get that? No, me neither. Basically, you’re up shit creek without a paddle. 

Most passengers on the plane will die from blunt head trauma. If they’re lucky it will be quick. A quick bop and you’re gone bye-bye so to speak. Some will be fortunate enough to pass out before their inevitable death through sheer terror alone - lucky bastards. 

If you haven’t died before or after impact, your chances of survival then become bleaker as time wears on. Head trauma is the most common fatal blunt injury in a plane crash, followed by injuries to the chest and the abdomen.

Thirty-six per cent of head injuries, and twenty-seven per cent of chest injuries will have associated cervical and thoracic spine fractures, respectively. A slow, painful death would await you as you suffer from internal bleeding. And that’s before you drown. 

Remember, you’ve just crashed into the ocean, bub. 

It’s all very doom and gloom isn’t it? But Frankie’s flight is currently in pieces, some aflame, and he’s swimming against the current, equally difficult because the impact has created a swirling whirlpool that keeps trying to pull him under within the vicinity of the main body of the plane.

His long arms are striding away and he splutters and coughs as he’s pulled under constantly despite being an adept swimmer. 

His skin is burning around his neck; he can see a slick, shimmering gloop mixing in the water’s surface all around him and the stench of aviation fuel and barbecued skin fills his nostrils. 

He turns back to see the water literally on fire, and is convinced he can hear some distant screams for help, before he dives under and swims away from the fires before he burns up with them. 

His ears are ringing, his sight is blinded continually by water splashing over his face whenever he surfaces for air, and as he swims away to a safe distance, that’s when the shock bites into his body and begins the slow onslaught of trying to drown him. 

The freezing stab of the water is what rouses Jude awake and she’s still fastened in her seat; the water pooling at her ankles, soaking into her battered Converse and rising.

She’s unaware at first that blood is blinding her right eye, as she rips off the oxygen mask and claws at her seat belt to unbuckle it frantically. 

Oh God! Oh God! Oh Shit!

Jude glances across the aisle and half of the cabin is missing; she gasps out as she can see a couple of the passengers slumped over in their seats, but the rest of them are gone.

She can no longer hear the screaming toddler piercing her ears.

The water is rising fast and is covering her thighs now. She stands up on jellified legs and rushes to the passenger opposite and tries shaking him awake, but he’s unresponsive. 

She tries another, but it’s fruitless. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows they’re already gone, but it takes her body a moment to catch up. She wipes at her face and the slick, ruby red that coats her palm panics her further as she observes her trembling hand that now looks like she’s wearing a scarlet coloured latex glove. 

But there’s no time to dwell on the root of that blood loss now; the water is already up to her hips.

She wades towards the side of the fuselage in big, quick strides, climbing over seats with limp bodies strapped into them, and takes a deep breath before she jumps into the water on the other side of the gaping tear in the cabin. 

Jude cries out as she feels something sharp rip at the back of her calf as she plops ungracefully into the water and begins to swim away, grunting and gasping with sheer terror. 

Swim! Swim, come on!

She can smell burning and turns back momentarily to see flames on the water in the distance making the horizon wobbly and opaque through the smoke. She tries to call out for help, but she’s certain no-one is alive to hear her; her mouth keeps filling with rancid sea water as she splashes about frantically.

Jude bobs around on the ocean’s surface, her arms and legs kicking and keeping her afloat and calling out again for help. She shouts as loudly as she can, but is met with no response. 

Whimpering, she latches onto a nearby piece of scorched debris and clings onto it for dear life. She wipes her face again and more blood rinses off in her hand. She feels all around her head and the searing pain makes itself known at the top side of her right temple in her hair line, just above her ear. 

Shit!

Bewildered and panicking further in the process, Jude tries to scan the horizon behind her to see if there is anything, anyone; a hint of land perhaps that she can swim towards.

The thought of barely floating here on the ocean’s surface holding onto a small piece of rubble to keep her suspended births all sorts of nightmarish outcomes that her brain processes in a quick blur; the most notable being a shiver of sharks circling her below because they can smell her blood from miles away.

Her body is buffeted by the currents, causing her to grip onto the makeshift float desperately until she can't feel her fingers anymore, but the numbness doesn’t register.

Her heart races, pounding against her chest. In the midst of the chaos, a primal instinct for survival kicks in. She scans the vast ocean, searching for signs of rescue, grappling with the overwhelming uncertainty of her situation.

The taste of salt on her lips, the sting of the wind against her face, and the weight of her own mortality converge in a disorienting mix of sensations that render her still, frozen in her own paralysis of fear.

There’s nothing as far as the eye can see; absolutely nothing at all except for the burning plane wreckage that makes Jude’s wide eyes glow in terror.

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

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[nagy-bari]

musings on Mrs. Tims - aka Chilchuck's wife

she left Chilchuck after 12 years of being married they brought up the girls together, they were moving for 11 years of their marriage she left after meeting the adventurers Chilchuck was currently working with. this we know.

now the speculations and round up info:

as they grew up together as friends they probably talked about their dreams and hopes.

they were adventurous enough to move out of their home village with 2 toddlers and a baby on the way

they did not settle down for the next 10 years, living a traveling life all the while Chilchuck probably did some adventure on the side. but as professional Chilchuck is now there bound to be some early mistakes. still right until he started up the guild for half-foots his job did not cause too much problem.

from how their daughters are Mrs. Tims does not seem the extreme adventurous type - she probably never went into dungeons as dangerous as Chilchuck, but as we learned from Marcille's memories, natural dungeons can be found all over the place, she might have went to safer waters.

Chil says May is the one most like him - taking up the profession and keeping a level head at all times, while Fuller is the social connection of their family. she's housing her mother at the time, probably keeps tabs on Patty as well and sends gifts and letter to Chilchuck. visually she's the least similar to her father, but she has his eyes (round and youthful, with a bit of a mischief there)

as sharp tongued and bitter Chilchuck can be, he knows how to have fun, he's just way too serous about what is important (making sure he does his part well because the others do depend on him) he probably took his family serous as well (hence the remaining anger at not understanding his wife) because 4 of them depended on him for a while.

even so only the eldest has the usual "eldest sibling responsibility" heaviness at first glance the other two turned out to be bubbly, cheerful little ladies.

is it proof of the parents being easy-going traveling between towns and islands, staying here and there while a job lasted, having fun all the same because they were together?

i've seen some speculation that the wife was the more serious of the two, while Chilchuck was the easy going, easy to talk with guy. for me their dynamic is more on the 'we were so similar for so long, that to see other sides of them with how they act around others reminded me that i might not know who they really are - who am i really...'

if Chilchuck is around the midlife crisis age, maybe the wife is as well. Maybe seeing her husband start up a guild for other half-foots, taking responsibility for them and expanding his serious care for strangers made her feel just a bit left behind. the guild was for adventurers, dungeneers, something she wasn't really a part of - maybe it never interested her, maybe it was always reinforced that since it's always the two of them, they divide the tasks, and the dungeons are just not her world. maybe she wanted to join but realized she'll never be as good with the tools and traps as Chilchuck, and didn't wanted to add on another stress.

if we go with the speculations that she is the kid on the right side of this picture with the little dragon plushie we get an even (bitter)sweeter arc for their life: two little half-foots growing up closely together, always playing together, one dreaming of going on adventures (wife) and the other wanting to go with them no matter where (Chilchuck) slowly growing up and learning their skills and limits (short term advantage and benefits gained by deceit can lead to long term negative consequences / Chilchuck is not a fighting type, neither is the wife, and maybe her sense of adventure never really took the threats seriously enough that came with the task and discovery) only to shift again. You can't go in a dungeon with 3 little kids. One of them have to stay behind and since Chilchuck is the more talented he goes to earn a living, working really hard to get an early retirement so they can live comfortable settled down with him as a locksmith. She's okay with following him around cause they do share their dreams, they have their own way of talking and trusting each other.

but. what did upset her then? that he was enjoying being in an adventure that she wanted to go on years and years ago? that their gap in skill and knowledge will grow only bigger and bigger even if she would to join him now that their kids are all grown up? that no matter how hard she would work, most people would only know her as Chilchuck's wife, you know the guy who set up the guild and all? that even though they were always the same, she became a shadow? that even if he retires early he won't have these lively nights with her because there are no such grand adventures to reminisense about as with the others?

or was it the settling down that was wrong? they were on the move for half their lives, maybe she was a true traveler - but only if they go together. we know she is with Fuller and Fuller herself has simple life-goals - marry a rich dwarf. not exactly the up and about attitude. but Patty sounds just like that, not taking things too seriously, (maybe not understanding the gravity of situations) she sounds like she fell in love with the constant on the move, traveling life she was born into. and maybe their mother really just waits for Chilchuck to once again offer to travel with her, no matter where her wanderlust takes them. but they don't talk.

Chilchuck says he's still angry because he doesn't understand. Or he understands but feels like she's just acting dramatic for drama's sake and he hates that. So he's angry. and because he avoids emotional decisions if possible he does not initiate any reconnection as of yet. above all he respects others, if his wife says this is the end then okay. maybe it is the end. he's not big on romantics anyway

he loves the person not the concept of 'being in love'. he's practical like that. knows his preferences and all, but he cares. deeply. for the person, not the feeling. this is really important.

so he will respect his wife's decision, cause it might just be true - they are no longer in love. or never was, not in a sense Marcille (and the fandom) thinks love works.

being friends first builds up love of practical ways, the intimacy starting with mundane little habits, gradually building up to something more. and how strange could it have been for these two friend from childhood to see their daughters start as well in a set. but that's another topic. so what i'm trying to mumble out - Chilchuck being a practical man first and a cautious one, likes to keep his head calm when making decisions. and he feels he cannot keep calm enough to decide if he wants to go and talk with his wife over this strange misunderstanding or not. he knows when to admit if he's wrong, so he probably is not in the wrong. or is he?

we have this wonderful cover depicting his view on the whole socialization and it's traps mentality with feelings and such. lovely lovely details all around.

we see him hesitating between obvious options, things people usually say and things he knows he has to say. or would like to say. we get an early tease at Patty and the others here, right at his feet.

see how he accepts Izutsumi just as she is (that cursor is searching for the prompt to 'pet' - fight me on this, i dare you)

and see how he usually is with people he's comfortable with

and this right here? that's the wife (me thinks. no evidence, just a hunch)

the little heart meter with each ask box? check them to see how much he cares for the other.

Patty's full - he is a proud dad, knows how to say no but clearly loves his daughters.

Senshi's almost full - and we know they bond well after clearing up the no communication problem. hey even his succubus forms are kinda- look the story is amazingly written, i'm not here to profile the character's sexuality, i'm here to discuss the relationships and motives.

we don't see Izutsumi's but i have a hunch it's similarly up.

Laios's almost full as well, while Falin's is pretty low. the memories are from different times, Falin's is probably the first time he was healed by her (pretty early on in their adventure, he was only joining their group because a friend asked him and the siblings paid up front) Laios's is a memory we saw happen - after about 3 years of adventuring together, he finally admits he cares about them.

there's a little indicator of his mental state (drunk, scared, deadly injured, average) all together a lovely concept that depicts so much so well.

if we take the layers into account as well, they represent how much he thinks about them. the guild, the daughters and the mysterious hands on hips are all in the background, (as is Izutsumi and Senshi), comfortably tucked away but not forgotten.

the chapter starts with him being moody cause Marcille went full on fangirl gossip girl mode and it's a bit too much for him.

when they try to lure in the bicorn with the sins, we see this little interaction. he's setting up a little game here, we see how he's at ease, this is friendly banter for him. so when Marcille reacts the way she does, because he was too mean, we see the 'other route' he thought this could go. just like the cover. a or b.

then he's busted. he started the chapter with snapping at Marcille saying he cheated on his wife but turns out, by the laws of monsters and virtues he's all good.

he's threatened yes, but he also has to face the reality of admitting he doesn't understand this situation. which is hard.

the more speculative Marcille gets, the more dread comes over Chilchuck as she 'unlocks' some secrets about these little games for him. he probably knows his wife better than anyone, yet he can forget just how mean he can sound like. or how aloof. but sadly we'll never know which part did Marcille nail in her rambling, the part about the wife or the part of how the wife saw Chilchuck.

cause she's too eager too, we'll never know WHAT exactly struck the uncanny valley projection for Chilchuck. ah well, pity

BUT

Marcille being a good friend doesn't let him have the existential crisis only, she gives a good advice - and reminder. he might be horrible with words describing feelings so honest and raw as loving someone, but he has his actions and reliable nature. and if they were friends first, she would know that as well.

Chilchuck being his realistic self is catious but this not quite smile/grimace feels timid and genuine. (also once again we see him reach out of the frame, think outside the box, yada yada visual story telling, i'm no expert but it's there, as well as Laios and Izutsumi's face just a tad bit curious and surprised - not just Marcille would love to know more about this man's family)

and once again the whole chapter ending with this. from the thank you letter we know he meets up with the daughters, the wife is still a mystery hence the whole post but i rambled on too long again.

whatever, i cannot help being Marcille with this.

#chilchuck's wife #chilchuck tims #spoilers #Mayjack Tims #Fullertom Tims #Packpatty Tims #dungeon meshi spoilers #we are all Marcille #i get you gurl #you just gotta know

[anchoredarchangel]

Thanks for the tag @anincompletelist ! I’ve never played this one before 💫🤍

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

beneath the cut because I’m wordy as hell oops.

From No Consequences:

If Alex revisits the metaphor about his brain at the best of times, this is the moment where the toddler holding the flipbook exchanges their sugar addiction for straight cocaine. The good stuff. High quality. This is Alex’s brain on drugs.

From Hope is a Five-Alarm Fire:

Alex stares at him without blinking the way other people probably look at renaissance art: like magnificence beyond the scope of words, a pinnacle of creation, something meant to be kept pristine, locked away from the ruining touch of the masses. Except he’s putting his filthy fucking hands all over it, leaving smudging fingerprints behind. And the art likes it. 

From The Cosmos in His Palms:

Alex thinks about Henry, about pulling the stars from the sky just to tuck them carefully in Henry's chest beside his heart to keep him company, so he'd never have to look for them again; about what Alex would be willing to do to put the cosmos in his palms.  He’d do the impossible. He’d defy the gods that put them there. 

From The Throne He Deserves:

Who kisses Alex like he’s the water in the desert and he doesn’t care if it’s a mirage so long as he doesn’t die in pain, and who fucks him like it might be worth the pain of dying just to do it again and again. 

From The Wait Before the Fall:

“This is not all that I am,” Henry tells him, turning back to the statue, something tumultuous in him settling, going just as still as the museum air. “Not anymore.” He looks up, that beautiful, defiant tilt to his chin; not to the man being crushed, but at the plaster of the woman—head draped in a lion’s skin, club in hand, kneeling on the shield in victory. Valour and Cowardice: Valour.

From A Spark and Flash Paper:

In a rare moment of courage, he does the latter. He chooses himself. No bloody consequences.

From A Sin Better Than Heaven:

“Imagine how I will feel to your cock,” he says boldly, and Alexander meets his eyes; the brown all but eclipsed by a full moon of darkness.  “I will not,” he murmurs, “because I intend to know with certainty.”

From The Very Portrait of Temptation:

Alexander’s mouth slows, a kiss longer and deeper and felt in every nook of him—the king's tongue sliding expertly past Henry's teeth, like a dagger through the widening crack in what remains of Henry's armor. This—it is everything, and everything that it is is enough to drive men to madness beyond the point of hysteria, enough to lose what remains of his wits, enough to foolishly hope for an unlikely change of fate. One where he is not a deceitful seducer, but rather a trusted confidante. One where he is even, perhaps, an actual lover, true as North.  A beautiful agony, most mad indeed. 

my tumbling has been iffy lately and I’m not sure who has already played—so if you see this and you haven’t posted one yet, here’s an open tag from me to you 💌

but also @firenati0n when you’re back I want to see!

#tag games #fic pride friday #rwrb #rwrb fanfic

[delimeful]

the roots of something greener (1)

G/T July Day 9: Rainy Day

patreon prompt: kid logan trying to make a deal with fae janus for nyn! hope you enjoy :)

warnings: magical deals, threats, unwilling transformation, implied parental neglect, mentions of starvation and abandonment

-

The first time the child found him, Janus was already in a foul mood.

The day had started out with a light drizzle, and as the hours crept by, it had slowly grown into a far more irritating downpour.

This wouldn’t have been anything near a problem for most fae, and certainly a meager handful of years ago, Janus would have hardly spared it a fleeting thought. Even if he didn’t care to waste any magic on a simple repelling spell, he could have simply slipped between realms, abandoning that particular stretch of human land until the storm passed.

Now that he was banished and bound, however, his options were far more limited.

There would be no leaving the human realm, not until his time was served. His sentence wasn’t so harsh as to confine him to a single circle, but being able to jump between this and that ring of mushrooms didn’t help him much when the rainfall was present over the entire forest.

He grit his teeth as a stray drop managed to make it through the leaves above him, the thickest canopy he could find over one of his rings.

Though it was only a single raindrop, it drenched his head and shoulders with ease. His form in mortal realm was limited by the space he was allowed, and the only proper faery rings within these woods were barely large enough for a human to step a single foot into.

He wasn’t sure if only being able to manifest at the same size as a child’s doll was an intentional part of his punishment, or merely a bonus. Either way, it was certainly humiliating enough for him to resent it.

It was in this soaked, resentful mood that he heard the distinct pattern of human footsteps, leaves and other detritus crunching rhythmically underfoot.

“What curious timing,” he muttered irritatedly to himself, turning to face the intruder with a smile that was almost certainly a little too sharp for human tastes.

… And then promptly lowered his expectant gaze a foot or two, because the human approaching him was unquestionably a mere child.

Young, likely barely a decade old, and with the thickest, blockiest pair of spectacles Janus had seen in ages. While the child wasn’t dressed for the weather, he was carefully holding a deep blue umbrella over his head as he picked his way over the muddy forest floor.

The little thing froze for a moment at the sight of him, and for a moment Janus thought perhaps this was some unwise youth that had wandered off from his parents, with no idea what was before him.

Then, he straightened up formally, eyes glinting with excitement, and it became clear that the child knew exactly what Janus was, and likely thought he knew exactly what he was getting into, as well.

(Part of Janus was admittedly relieved. Being locked out of his home realm meant there was no easy defense against humans who stepped into the space of the ring, and he really wasn’t in the mood to dodge the grasping fingers of a toddler who thought him a toy.)

“Salutations,” the child greeted belatedly, quickly reaching up to adjust his rain-splattered glasses with his free hand. The umbrella drooped slightly without the support of both of those undersized arms. “I’m searching for the, um, the fair folk of this wood. I’d like to make a deal.”

How bold, to open with such an attention-grabbing phrase. Janus reclined back slightly, attempting to look regal even with his hair plastered in wet strands across his face. “Well, now. Isn’t it good manners to introduce yourself before making requests of strangers?”

The child’s face pinched slightly, but he’d clearly done at least some research. “You may call me Logic.”

Janus hummed. “Well met, Logic. I go by Deceit.”

“Deceit?” Logic echoed with a frown. “I thought fair folk weren’t able to lie.”

“They’re not,” Janus agreed pleasantly, some of his humor returning to him at the usage of a familiar bit.

For all his flaws, none of the humans he’d tricked over the years could claim they hadn’t been warned from the start.

“Then why,” Logic started, before shaking his head firmly, dismissing the line of questioning in favor of his original goal. Whatever had brought him here, it was clearly important to him.

It always was, when they were willing to make a deal for it.

“I’d like to make a deal,” he repeated, setting his shoulders and stiffening his posture. “I want to learn how to use magic.”

Janus refrained from letting the derisive edge sneak into his smile. “And what could you possibly have to offer in return for that?”

“I can offer you equal knowledge in exchange,” Logic responded, wearing a very serious expression that looked quite amusing on such a young face. “I may be young, but you’ll find that I’m very good at researching.”

The offer was exactly what he should have expected from a human child, especially one that had never dealt with the fae before. It was likely that his little research hobby was the only reason he’d learned enough to make it this far.

“My, you certainly have a lot of confidence in the value of knowledge, don’t you?” Janus mused, distantly glad that it was him that the child had chosen to annoy with this, rather than a more power-hungry sort. “Very well, I accept the terms of your deal.”

He held out a hand, and almost immediately regretted it. He’d forgotten how easily dwarfed he was, like this.

When Logic reached out, however, it was with a slow and careful hand, his face scrunched up intently as he used two fingers to emulate a handshake. There was no pinching pressure or crushing grip, only the distinct warmth of human contact and the slight electric spark of the deal being sealed.

It almost made Janus feel bad for what he was about to do.

“Your first lesson,” he announced, pulling his hand back and flexing his fingers absently, “is to never make such open-ended deals with fae.”

Logic recoiled slightly, looking slightly bewildered, and Janus forced his smile into something crueler as the sting of magic grew sharper.

“An offer of any knowledge I please, so long as it’s of equal value? You haven’t even clarified which kind of magic you’re so desperate to learn.” Janus leaned forward slightly, wrapping his hand around the invisible cord of the deal. “I could request your name, control over the very essence of your being, and all I would be required to do in exchange would be provide you with instruction on magic of suitable power. Your terms are exploitable, little one.”

He let the implied threat linger, watching as the implications sunk in and the child’s worry began to turn to fear. The sight of it was a sour curl in his gut, but this was a lesson better learned here and now, rather than later and with more permanent consequences.

“Of course, I have no particular desire to teach you any magic at all, let alone the complexities of magic strong enough to be equivalent to a name.” Janus slowly released all but the tiniest sliver of the potential the deal held. “Hm. I think a demonstration of simple magic will do, to satisfy both your curiosity and mine.”

Transformation spells were painful and slow when cast a certain way, a fact that many of his kin had taken advantage of when dealing with humans. Janus kept the magic brief and painless, because for all his flaws, enjoying the needless suffering of a child was not one of them.

With a snap of his fingers, the child’s form shifted to something more thematically appropriate.

The umbrella clattered to the ground, catching on the breeze and skittering a few feet away from the kitten that now sat on the ground before him, blinking in disorientation.

“Consider our bargain complete,” Janus informed the kid, finally able to speak to him at eye level. “As the last tidbit of magical knowledge I’ll impart, have this: recognition is the key to returning you to your true form.”

Looking as though he was composed of more fluff than flesh, Logic let out a tiny, confused meow. His eyes were surrounded by distinctive, blocky markings, the spitting image of the chunky square glasses that he wore as a human. It was the easiest possible condition Janus had ever set; it was near-impossible to look at the kitten and not see the resemblance.

With a flick of his hand, the kitten was whisked to the edge of the woods that he’d entered from, where there was surely a guardian nearby to find him and undo the minor curse before the sun had set.

With any luck, the experience would scare the kid off from any further attempts at playing with magic he didn’t understand.

Job done, Janus glanced at the abandoned umbrella, lying far out of reach of his undersized mushroom ring, and then turned away with a sigh.

What a waste.

–

Janus hadn’t been one to keep track of the time, before, but that may have simply been because time was much less linear in the faerie realm. The length between one moment and the next could be stretched or squashed, and so time tended to be more of a feeling than a fact.

In the human realm, things were much simpler. The sun rose and fell and rose again, and that was a day, every time without fail. He could hardly lose track of something like that.

As such, Janus knew that two full days had passed when he next saw Logic.

Logic, not the child, because he was still, inexplicably, in the form of that tiny, barely-weaned kitten.

It had been sheer luck that Janus spotted him; he’d been moving between one ring and the next throughout the day, absently looking for any stray detritus that had fallen close enough to his ring to be tugged fully inside. Any shelter made from such impermanent materials was destined to be temporary, but Janus was tired of the chill, and willing to take any reprieve from the elements he was offered.

Looking at the soggy little beast that was crouched a few meters away, Janus felt an odd sense of guilt crop up within him. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who had been enduring the weather.

Fur matted and damp from the on and off rain that had plagued the area, body trembling from cold or hunger or a combination of the two, Logic looked like the definition of pitiful.

And why wouldn’t he? For all intents and purposes, the child apparently spent the last couple of days trapped in an unfamiliar body and stuck in a hostile environment, with no aid to be found.

… Why hadn’t someone recognized him? For that matter, why weren’t there humans traipsing about through the trees in search of a missing child?

Logic sneezed miserably, interrupting what seemed to be an attempt to use his new, keener nose to track down a meal. His tiny ears angled back in a distinctly feline form of frustration, a gesture that would have undoubtedly been cuter if he hadn’t been so visibly on the brink of starving.

Well. Janus wouldn’t get his answers if he just left the child there, would he?

“I know you, child,” he said, voice carrying enough to make the kitten’s head snap around toward him. “I didn’t expect you to still be scurrying about like this. Why in the world would you not simply go home?”

Acknowledging his true form did the trick. The spell unraveled like he’d pulled on a loose thread in a knit blanket, the magic falling away with ease and leaving the child in his oversized spectacles sitting there in the dew-dappled grass.

For a moment, he remained like that, folded over on himself like a baby deer laying still and hoping that predators’ eyes would skip over him.

Janus met his gaze and raised a prompting eyebrow, waiting for an explanation on how such a simple curse had gone so wrong that the fae who laid it, of all people, had to be the one to free him from it.

In the next second, Logic had sprung to his feet and bolted. His steps were wobbly and likely fueled by panic alone, but adrenaline was undeniably effective in getting him very far away, very quickly.

“Rude,” Janus muttered to the empty air he’d left behind, and then followed the kid as far as he could manage through his rings, making certain this time that he’d actually left the forest behind.

There still wasn’t a single other human around, let alone one that appeared to be looking for something as valuable as lost offspring. Janus tried not to let the information grate against his scales, with only mild success.

In the end, he still wouldn’t get his answers. It didn’t matter. The child had clearly been scared off for good, so there was no use pursuing the issue further.

He shouldn’t dwell on things he couldn’t change, anyhow.

–

The third time Janus encountered Logic, the child found him first.

It was another overcast day, with a light sprinkling of rain that was certain to become something miserably damp within an hour or two.

He hadn’t expected any more visitors, and certainly not any that would make it to one of his rings and lurk there, so he’d been more puzzled by the relative dryness of the leaves beneath his feet. In fact, he hadn’t realized anyone was near, let alone guessed just who was sitting at the edge of the faerie circle until a tiny, presumptuous throat cleared.

(Such obliviousness was out of character for him. If the kid had been a snake, he could have bit Janus.

Good thing he’d picked a kitten before, instead.

Even if those, too, had fangs of their own.)

Logic waved a hand, showing no signs of his previous panicked flight– except there was a slightly harder set to his shoulders, Janus noticed, like he was preparing for a difficult fight.

He’d brought a bag with him this time. It was partially open, and Janus easily made the connection between the spare pieces spilling from it and the plastic canopy that had been painstakingly assembled over his mushroom ring. Large and durable, it was currently diverting the rain away from Janus’s circle with streamlined ease.

“Hello, Deceit,” the kid greeted. “I’m back for my next lesson.”

Between them, the deal rekindled, sparking dull embers back to life at Logic’s willful insistence. With a willingness to keep providing knowledge, he could theoretically continue to learn for as many lessons as he paid the dues for. It was one of the many loopholes that were applicable to such open-ended deals, but Janus certainly hadn’t anticipated the child using it against him.

How interesting. It seemed there were still things an ages-old fae couldn’t predict, after all.

From beneath the comfortable shelter of an oversized dollhouse gazebo, Janus tipped his head back and laughed.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #g/t july #ts janus #ts logan #fae au #trosg #the roots of something greener #my writing #writing

[mrchiipchrome]

another teaser for the lessi fic

You nod absentmindedly at the reassurance from the older player, looking at your door like it would magically open on its own and kidnap you from the deceitful conversation you were having.

When it does happen, it isn’t magically, no there’s a blonde hiding timidly behind the door, and you pray to every deity that she hadn’t heard your conversation.

“Hey, training starts soon so you better hurry up and put the training kit on.”

Lucy smiles at Alessia as the blonde closes the door behind you, clearly relieved to no longer have to take part in the taunting conversation anymore.

Lucy envied you, she too wished to be young and so dramatically in love that every single word uttered from your lover's lips feels like a twist of the knife of Aphrodite.

But she couldn’t, no not any longer.

The years of her youth were far gone, passed by like a breath of spring and the rest of her life was creeping up on her, she couldn’t even start to try and deal with the usual feelings of mediocrity and pain in her joints, the years were simply no longer creeping like a toddler, but rather running like that of a teenage boy trying to keep up pace with a car.

#woso #alessia russo #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #lionesses

[maiuowrites]

There's a rumor spreading...

A rumor to which will endanger my life.

Not just mine, but those who work below me, as well...

I'm not fond of lies spreading, but I have my ways of dealing with misjift cowards trying to derail the trust I worked hard into this annoying existence I was brought into.

The rumor is that I have been having a relationship with my Second Commander...

Whoever brought that up will be found and brought to my own hands of Justice. They better HoPe I don't find them... For my works are legendary in this world.

Ribba the Rabbit; Though affectionately called that by family, makes me somewhat regretful I allowed her to join the stats of these beings I command.

Oddly an aloof and dimwitted female rabbit monsters with the mindset of a toddler on the best of days; Always smiling and laughing where she can, constantly getting my Soldiers riled up and playing along with her games... Ribba has even gotten my brother into her antics, but that isn't as shocking with my brothers records.

However, besides the obvious downfalls of her personality, there are some good qualities to her.. The only few saving graces to being in this pandemonium world of ours.

Ribba's speed and hindsight of not needing to see where she strikes an enemy; Able to deal either deathly wounds or just an ounce of their life; Has gained her the nickname "Brisk Lapin".

Having another pair of hands to do that is a feature; Something not many of the others can do. Otherwise, I wouldn't have her in my quadrants to begin with...

Another is how she can keep the HoPe of the others alive. Her ability to be almost carefree and flowing with many creatures down here have easily broken up many fights. She says she doesn't have patience's, just plenty of experience when her toddler siblings would fight... Her tactics are that of a Mother, but it works. Annoyingly so.

But there is something odd with my Second Commander... I have noticed her ears will twitch first to others when they speak to her; But I suspect it's a power stance which I can admire.

Noticed the things others wouldn't with her paws; how she will tap certain items like tables with items on them and slightly hover her fingers until she reached the desired item in question. Or how she fumbles and makes it look like she's a clumsy rabbit...

Whether it's to have others guess her techniques and wonder how she got into my army's ranks or there is actually something wrong with her is still a secret I will be finding out on a later date.

For now; How could I possibly have any connection to a creature who is so opposite to myself in ways of personality? She doesn't even strike fear into others. She doesn't growl, doesn't yell, and takes those who yell at her rather than standing up for herself...

... But I saw that if it's for those under her; She stands up and shows a different side to that-... Disgustingly sweet side.

They have written in terms of how she strikes fear into those who have harmed her section. Issuing in some deaths, which from the aspects of the situation; Were unavoidable.

Perhaps-... The Judge wasn't wrong when they assigned her to being the new Second Commander.

...

Why would I care though?

She's just a rabbit monster; The shortest breed there is, as well. Normally used in the Parlor of Muffet's as prostitute's, somehow missed the memo & joined the ranks...

Perhaps that is why such a rumor is spreading...

...

It's a good thing I just found the deceitful imbecile, brave enough to run their mouth with me right behind him.

Time to show them not to mess with the Black Executioner.

#swapfell red #swapfell #maiuo #maiuowrites #short story #Swapfell Red Sans #SFR!Sans #SF!Sans #Undertale AU #SansxRibba #Lil'hint of a story with SFR!Sans(Whose Regal) & Ribba the rabbit #The Judge placed her there did he? #Oh that sly dog #:)

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 33: Paper Prince. Katsu’s investigation sends her to the last place Mitsuhide wants her to go, with the last person he would want her to be with.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

Have lockpick, will travel…

Francisco was not home, and his building locked and closed up as if he expected to be gone for a while.  Another opportunity to put the lock picks to good use.  Now that I understood the trick to it all, it took me mere seconds to open the lock. No wonder these locks are not used very often - they're terrible.

It took only a few more minutes to break into the desk and retrieve my money. After considering the matter further, I also confirmed there were no false bottoms and hidden drawers in his desk. Though Francisco said he didn’t have any information that could help me find Aki now, I also wanted to find out who Aki had been in the past.  Aki then, the Aki my mother knew, he too was someone I needed to know, even if it was just the memory of who he used to be.

All I found was one more drawing. Francisco could have become an artist if he had not gone into a time traveling career. He’d sketched a large group of people sitting in a room full of books. I recognized Aki and my mother, but the others... wait... was that a toddler Sasuke? The serious expression seemed familiar, even if the mochi patterned onesie did not. I debated taking this with me too - when I found Sasuke again he'd be sure to find it amusing - but these were Francisco's memories and I couldn't steal them.

Another thing I couldn’t find? Tea. So with a pot of terrible coffee at my side, I picked up my old life, and after too many weeks, I settled down to finally, finally, finish decoding and reading Aki's letter. Cloud city moment… Sasuke… bank numbers. I skimmed past the old news, trying to find the point where I'd stopped.

However, just as Francisco has his reasons, I am requesting that you stay here. There is an important mission, a vital one that could mean the difference between the future of your timeline, of all timelines, and chaos. There is a young boy by the name of Hikosane. That is all I know about him in this timeline. Soon after you arrived in this era, a cataclysmic event splintered the timeline, and Hikosane (or sometimes Hiko) was sent onto very different paths. It is vital that this boy survives past his tenth birthday.

Hiko? Sho’s brother Hiko? It was not an uncommon name – there were probably dozens of Hikos scattered across the land. I read further, but Aki was not of any help.

Who is he? Unfortunately, that depends upon the timeline.

Great. I suppose I could proceed upon the fact that the Hiko I knew was about the correct age, and that he’d already nearly been killed. Why was he important, though? Was he someone special to the future? Someone’s father or grandfather? Oooh, what if he was my great, great x20 grandfather?

WHO is he, you are probably asking me now. As I once told Master Mikumo, he’s not anyone specific, but he is the butterfly. In every timeline, he will do something important to protect the future. It might be as simple as giving a warlord a mouthful of water at the right moment. Or it might be as complicated as growing up to be an important Daimyo himself. The event that threw his alternates onto different paths, didn’t erase his importance to the future… only his role.

Therefore, in every timeline, Iekane is trying to kill him. I once told you that I thought Iekane’s antipathy to you was simple jealousy.  That was not a lie, but it was not the entire story. And it is not a story that I am able to share.

Thanks Aki.

Katsuko, I am certain you believe I have given you few choices in this era, but in this, I have no other recourse but to tell you that what you do next is your decision. You may choose to reject everything I have told you, but I hope you do not. More than that, I hope that you never have to read this letter and that I have managed to give you this information in person. But if I have not, know that I am proud of you, and the life you have made for yourself here.

Aki

The sun was already at its highpoint when I finally put the decoded letter down. Not because it had been that difficult to decode, but because I'd had a hard time believing everything he had told me in his typical far too cryptic Aki way.

Of course because either he was in a hurry, or because he didn’t want to segue into science, Aki didn’t bother wasting time (time which he clearly had a lot of given due to the whole time travel thing) explaining. Why? How did he know these things, or how he knew that Hiko was important to the future? Why was Iekane trying to kill him?

Iekane.

There he was again. All roads led back to him.

Gunshot? Shojumaru and I both immediately alerted and looked around. There … a man, just in profile, slipping around the corner of the restaurant. The profile was enough though – it was Iekane.

Was I imagining that, inserting a memory of him at the scene because Aki's letter had suggested it to me?

I am not careless – I was pushed.

“It won’t matter if he runs.” Iekane made a fist, and I rolled away from the punch before it connected. “No matter how many timelines you try to save in him, we’ll always be waiting for you.”

Those, those were not my memories, and yet, they were clearer than the memory of the accident. What was happening to me?

“Hikosane – on the count of three, Okatsu will throw her knife behind and to the left of the snake. As soon as it turns to look at the knife, you are to roll to the right.”

My fingers were becoming numb, but there was no way I was going to let the boy or the branch slip away from me. Mentally, I chanted instructions to myself. Don’t let go of the branch…. Don’t let go of the boy… keep your mouth closed when you’re underwater. The last one was a difficult mantra to follow when all I wanted to do was cough up the water that I’d already swallowed.

I rubbed my eyes, hoping to find a path through these familiar-unfamiliar images. Was this the Hiko I would or had saved?

Should I retrieve Hiko and keep him with me? I couldn’t watch over him every minute of the day, and at some point Motonari would return. If he found me with Hiko, then he’d probably kill me on the spot.

Could I take Hiko to the Mountain for safety? Would he go with me if I asked?

What if he was the wrong Hiko?

Cursing Aki for giving me so few identifying details, I wondered if I should find Iekane and take care of him before he could get to Hiko?  It seemed that he was the key to finding Aki. And possibly finding the right Hiko.

And to find out where Iekane was, I'd have to go back to the last place I had gotten any word about him - de Sousa's.

Thankfully my breaking and entering skills were far better these days, thanks to... Mitsuhide.

That decided, I went through Francisco's office looking for tools that might help me next. An extra dagger, a few small trinkets that could be traded for food or other weapons, and some loose coins I found in the desk. What wasn’t in the office, and still missing, was my bravado. I hopefully hadn't left that at Mitsuhide's. I was going to need that the most.

What, or who, I wasn't going to need was Kyubei, but he was waiting outside Francisco's when I left the building. He was leaning against the wall of a restaurant, his expression as inscrutable as always. "Did he ask you to follow me, or is this a side gig?"

"He asked, but I would have followed you anyway. He only wishes to assure himself that you are safe, and know where to find you if he-" Kyubei paused, seemed to be choosing his wording, "Realizes he made a mistake letting you go."

"I am sure he didn’t say all that." While I had seen Mitsuhide beat himself up over imagined mistakes, this, my voluntary exit from his life, wasn’t the kind of thing that would torture him. Not unless my leaving eventually affected the Oda as a whole.

"No. He only said he wanted to make sure of your direction in case he located Aki." Kyubei handed me some coins. "I was paraphrasing."

Was this money from Mitsuhide… or Kyubei? Knowing that he would not take them back, even if I refused them, I put them in my coin purse. "Thank you. I haven't found him, although I have more information that suggests the person involved in his disappearance is one of Aki's old couriers. I’m going to follow that thread next."

When Kyubei relayed that to Mitsuhide, as I knew he would, Mitsuhide would understand who I meant.

"I wish you a good journey then." Kyubei bowed and there seemed to be a few more unsaid words in that bow. Then he walked away. I watched until he disappeared from view. He was totally going to double back and follow me - but it was always nice to have back-up.

Not wanting to have to sneak into de Sousa’s house in daylight, I decided to check up on my horse. I had hoped that Francisco might have managed to stop by and pet her, but given her mood when I arrived at the posting inn where I’d been boarding her, such visits had been few or not at all. To say she was annoyed at being cooped up for weeks would be an understatement. It took me most of the rest of the afternoon to ride the sulks out of her, and she nearly bit a chunk out of my shoulder in the process. Nor was she pleased that when the ride ended, I reluctantly returned her to the inn.

It was faster to walk to de Sousa’s, and had I brought her with me, I would have had to find a place to hide her.

As before, the lights on the second floor were bright, and I could see the shadows of men and women walking past. Another dinner or banquet? He certainly had an active social calendar.

After careful consideration of my options, I took the oilskin that I used when I was delivering messages, wrapped it around a blank piece of paper, and walked in the machiya as if I were simply making a delivery (it’s not as if I hadn’t delivered hundreds of messages in the past). Once inside the door, it was simple enough to peel off into the office unnoticed.

Good to know that several weeks with Mitsuhide had not dimmed my ability to blend into the scenery as if I were invisible.

It was quiet. No rain this ti—no. I refused to reminisce about the last time I'd been in here. The time when Mitsuhide had nearly desk-a-doned me to cover up our search. You are indeed remembering it. After mentally slapping myself in the face, I made my way to the desk that I totally wasn’t reminiscing about, and opened the (still unlocked) drawer.

It seemed that de Sousa never had discovered that Mitsuhide and I had gone through his desk. Having pinpointed the date of de Sousa's betrayal previously, it was a simple task to go through the subsequent correspondence in search of any clues to Iekane's current whereabouts.

Again, I flipped past personal looking missives, random business lists… there fewer letters to go through, and nothing at all from Portugal. Ok, that did make sense, as it wasn’t as if the big Portuguese ships were docking even on a monthly basis. He probably heard from Europe no more than one or two times a year.

At last, I found correspondence from Iekane himself. Unfortunately, it had limited information and was, in itself simply asking for where de Sousa would like balance of the funds delivered and noting that he had received the weapons, they met with approval, and would de Sousa be interested in a business proposition?

It was typical of Iekane’s half-lies and insinuations, and I got the impression he was feeling out de Sousa as to how far and how much he'd be willing to deal. I got it. The Nanban merchant had already reneged on a contract with Nobunaga, but that took little effort. He'd then slipped further into crime by looking the other way when Motonari had taken Hideyoshi and Mai prisoners (maybe he hadn’t even known about that, or at least refused to know). Perhaps he had convinced himself that he'd done nothing to cause their disappearance.

So here was Iekane asking, nudging, him further down the path of evil. Offering more business propositions… gauging interest.  

Unfortunately, this missive neither spelled out what he wanted de Sousa to do, nor gave any specific clues as to where he was currently located.

Ugh.

Frustrated, I started to reorganize the correspondence and --

Oh you've got to be kidding me.

Lying on top, (on top!) of the desk was another letter. It must have recently arrived. Clearly de Sousa was not an evil genius... no, just a man tempted down the slope into money and power who had not yet learned to lock his evil plans in a drawer! I’d given him too much credit and not even bothered to look on top of the desk.

If Mitsuhide had been here, he would have teased me for not thinking about that first… or, just waved the letter at me with a smug grin.

Cursing myself for the delay, I opened the letter, it was longer, but from context, de Sousa must have previously responded to Iekane’s feeler letter and professed himself willing to help. Iekane's response?  As long as you can supply muskets, I expect this to be a long and profitable partnership. Before the first snow falls, a representative from Ashikaga Yoshiaki will deliver a partial payment of silver for the next shipment of weapons.

Yoshiaki? The deposed Shogun? Where had I last heard his named mentioned? I attempted the twin memory tasks of putting everything back where I had found it, while I tried to recall exactly who had mentioned him before. Because the name had come up over the summer.

But standing around the office wouldn’t help me remember things, and it would increase the danger of discovery, so I gave the room one last double check, then slipped out, leaving the town house just as stealthily as I had entered it. Right on time, too. The current party seemed to be breaking up, as I heard the thumping of footsteps from the top floor.

Sticking close to the shadow of the building, I turned to make my way back toward the center of the city. Just as I reached the corner, I paused. What if that letter from Iekane had been delivered by a messenger who stayed for dinner? After all, the letter had been on top of the desk, which indicated a recent arrival. For that matter, what if it had been delivered by lekane himself?

Ok, that last bit was unlikely. If Iekane brought the letter in person, well, then he would have had no need to write it down. Even so, it was worth watching those who departed the building. I couldn't follow all of them, but it was worth making a note of who was there and checking them out later. Ducking behind an ornamental shrub, I crouched lower and smaller to observe the guests.

Tadayo, the fabric merchant, ok, he was a possible messenger, given his prior connection with Motonari. A trader who was also a member of the Kaigoshu. I couldn’t figure an obvious interest there. If I recalled correctly, his primary business was exporting local ceramics in trade for Chinese and Indian art. Then a tall graceful man who I had no problem identifying, as there was no mistaking the elegant profile of Yoshimoto.

“I've little experience with him, though I once saw him conversing with an agent of Yoshiaki, which does not speak well of him.” Yoshimoto folded up the handkerchief as neatly, more neatly in fact, than it had been and picked up another.

Ah ha! Yoshimoto was the one who mentioned seeing ‘Shojumaru’ with Yoshiaki.

Congratulations Yoshimoto… you’ve just become a person of interest.

While I watched from my stakeout shrub, Yoshimoto climbed into a waiting palanquin. Had he even left Sakai in the past month? Either way, it was likely that he was at the same inn as before.

By the time Yoshimoto drifted into his room, I was waiting there for him. Not to be mistaken for an intruder (ok, I was an intruder, but not one with nefarious intentions), I had left a few lanterns burning. As intended, he saw me as soon as he entered, and without appearing to be startled, he simply bowed. "Katsu, you're looking well. I'd heard you'd been in an accident, but when I inquired if I could stop by, Mitsuhide said you were too ill."

Really? Mitsuhide hadn't mentioned that. So much had happened since the accident that it felt like it had occurred a year ago, instead of merely weeks. "There were a few days where I would not have been suitable for visitors." And I doubted that even Yoshimoto’s benign affection for me would have survived if I had thrown up on him. "Anyway, I've recovered."

Without acknowledging that I had broken into his rooms (after all this breaking and entering I'd been doing, the color of my parachute was probably larceny), Yoshimoto treated me like an invited guest, offering me sake, then when I turned that down, called for a tea maid to come and make us a fresh pot.

In the meanwhile, he, without any modesty, changed into his night kimono, pressing the tea maid into service as a valet of sorts. I allowed Yoshimoto the time. While it was true I wanted answers to my questions, it seemed impolite to interrogate him while he was changing clothes. Plus, even though I was getting used to Yoshimoto’s casual indifference to nudity, the naked Yoshimoto was a bit distracting.  

Finally once the (slightly overcome) tea maid had departed (after receiving an elegant kiss on the back of her hand), Yoshimoto settled in. He didn’t exactly say, 'to what do I owe the honor of your call' but instead, with a graceful wave Yoshimoto indicated that I had the floor.

"Yoshiaki." Would Yoshimoto look guilty if he heard the name?

To the contrary, he simply closed his eyes for a moment, but when they reopened, he looked like he was in pain. "What have you discovered?"

"As far as I know, you're the last person who has seen him, or at least the last person I'm aware has seen him." Well aside from Motonari and - "wait, did you know that Shojumaru is Motonari Mouri?" Yoshimoto could have saved us a lot of time had he mentioned that before, and I finally felt a belated wave of sympathy for Mitsuhide, for if I had given up Kennyo's name in the early summer, I likely would have saved him some time as well.

"I did not. I only saw the man in passing as I was leaving." Yoshimoto pulled the tie out of his hair, and rubbed his scalp. His fine dark hair flew everywhere, puffing out, creating a nimbus in the lantern light. "In retrospect, it makes much sense... and I wish I had stayed to learn that. Yoshiaki meeting with someone with access to an army and a navy has far more ramifications than if he were meeting with a merchant. What else have you learned?"

To his credit, Yoshimoto dropped the lazy attitude and gave me his full attention.

Though I didn’t want to waste the time, I went ahead and summarized what had occurred over the past month. The rescue of Mai and Hideyoshi was a tangent to this and possibly not as important to someone tied to Kasugayama, but it had been the hoarding of information that had left both Yoshimoto and Mitsuhide with missing puzzle pieces, "Iekane was brokering a deal between Yoshiaki and de Sousa for more weapons. Personally, I'm interested in finding Iekane, and it seems if I am to do that, I need to find Yoshiaki.” Luckily Yoshimoto was already aware of the time travel aspect, or this would be a much longer conversation. “Do you know where he is?" I left unspoken a question of why Yoshimoto knew.

Yoshimoto rubbed his arm, almost as if he were reaching for a phantom limb. "I do. He wishes for the Imagawa to join him. I have been able to hold off my vassals by pointing out that alone, with our limited resources, such a campaign would lead to the slaughter of what little remains of our clan, but clearly the situation has changed."

"Is this a fight you wish to join?" Was I even now sitting down with an enemy of the Oda? Sure, I had always known that Sasuke worked for Kenshin, but I had never got the sense that his personal interest was to prolong the wars. Then again that had all been easier before I got to know the Oda better. Aki had always struck me as a lawful neutral (a clarification that was rapidly being reassessed to chaotic neutral), and I had figured that the information we were collecting was in the service of trying to help people out of the way of danger.

"In truth, what I wish to do and what I must do are on opposite sides of my being." Yoshimoto looked out the window, where the waning moon bathed him in an unearthly glow – it was as if he was fading in front of me. "If my vassals desire this battle, I am powerless to stop them, and my only chance is to join them to mitigate the loss of life." He looked back at me, "I imagine though, that the information you seek is only Yoshiaki’s direction."

I nodded, whatever emotion Yoshimoto was feeling, it was so thick it clogged the air in the room, invading my throat.

"You won't get anywhere near him. Though he has no army, he does have a large contingent of personal guards, and he is the guest of a daimyo who will protect his life and privacy." Yoshimoto sighed, and before I could point out that I didn’t need to get to Yoshiaki, only Iekane, he said, "I will take you there.”

@selenacosmic @lorei-writes @bestbryn @lyds323 @akitsuneswife @tele86

#10things #10 things I hate about Mitsuhide #mitsuhide monday #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen yoshimoto #oc katsuko #katsuverse

[lya-dustin]

All is Bliss

Chapter 58

Cw:murder, gaslighting, poison

Taglist:@alexandria-millie @mercedesdecorazon @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @ewanmitchellcrumbs @sweethoneyblossom1 @toms-cherry-trees

Aemma waits in her rooms as the procession comes into the keep and all are arrested the moment they arrive at the great feast hall to celebrate.

The guests are given a chance to change into their feast clothes and leave their weapons behind ---the city riots had them taking weapons to the anointing--- thus making them all the weaker.

The men who will be penning them inside the Great Hall are sworn to her, to her grandfather and Lord Wylde.

Not the council that just turned against Aegon when they saw the end at the gate, but those who have been on her side since she gave up her crown eight months ago.

“Will you kill him?” Aemond asks quietly standing behind her.

They had come here because no one must see him until Aegon is brought to the Great Hall and forced to admit defeat.

Gave them a chance to be together and plan their life a little.

Aemma would have to wait until the High Septon annuls their marriage to wed him and with the incoming winter it will likely be a small affair and then there is the issue that it might be viewed as illegitimate.

But they hadn’t really talked about that mess and instead had fucked like beasts the moment the door shut behind them.

Lucky for her, she had to change into something more appropriate for winning the war through deceit.

Aemma had never worn the armor her mother and grandmother commissioned for her before their deaths and despite having had a baby, it fit like a glove.

Melusina of the Sea, Aemond had called her as he saw in her Velaryon silver armor chased with gold and inlaid with Targaryen rubies.

“I promised your sister I would spare him; with any luck he will live a long life as her guest in Driftmark.” Aemma assured him.

If he rose against her, she would have to kill him. She doesn’t want that, but life loves making her do things she doesn’t want.

“A stupid thing to ask, I know its not in you to kill him. It is what makes you the woman I love.” Aemond took her hand and kissed it as if apologizing for doubting her. Perhaps he had doubted her and doubts her still.

“It’s finally over.” Aemma whispers when Aegon’s litter comes through the gates and comes to the Holdfast.

Aegon asks his new Kingsguard, Ser Alfred Broome, for wine, and the man hands him the wine skin halfway through.

Helaena had ridden with him to make it look less emasculating for him and cared for Aenys as his Godsmother.

It is her screams that have them stopping just at the serpentine steps and having the guards pull back the curtains as King Aegon chokes on his wine.

His face turns purple as he tries to scream and Helaena screams murderer at the knight who gave him the wine.

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

Jena.

Jena had killed her husband with the Yi-Tish poison called the Strangler. Most had assumed he choked on the truffle he had just eaten, but the poison had been dissolved into his wine by Jena herself.

Just as it had been with Aegon.

Aegon the Usurper was twenty-two years old when he was murdered on the day of his only child’s anointing.

When Corlys saw the body, he saw the toddler he once bounced on his knee. Kinslayer, Rhaenys' voice hissed in his ears.

The keep is put on lockdown by Borros Baratheon while he thinks he is in control.

“Find the queen, make sure her guards do not let her leave her rooms.” Baratheon takes up the mantle of Hand and Regent the second Aegon’s body is sent to the Silent Sisters and Helaena is taken by her husband and Teora to the Holdfast.

The poor girl had witnessed her brother die and all she could do was rightfully accuse his council of kingslaying. The Dreamer was right, and as much as it pained the Seasnake to call her sanity into question, it had to be done.

He will apologize later, when the war is over and all of them can go home.

Aemma had been spotted by the window and Borros had sired five children therefore he knew the rule of 49 days never changed even if there had been complications.

Aemma is the most obvious suspect, something easy to disprove when they find evidence that Broome was paid by Daemon to kill him. Daemon would take the blame as they had agreed and in exchange he’d get his children, Joanna Westerling as a wife and a chance to die in battle reclaiming the Stepstones.

“You waste your time, my lord.” Aemma comes in armor with Aemond at her heels. Aemond wears chain under his court clothes and his sword at his hip.

Neither make their case any easier.

“Has his murderer been questioned?” the One-Eye asks reminding Baratheon he was the man in charge here.

He had ruled for most of Aegon’s reign, and now he would rule beside his widow.

A second Hand of sorts, Aemma had called it. He will wage battle and do all the things I can’t, and I will be the Queen of the Realm.

“Broome was taken to the Black Cells, Lord Larys has seen fit to be the one to extract the truth from it.” Corlys answered and saw his wife’s kinsman narrow his eyes in suspicion. He suspected something was afoot, only he believed the real culprit was a girl who struggled to kill spiders and the boy who liked stories from the Stepstones.

“Good. The sooner this is taken care of, the sooner this nightmare ends.” Aemma ignores the suspicion in Borros’ eyes. “Thank you for securing the keep, Lord Baratheon, we will take it from here.”

“This is no place for a lady, your grace.” Baratheon tries to regain control as it becomes obvious that he is outnumbered here. “Retire to your rooms with your babe, your safety is paramount.”

“That is what Prince Aemond and Ser Steffon are here for, my lord. Now, if you will excuse us we have a war to end.” Aemma wastes no time and has him taken to his rooms for safekeeping. “Order a guard and ready horses for you and the men, I will take Silverwing and a peace banner to the parley.”

It feels surreal, his brother is dead, his sister has gone mad and yet here he is checking the straps are secured correctly on the saddle as if it were an ordinary afternoon.

“I can give you a lift if you wish it.” Aemma suggested as she climbed on the back of her dragon after summoning her from the roof to the courtyard.

People do not scatter as before; they have grown used to the dragon deciding to hang out on the courtyard or the godswood. Aemond no longer kept his distance either, most dragons do not like other humans save for children or spouses of the rider. Silver never accepted Aegon nor any attempt by Sunfrye to coil with her but took to Aemond as if he were Aemma and changed sex to sire silver eggs onto Vhagar.

Had people paid attention to the habits of their creatures, they would’ve seen their affair clearly written in it.

“Tempting, but no. I will ride my horse and carry your standard, so our dear uncle knows I am on your side come what may.” He shook his head as he helped her into the saddle. It had been so long since he’d done this, felt like a lifetime ago.

Aemond had been hesitant to say goodbye then as he was now.

And just like then he cannot bid her farewell so instead he says, “I love you.”

“You say it as if you’d never see me again, Aemond.” Aemma gave a sad smile and amended her words. “I love you too, now hurry up, the sooner we end the war the sooner you can grieve for your brother.”

Oh grief, something he’s not been good at. Not because it got ugly, mainly because he was not prone to much emotion.

He’s never wept for a dead loved one, not even mother when she was murdered. He paced and felt anger over his lack of emotion at her wake, but Aemond could never grieve like other did.

He feels sad over his brother’s passing, hates that he is dead and knows he will miss him. He just knows he will not cry over him like Helaena does now and knows people will chalk it up to him being heartless.

Aemond is not looking forward to that.

“Godspeed, my queen.” He says and she commands her dragon to fly out of their cage.

#aemma velaryon #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #ocappreciationtag #asoiaf fanfic #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #all is bliss(in the court of aemma the great) fic #all is bliss (in the court of aemma the great) #hotd #all is bliss fic

[beardedmrbean]

labama woman Carlee Russell will not face jail time after she pleaded guilty Thursday to falsely reporting her kidnapping last summer, multiple outlets reported.

Russell initially vanished on July 13 after calling police about a toddler on the side of the highway but returned home two days later. Later that month, she admitted through her attorney that she had fabricated the story.

Russell was charged with two misdemeanors: falsely reporting to law enforcement and falsely reporting an incident. She was trying to appeal a conviction in a state trial but instead headed to a plea trial Thursday.

Appearing before the judge Thursday, she blindly plead guilty with no deal in place, AL.com reported.

“I made a grave mistake while trying to fight through various emotional issues and stress,” Russell told the judge, as AL.com reported. "I absolutely regret my decision and in hindsight wish I had cried for help in a totally different manner. My prayer is that I will be extended grace and be given the opportunity to redeem who I truly am and restore the positively esteemed character that I have worked so hard to obtain for the 25 years of my life prior to this incident."

She must pay nearly $18,000 in restitution and receive mental health counseling, but her six-month jail time sentence was suspended, according to AL.com.

The judge presiding over the case or Russell's attorney Emory Anthony did not immediately respond to USA TODAY's request for information. 

Carlee Russell timeline: Everything that happened from her disappearance to admitting it was hoax

Carlee Russell kidnapping hoax

Russell initially went "missing" on July 13 after calling police from a Birmingham suburb to report “a male toddler in a diaper” on the side of Interstate 459 South, as previously reported by USA TODAY. She told the operator she was "stopping to check on him,” and then called a family friend to inform them of the situation.

The family friend heard her scream during the call and then lost contact with Russell. The Hoover Police Department arrived on the scene roughly five minutes later to find Russell's wig, cellphone and purse with an Apple Watch inside on the roadway near her empty vehicle. There was no sign of Russell or a child.

Police quickly launched a search for the woman, with local, state and federal authorities getting involved. The case drew national attention as people across the country kept up with news of the search.

Carlee Russell returns home, admits she wasn't kidnapped

Russell returned home on July 15 and allegedly "gave detectives her statement so that they can continue to pursue her abductor," Talitha Russell, Carlee's mother, told TODAY on July 18. Carlee's mother and father told reporters that their daughter had indeed been abducted and that the perpetrator was still at large.

Police continued to investigate until July 24, when police read a statement from Russell's lawyer at a news conference, confirming that Russell had never actually been missing. The statement said she acted alone in pulling off the deceit. She apologized to the community, searchers, police and her family for her "mistake."

"The sad thing is ... there were so many people that were involved ... took this thing very seriously," the statement read. "It is what it is."

Neither Russell nor her attorney have provided a public explanation for why she faked the abduction.

#nunyas news #sigh #part of the sentence should be #no social media presence #for at least a year

[sweet-s0rr0w]

Question. My fic Kept in Cages contains a scene where a toddler gets (briefly, minorly) injured. Harry, who doesn't have kids, brushes it off and is surprised when R&H (whose kid it is) get angry. I regularly get impassioned comments both here and on AO3 from parents who are annoyed with Harry. I've even had responses to them from other commenters saying 'oh come on, it's not that bad!' I mean, I've written dub-con, age gap, addiction, deceit - yet this is apparently by FAR the most controversial topic I've ever touched on, and I had not even a tiny clue when I wrote it.

So my writer/artist question is, out of interest, what have you written (or drawn) which you thought was completely innocuous/mild, but which ended up bizarrely provoking debate or anger?

Expecting that @vukovich will have a good answer to this, also tagging @lqtraintracks, @skeptiquewrites, @onbeinganangel, @tackytigerfic, @phd-mama, @oknowkiss, @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm and also please anyone else with a story!!!!

#just musing #out of interest #feel free to ignore me!

[lyutenw]

(Revamped) WIP Intro

Genre: Mature High Sci-fi/ Fantasy

TWs: Sexual themes, violence, mature language

Rating: 18+

Themes: Apocalyptic world, neo-futuristic city, betrayal, murderers, war, survival, clash between love and what one needs to do, disappearances, slavery, government deceit, test subjects, family love

Synopsis:

After the war between the US, Russia and China, the world is left in shambles. To survive in the harsh nuclear winter, years after the initial nuclear bombing, most of the survivors in the world have gathered in the city of Elpis, the only place they can survive. Elpis is home to everyone who can afford it, with limited places to work to make a living. With a population of 10,000 crammed into tiny apartments one next to the other, it is difficult to live a life of peace. The Big 10, the official government of Elpis, is in control of everything and everyone, keeping them inside the city and away from the radioactive wastelands. Mei Xiang, a 24 year old mailer and club hostess has no one other than the 3 toddlers she adopted and is living with and her missing twin brother. Working almost all day to be able to feed them and at the same time search for clues on her brother's disappearance has taken a toll on her, until the information of a mysterious letter she is supposed to deliver falls into her hands. The Grey Hound is an urban legend. Wherever he goes, people go missing, and he is rumoured to be practically immortal. People say he has killed those that stand in his way with a single swing of his arm, and he is feared whenever he appears in Elpis. No one knows where he comes from, but some say he is seen coming in and out of the wastelands. The world of Elpis is cruel and always watching. The two of them will soon clash, and the many secrets hidden in the purple and blue shadows of the city will be uncovered, whether that be with light or a blazing fire.

AN: I really enjoy this concept more for UNITT 137 than the previous one. The MCs are younger, with more interesting backgrounds and a fuller plot. The main points of UNITT 137's previous plot are kept along with the twists and turns, but now the universe of it is more fleshed out. This revamped version is mature, compared to the previous one, and a lot more ruthless for the MCs.

If you want to be in the tag list, please comment!

I will not yet upload any chapters as I haven't written much yet, so look forward to it after about a month! You are free to send asks about it, and opinions about it, and also try to guess the big twist of its universe, though I know it will be difficult without any chapters and only the character aesthetics ;)

#writeblr #authors #book blog #writer #asks #booklr #my wip #unitt137 wip #unitt137 #work in progress #wip #creative writing #writing #writers on tumblr

[unohanabbygirl]

Can I just say that I’ve loved the way you’ve characterized/conceptualized Daeron in your asks? He seems like such a sweet and good man who is almost like Luke’s soulmate in a way (a feeling not built upon abo compatibility but actually liking each other). Helping Luke heal by not inserting/forcing himself as a mate/husband like Aemond does, but by respecting him because his faith deems it so. (Which btw it’s so fascinating that Alicent uses the faith as a weapon of oppression while Daeron actually believes in it.) It makes me want to see Luke end up with Daeron in all your fics. What would an FMN Daeron look like and would Aemond even have a chance with Daeron in the picture? I would find it interesting if Daeron couldn’t forgive himself or the greens for the war and so he was mostly separate from the family and their somewhat toxic behavior with Luke. I also imagine that he wouldn’t imitate any sexual act with Luke because unlike Aemond he actually knows and believes that r*pe by deception is actually SA. I also would imagine that Daeron’s and Luke’s relationship would TOTALLY make Aemond undo all the work he’s done on himself.

Daeron is the best boy fr. I think what really draws me to him is the fact that out of all the Targtower kids he’s the one who’s least close in their problem-filled tight knit family that dosen’t know how to properly show love. In this big fight of blacks vs greens he honors his family by siding with them only because of familial loyalty and not much more since unlike the majority of these people he doesn’t have a real dog in their fight. Rhaenyra never seemingly betrayed their friendship or disliked him as a child, Luke didn’t take his eye, and Viserys never ignored him because he wasn’t there to be ignored. He’s a good kid that holds no personal grudges against anyone. He only wants to honor his family even though they only know each other through monthly letters.

Growing up at oldtown really made Daeron the person he is. Over there the faith wasn’t something to be used as a means of feeling righteous or holier than thou but a true set of believes meant to be followed and never disgraced for your own personal gain. Was raised by those who taught that kindness is meant to come from the good of your heart and respect for the virtues of their faith whereas Otto taught Alicent to weaponize it and so her first three children learned the same.

Daeron being in FMN would def lead to an actual love triangle where Aemond highkey doesn’t truly stand a chance lmao. He’s that one person who doesn’t impose his presence on Luke whatsoever and instead waits to be approached rather than do the approaching. He’s all around chill and doesn’t ask questions that go deeper than “what do you wanna watch?” or “Pizza sound good?”

Daeron isn’t caught up in the crusade to get Lucerys back because he’d only met the guy once and he doesn’t even remember it because they were toddlers at the time or so he was told. He doesn’t care to win Luke’s heart or friendship but just, well…vibe. And if Luke wants to do so alongside him then great, if he doesn’t that’s great too. And beginning to feel the slowly building sparks between them over the following months leads him to confront it outright rather than leaving everything up in the air because Daeron knows communication is key. Sitting Luke down and going “I like what this is and you like it too, but I don’t want anything too serious right now. If you need to find something physical with others then I’m all for that, there’s no rush for us to be serious.”

Waiting for Luke is easy if it means when they finally get together there’s no lingering past deceit. Just two people who like-like each other. Very casual yet still loving. Luke thrives in it, most are happy for them, and Aemond is a very depressed boy.

#asks

[ask-court-genshin]

Their last conversation was unproductive, just like the last. Kopi is a nice “person”. They are always willing to help him “remember” in every step of the way– holding his hand like a toddler.

Lawrence appreciates their love.

But they don't seem real.

And he's scared.

“I know who you pretend I am."

"Oh? You do?" ████ tilted their head. "Okay."

...

"That's it? Just okay?"

"Does it matter?" ████ replied. "We're happy, aren't we?"

They cupped his cheek.

The Knight commingles with cowardice and his spouse most “beloved”'s deceitful guidance.

For Celestia, this are a few of their blinded lights. Casted out, for not even the Abyss shall receive them—

Rest be thy pure white-furred sheeps that wander the stars, for the devil walks amongst them.

And the four eyed monster with scars for eyes and blood for laces whisper the sweetest of choirs.

"You're happy– I'm happy. Does anything else matter?"

#» first ebg #» water forgets so easily

[master-k0hga]

| K A R M E N |

[ Category: The Promised Land ]

| So while her mother is busy trying to fit into the world of the Promised Land, because I can never find a way to make my OCs work out the way I intend for them; Here's Karmen in her new purpose!.... And also actually has a place that fits well; Of course she is Caligo and Asim's daughter, and is in fact a mix of the two's origins. While having some of her father's Fae attributes, while having mostly of her mother's Witch blood... Although whether or not she's more powerful than her traumatised mama.. That's a question for another time!

.. Anyways, cuz I have now made it a tradition, I draw Karmen in her refs always at her 17 years old glory, cuz kids and babies are hard to draw- Also cuz that's when her badassery begins lol..

Name: Karmen

Height: 5ft "2"

Species: Nocturnal Elf / However by the family tribe she is officially considered "Fae" despite physical evidence of her born as mixed race

Extra:

She grows up and becomes a mechanic at the age of 17, she started becoming invested in technology and such when she was 3; Overtime is became a passion, hence why she is capable of making small contraptions out of scraps. Her biggest project (which takes her to the age of 25, roughly an 8 year time span) when she randomly comes across a long abandoned assassin bot who appeared to have been built by the Deceitful before being discarded

She's very much a daddy's girl since Asim has spoiled her silly when she was young, although not blaming her mother for being the one who is on edge however; Karmen would always protect her mother, even when she was just a toddler. Her parents (Asim mostly) would tell her the sad stories and upbringing especially of Caligo, hence why she became protective of her mother figure at such a young age

She was given a spear by the tribe elder when she was 10, a special heirloom that was passed down from the "Sights of the Future" tribe; Although Asim decided to personally smith twin swords for her in hopes she'd pick up on his fighting style so to train her well, Karmen genuinely isn't a fan of dual wielding blades. Watching her be so natural with the spear however, inspires Caligo to try spear training themselves

Since the tribe mostly consists of travellers who had left their "nest" to search for other places of safety away from threats, Karmen always finds a way to "surf" down slopes whether rocky, snowy, sandy and whatnot; ... So she constructed herself a shield that can swiftly slide on almost any terrain. It's rumoured that she used her witch abilities she got from her mother to make it "magical", however Asim jokingly likes to claim it's the magic of the Fae

She can be an awkward and clumsy mess, she's prone to having tantrums like her mother, however since Caligo is technically still young in a sense, Karmen is more of a saint when it comes to them. Mother can act out BADLY, not their intentions however

Calls the tribe elder "grampi" since Asim practically refers to him as "grandfather", so she's kind of picked up on that too but more childish

She trains herself so she can eventually take over the tribe from her father one day, however since it's still Asim's turn next to replace the elder once they leave the world of living, she'll have to wait some more.. Which isn't much of a problem for her, she's a very patient person surprisingly

Hearing Caligo speak of their older sister sometimes, Karmen during moments where she's not being supervised has tried on a few occasions to look out for her (Katsumi), however hearing rumours of a "bounty hunter" appearing more frequently within recent activity, she's nervous.. Yet she has some theories on who that could be

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

I believe that's all I have for her new purpose for now, I need to really re-sort Caligo and Katsumi's re-purposing as well but for some reason I am really struggling on trying to fit them into this weird puzzle as is so they might not be shown off or be appearing anytime soon yet til I find something that could eventually work out

Also I've just noticed, since I tend to colour scheme a lot of my posts...

WHERE THE FUCK IS YELLOW?! THEY GOT RID OF THE COLOUR YELLOW!! WHY!?!? THAT WAS A NICE YELLOW TUMBLR WHY'D YOU GET RID OF IT!?!?!?!

That sucks balls!!.... But at least I can copy-paste the text even the colour font on other posts, it just sucks now cuz now I won't actually be able to use it for future characters refs!... And I still have yellow-mainly themed OCs that I've still yet to re-design... This sucks now it's even more limited than what it was.. Especially with this AI bullshit scandal they too decided to jump on the waste of time bandwagon for...

fuck the Internet it's just a scummy cesspool of bullshit, lies, hate and corrupted companies and rich shits ruining the lives of every day working class....

Fuck you!!

... Anyways- Yeah I have name for the tribe now, "Sights of the Future", although very much blind to what the future will bring... They look onwards and either embrace or adapt to whatever happens to them... And I will NOT be doing the same! I look onward to the future and all I see is black, humans are devolving, they have adapted only so far and now they are moving backwards like the cesspool of lies and deceit they are..

. Karmen, Art © Me . DON’T RE-POST .

#MASTER-K0HGA #Ary / Kohga Chronicles #Ary / Kohga OCs and Works #Karmen #Female #Fae #Nocturnal Elf #Fae / Nocturnal Elf mix #also technically mixed race #The Promised Land #Sights of the Future #Fandomless #My OCs #My Characters #My Art #Re-post #My art re-posted #Original Character #OC #.... #But yeah that's it I think... dskjhfdjhjkhfd Don't rly have much else to say atm tbh?? #Karmen is no longer Kohga's and Sooga's kid for the Kohga Arc AU anymore... Instead she is Caligo's and Asim's now... #Trying to make a new purpose is rly fucking hard and Idk how people can do all this and have it neatly be put in the right places #But I'm gonna need to step up my game if I want to flesh out my OCs and improve on them further with what I've got.. #And no I won't use any fcking machine learning or AI to ''help me''.. It'll only make me half ass my shit and I'm. NOT. FUCKING. DOING. THA #I DO THIS BECAUSE I NEED THIS. I NEED TO PUT EFFORT. I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE #THIS IS ALL I FCKING HAVE. YOU DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO ONLY HAVE YOUR FICITIONAL WORLDS. YOUR CHARACTERS #TO HELP YOU PUSH THROUGH WHEN EVERYTHING ELSE HAS FAILED YOU. AI GENERATED IMAGERY WILL ONLY #TAKE THAT WORLD AWAY FROM ME. FROM WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO FCKING WORK ON FOR ALMOST 10. FUCKING. YEARS!! #IT WILL SOLVE JACK. FCKING. SHIT FOR ME. I DON'T WANT IT. I DON'T NEED IT. IT DOESN'T BENEFIT ME WHATSOEVER

[summerendroll]

this orochimaru wannabe is like “this is a deceitful weapon of mass destruction” sir this is a toddler (LOOKING AWAY FROM THE END OF THE CHAPTER BECAUSE IM MILDLY DISTURBED BY HER TRANSFORMING INTO AN ADULT WOMAN AND DONT KNOW WHAT TO MAKE OF IT YET)