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jtrokujo · 3 years

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂¿

paring: Mikaela Hyakuya x fem!Reader

(they’re 18+!!!)

word count: 4k

warning: this story contains sexual content

gerne: smut

summary: there are days when they get along well but there were also days when they hated each other like the plague and even though they love each other?

—

The weather is neutral, but I wish it got better.

The sun is obscured by the gray clouds, but it's not windy or anything.

You could even go out with a top.

However, y / n decided to take a seat in the four walls with a number of different books and a tall pile of books right next to them.

As she gently leafed through the pages of the somewhat older book, she felt a stab.

Of course it didn't hurt since no one was attacking her, but it felt like someone was watching her.

Without presenting her feelings, she took some books and put the rest where she got them.

Immediately after leaving the library, she stopped in the middle of the path and said with an annoyed sigh, "Bathory, I know you're here."

He stands grinning in front of y / n, but could hardly show a disappointed face.

With his head tilted to one side, he looked at his prey and smiled at her immediately. "I prefer you to call me by my first name, dear."

“I do what I want and not what you want, Bathory. Besides, I have better things to do than waste my precious time being influenced by you. "

When they told the vampire, she continued on her way, or at least intended to.

As quickly as he came, he grabbed her arm just as quickly. "But y / n, why is it in such a hurry?" asked the vampire, amused, pressing more and more on hers with every second, so slowly you could hear her bones. Y / n had to react immediately!

Without thinking for a second, she dropped all of the books on the white floor and immediately grabbed her gun. "You should let go of me!" y / n's voice rang out down the hall and immediately shot the vampire in the arm.

His blood spurted around her.

Y / n got his blood on her face as well as on her clothes - it was the same with Bathory, also the wall and especially the floor got his blood.

"Disgusting." mumbled y / n and wiped the blood on her face, although she knew herself that it would be of no use.

"What's going on here?" Everyone but not him.

"Hello Mika!" said Ferid with delight and turned to get a better look at him.

"Have you lost your nerve again?" he asked me annoyed, but he only looked at me for a few seconds and immediately saw Ferid's blood spatter.

"What do you mean 'again'?"

Even if we've known each other for a long time, we both have to admit that one and the other have diverged. Sometimes it was his fault, sometimes it was me. There were of course moments when we got along really well, but in the end they weren't enough in my opinion.

"Since you've lived with us, at least one vampire must have got something from your weapon."

Said the blond-haired vampire while his eyes stared at me.

I'm not understating when I say that his eyes alone make me feel naked.

Mika only manages to control me through his eyes, even though I should be the one who should control every vampire or the various books I spend most of my time on just one more bad joke.

It was enough for vampires to exist and more than hundreds of people took their own lives just to be able to enjoy themselves. To this day I cannot forgive any of the vampires for what they did to me or those around me. I know myself that there are bad ones, but what is their goal?

Or do you have a goal?

"Y / n." I heard his voice.

Awakened from my trance, I see his eyes again. However, they do not have this previous aura, no, they are a little stricter this time. When I gave him a sign of his attention, the lecture immediately came, "You are old enough to know how to behave and with whom to behave. If you show this behavior to someone else, I'll let that person do it . " and do what they want, because I haven't had the nerve for someone like you for a long time. So finally know your limits before I use my weapon against you! "

Impressive. From sentence to sentence his voice grew louder and louder. Seriously, I never expected or even had the idea of this side of Mika in my life, but here it is. Wonderful y / n, now you have managed to sink deeply with Mika, which is actually the very last thing I ever wanted to achieve in my life, but life has never been a paradise.

With a chuckle, Bathory put his arm and my shoulders and spoke to Mika.

"But, but Mika shouldn't be so strict with her. She's just a little girl again, not even now, is she?" "If I were that little girl, you would surely have two arms instead of one." After saying my sentence, I picked up the books that were still on the floor and didn't say goodbye to anyone, why should I?

Bathory is nothing more than an idiot who uses his satisfaction to see others suffer rather than provoke them too.

While Mika nudges both children like a father, although the other is to blame for everything.

When I got to my room, I put the books on my table and sat on my bed, thinking about the old days. However, I don't think of the days with loved ones that I lost, but of those that I spent with Mika before he gave me a “better life”.

I could leave it all behind at any time and either not start an old or a new life, but I love to have him in my heart for it.

Sighing at my thoughts, I give up and stood in front of my closet for the next minute.

While the lukewarm water felt the white bathtub, my clothes landed on the floor.

This life is more of a calling expected of others than a life of its own. A break does no harm to anyone.

I said to myself and after a few seconds I closed my eyes.

After my bath or a break from the real world, I'm just choosing which book to read.

As I was about to start the new book, someone knocked on my door.

Hesitantly, I said the door was open and waited for the person behind it to appear. Please leave it all but Bathory.

Sighing, I immediately put my hand on my left breast and saw him, Mika.

To be honest, I'm happy to see him, but I'm not, but I don't need an explanation. "Good evening." he said in his usual tone. Without making a big head out of it, I repeated it myself, but added if he needed anything from me.

Shivering, I answered my question in the negative and came up to me with slow steps.

The only thing I could do was do nothing. I stopped. When our faces are a few centimeters away, his arm came slowly towards my body, until he reached for something, when he had this in his hand, he came back with a few steps and immediately held a book in my face.

"I really recommend it, I have to say, you have pretty good taste when it comes to books. I've read it several times because these stories, the writing style, the plot and most of all the characters are up to me." uniquely well written down to the smallest detail. "

I looked at the vampire in amazement. "You read that too?" "Y / n, if I hadn't read it, I wouldn't have a clue either."

A little ashamed of my oh-so-intelligent question, I also looked at the floor.

The whole time there was nothing to be heard, neither a little intoxication, nor even breathing. But after a few seconds, Mika also broke the embarrassing silence by taking a few steps and holding out his arm to me. I don't understand it about myself. When Mika is around, I either act annoyed or neutral. However, countless butterflies gather in my stomach when I think of him alone!

"Y / n ... y / n?!" Mika looked up, gave me a neutral look and at the same time held a few strands of my hair and asked me if he should tie my hair up with a towel. I gently took the wet strands of hair from his hand and began to giggle at my discomfort and nervousness. The thought of me being weird was always out of the question.

"I think I'll blow dry my hair. I'll see you at dinner or tomorrow."

"I'll see you at dinner or tomorrow." repeated Mika before she disappeared from my room.

Locked in the room and caught in his deepest thoughts, he stared over the ceiling.

The reviews of that day haunted him to this day when he also dreamed them.

Sleeping now wouldn't be for him, even though it is shortly before 2 o'clock.

But what can you do about it?

The vampire rose from the bed, stretched out, and decided to go for a walk immediately.

As he walked through the empty corridors, he always hoped not to meet anyone.

Whatever stays that way.

Bored and hands in his pockets, the floor caught his attention. It didn't take long, however, because he was amazed to get up when he saw the light coming from someone's room.

He was more than sure whose room, or rather chamber, it was.

It was Y / n's.

He stopped in front of it, thinking, held out his hand and wanted to knock on the door. At the same time he quickly put his hand in his pocket. This scenario takes about 3 minutes. But it wasn't the vampire's nervousness that was unusual, no, why should he be at y / n's door? This is funny.

Doesn't he often seem annoyed or stern in your presence?

Well, he doesn't even know what's going on in his head.

After an eternity, the vampire finally knocked on the human's door and immediately heard "Come in" from the other side.

Without telling himself twice, he opened the door and saw her. He saw her spread out on the large bed with several notes and books.

Stressed out. You can't see it from the outside, but even Mika can confess that he thinks it is strange to see y / n at this time.

"Do you need something?" she asked him and fixed him with her gaze.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping long ago?" he asked and at the same time crossed his arms over his chest.

"Mika, I could ask you that too, don't you think?" sigh y / n and slowly start piling up her notes and books together.

When Mika offered her help, she politely declined and slowly and carefully put the things on her desk.

"If you have nothing special to do, you can always keep me company, you know?"

Yes, even if there is an argument between the two, they still get along well. However, they don't seem to be as close as they used to be. Without saying anything, Mika accepted the offer and sat next to y / n.

Was that really wise?

The smell of y / n gets over his head, but he's not as easy to lose control as other vampires.

Breathing hard, Mika rubbed her eyes and hoped that this unbearable smell would go away any moment.

Easier said than done.

If only I had drunk blood in the last few days. The vampire cursed.

Y / n noticed his unusual behavior and tried to communicate with him, but to no avail. She called his name several times, tapped him on the shoulder, and shook him a little. He seems trapped in his own world. For the first time she seemed to see someone so trapped in his own world. When will he regain his senses?

Annoyed, she hit his skull with her fist, which led to a groan of pain from Mika's mouth. "What does this mean?!"

“If you are tired, please go to your room and sleep there.

Both rolled their eyes in annoyance.

"You have nothing to say to me, human."

"Oh really? What are you going to do about it, vampire?" It wasn't a mistake by y / n, but rather Mika's mistake. If he hadn't called her a human, she wouldn't have called him a vampire. Nobody except Mika knows right now how much he hates vampires and yet he is one himself, but you have to remember that he never wanted to be one. Not everyone is lucky in life.

As I said, even if it was his own fault that she reminded him, he completely lost his nerve. Slowly she approached y / n, she already felt the dark aura coming towards her. However, y / n did not want to show the fear that is in her and slowly rising above her head. She will regret it. "Repeat when you have the pity." "What is the problem? You called me human and I called you a vampire, but you know what makes me be silly, get out of here, vampire. ”Without further ulterior motives, Mika grabbed her wrist and squeezed the bones with her hand listened from print to print. When she wanted to reach for her gun, which is under her top, Mika was a second faster and threw it directly to the end of the room. When Mika immediately released his hand from Y / n's wrist, she saw an emotion in his eyes, sadness.

He was hurt, but shouldn't he care? What should a little person who plays with little guns do against a vampire, ask him about a game? However, he saw her more as a person, he saw her as someone he can love, with whom he can laugh, of course he had had these people before in his life, but they have long since disappeared. Oh how much he loves her.

If only she knew how many letters he wrote her, but never gave them to her, but hid them in his room.

"I'm really stupid." Mika muttered trembling to herself. Y / n heard it and slowly walked up to him "Mika, that was very childish of me and, to be honest, I'm sorry." When she tried to touch his shoulder, he knocked her away and looked into her eyes, it was their fault.

“I don't want your decisions! I never wanted to be a vampire! If you don't know anything about me, please be quiet and think twice before you open your door! ”The whole room went quiet, pretty quiet. It was rather uncomfortably quiet for y / n, but she preferred to keep her mouth shut because it looked like Mika was looking for the right words. "Why do I love you? Tell me Y / N, how can I love you when you hate me so much?" His voice was fragile and it was tormented to hear it that way. "Mika, I had never hated you before." Exhausted, Mika sat down on the floor and looked at the gun at the other end of the room. "Every time I see a gun like that, I hate myself even more." “Even if it sounds a bit clichéd, for example because of the current situation, I have to and want to admit that I love you Mika. You are in such pain and apparently you have torn old wounds. You didn't deserve that, nobody deserved that. ”Y / n sat like Mika on the floor and hugged him. Her warm body against his cold one. As if in slow motion, their faces stood a few inches apart until their lips met.

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏

With my hands on the back of his neck and my tongue seeking his, his fingertips dance from my thigh under my top.

Only he managed to make me shiver everywhere in a few seconds with the help of his touch. Not through his ice-cold skin, no, only through him. In keeping with the mood, the cold raindrops hit my window pane. "Waiting." he whispered to me.

Not a second later it was pitch black in my room. The butterflies in my stomach just like Mika don't know when to stop, but I love it, never let it stop! His lips kissed every inch of my skin and whispered to me how divine my body was. His hands slide up my top until it finally brushes over my head. The first item of clothing is already on the floor. My legs were around his waist so he could pick me up and lay me on my bed. When he did that, his lips were still on my skin.

As I lay down comfortably, I watched his clothes land piece by piece on the floor. His belly is built like that of a Greek god and although it is dark the moon shines on him. One could have immediately thought it was a godsend. The boxer shorts were the only items of clothing that remained. While I was about to take off my pants, Mika took my hands and indicated that he could do it himself. When my pants peeled off my skin, he looked at my legs in admiration and immediately threw my pants on the floor. Now stand half-naked in front of my bed. The red cheeks on his cheeks were clearly visible. "Are we really supposed to pull this off?" I asked Mika and looked him in the eye. His lips approached my ear and he breathed softly, "Y / n, the question is not, we should, but we can. A human and a vampire, is that a good chemistry?"

"Why don't we want to find out?" I whispered and kissed his shoulder in time. Now he looked at me again, but with clearly red cheeks you could have thought he had a fever, but I can't blame him, because even when his ice-cold body is on top of mine, my body manages to have a hot temperature.

As our tongues played with each other again, our hands explored each other's bodies. While one hand pinches my buttocks, the other is right on my bra clasp.

Moaning slightly, I also pinched his buttocks and felt my muscles tense. A low gasp left his delicate lips, which made me even weaker. My temperature rises more and more with each of his touches.

I can not stand it anymore!

He knows very well that he has the upper hand!

When my bra, like the rest of the clothes, landed on the floor, his ice-cold hands brushed my arms up to my hips and brushed the last piece of clothing across the floor.

I was breathing hard down in my zone.

His hands were on each thigh so I couldn't pinch my legs together. Apart from the horniness, I could hardly move my legs because of his strength, you can not say that he is so strong. The horniness in me is going like crazy! With every breath Mika takes against my area, the butterflies in my stomach fly crazier.

When his tongue brushed my cervix for less than a second, I let out a gasp. Immediately afterwards he pressed his tongue against it and danced with it at the same time. That I'm getting wetter is not only clear to me, but also to Mika, when he was his tongue in my entrance, she explored every single inch inside.

Overwhelmed by shame and lust, I pressed one hand against my mouth so as not to make a noise from you, and the other on his white-blonde hair.

Every time his tongue penetrated deeper and he spread my thighs wider and wider, it honestly hurt, but I don't care about that at the moment because as good as he makes me feel no one is going to do it and I want it too nobody does it because I just want them. Because I just want Mika.

When I thought it couldn't get better, I was wrong. When he started sucking, I was done. My lustful moans got louder every time I sucked, but I do my best that nobody but Mika can hear it. When he freed his tongue from the entrance again, he stuck his middle and ring finger in the next second and didn't give me a second to get used to it. The speed of his fingers is unique!

No matter how much I press my hand against my mouth, my moans stay louder.

Several times his name groaned, which only drove him to increase the speed. My orgasm is nourishing. When I groaned and said I was about to be there, he didn't stop but continued. His tongue dances on my cervix and his fingers successfully hit the G-spot every time, it's just breathtaking!

When my orgasm came, I screamed his name with relish and breathed heavily as I stared at the ceiling.

His beautiful face approached mine, but he devoted his lips to my ears and whispered, "A second round won't hurt you." Aren't my trembling legs enough for him? In the middle of the kiss, I slowly felt his member inside me, but my nails clawed behind his back in pain, we continued the kiss. Now it was Mika who groaned in the middle of the kiss. He closed his eyes and kissed my chest as his hips began to dance. Is it still normal for him to make me feel this way? Because on the one hand I can no longer, on the other hand I want more! Mika's one hand is on my thigh while the other is on my chest. The way he plays sensitive nipples is superb.

I don't know how he makes me feel so good, but I want him to never stop. "Mika, don't stop." I moaned in his ear and wrapped my legs around his waist. When he saw me, I didn't know how to feel. Because his eyes are blood red! He slowly approached my neck. That cold breath worried me even more. He didn't bite me, however, but instead scratched his designated spot with his fangs as the blood flowed from the wound, so it propelled him and made him much faster than before. The clap of our skin was just as loud as the satisfying moans from our mouths. "Y / n." he groaned my name and immediately turned me around. Now my back was visible to him. With both hands on our hips, our bodies clapped together. When I moaned his name one last time, the orgasm came, Mika pulled his member out of me and rubbed it with his hand until finally the white sperm speared out of his body.

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏

After Mika helped me cleanse my body, we are back in bed naked. "Do you think we can do it?" Mika asked out of nowhere. “I don't think so, I know, Mika. And I think you should too. "The vampire looked at me lovingly and finally kissed me on the lips and immediately afterwards whispered" Good night, y / n. " "Good night, Mika."

#mikaela hyakuya #owari no seraph mikaela #owari no seraph #mikaela x reader #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #female #x you #love story #smut #seraph of the end #yuichiro hyakuya #shinoa hiragi #ferid bathory #guren ichinose

608 notes · View notes

lunarbuck · 2 years

Text

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

moodboard is just for vibes, not what reader looks like!

4. Wind

Pairing: Guard!Bucky x Princess!Reader

WC: 3.7k

Sneak Peek: "What they don’t realize is that you can’t be won, you or your heart. You are a complicated, intelligent, and mystifying creature that one must study for years and years. And even once we think we have learned everything about you, you will show us that we know nothing. These boys think that you are some simple girl. They could not be more wrong.”

Warnings/Tags: none that I can think of

series masterlist ☁ / ao3

AN: I am so pumped for this chapter!!! Please let me know what you think :) The next chapter will be out on Thursday so i promise you won't have to wait too long to find out what happens next ;) much love - Jane <3

please let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist!

Chapter 3 / Chapter 5

Sun streams into your room and warms you as you wake. You don’t remember leaving the curtains open last night, but you push the thought from your mind, rolling over to keep sleeping.

“Y/N, you know you can’t do that,” a woman’s voice says from somewhere in the room. You groan and push yourself up to sit. When you finally open your eyes, you see one of the women who work at the castle, Winnifred. She gives you a big smile, and you can’t help but grin at her. Her energy is infectious. Though your paths rarely crossed lately, Winnifred was always there to help you get ready for big events.

“Good morning to you too, Winnie,” you say, sliding off your bed. Winnie is ten years older than you, but you have always considered her more of a sister than anything. She chuckles as she walks into the bathroom to run a bath.

“You’ve got quite the day ahead of you, no time to dawdle.” Winnie is a stickler when it comes to being on time. She meticulously plans everything, and you don't doubt that she has planned for you to wake late.

“What’s on the docket for today,” you ask, stretching somewhat obnoxiously. She shakes her head at you, though the look in her eyes is playful.

“We’re going to get you all cleaned up, get some food in ya, then work on your appearance. You’ve already slept the morning away but--”

“But you planned for it,” you say, finishing her sentence. Winnie grumbles in response, and you make your way into the bathroom. She gives you privacy, and you rid yourself of your sleep clothes. The water is the perfect temperature, and you can smell the lavender oils Winnie added to relax you. She knows you so well. You try not to linger in the bath too long, making sure to quickly clean yourself up before getting out. Winnie is pleased to see that you were considerate of her time as she wraps you in a fluffy robe.

“So, what do you think of the suitors so far?” She asks as she combs through your hair. You try not to roll your eyes at the question, you were already tired of thinking about the men, and it has only been a week.

“They’re all fine men,” you reply. “Though I’m not sure if I can see myself marrying any of them.” Winnie nods; she isn't married. She always says men can't offer her anything she doesn't already have, and you wish you could share her outlook.

“I’m sure you’ll warm up to at least one of them,” she claims, pinning your hair out of your face so it would dry in the way you like, framing your face gently. “Though I’ve heard you’ve taken a bit of a liking to that new guard of yours.” Your cheeks go hot, and you catch Winnie’s eyes in the mirror.

“What?” You mean to ask more, but you can’t get the words out. Winnie smiles and shakes her head, clicking her tongue at you quietly.

“He’s quite the looker if I do say so myself.” You gasp a bit at the confession and giggle. “But Y/N, you’d take care to keep that boy as a friend. He’s here to protect you, not to sweep you off your feet.” Her voice isn’t stern, but you understand that she’s trying to warn you from going too far.

“I understand, Winnie. He’s just a friend.” She nods and finishes fussing with your hair. You sit at the small table beside your window while Winnie fetches your lunch. You pick up the book you left there and begin to read, warming your skin in the sun. It is a habit of yours to leave books scattered around the castle. You always want one nearby. The one you have left on the table is The Hobbit but J.R.R. Tolkien. It had been one of your mother’s favorites, so you kept it in your room on that little table to always have a piece of her nearby. You thumb through the pages taking in the way they feel on your skin. Your mother had written her thoughts in the margins, and you run your fingers over the words, wishing you could hear her speak them to you.

“Here you go,” Winnie says, setting a tray down in front of you. You smile up at her and begin to eat. “Now, I have a few options for your gown tonight, and I want you to make a decision now, so we’re not fretting about it later.” You nod, and Winnie shuffles out of the room. When she returns, she is pushing a clothing rack with three garment bags hanging from the rod.

“Winnie, when did you find the time to get these made?” You ask, biting into a particularly large strawberry. She scoffs a bit and unzips the first garment bag. Inside is a long cool-blue gown, skirt poofy from the tulle. The blue is almost grey, icy. The sleeves are sheer with silver detailing that extends down the bodice to the waist where a brown ribbon sat. You gape at the dress. It is gorgeous.

“Your father suggested the color,” she says, hanging the dress on the rack. “I think it would suit your skin tone well.” You could tell Winnie likes the dress, but it is clear this isn't her favorite from her tone.

“It’s beautiful, but let’s see the rest.” She nods and moves on to the next bag. The gown is stunning, a rusty red satin skirt billowing as Winnie hung the dress up. The dress is certainly more traditional than the first, and it reminds you of something your sister would wear. The bodice is plain, but gentle ruffles adorn the cuffs of the sleeves.

“This was your sister’s. I had it altered in the case you wanted to wear something of hers,” Winnie mentions. You reach out a hand and feel the glossy satin, you know the dress would look good, but again you don’t love it. Winnie senses this and moves on to the final dress. You can tell that this one is her favorite by the way she bites her lip to prevent a grin from spreading across her face. You make a show of covering your eyes, wanting to be surprised by the final gown. When she tells you to, you open your eyes, and your breath catches in your chest. It is a pale champagne color with flower details garnishing the off-shoulder straps and bodice. The flowers continue down onto the skirt before becoming more sparse. It is perfect.

“Winnifred,” you whisper, standing to hold the dress. She hands it to you, and you walk with it to your mirror, holding the gown up to yourself. “How?” Winnie stands beside the mirror, watching you as you fiddle with the dress, imagining it on yourself.

“When have I ever disappointed you,” she replies, not quite answering your question. You smile brightly and pull her into a tight hug.

“Never,” you whisper into her hair. She squeezes you a bit tighter before releasing you.

Winnie puts the final touches on your makeup, and you feel like you’re about to combust. You’ve spent the day getting ready for the ball, and here it is, just a few moments away from happening, and you aren't sure if you can handle it. The guests have already begun to arrive, and though they will mingle and drink before your arrival, the real party won't start until you step into that room.

“All right, let’s get you into that dress!” Winnie says, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze to get your attention. You nod and drop your robe as you step into the gown. The bodice is a corset, so Winnie laces it up as gently as she can while fastening it properly. She then arranges the skirt, so the tulle isn’t crinkled. You step into the shoes she picks to go with your dress, and when Winnie decides she can’t fuss over your appearance anymore, you glance at yourself in the mirror. Everything put together is exquisite; the little flower pins Winnie has placed in your hair compliment the flowers on your gown. The corset accentuates your curves, and you find that you don’t particularly mind how much skin you’re showing. It all works, and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. You’re still nervous, but at least you look beautiful.

“You’re a miracle worker,” you say, a laugh upon your lips as you speak. Winnie blushes at your compliment but brushes it off, insisting that it is nothing.

“I didn’t have to do much to make you look good. You’re a natural beauty,” she insists.

“Oh hush,” you scold jokingly. You’re about to speak again when a knock on the door interrupts you.

“Excuse me, princess?" You feel your knees go weak, you have almost forgotten that you still have to go to the ball. "Your father sent me to escort you to the ball.”

“She’s ready,” Winnie replies for you. You shoot her a slight glare, but she just rolls her eyes, opening the door revealing James on the other side. He looks incredible in his all-black three-piece suit. It’s perfectly tailored, and you wet your lips at the sight. James extends an arm to you, and you take it, slipping your fingers around his forearm. He leads you out of the room and toward the staircase.

“You look stunning,” he says as you carefully step down the stairs, trying not to trip.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You’re not sure if it’s the nerves, the heels, or the smell of James’s cologne, but you can’t seem to breathe enough. You try to focus on walking, on just getting down the stairs.

“Princess,” James says, voice filling with concern. “Are you okay?” You huff out a little laugh and shake your head.

“I’m just so nervous,” you admit, sparing a look up at his face. His kind eyes stare back, and you find comfort in them. You make it to the bottom of the staircase, and before you can continue, James turns you to face him. He puts his gloved hands on your shoulders, and goosebumps erupt from your skin.

“What’re you nervous about?” He asks gently, tilting his head to keep your gaze.

“All the people, the suitors, dancing, falling on my face, seeing my father, getting married, my shoe falling off--”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says, pulling you into a hug. You gasp at the contact, and you feel him flinch when you do, but you wrap your arms around his waist. “I’ve got you.” You let him hold you for longer than you probably should, but it feels so good to be surrounded by him. He releases you from the embrace, and you step back a little to create some distance.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, not able to meet his eyes.

“When I get nervous, I try to focus on my breathing. When we go in there, if you get nervous, just know I’m rootin’ for you.” He smiles and places your arm back in its place on his. The two of you continue walking toward the ballroom, the sounds of heels clicking on the floor and music fill the hallway, and you tighten your grip on his arm without realizing it. You arrive at the door, and James gives you a moment to collect yourself.

“We have to do it now,” you say, bouncing a bit on the balls of your feet to try and get your blood flowing. James chuckles and shakes his head. A piece of hair falls from his bun, but he doesn’t move to tuck it back. You like it.

“Let’s do it, princess,” he says as he knocks on the door. Two guards on the other side hear the signal and pull the doors open. The room is full of people dressed in their finest, drinking, laughing, enjoying themselves. When they see the doors open, they all fall quiet, and the group parts down the center, revealing your father on the other side, flanked by your suitors. James takes the first step, and you follow, keeping your eyes focused on your father. As you approach, people bow and the suitors move to stand in front of their chairs. The walk to your father feels like an eternity, but you finally make it. James slips your fingers from his arm and gives you a kind smile before taking his position beside the platform your father’s chair sits on.

“Thank you all for joining me today in celebrating my daughter, Princess Y/N, in her endeavor to be married. These four princes have journeyed from their homes in the hopes of winning her heart and her hand. In following Astrinian tradition, only when the princess has danced with each suitor, may we all join in.” The crowd laughs a bit, though you don’t think what your father has said is funny. They’re doing it to be polite. He continues. “Now, I will introduce each suitor.” As your father says the name of each man in front of you, they approach, bow, and kiss your hand. You don’t focus on the display; your thoughts are on the dance. You will dance with each suitor for a little before the next cuts in. To make things fair, they will approach you in a predetermined random order and will only get a few bars of music before the next man. Your father continues to talk, but his words never make it to your ears. You just stare up at him, silently begging for him to call the whole thing off. He doesn’t hear, and Rumlow approaches you. It’s time to dance.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Rumlow whispers as he walks you to the center of the ballroom. The small ensemble of string players watches for their cue to begin playing.

“Good evening,” you reply, trying not to run away from his hands as they reach out to hold you. He gives the conductor a nod, and the music begins. It’s a waltz, and you try to lose yourself in the music as Rumlow leads the dance. He’s a good dancer, but he’s stiff in his movements as if he’s aware of all the eyes on him. You do your best not to step on his shoes. They’re shiny and freshly polished, and you figure if you scuff them, he’ll never forgive you. As you sway around the room, you start to be able to ignore the eyes of the people as they watch you. The only pair that you can’t seem to shake are from James, watching like a hawk from his spot near the king. He looks tense, ready to pounce at any moment. You send him a gentle smile, and you see the worry lines on his forehead soften. Sam approaches when cued and taps Rumlow on the shoulder, halting the dance. You curtsey to Rumlow and move your hands onto Sam, adjusting to accommodate to his height.

“You look gorgeous, princess,” Sam says as he begins the dance again, picking up where you and Rumlow left off.

“Thank you, Sam,” you say back, smiling up at the man. You hope that after courting, Sam will become a friend of yours. The two of you get along well and have many aspects in common, though it is clear you two aren't meant to marry.

“Did you see the guy with the weird hat?” He asks, spinning you gently. You laugh and shake your head. You were too caught up in not falling on your face to scan the crowd.

“You’ve got to see it,” Sam chuckles, searching the faces of the people around you for the man in the weird hat. His bright eyes get impossibly more brilliant when he spots the man, and he turns you so you can see the poor fellow. You can’t contain the laugh that pours from your lips at the sight of the man. He is very short in stature, old as well, and has a long scraggly white beard. The obnoxiously large top hat that sits upon his head seems nearly as big as him and is decorated with little rabbits.

“You can tell he dresses himself,” you say quietly, still giggling at the sight. Sam throws his head back with a laugh that fills you with pure joy, and you promise yourself that after your wedding, you will make sure to keep him as a friend. Steven is the next suitor to approach. He claps Sam on the back like an old friend, and the men switch places. Sam bows to you somewhat obnoxiously, so you reply with an equally exaggerated courtesy. Steven, you realize, is a nervous dancer. He stares down at his feet most of the time, and you can hear him muttering the counts to himself. You think it’s sweet how nervous he is, and he probably doesn’t realize how nervous you are too. You clear your throat a bit to get his attention, and his eyes snap up to yours.

“I’m so sorry, princess. I’m not the best dancer.” You chuckle lightly at the confession. In all your other interactions with the man, he was the picture of confidence, he seemed to have no flaws, but now you know his little secret.

“You want to know something?” You ask, not letting him drop your gaze. “I am a horrible dancer. I make a fool of myself every time I dance.” Steven shakes his head and grins; he doesn’t believe you.

“Oh, I doubt that, princess." Now it’s your turn to shake your head, and you can see the stress melt from his shoulders when you give him a small smile. “You seem to be holding your own this evening; you’re making all of us look like chumps.”

“Ask my father,” you say, tilting your head to gesture to the king. “I was quite the sight at my sister’s wedding; I embarrassed my whole family.” You laugh fondly at the memory, no longer too embarrassed of the event.

“I might have to get the rest of the story from him, though I would love to hear more from you.” Steven spins you, the skirt of your gown poofing out beautifully. “However, I think my time is up,” he says as the final suitor advances. You try not to stare at Loki as he approaches, his black suit somehow darker than anything you’ve ever seen, as if it were eating up all the light. His jet-black hair is slicked back to expose the perfect structure of his face, and oh, those eyes. It felt like they were about to swallow you whole. Steven whispers his goodbye to you before Loki has even fully approached, leaving you to stare at the man as he walks toward you. Loki bows before you, and you marvel at the sight. A little voice in your head whispers that a man like him should never bow before another person, and you’re not sure where that thought came from.

“My darling, you look absolutely remarkable,” he says, loud enough for the people in the crowd to hear. The other suitors had been careful to keep their voices low, just for you. Loki doesn’t seem to care that people can hear his words. He places a hand on your waist and takes your free hand in his, warming your skin. The second he makes contact, the rest of the world seems to melt away.

“Are you enjoying the ball?” You ask, trying to steer the conversation away from your appearance. Loki smiles down at you, that beautiful wicked grin, and you feel your knees go weak. You didn't realize he has that kind of effect on you.

“I’ve enjoyed watching those boys trying to win you over,” he says somewhat arrogantly. “But now they can see how a real man treats a woman.” His words thunder in your mind, and you feel your brain go a bit fuzzy.

“I’m not sure I understand,” you reply, unsure if you truly want an explanation. Loki huffs a little laugh, and you feel him press his fingers a little harder on your waist as he leads you in the dance.

“Those princes don’t know what they’re doing. They all can only think of what they want, what will please them. It is no way to treat a woman. It is no way to win her heart.” You don’t want anyone to win your heart, you think to yourself. You aren’t some prize. As if he has read your thoughts, Loki responds. “What they don’t realize is that you can’t be won, you or your heart. You are a complicated, intelligent, and mystifying creature that one must study for years and years. And even once we think we have learned everything about you, you will show us that we know nothing. These boys think that you are some simple girl. They could not be more wrong.” Loki lets the words settle, a proud grin upon his lips. The way he speaks is like those men in the romance novels you read into the early hours of the morning. You hadn’t realized that men like that existed. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you feel your face flush.

“Loki, I--”

“You don’t need to say anything, my dear,” he whispers against your ear as the room comes back into view. You aren’t sure what he did to make them disappear, but as his hot breath caresses your ear, you feel eyes on you again. The music has stopped, and the crowd applauds as Loki pulls away from you, keeping your hands together. He walks you in a circle, showing you off, and when he finishes the display, you curtsey. The guests know that they can begin to dance and mingle again, and after thanking you for the dance, Loki slips into the crowd. You breathe, chest heaving as you break from the trance.

Tagged:@sharksandtea @itsthemaree

divider by:@skylightlantern

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 3 years

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❛ YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE ❜

✨ REQUEST: hermanikiiiiiii i wanted to request you the prompt number 1 with coco cruz!!thank you, love you muchisisimoooooo💕💕

✨ PROMPTS: “Wait, you love me? Like Garfield loves Lasagna?”

✨ MADE BY: Juls.

Gif credit: to my lovely @supervalcsi.

WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

❚❙ JOHNNY ‘COCO’ CRUZ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

When you heard that Coco had been shot, your heart suddenly stopped. It was four days ago in some kind of dog's fight, as Chuckie told you at the scrapyard. Bishop needed someone to take care of him while they were investigating what happened, so you offered yourself without doubting it.

Much to your regret, you are only two good friends, even if you feel more things that you can't explain, about which you haven't talked with anyone. And thanks to your work in the hospital, you managed a room only for him, so he could rest as much as he wanted, as much as he needed. But your back hurts like hell after being sleeping on the sofa, close to the bed, just to make sure that you were able to attend to all his necessities for minimal they were.

These days there, you have learned a lot about him, about his curiosities, about his fears; spending his time awake talking with you to keep his mind entertained, to not think about the pain in his lower abdomen. Your mates took the bullet in a jiffy, but, normally, the sorrow remains for a couple of weeks. Luckily, he only complained when the hour of the next turn of medicines was close.

You have tried to not think about your feelings the time you were in the hospital, but it was impossible. All you wanted to do was to lie by his side on the bed, embrace him between your arms and kiss him, having to conform yourself with holding his hand and resting your cheek on the mattress. Your eyes have never left his eyes, not even when he was sleeping, on alert in case of an unforeseen because of pain, or an infection, or God who knows. You were really paranoid.

“You ready?”

Coco glared at you, slightly tilting his head. You had asked the same question five times in the last two minutes. Offering him a hand to secure himself, the mexican put down from the hospital bed, ready to leave and go home. Angel and Gilly had cleaned his house, even if you insisted to Bishop that you could do it. But he asked you back to stay with him till the next morning, so he wouldn't stay the night alone until they came back from the other side of the border.

Two knocks in the opened door brought you back to reality from your own thoughts, in the meantime that you helped Coco to wear his leather kutte. Directing your tired eyes to the entrance of the room, you found three Vicki's girls, happily waving their hands. Raising an eyebrow confused and your lips pressed, they came in without asking.

“Papi, we've missed you”. The latin and playful tone of voice from Mariela, as she swung her hips to your friend, gave you shivers.

In just one sight, your presence was pushed to the background. These girls hadn't even called to ask about his state of health and, now, they were there as if they did all the work you did —delighted, of course. Trying to keep calm, you put Coco's clothes into his bag, zipping it when everything is ready.

“No te preocupes, we take care of him now”. Carolina sentenced with contempt and superiority, grabbing his stuff ready to abandon the hospital.

“Yeah, mami. Go home and rest”. His words hurt. More than a bullet.

Preferring their company besides yours let you know that he hadn't taken in count what you did. And yes, you did it because you wanted, but you also thought that maybe could mean a step ahead. But it wasn't. Not saying a word, doing anything but a simple nod with your chin, you grabbed your bag to step out from there. Ashamed. Feeling stupid.

Two weeks have passed and Coco has come back to the clubhouse. This time you have been doing extra shifts to compensate for your lost days taking care of him, almost walking like a zombie from home to work, and from work to home. So, when Bishop invites you to a party in his honor, you decline it. You are too tired physically to assist and tired mentally for foolishness. What is the point of going to a party to see Coco having fun with those bitches? You have had enough after two weeks without receiving a single text to thank you or to know how you are. He hasn't even cared about the fact that you haven't shown up in the club for two weeks. That's the little he thinks in your friendship.

Zapping from one channel to another, you try to find something to watch. A movie, a tv show, whatever that helps to distract your mind, while you enjoy thai noodles with beef. Finally finding an action movie, you cover yourself with a cozy blanket, grabbing the cardboard box to start your dinner. The ringtone of your phone interrupts your calm, with Coco's name on the screen. At first, you don't want to answer, but he continues insisting for more than three long minutes. Hanging up and calling again. With a furious growl installed in your throat, you leave over the table your dinner to grab your phone.

“The fuck means you aren' comen'?”

He doesn't even let you say hi or how are you.

“It means that I'm tired and I have to work at five”.

“I don' think one damn beer reverses your sleeping schedule, Yo' Grace”.

“Fuck you, Jonathan. I've been working double shifts to cover the hours I was taking care of you in th—”.

“Nobody asked you to do it”.

Eyes widened and your heart racing. You can't believe he just said that.

“Yeah, nobody did. But your hermanos preferred to be on the other side of the border. Your putas preferred to be partying and sucking dicks in Vicki's. And your mamá sent me pal' carajo when I called to tell her what happened. I did it because I was your friend. Because I cared about you. Because seeing you there with… all those tubes was killing me. That shit continues giving me nightmares every fucking night. But you shit on that. You kicked me as soon as your putas came to the hospital”. You don't know when you have started to cry, more than because of the rage than because of the sadness. “I'm sorry if I'm too tired to drink a fucking beer, but my job is more important than a person who doesn't give a shit about me, who hasn't called or text me in two weeks, who only wants my company when no one else is around. Have fun in your damn party and fuck all those whores to thank them for picking you up from the hospital, but didn't care about how you were after being shot”.

Hanging up, you toss the phone somewhere on the table, wrapping your body with the blanket and lying down on the sofa. Trying to contain the tears, the only thing you earn is to cry bitterness. You can't understand why he only has noticed your absence at the party. What has changed? Probably it was his egocentrism working, wanting to be surrounded by a lot of people, not caring if they're his friends or not. But you're done being his lapdog.

About to fall asleep, the angry hits in the main door make you suddenly wake up agitated.

“Open up!”

The rage is consuming you again after hearing the strong mexican accent, taking three long strides towards it to receive him with your reddened crystal eyes.

“What the fuck 'you want now? Haven't you had enough beating myself up?”

“You're fuckin' dramatic”. He spits in your face, stopping with a foot the slam to his about to close the door again. “I didn't talk to you because you were working, bu' you didn't talk to me either”.

“Yeah, because you were served with your bitches. Go fuck yourself, Jonathan”.

“Don' call me like that again”. Coco grunts taking a step into your house. “You had to work, they came to cover your back”.

“Oh, please, don't make me laugh. They just wanted to have the credits of taking care of you, so you will expend more money with them. That's the only thing they care about you. Wake up from your world of fantasy, Coco. If you weren't part of the MC, you wouldn't be a shit for them; just another fucking soldier with a broken home”. You can't help but push his chest with both hands, driven by anger.

At first, he doesn't say anything. He looks thoughtful, being aware of the truth in your words. And it hurts that you have to be the one to open his eyes. The problem is that you weren't thinking while talking, pulling your gaze away from him and pressing your trembling lips, one against the other.

“I'm sorry”. You babble, cleaning your tears with the back of your left hand. “I didn't mea—”.

“But you said so”. Coco interrupts you with a husky tone of voice, bristling every inch of skin of your anatomy. “That's wha' I am without my kutte. An ex-soldier, a criminal, an outlaw. I spend my money on them because they take care of me, one way or another”.

“I did it too”.

“So, what? What you want? Money? Tell me an amount”.

Squinting at him, you can't help but chuckle with a painful and bitter laugh.

“I did it because I love you, not because I want your money”. You confess, knowing there's no going back. “I don't care about your money, nor your job, nor about your kutte. I love you because you make me happy. After all, for me, there's nothing better than a hug of yours, because you… you are simply amazing. You're intelligent, funny, loyal. And I wish that you could see yourself through my eyes, Coco”.

He, not saying anything, is killing you slowly. Barely breathing, you cross your arms over your chest to hide the fact that your lungs aren't receiving any air.

“I thought that after being shot, you realized you only live once. And that… after being those… boring days with me, you realized that you preferred the company of these other girls. The funny part of being alive. So I just pulled myself away”. Taking a small pause, you bow down your head, cleaning your tears again. “These weeks have been torture. I've written you a lot of texts that I haven't sent… and I've been a lot of times about to call you. But 'you know that… feeling when you think... the other person is not gonna answer you, because maybe is too busy for you? That shit has been destroying me”.

Hoping that Coco finally is going to speak, he remains silent. Looking at you openmouthed, processing all the information you have just give him.

“Can you, ple—please, say something?” You beg almost shaking.

“Wait, you… love me? Like… Garfield loves lasagna?”

Raising your eyes, pouting at him, you know that he's trying to make you laugh after understanding all the pain you have been through. Lonely. Without talking about it with anyone.

“I'm sorry, mami… I just… fuck”.

Cupping your cheeks onto his hands, Coco slams his lips on yours, tasting the salty tears you have shed because of him. The sloppy kisses bring some more air to your lungs, calming your racing pulse and making you feel less unhappy. As your fingers get intertwined in his shirt, crinkling under your grip, he urges you to walk backward so he can close the main door with a kick.

“God knows I'm so fuckin' sorry… Please, forgive me”. Coco's whispers brush your lips, keeping his eyes closed just like yours. “I'm gonna take care of you now, okay?”.

Nodding in silence, you place your arms around his middle back, hiding your face into his chest. His strong scent brings you back to life, while his arms wrap you tightly to comfort all the pain he has provoked you without knowing it.

“I just want you, ma'. No one else. Just you”.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ✨#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #johnny coco cruz x reader #johnny coco cruz imagine #coco cruz imagine #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz

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mars-colony · 4 years

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OC LAYERS MEME

Found this oc meme in the sole survivor tag and liked it for Dolls. These pics were made with ummmmandy’s picrew. If you’d like to do this meme for your ocs, please do and tag me 💕

- LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE Name: Dollie Anne Wallace Eye Colour: Hazel Brown Hair Style/Colour: Jet black, curly, prone to frizzing in humidity, keeps it in a bun most of the time and bobby pinned to heck to keep it in place. When it's down it's just past her shoulders. She has swoop bangs. Height: 5'6" Clothing Style: Dollie prefers to wear modest clothing, things that are cozy and comfortable. When she isn't out in the field she loves to wear dresses and heels. In the field she sticks with pants and t-shirts with her bomber jacket or a green flannel. She went into the vault with her pearl earrings and necklace, so she's got those most of the time. Best Physical Feature: Dollie's favorite of her features would be her dimples when she smiles, or her very straight teeth.

- LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE Fears: Letting people down, being a burden, losing the things she's worked so hard for, making mistakes. She's become quite a bit claustrophobic, and she's terrified of radscorpions. Guilty Pleasure: Tabasco sauce. She'll put it on just about anything. (Also a bit of the Bobrov's moonshine once in a blue moon). Biggest Pet Peaves: People that are manipulative, that use other people or endanger other people. She also can't stand chewing sounds. Ambition for the Future: She wants to make the Commonwealth a safer and more stable place for Shaun and for all of the settlers living in it.

- LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS First Thoughts Waking Up: Need. Coffee. What They Think About Most: Finding Shaun, making sure he's safe. What They Think Before Bed: Things will get better soon. She's so close, she's almost there. What They Think Their Best Quality Is: Their determination. Dollie keeps going and she doesn't give up until the job is done (most of the time).

- LAYER FOUR: WHAT'S BETTER? Single or Group Dates: Both have their place and can be enjoyable. To be Loved or Respected: Respected. Respect should be the basis of love. Beauty or Brains: Brains. Intelligence itself if beautiful. Dogs or Cats: She's more of a dog person, but she likes both.

- LAYER FIVE: DO YOU? Lie: She likes to portray herself as someone who doesn't lie, but she does. And she's really quite skilled at it. Believe in Yourself: Whether Dollie believes in herself or not, she believes in the people around her, and she believes in doing what is right and what needs to be done. She often exceeds her own expectations as to what she is capable of, especially in the Wasteland. Believe in Love: Love is, in Dollie's opinion, the most precious thing in the world. It's what keeps the world turning and what can heal some of the damage. Want Someone: She's trying not to think about that (yes, yes so badly).

- LAYER SIX: HAVE YOU EVER? Been on Stage: No. Dollie isn't a fan of being in the spotlight. The closest she's come to being on stage is when she was working as an attorney in a courtroom (or giving a speech at her law school graduation). Done Drugs: She'd rather not get into it. Changed Who You Were to Fit In: She doesn't like to admit it, but there was a time in her life where she worked very hard to be what everyone wanted her to be so that she wouldn't disappoint anyone. She catches herself doing it sometimes.

- LAYER SEVEN: WHAT'S THEIR... Favorite Colour: Green or Orange Favorite Animal: Dollie loves radchickens. They bring her so much happiness. She's also a big fan of radrabbits. Honestly, give her an animal that wants to be pet and won't hurt her and she'll give it some love. Favorite Book: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin Favorite Game: She enjoys playing the games on her pipboy from time to time. Gorgnak & the Ruby Ruins is probably her favorite, mostly because she doesn't have to compete with Maccready on it.

- LAYER EIGHT: AGE DOB: 4/21/2046 How Old Will You Be: When exiting the vault Dollie was 31, give or take 210 years, she's 241 (now 242 in fic). Age You Lost Your Virginity: 15 Does Age Matter: In the sense that people with vastly different ages have a big lack of shared experiences and the younger party can often be taken advantage of, yes. In the sense that you can find love even when you're older, or you can learn and grow and change at any age, definitely not.

- LAYER NINE: FINISH THE SENTENCE I love: Dogmeat. I just think he's neat. I feel: pretty, oh so pretty (Westside Story). I hide: when there's a deathclaw chasing me. I miss: orange juice. Oh, and hot showers. Central air conditioning. Ice cream sundaes. I wish: I had a working car so I didn't have to walk halfway across the Commonwealth every other day.

#oc meme #oc layers meme #sole survivor dollie wallace #fo4 #sole survivor

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spiritsonic · 5 years

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So I recently re-read the Silver Age arc and I have a couple of questions. In the future, are characters like Sonic, the freedom fighters and Eggman still well known or do people think they are just legends? Exactly what kind of work do the council make citizens do? Based off how that one citizen was afraid, it doesn't sound good. What have happened to other individuals with special powers who went to the science center? Did you plan on exploring more of Silver futuristic world?

Yo! Good questions. I think the easiest way to cover it all is to give a rundown of how Onyx City is set up. It’s long, so check it out after the jump!

Onyx City is the central hub of a network of automated cities built across the fallen wreckage of Angel Island, now known as Onyx Island. The known world of the city’s inhabitants is a wasteland, destroyed by some unknown disaster. Nobody knows who first built this network of cities, but the technology used draws from the Echidnas’ and Robotnik’s work– as well as, surprisingly, the work of Dr. Ellidy. The present population of Onyx City is descended from refugees from around the globe, but their society is now isolationist; they do not seek contact elsewhere in the world, and nobody is knocking on their door. As far as they know, they’re alone on Mobius.

Onyx City’s society is strictly stratified into categories– labor, scientific, and administrative. Social status is decided by intelligence; children, separated as infants from their birth-families and raised in boarding schools, are rigorously tested at a young age to decide what their class will be. The tests heavily favor calculation and memorization over other forms of intelligence. Once a child’s rank is identified, they’re fitted with their ID cuffs– implants and/or worn devices that clearly identify their class by color-coding, and allow the city’s security system to track them. The color-coding goes like this:

LABOR CLASS: blue to teal. This is what most folks are, including Silver. His big metal glove cuffs and boot-cuffs are his IDs. Teal-class are tasked with manual labor in the city’s massive algae processing plants; the main food staple is robot-farmed algae grown in massive patties out on the wastes, which is transported to the city to be processed into complete nutrient cakes, bio-fuel, plastics, and textiles. Silver frequently skips out of work, using his TK to avoid ID scanners and such. He trades fresh water from his hideout to bootleg food carts in the Night Market instead of relying on the daily algae-cake allotment he’d get for showing up to work.

SCIENTIFIC CLASS: yellow. This is where Schlemmer lands; he’s kinda lower-middle class. The doc’s IDs are brain implants, which he has definitely tampered with, but his rank is also shown on his clothes. Lower-ranking scientists are tasked with maintaining the city’s automated cleaning and maintenance systems, while middle and upper-level scientists may pursue personal research projects. They’re subject to evaluations every few years from the council, where it is decided if their projects are valuable to the city or not. If they are, they can continue. If not, they’re stripped of their lab space and do maintenance work. The science class are submitted to intelligence and performance testing through their whole lives, not just in childhood like the labor class. Schlemmer, like many scientists, has turned to self-inflicted cybernetic modification in an attempt to maintain high scores– his memory problems are likely the result of some homebrew brain surgery gone awry.

ADMINISTRATIVE CLASS: yellow to white. This is pretty much just the Council. Although we didn’t see anybody with white IDs in Silver Age, did we? O ho ho. Anyway, Their masks are their IDs. People are chosen for the Council not through election but instead are personally selected by the administrative A.I. that oversees the entire city network. The origin and intentions of this A.I. are unknown to the people of Onyx City, even the Council, but it influences the thoughts and actions of the Council through the masks they wear. Gold is a special case because her psychic abilities make her resistant to her mask’s subliminal mind control.

SPECIAL CLASS, CRIMINAL: pink. Being knocked down a rank is the main form of punishment in Onyx City, but you can only go so low; when someone at the lowest level breaks protocol, they’re classed as a criminal and forfeit what rights they had left. Incarceration or deportation are the most common sentences, which invariably lead to a cruel death. One may also get into this class if they’re caught with modified or removed ID cuffs.

Folklore about the city’s origins and garbled versions of the history leading up to it –most notably the Kingdom of Acorn’s fight against the Eggman Empire– is common entertainment among the labor class. Most believe it to just be fantasy. Those in the science class have access to fragmentary records from that time period, but nothing is formally taught and seeking it out is not encouraged by the Council. Schlemmer is probably one of the prevailing experts, as he has an enduring respect for and interest in the wonders of the past. The Bits, his robotic assistants, where inspired by the records of Mobian androids. Their friendly, adaptive A.I. was reverse-engineered from some old code he found in the Digital World, which he believes may have once been part of one of those androids.

You may be asking why a place with so many advanced robots needs a massive labor force of regular people, and you’d be right, they don’t. The city could be fully automated and perform better. But the labor force isn’t there to keep the wheels turning, it’s to allow the administration to identify individuals with unusual abilities– such as Silver’s telekinesis. The fast-paced, hazardous, physically-demanding factories are ideal for raising people’s stress levels and forcing them to accidentally awaken or reveal their powers. People with powers are collected by the Council and certain members of the Science Center (not Schlemmer), to be used for experimentation. I don’t wanna go into any more details about that, because that’d spill all my possible future plot beans, but there’s definitely a reason the Council had all that tech on hand to strap down and control Silver and Gold. The labor class is also maintained by the administration because while the city can produce enough resources to keep everyone alive, it would not be able to maintain the quality of life enjoyed by the science class or the administrative class, thus effectively ending their society.

That about covers the questions! I can go more in-depth on the cultural details (like the Night Market), but that’s a pretty comprehensive overview. I do hope to eventually write more stuff in the Silver Age universe, but I haven’t had a good time to get around to it.

#Silver Age #Archie Sonic #You can see I'm playing fast and loose with lore-- this is in fanfic territory

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austenpoppy · 6 years

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When fanfiction begins to be worrying

Warning : Ron-lovers, if you read this it is at your own peril. I am already suffering from long-lasting damage. Vivi, don't read. Really. Don't. Trust me.

We won't even talk about incest and other criminal and sickening fanfictions, which are mostly rejected by the fandom with the utmost disgust - fortunately.

No, no, what I'm going to talk about is admired by a - sadly - large part of the fandom. I was just looking for a cool fanfiction about Ron during my break when I found this, on the first page : "101 ways to kill Ron Weasley."

I know, I shouldn't have clicked on the link, but I couldn't help myself. I had to know.

This is the Author's note :

"This story is inspired by Crys' 1001 Deaths of Lord Voldemort on

For many of us, we hate one character in canon more than any other. No, not Lord Voldemort. I am, of course, talking about Ron Weasley.

Ron is lazy, stupid, annoying, and, in my opinion, mentally retarded.

Now, many in the fanfiction community hate Ginny much more than Ron; however, I find that to be more based upon their experiences with fanfiction than Ginny's actual roll in canon. Let's all be honest, outside of CoS and a cameo in OoTP, Ginny has very few lines and almost no involvement in the plot while Ron plays the role of a giant douchebag throughout the books.

This story, which I hope people will enjoy, is my way of killing off the dumbass in as many colorful ways as possible.

In case you can't tell, expect major Ron!Bashing."

...

I should have stopped as soon as I read this. I didn't, pushed by a morbid curiosity : I wanted to know how far people were ready to go. Useless to say that I bitterly regret it.

First, notice here that Voldemort and Ron are the only characters that I know of who have entire fanfics dedicated to kill them.

Voldemort and Ron are put on the same level. A teenager, the best friend of the hero and a hero himself, is compared to a psychopath and a murderer.

Moreover, I have to underline that the author judges Ron as "mentally retarded". I find it worrying. Just because a teenager have not the same grades as the best student in his year, just because he does not display the same way of thinking as his clever best friend does not mean he is stupid. Far from that.

That is a judgement on intelligence that I think is horrible. You have to know that intelligence, despite what tests such as IQ's claim, can not be really measured. It depends on so many factors. The results of IQ tests depend themselves on so many factors.

Furthermore, having real problems to understand things should be seen as a disability, a handicap and not an insult. It is a very difficult situation to deal with.

Also notice that the intellect is one the major criteria differencing the characters for those people. Intellect is practically above everything else.

I read the fanfiction, constituted of two chapters and multiple drabbles.

First reaction :

First one : Ron dies from eating too much. He chokes on his food.

Second one : In first year, wanting to prove a point to Hermione, Ron willingly mispronunces a spell and conjures a buffalo which crushes him

Third one : In Deathly Hallows, Ron takes the locket with him when he leaves. Harry and Hermione try to stop him and splinch him (he is split in two), but they don't recover the Horcrux. Last sentence : "Even in death, Ron Weasley found a way to be a pain in the ass."

Fourth one : Ron, charged by Harry to give Hedwig her treats, eats them in front of her. Hedwig, with the help of thousands other owls, avenges herself by attacking and killing Ron. Reminding of "The birds" by Hitchcock.

Fifth one : Ron, jealous, accuses Hermione of loving Harry and calls her "a Mudblood". She kills him. Harry and her hide Ron's body before they have sex. Petty remark about the length of Harry and Ron's manhoods. Note of the "author" explaining that it was a summary of another fic.

Sixth one : the Trio enters Bellatrix's vault. Ron is immediately fascinated by the amount of money and begins to steal it despite his friends' warnings. He burts into flames and jinxes his friends. Particularly petty sentence : "He never knew, or cared, that his greed had doomed them as well."

Seventh one : Ron speaks proudly about the unbreakable vow he made when he was five. Hermione asks him what it was about, he says he had sworn he would never say he wasn't a jobbernowl, he dies. Worst thing : use of a real passage of the book.

Eighth one : Ron dies on the chess set. His sacrifice is presented as stupid because it 'had to be another way.'

Nine : Harry uses Sectumsempra on Ron while he is sleeping. Ron dies. Harry transforms his corpse into a sock and burns it.

Last one : after Ron is made prefect, Hermione refuses to have him as a partner, jinxes him and kills him "for the greater good." Particularly nasty sentences : "Harry looked at the badge and fought the urge to go downstairs and ask McGonagall and Dumbledore if they were high when they selected the male Gryffindor prefect this year." / "'Sure', Ron said, completely shocked. 'I was positive you would get it, Harry.' 'You and the rest of the world,' Harry thought darkly." / "I can already see Ron not taking his duties seriously and flaunting the privileges that prefects normally deserve."

I won't comment all of them, but I really want to say something about some of them.

The first one uses a trope overused in Ron-bashing fanfiction : the fact that Ron eats a lot and sometimes speaks with his mouth full. Obviously, the author has forgotten what it is to be a teenager, and especially a thin teenager. Their metabolism needs food, and loads of food, because they are growing up and thin people tend to burn off energy more rapidly.

The fourth makes me sick. (Not that they don't all make me want to throw up.) First since it uses the overused trope I have already mentioned. Moreover for Ron would definitely do what Harry asks him to do, and for Ron is definitely not cruel. And thirdly because... THE BIRDS ! Does it ring a bell, a physical assault on Ron with birds ?

The fifth one. There is absolutely no universe where Ron, I'm-going-to-kill-Malefoy-with-my-bare-hands!Ron, would call Hermione a Mudblood. No. Way.

The sixth. Just because Ron said once something like "It would be nice to have galleons for a change", once "I hate being poor" (ONCE !!!), "Lucky you" (referring to Harry not noticing the difference on his amount of gold when the fake money disappeared), "Where's mine ?" (asking Bill where his money was because Bill has just given Harry a purse full of gold), that's it, Ron is greedy. Just because he doesn't want to be in need. Although he never complained that much.

These people hating Ron for he does not like to be poor are just self-righteous and have very probably never lived in the same situation. They have never been homeless, have received all the gifts for Christmas they wanted, have lived in a warm and comfortable house. It's easy to think about morals when your stomach is full, your health is perfect and well taken care of, and your basical material needs are fulfilled.

I remember a story my dance teacher told me : there was a poor woman in Africa who had lost a husband, a son and a leg in a war and still considered herself luckier than a French homeless person because she had a roof above her head.

I'm not saying that losting a loved one is less terrible. Nothing is more terrible.

Just that hating a fourteen-years old boy who never received another Christmas gift than a maroon jumper he hates but still puts on without really complaining because his mother made it, because he would like to have clothes that fit him or galleons he could spend to offer things to his friends is stupid. Really. And shows a lack of empathy.

Moreover, it's not as if Ron was not generous. All he has he shares it. His galleons, he mostly spends it on gifts for his friends. He gave his Christmas gifts to an house-elf. Ron has a really big, big heart and nothing is more important to him than his friends and family.

Eight. Just. How dares he / she ? That's what I hate with this fandom. Everything is twisted to correspond to the views of people.

Last. The prefect badge. My god the prefect badge. Maybe the most disgusting one, because Harry and Hermione are depicted as thinking the worst of him and somehow echo the 'No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect'. The fact that Ron is often belittled by the fans who don't think he deserved the badge is reminiscent of the fact that Ron didn't either. Ron didn't think he deserved it. That makes me soooo angry.

Pansy Parkinson deserved her badge, but Ron ? Nooooo of course.

The question of worthiness in Ron-bashing is central. People operate a grading : some characters are better than others. The worst is to think that they do it in real life.

I am really naive. I thought that most readers would be inflamed by such display of stupidity. How wrong I was ! This story had 242 reviews, whose only 12 were critical. On the twelve crital ones, 4 were saying that Ron was just an ordinary teenager with no talent, but that it was a shame to dislike him for that.

The rest ?... At this point I don't know if I want to cry or burst into flames out of rage.

I have warned you before. I warn you again. Be aware of the violence of what will follow.

"More!

In order to get a good nights sleep, I need to read about Ron dying in horrendous and funny ways, due to his folly and vices."

At this point it looks like a caricature, doesn't it ? We can notice, however, that people vent out their frustrations and violence on fictional characters. It's up to you if it is good or not. I think it is sick to post it on the Internet, on a personal level.

"A note to a couple of Ron fanboys that posted. First, don' t like? Don' t read. You can tell it is a bashing story from the summary. Second; each person can interpret the canon events the way he wants. Personally, i see it like this: Ron betrayed and abandoned his supposed best friend when he needed help the most. Twice. And he never even apologised properly! It is not our best moments and actions that show us who we really are, but our worst ones. Because, usually, that is when one lets his true self show. Ron is not a bad person, but he is an idiot in canon."

It actually reflects a way of thinking. Ron is defined by the moment he felt betrayed and argued against his best friend - and he tried to apologize, though didn't make Harry apologize for hitting him - and the moment he left under mental torture - the first one who tells me Ron isn't strong-willed will have to run really fast from my anger, because Ron resisted possession and once rebelled against a thought mass murederer on a broken leg and they know nothing about torture -. For this kind of people, you can't have flaws. You can't be faulty. You have to be perfect. You can't ever be forgiven. This is unhealthy.

"*Insane laugh* I love this story! I've always hated Ron. *Sigh* If only he died in cannon, then my life would be complete!"

Once again I am amazed by the VIOLENCE of such a statement.

"I just love the first one where Ron dies while stuffing his face. I have often thought that he had either Bulima or a tapeworm. I have actually seen someone eat like him. It turned out that this person was Bulimic. How else does someone stuff himself and remain skinny?"

It displays a total lack of understanding of what eating disorders really are. Those are disorders which are really extremely difficult to deal with on a daily basis. They are mistaken here with bad eating manners.

"Are you in middle schoolers? Because that's how they teach you how to write in middle school. Also, Ron IS stupid. His grades show that. And Hermione is always caring and helping Harry, even when Ron is off sulking, jealous of Harry. And who cares if Ron came back after leaving? He still left! And getting his ass off of bed is not an excuse for Ron. He only goes along with Harry because he needs to! To keep being Harry's friend, that is. You're actually as mentally deficient as Ron is, and I hope you learn some proper fucking grammar."

Once again intelligence is confused with good grades. That's how you end up with teachers telling students who don't have good grades that they are too stupid to do anything of their life. Ron is here considered as an opportunist. As if he had chosen to be friends with Harry for fame -internal scream. As if being friends with Harry was easy. As if he had not commited his life to help his friends. Notice that once again someone is judges according to his so-called bad actions (to me, Ron leaving is not a mistake Ron did, as I said multiple times already).

"Oi weasel!, for the first and final time, there will never be an Hermione and you, so stop dreaming about her; she's way, out of your league, otherwise l will make you into an weasel patty..."

Love is seen as a question of worthiness.

"Can the Basilisk eat him? please please let the Basilisk eat him"

Once again the violence strucks me.

"ugh i hate him 2 he always runs away or gets jelous. The one thing he did was play stupid chess. Like geez. I love the owl 1".

Chess is considered stupid. CHESS IS CONSIDERED STUPID, BUT WRITING AN ENTIRE FANFIC TO KILL A FICTIONAL CHARACTER IS NOT. Those people are sickeningly judgemental and self-righteous.

"Thank you, I really needed a good laugh and nothing is more funny than Ron dying in horrific, nasty ways."

*throws up*

"Hilarious. Keep updating. I can't stand Ron. The flaws of Snape, Albus, Remus, Sirius and the rest makes them interesting characters. The flaws of Ron make him a putz."

Notice that Ron is the one character that apparently can't be forgiven for his flaws. Ever.

"Lol, Keep killing Ron, it's enjoyable. It's a good stress reliever to read these. :)

See ! Ron is nothing more than a punching ball to those people. I'm scared, really. Their immaturity is worrying.

"I agree with you about Ron he really is a good for nothing person in canon."

*sees red* That's what I'm fighting against in real life. People telling teenagers (and here one of the most admirable fictional teenagers I've ever seen) with a crippling lack of self-esteem that they are worthless. DON'T LISTEN TO THEM !

"this is so funny. i love the owl treats one. my favourite so far. anyone who dares say this is rubbish will face my anger, dont worry. just because it wont happen in canon dosent mean its not good."

Well, sorry to break it to you, but this is rubbish.

"Harry could have been the next Voldermort or Dumbledore if Ron hadn't infected him wi"

Ron and his friendship with Harry are seen as DISEASES.

"Weasley must die! Weasley must die!"

"I actually don't mind Ginny as a character, but Ron has always severely irritated me. The ending to Deathly Hallows was disappointing - how could JKR stick Hermione with a git like that? Ron's been nothing but awful to her since day one, and let's not even get started on how he's treated Harry...

Not really such a "loyal" sidekick, is he? When it all comes down to it, he's a selfish prat, thinking of nobody but himself. The PoA incident with Crookshanks, then GoF when he accused Harry of putting his name into the Goblet - there's been numerous occaisions in which that red haired git has allowed his jealously to get the better of him and abandoned his friends all because of his own petty insecurities.

Halfway through Deathly Hallows, I was ready to strangle him. I know the locket probably brought most of it on - but I don't see that as an excuse for him to throw a childish temper tantrum and blow up about Harry not knowing what he's doing. Okay, so you miss mummy's cooking, and living your life as a lazy sloth..

No reason to take it out on your two best friends. At least your parents are still alive, you ignorant MORON. I was rather pleased when Harry told him off, though. :)

All in all; Ron has always been an annoying, pain in the butt character to me. Utterly useless, really.

I can't wait to see what other creative ways you come up with to kill him.

*adds story to favorites*

Weasley is NOT my king."

So many things wrong.

Ron has been nothing other than awful to Hermione ? What about 'You're the most wonderful person I've ever met ?' 'She's been perfect, as usual.' ? What about getting detention several times (and one washing bedpans) for defending her ?

#ron weasley #hp #anti ron-hate

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maxheadley · 6 years

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A Little Confession.

Timothy's Imaginations: Chapter 10

Tad bobbed his leg up and down unyieldingly. He sat in the waiting room of a lonely clinic, where the walls were painted an unsatisfying shade of orange and the chairs were damningly uncomfortable. The clinic needed some serious TLC. The cracks in the leather of the chairs bothered him more than the disgusting orange walls. He shifted his numb bum about twenty times to find a comfortable position, though the position eventually became apparent it wasn't comfortable at all. Only briefly. He listened to the tick tock of the large antique grandfather clock next to him to focus on anything else other than his increasing worry about his best friend and erratic typing of the desk nurse.

He'd most likely freak out if the clock hadn't been ticking in his ear. The one thing he liked, something consistent, something unchanging. A clock never changed from it's ticking pattern to irregularities. He sighed, glancing at the clock reading where the hand rested. He'd been stuck in the waiting for about an hour. How long did it take for a doctor to examine their patients? Surely not this long, Tad thought disdainfully.

Suddenly, the door that lead towards the rooms where patients were examined swung open revealing a young doctor dressed in some tan slacks, a ugly blue sweater, normal shoes, and a oversized lab coat. He carried a clipboard and his overly large round eyeglasses were slipping down to the bridge of his nose. Behind him, Winnie walked, rubbing her paling tan arm awkwardly. Her nerves were frayed. He suspected. "Thaddeus.." Winnie pushed past the unaware doctor and hugged him tightly. Something felt wrong, but he didn't ask. He would probably hear it from the Doctor.

He kissed her temple as the man approached. "I am unsure what Winnie's infected with but we've drawn blood and had her do a urine test and we'll receive the results a couple days. But in the meantime, I've prescribed her some antibiotics to flush out the cold and help stabilize her breathing." The Doctor said so quickly, Tad had troubling putting the words into sentences.

"Okay, thank you. Is that all?" Tad was itching to get out of there. His paranoia began to bother him and he had a feeling a panic attack was on the rise. Something about this place seemed off. Surreal. Unethical.

"No.." The Doctor shot him a startled expression. "There's one other thing.. I have to ask why does she have a small incision on her throat?"

Tad wrinkled his nose, remembering how Winnie described Harley's attack and how the wire scraped across her throat drawing a few beads of unnecessary bloodshed. "Alarming as this may sound, she scratches her neck when she's extremely nervous and sometimes uses sharp objects and it causes scrapes or small cuts. It's no big deal." He lied, not wanting to divulge the truth to a complete and under stranger.

The man raised his unattractive, bushy eyebrows almost to his brown hairline. "Probably would be wise if you um made sure she doesn't use any sharp objects to inherently self harm."

"Yeah, I'll do my best." Tad awkwardly muttered.

Winnie settled on the comfortable seat of Tad's truck. She buckled up as he jogged around the vehicle to get himself in. He seemed tense. Something was off. She suspected the problem was the awkward, sterile setting of the clinic. He had always avoided being around doctors or hospitals, and rarely did her ever step foot inside a place that reminded him of a hospital. She observed him buckling his seatbelt and insert the key in the ignition.

Finally, after several minutes of observing his fast movements and frantic biting of his lower lip, she placed a small, clammy hand on his thin thigh and squeezed to gather his attention. She knew her voice was hoarse and didn't want to startle him using her froggy voice.

He placed one of his hands over hers and sighed, leaning the back of head onto the glass, smushing the long uncut pale hair against his skull. He closed his dark green eyes briefly. "I have to tell you something." He hadn't ignited the engine though the keys remained in the ignition, so he turned his entire body to face hers and lifted one shaky hand to caress her pale, sickly cheek. "And it may be awkward for us afterward. But promise me we'll be friends still?" He squeezed his eyes closed as if expecting her to reject him or something.

Winnie would never.

"I promise. Now, what is it?" She asked, trying to clear the saliva that gathered at the back of her throat away. Her voice never sounded more terrible than right then.

He opened her eyes and leaned forward about as much as he could do the seatbelt, and smashed his lips straight into hers. To her surprise, she allowed him. She could feel something in her core blooming as he kissed her consistently for those brief few seconds. She frowned, when he stopped and leaned back slightly. "I am in love with you. Have been for the past couple of years but seeing you be abused and hurt by others has made me realized I needed to tell and show you that I'd do anything to make you feel loved the way you deserved." He said breathless.

Beads of sweat sparkled on his tan forehead. His eyes were alight with passion and a film of undisguised love. How could she extinguish such a beautiful thing like him? He was perfection disguised under glasses and a giant sweater with either his nose in a book or his eyes trained on a laptop screen. He was a fire shrouded by a cloak of shadows. He needed to shine. Who was she to let the flames burn out? She couldn't.

"And I wish for you to be mine. In the ways that count." Tad said, breaking Winnie out of her small reverie. The innocent, vulnerable expression on his damningly handsome face pleased with her.

She pressed her index finger against the swollen bottom lip of his. She met his eyes. She saw the possibilities swirling in them, the countless opportunities and adventures they could have, the ideas they could attempt to create, side by side, together.

She knew what she had to do.

"Are you sure it is me you want?"

"I am positive you are what I need and want."

"Okay." Winnie licked her bottom lip drawing his eyes to her lips. "I'll be yours."

With that she sealed their new relationship with a simple, sweet kiss. One, which, warmed the inner broken parts of her heart.

After picking up Winnie's prescribed medication, Tad drove them back to the cabin to ignite the plan they devised and decided on the drive back. Winnie had her fever-ridden forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. Her bright blue eyes suddenly brighter than they had been in many days. She watched the trees race past, listening to the tires of Tad's truck crunch over the pebbles and dirt, and the roar of the engine.

She couldn't shake the fear gathering in her belly as they neared their destination. What if their plan went wrong? What if the others tried to poke holes in their plan and mess everything up? Or what if Harley and Timothy retaliated and someone got hurt? She couldn't bare seeing another person hurt. Everyone was hurt enough already.

"Tad.. Did you call Wren like I asked?" Winnie asked, lifting her head up and adjusting her sitting position.

"Yes. He's meeting us there. I gave him the directions and told him to lay low and not attract any attention. If he did, we're screwed." He squinted at the rain stained windshield, the glare of the sun obviously bothering him.

"Wren's pretty intelligent. He's cunning and manipulative, " She paused, having to cough. "And he's resourceful. He'd weave his way out of any situation." She added, after about a minute.

Tad parked in the driveway of the cabin and glanced at her. "God. I hope this works." He muttered, unbuckling his seat.

Winnie scooted across the worn seat and cupped his cheeks. She kissed his lips lightly. "I promise you it'll work." She gave him a small, confident smile.

Tad opened his door and helped her out, not responding other than a measly nod. She suspected her had doubts nothing would go right. She grabbed the bag of medicine from the seat and started for the cabin, when a loud strange whistle caught her attention. She depicted where the whistling came from and saw Wren perched in a tree several yards away looking weirdly like Tarzan except wearing regular clothes and his hair was not long.

She made a quick, subtle gesture to Tad and detoured into the woods. She stopped at the foot of the large oak tree Wren sat in. "What in the world are you doing up there?" She shouted, but quietly. If she attracted her mother's attention, it was all over. Everything would go downhill from there.

Wren hopped down from the sturdy branch and landed neatly on his feet. He brushed a couple discolored leaves off his head and adjusted the misplaced strands before answering. "I was scouting out the location, figuring out the best place to strike." He said, like he did not just impressively leap from a tree and not break a leg.

"And did you?" Tad popped up beside Winnie casting subtle glances over his shoulder. Probably hoping Terra wasn't staring out the window.

"There's a backdoor and a large window that is weirdly open I could sneak through as long as you two provide a good enough diversion to help me get through without being captured." Wren said, flatly.

Winnie sighed, running a shaky hand through her black curls. "I'm sure we're in enough trouble to distract the hell out of my Ma and Davie."

"I don't disagree." Muttered Tad.

"Okay. So what do you want me to do once I'm in?"

"Well.." Winnie began.

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