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promptsinpanem · 2 years ago

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Longing

Summary: Peeta Mellark realizes he isn't happy giving up his dreams of having his own family. He is at odds with himself, longing to have a child with the love of his life, Katniss Everdeen. Rating: T Prompt: R6D4 Green (Life)

At Odds

(Peeta’s POV)

I would never pressure Katniss. I love her, and she is more than enough.

Or is she?

I don't know. Why am I having these thoughts? I know I love her, and she IS my life. My whole life. But lately, the tug in my heart for a baby has been too much. It's like a physical ache that pierces me every time I think about it. When I walk to town and see children playing, my usual response of being happy to see them becomes sadness. I would never get to experience having a child of my own.

I don't know what changed, because I used to be fine about it. For years, I had accepted that Katniss did not want to have a child, but these past few months, I doubted my decision. Was I really okay with it? Will I ever really be happy just having Katniss as my only family?

These thoughts make me feel like I'm betraying her. By even entertaining the idea that Katniss is not enough for me. Why wouldn't she be? Katniss loves me. In the arena, she gave up everything for me. When I returned to Twelve, she helped me get better despite her own struggles.

When I was released from the Capitol, I was half-mad. They didn't know what to do with me, so they exiled me to District 12 before I was even fully healed. Saving me became Katniss’ priority. After I planted primroses in her yard, she came to my house to see me. Her eyes were filled with fear at the sight of me, but she did try to check up on me, even from afar. In Thirteen, I traumatized her when I strangled her. Touching her neck whenever I was in her presence became an unconscious habit of hers. Even though I was holed up in the basement, trying to get away from her, Katniss brought me game every day and stayed in my living room just to keep me company. So many times, I pushed her away -- so many times -- yet she always came back. Katniss loved me. Still loves me after all these years. So why am I asking for more? Why am I so baby-crazy that I would even consider Katniss not enough for me? I love her. I love her. I love her. I love her. There is no doubt about it, so why is my heart double-crossing me?

I try to brush away these feelings to the back of my mind as I work in the bakery. Things have been looking up, and we're expanding to the next lot beside us. It will be a cafe of some sort where people can dine and enjoy freshly baked bread and pastries. My right-hand man, Lenny, is doing all the work in the drink section, and our taste tests have been more than promising. Many of our customers who tried our free samples can't wait until we finally start our cafe. Katniss has been nothing else but supportive of me, coaxing me to keep going and trusting in myself. She always tells me how proud she is of me and I feel so loved by her. I wish I could brush away my other feelings because, damn, I sound so ungrateful and disloyal at the moment.

I guessed it all started when Thom and Delly had Katniss and me babysit little Timothy. He was two years old, a chubby and fudgy little thing with blonde hair and gray eyes. His cheeks were rosy even with his fair skin, and with his teeth coming along, it made him so ridiculously cute. It was just for one day as Delly and Thom needed to visit an ill friend in District 11. I have held so many babies before; mothers just seem to toss them into my arms at the bakery, but there was something about little Timothy that day that snared my heart. We were just playing in the living room with the wooden blocks Katniss gave him for his birthday. She took the time to cut branches and carve out different natural shapes for little Timothy, then she sealed the wood with sweet-smelling beeswax. Timothy loved it, and he couldn't stop playing with the blocks. We were stacking the blocks together and laughing out loud when they fell.

His squeaks were so endearing they made our big house vibrant with life. We chuckled and laughed, and I made funny faces at him to make him giggle all the more. I was always good at making babies happy, and I pulled all the stops for little Timothy. He was so jolly and so giggly, clapping his hands while saliva drooled out from his mouth. His head would jerk back when he started to smile, and we both lost it in happiness. Then, he just suddenly hugged me and called me "Papa." I didn't think he meant that I was his father. It was just how kids were. They used the words they knew when they spoke, and at that time, he called me "Papa" and embraced me. He rested his round head on my shoulders, seeming to want to sleep, and I just held him. He was tired from all our playing and laughing, I guess. I still remembered his sweet baby smell. The faint scent of vanilla shampoo that Delly used on his hair. The slightly sour smell of milk clinging to his skin. His delicate and tiny baby clothes. And the soft mewls that he made when he fell asleep. I fell asleep on the floor with him, leaning my back on the couch while little Timothy rested on my chest. When I woke up, Katniss lay sideways on the couch behind us, one of her hands resting on little Timothy's back and the other on my shoulders. After that, I couldn't shake the feeling of hoping for our own child.

I brushed the feelings away days later because I felt like I was a hypocrite to Katniss. I've been reassuring her that she was enough for me all these years, and here I am harboring feelings for another dream. I threw myself at bakery work with a vengeance, focusing all my attention on the cafe, sketching various layouts, and designing menus. I baked like crazy, inventing recipes we didn't need at the moment. I tried as much as possible not to think of vanilla shampoos, tiny baby clothes, and tender little breaths. When mothers with babies came to the bakery, I made an excuse to get something at the back. When I saw kids playing on the street, I walked on the other side, so I only needed to give them a wave and not stay awhile for chit-chat or arm swings.

It was working, and I finally felt like my old self, but then I had a dream of Katniss in the meadows holding our child. It was like my mind retaliated against shoving the thoughts aside. If I couldn't bring the contemplations to my conscious life, then they would come out in my unconscious life -- a.k.a. my sleep. I wish I could say it was a nightmare, but it wasn't. I woke up with warm, fuzzy feelings that morning. And even the mornings after. I was happy, but I was also heartbroken and mad at myself. The more I tried not to think about it during the day, the more vivid and blissful my dreams were at night. Nothing was as captivating and soothing as seeing Katniss in the meadows, breastfeeding our baby. In my dreams, she would look at me with her stormy gray eyes and a peaceful smile as she nourished our child. The picture was so beautiful, Katniss was so beautiful, and our baby was so beautiful. I wanted to go back to sleep the very moment I woke up just to relish the feelings longer. I felt awful, though. So freaking horrible because Katniss was asleep beside me in bed every time I woke up. She would give me a good morning kiss and look at me with so much affection, but all I wanted was to go back to my dream where another Katniss was waiting for me. Katniss, the mother of my child. I was so fucked up. I hated myself.

I know Katniss noticed the changes in me. She would ask me what was wrong or give me this concerned look when I would zone out. If we were walking together in town and there were kids or a couple with a child between them along our path, I would involuntarily squeeze Katniss' hand. My heart simply ached when I saw children. I had these questions about how it would feel if I was in their parent's shoes. How would it feel like walking hand in hand with my son, swaying him between Katniss and me? How would it be like taking my daughter to school or braiding her hair because fathers could do that too, right? How would it be during birthdays? What cake would my son request when he turns seven? What questions would they ask? Will they be as stubborn and resilient as their mother? Will they be interested in the bakery? How would our lives change the first moment we would lay our eyes on our child? With every question, my insides clenched and ached, and I swear I wanted to cry sometimes. I did once in my painting room when it was too much. It just hurts. I scolded myself for being so uncontrolled after. The emotions of just wanting something so much but not seeing how it could work out or worse, agreeing that it was best to not have it in the first place was agonizing. Every time Katniss smiled at me or hugged me or kissed me, I felt like a fake. I felt like I was lying to her. And I was. I was even so ludicrous that when we were in bed and making love, I had momentarily wished that maybe a slip would happen and we would be pregnant. I was so fucking selfish in those times, and I hated myself even more. It was unfair. It was wrong.

How could I have those thoughts about Katniss? She needs to be on board with this decision -- which we already agreed on years ago. My skin crawls at my hypocrisy. I have to talk to Katniss about this. She's the only person in the world that I want to talk to about my feelings about bringing a baby into our lives. I know that she would understand me and set me right.

….……………..

Lies and Realizations

(Katniss’ POV)

Peeta's been hiding something from me. I know I'm not the perceptive one between the two of us, but the changes in him are just too evident to hide. Try as he might, Peeta is such a poor liar and is innately good that when something is wrong with him it just spills out.

While asleep, he would have this contented expression -- peaceful and quiet like our afternoons in the meadow. It was like all his worries were resolved. I loved watching him like that when he slept. He was just so beautiful. He carried a soft smile, and his breathing was calm. Sometimes I even see him have an eager smile, and then he would say my name. I would press a kiss on his forehead on those nights, sometimes even a kiss on his lips, because I couldn't resist. But when he wakes up, something shifts. Happiness would shine when he opened his eyes, but after I kissed him, his lips would grow cold, or there would be a momentary freeze as if he realized something terrible. Then he would try to hide it by burying his forehead on my neck and kissing me there. But his kisses felt different. One time he even said the word "Sorry" after a kiss. It was so faint, and he thought I didn't hear him, but I did. What was Peeta apologizing for so early in the morning? What is happening to my husband?

I tried to cast aside the feelings first because I trusted Peeta. If something was wrong, I knew he would tell me. Our vow spans fifteen years now. Sure, our toasting was impulsive, and we didn't plan to have it in the middle of the night on some random day, but we both knew we wanted to do it. It was like what he said in the interview during the Quarter Quell, we wanted to make our love eternal, so we did. We vowed to love each other, honor each other, make each other happy, and provide for each other's needs. His hijacking, my depression, and all our fears were things we fought fiercely so that they won't come between us. None of them was above our love. Together, we would forge a strong marriage. Always.

But something is gnawing on Peeta now, and he is not telling. I have to find out and help him.

I have an inkling of what it might be, but I have to be sure before talking to him. Knowing him, I don't want to scare him or make him push his feelings aside because I know he will prioritize me above everything else. That's just so Peeta. Putting himself last so he could make everyone happy. Make me happy. He loves me so much, and he tells me so every single day and opportunity he gets. I can only wish he knows how much I love him back. He is my life. My love. My everything.

I started noticing the changes a few months ago. Peeta would vary his path going to work or squeeze my hand at random times of the day when we were together. We would walk in town eating ice cream, then suddenly, I would feel him stiffen for a split second as if something ached inside him. I would look at him and ask him what was wrong, but he would just brush it away and give me some small reason. Reasons like the hot weather, which he never complained about before ever. Or that his prosthetic leg had buckled, which he never said anything about, even when we would take the long hike to the lake. We would trek for four hours straight every Sunday, and never once did he say that his prosthesis would "buckle." What did "buckle" even mean? To give him the benefit of the doubt, I would give his leg a massage when we got home to make sure he was all right. He would be very thankful after, and then he would retreat to his painting room. He would go there to sketch or draw up ideas. Doing art relaxed him, and he would show me his paintings or sketches after. It has been a long time since he has shown me any of his works. I'm welcome to come to his painting room, but I never did unless he asked me to. I do it out of respect for him. Peeta needed his own space, just like I needed my woods every day.

The very clue that convinced me was my visit to the bakery three weeks ago. Mothers love handing Peeta their babies. I guess they figured out years before that between Peeta and me, it was Peeta who would welcome the tiny living creatures with open arms. They would lift their babies over the counter so Peeta could hold the gurgly little things while they filled their baskets with bread and pastries. He would coo and make faces at the baby and everyone in the bakery would smile from hearing the baby giggle so much. It warmed everyone's hearts. It warmed my heart to see him so happy and enjoying himself. But lately, he would go to the back to fiddle with something or make a call when a mother came in with her child. Peeta would never pass up the opportunity to hold a baby before, but now he seemed to be avoiding them entirely. We would still babysit little Timothy when Delly and Thom needed help, but aside from little Timothy, Peeta was staying away from all children, it seemed.

When things become too hard to sort out, I go to the woods. One way or the other, I always get answers in the woods. Sometimes, I go to my father's lake to talk to him and seek his advice. His body may be long gone in the mines, but I know his soul and spirit live in the woods. I knew he met Peeta before he died. My father would trade with Mr. Mellark, and we would get fresh bread every three days. Peeta was always with his dad in the kitchen, kneading dough or just watching him decorate cakes until he was assigned the job himself.

It warms my heart to know Peeta and my father crossed paths. I still wish he is here to see Peeta as my husband. I think he would have liked the boy with the bread and would tell me that I made a rare catch.

While in my father's lake, I ponder everything that has happened to Peeta's life so far. I am not the introspective type between the two of us, but living with Peeta taught me a thing or two about contemplating life. I remember how Peeta acted when he was younger, living in the bakery with his loving father and a witch of a mother. How he had two older brothers he wrestled with. He loved his brothers, and he would tell me this over dinner. Talking about his family helped him heal. Peeta became an orphan when he was just seventeen. He lost his family when the Capitol firebombed Twelve on that horrific day. He didn't know it at the time as he was being tortured by Snow. He came back to me slowly. I could still hear him asking to let him die during our Capitol mission. He pushed me away to protect me because he went mutt on me at the hospital. I'm glad I still had the good sense to not give him the nightlock pill. I was half-mad at that time, but I knew one thing then: Peeta needed to live. He came back to me after the war, albeit still sick from the hijacking. They gave up on him.

How preposterous that they gave up on the kindest, most generous, and self-sacrificing person in all of Panem. They just put him on the train and left him in his house to die from his tortured mind. He couldn't be expected to heal by himself alone. He needed people to help him sort out what was real and what was not real.

I resented the new Panem then; I still resent them to some degree because of it. Slowly and with much resistance from my help, Peeta let me in. He came back to me. I still feel the warmth of his palm on my forearm the first time that he voluntarily touched me. We were sitting on his porch just watching the rain pour on the earth and make puddles, not speaking but just letting the time go by. He just placed his hand on my right forearm as he did before on the train and said nothing. When the rain stopped, he removed his hand and then said the softest thank you before going back inside his house. I considered it a win then and never doubted that Peeta could fully recover his memories.

We grew back together. He started baking again, bringing me cheese buns in the morning. He took care of the primroses in the garden. He held me on the first night he was conscious enough to recognize my screams. After that, he stayed with me every night. There hadn't been one night when we hadn't slept on the same bed (or couch or carpet) for fifteen years. Starting his own bakery again brought so much joy to Peeta. I was so proud of him for keeping the legacy of his family alive. Those were blissful years. It felt like nothing could dampen our day.

Except for one thing -- having a baby. The only thing that brought us real conflict was talking about starting a family. Peeta would reason with me, and I would explain or yell at him. We would go back and forth, tossing the ball to each other without respite. He was kind and calm all the time, and it was me who would lose my composure because my fears were just too great. In the end, it was always Peeta that would concede for my well-being. He was the one who stopped asking five years ago. We talked about it one last time, and he said that he had finally accepted what I wanted. He granted every wish of mine for years except that one. It took him a decade to come to terms with it, and we were both comfortable with our decision. We both agreed that many things in life made us happy and that having each other was the ultimate joy. He loved me, and I loved him. After everything we both went through, that was enough. More than enough. But now, I think Peeta has a change of heart.

I guess I knew that this would have happened anyway. Peeta would be perfect as a father. And Peeta, being an orphan, sure longs to have a family of his own. A family with me.

I sigh deeply at the realization of what I had withheld from him all these years. I'm still afraid, extremely, but I guess I should have realized earlier that Peeta would hold my hand no matter what. He stayed with me all these years and through every situation. Nothing was beneath him when it came to me. He loved me, pure and simple. And now I look at how much I didn't love him back. This was one longing Peeta held on to, and I was too selfish to see it. I let my fear blind me. I didn't factor in the effect Peeta would have on me. We're always better when we faced our demons together.

My Peeta. My poor husband. How incredibly long have I refused him, have crushed his heart out of fear? He must be so miserable denying himself such simple happiness because he put my needs first. I feel terrible overlooking this part of him. How can I call myself his wife? I have to fix this, and I hope it's not yet too late.

….………….

Resolution

(Peeta’s POV)

"Hey," I greet Katniss as she enters the bakery. "How was hunting?"

"Hey," she greets me back lazily with a warm smile. She's always so alluring when she returns from the woods. She carries its calmness and life with her every time. "I went to my father's lake."

“Oh yeah? That’s wonderful.”

"It was. I didn't bring anything back, though. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I grab a paper bag from the back and give it to Katniss. "Cheese buns?"

"For me?" she flirts. "Why not?"

Katniss eats the cheese buns with gusto. She savors the cheese oozing out of each bun as she bites into them. I've been baking like a madman this afternoon to ease my anxiety. I made her all kinds of cheese buns -- a batch filled in the center with three different kinds of cheese, another bunch with some paprika in it, and the third batch with pesto made from the herbs Katniss gathered yesterday. I have two more stashes for tomorrow which I will bake in the morning at home. Baking really does wonders for my nerves, and I calmed down substantially after doing it.

"Are you closing up soon?" Katniss asks after her third piece of cheese buns. She already guessed about the paprika that I added in the second batch. "I haven't made dinner yet, I'm afraid. I went straight here after the woods."

“It’s okay. I made a lot of cheese buns. Is that acceptable for dinner?”

"You don't even have to ask," she mumbles in between bites, then kisses my cheek with her cheesy lips. "I could eat this all day!"

“Good thing you married a baker, huh?”

“Best decision I made,” she teases. “By the way, we should go to the lake tomorrow. We haven’t gone there in two weeks. How about it?”

"Sure. I'd love that," I say and move in to claim a kiss. "Good thing I married a huntress."

She beams at me and gets another cheese bun. She really loves cheese.

We walk hand-in-hand on our way back to Victor's Village. It's Sunday tomorrow, and the bakery is closed, like every shop in District 12. We pass by some kids playing on the streets, and I try my hardest not to react to them. Instead, I focus on the warm cheese buns in my free hand and on the feeling of a small piece of paper tucked deep in my pants pocket. While waiting for Katniss at the bakery, I started making a list of reasons why Katniss is more than enough for me. I scribbled a couple so far before she arrived and I quickly hid the list in my pocket for later. I'll finish it at home after dinner. Katniss wouldn't suspect a thing as I usually make lists when we're sitting on the couch by the fire.

“I’ll take a shower first, okay?” Katniss tells me after we’ve settled down in the kitchen. I usually do the cooking except for days when there are too many orders at the bakery. Tonight, I don’t mind doing it. It will give me more time to work on my list while she showers.

"Okay. Take your time," I reply, and Katniss gives me a quick kiss and ruffles my hair. She knows that I love it when she does that. That's one more thing I have to add to my list.

When I hear the shower pour upstairs, I bring out the folded paper from my pocket.

'Reasons why Katniss is MORE than enough for me.' The word 'more' is underlined twice and written in bold letters for emphasis.

1. She loves me.

Nothing compares to being loved by Katniss Everdeen. She loves so fiercely and generously. What more can I ask for?

2. She brought me back from my hijacked state.

3. She saved my life so many times and in so many ways.

4. She’s the most patient when I try out new recipes. She doesn’t rush me like Haymitch. She just watches me and writes down the recipe as I go.

5. She kisses me every morning. Even with bad breath because there was a time we both loved having midnight snacks.

6. She brings me game and fruits and herbs and flowers from the woods. She forgot today, but that's nothing compared to fifteen years of gifting me every day.

7. Her voice. Need I say more?

8. She ruffles my hair like I have the most beautiful curls in all of Panem.

9. She lets me braid her hair on Sundays.

10. She encourages me to pursue my dreams — the bakery, the cafe, my art.

I rub my cheek as I remember how I got to exhibit some of my works twice because of her. I never imagined that in my wildest dreams.

11. She tells me she loves me EVERY day.

12. Her body.

13. She holds my father in high regard.

She traded with him, and I'm so thankful they met even briefly.

"Hey, Peeta," Katniss calls from the stairs, and I stash away my list. "I forgot, I brought you some wild apples. It's still in my hunting bag."

I scratch out 'She forgot' on number six of my list. She never forgets.

After dinner, we retreat to the living room to warm ourselves by the fire. It's not really cold today, but we love it nonetheless. Katniss is reading a book sent by Effie. She's been sending us classic books for a few years now, and Katniss is the one burning through them as I've been busy working on the cafe. I bring out my list and tuck it between my usual notebook to disguise it. I glance at Katniss, and she's buried in the old book. Good, I'm safe to write as many things I can on my list.

14. She loves bread and cake.

15. She lets me sketch and paint her.

16. She sings to me when I am sick or just tired.

"So serious." Katniss distracts me after a while and rubs her foot on my outer thigh. She's taking up most of the couch, leaning on the other end while her feet just brush my thigh. "It's Sunday tomorrow, Peeta. Just rest."

I give her a small smile and close my notebook to hide my list. “How about a foot massage?” I offer. I shift on the couch to remove her socks and start rubbing both her feet. I make a note to add this to my list.

17. She lets me massage her feet.

She lets out a deep sigh as I warm up her gorgeous feet with my big hands. I place my palms on either side of her right foot and gently twist it with just the right amount of pressure that she likes. The result is immediate, and she relaxes. She's a little tense from hiking to the lake, so I take my time to warm her feet up. Then I rub her arch, slowly running my thick thumbs along its length. Katniss has such deliciously slender feet that I take my time stroking them. Kneading them and caressing them with my full attention. I continue my smooth motion from the heel to the ball of her foot, shifting from soft to hard presses.

To my luck, I get rewarded with a throaty moan and a deep exhalation from Katniss. "So good," she tells me as her chest dips.

I can see that she already stopped reading her book but is still holding it up. The toes of her feet are a little ticklish, so I massage them lightly and slowly. It still tickles, she says, but at least she doesn't kick me or pull away her foot. I love seeing how my touches shoot signals up to her knees and hips, sending them off the cushion as her muscles contract. Sometimes she scrunches her eyes, and her foot curls as she restrains her natural reflexes.

I don't know what it is, but she's so exquisite to watch during these times. She’s seriously so sexy. I can't take my eyes off of her.

I try different massages on her feet, finding delectable pressure points that trigger spots around her body. I squeeze her heels firmly, then use my knuckles or fist to indulgently stroke her arches. I then airily tap my fingers all over her skin like fluttering kisses. She hates it when I grasp her Achilles tendon with my thumb and index finger, but I do it all the time to get a reaction from her. I make it up by sliding her loose sweatpants up and running my hands along her powerful calf. I stroke her firm muscles to build heat on her skin, then apply more and more pressure after, increasing the blood flow there. My blood flow increases somewhere too, just watching her.

The massage would have been better with oil, but the oils are all the way up in our bedroom, and I am in no mood to get them. Katniss closes her book later and lets it drop on the floor with a soft thump. She finds a more comfortable position, laying her back flat on the couch and resting her feet on my lap. She shifts her free foot near my crotch unconsciously before digging her head deeper onto the couch pillow. She takes a deep breath and then puts her right hand over her chest. Her neck is blushing red as she tries to calm her breathing.

"Peetaaa ...," she releases breathily. I take all my cues from Katniss and continue massaging her luscious feet. Most of the time, she likes her massages hard and lingering, her legs and feet needing deep stimulation because of all the walking she does in the woods. Other times, she just likes warming and rhythmic touches. I'm happy to oblige with both anytime.

When I'm done, Katniss is so cozy, that she's ready to go to sleep. "Katniss?" I coo and give the top of her feet delicate kisses. I've been resisting it while giving her the massage.

“Hmmm ….”

When Katniss doesn't move, I gingerly lift her up and carry her to our bedroom. I almost forgot my list and have to double back to get it.

"Peetaaa ..." She drags my name just under my right ear while I go up the stairs. Her voice radiates warmth all over my torso.

"I got you, love. Don't worry." She tightens her arms around my neck and nuzzles the skin there. I only get away with pet names when she's very sleepy. Otherwise, I get a scowl. I guess I have to add her scowl to my list too. As much as she gives it to me out of frustration, I still love it. I love every bit of Katniss. Even the things that annoy me, like unscrewed containers of spices or milk in scrambled eggs or mail half-opened and left on the kitchen table or bath towels left on the bed. I can't count how many times I exited the shower only to find out there were no towels. At first, I thought she did it on purpose. You know, so she can see me wet and naked after a bath, but more often than not, she's not there when I leave the bathroom. I just find two towels on the bed. One mine and one hers. I have to add those things to my list. Not the towel, but how much she drives me crazy and how she scowls at me. It's weird, but I love them.

I make a mental note.

18. Her scowl that I love so much.

19. Her quirks that drive me crazy.

I carefully lay Katniss on her side of the bed, tucking her under the covers, then I make my way to the bathroom for a shower. The list is still in my pant pocket, safe while I wash off the flour from my skin. It's been such a long day, but tomorrow will be longer. I have to be honest with Katniss. She needs to know what's going on with me.

Freshly bathed and loosened up by the warm water, I lift the covers and slide beside Katniss. She lays her head over my shoulder like every night, cupping my bare chest where she can feel my heartbeat. I linger on the lavender smell of her hair and skin.

"I love you, Peeta," she says sleepily before planting a kiss on my collarbone. She then puts one of her legs over mine, hooking her body against mine. She is perfectly melded on my side, and I feel so loved.

"I love you too, Katniss," I whisper back and kiss her dark hair.

"You're my world, Peeta … you make me so happy," she whispers while lightly rubbing her palm over my heart. I feel guilty all over again for all my uncontained thoughts of babies and starting a family.

I silently mouth ‘I’m sorry’ into the air of the room and squeeze her hand over my heart. Katniss is more than enough for me. I don’t need anything else.

Nightmares totally have a different hold on me. Or I should say, my hijacked brain and not my nightmares, have a dubious hold on me. My dream bit me like a venomous snake because I actually touched our baby in my sleep. It was the same picture of Katniss gracefully sitting by the meadow in a flowing green summer dress that conveniently opens in front for breastfeeding. Normally, I would just watch from afar as my dream unfolds, but this time, I was right there beside Katniss, my right arm over her lean shoulders and my left softly on our baby's downy hair. I swear I could feel their weight and warmth on my palms, on my chest, and on my heart. I could unmistakably smell baby shampoo and milk. And I could vividly remember Katniss' expression of joy and peace. She was so radiant, and I felt so complete holding my world in my arms. I woke up with warm, fuzzy feelings all over my body again but quickly brushed them away. I can't indulge in these sensations. I still have an hour before Katniss rouses, so I carefully untangle myself from her body. I need to get this image out of my head and also finish my list.

I put on a worn-out shirt and go to my painting room, dragging my loose pajamas on the floor and clutching my list in my left hand. I turn on the lamp beside my work table. Then I sit in front of my easel that holds a painting I have been working on. I know Katniss doesn't come to this room unless I ask her, but I still cover this painting for fear that she may glance at it while passing by. That would be a disaster when it happens. I reread my list and added a few more things to it.

I must have been so engrossed in my thoughts because when I heard Katniss call my name, she was already in the hallway, only a few feet from the door. I panic and hastily hide the list under the cloth covering my recent painting in front of me. I brush my hair without purpose, trying to search my brain for what to say to Katniss when she comes into the room.

“Peeta?”

"I'm here," I say, failing terribly to sound normal. I turn around on my stool to face the door. "I'll be right out."

"Peeta?" she says again, but this time she's standing at the doorway. "Did you have a nightmare?"

‘No, I had a very pleasant dream, actually, ' I say in my head. "Yeah," I lie instead.

"Did you paint it already?" she asks with her raspy morning voice. She knows me so well. I need to paint my nightmares so they stop.

"Ummm …," I offer, and my lack of a clear answer worries her. She walks towards me, enveloping me in her arms. She feels so soft and comfortingly warm as she embraces me.

"I'm okay now, Katniss," I lie again. "We can go back to bed now." I pull her off of me and cradle her cheeks between my two hands. I offer her a weak smile and kiss her forehead. She nods, then embraces me again. We stay entwined for a few more minutes until I feel her hand move behind me as if reaching for something. I hold my breath.

"What's this, Peeta?" she asks and holds up my list near the light. Shoot. I didn't hide it well enough. The next thing I knew, the cloth behind me fell to the floor, revealing my painting.

"Um ... umm …," I offer feebly.

Katniss rubs my arms and then walks towards the easel. It holds a painting of her by the meadows breastfeeding our baby. It's my favorite dream but one I felt most guilty of. I didn't know why I thought it would work, but I'd been secretly painting them, hoping the dream would stop, just like my nightmares before.

"Are there more?" Katniss asks with a raspy voice. I steal a look at her and catch her soft gray eyes, she's not mad, so I go ahead and show her the rest. In total, I have four paintings done already. They're all from the same dream, but I rendered different parts. One was Katniss' careful arms holding our baby over her chest, another our baby's small pink hands, then just soft, yellow swaddle cloth, and another just the meadow with its golden sunset. I don't offer Katniss any explanation as she thoughtfully observes them. She touches each one, her fingers lingering on the tiny baby hands I painted on a big canvas.

"Katniss?" I ask after a while. I'm so terrified that she would plummet into depression, the paintings triggering her long-time fear. "I wanted to talk to you about it … I was going to tell you later …"

She puts her fingers over my lips, silencing me. “How long?”

I won’t lie to her anymore.

“Four, five months. Since Delly and Thom had us babysit little Timothy.”

Katniss just nods her head once and lets out a shallow breath. She's just standing there in front of me, her eyes softly looking at me, but they are unreadable. My heart is thumping out of my chest, my tears building out of nervousness. I feel hot and cold all at the same time. "I'm sorry, Katniss," I begin and try to hold her gaze, but my eyes betray me with tears. "I'm sorry … I didn't mean to …," I sob.

"Sssshhh … Peeta …," she coos and hugs me tightly. I'm trembling, and I can't help it.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss ... I know … you're scared …" I gulp for air.

"And I understand. You're … " I can't breathe. "You're more than enough for me … You make me so happy," I ramble on in between sobs and hiccups.

Katniss is all I need. I know that now more than ever.

"Peeta …," she begins while running her palms over my back. "That's not true, and we both know it."

"No, it is," I say in earnest and hug her tighter. "You're all that I need. You're my world. Please, you have to know that."

"And you are mine." She pulls back and cups my face with both her hands. "You are my world too, you understand? I want to make you happy," she says, her voice so incredibly tender.

“I am happy … I just need more time … I’m sure I’ll forget …”

"Peeta, you're not, and you shouldn’t." She pulls me back and rests her forehead on my chin. "I want to make you happy. Completely happy."

"Katniss, please …," I plea, pouring all my love into her at this moment.

"I want to try." She exhales to my chest, her warm breath seeping through my cotton shirt. "Let's try starting a family."

"But Katniss … you don't ..."

"No buts, Peeta," she cuts in and bunches my shirt with her right hand and I know she's trying to be strong. I feel her squeeze her eyes shut. "I'm still scared, Peeta. But you will take care of me, right?" she says with a quiver in her voice. I can't believe my ears, and I am shocked into stillness.

"Peeta?" she calls, then looks up to my face. She's peaceful, afraid but with resolve. "I want to try having a baby with you. Build a family. I'm so scared, though, Peeta ... but I know it will make you happy. You will be with me all the way, all right?"

"Always"

My tears continue on, but I feel my body relax with her palms over my chest. I’m crying from happiness.

"I love you. Now come and kiss me." A small smile laces her eyes, and I know this is real. We are going to try having a baby. It will happen. My dream is suddenly happening.

“I love you, Katniss. You make me so happy. You’re my everything,” I say with every ounce of my being.

“Kiss me already, Peeta.”

And I do. I did it in between laughs and sobs and hiccups and with trembling hands on Katniss' jaws. I was giddy with joy and excitement for our future together. Katniss is more than enough for me. So much more than what I deserve in a hundred lifetimes, maybe not even then. I add one more important thing to my list.

20. She wants to start a family with me.

Katniss then picks up a pen and scribbles something on my list.

21. Katniss Everdeen has Peeta Mellark. Her love.

-- Fin --

#promptsinpanem #fivetenfifteen #specialchallenges #dandelionlovesyou

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agoracactus · 4 years ago

Text

Pt. 9.5 - The Blood Mage

so im here to explain what happened after reader left Geralt, but it gets pretty dark (see warnings), if u dont wanna read it but still wanna know what happened, ill do a family friendly summary at the very end, scroll and look for this ▲△▲△▲△ dividing line

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.4.5 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

Word Count: 4110 - summary excluded

Warnings: besides the standards, blood, gore, indication of sacrificial ritual against children (yes im a monster)

Tag list: @theojuicee @ayamenimthiriel @imthesnowinthedark @distinguishedkryptonitecreator

You stood there, watching him disappeared into the woods, cold air wrapping tightly around your body.

Was it getting cold? Or was it your blood drawing away from the surface of your skin, wanted to crawl inside and hide there and never come out?

When you realized it, you were already walking away. Tears blurring your sight, hitched breaths blocking your hearing, you stumbled forward, don’t know where you’re going--- you just wanted to get out, you had to.

You tripped and fell, and you just lay there, panting from the emotion that’s gripping your chest.

How could he say such things? You cared about him so much, yet he returned it with sharp blades of words. Manipulating him? How dare he? You were merely helping, trying to steer him away from the tragic events that would happen to him! Did he ever say ‘thank you’ for your effort of trying? No. He complained. He Accused you for being a ‘jinx’.

You sat up. The darkness had already crept in in between the trees. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, the shock and the sadness faded into anger. You stood up.

Fine, you’re leaving. You don’t need him anyway. You could go back to Yen, she would take you in. You would live a way better life than before- Hell, you don’t even need Yen. You can take care of yourself. You will go on your own adventure and perhaps meet someone better than that stupid, stubborn asshole.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been walking, or where were you walking to. It was dark everywhere, and your human eyes could barely made out anything- probably even less than what you usually could due to your now puffy eyes.

You started to hear the different sound of the night forest, the cracking of the dry twigs, the chirping of what you assumed of the crickets, the rustling of the trees, and perhaps the howling of some wolves far away.

Suddenly, a scream pierced through the darkness of the forest.

You tensed up, ready to run if any danger come towards you.

“HELP!”

You heard it loud and clear. You quickly drew out your shotgun, ran to the source of the sound.

It wasn’t hard to locate where you should go, there was a faint glow not so far away in the woods. As you were getting closer, you saw a circle of glyphs giving out a brown-ish red glow, in the center lay a shape that seemed to be a body of a child. Beyond the circle, not too far away, was a ghoul.

“Help me! Help!” Someone up in the tree shouted desperately, seeing you appeared from the dark. You stopped in the circle of glyphs, aimed the shotgun at the ghoul that was growling up at the poor man and pulled the trigger.

The ghoul took a few shot before it went down and stopped moving completely.

“Are you ok?” you poked the dead ghoul with the gun barrel to make sure it’s really dead, and said to the man, “You can come down now, it’s dead.” “Oh thank you kind stranger!” the man swiftly climbed down, he was wearing a cloak with dark stains at the bottom edge. “I would have been dead if not for you, I owe you my life!” “What happened here?” you asked, stepped into the circle once again to check the pulse of the child. You noticed the boy had several cuts on his arms and legs, and a mark of branding on the inside of his wrist that you couldn’t quite make out the design with the dim light from the glyphs.

“...Fascinating...” You heard the man gasped in awe. “Hm?” gotten distracted from inspecting the branding further more, the thought slipped from your mind, “The kid is dead.” you stood up. “Yes yes, poor child. His parents brought him to me for treatments, but the monster showed up. I tried to put up a protection sphere for him but he’s badly wounded...” the man lowered his head with remorse. “You’re a healer?” you stepped out of the circle. The man glanced at your feet and the glyphs, “I’m a worshiper of the arcane, a student in the knowledge of unknown.” he bowed his head slightly, “Sadon Olbrecht, at your service.” “Y/n.” you replied, found yourself having some trouble trusting him, but couldn’t put your finger on it.

“What a lovely name! And what brought you here deep in the woods in such late hours?” “Um, well, I um, lost.” you avoided the eye contact, remembering the reason why you were deep in the woods late at night. “Oh I live near by! You are more than welcome to come stay overnight, and I can show you the way to the highway tomorrow!” he lit a lantern--- that came out of nowhere. “It’s this way!” he lift up the lantern to see better ahead. “...” you took a look back at the direction you assumed you came from--- it’s too dark to tell--- “Sure. Lead the way.”

It didn’t take long before you saw that stone made house. “Here we are!” Sadon picked up the pace, “We don’t have much, but it’s our humble home.” “We?” you glanced at the dark windows. “Yes. Come come!” he quickly pushed open the wooden door. You hesitated, one hand reached back and clutched on the pistol.

You stepped in. It was dark, the smell of decay and dampness rushed into your nostril. “Sadon?” you couldn’t see anything. Something wasn’t right. You turned, wanted to walk back out.

Then a heavy strike hit you in the back of your head. You fell unconscious.

It was cold, dark, humid, stank of dirt and mold.

And blood.

So much blood.

Fresh, not fresh, they all mixed together into a protruding smell.

You were leaning against the cold stone wall, hands chained to the wall, another pair of heavy manacles on your ankles. There’s no window in this room, the only time when you could see anything was when Sadon were in the room, then he would light all the candles--- there were so many candles, black and red. When there’s no light, it’s pitch black. So dark that you often wondered if your eyes were actually opened.

It hurt everywhere, to a point that you couldn’t feel pain anymore. You used to complain so much about even the smallest cut, would wine about your sore back every few minutes. But you stopped thinking about the pain now. Your brain learned to ignore it after a while. You tried to get some sleep, but your body was aching and stiff--- in fact, your brain couldn’t even tell if you’ve slept.

And the noises. The sobbing and crying and moaning from below.

The kids.

You didn’t know who they were, but you know there were several of them. Sadon kept them separated from you, in the camber below. You saw him carrying sacks downstairs a couple of times, took some time before you realized that those were the kids. He probably kidnapped them somewhere, put them to sleep for transportation.

You’re glad that you didn’t know these poor children.

You heard the rustling of the keys, and the squeaking of the metal door. Light poured in from the door at the far side of the chamber, a pair of feet came down the stone stairs.

“Good evening!” he greeted you delightedly and started lighting the candles with the candlestick he brought down. There was a large stone pedestal in the middle of the chamber, few metal hooks sticking out on the sides, with runes carved all around it and it was covered in deep maroon. The runes ran down the pedestal, to the stone floor, and formed a circle.

Sadon finished lighting up the room, set the candlestick down on the side of the pedestal “I really have a good feeling today, perhaps success is near the corner!” You could hear the sincere excitement in his voice, and it only sickened you more.

He took the chain of keys, and unlocked the hatch to the basement. You chewed on the inside of your mouth, hearing the children crying. You saw a little boy being dragged up, manacles chained on his skinny wrists and ankles. The boy was trying all he can to fight, but Sadon as a grown man was way stronger than him. He threw you desperate gazes, but there was nothing you could do. You watched him being dragged to the pedestal, manacles on his wrists hooked to one side and the ankles were hooked to the other side.

Then Sadon brought a dagger and a small goblet to you. He knelt down beside you, took the dagger and cup a deep slit in your upper arm. You turned your head away, gritted your teeth so hard you felt like you were going to shatter your jaw. He caught your blood in the goblet and brought it back to the boy, who was laying on the pedestal, panting in fear.

You shut your eyes, trying to close off all your senses.

The pure one.

That’s how Sadon addressed you. How disgusted you were when you heard that.

He said he’s a blood mage. You knew that’s bullshit from the time you’ve spent with the witcher and the sorceress, and the knowledge they fed to you.

Sadon was just a demon worshiper, who was deluded about how he has a connection with the “demon lord”. He told you that he would one day break the barrier between the two worlds and bring his lord to this realm, and together they would bring the world to greatness. And he believed that your blood is the key to his grand plan.

You didn’t even care about the sanity of his mind.

How long have you been in here? How many rituals have you witnessed? How many young lives were perished, tragically and painfully in front of your eyes? The scenes, the sounds, they haunted your dreams. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if you were dreaming or the ritual was actually happening.

At first you were so mad, you screamed, you struggled. You tried to fight your way out of this, but you were nothing without your weapons.

You were nothing without your witcher.

You overflew your mind with the witcher.

His voice, his frown, his grunt, his smirk. What was he doing while you were stuck here, suffering? Did his mind ever come across you after you parted ways? Was he worried about you?

Then you banned him out of your mind, kicked the image the sound the phantom warmth of his out of your brain as many times as you needed.

You prayed. Prayed for all these were just a bad dream, prayed that Geralt would be looking and saved you from this hellhole. You cursed, cursed your bad luck, curse your immunity, cursed for you trusting a stranger and take him for his words. Disappointed- desperate about the absence of

Till there’s nothing left for you to do but to wait.

Wait for the final fate to find you.

The chamber has grown cold.

You were the one laying face up on the pedestal, staring up at the ceiling. There hanged a rusty chandelier, covered in dust and webs. The thought of it falling and killing you and ruining the ritual flashed through your mind, brought you a slight amusement. You were even more amused at how you were coming up sick jokes when death was staring you right in the face. In fact, you had to suppress the urge to laugh.

Few kids were kneeling on the ground, forming a circle around the pedestal. You couldn’t tell how many of them were there--- you were too weak to turn your head to look--- you guessed that they were probably the last ‘stock’ Sadon had in his little basement. You could hear them sobbing, the silver instruments Sadon made them held were making soft tinkling sound with their shaky hands.

The temperture dropped more. Or maybe it’s you losing blood.

You heard Sadon’s chanting, heard him moving around in his elegant robe. You fought to keep your eyes open, but the eyelids were growing heavy.

You were scared.

Is this it? Are you really going to die? What’s beyond ‘death’? Will you return to your world? Would Geralt miss you, at all?

You were not ready to go. But the darkness was creeping in from the corner of your vision.

A voice crept in as darkness consumed you. It souded like several people talking at the same time, in different pitch, but merged in one.

“What do you wish?”

You found yourself standing--- or perhaps, floating, in this darkness. The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere.

“We could give you anything you want.”

You looked around, then you weren’t sure if you were actually looking.

“I want to live.” you found yourself talking, heard your voice coming from all around you.

“Pay the price.”

The voice echoed in the space.

“I have nothing.”

“Give us what’s most precious to you.”

A dark shape emerged from the dark. You didn’t know how you’re seeing it without light, but the presence was strong. You saw it extended it’s hand, expecting a hand shake.

You closed your eyes, still seeing the darkness.

“Give it.” “Give it.” “Give it.”

The voice now split into several whispers, coming from different directions.

You saw yourself slowly raising your hand, slowly, reaching that extending arm. Faintly, you heard your voice, telling you to stop, to think this over, to be smart.

A face flashed into your mind, the pair of eyes that would usually filled with warmth were painted in cold bitterness.

You held onto the arm.

A burning sensation burst out on the inside of your forearm. A shape was glowing, and eating your flesh away. You screamed.

The whispers ceased.

“You are ours now.”

The darkness faded. You were on your bare feet, panting. Most of the candles were out, the only ones still burning were the ones on the pedestal behind you.

Your saw your shadow casting on the ground, and drew up to the wall, swaying, with the low burn candlelight. The thick substance that’s covering the ground, glistening with the flickering light. You tried to move your feet, but your foot kicked something.

An arm. Children’s.

You slowly glanced around, eyes barely made out the scattering pieces of what you assumed, human body. The smell of gradually decaying flesh filled your nostril, your brain slowly started working.

What happened?

You saw Sadon, half of his head were by the wall, expression frozen on absolute horror.

The metal door screaked. You turned, and saw two figures standing at the top of the stairs. In their eyes, were those horror? Shock? Perhaps wonder?

You didn’t get to find out. In a flash, the smaller figure of the two rushed towards you. And before you could react, a blunt hit in the back of your head. You were back into darkness again.

▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲the family friendly dividing line▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲

Summary

You left Geralt after the fight when the night was falling. Frustrated and disappointed at what happened, you got lost.

Deep in the woods, you came upon a man who named Sadon, he was being attacked by a ghoul, after killing the ghoul, he offered somewhere safe to stay for the night in return. He attacked you and knocked you out after arriving at his stone made house.

It turned out that he was a demon worshiper, and claimed to be a blood mage. He made sacrifices of children who he kidnapped at the nearby village to pay tribute to his dark lord. He believes that the rituals he’s doing granted him power, and one day he would be powerful enough to summon the demon king to this realm, and together they would rule the world. And when you saved him in the woods, he found out that magic doesn’t take effect on you. He believed that you were the key he needed for his grand scheme. So he kidnapped you, and was waiting for the right time for his final ritual.

Sadon wasn’t wrong. Your blood was desired by the demons, as it could grant them power. The ritual was successful, just wasn’t as expected by Sadon. You made a deal with the demons, giving them your memory in exchange of immense power.

You woke up and found yourself standing, around you were Sadon and all the children who met a horrible death. Helvi’tar and Eyle opened the door to the basement of death, found you in complete confusion.

Then Eyle knocked you out.

#the witcher #gerlat of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you

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harringtonheartache · 4 years ago

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Daybreak | Part Twenty

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part twenty (wow!) of this fic. The mother-son relationship no one asked for but everyone needed. Nine’s gone and neither Steve nor Nine herself know how to deal with it.

Word Count: 2,175 -ish

Warning(s): Cussing

A/N: Sorry if this is a little short compared to my other recent chapters, but nevertheless, enjoy! <3 all of you guys, your sweet little comments make me so happy (-:

Steve sat unmoving on the floor of the Byers’ home, hands against the wooden flooring, knees bent before him in the same position he’d landed when he fell back. His chest heaved a few times as he looked, blankly, at the wall in front of him.

Joyce, for a hesitant moment, was achingly unsure of her own presence. She looked to the wall, to the floor, to the boy sitting there in her living room. It took her a minute to jumpstart herself, but after that she circled around the recliner and sat behind him silently. She lifted a hand, a little shaky from the chaos, and placed it consolingly on his shoulder.

He didn’t move, but the tears started; quiet but hot against his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” a hushed murmur from behind him said.

And so he folded; unable and unwilling to let his sadness swell in silence. He dropped backwards into Joyce’s lap and she welcomed him, hugging his shrinking frame to herself as he let himself cry.

She rubbed his back, a tender hand up and down the length of his curled composure. She wanted to console him properly, say the things she knew she was supposed to say. The “she’s okay, you’ll see her again” ‘s. The “we’ll find her” ��s and the “she’ll be back” ’s. All of the things she was told about her son. But she couldn’t stomach anymore patronizing, and so she said how she left instead. “I’m sorry.”

Nine woke up feeling cold. Joyce’s living room had been a mess, sure, but a perfectly temperate mess; colored lights strung from wall to wall to really sell the cozy atmosphere. The Byers’ house: the first place her mind drifted to in her haze between conscious and unconscious. Then a feeling of pressure — pure remembrance — a hold strong and warm on her own hand. That warmth fizzled out by the time she had fully dedicated herself to consciousness, and the chill took over her hand as it had the rest of her.

She rolled over, a plop against the damp ground, and her arm ached when she pressed it to the floor. Sharp pain made her breath hitch and then she groaned, eyes clamped shut, body rocking.

“Fuck.”

She let herself lay there for a minute, and looking around she understood the scale at which she existed in this new place. Around her was only darkness, and while individually concerning this was contextually a relief. The creature that had attacked the house was gone, seemingly never there.

No one was.

“Will?” she asked into the emptiness. It was almost a dumb thing to say, but she needed to hear her own voice again to convince herself that she was really there. Alive, alone, awake, there.

Nine hadn’t really wanted to get up. To stand, firstly and independently a chore in and of itself, would take energy she wasn’t yet willing to sacrifice. To then perhaps take a few steps in any direction (her choice, it would be the same no matter the decision) would only confirm her fears. And her fears were, of course, that she was lost. Misplaced in a gap of darkness and vanished from the world, her existence bordering on extinct.

“Steve?” A dumber thing to say, she knew this, but she called it out anyway.

The gravel that made up the Byers’ driveway crunched underneath Hopper’s truck. He stepped down, adjusting his hat to sit with more purpose, and walked up Joyce’s porch with a slowness reflective of his ignorance.

He knocked once, the steady sound of knuckles against wood, but the door opened promptly, leaving his declaration of arrival unfinished.

“Wha-”

“Come in,” Joyce said to him earnestly. A command, really.

She swung the door open now, an ushering hand lifting from her side. Hopper stared at her, a little rattled by her severe demeanor. Joyce had appeared in his office a number of occasions this past week, sometimes before he even got there, always with an unhinged vigor. She’d stand before him as he sat sluggish at his desk (the only time she’d be taller than him), and talk at a speed he often had trouble keeping up with so early in the morning. Now there was something more advanced about her composure; she had upgraded, still an intense presence, just perhaps with higher morale.

“Come in!” She said, wide eyes blinking at him as she swung her arm a second time.

“Jesu- okay,” he said, stepping forwards.

Steve sat on the couch with his head thrown down in his hands, unwilling to bother picking himself up to greet the sheriff. His eyes were closed; maybe trying to block out what was happening, maybe too apprehensive about opening them as it may encourage more tears. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be burdened with the sense of sight. Himself: slumped over rather pitifully on the couch, the living room: old phone book still on the floor from Joyce’s wrath, the wall: that long line over the wallpaper he had watched form as it sealed back up. He’d rather restrict himself to the darkness gifted by closed eyes.

“The hell has been happening here?” Hopper asked, doing a full 180 as he took in the catastrophe of a home.

“A lot,” Joyce said simply.

“Steve?” Hopper spoke, looking to the boy motionless on the couch, not entirely present. He got no response.

“Steve?” he said again, and this time Steve sat up. His legs were parted, once supporting his arms that were once supporting his head, and he tossed himself against the back of the couch. He bounced against the cushion then settled in, arms thrown in his lap in a standoffish manner.

“What the hell happened here?”

“What?” Steve started defiantly. “What, you wanted proof?” His head dipped to the side as he mocked curiosity. “You wanted proof that she had powers, right? Well I got another fuckin’ witness now.” One of his arms lifted as he motioned to Joyce, eyes stagnant on the sheriff.

“Steve-”

“No, she’s a witness. Go ahead, ask her. Since Nine’s not here to show you.”

“Can you just tell me what is going on?”

Steve sat forward again and his elbows rested on his knees.

“She’s fucking gone. But I guess you don’t care,” he said, head tilting to the side, “because now there’s one less person you have to question.”

Hopper stilled, drawing to memory who he was (surely) talking about. The girl he carried from that building, from those people in white lab coats. The girl Steve clinged to so desperately in the backseat of his car — yes, that one. The girl at the center of all of his problems, but maybe at the center of the solutions, too. Gone. A troubling choice of words.

“The… did the lab get her again?”

“The-” Steve stopped, pulling his lips into his mouth to bite. “Not the lab, the thing. The faceless goddamn thing from the forest! It took her, and she fell into some- some kind of void,” he said, his shoulders shrugging forward as he shook his head at his own words. “and chances are, I’ll never fucking see her again.”

He didn’t specify what he meant, didn’t want to burden himself with the thought process that would decide how feasible his fears were. “Never (fucking) see her again” — whether that meant she was dead or alive was up to Hopper to conclude. Steve didn’t want to give that question any more room to wander around his mind, and having to clarify that unknown outloud would be giving it too much room.

Hopper was unmoving. He looked to Joyce but her eyes were strictly on the ground.

“I- I’m sorry,” he began.

“Sorry?” Steve said, and he sat up again as his face shifted from irate to mournful. “I don’t want you to be sorry,” he spoke, and his once straight eyebrows furrowed. “I wanted you to do something! She told you detail by detail what happened and you just got in your car and drove away! Our job was to protect her, and sure, maybe I failed, but so did you!”

He stood up now, taller than Joyce, but not with enough height to quite make it to Hopper’s level. Still, he composed himself intensely, broad shoulders and stiff back. He took his best shot at an intimidating face, but it soon shrugged off his expression and the naturally dismal one returned; locked into place and unfleeting.

“You didn’t do anything.”

Nine sat up on her knees — half the commitment of standing — and the shallow water she had been dropped into rippled around her skin. With her movement came a wavering fog in the distance, something appearing but not quite ready to be seen. Her legs pushed forwards, quickly, so that she was taller, and she peered fervently ahead. From her mouth came a sound: the beginning of a question she didn’t know exactly the purpose of asking. “Wh-”

As if in response to her half-question, the fog became more dense. Glowing with a light without origin, colors became more clear and a shape began to form. Nine waited, eyes trained ahead, until the movement stopped again.

She finally stood up, all of the force in her body pushing her trembling legs from the ground one at a time. Water dripped from her frame as she rose, each drop making a little circle appear in the wetness below when it hit the floor. Her hands landed at her sides, swinging a little from the sudden movement, and she stood as she had sat: with expectant eyes. Your move.

The fog resumed and the shape became identifiable. It was a house: small and brown and familiar. Only having seen it once was enough for Nine to recognize the Byers’ residence.

She moved with strength she didn’t realize she had until now, arms swinging, breath rapid as she ran to the house in front of her, almost worried it would disappear if she weren’t quick enough to catch it. The gravel driveway was gone, replaced with the new texture of wet, and her feet splashed water up the length of her legs. She tossed the door open, one hand forcefully turning the knob and the other against the wood to push it open hard enough to knock into the wall behind it.

“Steve?”

An empty house. Joyce’s lights still hung from the walls but they weren’t on anymore, leaving the living room dark and dejecting. The couch, the reclining chair, the coffee table she had stumbled over before — all present but coated in a layer of gloom. Suddenly she felt like she should be in there.

Nine took a step backwards but didn’t turn around yet, eyes still darting from wall to wall, unwilling to give up hope where her brain had already. The porch creaked underneath her step and she stilled again, uneasy.

A humming noise started from a distance. A few notes, maybe a song, and this was much more unsettling than the sound of old wood. Finally Nine spun around and when she did the sound seemed to grow louder.

She didn’t move, unsure of where she’d even go. She entertained the idea of turning back around and retreating into the house to hide, but dropped it one she started to make out words from the sing-song humming.

“Should I stay or should I go?”

Sung small and with little strength, a pitch reached by a child.

“Hello?” she said, finally able to get a question out.

The humming paused as her word rang in echoes throughout the air. And then, a response: “Hello?” a voice mirrored her question, it’s tone jumping from hopeless to hopeful.

Nine gasped as if she didn’t expect the return, and her feet stalled as she began another step forwards.

“Will?”

Another long drag of silence, this time longer, but ended with a more started toss of words. “Help! Help me! I’m over here!” he said.

Her head was thrown from left to right as she tried to figure out where the sound was coming from. “I’m- I’m coming!” she shouted to nothing, hoping it would consol the little voice. She turned viciously when she spotted a minuscule light in the corner of her vision, and her feet took off in its direction, jumping the porch and splashing again in the water below. Running as quickly as she had towards the house, she breathed heavily; partly from exhaustion, partly from adrenaline. Her feet skidded when she reached the glowing figure: a small triangle, a feeble tent with an even more feeble sign reading “Castle Byers” in neat yellow paint.

“W-Will?” she asked it, bending down and pushing aside a blanket that acted as a door with her hand, gentle as she reached inside for a peek.

Sitting up from a curled composure: a modest ball of blankets in the center of the fort. A head poked out from the top, and a smile began to develop on its face.

“You came,” Will said with a full grin.

---

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#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #joe keery #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things 3 #jim hopper #Joyce Byers #will byers #st #st fic #st fanfic

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for-a-flower · 5 years ago

Text

Undertale

Alphys hurried down the hall to join Frisk. "Sorry about that!" she said. They walked together in the long hall. Frisk still didn't feel ready to meet Asgore. He was worried. "So . . . you're about to meet Asgore, huh?" said Alphys. Frisk nodded. Alphys glanced away. "You must be . . . pretty excited about all that, huh?"

Frisk shook his head. "No . . . I'm terrified," he said. The two walked in silence a moment.

Alphys’ reluctant response didn’t offer the encouragment the child had been hoping for. "Well . . . you'll finally get to go home!" Alphys said. As she shuffled along nervously, it was obvious neither of them were sure of the immediate future. They reached the elevator. Alphys stopped a few feet away and watched the doors open for him. Frisk stepped toward the doorway. Alphys held out a hand. "Wait!" she called.

Frisk glanced back. "What?"

Alphys scratched her head with a nervous grin. "Oh, I mean . . . I was just going to . . . um . . . say goodbye and . . ."

Frisk sighed and stepped away from the elevator. "What is it, Alphys? You might as well tell me.”

Alphys frowned. "I can't take this anymore," she mumbled. "I . . . I lied to you."

"Hu? About what?"

She lowered her head. "A human soul isn't strong enough to cross the barrier alone," she said.

"So . . . how am I ever supposed to leave?"

"It . . . it takes at least a human soul . . . and a monster soul."

Frisk stared. "What?"

Alphys slowly lifted her head with a frown. "If you want to go home . . . you'll have to take his soul. You'll have to kill Asgore." The child was speechless. All this time . . . and no one other than Chara and Flowey had told him to kill someone. What was he supposed to do? Alphys shook her head on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry," she said. She turned and ran, leaving the human alone by the closed elevator doors. After a moment, Frisk stepped toward the elevator. The door opened again. He walked in and pushed a button to take him to the highest level. The door closed and the elevator started upward. It seemed to take hours to get where it was going. Frisk sighed, his gaze glued to the floor in front of him. He didn’t like this. Maybe Flowey and Chara were right. In order for anyone to escape the underground, there seemed to be only two options . . . kill or be killed.

Frisk stepped from the elevator into a hall of brick. The path ahead was dull but more kept than the Ruins had been. Frisk moved onward by himself. In complete silence, the child continued down a long, empty street in the capital. He glanced around in confusion. Everything was quiet . . . like on one was around . . . like they had all left. But they had nowhere to go. Why would it be so empty? He turned left, following the street. He saw a high wall and an open gate ahead. Was this the castle entrance? Frisk passed through the opening into a smaller, enclosed area. He saw a small home with a wooden door and windows on either side. He stopped a few feet from the door as a frown crept across his face. This home was built nearly identical to Toriel’s in the Ruins. Frisk’s mind jumped back as he remembered Toriel happily leading him to her home. The brief memory was accompanied by a deep pain.

Frisk sighed and reluctantly opened the door. His mouth dropped open as the door slowly swung to the side. He felt tears coming but tried to hold them back. The home’s interior was exactly the same as Toriel’s as well, with one exception. It lacked color and life. It seemed empty, abandoned, and pretty much how Toriel's home probably looked now. Frisk shook his head, wiped his eyes, and forced himself to continue in. He glanced down a hall to the right then toward a dining room on the left. There were various Golden Flowers in vases and pots scattered around the house to bring some life to it. But there still seemed to be a lingering emptiness. Frisk approached a staircase which he knew led out of the house. A large chain with two locks blocked the entrance, but there was a note attached to it. Frisk read the note. 'Howdy! I'm in the garden. If you have anything you need to get off your chest, please don't hesitate to come. The keys are in the kitchen and the hallway.'

Frisk sighed. He was hoping to avoid walking through the whole home. "Don't make me do this," he mumbled. He left the main room and quickly entered the hall. He spotted the first key on a stand near the mirror. He started toward it but stopped at the first door on the left. Frisk glanced through the open door. There were a few differences with this bedroom. This one had two beds, one against the left wall and one by the right. There were several dusty children’s toys lying around. Frisk moved inside toward a shelf with a few things lying on it. There were a couple toys, a drawing of a Golden Flower and a rainbow, and a heart-shaped locket. Frisk picked up the locket. He couldn’t open it so he turned it over and read the words 'Best friends forever' on the back. Frisk smiled and put the object in a pocket. He glanced at the bed and nightstand against the left wall. His eyes locked onto a worn dagger, which lay on the stand beside the bed. Frisk froze in fear and regret. He stood a few feet from the knife, staring at it.

"You know what you have to do," said Chara.

Frisk lowered his head to hide his face. He sat on the bed, sniffling. ‘No. I can't kill anymore. I can't make myself do it,’ he thought.

"Don’t you want to get out of here alive? Pick up the knife and use it!"

‘Why did you come back? Go away. Stop making me feel like this.’

"You don't know what or who Asgore is. What if he is a monster . . . an awful one. Would you let him live? Would you spare his life?"

Frisk scowled. "I don't know!" he shouted. He wiped tears from his eyes. Several seconds passed as the human calmed himself. "Just . . . let me make my own choices without bothering me about them." Quiet. A few minutes passed. Frisk's head was down, hair covering his eyes. He let out a sigh then lifted his left hand and reached over to grasp the dagger’s handle. He could feel Chara's following excitement. Frisk lifted his head, a frown on his face. "I'm not doing this because you told me to," he said. "I'm doing it because I need a way to protect myself. I won't kill him with it."

"It's a weapon. That's what it’s for," said Chara.

Frisk slid off the bed. "No . . . it’s not. Not to me. Not anymore." He left the room and rushed down the hall. He snatched the key and paused to look in the mirror. He was a complete mess, egg in his hair and drops of milk splattered over his striped shirt . . . not fit to meet the monster king. However, he didn't have much of a choice.

“Despite everything . . . it’s still you,” said Chara. Frisk turned around to head back to the main room, but there was a Froggit sitting on a colorless rug before him. For a second, he thought it would attack, but the frog creature instead spoke to him.

"A long time ago, a human fell into the Ruins. Injured by her fall, the human called out for help," it croaked. The Froggit then hopped aside to allow Frisk to pass. Confused, Frisk stepped around it and hurried to the kitchen. As he passed through the dining room, noting two large and two small chairs at the wooden table. He entered the kitchen and found another key on the counter. He put both on the key-chain of his phone then read a second note on the kitchen counter. 'Howdy! Help yourself to anything you want!' it said. Frisk shook his head and kept moving. He stopped again when a Whimsum fluttered through the kitchen doorway.

"Asriel, the king's son, heard the human's call," it said softly. "He brought the human back to the castle." Frisk stared at the bug creature in confusion. The Whimsum shyly retreated out of the way. Frisk ran by it to the staircase and unlocked the chain's. They dropped to the floor with a loud clang. The child rushed down the first few steps and almost tripped on a couple Moldsmols.

"Over time, Asriel and the human became like siblings. The King and Queen treated the human child as their own. The underground was full of hope," said one.

"Why are you telling me this?" Frisk asked them.

"This is the tragic tale of our people," the other replied. "We were told to gather and tell you." They slid out of the way to let Frisk continue. He passed them. This must be the story Undyne was going to share before. Frisk wasn't sure he wanted to hear this right now but he was curious about it. The human entered a tunnel below the house and slowed when he looked ahead. Monsters of all kinds had gathered along his path. Some monsters he recognized, some he didn't. Some of their kinds he had killed, others he hadn't. Frisk took a deep breath and reluctantly continued.

"Then one day . . . the human became very ill," said a bug creature as Frisk passed.

The human glanced at a group of Vegatoids that peered back with sadness in their eyes. "The sick human only had one request . . . to see the flowers from her village . . . but there was nothing we could do," they said. Frisk increased his pace a little. The path ahead was long and he wanted to get through the area quickly.

"The next day . . . the next day . . ." said the monsters as he went. "The human died. Asriel, wracked with grief, absorbed the human's soul. He transformed into a being with incredible power." Frisk kept walking, his eyes focused on the path ahead. Now he knew who that monster was in the illustration he had seen in Waterfall.

"With the human soul, Asriel crossed through the barrier," said an Icecap to Frisk's right. Frisk glanced at them as he passed by. "He carried the human's body into the sunset . . . back to the village of the humans." Frisk looked ahead, ignoring the gathering monsters around him as he tried to press on. But he let their voices reach him and listened to their story.

"Asriel reached the center of the village. There, he found a bed of Golden Flowers. He carried the human onto it." Frisk stepped out of the tunnel and gasped at the sight before him. Both sides of the street were lined with monsters of every kind, waiting to tell him this story. Someone must have set this up. But he had no idea who. He kept going and listened as he walked.

"Suddenly, screams rang out in the village. The villagers had seen Asriel holding the human's body. They thought that he had killed the child. So the humans attacked him with everything they had. He was struck with blow after blow." Frisk lowered his head a little, holding back tears. This was the history of his village too . . . his home. The monsters continued. "Asriel had the power to destroy them all . . . but . . . Asriel did not fight back. Clutching the human . . . Asriel smiled, and walked away."

Frisk lifted his head, tears in his eyes. He sniffled and moved faster down the street. "Wounded, Asriel stumbled home. He entered the castle and collapsed. His dust spread across the garden." Frisk gritted his teeth, trying to control his feelings, but it was only getting harder "The kingdom fell into despair," the monsters continued. "The King and Queen had lost two children in one night. The humans had once again taken everything from us."

Frisk narrowed his eyes and moved even faster. "The king decided it was time to end our suffering. Every human who falls down here must die. With enough souls, we can shatter the barrier forever. It's not long now." Frisk shook his head. He couldn't hide what he felt and finally bolted down the long street as tears blurred his vision. The monsters spoke in unison as he ran. "King Asgore will let us go! King Asgore will give us hope! King Asgore will save us all!" Frisk ran several more meters as the monsters repeated themselves. And finally running out of breath, he panted and slowed. The monsters fell silent. Frisk was nearing the castle.

"You should be smiling too," said one of the monsters. "Aren't you excited? Aren't you happy?" Frisk refused to look at the creature as he passed. He neared the end of the street and stopped when a single Froggit hopped into his path.

"You're going to be free," it croaked.

Frisk sniffled and glanced down at the frog. "You . . . don't even know what I am." He stepped around the Froggit and ran for the open gate ahead. He had to get off the street and out of sight. All those innocent eyes on him was a pressure he couldn’t take any longer.

Full Chapter List

#undertale #undertale spoilers #fan fiction #frisk #alphys #chara #part three #frisky business #foraflower au #long one again #had to get through that tale

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twdeadlysins · 5 years ago

Text

Bloodletting: Part Two

Season two, episode two (2/2)

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3,098

Warnings: Slow burn, the usual walking dead violence, language, blood, and such with possible typos

Author’s Note: I don’t own anything from The Walking Dead, so all credit goes to their respective owners. This is a twd series rewrite with the reader inserted into the mix. I did and will continue to use dialogue from the actual show because I want it to be similar to what you’ve already watched, but obviously have the reader in it.

Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve uploaded another part for this series. Writer’s block, lack of motivation, and just life has been factors in why I haven’t. I’m trying to get back into the groove of things! <3

If you want to be (un)tagged for this series rewrite, don’t hesitate to send me an ask, message me, or leave a comment and I’ll add/remove you. The same goes for any other fics! I’m in no way, shape, or form a writer. Any feedback is appreciated, but hate is a different story. Thank you and enjoy!

The gifs I use aren’t mine, so all credit goes to their respective owners.

MASTERLIST // TWD SERIES REWRITE

Daryl and the others were casually strolling through the woods to go back to the interstate before they heard a bloodcurdling scream ring out in the silence. The hunter raced with the group close behind in the direction it was coming from while he went for his crossbow on his shoulder. Andrea was on the ground crawling backwards as a walker was trying to nab her, but a woman with ear length brown hair rode on a horse with a bat in hand, striking the dead with a blow to the head.

The woman urgently asked the blonde if she was Lori, obviously in a rush and desperate to find her. Carl’s mother announced she was Lori and so the mysterious woman said that Rick had sent her and that she needed to come with her. Lori was baffled and didn’t understand what was going on and frankly Daryl didn’t either.

“There’s been an accident, Carl’s been shot. He’s still alive, but you’ve got to come now.” Lori’s eyes widen with her mouth gaped open in shock to the point where she didn’t move a muscle, just wandering her eyes back and forth unable to say or do anything. “Rick needs you, just come,” the woman strictly urged and that managed to make Lori snap out of it as she quickly shrugged off her backpack.

Daryl whipped his head towards the mother. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We don’ know this girl, you can’t get on that horse!” but she didn’t listen as she continued to hop up onto the mammal.

“Y/N said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl? Backtrack to Fairburn road, two miles down is our farm. You’ll see the mailbox, the name is Greene.” After that she galloped off into the woods where the group just came from leaving the others to comprehend what had just happened and the hunter to fire an arrow into the walker’s head that sat up with a wheeze.

The travel back to the highway was quiet and left Daryl to think about what had happened. She mentioned Rick, Carl and Y/N by name, so she obviously knew them and the shot that rang out prior was consistent with her story, she didn’t seem like a threat either… just sincere. The archer couldn’t do anything, but inform Dale and T-Dog about what occurred and then meet up with Rick at the farm tomorrow. Dale questioned with concern about Carl being shot, so Glenn elaborated about them not knowing since they weren’t there and a girl had swooped Lori up and took her.

“You let her?” Dale inquired towards Daryl which made him get defensive.

“Climb down out of my asshole, man. Rick and Y/N sen’ her, even knew Lori n’ Carl by name,” he retorted, brushing past the old man while Andrea angrily walked into the RV. Dale had asked if she was okay after learning that her screams were due to a walker, but all she gave him was a heated glare.

Shortly after, everyone was discussing about going to the farm, but Carol refused to leave which led to Dale point out that they were split- scattered and weak. “What if she comes back and we’re not here? It could happen.” Carol made a valid point, but so did Dale and it was a tough decision to think about. If Sophia made her way back to the highway and they weren’t there, it would be horrible. Everyone was searching for her and the place she knew where her group would be was the interstate, so to not see them there… she would feel helpless and wander someone where else… she would never be found.

Daryl had a plan, tomorrow morning would give them a chance to rig a big sign and leave her some supplies. He was going to stay with the RV tonight leading Dale and Andrea to stay back as well. Glenn wanted to too, but was instructed to go- to reconnect with the group and get T-Dog there since he had a blood infection that went from bad to worse. Learning that information sparked an idea from hunter, so he went to his motorcycle- Merle’s rather and snatched an oily rag off to get what he was really looking for inside his pouch… a bag of prescription meds. Daryl tossed the dirty cloth to Dale, scolding him for leaving it on his brother’s motorcycle and asked why he had waited so long to say anything.

The archer searched through his brother’s stash for something that could help T-Dog with his infection. He threw a bottle of strong painkillers to Glenn and oxycycline to Dale stating that the medication was top quality, not the cheap stuff and with that he walked away.

After you had provided Maggie with the rest of your group’s location, you settled into a wooden rocking chair looking off into the sunset lit field still huddled in a blanket. Rick had came outside not long after and stood with his hands on his hips, his signature stance, and you could tell by his expression, he was thinking.

“Hey,” you softly called, making him break out of his thoughts and turn his head to look down in your direction, not making eye contact with you. “Carl will get through this- you guys will get through this. Maggie went to go get Lori, Shane is out there with Otis to get those damn supplies, and you’re here, giving your blood. Everything will be fine.” Rick nodded his head, going through what you said to him in his head before giving you a small smile, finally looking at you.

Hershel came out of the house and went to stand beside your best friend after giving you a concerning look to which you just smiled hoping it would assure him you were fine. You still had a fever, but overall the medicine was helping with your infected wounds and easing the bruised bone that was your hip. The two men talked about Hershel’s house and how it’s been in his family for over 160 years and it hasn’t been touched by the dead which was a miracle. Walkers were everywhere it seemed, but this place- this farm makes the world seem normal, like the apocalypse didn’t even occur. He elaborated that he had lost friends, neighbors… family. His wife and stepson’s death was the result of the epidemic, but his daughters were spared and he was grateful to God for that. “These people here, all we’ve got left is each other. Just hoping we can ride it out in peace ‘till there’s a cure.”

“We were at the C.D.C… it’s gone now. There is no cure,” Rick informed which brought a wave of sadness to course through you not only because of the tragic event, but also that there was no cure- that there was no stopping the walkers. It was your life now and you’d have to survive through it if you wanted to live that is.

“I don’t believe it,” Hershel chuckled. “When AIDS came along, everyone panicked. One boy in town came down with it and some people pulled their children from school, so they didn’t have to sit in the same room-”

“This is a whole other thing-”

“That’s what we always say, ‘This one’s different’-”

“Well, this one is,” Rick blatantly said, trying to get his point across since it wasn’t reaching Hershel’s head.

The old man lightly snickered and you knew he was going to continue the debate. “Mankind’s been fighting plagues from the start. We get our behinds kicked for a while then we bounce back. It’s nature correcting herself, restoring some balance.” You managed to barely roll your eyes at his statement not agreeing or believing that was the case. Rick gave him a ‘bitch-da-fuck’ look that clearly yelled he wasn’t convinced. “I wish I could believe that.”

“No disrespect Hershel, but I don’t believe that shit either and never will. Do you really think nature is correcting herself with the fucking apocalypse? People are not even human anymore and you think a cure will make it all better? I’ve seen their insides hanging out and they were walking around like it was a flesh wound, no cure can fix that.” You couldn’t hold your tongue anymore, you had the urge to voice your opinion to hopefully open up his eyes, but you had a feeling it would take more than words to change that. Before he could even think of an answer, you could hear hooves galloping in the distance.

Once Lori got off the horse, she stood there and started to sob as Rick made his way over to elope her in a hug that tugged at your heartstrings. Her grip on him was tight and they rocked back and forth a couple times before Lori started to walk forwards making her husband walk backwards desperately wanting to get to her boy. The two of them proceeded to walk towards the room and you plopped down on the couch wanting to give them their privacy and space.

“Here.” You glanced up to see Hershel offering you some more medication and a glass of water, so you took the pills out of hand and tossed them in your mouth before grabbing the glass to swallow the contents. “Thank you,” you muttered earning a nod in return as he pivoted to go into the kitchen. “Hey, Hershel,” you softly called and he halted to peer at you. “I’m sorry ‘bout earlier, I just… I tend to curse a lot and loudly voice my thoughts and opinions… especially when I keep them bottled up.”

“It’s okay, Y/N, I don’t blame you,” he assured before disappearing into the other room, but the little voice in your head kept pestering you, telling you that he was lying. You shook your head and mumbled for it to shut up and took another sip of the water before scooting back into the couch, hugging the blanket around yourself.

“Y/N,” you heard someone call. You lifted your head and bewilderingly scanned around the room for the source since you had just woken up from a nap. Hershel was standing near the dining table raising a glass of orange juice with another in his other before setting one on the wooden surface. Once you limped your way to the table and into a chair to drink the juice, Lori was helping a pale Rick into the room making you choke on the liquid at his sickly appearance.

Hershel gave Rick the other glass, ushering him to drink more once he took a sip and was about to put it down. “Rick you look paler than me, drink the whole damn thing,” you joked, earning a glare from the deputy, but he complied.

Lori placed both of her hands on the back of the chair across from you for support as she spoke. “Okay, I understand when Shane gets back with this other man-”

“Otis,” Hershel corrected, making you take a sip while peering at the interaction before you, having a feeling this was going to get tense.

“Otis, the idiot who shot my son.” When you choked the first time, it was minor, just a little clear of your throat and you were fine, but this- this sent you over the edge. You set down the glassware as you coughed, earning concerned expressions to which you held your index up for them to wait. “Oka-okay continue, m-sorry,” you said with a tiny smile as you cleared the itch creeping up your throat, going for your cup praying nothing else would make you go into a coughing fit again.

“Ma’am, it was an accident,” Hershel softly assured, but Lori wasn’t having any of it as she told him she’d take that into advisement later, but for now he was the idiot who shot her son. You couldn’t help finding the whole conversation amusing how Lori was blatantly dissing Otis and you didn’t blame her, but you didn’t entirely blame Otis either. Yes, he should’ve been more aware before pressing the trigger, but at the end of the day it was an accident.

Rick placed his hand on top of hers. “Lori, they’re doing everything they can to make it right.”

You nodded agreeing with your best friend, both palms wrapped around your glass. “Otis feels guilty… obviously someone would feel that if they accidentally shot a kid,” you muttered, glancing into your half full cup, before peering back up and clearing your throat noticing you said that out loud. “He’s trying to redeem himself, tagging along to go to a walker infested high school to get the supplies needed to save Carl, so… let’s go easy on the guy, okay?”

“Okay, as soon as they get back you can perform this surgery?” Lori questioned seeming to hear, but ignore what you and Rick had said. “I’ll certainly do my best.” Rick’s wife nodded at his response before asking if he’s ever done the procedure before. “Well, yes, in a sense.”

“In a sense?” She said and your brows furrowed and titled your head in confusion. “What do you mean in a sense? You’ve either done it or not doc,” you replied.

Rick made a remark about how they didn’t have the luxury of shopping for a surgeon to which Lori lightly chuckled knowing that before she inquired for assurance that Hershel was a doctor.

“Yes, ma’am, of course. A vet.”

Your orbs widen and you spit out the orange juice understanding exactly what type of doctor Hershel really was, but Lori wasn’t on the same page. Rick and Lori gave you a ‘wtf’ look before going back to Hershel with hope in her eyes. “A veteran? A combat medic?” You shook your head as you wiped the juice off of your face, waiting for Hershel to inform them.

“A veterinarian.” You peered over at the couple and the look on their faces… they were shocked to hear that the only patients he has ever had were animals. Lori put her reaction aside and asked what animal he’s done the type of surgery on before. As she started listing a few mammals, Rick quietly announced he had to sit and as he did so, he lost his balance, falling onto a chair. Everyone rushed to aid him, you even bolted up to help, but you winced at the sudden rush of movement and eased back down in your seat seeing that Lori had gotten it covered.

“Completely over your head, aren’t you?” Lori said staring at the vet after she made sure her husband was fine.

“Ma’am, aren’t we all?”

Nightfall had masked the sky as you were all watching Hershel take Carl’s blood pressure. Lori’s side was leaning against the door frame while Rick was in front of her waiting for the vet to report an update. Hershel had requested for you to stay off your feet for a day or two until your hip was better to deal with and your fever wasn’t too high, so you were seated in an armchair staring at the wall above the bed in a daze. This whole situation was fucked. First you get stuck at the interstate, you lose Sophia, and now Carl’s critically injured and everyone’s separated. You hoped Shane and Otis were okay, you really wished you could’ve went, but you would’ve just slowed them down or even get yourself killed in the process. The rest of the group was back at the highway and you just wanted them to get their asses to the farm because it already felt weird not being with them.

The doctor removed his stethoscope and informed that his pressure was dropping again and time was running out, so Rick hurriedly jumped the gun and demanded for him to take some more of his blood, whatever Carl needed no matter how much, give it to him and then he was gonna go… Go?

“Go? Go where?” His wife questioned in confusion catching what he said as well.

“He said five miles, they should be long back by now. Something’s gone wrong,” Rick elaborated and he wasn’t wrong. It has been hours since Shane and Otis drove off to the high school to get some supplies. Yes, it was infested with loads of walkers, but it shouldn’t have taken this long. “Are you insane? You’re not going after them.”

“Rick, listen to your wife,” Hershel advised, but Rick wasn’t listening and started to talk about them getting into trouble, but the old man reminded him he was in no condition to do anything about it. Your best friend had given too much blood, he could barely stand and even if he tried to go after them, he wouldn’t make it off the porch. Rick was stubborn and wasn’t backing down, saying if something went wrong, he had to be there. His wife sternly said his place was here and if Shane said he’d be back, then he’d be back. “Rick, I know you want to, hell I do too, but we have our limits,” you mentioned in defeat.

“I can’t just sit here!”

“That’s exactly what you do!” Lori snapped. “If you need to pray or cry or tell God he’s cruel then you right ahead, but you’re not leaving, Rick. Carl needs you… here and I can’t do this by myself,” she softly muttered. “Not this one.”

Guilt suddenly washed over you once Lori had said the last bit. She went through Rick being in hospital alone, you weren’t there for her and Carl or even Rick during that time. Sure you visited a couple times, but it was brief and usually late at night after visiting hours since you had a friend that worked in the hospital who let it slide. You didn’t want to face her because you’d blame yourself for getting him shot and now thinking back it was selfish for you to do that, but you thought it would be better if she didn’t see you. Regardless, if you had to stay put, then so did Rick. You’d just have to wait for Shane and Otis to come back from their supply run, and the others from the interstate. Once they save Carl, then him along with you and Rick will heal and get better, that’s when things will start looking up. After that, you all can resume what had you out in the woods to begin with… finding Sophia.

_____________________________________

MASTERLIST // TWD SERIES REWRITE

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you’d like to added or removed from the tags don’t hesitate to send me an ask or message! <3

Taglist: @jodiereedus22 @sourwolf-sterek32 @jll72-blog @mtngirlforever @haleypearce @nikkipea @sombra--speaks @the-three-eyed-ravenclaw @bunnymother93 @holyn0vak @myshakespeareandarling @million-dollar-milkshake @thatsoragan @firehoopinmama @mummy-woves-you @sheebthezeeb @j-a-val @filleinterrupted @gruffle1 @lonewolf471 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @gabbygurrl @burningsorr0ws @siren-queen03 @thebuckynat @randomfandommess @dixonluvv @aestheticmattilyn @samlott2202 @freggietale @fandomfanatic97 @lxdyred @ii-chuuya-gravity-ii @dashesoflipstick @bucky-barnes-babies @magnumstyles @selvadorada @jordangdelacruz

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abadpoetwithdreams · 7 years ago

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Nirvana in Fire Episode 9 Reaction

In just one week I will be taking to the skies yet again, this time to go visit my dear friend ewokshootsfirst for two weeks! So as of this typing I hope to finish this reaction post before I depart, since I do not expect to get any writing done while I am away, but if I don't manage that feat then, um, sorry, and I guess you are reading this in early February instead of mid-January. (Note: GUESS WHAT it's February I literally resumed watching this ep as SOON as I was back in the US and dramafever stopped blocking my videos (I found out even saved-for-offline-viewing videos are unwatchable overseas the hard way, lol). I did write about half of this before my trip, but the rest is post. While very jetlagged.)

Episode nine begins with a focus on a sign that apparently reads Su Residence hanging over a doorway, so this is our cue that Mei Chang Su has, indeed, moved out of the Snow Cottage. Ironically, his new manor is covered with literal snow, as the fall from Jing Rui's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night has evidently not slowed, but never mind that. I hate that now whenever I see snow falling at night my first thought will be good time for a murder, btw. Thanks, Nirvana in Fire.

There are lots of workers bustling around carrying furniture and sweeping and mending things and doing other busy moving-house work, and in the midst of them in the middle of a snowy courtyard Fei Liu is building a snowman. Or at least he is piling snow up in a shape that might turn into a snowman. Maybe he is building a SnowMeng to destroy. Su is watching him fondly from beneath a sheltering jut of roof. When a man (might be Li Gang, hard to tell from this distance) tells Su he should go inside, because it is too cold for him out of doors (he looks very bundled up in this scene), he says okay and then immediately is like FEI LIU THROW ME A SNOWBALL which is the exact opposite thing to what he just agreed to, sighhhh. So he starts playing catch with Fei Liu in the snow, and it would be adorable because he looks so giddy and happy, but I'm with his household on this one, GET INSIDE AND GET WARM, MCS. Why do even the cute things on this hell show just make me sad??? A woman also scolds him and tells him to go inside (and again he says okay and doesn't budge, behold Actual Child Lin Shu, ladies and gentlemen), but then a fellow named Doctor Yan shows up, and he looks Serious. All it takes is a harrumph from the imposing-looking doctor, and Su guiltily, reluctantly, retreats indoors. This is an oddly charming scene, but of course in typical NiF fashion it's also terribly sad, because it isn't fair, our hero should be able to play in the snow and enjoy the chill air, and it's yet another reminder of how he is caged: in his invalid body, in his false face and persona, in his self-imposed quest for justice. Strangely enough, this scene reminds me of how Jing Rui described how carefree his friend Su was before they returned to the capitol together. For the first time, I can sort of imagine what that would have been like, and it is heartbreaking.

Young Master Lin Chen is so smart to have sent Doctor Yan over, Li Gang says with a smile, as he watches Su re-enter the house. Ahh, Lin Chen, the sword dancer! Nice to hear his name mentioned again, as I have not seen him since episode one and I quite liked him in that ep. Also a reminder that he was the one looking after Su's health, and it would seem that has not changed.

Meanwhile Minister Gao is happily pouring himself a relaxing cup of tea, cheerfully expounding upon how good he feels now that he has handed the murder well case off to the other ministry as Ban Ruo suggested. If he had kept working on that case any longer, he jokes, I'm afraid that this case might still be around but I wouldn't be. His audience, one of his subordinates, laughs politely and then says slightly apologetically that The magistrate of Lantai County seeks an audience. Gao reacts as poorly as might be expected, all happy relaxation feelings gone, but his officer hastens to reassure him that this is nothing like the murder well case. It is simply that people have spotted a beast on Xiaogu Mountain. Wait, what? That has to be relevant to the plot somehow but as of now it just seems really random. Gao says the other man should take care of it on his own, and expresses his fervent wish that no more cases implicating imperial officials pop up. I don't think he will get his wish; not as long as Mei Chang Su lives, anyway.

Now it is time to check in on what Yu is doing! A new character has arrived to meet with him: this is Minister Qi, and I thiiiink he is Yu's ally in the Ministry of Justice, because he reports that Minister Gao took Ban Ruo's hint and sent all case materials to the Ministry of Justice, and Yu responds by saying that now he knows that the case is in Qi's hands he no longer worries about anything. Minister Qi smiles way too much, it's creepy. Well, smile while you can, mister; I am certain MCS will come for you eventually! Qi reminds Yu that if they manage to take down Lou Zhi Jing then Yu will be able to hopefully install one of his supporters in the highly influential Minster of Revenue position, further growing his political power. Yu definitely knows this already, so this is just early-episode exposition to remind the viewer of where the stakes are in this situation.

Cut to: Mei Chang Su again, and AHH I LOVE THIS SCENE. Mainly because it introduces what is one of my favourite bits of MCS Extraness™ so far, namely, the game pieces. Yeah, that's what I want to call them: these wooden tiles carved with a lot of writing I obviously can't read. Are they supposed to be a visual nod to mahjong, with its eliminating pairs of pieces from the gameboard? (Since as is revealed in this scene, Su is balancing how he is crippling CP and Yu by taking out their allies in even matches?) Anyway, he is holding two of them meditatively, as he sits in his new manor, and when Meng shows up to ask what he is plotting (hi, Meng!), Su begins to lay out the rules of this deadly game he is playing with the powerful officials in government.

Yu and the Crown Prince are vying for the throne, says Su. We know this. He then goes on to elaborate, however: each prince has equal power over the six ministries of government. We already know CP has Revenue and Yu has Justice, but now we have confirmation that this equal balance exists. Meng, listening, suddenly frowns and stoops closer: there on the table are six wooden tiles, each painted with the name of a ministry. THE GAME IS AFOOT, WATSON. I LOVE THIS. It's both really cool, a very clever and dramatic visual way of helping the viewer keep track of what is surely about to become a very very complicated game of politics, but also just a little chilling to see Su literally reduce people in the capitol to pieces in his game. Is there a tile with Jing Rui's name on it because I wouldn't be surprised. Just disappointed.

Meng lays each piece out and says what each is, which I appreciate because dramafever wasn't subtitling the tiles themselves and for an instant I was worried I'd have to track down online translations for them (I have tried to avoid any and all googling related to this show because I'm terrified of spoilers). The Ministries are:

Justice, Personnel, and Public Works (Yu's team) Revenue, Justice, and Rites (CP's team)

Not sure why Justice is listed on both sides, unless they are different branches of it or something. Or just a subtitle thing again. Guess I'll find out as I go along.

Meng pauses, considering the tiles, and then looks up at Su, who has been watching him in silence. You are thinking about cutting off their supporters one by one? he asks, looking, I think, a bit concerned. Su smiles like this is a private joke, then replies that he isn’t just getting rid of the six ministries (JUST the six ministries, oh yeah, because obviously that would be underachieving), he is getting rid of our old friend the Duke of Qing (who has been haunting the doings on this show ever since the beginning of episode one!) and the Marquis of Ning as well. Military? Meng asks, and Su confirms. He is looking not just to destabilize the powers that be in government: he means to utterly tear them down. Lin Shu has come home to ruin the lives of everyone who wronged him and to raise up the righteous and guys I'm getting emotional about this I have to move on.

As we already know, the Marquis supports CP and the Duke of Qing supports Yu, keeping that balance of power equal. And now Su starts illustrating to Meng how he has started to tear his foes apart, all the while carefully keeping that balance so that they do not suspect: the Minister of Revenue, Lou Zhi Jing, is done for after the whole Orchid Garden scandal, taking out one person from team CP. And how does Su illustrate this? By picking up Revenue's tile, considering it for a moment, and then casually tossing it into the brazier so it can burn there and keep him warm. Lin Shu is my favourite drama queen, this is so unnecessary and yet so satisfying. BuRN THEM BURN THEM ALL

Furthermore, he reminds both Meng and us the viewers, the Duke of Qing has also been taken down, so that's one less ally for Yu. Su allows himself a tiny smile at this one, and then yep, into the brazier the tile goes. Prince Yu might still want to fight for his ally, though, says Su, and even more ironically he might come to Su for help in that fight. And then, with perfect comedic timing cutting the tension of this scene: in comes a servant announcing that Yu has just arrived for a visit. Meng is impressed by Su's predictive skills, but you can just see the animation leave Su's face, and indeed his entire body; he visibly sags, steeling himself. He may have anticipated the visit, but he is not happy about having to deal with Yu again. He was enjoying showing off to Meng, I think; enjoying being able to share his plans with a friend he can trust.

Meng says ah, I will go into hiding before Yu comes in, and I was honestly a bit disappointed he didn't just do the ol' lampshade over the head and stand in a corner bit or whatever the equivalent of that is in ancient fantasy China, but he exits to hide much more sensibly and now we cut to see Yu stepping down from his carriage at Su's door, and he is wearing this giant collar of almost blue fur, his outfit is exquisite. Oh, and we also see Su return his wooden tiles to where he stores them in a plain wooden box at his side, while meanwhile the Duke of Qing and Minister of Revenue are burning merrily away in the brazier. Still totally legible, by the way, but this doesn’t seem to worry Su so I won’t let it worry me either (but can you imagine how amazing it would be if Yu noticed, ahahaha).

They talk about the Duke of Qing case a little and Yu tries to act like, oh, that's all water under the bridge, no hard feelings. But then he makes a formal bow (!) and asks Su for help on the case! Father has already formally summoned Prince Jing today to appoint him in charge of trying the case, says Yu. Su does a very good fake surprise reaction at hearing this.

(We are also treated to a glorious little scene that basically just consists of the Minister of Justice scurrying to welcome Prince Jing to his office and praising Jing for his military service and commenting on what an honor it is to have him visit (lies) and not-so-subtly asking why are you here instead of resting on your time off from the battlefields? and then Jing turns around with icy deliberation and just fixes him and his sycophancy with the most deadpan, scathing Look, and WELCOME BACK JINGYAN I HAVE MISSED YOU SO)

Back at Su's house he asks Yu: didn't you or the Crown Prince protest Jing taking control of this case? Yu looks unhappy as he admits that the Emperor has forbidden them from getting involved, and further that whatever Jing decides will probably go in the Crown Prince's favor (since, remember, Yu's ally is in the wrong here, and Jing will always be fair). But Yu cannot do anything to interfere, or his dad would be very upset. He also admits that he is worried because he cannot bribe/influence that stubborn Prince Jing anyway LOL. That's my boy!

Su looks a little proud of that stubborn Prince Jing but he does remind Yu that Jing owes him a favor (for shielding him from punishment in the Ni Huang case). Yu just huffs a small, disparaging laugh at that:

You might not know what my seventh brother is like. I have never sen anyone in Imperial Court who is as thickheaded and behaves more like an old fogey. Not even father can handle him at times. I'm afraid that small favor isn't enough to make him obey me.

Priceless. Mei Chang Su, listening to Yu's analysis of Jing, looks increasingly amused, but manages to hold himself in check. He also fidgets a bit with his right hand (all these closeups of Hu Ge's hands are killing me btw I always love watching how people use their hands in film and his are so nice. Yes, I guess I have two fixations on this show: Su's hands and Jing's eyebrows.) which I guess is significant since the camera focuses on it but I don't know why. Maybe that's his tell when he's thinking hard, I'll have to pay more attention in future.

Su says So essentially you want me to somehow control Jing to make sure the Duke is spared punishment? Yu leans forward eagerly: that is exactly what he wants, and if Su can do it, Prince Yu will be extremely grateful. Su keeps fidgeting with that hand. Maybe it's more just a tell of when he wants to kill someone lol

Meanwhile, Jing is making the Minister of Justice's life miserable by reciting the protocol for the trial at him, demanding proper preparations be made, and announcing his Imperial-ordained authority over the trial. Qi tries to bluster and delay by saying he hasn't received any orders from the Emperor yet, so he cannot start doing what Jing says until he gets said orders! Jing blinks, taken aback a bit: I AM the Imperial order, I just told them to you right now, he says. That's not the same as actually seeing official paperwork, Qi simpers, and it's easy to see why he likes Yu, they are both super slimy. Look, Prince Jing, he says, in a very insincere show of apology, I wish I could start helping right away and it isn't like I WANT to make you look bad, it's just that official protocol says I cannot do what you say until I get the paperwork. Aw what a shame. Oh, and also I am already busy with many important cases and am understaffed etc. etc. so you might have to wait a while to get this case started anyway! Poor Jing looks very put out, but he cannot exactly argue. How long does Qi need to prep the case? he asks. Oh, not too many days, Qi replies. It should only take maybe two weeks? How does two weeks sound? I hate Qi. Jing considers, then steps forward. The official paperwork will arrive tomorrow, and I will return here then, he says. By then, think carefully before you answer me. And then he just WALKS like a BOSS out of there, knocking Qi deliberately aside with his shoulder as he goes and totally ignoring the Minister of Justice's attempts at speaking to him further. He's so sick of having to deal with this horrid little man already and he hasn't even properly started the job yet, poor Jing.

Back with Su and Yu: Su tells the prince that what he is asking for is a dead end path. When Yu is confused, Su explains: Yu is very powerful and has everything going for him but he has forgotten the most important rule: that there is one person against whom you must never set yourself, namely, the Emperor. Yu leaps to his feet, alarmed. What? Su is mistaken; he would NEVER go against his father's will! This is a big deal not just because obviously one must not cross one's emperor, but also the emperor is Yu's father so doing anything against him is a huge crime against his filial responsibility as well as his political allegiance. No wonder Yu has such a violent reaction to Su accusing him of such an act.

Our Mei Chang Su, however, is unfazed. Who do you think demanded that Qing be tried to begin with? he asks Yu. Do you think it was the Crown Prince or Jing? No; it was the Emperor, and thus if you try to interfere with the outcome of the trial in anyway you are setting yourself against not one of your brothers but against the Emperor himself. DO look at the big picture, Yu.

Yu sinks back down, shaken. Is there really no solution? Yu asks. Su shakes his head: The Duke of Qing is a lost cause, he says, and I think Your Highness knows it. (This is intercut with the Duke of Qing and his family being dragged out of their house in chains, to emphasize just how Doomed he is.) Yu takes a bracing gulp of tea and says he does not think Su understands just how important Qing is to him. Oh, I do, says Su, with a slight chuckle (you have NO idea, Yu). Yu starts to question why Su left the Marquis' manor so quickly: surely there must be a reason? Su dodges the question, and Yu backs off a little disappointed, but then vows that as long as you are willing to favor me, the gates of my manor will always be open for you. Su doesn't exactly look thrilled by this promise, but that's just what he gets for his deceptions working so well. I'm pretty sure in the novel I remember him literally throwing up after spending time talking with Yu because Yu nauseates him literally that much, so I like imagining that that expression is just his fighting not to hurl face. All of Mei Chang Su and Yu's conversations are made even better by just keeping in mind that Su is spending them fighting not to literally vomit.

We meet yet another new character: Lie Zhan Ying, Jing's adjudant general! He works with Jing so I automatically like him. He also has something of Jing's straightforward, no-nonsense mannerisms, which is a nice way to remind us of the divide between the political and the pugilist lifestyles, I love all the attention to detail in this show. Ying has arrived at whichever political building is holding the plaintiffs in the Duke of Qing case, to collect them and bring them to Jing's manor. The official who meets him at the door is wholly obliging, in stark contrast to Minister Qi's attitude towards Jing earlier. This official also mentions that the Crown Prince sent a message saying Prince Jing is going to all this trouble, so we mustn't hinder him. He also mentions how We are all working for the Emperor here, so basically Mei Chang Su was 100% correct in his advice to Yu and Yu has dodged a bullet by taking his advice and not trying to mess with the case. His meddling would have been VERY obvious and would have made him look VERY bad.

We return to Su and Yu, the former of whom is apparently walking the latter out. Yu takes a moment to ask if there is any further advice that Mei Chang Su wishes to impart? In my opinion, replies the very innocent and unbiased Divine Talent, it's best for Your Highness to abandon Duke of Qing State now and support Prince Jing. YOU SNEAKY CAD I LOVE YOU. (Sidenote: I forget if I mentioned this before, but the lighting work in this drama is delightful. This scene, for example, looks so very cold even without the clouds of breath curling up when the actors speak, it's lit so everything and everyone looks so frozen and sharp and blue. I'm yelling at my screen for Su to go put that gorgeous fur collar back on, even Yu is wearing his furs for goodness' sake, BEHAVE, LIN SHU.)

Yu is taken aback but considers. Jing is a prince, he says, and is acting under Imperial decree. No one, therefore, would think to stand against him; what does he need Yu's support for? Okay, so he has seemingly conveniently forgotten that that is EXACTLY what HE was planning to do just a few minutes ago. After a moment he grudgingly concedes that Minister Qi miiiiiiight stall things a bit, but that is all. Su, who totally eye rolled when Yu played innocent, shakes his head with a smile. Certainly Jing might need the support of the Ministry of Justice for the case, he says, but he isn't just talking about this mess with Qing. He is talking of all the days to come. And I start cackling at the look on Yu's serious duped face because I swear, if Mei Chang Su successfully tricks Prince Yu into supporting Prince Jing and aiding in his ascension to power, I will laugh myself SICK. THIS IS SO GOOD.

Su calmly explains that there will be more cases to be tried after Qing, and many of them will undoubtedly involve powerful families and wealthy landowners like the Duke. How could Prince Jing handle that alone? If Prince Yu were to throw his political weight behind Jing, then not only would Jing truly owe him on a scale that he could not ignore, but the Emperor would also be pleased because this would help him in implementing his agricultural policy. It is a win-win, Yu! Listen to the Divine Talent!

Sooo . . . you are having me draw Prince Jing over to my side? Yu asks slowly. My cackling intensifies.

Yep, that is correct, Su says, and with a touch of smugness: I have been planning this since the Ni Huang incident.

Yu is most impressed. He presses Su to tell him what the point of this strategy is. Su answers easily: What is the fuss about losing the Duke of Qing State? In terms of military power would two Dukes of Qing State even make up for one Prince Jing? OH, BRILLIANT. When presented like that, it make SO much sense! If you can get Jing on your side everyone is always on about his stubbornness and his lack of subtlety, so he would be the ideal ally. Plus, everyone (Yu and CP included) keep overlooking him because he has zero political power. But he has spent his entire adult life building military power. So of COURSE he would be more valuable a military ally than Qing! LIN SHU I LOVE YOU. AGAIN.

Prince Yu spends a full ten seconds silently having his mind blown (yes, I timed them, because his myriad of baffled/astonished/delighted expressions was HILARIOUS to watch, all hail this actor) but he emerges out the other side with a giddy smile. If I could win Prince Jing over, that would be great! He exclaims excitedly, before sobering a little to add that but judging by his temperment he wouldn't obey my orders to summon the army when I need him. LOLOL I WANT TO SEE THAT AU PLEASE.

Again, Su looks pretty amused by this read on Jing's character. He reminds Yu, however: why on earth would Yu ever need an army? Is he planning on taking the throne by force? WHAT? NO THAT IS CRAZY TALK, says a very worried Yu. That's right, Su. Play him like a fiddle.

We interrupt this scene to enjoy a temper tantrum being thrown by good ol' CP, who is raging about how Yu has essentially done in Lou Zhi Jing. Fine, then, he shouts, I will make certain he loses the Duke of Qing, too! And thus he is following neatly the path Su has laid out for him, effectively disguising the hand of Mei Chang Su in all this. The Marquis, much calmer (he always worries me, he is too clever), says CP doesn't have to worry about the Duke; even if Yu dared try to meddle in the trial, Prince Jing wouldn't back down. The Duke is doomed. Similarly, though, the Marquis points out, Lou Zhi Jing is also definitely going to be convicted of his various disgusting crimes. This means that the position of Minister of Revenue will soon be vacant! If CP acts fast, he can recommend one of his allies to the position before Yu can and thus can take control of that political seat and tip the scales in his favor. CP is mollified by this, but then goes on to scoff at the Marquis' urging that he not be anxious:

As long as Mei Chang Su exists how can I possibly remain calm? No matter where he moves to, you have to get rid of him!

Uh, oh. The Crown Prince storms off and the Marquis does not look unduly bothered by the order. Ugh, Jing Rui, you deserve so much better but your father is a toad.

Back with Yu and MCS, Su is continuing to remind Yu of his place. In the capital His Majesty is in charge of the Palace Guards. Commander General Meng watches over the palace. Should anything go wrong, who would have the chance to launch an attack once the Imperial decree was made? Yu looks so intensely uncomfortable. You're right, he admits to Su. Su reminds him the goal now should be to gain the Emperor's favor.

As to who gets military support, it's just a matter of perspective. What's the point of having [Jing] obey your every word? Even if we were to say at the least that should Crown Prince one day seek to hatch an evil plot and put His Majesty in danger, or to go against his decree, judging from Prince Jing's personality would he wait to be summoned by you to defend His Majesty?

Yu thinks this over, sighs, and agrees. Prince Jing prides himself on being righteous, he says disapprovingly. Oh, Yu. Su reminds him that helping Jing doesn't mean doing anything grandoise, just--be friendlier. It seems I will have to pay a visit to Prince Jing's manor tomorrow for your sake, Su says. He explains basically that Jing is super dumb when it comes to politics and so he must himself intercede to Jing on Yu's behalf to let him know what's up, otherwise Jing probably wouldn't even recognize any favors Yu does for him. Su is so mean when talking about Jing, he must love him very much. Also, this is hilarious that he has justified his comings and goings to Jing's manor to his enemy like this, so now when Yu sees Su with Jing he will just be happy and think they are working for him, while they are all the while working together to burn him down. Yu even bows to Su in gratitude, thanking him for his hard work, and if Yu wasn't such a hateful snake of a man I would feel very sorry for him right now. But he is, so I don't. Plus Su's blank, dead-eyed expression as he accepts this wholly misplaced gratitude has me laughing. He looks like he is 0.0005 seconds away from just turning to the camera and breaking the fourth wall like he's on The Office. Yu also pledges to be personally responsible for Su's safety, no matter what CP and the Marquis try. How many birds has Su killed with this one stone of a conversation? Lots of birds.

Yu magnanimously says Su does not have to walk him out, as he is an invalid and it is still very cold and wet; melting snow or rain or both has been dripping from the rafters of these scenes for quite some time now. Su watches him depart, and then Li Gang rushes up with The Fur and it's like the sight of the thick cloak reminds Su that he is cold; where moments before he had been holding himself with perfect ease around Yu, he now shivers and clutches the cloak close. I am very grateful to Li Gang for taking care of my boy. I wonder if Su deliberately ordered his men not to give him any warm wraps until after Yu left, for appearance's/pride's sake. The two men return inside, and Su explains to a wondering Li Gang that he had to spend a very long time talking with Yu because Yu is difficult to deal with: he is very meticulous. Interesting.Whenever Su admits anyone is a challenge to manipulate I feel like I'm marking off this character checklist in my head: knowing that Su feels he has to tread carefully when speaking with Yu, for example, will add a nice layer of tension in their future meetings.

What is heartbreaking about this conversation is it is one of the few times we have so far where Su really does seem to be at his limit. He just seems so very tired--mentally from the intricate net he had to weave to catch Yu in, emotionally from having to pretend to be so cordial and mild-mannered around Yu when probably all he wants to do is stab Yu in the eye repeatedly (or, like, shoot him in the eye with an arrow, I suppose, wasn't it mentioned that Lin Shu's weapon of choice was the bow? A super awesome choice, by the way, as it is yet another shade of character depth: our hero's specialty was ranged weaponry and now here he is in the thick of the action in the capitol having to deal with all his enemies up close and personal. Just a fun little note), and physically because of the whole, you know, not-so-slowly-dying thing. Let the man rest! Where did that grumpy doctor go??

And, alas, Mei Chang Su cannot take the time to rest. Already he is moving onto the next stage of his plan: he tells Li Gang as they walk along (with Li Gang carefully supporting his boss, I am so grateful for this man) that he needs to visit Prince Jing tomorrow. Oh, and that he will also be bringing some golden chainmail. Whaaaat? Is it going to be dangerous? a very alarmed Li Gang exclaims. Su indulges first in a solid couple seconds of flat, disappointed staring, and then with a most massive eyeroll and silent sigh before he begins explaining, poor exhausted man. This is why he needs someone like Ni Huang on his side, someone similarly brilliant to himself and capable of making the same intellectual leaps he does, so that he does not have to constantly be explaining himself all the time. He just looks and sounds so Done.

The chainmail is to be a gift for little Ting Sheng, he says. That's super cute. But Li Gang disapproves, saying such a gift will be too suspicious coming from the East Yangtze Alliance leader. True, true. But it is odd that Su had not considered that; another sign seemingly of how worn thin he is right now. He asks Li Gang what he should do then (again, odd that he is asking someone else's advice, I cannot recall him doing that before??) but before Li Gang can come up with an alternative (he looks pretty stumped) Su calls Fei Liu (who was chilling on the rooftop, as one does) and tells him he will be giving a gift to Ting Sheng tomorrow. When Li Gang starts trying to comment on this plan, stating and restating the obvious about how Fei Liu is so eccentric no one will think such a valuable gift weird, Su juSt LIFTS his hand without even looking to coVER LI GANG'S MOUTH MID-SENTENCE, silencing him, and then he has the gall to look grumpily at his hand and SHAKE it like "EEW" BEFORE WALKING OFF he is so DONE LIN SHU IS DONE WITH TODAY HIS PEOPLE WOULDN'T LET HIM PLAY IN THE SNOW AND THEN HE HAD TO SPeND HOUrs PRETENDING TO LIKE PRINCE YU AND HE JUST HATES EVERYTHING I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHH. WHAT AN ICON.

Then we get a hilarious scene where Minister Qi happily reports to Yu that he stalled Jing and sent him away earlier and it was so easy because Jing is a political idiot hohohoho and then Yu steps forward menacingly and is all Who told you to make him leave? and Qi suddenly realizes with a look of absolute horror that he did the Wrong Thing and it's beautiful. This show is so sad and so intense and so emotionally complex and then it every so often just turns into this terrific comedy of errors (that scene with the two princes madly competing for Su's attention at the combat trials always comes to mind as a brilliant example of this) and its so? Funny? This show is a GIFT.

Cut to the Marquis of Ning's manor at night, presumably that night! He has a headache. His son in law--Jing Rui's brother-in-law but also maybe Actual Brother because this family is so messed up, the pugilist dad son whose name I forget--shows up to report that he has sent out some men. Are you confident this time? asks the Marquis. Based on earlier goings on I'm guessing this is yet another attempt on the Divine Talent's life. Over at Su's manor, he is trying to convince a very disapproving Fei Liu that golden chainmail is a good present for Ting Sheng. Once he explains that Ting Sheng is not as good a fighter as Fei Liu and thus chainmail is something he will both like and actually find useful, Fei Liu is sold, and as always I really enjoy this scene between just the two of them, but then they hear a commotion. Go ahead, Su tells a suddenly alert Fei Liu, who darts off. Su then deliberately starts reading a book and ignoring the various sounds of fierce combat coming from outside, lol. Or at least trying to ignore; he's probably just trying to distract himself since he can't go join in. Li Gang eventually reports that all intruders were killed, so so much for the Marquis' second assassination attempt!

Next day we see Su stepping down from a carriage at the gates of Jing's manor. The Sad Music is back and he's got that awful heartbreaking Look on his face again--the one he had when Ni Huang led him to his old house, the one he had when royal grandma ripped my heart out. So I immediately am like OH NO and I try to brace myself for something soul-crushing. But you know what I have learned? You cannot brace yourself for any of the pain this show inflicts. If Nirvana in Fire wants you to hurt, then by golly you are going to HURT, and there is nothing you can do to prevent that.

Because we suddenly get a freaking FLASHBACK. A FLASHBACK YOU GUYS. We haven't had any flashbacks before except to the battle where Lin Shu fell off that cliff!!! And now out of NOWHERE we see a 17-yr-old Jing SMILINGGGGGGG ANd LIN SHU IS WITH HIM AND LIKE IT'S SO CUtE I CAN'T THEY'RE RuNNING UP tHE STePS TO THE GATe AND NOOOOOOOO

AND WANG KAI'S V.O. SOuNDS SO DIFFERENT FROM HIS USUAL JING VOICE It'S SO HAPPY???? MY BOYS WERE HAPPY THEY WERE FREAKING BEST FRIENDS I KNEW IT I kNEW IT and LIN SHU WWAS SO CUUUUUTE LOOK AT THEMMMMM

(Also like they're wearing the same colors so I love that visually, obviously, but also lol Lin Shu changed his WHOLE physical appearance somehow to disguise himself but his clothing is EXACTLY the same what a loser)

So the gist of the V.O. is that my fave boys were each other's fave boys too and Jing got this mansion when he was just 17 and eagerly assured Lin Shu that as far as he is concerned it is Lin Shu's as well because Shu is is best friend and what is his is theirs as far as he is concerned and omg someone make these tears stop

(ALSO he mentions that Prince Qi was the one who found the place for him! How much older was Qi than these two when he died? My impression is old enough to be the impressive cool role model but young enough that they felt personally close to him too. I'm gonna guess mid-20s????)

The flashback ends with the camera lingering to watch the shades of these two laughing, affectionate, bright-faced boys running side by side through the gate and up to the house, running away from us, as we can do nothing but watch them rush blithely forward, knowing what horrible, unfair futures await them. It's so mean, and so effective. I LOVE it. I'm also left shaken not only by the unexpected glimpse of what Lin Shu and Jing's past lives were like and what they both have lost, but by the certainty that this short flashback must surely mean there are MORE flashbacks coming in future and OH NO but also OH yES GIVE ME ALL THE PAIN.

We return to present-day Lin Shu, who is standing gazing up those stairs, watching his past self disappear. This place hasn't changed at all, he says, quietly. It's just like how it was back then. MY HEART.

And now here comes Jing to greet his guest. He bows coldly but politely, and Mei Chang Su pays his respects too. I am in agony. Ting Sheng is very cute and bows all the way to the ground for Su, his savior, and Su helps him up with a smile and he's so sweet with kids you guys

Ting Sheng really lights up when he sees Fei Liu, who proudly bestows his gift on the kid. When Jing realizes what the gift is, he bristles and tries to give it back to Su, saying it is too valuable a present. And Su, wholly innocently, says the gift isn't from him, for goodness' sake, it is from Fei Liu, so go talk to him about it instead! Poor Jing is so confused by this, clearly unsure of how to deal with Fei Liu. The latter of whom promptly snatches the chain mail back from Jing's hands and plops it firmly back in Ting Sheng's arms. Su watches, not even bothering to hide his amusement, and Jing after a moment's inward struggle gives up and invites Su inside, effectively allowing Ting Sheng to keep the chainmail after all. Point to Mei Chang Su! The boys scamper off to play together or fight together or whatever and their fake dads head inside for their own meeting.

(Jing's outfit is especially beautiful today, btw. I missed you, Wang Kai.)

Jing introduces Su to his guard as his friend Su Zhe, and then the two of them retreat further to Jing's private study. Along the way, Su is plainly eating up the place with his eyes, these halls must be full of ghosts for him. He pauses to look out over a courtyard, and Jing pauses too, to confess that all those men they spoke with had been present when Su's arrival was announced: they had wanted to see the famous Su Zhe for themselves. So we took a detour? Su supplies, with mild good humor. Jing's subtly changing expressions here are a marvel: slight embarrassment at being found out, relief that Su is not affronted, a momentary glance of reevaluation like he is sizing up Su again, and then even a small smile as he relaxes just a little. Is our favourite prince warming up to the Divine Talent a little? Time will tell, I suppose! But this tiny exchange is certainly the closest thing to friendliness that has passed between these two so far, and contrasted with that flashback it's like a punch to the gut. Also, the MUSIC. The Sad Music is playing again, but it's being played by a flute or whistle or something instead of the deep strings that usually play it, so it feels tremulous and hopeful instead of melancholic and that makes it even worse and also sooooo much better. Once again, I take a moment to rage at how this OST isn't available to buy anywhere that I can find.

Anyway, they get to the study and it's very sweet how Jing notices Su looks unwell and inquires after his comfort and calls for one of his men to bring in more braziers to heat the room when Su says he is cold because remember Jing doesn't even LIKE Su. He is just a Good Boy. He also congratulates Su on his recent move, because apparently Mu Qing is a gossip and told Jing all about it, ahaha. Su tells Jing the reason for his visit is to express goodwill on behalf of Prince Yu: Jing will now be able to run the trial of the Duke of Qing without any difficulties. Okay, but that is what I was going to do anyway, says Jing, because of course he does. Su wryly asks whether Minister Qi had been helpful? It doesn't matter if he has, Jing responds, stubbornly unfazed. Whether he cooperates or not the case will still be tried the way it should be. He is so totally out of his depth, bless his heart. Su looks so--not happy, but lighter. Jing's unshakeable, forthright virtue must be so refreshing. The contrast between his demeanor in this conversation and his frayed-thin, irritable behavior the previous day is very obvious.

Meanwhile, Ting Sheng is proudly giving Fei Liu a tour of his new home. They go to the military training ground, where Ting Sheng says he spends most of his time. Sometimes even Prince Jing himself comes to train him, he says, and ugh that is the cutest mental image ever. Fei Liu snorts: Jing is a poor fighter, he tells his erstwhile student, in a tone that implies he thinks Ting Sheng deserves better, and Ting Sheng doesn't even defend Jing, he just grins in agreement because if Fei Liu says it then it MUST be true. I adore these kids' friendship and pray nothing bad happens to them in future. It's weird and cute and sort of sad seeing how simple their lives are, largely oblivious to all the machinations all around them and even involving them.

Li Gang, however, tries to hush Fei Liu and remind him to be respectful, and Fei Liu of course responds by elaborating: even General Meng is better than Prince Jing! (Somewhere, Meng probably feels suddenly cheerful and doesn't know why.) Li Gang tries to do more damage control, so Fei Liu continues on: I'm the best, he says. It isn't even bragging, he just says it like it is the obvious truth. One of Jing's commanders overhears this and looks very annoyed by it, to put it mildly. Uh, oh.

Back in Jing's study, Mei Chang Su is quizzing him about how he views the case. Jing lays out how he has examined the evidence and it's simple in his eyes: the Duke is obviously guilty. Su plays a sort of game with Jing by playing devil's advocate and tossing a variety of excuses and loopholes at him and Jing manages to thwart them all: the Duke is guilty, and justice will be served. Su is impressed and very proud of his (former????) friend. Then Su lays out some BRILLIANT advice to Jing: basically, Jing is going to continue to judge over cases that involve wealthy landowners, right? And a lot of them will be guilty of the same crimes as the Duke. But Su says Jing should be careful not to punish them all the same way, even if their criems are the same. Why? Because if they were all punished the same, they would feel commonly wronged by the Emperor and might form an alliance against him, united by a shared anger. If there is no apparent pattern to the severity of the punishment, however, then the landowners will be jealous of/suspicious of each other, and will be focused more on comparing their lot with that of their neighbors', and they will not be unified. BRILLIANT, I SAY. Jing agrees with the wisdom in this plan. Su recommends he lets off some of Yu's guilty allies lightly as a way of saying thanks to Yu for his support. Jing frowns: Yu should be fighting to save the Duke of Qing right now. Why is he instead helping Jing take down his own ally? You are now very important to him, Su smiles, slightly sarcastically. Jing mulls this over. This is all thanks to you, he tells Su. And he should thank him, but . . . Jing does not want people to think that he is friends with or supporting Prince Yu. He doesn't want to side with either of his terrible brothers. Su tries to assure him that people will understand, but Jing is not appeased.

What others might think is not my concern, he clarifies. However, the spirits of heroes still linger. I don't want them to think that I have finally surrendered to the others.

Su tries to comfort him: Since they were once heroes, they will know who you truly are. Jing does not look convinced in the slightest. HOW has he survived all these years surrounded by enemies and ghosts, never able to forget either?

Su stands up and paces the room a little to try to ease some stiffness and numbness in his legs, and then he approaches a bow that is displayed on its own plinth in the room and this is it, even after the flashback, THIS is the moment of this episode that kills me. Because immediately my whole brain is just OMG THAT MUST BE LIN SHU'S BOW FREAKING JING HAS KEPT IT ALL THIS TIME

Su reaches out to touch it, and Jing, who had been concerned about Su's discomfort because he is a Good Boy, immediately SNAPS at him: Don't touch it! Su freezes. Jing leaps to his feet. Badpoet dies.

Su almost whispers his apology, and Jing approaches him, with a very visible hitch in his breathing as he tries to settle himself after his sudden alarm and impulsive reaction. He looks as though he is fighting down the adrenaline rush of only barely avoiding a tragedy. Perhaps he did. But shaken as he is he also looks a little sorry for yelling harshly at his invalid guest. Jingmum raised him right.

Jing tries to explain, his eyes drawn to the bow almost as if against his will: Please don't take it to heart. This once belonged to my late friend. When he was alive, he never liked to have his belongings touched by strangers. Oh, my gosh, he isn't even so protective of this weapon because it is important or of sentimental value to HIM, it's because Lin Shu hated people touching his stuff, and Jing is a Good Friend, a Best Friend, and Su's face, hidden from Jing, looks like he, like Jing, is remembering for a moment this kid who cared about dumb stuff like that, this kid who was Jing's best friend and who is now dead, who lived a life happy enough that such small things could MATTER to him, and then he swallows hard, and bows to Jing, and apologizes for his rudeness, and this is It I CAN'T I CAN'T WHAT IS THIS SHOW HOW HAS IT MADE ME CARE SO MUCH IN JUST NINE EPISODES HOW CAN IT POSSIBLY DRAG ME DOWn FARTHER IN LIKE FIFTY MORE HOW DID ANy OF YOU WHo HAVE WATCHED THE ENTIRE THING EMERGE BREATHING ON THE OTHER SIDE

(Somewhere there exists a happier timeline where Jing tells Mei Chang Su not to touch the bow because Lin Shu hated strangers touching his stuff and Su says okay and then makes his most trollish eye contact with Jing and deliberately starts touching the bow as much as he dang well pleases and that is how Jing finds out Lin Shu and Mei Chang Su is the same person the end)

Meanwhile, a decent distance away from all this misery and bro-angst, the indignant commander at the training grounds is demanding who Fei Liu is since he thinks he is good enough to insult Jing. I'm Fei Liu, the boy replies, as if that is all the answer necessary, and as it turns out--it is! Another of Jing's men recognizes the name as the fighter who arrived with the Lord of the East Yangtze Alliance. The one who defeated Xia Dong and held his own against Meng! Yep, that's me, Fei Liu affirms. Everyone looks very impressed. We also get a scene with Fei Liu taking out some challengers to show off his skills to Jing's men, best moment being where he grabs two men charging at him by the spers they are wielding and just smashes them onto the ground, aha. He's escalating the situation, basically. I wonder if Su was counting on that to happen.

Also meanwhile, at the palace, Yu and CP are arguing in front of the Emperor about who to make the new Minister of Revenue and oh this levity is SO NEEDED my soul is revived by CP's indignant squeak at Yu and the Emperor's fed up You have been arguing for more than an hour now LOL I swear at least half the Emperor's scenes so far have just been him watching his sons squabble. I would feel bad for the Emperor, except for what he did to Jingmum, so I don't. He deserves this. Also I guess he is also somewhat responsible for whatever ruined Lin Shu's life so he doubly-deserves this. He dismisses the princes, who walk out very quickly after glaring at each other sidelong. I would so not be surprised if the instant they are out of sight they start pulling each other's hair or pinching each other or whatever. They fight like preschoolers.

After they are gone, some random official starts telling the Emperor that the princes had the right to express their opinions like that as the question of who will take the position of Minister of Revenue is a very important and pressing one. The Emperor concedes that point but also angrily indicates the massive stack of names in front of him on his table: he has too many people to choose from! The official says someone named Shen Chui is acting as interim Minister of Revenue so he can hold down the fort for now, don't worry about it. The Emperor suddenly narrows his eyes, interested. Shen Chui? he repeats. Aaaaand--end of episode!

A weird ending, but I remember reading somewhere that these episodes aired two at a time, so with that in mind it makes more sense. I don't know why the Emperor is interested in this name, but I know I will find out next time. In the meantime I'm still reeling from all the Jing and MCS goodness in this episode. I missed Jingyan the last couple episodes but he came back with a vengeance for this one, and I am SO excited for wherever the show is taking him and his weird relationship with Su-who-is-secretly-Shu. Terrified, yes, but also EXCITED. Next episode is episode 10 and I am officially in the double digits! Nine episodes of emotional trauma down, sooooooo many more to go. BRING IT.

#nirvana in fire #badpoet watches nif #nif ep9 #badpoet watches #long post #cdramas

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mei-totoro · 7 years ago

Text

love my bones (i)

✄ love my bones (i)

✄ pairing: anya (narrator) x wonho, anya x jungkook

✄ genre/warnings: angst, mature language, graphic content, futuristic, fantasy and slight romance

✄ summary: In the world Ulia, there live Holders and non-Holders. Holders are born with the ability to control one of the four elements in nature: water, earth, air, and fire. After years at the Academy of Holders, Anya has not yet unlocked her element. However, one day - after a series of unpredicted events - she unlocks her element and finds out the secret behind her family’s death.

✄ words: 2.6k

♔ prelude

“Honey, my baby, I love you much. Don’t forget who you are, the blood that runs through your veins and secret of your ancestors.” My mother took off her necklace and hung it around my neck. “Now be a good girl and get out of the house, I’ll get your brother and meet you in the front!” She screamed at me in the midst of the burning chaos. The heat of the fire threatened to burn my young tender skin, the smog crawled into my lungs, the dry heat created hot tears as I grabbed my coat and ran out of the burning house. Panting, I stopped in the front yard waiting for my parents to come out with my brother. From the loud cracking noises and the sounds of sirens in the distance, I heard a baby’s cry. It was a cry of pain, fear, and sadness.

“Mom?! Dad?!” I screamed helplessly at the burning house.

The sounds of cracking became louder, the flames engulfing the wooden posts of the house grew larger, the smoke spread more violently, the cries turned to shrieks. I covered my face in my hands to wipe away the tears. But the moment I looked up: the house collapsed.

I gasped, sitting upright while grabbing a fistful of my blanket. Another flask back. Sweat rolled from my forehead down my neck as I gulped audibly in the dead of the night. Flipping my sheets over, I rolled out of the bed. My feet grazing the icy cold floor sending chills down my spine. I snuck my way out of the dorm room and downstairs to the common room. Grabbing one of the blankets and pouring a glass of water, I curled up on the sofa and looked out the tall glass window. The moon shone on the sleeping woods, where even wolves slept soundly and the lake which acted as the moon’s mirror at night by reflecting its elegant and beautiful features.

I laughed to myself - the moon never fought with the sun for its power, because it was content with its beauty, the sun was never jealous of the moon’s beauty because it had power. Why couldn’t people live like the sun and the moon? They balance the world, bring peace, and are content with what they have. If people were not so cruel, maybe I’d be living happily with my parents and younger brother…

- ~ -

The sound of the sliding door woke me up. The infamous languid authoritarian footsteps of the Dean echoed in the empty room. He snickered, shaking his head, “Tsk. When will she learn that the common room is not her room. Right, the poor orphan was probably never educated properly. If she wasn’t a Holders, she would probably be rotting with the commoners.” He proceeded by walking up the stairs to wake the others up. ‘If that asshole wasn’t the Dean, I would have already thrown him over the wall to feed the wolves.’ I kicked the blanket off and hurried upstairs to change and prepare for class.

The girls in my dorm room were already up getting ready for the day. Slipping into suits before securing the buckles of the armor, they headed out of the room - some fixing their hair while others applied discrete colors to their lips. The hexagonal plates on their sternums lit in all colors: blue for Water, red for Fire, white for Air and green for Earth. Those were the four divisions at the Academy, and the only ones left in Ulia. Apparently centuries ago, there used to be Holders from hundreds of different division in the world. However, when people were poisoned by greed and corruption, the world fell into a huge bloody mess during the fight for survival. Ultimately, only the masters of the four divisions remained to rebuild the world and reintroduce peace. Of course, I don’t know how much of it is true, but that’s what every citizen is taught in Ulia - Holder or non-Holder.

I changed into my suit before braiding my hair. As usual, my plate didn’t light up. It never has, and I never know whether it will ever light up… Am I really a Holder? Did the Lynx of Ulia read my blood incorrectly? What if I really don’t have powers to unlock? Sighing, I tuck my mother’s necklace into my suit and head towards the field.

- ~ -

“Hut, two, three, four - hut, two, three, four… c’mon, run along! No one is going to wait for you to finish your fucking laps. Run along.” Mr. Duff, on of the academies oldest professors yelled at us. The old man was a sixty year old, bony, grumpy, divorced man with no children who had probably gone through tens of midlife crises; yet he never failed to muster the energy to whack a lagger with his “magic stick.” Anyone hit by this “magic stick” will be graced with weeks of beautiful purple and blue bruises. After yelling at us, he turned away to sit inside the cool shed in the shade.

“The old man is fucking insane.” I heard a voice behind me say, “I can’t wait till he retires.”

We continued to run around the field, greeting the rising sun every time we completed a lap. The calm of the morning was disturbed when an Earth Holder, Edgar, in front of me accidently bumped into a Fire Holder, Wilson, causing him to trip.

“Watch where you are going, clumsy troll.” Wilson yelled mockingly joined my laughter of other Fire Holders.

“How the fuck was it my fault? You were running into my space!” Edgar hollered back venomously back up by other Earth Holders.

“Ha, how dare you accuse me of such immaturity and clumsiness. Unlike your type, Fire Holders are known for their agility. Watch me light up your sorry ass.” The nimble Fire Holder sent a blast of fire towards the Earth Holder who blocked it by creating a wall of earth. Sparks of scorched dirt rolled around, causing the crowd of students to back away.

“Hell, now you are asking for this. Don’t blame me if you end up a chunk of dirt in your foil mouth!” Then, the fight broke out. Edgar stomped four boulders from the ground and sent them flying to Wilson, who whipped out a ring of fire - blasting the boulders to pieces. Some students fled far away to avoid the chunks of soil and sparks of flames dancing in the sky while others watched the fight - egging them on.

Shortly, several professor, the Dean and Mr. Duff rushed to the scene. An expression of anger and disappointment painted on their faces.

“Edgar and Wilson!” The Dean cried. “Stop this childish quarrel right now or I will sentence you both to 2 months of bathroom cleaning duty!” The field quickly died to complete silence. The two Holders lowered their head in shame. “Now if you two gentlemen are ready to behave, follow me to my office. We have a few things to discuss.” The Dean said before turning his heels, whipping around his long coat and walking away.

The teachers, dispersed the crowd and told everyone to head to their morning classes.

- ~ -

Out of the many useless things the Academy taught us, one of them was “Weather Reading.” It was considered one of the oldest forms of art in Ulia and its traditions had to be passed down. The administrators claimed that as Holders, we were a part of nature and that also included being able to understand the environment around us and weather changes. On top of the utter uselessness of the class, it was also one of the hardest classes at the Academy. The different shapes of the clouds, the speed of the wind, the humidity, the shape of the moon and the intensity of the sun were all the little miniscule details one had to learn about to pass the class. Despite its difficulty, I chose the class because it is one of the only classes that allows Holders to leave the academy and enter the depths of the woods.

“Anya!” One of my close friends Thatiana called, “Do you know what the humidity of the soil is?” I knelt down to dig up a handful of the soil, feeling it in my hand before it fell apart through the cracks of my fingers to the ground.

“Hmm I think it is around 70 to 80% humidity, the soil must be near a body of water since it is impossible to reach that humidity with the recent dry weather.” I concluded as I let Thatiana record the numbers on the tablet. “Hey,” I stopped and turned to her, “you are a Water Holder - shouldn’t you be the one to decide that? Why do you make the non-Holder do it?” I stated lightheartedly.

“Hey! I may be a Water Holder but I’m no fan of digging my hands into dirty soil - it will get my nails dirty. And also who says you are a non-Holder! You are… but maybe your element is just a little stubborn … like your personality!” She retorted while laughing.

“Ah!” I hit her shoulder. “How can I possibly be more stubborn than you!?” I said teasingly while running away from her.

“Hey, you two! Get back to work, you have to finished taking all the measurement by the end of the hour.” Professor Whum hollered our way. “I know reading the weather is fascinating but don’t get too distracted.” She winked at us before skipping towards another group. Professor Whum was one of the weirder teachers at the Academy. She wore a pair of round glasses that resembled goggles, always had dirt on her face or in her hair and wore mismatched boots everyday. She was a simple representation of a blatant mess.

“Yes Professor Whum,” I reassured her with an artificial smile.

“Don’t worry,” Thatiana snickered, “We don’t have too much fun looking at the clouds.”

I headed further into the woods until I felt a raindrop on my nose. I looked up at the forming clouds, but my vision was limited due to tangled branches of the dense forest.

“Thatiana, wait here. I’ll climb a little higher to get a better view of the sky.” I said before hiking up the steep hill to the rocks. A large dark gray mass of clouds precipitated ominously towards our direction, expanding widely and rapidly.

A strike of thunder roared loudly from afar. The light drops of rain grew in number. A sense of fear and uncertainty washed over me. Screams erupted from below, as my classmates gathered their materials and fled back towards the school. Professor Whum hurried everyone to return to the Academy and back into its gates. I turned back to the sky. ‘Why is there suddenly a thunderstorm? We had been closely watching the weather for the past few weeks and Ulia’s Weather Reading masters have never been wrong - today was supposed to be a sunny day. What in the world is going on?’ Another strike of thunder interrupted my train of thoughts as I flinched.

“Anya! Anya! Where are you? We have to go back now!” Thaliana voice laced with terror rang from below. Rain began to pour more violently, soaking my hair completely. Beyond the overwhelming fear that sent sparkles coursing through my limbs, there was something about the way the rolling opaque gray clouds picked up speed, engulfing more and more of the forest in darkness. As if darkness was suffocating the last rays of light, I reached my hand into the light, watching the cloud’s shadow roll over my hand. I turned around to watch the darkness approach the gates of the Academy as small figures rushed through shielding their heads from the rain.

A source of warmth blossomed in my gut. A type of energy that was unexplainably nostalgic yet foreign - almost like the feeling of home and belonging. I raised my hand to cup a few drops of rain - ‘Was is the rain?’ The warmth grew and filled the whole expanse of my chest. I exhaled the breath I held for too long - a zap. I fixed my attention to my fingers. Zap. Crack. A dedicated thread of electricity formed between my thumb and index. The warmth traveled down my arms and spread through my hands. More sparks. Breathing deeply again, a tingling feeling flourished from my palm - creating threads of electricity between my fingers and across my palm. At every breath and contraction of my diaphragm, the energy multiplied.

From a distance, I sensed a growing bundle of energy in core of the clouds. In a split second, strike of thunder bolted down towards me - striking me. As if the clock had slowed down, I watched the lively shifting bolt approach and lung towards me. My palms caught the wild and heavy impact of the thunder as I watched the electricity spiral and encircle my arms and body. The heat became stronger and stronger. My arms and legs were covered in fluorescent white threads. The zaps multiplied by the second, getting louder and louder. I concentrated on my breath and brought my fists together. The electricity began to weave a sort of dome over my head. My body suddenly felt light, as if my body had forgotten the whole notion of gravity. The soles of my feet left the rock. The web of electricity wrapped further down to my hip and legs. The sphere wrapped neatly underneath my feet shutting me in.

I had created a force field of electricity around my body - protecting my body from the rain and the wind.

Sparks of electricity dance around my body as I floated higher and higher off the ground. For the first time, I felt free and invincible. While I watched my classmates through blazes of fire across the training room and soak each with whole tubs of water - I stood by the side patiently waiting for the day I would be able to unlock my element. Happiness coursed joyfully through my body. I was a Holder! I really was! I don’t know what kind but if I can control something - I am a Holder. I played in the force field, enjoying the new lightness of my body. Touching the bubble of electricity sent literal sparks through my arm. I closed my eyes and relished the warmth of the electricity prickling and tickling my skin.

As I floated higher and higher into the sky, I failed to realize another strike of thunder building up. When I saw a crack of light form in the distance darkness: I panicked. I raised my arms to cover my head but the thunder hit the force field, cracking it open instantly. The power of the bolt flung me violently across the woods. As if gravity finally woke up, my body turned heavy and was pulled downwards. Fuck. I flailed my arms in order to slow down my fall but all efforts were in vain. I fell on the thick branches of a big tree because falling flat on the hard ground.

“Anya! She is over here!” Thatiana screamed from a distance. As I laid completely limp and lifeless on the dirt, ropes of electricity spiraled around my body zapping periodically. After several violent zaps, my vision turned black.

a/n: idk if anyone will actually read this BUT im just putting this out here ha. since I got nothing to do in my spare time, I think im going to write again hehe c: idk when chapter 1 will be out but look forward to it :3 Jungkook and wonho will come in next chapter sorry haha

#love my bones #mywriting #bts scenarios #monstax scenarios

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iamjustthemoon · 4 years ago

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i’m missing finland again

I'm missing Finland again. an ache, in the deepest parts of where my heart starts, through the end of my stomach, with a flowing throb into the deep trenches of my upper intestines and a slow trickle down through the other organs that sit inside my waist. it’s an ache like the missing of a person.

My nostalgic memories of my every summer habits tattooed into my being, start pulling at me wondering why I am not revisiting these places. The smells and places growing strong in the storage sections of my brain. They sit deep within my hippocampus to neocortex, iron clad in the almond shaped amygdala forever binding these memories into the emotional whirlpool of what I consider me.

I ache when I leave, standing in the airport. That part hurts, just like the leaving of a lover, or a friend, or a family member you cherish. But then once on that plane, you look ahead, shift gaze forward, and it's onwards from here. You let the sinking sadness of the place float gently in the airwaves you are rocketing through, knowing you will be returning sometime, this pain is not forever.

Now, in this global crisis, this ache of missing has started to throb from the absence of this place, as I physically cannot go. The missing started like a whisper, and as the days tick past, the weeks then months, my body’s muscle memory starts to pull at the parts of me that remember

I start to use my imagination again. I tap into the pieces of my brain I haven’t actively exercised to their full potential. The child in us, who used to imagine everything; I use her now to get somewhere I want to be, but can’t. I let the shifting weather, with her cool whispers, remind me of the late summer Finnish days, always cool enough as the purple light of midnight sets around me. The clearer air and soft bird song, I let any inkling of similarity catapult me into a deep memory that I pull into and over me like the softest of blankets, covering my face and body into a sea of memory.

I use sensory triggered imagination to reach the spots of memory in my brain, then unlock them with the most powerful potential, as scent is the most rudimentary of senses. Smell has roots trailing back to single celled organisms interacting with the chemicals around them, tapping into our brain now wired with over 1,000 smell receptors, versus the 4 we have for sight, and 4 we have for touch. Smell unlocks the deepest parts of our

One whiff of a cool breeze, or the scent of cardamom, a mossy patch in the woods, or the laundry detergent my grandmother always uses, sends me rushing back into the space that I ache for. I hold on tightly to this space i’ve been catapulted to and sharpen my eyes of imagination to keep me floating there.

I miss crisp summer days, midnight sun; where evening turns to dusk turns to purple blueish pink light that lasts up to eleven o'clock at night, and the darkness only sets in for about two hours, and even then it’s a dark blueish dark, not completely black. the sun starts to rise again around 2 am, and once your eyes open fully at 7 or 8, the sun has already danced it way high into the sky and you feel as if you’ve just risen at half past noon.

I miss the clearness of the air and the forests, The simplicity of the birch trees and pine trees. the straightness of their trunks, and the mossy rocky undergrowth that blankets the forest floor. The sparse undergrowth of trees and small bushes. The stark contrast of the paper white birch trees; trunks of white with dark streaks of black that look painted on with deliberation, amidst the stick straight trunks of the dark brown pine trees. Small blueberry(bilberry) plants cover the forest floor. Unassuming and low to the ground, their small green leaves hidden amongst the piles of moss and other small greenery that speckles the ground. But once the season hits, little blue berries dot these small green low lying plants, and the abundance of these powerful sweet berries is overwhelming.

I miss the quiet of Helsinki. the stone walkways and smooth buildings with beautiful doors. The seagulls and the soft scent of salty air from the brackish Baltic sea. pastel painted old stone buildings that sit nestled together in a myriad of colors. the sloping dips of the stoney streets bordered by lines of soft colored stripes of buildings on either side. Burnt oranges, sandy yellows, deep ochres and mint greens.

I miss the marketplace hustle of vendors selling blueberries, strawberries, apples, lingonberry (puolukka), snow berries (lakka), large sugar snap peas, fish of all kinds (salmon, muikku), wooden bowls and spoons, reindeer leather, small metal souvenirs. The scent of cardamom and cinnamon lingering sweetly in the air from the freshly baked yeasty sweet breads all Finns eat with coffee.

I miss the clear bright blue sky. The clarity of it’s color cascading down to the tops of the trees and forests that are never far from sight. The reflective surface of the lakes that dot the quiet countryside, of rolling meadows and small, red wood houses, each one with it’s own small black sauna that sits on water’s edges.

I miss the glassy still lake at sunset, when the surface reflects the purple blue streaks of sky, the colors that bloom just after the sun touches the backs of the trees and disappears for only a few summer hours. The stillness of the water creates a mirror to amplify the watercolor sky that turns the whole view into a vivid painting. The hot, smoky heat of the wood smoked sauna still lingering on bare skin as i step into the cool, still, painting. I dip my legs in purple, pink, and slowly sink myself into the cold ripples, watching the heat steam off my warmed flesh and into the evening sky. The extreme contrast of temperatures brings me to a sense of rebirth, as I submerge my head underneath the cold water and bring it back up to surface. Nothing feels better than this.

I miss the grocery stores; the potatoes in massive barrels. New potatoes are smaller than the ones in the states; about the size of an egg. You can buy them cleaned (washed and scrubbed) in one barrel, slightly dirty in another barrel, and then completely dirt covered, no cleaning yet, in another barrel. This being the cheapest option, as you take them home and scrub them in the sink, or lake, with a potato scrubbing brush, or glove, or by rolling them in the sand at the shores of the lake, as we did in Puumala when I was a kid. the aisles of endless milk products. rows and rows of cartoned yogurts in every flavor, quark and cottage cheese, and plastic packaged blocks of squeaky cheeses. the meat and seafood counter with the majority dedicated to slabs of fresh fish. Salmon. Fresh salmon, salted salmon, dill salmon, smoked salmon, plank salmon.

I miss the smells of raw birch and finnish pine; smells that linger in beautiful well designed buildings. Classic Scandinavian architecture with it’s clean lines, light wood, large windows; perfect use of space and light.

I miss the ferries that meander around the island speckled coast. the salty air and ocean spray. the tiny little islands still inhabited, with traditional little houses painted in red, or yellows, sometimes whites. the quiet of the calm Baltic, softly wavy waters and continuous string of little islands as far as you can see.

I miss the rolling coastline of the edges of helsinki. the small islands that dot the surrounding baltic sea, and the small bridges that connect them. I miss kallios, the epically smooth rock that reveal themselves at the edges of water, and speckled in forests. their smooth skin peaking like the backs of whales cresting the ocean surface. the secrets of time told by these rocks, smoothed down by the weather over eons of years. The silkiness of this stone is so gentle, it sends soft tingling sensations down to the bottom of my feet when I run my hands down the sides. with especially large ones like small mountains, kids like to make slides out of their smooth curved surface, marked by silky ribbons of use cascading down the sides.

I miss the Helsinki airport. It's quiet silence, not eerie but welcoming. soft, padded sounds in a pristine clean space, light wood and floor to ceiling glass windows. Sometimes soft bird chirping sounds are heard in the bathrooms as ambient noise. The quiet in the airport is what gets me. It feels as if only two or three planes land a day, and spaced so evenly apart that the scattered speckling of people makes the space feel like not a bustling hub of international air travel, but a quiet abandoned, but well kept modern shopping center, hushed but breathing. the portal to my entering this sacred spot of mine.

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trufflerabbit13 · 4 years ago

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Searching For Brothers: CHAPTER V: My Turn

CHAPTER 5 Word count: 3.3k

CLEMENTINE P.O.V.

It's been three months since Ace left our small island. And after three months, we finally hear the first news about him.

I hummed as I read the newspaper while sitting in the same tree I did with Ace after my biological older brother's death.

"Impressive..." I mutter as I read Ace's first bounty. And the name.... Fire Fist Ace....

My eyes stayed glued to his wanted poster in fascination. It really was him...

Ace was seen cockily grinning into the camera; his signature hat was on his head while a fire burned on his palm.

My older brother got his hand the sacred fruit of the Devil himself... Knowing him, he probably ate it thinking it was a typical fruit and didn't have a single knowledge what it actually was.

I laughed jumping off the tree, easily landing on the ground with a light thump. I shaded my eyes with my hand and looked up and stared up at the branch that I was sitting on moments ago.

Seven years really made our tree grow... The tree that Ace and I was easily able to climb has grown so tall, I could barely see our branch.

I laughed slightly and placed the newspaper in my coat as I walked through the silent forest.

I was happily walking when my right foot got caught on something, my arms flailing as I tripped and fell forwards. My hat flew in the air but safely landed back on my head where I laid face down on the ground.

I groaned in pain and laid there for a second. Eventually, I lifted my head up to see what was tangled to my feet.

My eyes widened in shock as I stared at the vine that got tangled to my feet. And on the vine was a strange looking fruit.

I immediately had an idea what it was. After the long seven years of living on this island, I know what kind of vegetation grows on this island. This fruit was definitely not originated from here....

The unrealistic almost poisonous looking color, the weird shape and pattern on its skin... Although extremely unlikely, the best describing thing I knew was an Akuma no Mi, a Devils fruit.

I carefully took the spiky blackish purple fruit into my hand examining it. Around the fruit, I could see small white dots that looked like seeds.

I quietly stared at the fruit, looking at it in concentration. After a moment, I laughed shaking my head. I'm so stupid. There's no way a Devil's fruit would appear on this island which was located in the middle of nowhere.

However... If you think about it, Luffy did obtain a fruit on this island, although Shanks was responsible for it... And if this were really a Devil's fruit, me eating it wouldn't be bad, right?

I mean, both Luffy and Ace ate one....

There's even a possibility I'm over thinking this. It might not be even an Akuma no Mi.

With slight worry, I carried the dangerous looking fruit to my mouth and bit into it.

My nose scrunched up in disgust as the flavor hit my tongue. The fruit was crunchy and had a disgusting bitter taste to it. Forcing down the bile at the back of my throat, I swallowed the cursed fruit.

I looked down at the fruit I had in hand and gasped when I saw a completely different looking fruit. It looked normal now...

How in the world...

But there's definitely was a place I took a bite out of.

In silence, I sat on the forest floor in confusion.... What did I just eat....? I continued to stare down at my hand in worry. I felt normal... I seem to look normal.... But what changed?

I stood up and stretched my arms over my head. But I froze and gasped as I watched my hands disappear...

I fell to the ground in shock and looked at my hands. They were there....

Cautiously, I waved my hand slightly. My mouth opened in shock as a purple and navy blue hole like thing appeared around me.

Slowly, I placed my hand through the hole and gasped as I watched my hand disappear.

I jumped in fright as something touched me from behind. And at the same exact moment, I felt my hand bump into something as well.

Frightened, I turned around and gasped. From another hole like thing, my hand was emerging out of it. I looked back at the first hole where I put my hand through... And I turned back... And see my hand coming out of a different hole....

Wow....

~*~

I sat in Makino's bar as I quietly ate a cake. For once, the bar was empty, leaving Makino and I the only ones in the small place.

"Clemie-chan, I'm almost done with the clothes you asked me to make for you," Makino chirped as she washed the piles of dishes.

I paused mid-chew and looked up at Makino in surprise.

Makino laughed at my expression as she dried her hands, "I'll be done for sure by the time you take off. Your clothes you're wearing are nice, but I have a feeling the dress I'm making is going to be perfect for you."

My eyes traveled down to the clothes I was wearing. It consisted of a navy blue dress with black and white frills.

Even after running away from my noble family, I still liked wearing similar clothes I wore back then. I did, however, start to wear colors like navy blue and black, colors that Sabo always wore.

A faint smile made its way to on my lips as I looked at the counter where I placed my top hat and goggles. I was disappointed that it was in a pretty bad state, after seven years, surviving through many things, it was almost destroyed.

"I could fix it for you, you know?" Makino's feminine voice stated.

My blue eyes nervously shifted to the kind women before darting towards my hat.

Should I?

I stared at the top hat that was in a sad condition.

"Onegai shimasu..." I mutter as I weakly handed Makino the hat.

The dark haired female looked at me with worry but took the hat anyways. She knew that I haven't let the hat go since my brother's death.

Suddenly feeling bare without my hat on my head, I stood up, eager to return home. I placed a coin on the counter, fixing my dress.

"Clemie-chan, I'll fix it up and add some things so it'll match your outfit. Come back in two hours or so! I'll get it done as quickly as I can!" Makino shouted at me as I exited the bar.

I sent her a graceful look before the wooden door closed.

I quietly walked through the towns crowded streets, my heels clicking on the concrete.

"Oh, Clementine! Take a peach with you!"

"How are ya doing lassy?"

"It's been a while since I've seen you, Clementine!"

I smiled and gently waved at all the people who greeted and stopped me from walking back into the mountain. By the time I stepped into the forest, my arms were full of gifts I received from the people from the village.

"Dadan and Luffy are going to be happy..." I muttered to myself as I looked at the pile of food and alcohol that were in my arms.

"Sekai Beya...." I muttered. In seconds, I stood in front of a grassy field instead of the forest. My eyes went to the small house on top of the grassy hill. Aiming for the house, I slowly walked towards it.

After months of training hard, I finally understood what kind of Akuma no Mi I ate in the forest.

I was able to control space and dimensions.... I had the Kukan Kukan no Mi...

I was actually astonished as soon as I found out what fruit I ate. After hours of searching the books of known and recorded devil fruit, I found one description that matched the one I ate.

It had originally belonged to a highly talented pirate in the New World. My eyes widened when I read he was often seen with Gol D. Roger, being a friend of the Pirate King. Reading the description, I found out great information.

The man was able to control space and create different dimensions. A shiver went down my back when I read that he was able to make things and people disappear and never appear again.

My fascination grew when I read how he created a world of his own. It stated that in his dimension he was able to do anything while being in it, create anything. One thing that made me astonished was when it was written that he was able to bring anything back to the real world...

Anything....

It took me hours and days of hard training, but finally, I was able to make a dimension of my own. A small place with an endless green grass field and a bright blue sky.

I opened the small door of the house and walked in, placing the food and drink on the table.

I smiled as I wished for an apple in my hand. I cheered in my mind as a blood red apple appeared out of thin air and fell into my hand.

I carried the juicy red fruit to my mouth and bit into it, making a loud crunch, the sweet, fresh flavor spreading over my tongue.

Apple in hand, I exited the house, thinking of the forest again. Seconds later, I was walking through the green forest heading towards Dadan's house.

~*~

"Clemie!!!! I'M HUNGRYYYYY~ FOOOOOD!!!!!"

I sighed as Luffy's rubber legs wrapped around my body, stopping my movement.

I frowned as my hat Makino fixed for me slipped over my eyes, blocking my sight. The black lace veil she added landed on my face making me irritated.

"Luffy, even if I were going to make you something, I wouldn't be able to if you clung to me like that," I grumbled as I struggled to get his stretchy limbs off of my body.

The younger boy immediately lets me go and looked at me pleadingly.

"Clemie!!! I want to eat your cooking!!!!" Luffy whined as he rolled on the ground having a small fit. My lips stretched into a straight line as I looked at Luffy in confusion.

"Why the sudden demand Luffy?" I questioned as I tilt my hat back onto my head so it wouldn't fall off.

Luffy stopped his movement and sat up while crossing his arm and pouted.

"You're leaving in two days!!!"

Astonished by Luffy's statement, I laughed loudly, which was not like me. I easily picked up Luffy from the floor and hugged him tightly. At 5'4 Luffy was still shorter than me by few inches, but you were positive that he would catch up in a few years.

"Well, you know what Luffy?" I questioned as I squeezed him gently.

"What?"

I smiled widely and took my little brother's hand in mine, "we're going to party like pirates until I leave!!!! To do that, we're going to need a ton of meat!"

Luffy's eyes immediately sparkled as drool came out of his mouth, "NIKUU!!!"

Giggling at his expression, I lead him into the forest, searching for our prey that was going to become our feast.

~*~

I quietly stood in front of a mirror as I examined myself.

"I can't believe it's been eight years already...." Makino muttered as she did a final check on the outfit she had made for me.

My eyes softened when I first looked at this dress. Everything of it reminded me of my older brother...

Makino must have known how much I thought about Sabo and designed my dress like this.

Like the color Sabo-nii used to wear, my skirt was dark navy blue that was up to my lower thigh. Under the blue cloth were layers of white and black frilly clothing that made it slightly puffy.

Tucked neatly into my skirt was a light blue, long-sleeved dress shirt that reached my neck. And over the white dress shirt was a jacket of the same color as my skirt. At the shoulder, it puffed out, a blue and white ribbon placed on it. And at my neck where the cloth of the dress shirt covered was a ribbon tied to it like a choker.

I proudly smiled at myself and fixed my skirt before running my fingers through my slightly shorter, thick blonde hair. I certainly looked quite like how my brother did...

My fingers found it's way to my neck where my shirt covered, where a black chocker was clasped. Yesterday, after cleaning up the mess we made, all the mountain bandits gathered around me and presented it to me. After thoroughly questioned each of the men, making sure none of the bandits stole it, I thanked each of them as they sobbed into each other.

"You brats are always growing so fast..." I turned around at the rough voice.

My eyes connected with the large, curly orange haired female that stood by the door. She had her usual cigarette in her mouth that she chewed on. I smiled at Dadan as I walked up to her until I was directly in front of her.

"Dadan, thank you for everything!" I grin up at the female, "you and Makino have acted as a mother for me, without you two, I would never have been able to survive. I'm so glad I came to live with you guys. Dadan, I will always know and think you as my mother!" With that, I wrapped my arms around the taller female.

It took a second for Dadan to react but she too hesitantly hugged me back.

"Y-you're embarrassing me!" Dadan stuttered as she let go.

She hid it poorly as she sniffled and cried into a handkerchief as she turned her back towards me.

I giggled at her action and eyed Makino who also seemed slightly teary eyed.

"Alright," I mumbled, a look of determination appearing in your eyes, "it's about time I go..."

I grabbed the small brown bag off the ground and threw it over my shoulders as I walked onto the wooden floor, making my heels click on them.

I stood by the door for a second, giving the rundown house a final look, it's going to be a while until I come back here...

My eyes sadly looked at Dadan as she cried into her handkerchief, I knew she wasn't going to see me off with the rest of the bandits. They wouldn't want to scare off all the villagers...

"Thank you guys for everything...." I muttered as I smiled at them brightly, "I'll always think all of you as my family!"

That seemed like the last remaining straw, every single of the bandits started sobbing and wailing.

I sweat dropped with Makino and laughed before waving at them goodbye.

~*~

I stood on the medium sized boat that I personally bought myself.

"Clemie-chan, here. I also made this, make sure to use it, you burn quite easily..." Makino smiled at me as she handed me a black and blue sun umbrella.

I picked it up in my hand and looked at it, twirling it around my wrist. I smiled to myself, this definitely could become a weapon...

"Thanks, Makino, take care of Luffy for me please?"

The older female nodded and gave me a quick hug before exiting my boat.

"Luffy, I'll see you at sea!!!!" I yelled as I grinned at my younger brother.

Luffy returned my smile as waved with his straw hat in his hand.

"BYE CLEMIE!!!!!"

I laughed and waved at all of the villagers that came to see me off. "Oi, Clemie-chan are you going to be ok without carrying anything else?" One of the villagers questioned as they looked at me with worry.

I smiled and shook my head, "I'll be fine, remember, I have my Devils fruit, I can easily make things pop out."

As a demonstration, I imagined a piece of meat in my mind. Waving my hand in the air, a purple and black portal opened up.

Without hesitation, I stuck my hand through the black hole pulling out a large piece of meat.

I quickly tossed it at Luffy who caught it without much trouble. Smiling at the mayor, I pulled down my boat's mast so the wind will carry me forward.

"Take care Clemie-chan!"

"Stay safe!"

"Watch out for perverts!!!"

"CLEMIE I WILL BECOME PIRATE KING!!!!!"

I shook my head at Luffy's loud voice and waved my arms above my head. I turned around and looked at the ocean with excitement.

But loud screams of fear made me snap my head towards the island once again in worry.

I watched in confusion as all the villagers screamed as they scrambled away from the dock.

My eyes widened in shock as a fairly large animal jumped off the port, soaring into the sky.

My pink lips opened in shock as a silent scream escaped my mouth as the large, cat-like animal jumped onto my boat making the whole thing shake and water splash everywhere.

"R-Roki!!!" I gasped as the tiger-like animal pushed me onto my back as it laid on me.

The feline purred as it rubbed his large head that was twice the size of my own head on my stomach.

I quickly realized what happened and jumped up pushing Roki off of me.

For a second I was frozen, not knowing what to do. I eventually sighed when I noticed how much we drifted away from land. I wouldn't be able to bring Roki back....

I let a tired sigh out and took my hat off.

"Well, Roki, it looks like you're coming with me...." For a second I looked at the feline.

"Can animals be first mates too?" I mumbled the question out to myself.

#one piece #one piece ff #one piece fanfic #one piece anime #one piece manga #luffy #ace #sabo #fanfic #anime ff

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sending-the-message · 7 years ago

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Bless You by griseldaraven

I was over today and all the bullshit that came with it. I barely had enough time to stuff a sandwich into my mouth between all of the phone calls, emails, and unscheduled meetings we were receiving from frantic parents for the beginning of school. It’s not like they or everyone at the main office hadn’t been through the process many times before.

I kicked off my shoes at the door, groaning as my cramped feet slipped out of the tiny heels I had been wearing all day and touched the cool wood floor.

Miles, my overweight tabby cat, sauntered up to me rubbing at the bottom of pants begging for some pets.

“Did my big boy miss me?” I cooed as I bent over and scratched behind his ears eliciting more headbutts to my open hand.

I looked around my apartment I rented by myself. It represented me well, calm and cozy with soft warm colors decorating most of the apartment. It was a perfect setting to be lazy all day which is just how I like it.

The papers I had sitting on my coffee table were scattered on the floor along with a decorative wooden ball from the center piece of the table. I gave Miles the stink eye and went over to collect the items off the floor placing them back where they were before.

“C’mon you goober.” I waved to Miles. “Let’s make us some dinner.”

I made a simple pasta, having no desire to put much effort into my dinner and gave Miles some food from the cat bag. I poured myself a glass of wine and settled into the couch. 20/20 was on and I quickly became engrossed in the story unfolding before me of rape on a college campus. Nothing like coming home to watching a few entitled assholes being thrown in jail. I flipped through some of the papers I was supposed to review, switching my attention back and forth between the two tasks for a couple of hours.

I heard a creak come from the back bedroom and looked behind to find the tail end of Miles disappearing into my bedroom.

A soft, almost distant meow floated down the hall and into the living room. Miles suddenly erupted into a slew of meows that were guttural and quick like he does when he has a ‘gift’ for me before they turned into hisses.

“Shut up!” I yelled having a hard time hearing the tv over him. He ignored my request and after a few moments I huffed, shuffling to my bedroom to see what he wanted.

“What’s your problem dude?” I leaned down and patted his back hoping to stop his distress but with no avail. He sat in the corner of my room, staring towards my bed and the window next to it. I squinted, hoping a rat or no other creepy crawler was hanging out over there. I did a sweep of the rest of the room and found nothing that could possibly elicit such a strong reaction from my usually quiet cat. I shook my head and swept Miles up, taking him back to the living room with me and forced him to watch the next episode of 20/20.

The episode had just ended, leaving me simmering in anger, when a FaceTime call from my best friend, Tara, came in. Her and her daughters face popped up onto the phone screen and their two large smiles had me smiling back.

“Hi my love.” I waved at the one year old as she tried to grab at the phone. She gave a laugh and tried for the phone again.

“How was work today?” Tara asked after laying the baby down into the crib.

“Hell. I swear parents are so worrisome for no reason. We had three parents show up today, without a scheduled appointment might I add, and proceeded to question if the handbook was done so they would know what clothes they could buy for their kids and how the enlarged budget for sports was going to be used.”

“Aw, don’t you love working with schools? Such tranquility.” We both laughed knowing how hectic the beginning of school could be.

“Did you see the news today?”

“No.” I answered honestly, taking another sip of wine.

“They said there was a big storm coming our way so all types of critters are going to try and seek shelter from it. So make sure to close your windows tonight. Can you imagine waking up to a cockroach or centipede chillin’ on your face? Nasty!”

“Ew.” I scrunched my face in disgust at that thought. “Guess I’ll have to get my fan out tonight. Hopefully I can find it.”

“It’s definitely somewhere, you hoarder. What is Miles doing back there?” She asked interrupting her line of thought and her eyes trained behind me towards my hallway. “I can see his shadow running back in forth in your room all crazy.”

“What do you mean? He’s sitting right here next to me?” I tipped the phone down showing her the blob sitting in my lap.

“Oh, it’s probably just the trees outside of your window. The wind has already picked up bad. All the shit in our backyard is everywhere.”

I shook my head in disapproval as if the wind was a child that was being scolded. I was about to ask how her day was when a loud wail sounded through the phone.

“Shit, I got to go Em is crying. I’ll talk you tomorrow. Love ya.” She puckered her lips and gave an air kiss before hanging up. I sat there for a moment, the phone sitting firmly in my hand as I stared blankly at the tv. The hairs on my neck stood up and Tara’s statement creeped into my mind.

I slowly turned my head looking over my shoulder and stared down the hall at my bedroom. There were shadows dancing on the floor looking like they were coming from inside the room. I craned my head further to get a better look and saw the shadows resembled branches and leaves swaying in the wind. I sighed in relief, shaking my head for letting Tara freak me out.

Although I loved living alone, I sometimes found my imagination running wild whenever I hear a creak or noise that is out of place.

I turned up the volume on the tv again not wanting my thoughts to wonder and switched to the local news channel. If this storm was bad enough we may not be able to make it to work tomorrow. So sad. Thank you Claire.

Todd, a local news reporter stood in the middle of a dark street in a hoodie and rain boots.

Good evening! As you can see the morning clouds and drizzle have intensified over the course of the day and are expected to bring in multiple inches of rain in the next few hours and continue throughout tomorrow morning. We are expecting road and lane closure beginning tonight and the possibility of flooding. Temperatures are predicted to fall in the next few hours with lows in the mid 40’s and highs in the low 50’s. As we continue to monitor this storm, we encourage all to use extreme caution when travelling. And remember, turn around, don’t drown. Back to you Claire.

“Did you hear that miles? Sounds like it’s gonna be a doozy tomorrow. I may not even make it to work.” I walked back to the kitchen and sat my bowl in the sink. I grabbed a cookie from the jar and stared at the bottle of wine contemplating if I should pour myself another glass.

In other news, a recent string of break ins has had the-

“I think I deserve another glass if I do say so myself.” I decided, grabbing another cookie and pouring myself another glass.

It has been the 8th reported one in the last two months. Police are urging citizens to lock all windows and doors when away from-

I stuffed the empty wine bottle into the trash and stuffed one of the cookies in my mouth when I heard a loud bang resonate from the back of the apartment. I jumped and grabbed my chest, my heart beating wildly as I tried to find the source of the noise.

A loud clap of thunder shook the apartment and a quick burst of lighting followed, causing the power to cut out and leaving the apartment shrouded in darkness. I walked to the back bathroom peering in and finding the small plant I kept on the windowsill broken on the ground. Another strike of thunder and lightning came again, giving a quick illumination of the apartment.

I cleaned up the mess as quickly as I could with the light on my phone and resumed my position back on the couch watching the storm unfold outside. An unsettling whistle noise ripped through the house as the wind began to blow harder outside making the whole setting more unsettling than usual.

I finished my glass of wine and cookie and decided to call it a night in case the weather predictions were wrong and I had to go to work anyway. Miles followed me around as I cleaned up and did my nighttime routine in the bathroom before plopping down into his own bed in the living room.

I slid into my bed, the sheets cool on my exposed skin. I settled back onto the pillow and looked out into the darkness. It looked as if most of the block lost power. Even the streetlights along the street were out making the night devoid of any light. I could hear Mile’s as he used the litter box on the other side of the apartment and listened to the beating of the rain on the window. I stared into the darkness, my imagination beginning to create shapes as I thought back to the report about little creatures trying to get into buildings to find safety.

My eyes slowly grew heavy as the shapes of animals danced behind my eyelids. Just as I was falling asleep, a small sneeze built up in my nose and escaped suddenly. I sneezed once more before swiping my nose with my finger and closing my eyes again. From the dark corner of my room, slicing through the thick silence, came a low, gravelly voice in a harsh whisper.

“Bless you.”

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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gothchic6 · 5 years ago

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Silver’s Skater Girl Chapter 15: Strangers That Seem To Know Me

Disclaimer: gothchic6 does not own Pokémon.

With the Team healed, we can finally head out to Ilex Forest. Dusk, Spirit, and Forest are healed, but still tired, so I switch Zellie to the front of the party instead. She jumps out of her Poké Ball, and grins at me, eager for training.

"You excited to go through Ilex Forest and train," I question her as we start walking towards the gate.

'Yeah! I just hope I don't get poisoned again,' Zellie mutters sheepishly.

"Hey, poison happens, and if it happens again, we have Antidotes. You'll be fine.'

Zellie's face relaxes, and she whips her tails around my legs in relief. I give her lots of head scritches before we finally head out.

I decide not to use a Repel as we go so that Zellie can train by battling the local Pokémon.

The first wild Pokémon we come across is a Weedle, no surprise. These Pokémon are surprisingly weak compared to what we fought in Azalea Gym, so I don't think Zellie will have any problems defeating them.

Zellie one-shots the Level 6 Weedle with her Water Gun attack. She then proceeds to do the same to another Weedle and a Zubat. But these Pokémon are too weak to actually level Zellie up. Unless we beat a lot of them. Game on.

We walk up to a slight clearing, and we can see a beautiful wooden shrine with a red roof up ahead. The only problem is that this tiny, annoying tree is blocking our way. I remember something Bugsy told me back after we beat him,

"Do you know the benefits of the Hive Badge? If you have it, Pokémon up to Level 30 will obey you, even traded ones. Pokémon that know Cut will be able to use it outside of battle, too."

So I have the gym badge, but I don't have Cut, aka HM01. So I guess we're not going this way.

Zellie and I spot a path to the right, and then we spot an athletic looking young guy in his late teens/early twenties further along the path. He seems to be worried about something down further ahead. Since he has his back turned to us, I go up and tap him on the shoulder.

"Ah!" He spins around quickly, startled by my tap. I hold my hands up in surrender, letting him know I'm not here to hurt him.

"Sorry, but I noticed you were looking a little stressed out, and Zellie and I were wondering what's going on?"

"My dad's going to kill me! His precious wood-cutting Farfetch'd ran off into the forest. And I don't have enough gym badges for them to want to listen to me. Could you possibly go find them for me? I'll give you something good if you do."

I think about his proposal for a sec, and then reply, "Sure, why not. I'll help you out, you'll give me something nice… It's a win win!"

"Oh my Arceus, thank you! My dad is a scary guy when he's mad, so you're really helping me out!"

"Yeah, it's no problem," I respond, and I can't help but think about my dad, who I never knew past the age of four, "My Gran was mean enough for both parents. I get it."

"Okay, so, there are two Farfetch'd. The only way to catch them is to sneak up on them from behind. I've tried luring them to different parts of the forest, but they always run away from me. But if you want to grab their attention, try stepping on some sticks. That'll make them notice you!"

"Sweet! Thanks for the advice! Zellie and I will try our best," I say as we walk further down the path.

I see a large mossy rock ahead, and next to that, a large pile of sticks, just like what he'd said. We turn to the left, and behind another mossy boulder is the first Farfetch'd. It's not looking over towards us, but when I step on the sticks, it turns to face our direction.

I notice another pile of sticks directly to the right of the second mossy boulder. Since the Farfetch'd is looking down towards us, I decide to sneak to the right, purposely passing the second pile of sticks.

Zellie and I walk up, to the left, and down in a circle, not making any noise so it doesn't notice us. Sneaking up behind the first Farfetch'd, I hastily scoop him up in my arms, and carry him kicking and squealing to the guy.

"You got the first one," he exclaims in delight, "Thank you! Now, I think the second one wandered a little deeper in the forest. It might be a little bit more of a challenge to sneak up on him."

"Not a problem, we should be back soon."

Zellie and I walk down the path again, but instead of going up past the two boulders, we venture further right down the path.

We come up to a split path. There are two mossy boulders on the left, and one on the right. Something out of the corner of my right eye sparkles, so we walk over there.

To my surprise, there is a small yellow diamond shaped item that I recognize as a Revive on the ground. I pick it up and put it in my bag. That will definitely come in handy for the next Gym Battle. I'm especially grateful for it since the Poké Marts don't seem to sell them until you get a certain amount of Gym Badges.

The rest of the right path is a dead end, so we walk over to the left. Walking past the two boulders on the left, we notice that there are three choices to go: left, middle, and right. I decide on left.

Zellie and I walk up through the left path, spotting the second Farfetch'd at the end of it. As soon as we get close enough to catch it, it spots us, and runs to the right. It hides it a small crook between three trees, staring at us.

I notice a path going up to the left of the second Farftech'd. There are two piles of sticks that Zellie and I have to step on to go through the path. The loud noises startle the Farfetch'd again, and he turns to stare through the trees at us.

The path curves to the right, and when we venture that way, Zellie and I notice another pile of sticks. We purposely stomp on them loudly, turning the Farfetch'd's attention towards us again. I'm thinking that if Zellie and I can silently go back the same way we came, we could sneak up on the Farfetch'd.

I decide to test this out, Zellie following inaudibly behind me. We go back the way we came, deliberately avoiding all piles of sticks. When we round the corner, the Farfetch'd is still turned towards where it heard us before. Zellie and I make our move.

"Farfetch'd!" He shouts as I wrap my arms around him. He tries to struggle out of my grip, but I manage not to budge long enough to deliver him to the Charcoal Guy's son.

"You found the other one," he says delightedly as I place the Farfetch'd next to him on the ground, "Now my dad's not going to kill me! Than you so much Miss—"

"The name's Calypso," I interrupt him, "and like I said, no problem. I get the angry parent thing. Anyway, what was that thing you were going to give me?"

He goes to speak, but is cut off by a shout in the distance. Suddenly, a middle-aged man comes running up to us. By his features, I can tell that this is the father that this guy was worried about.

"Son! What happened? I sent you in here over a half hour ago to cut down wood for Charcoal! It doesn't take more than a few minutes to cut down."

The son bows his head down sheepishly. "Sorry, Dad, the Farfetch'd ran away from me again because I don't have any Gym badges."

The father looks down at both Farfetch'd, and starts, "Well, both Far and Fetch'd look okay," he says as he turns towards me, "and you're the one who found them? Without them, we wouldn't be able to cut trees for Charcoal. Thanks, kid!"

"Hey, it's no problem," I reply, silently hoping that the son will keep his part of the deal.

"Now, how can I thank you? I know! Here, take this," the father says as he pulls out what look like a Technical Machine out of his pocket and hands it to me.

"That's the HM Cut. Teach that to a Pokémon to clear small trees. Of course you have to have the Gym Badge from Azalea to use it."

I beam happily at his gift. "Thank you so much! My team and I just came from challenging the Azalea Gym. We needed this to get through the forest and up to Goldenrod City."

"I'm glad we were about to help each other out! Hey, if you're even in Azalea Tow again, check out my son and I's Charcoal shop! It's the house directly to the right of the Gym," he finishes before walking back towards Azalea Town, his son following behind him.

Zellie has been oddly quiet during this whole exchange. I look down towards her, and I can tell she's been day-dreaming. I gently tap her on her shoulder, and she comes to.

I decide that Forest is the best Pokémon to teach HM01 Cut to. He decides to replace Wrap with Cut.

"Hey, now that we have Cut, we can make it past that one tree before the shrine. Follow me!"

Zellie and I hustle towards the irritatingly tiny tree. I let Forest strut his stuff. "Forest, use Cut!"

Forest looks at the tree sharply before completely obliterating it with his right vine.

"Yay, thank you, Forest! Did you want to stay out and train with Zellie, or did you want to rest in your Poké Ball for now?"

'I think I'll stay and train with you and Zellie, I suppose. I should keep my vines moving in order to heal from when that overgrown crocodile nearly ripped off my left appendage.'

"All right, you guys, follow me," I direct Zellie and Forest, who follow behind me as we step over the sad tiny fallen tree.

We walk up to the beautifully painted Forest Guardian Shrine. Its red roof glistens brilliantly as we approach it. I can tell that there's definitely something special about the Shrine. Something magical.

Randomly getting an act of inspiration, I kneel before the Shrine, and put my hands together in front of my face in a prayerful stance before closing my eyes.

"Dear Forest Guardian, this is Calypso. Uh, Calypso Aspen Primrose, actually. Please help to protect my Team and I as we travel through Ilex Forest. Please keep Gran away from us at all times, keep Professor Elm, JC, JP, and PG safe, and… and please help Silver. Tell him it's okay to be kind to his Pokémon. He'll be a better trainer and a better person if he can do it. So... If you're out there, and you hear me, thank you."

I can feel a cool breeze directly on my back, and as quickly as it appears, it dissipates into nothingness. I open my eyes, and look to Forest and Zellie, who are on either side of me. Both of them have their eyes closed, apparently caught in the moment just as much as I was. I quietly murmur their names to catch their attention, before beckoning them forward to start walking with me.

"So that breeze that happened after I prayed to the shrine… You guys think that was the Forest Guardian, answering me?"

'Hey, it's possible,' Forest starts, "Who's to say the Forest Guardian isn't here listening to us right now?'

Zellie intercepts, 'Who's to say the Forest Guardian isn't a Pokémon like you and me, Forest?'

"Hey, good thought, Zellie! Whatever it was I prayed to, it was strong enough to send a gentle breeze towards me," I finish.

We walk up to a Trainer's Tips Sign. It's warning us that the forest is extremely overgrown and to watch out for dropped items on the ground. Hey, finders keepers.

We stroll the past the sign, only to see a small pond separating us from the checkpoint between Ilex Forest and Route 34. None of my Pokémon know Surf, and there's no way I'm risking our lives swimming across it. So it's to the right we go.

There's a path that goes directly to my right, but it looks to be a dead end. I go to turn around at the end, when I almost twist my ankle tripping on something.

"Motherfucker," I howl as I hold my ankle in pain. I look down, and there's an X Attack on the ground. They weren't kidding when said everyone is dropping their shit.

I go to the southwest little corner of the pond to gauge how far we're going to have to walk to get to the checkpoint. When I near the edge, I almost fall in tripping on something. I look down at my feet only to see an Antidote that someone must have dropped. It almost killed me, so it's mine now.

I hear Forest and Zellie trying to hide their giggles from behind me. Their lovely trainer has already almost killed herself tripping over two items dropped in under five minutes. I can see what they're laughing about.

"I'm glad you two care about me dying so much," I say sarcastically. This does nothing to stop them from laughing at me. Oh well, at least Silver didn't see it.

We walk further to the right, where we see a path blocked by an unclimbable ledge. I can see the outline of a man beyond the ledge. At first, I decide to walk away, but then I hear a large booming noise come from that area. He piques my curiosity, but I'd have to walk completely around to go talk to him.

We walk back to the path, and go further down before having to turn to the left. We see more ledges ahead, but with an open split in the middle. I realize that this is the path that leads to the Route 34 checkpoint.

I can see a brightly dressed person up ahead, but that one guy from before is still on my mind. I decide to go further right along the same path I'm on, until I have to turn steadily down and to the right.

I hear the booming again, so I know I'm getting close. We round the corner, and see a smartly dressed man… head butting a tree?!

"Umm, Sir, are you okay? Is your head okay from doing that," I ask in concern.

The man laughs. "I'm alright, I was just head butting the tree to find wild Pokémon, like I taught my Pokémon how to do. I can teach your Pokémon to learn the move Headbutt too, if you want."

I think about it for a second. It would be cool to be able to find Pokémon in trees with it. And when I read about it in PG's book of Pokémon Moves, I learned that it has a Power of 70, and it can make opponents flinch. So why not?

"Yeah, let me grab Cyndi," I say as I release her from her Poké Ball.

"Hey, Cyndi, this guy wants to teach you the move Headbutt because it's awesome. Which move did you want to get rid of?"

'I'll get rid of Smokescreen so I can learn Headbutt," Cyndi replies, before going back into her Poké Ball because she's tired.

"Sweet! Glad I was able to teach you that. If you ever want me to teach another Pokémon Headbutt, you come find me. I'll be here," The man says, satisfied with his work. I thank him before we jump off the ledge on our left.

We continue up the path to the checkpoint until we see that smartly dressed stranger again, this time standing closer to the gap between the two ledges.

I recognize the person as a Kimono Girl of Ecruteak City! Like my mom!

"Kimono Girl, Kimono Girl, lost and all alone. Poor girl lost in the dark Ilex Forest," she says pathetically.

"Hey," I speak up, "I can help you get out of the forest!"

She turns around to face me, and I recognize her as Naoko, one of my mom's coworkers at the Dance Theater.

She stops to stare at me for a second, almost as if she knows who I am.

"I feel like I have met you before… Anyway, will you show me how to get out of this forest?"

"Yeah," I say as I try to go past to lead her on the right path. However, the terrain is not my friend, and I trip and fall face first on the ground. Oww.

"Wait, aren't you lost in the forest as well? How do you know how to get out of here," Naoko asks as she helps me up. I'm about to answer her, when Zellie and Forest continue further on down the path, and are gesturing for us to follow.

"Wow, are you going to show me how to get out? You are such smart Pokémon," Naoko exclaims as we follow Zellie and Forest to the checkpoint. We finally make it there, where Naoko says a brisk goodbye before almost sprinting off through the checkpoint. So weird. I'll have to figure out what's going on when I finally get to Ecruteak City.

Zellie, Forest, and I all walk through the checkpoint, and into Route 34. The first thing I notice when we arrive is the blinding sunshine that makes it so different from the dark Ilex Forest.

A youngster spots us as soon as we walk away from the checkpoint doors. "Hey, stop, I wanna battle you!"

"Hey, why not, kid? I need some training before I challenge the Goldenrod Gym," I accept.

Youngster Samuel has four Pokémon. First he sends out a Level 7 Rattata.

Zellie has no problem taking it out with her Water Gun + Sonicboom combo. She also slaughters his two Level 8 Spearows with the same combo.

"Zellie grew to Level 12!" The Pokédex congratulates her.

Youngster Samuel is not having a good time out here right now. He has one Pokémon left that can battle, and his team hasn't even been able to touch Zellie with any moves.

His last and strongest Pokémon is a Level 10 Sandshrew. Zellie is tired, so Forest decides to have a go at battling in her place.

"Sandshrew, use Sand Attack," Samuel directs.

"Forest, dodge it and use PoisonPowder!"

Sandshrew has the speed advantage, so he reduces Forest's accuracy with a well-aimed Sand Attack. In response with getting hit with sand in the face, Forest sneezes a large cloud of PoisonPowder towards Sandshrew, poisoning him on contact.

The Sandshrew's HP reduces by a bit from being poisoned. Youngster Samuel is looking really panicked now, like he's struggling to find the courage to move on. But he still calls out a command,

"Sandshrew, use Poison Sting!"

Sandshrew once again uses its superior speed stat to move faster than Forest, hitting him with a Poison Sting. It doesn't do the amount of damage Samuel thought it would to Forest because he's not just a Grass type; He's also a Poison type, making him immune to being poisoned as well.

"Now, Forest, close this battle out with your Vine Whip!"

Forest dashes towards Sandshrew, his left vine about to strike. He hits Sandshrew straight on the belly, the Super Effective hit knocking him out.

This is the first time that Forest has used his left vine in battle since the Croconaw incident. Azalea Town Nurse Joy did a really good job at fixing him up.

"I can't believe you beat me so easily," Youngster Samuel exclaims in shock before giving me my battle winnings of 128.

We continue to walk along the road until we get stopped by PokéFan Brandon. He and his two Pokémon want a battle. So Forest and I give it to him.

He has a Snubbull and a Mareep, both Level 13.

Snubbull tries to reduce Forest's Attack stat with Charm. Forest isn't falling for it, and to prevent her from doing it again, he uses Sleep Powder on her.

PokéFan Brandon is trying to call out commands, but Snubbull is way too deep in sleep to hear him.

"Forest, use Vine Whip on Snubbull!"

Forest takes advantage of Snubbull's status problem and lashes her several times with Vine Whip before she wakes up. Her HP reduces to less than a fourth.

"Snubbull, use your Tackle attack!"

Snubbull charges Forest, and knocks him back with her forehead. The hit reduces his HP by a third.

"Forest, use Vine Whip one more time," I bellow, hoping to end the battle. Forest manages to hit her with enough force to knock her out.

PokéFan Brandon recalls Snubbull, and then sends out his last Pokémon, Mareep.

I went to recall Forest because of how hurt he is, but he's being stubborn, and wants to battle still. It's not like anything I say is going to convince him otherwise, so I let him do his thing.

"Mareep, use Thundershock," Brandon calls out.

"Forest, dodge it and use Vine Whip," I retort.

Mareep's Thundershock hits Forest dead on, but it doesn't do much damage because it's not very effective. Unfortunately for us, it also paralyzes Forest.

Despite having his speed reduced and only being able to move 25% of the time, Forest manages to hit Mareep with his Vine Whip. It reduces his HP to a little less than half.

"Mareep, use your Tackle Attack!" Mareep charges Forest with a surprising amount of speed, almost flattening him in the process. It reduces his HP to a third. I know we need to get this battle done soon, or Forest's in trouble.

"Come on, Forest, you can do this! Use Vine Whip one more time!"

"Mareep, you can take it out with your Tackle Attack!"

Mareep starts scarily charging Forest again, and I make an instant decision to save the battle.

"Forest, stop Mareep in his tracks with your Vine Whip, and throw him!"

To the Mareep's surprise, Forest gathers enough strength to extend his vines out, and pluck Mareep off the ground. In one fluid movement, he throws Mareep into the grass, knocking him out instantly.

Forest fought the hard fight, and now he's paralyzed and only has only a third of his health left. At least PokéFan Brandon gave us 832, more than enough to buy a Parylz Heal and two Potions.

I recall a stubborn Forest back into his Poké Ball to rest. Then, I let out Cyndi, the only one who isn't tired or injured at this point.

Cyndi and I keep walking on the road, when a Picknicker notices us walking.

"Hey, I'm challenging the Goldenrod Gym, and I need a practice partner! Will you help me out?"

So Cyndi and I take on Picknicker Gina. It takes less than five minutes for Cyndi to incinerate all three of her Pokémon, which include two Level 9 Hoppips and a Level 12 Bulbasaur.

"You're way too strong for a practice partner… But do you wanna maybe call me if you wanna battle again?"

"Hey, why not, I think your Bulbasaur is pretty cool anyways."

So Gina and I register our numbers before Cyndi and I start walking again.

We get stopped by another Youngster, this one claiming to be the best in his class. Youngster Ian only has two Pokémon, so I find this to be unlikely. Let's see if he can prove me wrong.

First he sends out a Level 10 Mankey. I figure Cyndi can take it out in one hit.

"Cyndi, use Flame Wheel to end this battle before it starts!"

Cyndi starts charging towards Mankey, rolling into a flame covered wheel.

"Mankey, back flip to avoid it, and then use Low Kick!"

To my intense surprise, Mankey back flips completely over Cyndi. He then proceeds to use Low Kick to trip Cyndi, sending her flying into the nearby wall for a fourth of her HP in damage.

"Okay, so maybe I underestimated you. Cyndi, gain some ground speed by using Quick Attack!"

Cyndi recovers quickly, and starts dashing around Mankey. She runs around him in a circle, making him dizzy before delivering the attack itself. It reduces his HP to a fourth.

"Mankey, she's close by! Use your Scratch attack!"

Mankey manages to orient himself enough to scratch Cyndi on the shoulder, but it was a passing slash, and only does a bit of damage.

"Cyndi, finish it out with Ember, close range!"

Cyndi quick shoots out a small fire ball into the Mankey's face, making it faint.

Youngster Ian recalls Mankey, replacing him with his other Pokémon, a Level 12 Diglett.

"Cyndi, make it quick with your Flame Wheel," I start the battle.

"Diglett, stop it with your Magnitude!"

Diglett makes the ground shake massively, causing Cyndi to bounce up and down in wheel-form, and for me to almost fall over. If I could guess, I'd say that was either an 8 or a 9 Magnitude.

Since it's a Ground type move from a Ground type Pokémon, it hits Cyndi extra hard. She loses half her HP in one attack.

"Come on, Cyndi, you got this! Use Headbutt, then slam him down with Flame Wheel when he flinches!"

Cyndi quickly charges Diglett, headbutting him in the forehead. It reduces his HP to a third. Luckily for her, he flinches, prompting her to start charging her Flame Wheel. By the time he realizes what's going on, she's on top of him, flattening his tiny little body. The hit makes him faint.

"Oh no! Being the best in my class means nothing in real life," Youngster Ian cries out. He starts to cry, and I can't help but feel awkward at this point.

"Hey, kid, don't cry. I've been training for a little bit too, and I think you did really well. Keep training at school and at home, and call me when you get stronger, okay?"

Youngster Ian stops crying, but I can still hear him sniffling. I can't believe I actually feel bad for the poor kid.

"Okay," he says as we register numbers. I give him a supportive clap on the shoulder before Cyndi and I head on our way.

Cyndi and I see the first glimpse of a large building. We go to walk further towards it, when we hear a loud voice behind us.

"Hey! Hey, wait up!"

We turn around, and a girl around my age runs up to me. I don't think I've ever seen her before. She has two long chestnut brown pigtails hanging from the inside of her big white hat. She's also wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, overalls, and knee high socks. Also, she has an adorable little Marill is following behind her. I think I would have remembered her if I had met her.

"Man, you're fast, Calypso! It's no wonder I couldn't catch up to you in New Bark Town or Route 29," she says tiredly as she breathes loudly.

My eyebrows twitch in curiosity. "You were looking for me? Why?"

"I'm Lyra! Professor Elm sent me to watch over you, and guide you on your journey. I was supposed to tell you how to catch Pokémon back in Route 29, but you were already gone by then!"

I shift my arms to my hips in annoyance. "Why did Professor Elm send you to look after me? I'm perfectly capable on my own."

"Hey, it's not about you not being an adult, it's about Professor Elm caring enough about you that he wants to make sure you stay safe. I know you have your crazy grandma after you, so I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Wait," I say confusedly, "You and Professor Elm know that she's crazy? I thought everyone still thought I was the criminal?"

Lyra shakes her head. "No, ever since this article came out in the Johto Journal," she holds up a magazine with Gran's deranged face on the cover, "We've all known the truth."

She hands the magazine to me to read. The paragraph underneath her hag face reads,

"Cianwood Grandmother and former Goldenrod Prosecutor accused of child abuse! Bloody belt found in closet of Cianwood resident, Ruth Marken! Police suspect this is why her grand daughter, Calypso Aspen Primrose, stole all her money, destroyed her home, and ran off. The Medicine Guru of Cianwood says the woman is indeed insane; He says he helped to free the young seventeen year old from her evil clutches.

The Johto Police Department were first prompted to search Marken's home after claims of domestic abuse came from the 17 year old runaway granddaughter, Calypso. They searched the 62 year old's home, and found an old bloody belt in one of her closets. They went to arrest the 62 year old, but she used her Lv 41 Dragonair, Fafnir, to escape. Ruth Marken is still currently on the run from Police. If anyone sees this woman, PLEASE REPORT IT TO POLICE IMMEDIATELY! Do not try to capture her yourself! She is a very capable trainer and fighter. Police say there are several other witnesses who can testify to Marken's abuse claims."

Reading that article almost makes my face go numb. Everyone knows that she's the crazy one? And not me? Everyone in Johto?!

"Hey, come with me. This is my Grandparent's Day Care. We can stay here for a bit so you can get some rest, and hide out from your grandma," Lyra says as she takes me by the hand.

"Hi, Grandpa," Lyra says as she walks up to the older man in front of the Day-Care. She looks over to the side yard where a Pokémon is playing in the grass.

"Good work, Grandpa, the Pokémon you raised for me has been healthy as can be! You look fit, too!"

Lyra and her grandpa have a quick chat before she pulls me up by my wrist to stand directly beside her.

"Hey, Grandpa, let me introduce you. This is Calypso. She's a Trainer and a friend of Professor Elm's. She seems to be getting better at raising Pokémon. Well, not as good as you, Grandpa, of course! Follow me, Calypso."

I shake her Grandpa's hand briefly with my left hand before Lyra pulls me inside the Day Care by my right.

Lyra pulls me to where her tiny Grandma in sitting behind the counter.

"Grandma, let me introduce my friend. This is Calypso. She's that friend of Professor Elm's that I told you and Grandpa about."

"Oh," her grandma says as she slowly sits up and studies me. "You're Calypso, Daniel and Akira's daughter? And Pete's granddaughter?"

I smile in response to her purposely not referencing Gran. Throwing all the shade here. I can tell that I'm going to like this woman.

"Yes," I reply pleasantly, "I'm Calypso Aspen Primrose. It's nice to meet you," I finish, shaking her tiny hand.

"Same to you, Calypso. I hope you take on the disposition of your Grandpa Pete rather than his wife."

I can't help but chuckle a bit, and reply laughing, "Don't worry, I follow after Pete."

Lyra taps on my shoulder to catch my attention, before saying, "Hey, so I know this is random, but do you wanna stay the night here with me tonight? You wouldn't have to pay for a hotel room, and my grandparents would let you stay in their guest room."

"Oh, no, I don't want to be a burden—" I start but her grandma cuts me off with a swift, "Nonsense!"

I look back to her, and she's stood up, standing at her full height of 5'. "Now we promised Lyra that we'd help look out after you, Calypso! Ruth knows she's not welcome here, and we promised Professor Elm that we'd keep you safe. So please at least stay the night, and rest in our safe haven."

I look between the stern stares of Lyra and her grandma. "I don't think I'm allowed to say no to this one," I speculate.

So, Lyra, her grandparents, and I all share a delicious dumpling soup that her grandma made. Lyra also makes sure that all of my Pokémon are fed and healed before we go to bed.

Showing me to the guest room, Lyra beckons me goodnight, and says one more message I find odd, "Don't worry, you're safe here."

Along with the shock of everyone knowing the truth about Gran, it just feels so odd to have so many people worried about my safety. So weird.

*Meanwhile, in the Goldenrod City Gym*

"And she s-stole my Misdreavus that my mom gave me for my 18th birthday," Monica cries to the pink haired pigtailed Goldenrod City Gym Leader, Whitney.

"Monica Blodvek, when you became a Gym Trainer in my Goldenrod Gym, you joined a family of sisters. Sisters who protect and support each other. And, as you know, I do not tolerate haters in my Gym," Whitney starts out after hearing Monica's story.

"I know she's doing the Gym challenge, and I don' want that freak coming back and stealing another one of my Pokémon!"

"Don't worry, Monica, if the person you described comes anywhere in the Gym, I will have her kicked out. I refuse to have haters challenging my Gym," Whitney says sympathetically.

"Thank you, Whitney! I just couldn't take it if my precious Honey Bear or Sapphire were stolen by that freak! She already took Jessica, and I just don't know what to do with myself."

"Don't worry, Moni, "Whitney comforts the freshly dyed blonde, "I'll take care of it."

0 notes

anthonianrhapsody-blog · 7 years ago

Text

The Polaroid

by Keziah Cinco

December 24, 2017

Martin

"Martin, come here! We're about to eat!"

"I'm coming, mom!"

I was sorting my books at my little library until I saw a wooden chest. Inside it was a necklace and a vintage book from the ‘50s; it was a rare one dad bought for my birthday. As I opened it and smelled the crisp, aged, yellow leaves of the book, two Polaroid photos with a note fell to the floor.

They were square-shaped Polaroid photos of me and her with a note on it. Looking at them, I saw thin black scribbles through the white part. I knew it was her. It was her final message.

All of a sudden, the Polaroid became a time warp. As I glanced at it, I once again felt like going back to my preteen years with my life outstretched before me; how all the memories that lied between my present self and my past innocent self were unfolded, how everything became possible and how impossible it seemed that meeting her would take me across these few years to why I now sat with my heart aching, eyes moist (though those no longer made me weep as hard as before). If I just stayed at home playing video games with my friends that day and we had never met, then how would I be now? Surely, I wasn’t certain.

My name is Martin and my life, perceptions and choices – everything changed when I met her.

As I read the note in the Polaroid photo, I once again heard her voice; her sweet, rich, warm, and thick Western accent that was a melody to my ears.

+ + +

November 10, 2000 Martin

I was strolling at the Southern park, finding a bench, while clutching my Sherlock novel given to me as a birthday present by my dad. A slight breeze rustled through the leaves, making them fall to the solid ground piece by piece. The air was warm, the rays of the dim sunlight glowing on my fair white skin. Various colors, kinds, and sizes of flowers sat and concealed huge portions of shiny and fresh green grasses and mosses behind the protective fence. The pathway was clean, only a few patches of dirt and litters with random rocks could be seen in some spots. I saw a few children pacing everywhere and parents having small talks, smiling from ear to ear. I saw morning joggers go back on track, sprinting like there was no tomorrow.

As I was sitting down, an effervescent friend whose name was Alan approached and invited me to play with them. However, I wasn’t paying attention because I was intrigued by a girl walking behind him in a blue dress who kept staring at me. I ignored her at first, but as seconds passed by, her stare became more mysterious, making me want to know more about her.

Her long, prickly, and intense auburn hair flickered like flames in the light of the faded, beaming, gloomy, yellow sun that surrounded the park. Her tiara was made with brass that was curved and filled with crystals that twinkled like stars around her head, accentuating her chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. A small brass-caged white moon hung around her neck.

I politely declined his invitation and felt his pang of disappointment towards me. I usually play with them.

As Alan left to play with them, I started to follow the mysterious girl. I soon figured out where I was heading towards: the downward slope of the park where nobody bothered to visit because the people of this town said that it was haunted. One time, a girl of my age went here and, all of a sudden, vanished.

I assumed this park was her kind of place because of its absolute tranquility. She was alone sitting on the swing suspended on the big, aged tree on the downward slope of the park because, as I've said, nobody bothered to visit here.

The old wooden swing was stationary and there was barely even a soft whisper from what leaves remained on the late autumn trees. The little mists of rain and the little glow of the sun soon melted and, at the same time, heated the crisp leaves that slushed under our footsteps. Without it, she might not have dared to enter for fear of giving her position away.

The mist had finally stopped and the yellow sun kept shining while the wind blew stronger.

I could see she was shocked when she saw me. I stared at her for a few moments as well.

"Hey," I said.

"Hi." She seemed shy, and something made me want to know more about her.

"W-what's your name?"

"Allie."

"Why are you here? Aren't we supposed to be only staying in that part of the park?" I asked as I pointed the upward slope of the park from afar.

"Because nobody goes here. I was all alone until you came," she answered coldly.

This was how everything started. I was really bad at starting conversations, but we made it work.

We started to talk about random issues and rants and realized we had something in common. We were both peculiar in our own little ways. We enjoyed each other’s company.

"I like your necklace and tiara. They really looked good on you. You looked like a princess," I complimented.

As I was listening to her stories, I was not able to check the time and I forgot I needed to go as soon as possible for we needed to visit grandmum.

"My da-"

"Oh snap! I'm sorry; I need to cut you this time. It was really nice meeting you but I really need to go home," I cut the conversation quickly.

"It's fine, bye," she said.

"I really had a good time with you, mate. Goodbye."

I ran as fast as possible.

+ + +

November 11, 2000 Martin

From that moment, I always went to the park in hopes of seeing her again.

She was there, sitting at the swing once again, a ray of sunshine painted over her face in front of me.

"So, where do you live?" I asked.

"Just a few blocks away, but that doesn't matter," she answered.

"Why are you always here? Don't you go to school?" I asked.

"I can't. Enough questions about me, let's focus on your life," she said enthusiastically.

"One last question: favorite color?"

"Blue," she answered.

She was patient, kind, sweet, and mysterious. We talked about everything that was happening. We went outside the park for the very first time. People laughed whenever they saw me talking to Allie. This was one of the reasons why I hated the world. They never deserved her.

I wondered why they always stayed away from me.

While walking, I slipped out an old camera of mine and took a photo with her. I told her to write something, yet I never understood why she wrote that. I asked her why she wrote that and she never even said a word about it.

She always answered, "You'll know why, sooner or later. When the time comes..."

I never understood what that meant.

"Perhaps we could meet again on Friday? I can't see you tomorrow; I need to do our school project. "

"I'll see you in front of your house," she said happily.

"See you in five!" I replied.

I might have seen it coming if I paid attention. I was too busy spending and cherishing my moments with her to even notice the change, although we were too innocent and young to feel this.

Suddenly, she became my best friend, someone who I quickly missed whenever we would part ways. My moods would shift whenever she was with me. Her little quirky self soon became my favourite thing, easy to discern her mind-set in their absence. Her green eyes that turned to turquoise in the dark penetrated my soul and every time I saw something green, it reminded me of them. Her laughter was my harmonic tinnitus; it kept me up all night, replaying her voice and seeing her in my thoughts. I craved for our solitary moments, where she opened up and ranted. At the same time, I felt dread when she told me that something peculiar was happening.

+ + +

November 20, 2000

"The night before I saw you, I saw a shooting star in the sky. I made a wish one last time, and it came true."

Martin

I was slowly waiting for the time to tick to five. What I did was to wait near our stairs, delicately hand crafted from the finest oak. The smooth and elegant finish of the stairs and the poles forged from the finest mahogany were built in the most enchanting way. It was simply beautiful.

Suddenly, I heard mom talking to someone. It couldn't be dad because the voice was different.

I went halfway downstairs and saw a doctor.

"Ma'am, Martin has schizophrenia," the doctor diagnosed.

"I'm sorry, but h-how?" Mom asked worriedly.

"It could be judged from the way he acts and the way he changed when he met that friend.

That imaginary friend," the doctor concluded.

I felt my blood boil and rush and my nerves stiffened. My thoughts were a mixture of anger and confusion.

I went back to the room to get the only picture we had and proved to mom and the doctor that she was real.

"She's here, mom! Look! She's real!" I showed the photo, pointing where she was.

"Martin, please! What's happening to you? She isn't there. Are you high? Have you been drinking or taking drugs?" Mom asked.

"She is real!" I protested and insisted.

I went out and saw Allie standing in front. I called and pointed her to Mom and the doctor.

"Mom, it’s Allie. She's the one I've been telling you about all this time," I introduced.

"Where, Martin? Where?" Mom asked.

The blank, emotionless expression swept over her face as the realization that the time had finally come. The fear, guilt, and sadness altogether seemed to rise behind her eyes. Like a caged animal, she laid there, paralyzed by the tragic feeling of guilt and all the mixed feelings she had. She closed her eyes and gazed down into fields of nothingness. She felt the water creep out of her eyes, cascading down on her cheeks as she started to run away.

I wondered why she ran away and I didn't want to fail in proving she was real, not an imaginary friend. All of a sudden, everything became strange. She became a stranger to me. What happened? Was she real?

The sun was soon fading, creating new shadows and dark patches around me. The wind wailed between distorted trunks, carrying the sickly stink of wood rot. I moved faster, ignoring the briars that caught at my jeans, the damp leaves that grimed my skin, and the croaking sounds that got louder.

+ + +

As Martin went near their place, he looked away from the darkness and saw a shadow emerge from his rear, a shadow so slender, familiar, and flawless; as if the the heaven, using a faultless sand, molded her the silhouette of one exempt from flaws of humanities.

He quickly turned his head and there she stood, light emanating behind her, as an angel who had just descended from the realm of divine. She was in her blue dress, accentuating her pale skin tone and freckles, wearing the same tiara and necklace she wore the day he met her.

She slowly moved her way towards him, seeing the tears bursting. He told her to calm down as he wrapped his arms around her.

Moments later, he was able to see her face more clearly. It was calm, more composed this time. She had that majestic and beautiful type of calmness, as if she, accepting their fate, now only lived to cherish their final moments.

+ + +

Allie

"I wanted to see you one last time. I wanted to show you my world and feel it with you, so that I can live in the course of this life seeing you in everything that I hold dearly."

My one last wish was granted.

The time had finally come. I shouldn't have been friends with him.

However, I laid my eyes on you the moment I realized you saw me. All of a sudden, you became my best friend. I craved for our solitary moments, where you opened up your world to me. At the same time, I felt dread knowing my secrets will soon unveil once he got to know me more.

"Martin, why don't we make a promise that we’ll be friends for life?" I suggested.

"Sure, but how are we going to make a pact?" he asked.

"Well, I have a suggestion. Here." I handed him a brass sword that I had since when I was young as we went to the seaside view of the park.

"And what are we going to do with this?" he asked.

"See that horizon? Tell me what you see."

"Everything."

"These are the things that lie beyond what we can't see, but they will always be there. Step closer and you'll see more of it. You tend to step closer to see more, but you don't have to. It's always there, whatever lies beyond," I said as I looked away and turned to him. I met his gaze.

"Nothing stops here, Martin. Beyond us, infinity meets infinity."

"It's there." He closed his eyes as he nodded.

"To what lies beyond." We cocked our arms back and threw our tiara and sword with all our might, throwing them as far as the direction of the horizon.

"Now whatever happens, they'll always be there. They're with whatever lies beyond eternity."

"Eternity?" The word left his lips with such a sweet taste.

"Eternity," I assured as I closed my eyes and smiled at him.

+ + +

Martin's mom called the cops to help her find her son who ran away after confronting him with his diagnosis. All of a sudden, she knew where to find him: his place.

The rattling wind blew though their hair, directing them over their shoulder. With a turn of her head, she felt the scenery change, as if someone had set a new wallpaper. The park became the woods as the sky became darker and roaming insects of various sizes and colours flaunted through the land of green, the embedded and untouched trail running down the center of the alluring woods.

+ + +

Martin

We went back to our place.

It was a peaceful night, a silent one. We had found in this little bubble a safe haven, away from everything, an escape from reality; a perfect place to admire the beauty of the world.

We leaned on the big tree at the middle of the downward slope of the park. I turned towards her and saw her slowly close her eyes as a grin curled on her lips. I would never know what those eyes saw in those stars, but I knew she saw something majestic in them.

As I stared into the starry sky, I heard my father speak to look out to the stars whenever I missed somebody, felt lonely, or wanted someone in the near future, because stars had the potent power to tell them how much someone loved them.

"Stars - they are powerful. Never ever doubt their power. They will never abandon you, so when it is impossible for you to profess your love, tell them, and they'll speak of your love for you," my father had said.

I closed my eyes for a moment and, once again, stared and marveled at their resplendence. I believed in their power as much as I did before.

"Tell them, and they'll speak of your love for you," his voice echoed in my thoughts once more.

I looked at her. She was still gazing up. I turned to the stars once again - my good friends - and whispered to them all that I wanted to say to her. After I whispered, I opened my eyes to a beautiful sight of glistening stars. I whispered a small prayer, hopeful they won't fail me.

I turned my head slightly. To my surprise, at the corner of my eye, I saw her looking at me.

I grinned. Her turquoise eyes sparkled as they always did even in the daytime when her eyes became green. She allowed my gaze to get into her eyes. For the first time, she opened up her world and let me see who she was.

I leaned closer, not knowing what to do. My heart started to beat faster, no fear now to behold. For a moment, in front of me lay the most beautiful thing I could have. I closed my eyes as I inched closer.

I soon felt her breathe, and my heart stopped. I took a deep breath and slowly moved closer, close enough for the tips of our nose to touch and waited for my forehead to gently touch hers.

A few beats of my heart. I leaned closer and finally, our lips touched. As I paused, I felt her lips press against mine.

After a few seconds, I opened my eyes first. Her eyes were still closed and an enchanted smile formed on her lips. I placed my hand on her cheek. She moved my head slightly towards me as I leaned closer again.

"Martin!" A blinding ray of a flashlight was pointed at us.

+ + +

Certain that he was mistaken, Martin looked to his side once again, but she was gone.

"No... This can't be... Where are you, Allie?"

Beside him were the remains of an unknown kid, with two pictures of Martin and Allie together and a note below saying, "You found me, thank you" and the other saying, "I'll always guard you."

The cops were able to identify the remains. It was the missing girl who had vanished in the downward slope of the park ages ago.

The cops showed Martin a photo of the deceased girl and she resembled Allie.

He now understood what she had meant.

He was thankful for he finally found a purpose to live and interact with people.

+ + +

Febuary 20, 2001 Martin

I stayed away. I tried to get over from the fact she was already gone, from the fact that I wouldn’t see her again. For months and weeks after that, I tried my best to block my thoughts of her, to not think of her in everything that I did and encountered. I tried to think and accept her as one that was unimportant, nonsensical for me to value, an object of nonexistence, a perfect illusion. God knew how I tried to forget her, unlove her. To learn to love again what I once did before I became anew.

And yet there I was again, desperate for any ray of sunshine, any glimpse of true happiness that I could only obtain from seeing her. I loved her, and I could not undo it. As much as I tried, I could not unlearn it. But I didn't learn to love her. She touched me with her pristine heart and I would always be hers. And as much as I wanted to revert back to my old, innocent, and ignorant self, all of the beauty of this world that was ignorant, nevertheless, of all that I missed in the bliss of life, ignorant of the happiness that came whenever she was there, I couldn’t. I needed her. I wanted to be open to sense the reality of the majestic world, to see it through her eyes, to feel her divine soul, to ever feel that perfect bliss I desperately ached for.

+ + +

January 15, 2018 Martin

The sun was shining. I once again visited our place. I wish I could wear shades to obscure my eyes but that would be as good as a blindfold today.

This side of park became open to everyone after the solved mystery of a 12-year-old girl. I saw a mixture of some children walking, young adults, middle-aged and old people, quietly chit-chatting and drinking tea while having a picnic with their loved ones.

It sat there, it did; with its long, creaky, rusted poles, it set a memory in motion. This was our favorite place. She was the only one... The only one I knew who could bring such vividness to a dull place. Now, as the thick wind tussled with the chains of the swing and the trees as some of its leaves fell and followed the various directions of the opaque breeze, I started to think that maybe her spirit still lingered here. Maybe - just maybe - in the afterlife, she'd still love to hop on a swing.

This time, I was the one who sat here, hoping to see or, at least, feel her once again. I held her necklace.

And so she did by blowing the wind that touched my skin, and I saw my 12-year-old self playing and dancing with her beneath a starry night. As I saw my naïve self with her, I sat at the swing and laid the sunflowers and Ecuadorian roses I bought on the ground, near our place where the stars professed my love to her.

#short story #nakpil #ssaseniorhigh

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caraalee · 6 years ago

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Winter Wonderland in Zagreb, Croatia

After a sleepless night in Naples, followed by an epic journey through Slovenia, I was ready to have the best time of my whole life in Zagreb. Our time there may have just seemed better than it really was, just following the stressful time getting there, but our few days in Zagreb were some of the best travel days I’ve ever had!

Breakfast

I would have loved to sleep in, but we signed up for a walking tour ahead of time just because we didn’t know much about Zagreb or what to do there, so a highly rated walking tour hit two birds with one stone. Luckily, because of the early-ish start to the day, we were forced to find a breakfast place. It was a little tough finding a sit-down breakfast place on a Monday in February, but Bistro Fotić came up on my Google search, and it was really close to Zrinjevac Park, where we were meeting our walking tour guide.

What a great find! Bistro Fotić was both lovely and yummy. We both got the mushroom, cheese, and pepper omelette like the twinsters we are, and it was delish. We also got complimentary bread, too, which I enjoyed, but Roobz didn’t...I think I’m biased toward free bread, but it was dough-y and delicious. The decor was very charming and had plenty of Croatian spark throughout. I only take photos of restaurant decor that speaks to my soul, so that’s saying something.

A Fun[icular] Walking Tour Through Zagreb

Once we finished, we headed over to Zrinjevac Park to meet our walking tour. Our guide’s name was Petra, and we ended up being the only ones on the tour. It was nice to have a private tour, and Petra was excellent, but two hours in the snow was a long time to chit chat with someone I had just met. Luckily, Roobz had questions up the wazoo, and we learned some great tid bits about Croatia-- Nikola Tesla was born there, and it’s where the ballpoint pen AND cravat aka necktie were invented! We also found out Petra’s brother lives in Astoria! Small world.

During the tour, we saw all the main sites except St. Mark’s Chapel and Parliament because the Serbian president was visiting, so streets were blocked off. We were able to enjoy the main attraction of the walking tour--riding the funicular (the shortest in the world!) from upper to lower town. We were also able to catch the daily noontime Lotrscak Tower canon blast, along with the view from the top of the city. So pretty! The architecture in Zagreb was reminiscent of German buildings (at least from the photos I’ve seen), and Petra told us that the buildings were Austro-Hungarian style. I really loved the detail and cone-shaped roofs. We were able to sneak a peek into the Zagreb Cathedral, which was very pretty.

By the end of the tour, we were wet and freezing. But the city was so charming with so much rich history that a lot of people don’t know about, so we really enjoyed learning and getting some history lessons and stories.

Lunch

After our tour, we were ready to sit indoors and feast. We had lunch at Vinodol, thanks to Petra’s suggestion. It was very nice and mostly full of fancy-looking business people. I got the truffle fuzi pasta (Croatia is full of truffly foods we were delighted to learn), and Roobz got the fried steak and potatoes. We both got Dzujsko, the local beer, and we got complimentary bread again--score! Everything was delicious. To reiterate, I had pasta, bread, beer, and finished Roobz’s potatoes. I still tell people about this entirely carbolicious meal I scarfed down with no regrets. MM!

After we filled our bellies, we headed back to the Airbnb to warm up, relax, and do laundry for the first time in two weeks. The nice part about walking tours is feeling productive while still having time to unwind and regroup.

Accidental Michelin-Star Dinner

When we were ready to eat again, I looked up a few places within walking distance and found Zinfindel’s, which had good reviews. Little did we know, we were about to stumble upon a very fancy time!

Upon walking on over, we discovered the restaurant was attached to a hotel, and the entrance had ropes and doormen, so we figured the restaurant would be pretty nice. We were the first ones there and were greeted by the maitre d, so we quickly realized (via the fact there was a maitre d and a Michelin-star sign) that this was going to be fancy fancy. I kind of felt like a peasant with my canvas bag (with a slightly jammed zipper I sewed on myself) and floral Forever 21 dress with pockets, but hey--that’s me and #yolo.

Aside from feeling a bit under-dressed and awkward to actually be waited on by waiters, it was a great time! The staff was very nice and attentive. We got hot towels and an appetizer compliments of the chef! All in all, it was a decently priced restaurant--the prices were comparable to an average midtown Manhattan restaurant.

We had a memorable beverage experience that made the post-vacation story circuit. After ordering a bottle of wine, the waiter came back to our table, opened up the cork then stuck it in Roobz’s face. Who knew smelling the cork was a thing?! My canvas-bagged self did not! Our wine bottle also got its own table next to our bottle of water (we felt lame ordering tap water at a fancy restaurant...).

Our food was delicious! I think I ordered the sea bass and Roobz got the truffle pasta. For dessert, I got chocolate cake, and Roobz got a nutella napoleon. YUM. I would have taken more photos, but we were being watched by the attentive staff, and I was being the ultimate fancy-restaurant tourist. Money tip: we were able to pay in euros here but needed to exchange for some kunas later on for places that still didn’t take euros.

Day Two of Exploring Zagreb

For our last breakfast, I found a restaurant with good reviews, but it turned out to be closed. We looked up another place and found La Struk, and I’m so glad we did. La Struk offered a variety of savory and sweet štrukli, an authentic Croatian dish popular in the Zagreb area and in Slovenia. It’s filled with cottage cheese and kind of similar in texture to lasagna. Because they make them fresh, we had to wait a short while, but it was worth it. I got the pumpkin pesto, and Roobz got apple. Marvelous and perfect for a chilly winter day!

Checking Out Upper Town

Because we missed some sites during our walking tour, we returned to Upper Town to explore and see what we missed. We walked back up to the city top to see a clearer view of the city--gorgeous. Then we headed to St. Mark’s Chapel. Also gorg! #RoofGoals #RoobsAndRooves To check out the souvenir situation, we checked out the city’s central square, Ban Jelačić Square, where there are merchants selling goods during the day, and we got a small drawing of the Square.

We also looked the town’s open-air market, Dolac, which is in between Upper and Lower Towns. During the day, there’s a farmer’s market with rows and rows of merchants. We picked up a small wooden canteen with St. Mark’s Chapel on it to hang up at home. Memories!

Coffee Break

After that round of walking, we headed to a cute and popular cafe called Amélie to get some coffee. The desserts there looked so delicate and yummy, so we also got an orange doughnut-like gift on earth and the Amélie torte. After perusing a bit, we added macarons to go because we’re worth it. After stopping by a grocery store to get snacks and breakfast for our road trip back to Italy, and picking up some more souvenirs, we headed back to Airbnb to lounge and watch a few episodes of House (highly recommended on a winter vacation day) before dinner.

Last Dinner

For our last dinner, we headed to Boban. I got the black truffle tagliatelle. It was decent, but it wasn’t the best I’ve had. Along with some octopus, it came with chewy tomatoes and one piece of basil (I’d eat a plateful of basil if available). Roobz got the truffle gnocci (last truffle pasta!).

We also shared a side of swiss chard and potatoes to sort of offset the pounds and pounds of carbs we had consumed over the past few days...but that didn’t stop us from getting some final Croatian beers! Roobz got Tomislav stout, and I got a limun beer.

On our way back to the Airbnb, we stumbled upon a mini festival in the Square and enjoyed that for a bit--it was a fun send-off from this magical city.

I’m so glad we kept Zagreb in the mix of this whirlwind Euro trip. It was a bit of wild card but ended up being our favorite stop, despite the wintry mix and long drive getting there. Everyone we met was so nice and humbly proud of their city and country. The food was a delightful surprise--I’d describe it as a cross-over between Greek and Italian, but it has its own yummy, truffly flair. Our stay there was relaxed, fun, educational and charming. We were sad to leave, but we had our next and last stop to get to: Venice for Valentine’s Day!

#zagreb #croatia travel #croatia driving #zagreb travel #croatian culture #croatian cuisine #eurotrip #european road trip #carubintrip2k18 #croatian food

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bobalafullaaaaaaaaa · 7 years ago

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At Last (a Pirate AU 2.0 fic)

I think this is the 2nd fic in 6 years I’ve ever posted on here mcmdjksjdj but anyways I’m. Really proud of it so!!!! enjoy!!! I’ve wanted to write out this piece ever since I came up with this alternate au kfjsjsjdjf

—

The villagers told me he’s dead–actually dead!“

“No way! That’s so stupid, how could he be dead?”

“He’s a ghost, they say, sailing the seas in search of the soul of his spouse, seeking her sweet embrace once more..”

“Geez, Flynn, that’s a mouthful.”

Flynn nudges his sister Ariel with his elbow, shooshing her.

“They say she was murdered by fellow pirates–a mutiny. And the old captain died of heartache soon after, but he doesn’t know it. And so he sails the waters on the dreaded boat Lazarus, killing those who stand in the path of his beloved–”

“Flynn, if you have any -real- pirate stories, now’s the time to share them.”

Flynn huffs at Bethany, sitting under the window of the gathering room. Her father, the esteemed Lord Collins, is out on business. Not that it matters, she finds herself thinking during the times he’s gone. It’s not as if they interact even when he is around. All he’s present for is checking progress with suitors, along with her governess.

Her governess. Sweet Moirin, the mother of four.

Flynn, boastful and proud, the eldest of the siblings. Often, he leads the household in their duties, taking special care of the arboreal features of the estate.

Ariel, smart and inventive, the spitting image of her mother–and once she retires, her replacement. Ariel’s done a great bit of work to learn everything from her mother so she could teach it herself, and then some.

Emmett and Emily. Nigh inseparable, the duo are shy and quiet, but the most observant of them all. Their duties amongst the home are small–they’re usually found tidying one room or another, disinterested in the educational aspects of their mother’s responsibilities. However, they know more of the surrounding lands and lords than any other in Île de la Lune. What one doesn’t know, the other does.

The children have always been employed by the Collins family. So far as Bethany can remember, at least. They’re several years older–the youngest, the twins, were six by the time she was born. Moirin never truly spoke of how they came to be employed by Beth’s father, only that tragedy struck and he saved her family from starvation out on the streets.

Moirin is kind. The wrinkles in her face show decades of happy smiles, cheerful laughs. She’s a jovial character. But Beth knows there’s a sadness in her eyes. She sees the same in her father’s eyes. She’s lost someone very dear to her.

Beth has never asked where her husband is.

But Beth has asked many things.

“Beth, are you even listening?”

“Hm?” She turns her head, tears her gaze from the sea past the docks. Flynn and Ariel, in the middle of trying to decide her outfit for the day, look frustrated that she’s ignored them. Beth knows they can’t voice these frustrations, given their position, but she does earn some criticism–being raised together, she and Moirin’s children are practically their own family. “No, uh, what’d you say?”

“I said,” Ariel repeats in exasperation, “that it’s supposed to be cold today, and I think this gown would best suit you, but my brother thinks a dress with more.. modern sleeves would be more befitting. Which do you choose, my lady?”

Beth groans and puts her face in her hands, then tugs on her hair. “I don’t choose either of them! I’m so tired of all this fancy hogwash and parties and manners–why can’t we go out on the water? Just one day, I want to be out of this stuffy house and away from all these suitors! They’re all so old, why do I have to be like everyone else and get married to some old man who wants my property?”

“It’s traditional,” Flynn says, but the tone of his voice reveals his own disagreement. “And your father wants you to. It would mean the world to him if you showed just a little enthusiasm.”

“Yeah, right,” she huffs, kicking her shoes off and standing up, going over to the siblings to get dressed. “You two get to go out to the village all the time and talk to sailors about pirates. I barely leave the garden.”

“I assure you, milady,” says a voice from the door, “there’s no talk of pirates among these two. Lest they’d like to miss their dinner tonight.”

“No, ma'am,” the siblings say as their mother enters the room. Though her tone was harsh, they both understand her concerns. They know how their father was killed. They know not to bring it up. Moirin sighs and pats her apron, striding over to Beth to help her dress. Flynn pardons himself to fetch the tea for the afternoon, and studying materials for the young girl.

“Bethany, you know better,” Moirin scolds. “You shouldn’t speak so ill of your situation. You’re very lucky, you know. How many children down in our own village starve, and you live here with all your luxuries. You should count your blessings, milady, if you pardon my speaking out of turn.”

“You’re right,” Beth says, “I just wish you weren’t.”

—

As the afternoon went on, Beth found herself feeling the way she usually does.

Bored out of her mind. Restless. Lost in a daydream.

She goes through the motions of her duties; she participates in her studies and greets several new suitors. Her father supervised during some of the visiting, remaining far away with a glass of wine in hand, acknowledging his daughter but refusing to engage. She sews, she paints, she dances, and still no more shred of joy does she own now than she did when she awoke this morning.

Moirin, bless her heart, tries to pep her through it, but with her mind set on the sea and her mother’s journal, nothing in the manor is of interest to her. Beth feels that she’s disappointing her governess. Yes, she’s hired by the family, so her opinion really shouldn’t matter.. but when she thinks about it, Moirin’s been around twice–no, three times more often than her own blood father. The children have become her siblings.

She can’t bear to say goodbye.

As night falls, and the house sleeps, Beth tiptoes downstairs with nothing but a satchel slung over her shoulder and the cover of night to hide her path. She’s nearly out the front door, when–

“What are you doing?”

She whips around to see Flynn standing in the hallway with a candle. Damnit, she forgot he was reading in the study!

“I’m deciding,” she replies. “I should be the one in control of my life. I’m going to go find out who my mother was, truly.”

“Absolutely not,” Flynn says. “At least, not without me or my siblings.”

“…What?” Flynn? Coming with her? And the rest of the Bosteus– she hadn’t thought of it.

“I’m coming with you, and my siblings will be happy to join you. And where we go, our mother goes. She can argue all she wants but she’s coming with us.”

“You won’t have to argue, dear,” and the children look up at the stairs where Moirin stands. She’d heard the two speaking, after getting up to investigate the noise of Beth leaving. She descends the stairs with a smile on her weary face. “I know I can’t stop you. And the only way I’ll know you’re safe is to come with you. But, milady,” she sighs, looking up to the balcony, “what will your father think? You leave in the night so he won’t have to know, but he will look for you, you know that, don’t you?”

Beth stares up at the door to her father’s room. How she’s tried so hard to earn his love. She’s always wondered what he was like, before she came around. When he was kind.

She reminds herself that he is no longer that man. She can never bring him happiness, true happiness like he had with her mother. She tells herself he loves her and she’s afraid to admit to herself it’s a lie. But here she stands, leaving home forever.

She can’t do all this without admitting she’s right.

“I know, Moirin,” she says, nodding. “But I have to do it anyway. I need to know.”

She sees another smile on Moirin’s face in the moonlight. “That’s what I thought you’d say, child. Wait for us–I’ll go wake the children.”

It’s going to be a long night.

—

“Gotcha!”

Flynn, not but a child of three years old, squeals with delight as he’s lifted into the air. His father’s strong arms, forged from years of labour in his carpentry workshop, pump his little body into the air, leaving John’s rough hands for just a moment, and returning to their safety with a scream of joy. John’s wears the biggest smile on his face, full of joy, and his darling wife Moirin watches from outside.

They’ve been married for four years now. They met three years before that. She reflects as she trims the hedges outside. Moirin’s always felt more comfortable with a storage of herbs in their home; there’s nothing quite like lavender to heal the heart. Her husband watches over the children as he works. Two darling twins born only a few months ago, Ariel a year and a half old sitting in a wooden crib carved by John. Little Flynn runs from his father’s arms as he chases him around the shop.

“Be careful, you two!” she calls inside. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt!”

“We’ll be fine, dear,” John laughs, bouncing Flynn in his arms. “Won’t we, buddy?” Flynn laughs and pats his father’s face, urging him to keep playing. John sets him down, and the young boy runs off to hide while John shields his eyes. He gives a knowing glance out the window at Moirin, and she smiles at him in return.

They’ve never been more in love.

—

Moirin frowns as the convoy looks around the corner of a building. A lavender bush blocks her vision, and she reaches forward to push the branches down. Peering down the street, a thin veil of fog densely hovers in the village square. She can hardly make out the shape at the docks, but Beth was right–a ship sways gently in the waters, illuminated by the soft moonlight cast from the dark blanket above them. She’d much rather be in bed, but there’s no time to think of that now.

“I think the coast is clear,” she whispers back at the children. “It’s not much farther to the docks, and the entire town is asleep. Are you sure this is the right boat, Beth?”

“There isn’t really a right boat,” she says as they serpentine through the square, down an alleyway behind some shops. “Whichever boat takes us far away from here is fine by me. That boat’s been docked here all day, so I don’t.. think they want to kill anybody.”

“That’s incredibly reassuring,” Emmett mutters under his breath.

“Hush, both of you,” the governess hisses. “This is no time for bickering. Come on now, let’s get a move on.”

Moirin stands and hurries across the square, the five teenagers trailing behind her. Dressed in cloaks, they blend into the darkness, hidden from the curious eyes of the townsfolk.

Moirin’s heart beats out of her chest. She can’t let the children know her fear, but seeing the ominous ship at the docks brings too many painful memories…

—

“No, I heard it, too.”

She feels John’s hand on her shoulder, gently keeping her in bed. He’s lit a candle, and sits at the edge of their mattress. John sits still as a statue, and–

And they hear the noise again. Distant shouting, several bangs. And all of a sudden, those bangs are as near as their front door. Moirin gasps, covering her mouth with her hands, her eyes going wide. Ariel begins to stir in her crib.

John has lept to the window to see a sight truly horrifying.

There’s bodies in the streets. Homes down the center road of town are burning to the ground, men armed with swords and guns storming in and out with treasures in their arms. Men protecting their homes fight in the streets, some fallen to the tricky way of these–

Pirates.

“Stay here,” John says, and he stands away from the window, grabbing a large hammer propped against the wall. “Stay here, and stay silent. Not a peep.”

“John, what are you thinking?!” she nearly cries. “You’ll be killed!”

“I don’t intend to fight,” he reassures her, and he cups her face in his palm, his thumb caressing her cheek. “But I’ll be damned if any of those brutes make it up here. I’ll die before they lay a hand on you.”

Moirin hates his words, but somehow they’re reassuring. He’s spoken the worst, and certainly such a thing couldn’t happen.

Johnathan waits, weapon at the ready, on the base of the stairs, hidden behind a large shelf he’d been commissioned by the Collins. Moirin can see him from here, his auburn hair illuminated by the fires of several buildings outside. Nearly an hour passes, and though their hearts are ready to burst from anxiousness, their humble abode remains undisturbed.

The raging battles outside begin to die down, and though the Bosteus know that many of their friends are probably dead, they’re still alive. The burning lights of fire dim. Johnathan sighs, nearly two hours after the couple had been awoken, and he begins to climb the stairs back to his family. Moirin counts her blessings that John’s workshop is hidden behind a few other buildings–it’s probably why they weren’t–

There’s a loud bang from downstairs.

The Bosteaus freeze in their place, and Ariel begins to fuss in her crib again.

Then there’s voices.

John holds a finger to his lips and Moirin clutches her chest in fear. He tiptoes over to the stairs again, hammer at the ready, and listens carefully.

“What the hell are we doing in here,” a gruff voice asks, “There’s no valuables here! Just all this scrap wood.”

“This is someone’s house, you idiots!” another voice hisses, and there’s a thud as something falls over downstairs. John’s heart stops in his chest–if they come up here.. “Someone lives here and that means there’s money here! Sorry sap must be lying out in the square with all the others. I’ll look down here, you check upstairs.”

There’s steps on the stairs and before Moirin can say anything, John has leapt from the top step and slammed his hammer into the man ascending the stairs. There’s a sickening crack, a scream of pain, and the sound of two voices downstairs in surprise. Two– John had only been expecting one.

“You stay out of my house,” Johnathan snarls, “stay out of my shop and leave me alone, or the same will happen to you.”

“I knew that man for years,” the second voice growls, “I’ll kill you for that!”

The next moments are a blur for Moirin. She’d tried after years to forget the sounds she’d heard that night. The sounds of John’s work destroyed. The sounds of beating and kicking and slamming as three mens’ bodies are thrown against walls, to the floor. She remembers a yell of frustration–

And a gun firing.

She remembers John screaming out in pain and Ariel crying from her crib.

She remembers rushing to the stairs as John pleads for the men not to hurt his family, bleeding out on the ground. She remembers the awful sight of one of the men digging his hand into the wound and her husband screaming, and losing consciousness from the pain.

She remembers another gunshot, and silence.

She can never forget that darkness that greeted her. One moment she’s crying out and fighting off one of the men as another picks up her husband’s limp body, and the next there is a stabbing pain across her collarbone, and her body dropping to the ground. She remembers the stars in her eyes as her head slammed against a table on the way down.

She remembers waking up to the smell of fire long since put out as she lay beside a wide open window, the feelings of soft linen encompassing her. She’d been rescued by the Collins, taken to their home along with her children. She’d begged to work as a maid and healer so that she might live there, for the memories of her old home were too strong. She couldn’t bear to remember those sounds every day.

And yet, she can never forget them.

—

Their footsteps along the wooden docks are surprisingly silent, Moirin finds. The children are quite good at sneaking around. It’s a realization that explains quite a few happenstances at the manor. Flynn and Ariel scout ahead of them, ducking behind barrels, while Beth and the twins remain by her side. The young lady can hardly contain herself, and stares up at the boat. A fearsome creature with serpents for hair decorates the hull, mighty claws protruding from hands that grin the boat. The face is contorted forever in a raging roar.

Moirin doesn’t feel right about this.

“Coast is clear,” Flynn whispers back to the group, and Ariel gestures for the rest to follow. A plank extends from the docks to the ship, and the two scurry up to the top, vanishing behind the railings. Beth nearly runs, almost tripping over her dress, and the twins brush Moirin as they hurry by, following behind their lady. Moirin lifts her skirts and follows behind, climbing the plank…

…and sees no one at the top. Not her children, not her charge. Her heart skips a beat, and she tenses in panic.

“Ch-children?” she calls out, unafraid to be heard. “Where did you–”

A hand clamps over her mouth, and everything goes dark.

—

“Mother!”

“Mother… mother, wake up!”

“Mm… what..?…”

Moirin stirs, lifting her head. Her neck aches–letting her head slump down in her unconsciousness has left her feeling incredibly pained. She reaches up to stretch–

–reaches–

–and realizes her arms are bound.

The realization jolts her system and she finally looks at her surroundings.

She’s on her knees, bound by chains, her children in a line beside her, all the same. Beth is at the opposite end of the line, her lip quivering and her body shaking. No one appears to be hurt–but Moirin doesn’t know that for sure.

She steadied herself as the boat rocks, and she looks around at the deck. Men–pirates–fill the crew, pulling ropes and adjusting the sails, scanning the horizon and leaning the deck. The full moon rises over the night sky, shining down upon the backs of the crew.

The stowaways turn their faces forward as a figure steps down fro the helm, a flaming torch in hand. They’re followed by a tall, slight man with eyes bandaged–and yet, he walks as if he bears sight better than the entire crew combined.

“So, stowaways, hm?” the first figure says, and despite being dressed in a hooded cloak hiding their face, Moirin figures out quite quickly that the captain is a woman. “Not often do you find anyone brave enough to board the Gorgon’s Eye, let alone a bunch of kids and their nanny.” Flynn and Ariel exchange wide eyed looks– they’ve heard of this captain before.

The captain paces in front of them, her boots clicking against the wooden deck. She holds the torch dangerously close to her captives’ faces. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news, you lot. Well, I suppose it’s all bad news. I’m not going to be harming a hair on your head tonight. And while I’d love to teach you all a lesson, you’ve been brought onto this ship under.. interesting circumstance. It is not often we of the alliance make way to Ilê de la Lune, considering its.. history with our captains. But on the rare occasion we do intercept no good liars from the town, it’s by the request of my fellow captain I lay not a finger on your head.”

The children breath a sigh of relief.

“No, that’s why I’ll be delivering you directly to him. The Spirit of the Sea prefers to deal with the scoundrels of Ilê de la Lune himself.”

Flynn almost faints.

The captain notices his demeanor, and steps close to him. “Ah, I see you’ve heard of him. So you know the fate that awaits you. Hope you all like fashion, because he’ll be making you quite a pair of concrete shoes to tour the bottom of the ocean with.”

“What the captain does with them is for him is for him to decide, Captain Gabrielle,” a young man says, walking over. He’s tall, his dark hair tied with a ragged bit of ribbon. Despite his young appearance, Moirin can tell that strong muscles hide beneath his coat. “Though I doubt he’ll disagree with you.”

“First Mate Johnny here will be your escort,” Gabrielle says. Moirin frowns–she’s going to die by the hands of a man with the same name as her beloved, and a pirate too. Well, maybe not by his hands, but he’ll certainly have a part in it. “He’s not my first mate, but he likes to supervise when we travel to your realm.

“I’ve preparations to make,” Gabrielle boasts, “and with Johnny here I have no need to babysit. Men, get back to your duties! Benjamin, mind the wheel, won’t you?” and the blind man nods, climbing the steps of the boat to man the helm.

The group doesn’t get many words in to each other. Johnny sits and watches them, but looks out to the sea. They must have been sailing for hours now, but the moon refuses to duck down below the watery horizon. Beth trembles, and Flynn and Ariel scout the deck, trying to reassure themselves that they’ll be fine. The twins remain indifferent, as usual, but being their Mother, Moirin knows them well enough to see that they fear for their lives as well. And what can she do? She’s bound just as they are. She has no hopes of freeing her bonds–the only one of them who might possibly be strong enough is Flynn, and he remains shackled. She feels hopeless. She wants to blame Beth, but she can’t–the poor girl just wanted to be free. It was never Moirin’s place to say, but she disagreed with Lord Collins’ behavior. Losing a loved one is devastating, but he chose to give up. He had the world at his disposal and he abandoned his daughter. Moirin wonders if that’s why he did so–her poverty with her husband and on her own made the few things she had precious to her. She’d be lost without her children. But Lord Collins had everything, and perhaps his status influenced him into isolation.

Moirin has not much more time to ponder as she hears Flynn whimper to her right. She follows his gaze out to the water, and–

It can’t be real.

The dead must truly walk the earth, and this must be their vessel. It emerges from the fog, a spirit drifting through this mortal plane. The sails, tattered and worm, glow as the moon casts a deathly light through them. Lanterns along the ship appear as though lost souls, journeying to the other side. This ship means Death, and it’s headed right for them.

A figure heads the hull of the ship. An angel, fallen from the heavens before her time, lacerated and bloodied, surrounded by four messengers of above, carved out of the wood of the boat as if it were stone.

Perhaps it’s her fear being irrational, but Moirin sees her own face in its visage.

The six captives can do nothing but stare as the ship comes around beside the Gorgon’s Eye, both now still in the moonlit waters. Two long boards raise up on the other ship’s deck, and come crashing down along the railings, creating a bridge. First mate Johnny is now going down the line, hoisting up the prisoners by the chains that bind them. Bethany leads, followed by Flynn, and Moirin ends the convoy. The young first mate shoves her along, a frown on his face. Captain Gabrielle emerges from her quarters and follows the group, observing with a smirk on her face as the captives are roughhoused onto the boat.

The six are roughly tossed across the deck, sitting in front of the mast just as they were on the Gorgon’s Eye. But this is different. The heaviness of this vessel is much different than their deliverer for the past several hours. The men, strong as they may be, look gaunt and pale. Old and young men alike, they look lost. An eerie howl whistles through the weathered wood, sending chills up Moirin’s spine. The smell of smoke lingers. It’s not gunpowder, it’s almost like..

Well, that would be absurd.

She hasn’t smelled anything like it in over 20 years. Is this what they mean when they say your life flashes before your eyes? Why is she remembering him, now, so close to her own doom?

A stray tear falls down her cheek, feeling hopeless. Her children, her Lady.. all will die tonight and she has to watch.

Her thoughts are interrupted once again as the doors of the Captain’s quarters open. The figure before them..

She’s never seen a man so imposing before.

The first thing she notices is his gait. As he walks toward them, his tattered old coat billowing behind him, his steps are heavy. Being a healer, it takes her less than a second to know this man has suffered severe leg trauma. He limps, a shining silver sword glinting in the moonlight, used like a cane. Though his face is hidden in the shadow of his hat, a ghostly pale beard like mist shines from the evening sky. He grows closer, and Moirin can see that his hands are bandaged, the fingers that stick out disfigured. But these hands did not become this way from an accident–she’s never seen a worker’s hands with so severe a case of arthritis. Decades of heavy labour have weighed on those hands. It’s a miracle he can still use them.

So intrigued by his appearance she nearly forgets why he’s appeared, and the reminder as the man holds a lantern to Beth’s face and grabs the girl roughly around the cheeks is enough to send her reeling.

“So this is the filth that crawls around that old port these days,” the man growls. His voice is coarse with years of smoke, barking orders and reprimanding his crew.

“Found them spilling over the railings at port,” Gabrielle recalls, stepping closer. First Mate Johnny watches, and leans against the stairs to the wheel, crossing his arms. “Figured you’d want to deal with them yourself.”

“As always, Gabrielle, you know just what I like,” he murmurs. “Exterminating these.. vermin.”

Moirin hears something sad in his tone. She’d feel sympathetic if he wasn’t threatening her children at the moment. “Children, scavenging.. for what? Gold? Treasures? Or is Lord Collins keeping you all so poor that you’ve no choice but to steal so that you don’t starve?”

Flynn’ initial fear is gone now–replaced with a rage at this man’s ignorance that counters no others.

“Watch what you say about Lord Collins,” Flynn says, seeing Beth angry but too shaken to say anything. The captain’s head whips towards Flynn, and he drops his hand from Beth’s face to step in front of him, towering over him.

“You’d argue with me, boy?” the captain sneers. “I saw your fear when I stepped onto this deck, you’ve heard what I do to dishonest men like you. Lying, cheating thieves, pillaging and plundering. Not a respect to the Pirate Code nor the code of this Realm we’re cursed to walk.”

Beth coughs, and tries to speak up. Her voice wavers, but she’s determined to be heard.

“D-don’t hurt them,” she says, “I o-order you. As Captain Neva Arazel’s only child, don’t.. don’t hurt my friends.”

The captain stares at her, and though she can’t see his face she can feel his burning glare. Gabrielle’s smirk drops from her face. The older captain stares.

And then he scoffs. He laughs.

And he’s right in her face.

“You think that’s funny, girl? You think it’s funny to taunt about that woman? One of the pirate lords of the AB Alliance– and you, stuffy girl pent up in Collins’ mansion, claim to be her daughter? You never knew her! We learned under Captain Favroe, we fought together, sailed together–what do you know of her?”

“She’s my mother,” Beth repeats, and she looks down to her necklace. “This sapphire was her last gift to me before she died. And I just know she’s my mother.”

The captain looks down at the necklace. He grabs the chain and pulls it from her neck, holding up the pendant.

“It is not uncommon for your kind to thieve,” the captain snarls. “To thieve and lie. That’s all you are, you filth.”

“Knock it off!” Ariel speaks up. “She’s telling the truth!”

The Captain scoffs again and pockets the necklace, limping over to the rest of the captives. “You rats are quite brave to speak against me! You stupid girl,” he laughs, “and twins. Aye, I bet you’ve pulled quite a trick on many a couple. You look deceptive. Could murder an innocent and no one would be the wiser.” He turns back to Ariel, the smoke on his breath filling her nose, “I can only -imagine- what a rat like you would do. You sneak aboard ships, steal, you dishonorable little whelps–”

“What did Ilê de la Lune ever do to you? How do you know that’s who we are?” Ariel demands. What comes from the captain can only be described as a roar.

“Ilê de la Lune took everything from me! What was left of this soul died in that port, and left me to rot! Left innocents to starve, and perish– I want back there in remorse to find only heartless ruin, and no remembrance of the lives lost there! You heartless cowards see nothing but gold within those Collins walls, you did nothing! Nothing to fix what happened! Left it all to–”

“Stop it!” Moirin shouts. “You’ve said enough! They’re children, please! Show some compassion!”

“Compassion? From Ilê de la Lune?” he snarls. He walks over to Moirin now, and holds the lantern to her face.

She sees him open his mouth to speak. She can see his mouth, contorted in anger. But no sound comes out. His body stiffens. He steps back.

The lantern drops.

It shatters across the deck and the captain wavers back, leaning on his sword. His first mate hurries to him and keeps him steady.

“Captain, what– father, what’s wrong?”

The captain says nothing, and he looks at the other captives. Slowly, he gazes at each of their faces. Johnny insists, and the captain shakily waves him off. The crew is curious: from the looks of it, they’ve never seen their captain so disturbed. Gabrielle’s hand has drifted to her sword. As he stands upright, he turns around back to his cabin.

“Bring them to my quarters,” he says to Johnny. His voice is quiet, wavering. “Release their bindings. And order the crew back to the Alliance. Urgently.”

“Ghost,” Gabrielle says, and she reaches for him, but she finds his blade lifted to her neck.

“This does not concern you or your crew,” the captain–Ghost– rumbles. “Go back to your ship, Gabrielle. Summon the Alliance to the Court.”

“The Court?” she says, startled. “What could prompt–”

“Just do it!” he barks. “I’ll explain my actions once we dock.”

Captain Ghost shuffles into his quarters, the door slamming behind them, and Johnny shouts his orders to the crew. As he undoes their chains, the children can’t help but look to each other in confusion.

They can’t help but look at Moirin.

What has she done?

—

The wooden door creaks on its hinges as it swings open. This room, though as old as the rest of the ship, feels different. It’s warm, comfortable. It’s well lit– several candles and lanterns scattered about make sure of that. A large oak desk, expertly carved with a craftsman’s touch, takes up the center of the cabin. Scattered across the surface are maps and books, catalogues, charts, some held in place by a knife or two stabbed into the wood.

On one side of the room, several chests: though one undoubtedly is filled with treasure, the only open chest contains nothing but ragged clothes. On the opposite side, a small bed huddled into the crook of the wooden beams. Too short for the tall captain, the thin blankets are balled up in one corner. Several bottles of rum and a well-worn smoking pipe lie atop the sheets. A large bookcase is filled to the brim with all types of novels, be they fictional or not. It’s the biggest collection of books any of them have every seen.

The captain stands behind his desk, looking out at the sea through the windows behind it, his back turned to them. In the light of this room, they can see more of him, now. His hair, long and wiry and white, matted and knotted, reaches past his neckline, resting between his shoulder bones. His coat is ragged and old and has seen much better days–where outside it was a mysterious black, here they can see it’s a faded red leather, dirtied to the point of being a murky brown. He wears a waistcoat, frayed at the seams, and beneath the belts and holsters his once white shirt is yellowed and faded by the sun.

“I could never stand the sight of that place,” he says, staring at the wake of the waves behind the great boat. The children fidget, unsure what fate will befall them–but Moirin watches the Captain. There’s something familiar about him, and if he knows Ilê de la Lune… “It’s been so long,” he sighs. “What kind of man am I that I can’t find the strength to go back there? To let what happened affect me so. And yet..”

He goes quiet. Quiet, for a time. He stands and stares at the sea, deep in thought, gripping his sword. The ship rocks, and wood chips fall from the desk. Moirin notices a few tools sitting on the side, a small wooden figure half carved and–

Wait.

“There was nothing but ruin. An empty house, burnt furniture. Worse than I’d left it. I visited the cemetery that trip, years after what happened. I couldn’t find my family’s names. They’d not been given the respect they deserved. I knew in my heart they had died, and I died with them that day.”

–something golden shines on his hand, a metal band wrapped around his finger, how didn’t she see it before, it can’t be–

The captain removes his hat, and turns to face them.

Moirin stops breathing.

“I never considered,” Johnathan says, “that they might still be alive.”

“Oh, God,” Moirin cries, and the children face her in shock. They’ve not heard her voice in such a way, and why– “I can’t b-believe that it’s– y-y-you, oh, God–”

She doesn’t register as her feet take her up behind the desk, as he limps towards her, and the sword clatters to the floor as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, his around her waist. Their lips lock and twenty years worth of tears come spilling down her cheeks.

He smells just the same way she remembers. Smoke and ash, burning flame.

Twenty years.

She looks up at his face, and her heart swells to see those same eyes she fell in love with. Crystal blue, weary sunken eyes, peering out from a face worn with age past his years. His thick eyebrows have lightened in these two decades, but they still sit heavy above his sagging eyes. His hair, she remembers, was a deep auburn, and now, this close, she can see at his scalp the same color.

This can’t be real.

And yet, here he is, his hand cupping her cheek just as she remembers, his comfort, his warmth.

“You don’t look a day older, mon amour,” Johnathan smiles. “Look at your hair. Not a flicker of grey anywhere.”

“You got the short end of the stick on that one,” she laughs, and John wipes away her tears with his thumb.

Moirin rests her head on his chest and sees the children in shock, but Flynn.. he looks hurt.

Angry.

“Mother,” he asks, leaning forward, “who is this man? Why do you treat him this way?”

Moirin takes a breath, and looks up to John. He nods.

“Flynn,” she says, “I didn’t.. expect any of this. I’ve only ever loved one man, you know that. Your father.” She can’t take the smile off her face, and her cheeks feel hot with fresh tears. “He’s alive, children. This is him. I don’t know.. how,” and she looks up to her husband, “but I’m ready to learn.”

“To think I was ready to hurt my own children,” Johnathan murmurs, ashamed of himself. “The rage I felt, loosing you all… but you stand before me, four beautiful young children… And the daughter of my dearest friend.”

He looks to Bethany as he says this, and the young girl’s face lights up.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” he smiles, and his hand takes Moirin’s. Her fingers jitter, twitching along with her excited heart. “And we’ve got quite a long journey ahead of us.”

Ariel and the twins, hardly able to keep their excitement contained, pull up boxes and chests to sit on, finding seats as close as they can. Bethany grabs the nearest stool, trying to remain ladylike but overjoyed to finally be learning more about her mother.

Flynn, with that odd scowl on his face, leans against the old bookshelf.

As Moirin and Johnathan sit down, and John begins to tell his story, she can hardly contain her tears. She can’t stop watching his face, watching it move, watching as his hands enunciate, as his eyes glisten with tears he won’t let loose.

He’s real. And he’s alive.

And they’re together again.

At last.

#Clara writes #pirate au #ghostmo #pirate au 2.0 #ghosty posty

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adorkable--laughter · 8 years ago

Text

Friendship Day

Carry On Valentine’s Day Celebration

Word count: 1978

Baz’s POV

It was on Friendship Day that everything changed. Simon did this whole thing - he made me a card (full of hearts and lovey-dovey things written on it – he made it so incredibly difficult for me not to cross over the “just friends” barrier) and got balloons and everything. It was ridiculous, but he clearly put a lot of thought and effort into it.

He told me we’re going to have dinner together and that the whole night was a surprise. He promised I’d have a blast, and I didn't doubt him - I never did - but I still argued. We always argue. We argue and we laugh and we argue and we laugh and somehow, we’ve been side-by-side since we were 5 years old, since he threw a toy at me in the orphanage.

I remember being quite outraged the day we met. My mother always made me go play with the kids at the orphanage (she and my father owned it – the Grimm-Pitch Orphanage (frightening name for an orphanage, I know), but my aunt Fiona took over when she passed).

There was a new kid there that day, the same age as me, and I later found out that he’d been living in orphanages since birth, and had just been moved to this one (his third one) because kids were picking on him too much. Unaware of that fact, I went for my usual sarcastic approach (which my mom was very much unaware of, thank god), but he reacted differently than most kids. I must’ve said something of the sort: “Did mummy say bye before she left you?” I was such a bully and I hate myself for it. (Being upset that your daily chore is to play with other kids is the most absurd thing, I now realize.)

I didn’t expect to go home with a bruise on the side of my face that day because Simon decided to throw a Barbie doll at me. But then again, I didn’t expect a lot of things when it came to Simon, including the whole “Friendship Day” celebration.

I was convinced he made up the whole ordeal (who knew people are petty enough to make a day called “Friendship Day”), but I played along. I put on my nicest tight-fitted jeans and dark gray button-up (I even wore the fancy watch my dad gave me for my last birthday, my 18th), and I went to Simon’s apartment at 7:00 PM. He got the apartment as soon as he saved up enough money to move out.

He had wanted to move out almost right after he got adopted. I mean, he was ecstatic at first. He was 11 years old and lucky to finally be adopted, and though I was sad (way too sad) to have lost a friend I could play with every day, I was also happy for him. That is, until I found out what his adoptive father, David, was like.

I could only really see Simon at school once he got adopted (I was only 11 years old and incapable of navigating the world on my own), until one day he came to me, crying, in the middle of the night. He knocked on my window, and he was shivering so bad (he was only in a T-shirt and he had frozen tears covering his face), and when I let him in he couldn’t even explain what happened. He had a large purple bruise on the side of his face and even more swollen bruises underneath his clothing, I would later find out. It took him weeks to find the words and mumble to me, “He beat me up. My dad. He beat me up.”

“Was that the only time?” I had asked him, and he shook his head. “How many times?” I then asked, and he lifted two fingers sadly.

That pretty much marked the start of 5 years of pain for Simon and me. All I could do was be by his side at school and hug him whenever he looked lost, and let him in my room at night when he came, with tears and bruises and sometimes blood. It came to the point where he would sleep in my bed multiple times every week, and I’d wrap my arms around him tightly, wanting to protect him so badly. He’d shake and shiver, and he’d wince if I pressed the wrong spot while I ran my hands up and down his back soothingly.

My mother grew suspicious after Simon forgot to sneak back home before sunrise a few times (he was sleeping too peacefully in my arms for either of us to care). We should have told her about Simon’s adopted father. She could have helped, or at least she could have tried. She knew a lot more about the paperwork and the law and how much power we had to get Simon back, but we were silly kids.

She questioned me after finding Simon in my bed when she came to wake me up for school, and after a few times, I was so close to spilling it all, but it was too late. Everything shattered.

Or, more accurately, everything went up in flames. The Orphanage burned down, with her in it. She had stayed late that night, having to fill out paperwork for the triplets that had just been dropped off, and she had fallen asleep on her desk. Her office was in the basement, and the fire started upstairs where the stove was left on underneath the wooden cabinets.

All the other workers escaped with the kids, apparently having forgotten that their boss was still downstairs. My mother rarely stayed late, but still, if they had been more attentive, then they could’ve gotten to her before the ceiling collapsed and completely blocked her in. She’d been trapped, completely trapped.

I was twelve and I was devastated. My father continued to focus on work instead of me and I felt so alone. Except, I had Simon. He was always there for me.

I remember being so unresponsive to all his efforts to help me through my grieving. I turned cold and emotionless, and even though I didn’t physically push him away, I did push him away emotionally.

One year later, his adoptive mom died in a car crash and Simon was left alone with his adoptive father. One thing after another, things were collapsing. We’re lucky our friendship remained in tact.

We got through our high school years together, and when we turned 18, things started to get better. He was old enough to escape his adoptive dad and I was starting University, which distracted me enough from negative thoughts and emotions. Simon isn’t going to University yet. He needs to work full-time to afford the apartment and food and everything he needs to live. And there’s no way he can afford school fees.

I practically live at his apartment now. It’s much closer to my University than my house is, so I stay there during the week and go home on weekends.

He is my best friend, my only friend, and I think it’s our friendship that has kept us both alive this long.

Maybe that’s why I’m so nervous for tonight. Maybe that’s why my thoughts have been spiraling all over the place as I got ready and as I drove to pick him up and now, as I lift my hand to knock on his door.

But when he opens the door and I see his smile and his sparkling blue eyes and his messy curs and the way he dressed up just for me, I know it’s more than that. I know it’s because of my damn heart beating like crazy whenever we’re in the same room. I know it’s because I’m so damn in love with him.

I’m a mess because this whole thing seems way too much like a date, and I can’t handle it.

“Hey,” Simon says. So simple.

“Oh – uh – hi,” I respond.

“Come in,” he says, waving me towards him.

“Aren’t we going somewhere?” I ask.

“No, we’re gonna stay here.”

“Why did I have to dress up then?” He asked me to dress up special in the card he gave me this morning when he rang my doorbell at early-o-clock with balloons and a huge smile.

“Uh,” he blushes, “well, we’re dressing up for each other, not for others, you know?”

“Um… yeah, I guess.”

He grabs my arm and pulls me inside, shutting the door behind me.

“I made dinner,” he says.

“You made dinner?” I’m quite shocked. Simon rarely cooks for himself, he lives off of cheap pre-made meals and food that I make him (it’s a bit sad).

He nods. “I guess I wanted to show you, um… how much you mean to me, you know?”

I nod, robotically, taking off my jacket and putting it on the coat rack. When I’m done, he grabs my hand and pulls me to the dinner table, which has lit candles in the center. My heart stars beating way too fast.

He squeezes my hand before letting go and sitting in one of the two chairs, and I feel quite wobbly. We’re always very touchy, but tonight it feels like it has some sort of special meaning behind it.

I take a seat across from him and look down at the plate in front of me, which has a sandwich on it. He made sandwiches.

That’s so adorable. I can’t help it, I burst out laughing.

He pouts at me. “I tried very hard,” he says.

“I know,” I reply. “They look delicious.”

We eat mostly in silence, but it’s comfortable. We spend lot of time in silence, and it’s the most relieving thing ever. Talking gets exhausting after awhile.

We clean the dishes together, and then we sit on his couch together and play board games. We’re both sitting cross-legged, each at one end of the couch.

I always beat him at chess, but he always beats me at snakes and ladders, and it’s no different tonight. It feels nice and normal, until Simon pushes the games aside around midnight and looks me directly in the eye, intensely.

He scooches closer to me and grabs my hand, then starts drawing shapes on my wrist. My stomach twists and pulls and tightens.

“Baz,” he says.

I copy him. I grab his other hand and I start tracing his fingers. “Simon,” I say, and I feel broken all over again. It’s so, so bad, how he breaks me, again and again. He makes me forget how to breathe, he makes me forget how to move my fingers and how to say the alphabet backwards and how to be a sane human being.

He grabs both of my hands, tightly. And then he pulls. He pulls me towards him, and I’m falling.

I’m falling but I’m holding his hands, which makes everything okay.

He pulls until I’m in his lap and his lips are on mine.

He kisses me and he kisses me and he does it so passionately. He does it like he’s been thinking about it for awhile, like he’s wanted it for awhile.

I push him down so he’s lying on his back and I kiss him just as passionately. I kiss him until I can’t breathe anymore. And then I kiss everywhere on his face and his neck. I rub my lips against his skin and I even nibble some places. He wraps himself around me and we both look at each other like all the problems in the world have been solved.

“You’re more than just a friend,” Simon says to me, and I respond with my lips.

#Carry On Valentine's #Carry On Valentin's Celebration #carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #my fanfiction #fanfiction #original

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