#⬖⟩⟩ i vow to never leave this place for the good of the world! ( salmon team )

[storiesofsvu]

Kitchen Mishaps

Rita Calhoun x reader warnings: minor language and alcohol. semi requested by @alexusonfire yn tries to teach Rita how to cook.

Rita would be the first to tell you that she was not a whiz in the kitchen, that her meals were either incredibly simple, pre-made or it was gonna be takeout. She had a handle on breakfasts, though they weren’t too hard to ruin and she was never going to adventure far past eggs and toast with bacon or oatmeal. It was easy enough to toss together salad ingredients for lunches, stopping at Whole Foods to pick up a hot and fresh salmon filet or chicken breast to put on top come lunch hour. Dinners were when things complicated and part of the reason why she spent so much time in restaurants or cocktail lounges working through dinner.

Though she’d made a vow to change that when the two of you started dating, wanting to make sure that you knew how much she appreciated your time together and just how much she loved you. She was impressed within the first couple of weeks you invited her over to your place for a dinner date and you said you were cooking for her. Rita being well… Rita had been expecting take out and a bottle of wine. Instead she was met with pomegranate maple glazed lamb chops, whipped sweet potatoes and roasted brussel sprouts that tasted even better than she could have imagined. She would be eternally grateful for having found a partner who was as good in the kitchen as you, especially considering how much you enjoyed it. She would often leave her credit card with you so you could pick up whatever you wanted for the week and whip it all together into meals for the both of you to take for work and leave her with some extras on the nights you weren’t around so she wasn’t stuck with takeout for the tenth night in a row.

But for date night tonight, she wanted to return the favour.

When she’d first told you, you simply kissed her cheek and reminded her which take out places were your favourite. After a small laugh from her she said that she really wanted to return the favour, that she was interested in actually cooking for you but in an attempt to save the apartment from going up in flames, that she thought it might be a nice date night to have you teach her something that was a step up from ramen but nothing too complicated.

Which is how you got to Friday night, pulling out various packages from the fridge to scatter over the kitchen island, digging through the cupboards to find the appropriate cooking tools. You’d already cracked a bottle of Rita’s favourite red wine, pouring out two glasses, one that you were sipping on as you waited for her to get home.

“I am so sorry I’m late.” She immediately apologised before she was even halfway through the door.

“I usually budget an extra half hour when I know you’re working with Raf.” You replied, stepping toward her with a grin to steal a kiss.

“You’re a true angel.” She kissed your cheek gently, “I’m just going to change, I’ll be right back.”

You’d expected her to return in the usual leggings and cozy shirt, but considering this was date night, and you were still in a cute sundress from your day, she’d simply lost the blazer and swapped the skirt for a pair of dress pants, her hair loosely pulled back from her face.

“Okay, step one, put this on.” You held out an apron to her and she all about scoffed.

“I don’t need an apron.”

“Rita, please. You’re wearing white. And the world will end if you get marinara sauce on your—” your fingers deftly slipped into the back of the neck band, checking the tag, “Prada. Either that or change into something you don’t care about.” Begrudgingly, she took the apron from you, tightening it around her waist and tying it behind her neck, though she softened when you leaned in to kiss her, “adorable, now wash your hands.”

“Certainly are demanding.” She teased with a grin and you rolled your eyes, watching as she did what you asked.

“Okay so, lasagna.” You gestured to the items laid out on the island, “where would you start?”

“Well it’s just layering so this can’t be too tricky. And while I may be a bit incompetent in the kitchen I’m not completely daft, that meat needs to be cooked.”

“Yeah.” You laughed, kissing her temple, “I was going to do that part for you.”

“What? You don’t trust me with an open flame?”

“Do you know how to put out a grease fire properly?” You cocked a brow in her direction as you grabbed a pan from the cupboard and she rolled her eyes with a laugh.

“Fair point.”

“To start, can you mince up that garlic and half that onion?” You asked, flicking the burner on to preheat the pan.

“And then are we seasoning?”  She asked, carefully focussed on her task.

“Just basics, we’ll add in the extras with the sauce.”

“Don’t tell Carisi it’s coming from a jar.” She teased and you laughed, twisting the jar around to show the post it note taped to the front, a best before date and flavour scrawled across it.

“Where do you think I got this from? Just be glad I’m not making you make the noodles from scratch.”

“And I will forever thank you for that.” Finishing up on the mincing she scooped the bits up into a ramekin, passing it off to you and you thanked her softly, tossing them into the pan. “Should I start the first layer?” She asked, glancing in your direction and you smiled.

“We’ve gotta cook the pasta first.”

“Doesn’t it just cook with the rest of it?” She gestured to the pre-heating oven and you giggled.

“I guess there’s some recipes out there that you can do that, but not this way. Put on a pot of water for me?”

You added the meat to the pan, breaking up the beef and mixing it around to make sure it would brown evenly while Rita pulled out a large pot, filling it with water and salting it before placing it on the stove. You stepped back from the stove, taking a minute to hand Rita a glass of wine,

“See, isn’t so hard after all.” You clinked your glass to hers, taking a sip and she chuckled.

“Believe me, it’s only because you’re here. I’m certain something would be burning already otherwise.”

“Oh, you’re not that bad.” You laughed, leaning in to kiss her gently, “I still don’t understand how you claim you can’t cook but your baking is always impeccable.”

“I couldn’t tell you.” She shrugged with a laugh, turning back to the stove when she noticed the water boiling so she could add in the pasta noodles.

The process went on like this as you timed things, guiding Rita through the steps, mixing the cheeses together, lowering the heat on the meat (though you were sure to drain it for her) so she could add the sauce and spices, letting things thicken up. You kept an eye on things while she drained the noodles and the two of you carefully layered everything into the baking tray, wrapping it tightly with foil before Rita popped it in the oven and you smiled proudly at her, giving her a gentle kiss before setting the timer.

While it was baking the two of you had some time to relax, refilling wine glasses, tidying up the kitchen a little bit as you went so there wasn’t a huge mess in the morning. Rita’s usual date night playlist was echoing through the apartment, a mix of classical, soft jazz, speckled with your favourite songs. She couldn’t help but twirl you under her arm, pulling you to her for a brief dance, leaving a feather light kiss on your lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.” She replied with a grin, stealing another kiss before her arm wrapped around your waist and the two of you wandered over to the couch.

Rita curled herself in the corner, tugging your legs across her lap so her fingers could trace patterns across your skin. You spent the next forty five minutes simply enjoying each other’s company, catching up on your days, making plans for the rest of the weekend ahead. It was the little moments like this that you always loved the most, sure, dating Rita meant lots of lavish dates and extravagant experiences, and you definitely adored those too. You couldn’t help but smile at just how eager she was to spoil you, to show you off to the entire world, having you on her arm so everyone would know you were hers. But it was nights like tonight that you got to see the real Rita, the one without a game face on, the one that was just for you. The one that was soft, caring, tender, the one who was so incredibly loving you would never guess that she was the ruthless attorney she was in a court of law.

It was what made you so incredibly head over heels in love with her.

Even if she was a terrible cook.

When the timer went off you reluctantly detangled yourselves from one another, wandering back to the kitchen where you pulled the pan out of the oven while Rita topped up your wine glasses. You prompted her to cover the top with a generous layer of mozzarella and parmesan before popping it back in the oven to broil for five minutes. In the meantime the two of you moved through the kitchen with ease, Rita set the table while you took care of a few more dishes before she grabbed a bagged Caesar salad from the fridge to go along with dinner. She’d finished prepping it right as the timer went off and she turned back to the oven while you moved the salad bowl to the table.

“Uh.. is it supposed to look like this?” She asked and you laughed, having watched her do every single step.

“It’s fine Rita.”

“It’s practically black.” She deadpanned and you crossed the room to see what she was talking about. Somehow, she wasn’t wrong, all along the edges was burnt to an absolute crisp, the entire thing a little bit more than golden brown.

“I guess my timing with the broiling was a little too long.” You winced, “but it’s fine, we can just scrape off the burnt bits.”

“Sweetheart, trust me, this has nothing to do with your timing and everything to do with my completely inadequate cooking skills. If I touch it, it’s inedible.”

“I will be the judge of that.” You replied with a smile, handing her a knife and a spatula while you retrieved the plates from the table to be loaded up.

Rita grimaced slightly as she cut into it, she’d managed to make a lasagna from frozen before and something about the consistency of this just didn’t feel right. But you were standing beside her with a bright smile, and honestly, you’d done a very detailed job of instructing her how to do this, so maybe it was just a fluke, maybe the oven needed an adjustment. So she scooped up portions onto both of the plates and the two of you made your way back to the table.

“Well, cheers. To your first official date night as chef.” You raised your glass and Rita accepted with a bashful smile before taking a sip.

“Promise to love me even when this tastes terrible?”

“You made me scrambled eggs with the shells still in them for our first anniversary, I’m in it for the long run babe.”

Rita chuckled, smiling softly across at you as you both picked up your utensils. You started by picking away at the corner piece, cutting off all the blackened chunks, shooing them off to the side. You were still sure the rest of it was going to taste great, you couldn’t even count the amount of times you’d left something in a pan too long and had to scrape off burnt bits. You’d even done it on grilled cheese sandwiches before, this was no issue to you. You managed to cut your first bite off right as Rita got hers and both of your heads tilted as you processed.

“It’s not bad.” You assured with a smile, “see, I knew you could do it.”

“Darling you don’t have to lie to me, the noodles are back to being crunchy.”

“Only if you eat around the edge, the middle has got to be perfect.”

Rita shot you a look but cut a bite out of the middle of her piece, one that had been closer to the middle of the pan and the moment it was in her mouth she was doing her best not to spit it out. It was soggy, and not in the way lasagna was supposed to be, the meat somehow overcooked and unseasoned while the cheese just made everything seem more mushy. She was surprised she even managed to swallow it before shifting her cutlery back, cutting another piece and raising it up on her fork.

“I thought we were making a pasta dish, not lasagna soup.” She commented, glancing at you as she let it drip off her fork and your nose scrunched, “it’s even still cold in the middle.”

“So we’ll nuke it.” You suggested with a shrug and she laughed.

“Please, I wouldn’t serve this crap to Buchanan.” She smirked and you laughed outwardly, opting to switch to your salad instead, “I’m pretty sure the clients I have locked up eat better than this, let’s just go out.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, “cause I can suffer through one bad meal, we can try again next week?”

“Absolutely not. Though I will be baking your favourite for dessert tomorrow to make up for this.”

“Rita… I guided you through every single step.”

“I told you, I have the opposite of whatever they would call a green thumb when it comes to cooking, it’s never going to happen.” Her hand reached across the table, squeezing at yours, “this belongs in the garbage and I’m fully witting to admit that. Let’s just go to that bistro around the corner.”

“Alright.” You submitted with a smile, “but hey, you tried your best.”

“Did I?” She laughed, standing from the table and pausing to steal a kiss, “thank you for at least having faith in me.”

“Of course.” You smiled, kissing her once more before you both quickly dumped your plates in the garbage and left the dishes for later, collecting your coats and bags.

As it ended up, Rita placed a take out order on your way down to the bistro, after the evening you’d had she wanted nothing more than to be curled up in leggings on the couch with you. You took an extra loop around the block hand in hand so it would be ready right as you got there, happily accepting the bags from the hostess. It was while you were on your way out the door that you ran into Rafael and Lucia coming in,

“I thought you were finally going to teach this one how to cook tonight?” Rafael greeted with a tease and you laughed as Rita groaned.

“I don’t want to hear it Raf.”

“Oh so I guess this turned out about as good as that kraft macaroni in college?” He smirked back and you raised a brow, pulling a laugh from him, “it doesn’t matter how simple, there’s some vendetta out in the universe that simply doesn’t allow her to cook. She didn’t put enough water in when she boiled the pasta, the entire thing was crusted to the bottom of the pot before the timer even managed to get off. And don’t ask me why she thought the cheese powder went in while the pasta cooked.”

“Rafael…” She warned with a glare and you laughed again, squeezing at her hand.

“She did perfectly fine tonight, I think something might just be off with our oven.”

“She’s just trying to not make me feel bad.” Rita nudged at you, “believe me, I will not be cooking again any time soon.”

After a chorus of laughter, you made a quick goodnight and made your way back to the apartment hand in hand.

Rita couldn’t help but smile at the way you seamlessly swapped from cooking mode into take out mode, curling up on the couch with containers of food spread between the two of you changed into comfy clothes. Glasses of wine refilled, good food being eaten, but most importantly time together was all that either of you ever needed. You didn’t care that she could barely boil an egg, you loved her for who she was, and for that she would always love you to the moon and back.

______________

@hbkpop @naturalxselection @mickey-gomez @red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl @svushots @wannabe-fic-reader @whimsicallymad @bumblebear30 @alexbllake @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @dead-of-niight @multifandomlesbianic @alexusonfire @dxtery @momlifebehard @swimmingstudentchaos891 @poisonedcrowns @when-wolves-howl @godard-muse @itisdoctortoyousir @httpjupiterbby @somethingimaginative17 @summergeezburr @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @alcabots @dextur @disneyfan624 @thisisraes @happenstnces @heidss @onmykneesformarvel @prentiss-theorem

[fooliery]

tag dump

[toraashi]

title: some runaway bride type shit (akaashi x reader)

warnings/genre: none lol besides fem reader tho (she’s marrying a guy) fluff

a/n: good afternoon, here’s this that’s been sitting in my brain the last week. enjoy! also I’m still kinda MIA but I wrote this so I thought I’d share. Also it won’t let me add a read more i’m so sorry idk why

She scrutinized her appearance in the mirror, watching as the seamstress behind her adjusted the fit of her ivory dress. The chrome reflected the overhanging lights harshly, blindingly, as if distracting her from the life-changing choice she stood on the precipice of.

The taffeta gown was tight-fitting, decorated gaudily with cheap, salmon-colored flowers sewn shoddily to the material. Shoulders slumped, she let her lashes flutter closed, feeling the weight of the draping falsies again her cheekbones.

“How are you feeling?” Her eyes shot open at the sound, dripping with sweetness as she caught his form in the mirror. A crisp white button-up adorned his chest, his navy tie adding a spark of color to the otherwise monochrome getup.

“Keiji,” His name fell from her lips in a pleasant sigh, lips quirking into a forlorn smile.

“Yes?” His tone held a teasing lilt, but it too cradled melancholia. “Are you nervous?”

“You always see right through me.” Dark shoes melding into the pristine carpet, he took daring steps closer, careful to not interrupt the helper’s delicate work.

“You look lovely.” His comment contorted her face with suspicion.

“You really think so?” Her glum words elicited a restrained nod, but before the room could settle into uncomfortable silence, the seamstress intervened.

“All done, sweetheart. I hope it’s everything you wished for.” Swallowing thickly, the bride nodded, flattening her hands against the snowy material.

“Yes, thank you. Thank you for your help.” The woman smiled faintly, glancing towards the visitor.

“I’ll get going then. Please let me know if you need further assistance.”

“Of course.” The bride’s words were kind but empty, and as soon as the tailor left, her expression crumbled. The dark-haired man rested himself on a stiff table stool, the old wood creaking under his weight. He was barely a foot away, his fingertips itching to slide beneath her jaw, to pick up her face and mood alike. She did the heavy lifting for him, meeting his sapphire hues with utter despair dripping from hers.

“What is it?” Words that were once tentative grew with urgency at her plummeting temperament.

“This dress is horrendous, Keiji. It’s hardly what I’ve dreamed of. Is this really about to be my wedding? Is this the end all be all? If so, why do I feel so much dread?” Sentences and rhetorical questions spilled from her glossed lips frantically, and the craving Akaashi felt to answer them was nearly uncontrollable.

“Is this not what you want? You’ve been with him so long.” He tried to believe his inquisitions were for her own good, but deep down, he knew they stemmed from personal curiosity. They spoke a deep craving, a sort of desperation he’d kept recluse since the engagement. The way she reached for his hands, gripping them like a vice, reciprocated those feelings perfectly. Despite the warmth in his heart and the tingling of his fingertips, his gaze never once parted from hers.

“Keiji, I probably sound insane, but right now, this is the last thing I want in the world. I don’t want this. I never have. I don’t want this dress. I don’t want this venue. I only want one person, and it’s not the man I’m about to marry.” The blue-eyed boy’s throat instantly dried, each thought caught between his heart and brain, his cautious demeanor lost in the riptide.

“Who do you want?” A sardonic chuckle ripped from her throat, and his heart leaped in return, rattling against the brittle cage of bone and regret he trapped it in.

“Don’t you know? I’ve never felt more at home around anyone else.” The tears sparkling her eyes counteracted the bitter bite to her tone. “I’ve never regretted anything more than this engagement, and now I’m trapped in it, Keiji. I only want you. I have for years. I only realized it recently. But now it’s too late.” Her fingertips tightened against his, relaying eons of pain and sorrow that he empathized with all too well. In response, Akaashi, her dearest friend, did what he knew best.

Running his thumbs over her skin, the boy flashed her his softest smile, reassuring every bone in her body of his perpetuity. Words brimming with reluctance and acceptance filled the air between them.

“I’ve known, I’ve always known, but this is the path you’ve chosen. Everything will work out, and I’ll always be by your side.” Waterfalls tumbled over pinkened cheeks, soiling the facade of her makeup.

“So you don’t love me back?” The tears splashed against her dress at the world-shattering words, hiccups bubbling from her throat in a way that had Akaashi’s arms around her in seconds, tight and intimate. He cooed tenderly, mindful of the intricate twists of her hair.

“I-” A hesitation. He wasn’t sure how his admission would affect their relationship thus forward, especially following her wedding. Nevertheless, he gave in, vowing to let this moment be the last. “I do. I always have.” She peeked up from her cocoon in his chest, water constellating dripping lashes like stars. Akaashi cupped her cheek, gaze thick with suppressed longing. “I always will.”

“Then let’s leave.”

....

“W-what?” Her voice was thriving with spontaneous decision and confidence, leaving him bewildered and flustered.

“I’m serious.”

“Y/N, you have a crowd of people and a groom waiting for you to walk down the aisle in 5 minutes!”Thoughts in a frenzy, he could barely contain himself once she interrupted.

“I don’t want this. I never have. I want a life with you. No one understands me like you. No one understands you like me. I’ve been an idiot for almost throwing that away, and I want to try again. A life with you is all I want if you’ll have me.” The impulsive desire in her voice was nearing ridiculousness, but after years of memories with her, he could see her sincerity and felt himself complying all too easily.

“Are you sure? You’ll be giving everything up.” Any tension building in her body melted at his statement, a delirious smile curling her lips.

“I won’t be.” He soaked in everything she was at those words, the knowing glimmer in her eye, the cherry of her cheeks, the quaking of her hands in his, the warmth of her face under his palm, and in a heartbeat, he nodded, pulling her to her feet and across the room.

“My car is out back. We’ll have to cross people to get there.” His voice shook, but despite his nervosity, he was reaching for her bag and belongings, eager to escape their predicament, to usher her out the door and to the future he’d only seen in dreams.

“Wait.” A cold fear shuddered down his spine at the singular word, turning to watch her remove the garish diamond from her ring finger, placing it decisively on the wooden credenza against the wall. The anxiety vanished at her relaxed grin, and upon sending her a similar charming smile, he was yanking her away from a life wrapped in stiff taffeta and into his yearning arms.

And maybe she was right. That gown hardly suited her. She deserved something she felt beautiful in, and anything less was unacceptable. Akaashi would make sure that happened.

[k0kichiimagines]

kokichis salmon teams...

"i vow to never leave this place! for the good of the world! but you have to stay with me shuichi, we gotta be trapped here together forever, okay?"

crying sobbing screaming

he didn't leave. he did stay there for the rest of his life.

[corkcitylibraries]

Cork in Verse | Ana Spehar interviews Paul Casey

Cork in Verse is a series of interviews by Ana Spehar with Cork Poets. This week Ana interviews Paul Casey.

Image by John Minihan

How often do you write?

I wish I could say every day. In an ideal world I'd write for 4-5 hours per day (including thinking and feeling about writing, the kind of internal writing that happens before the words reach the page), but in reality, my work year is quite demanding and lacks consistency, so any concept of ongoing, regular writing is quite out of reach for me. I write in blasts for most of the year, there's usually something small every day, filling notebooks and android email drafts with ideas, lines and verses. The summer is when I collate all these, when for up to 6-8 weeks I can actually enjoy those 4-5 cherished hours writing whatever new material emerges, as well as editing and polishing unfinished work, researching where I need to (including travel) and hopefully sending new poems off to find new homes.

 Would you look on writing as a kind of spiritual practice?

I would, yes. There's a stillness that comes with it that I love. That's when I'm most alive within myself, when I find parity with the world. It's philosophical too, full of questioning and discovering things about yourself and the world for the first time. There'll always be an infinite list of things to write about - as long as you're open to your own feelings about what you experience in life.

 In your opinion what are the most important elements of a good poem?

Honesty is way up there. Honesty takes real courage - which always has a strong draw and ring about it. A good poem is also allowed to mature, a process I find endlessly frustrating, but on the flip side the poem develops depth and is inevitably more satisfying and multi-layered if you offer it space and allow it to grow. A good poem (for me) offers something new, whether that's perspective, story or emotional recognition. A good poem (again, for me) should sing its own distinct music, should never be overwritten and as Robert Frost says, should "begin in delight and end in wisdom" - that wisdom being made entirely of the poet's own personal discovery.

 Does the creative process of writing affect your mood and how? 

The creation of any art or craft will affect mood. Poetry is both art and craft and its subject matter is endless, as are the moods its subjects evoke. If I write about death I become sad, but I also find solace through what the words themselves bring. If I write about love I feel elated and often confused, or if about injustice, frustrated and helpless. So subject primarily affects mood, as does personal experience of that subject course - however - my mood is mostly affected by how little I get to write during the year - and that usually culminates in a whole lot of exasperation, which in turn is remedied each summer, all going well.

  You are a founder of Ó Bhéal. How did you get the idea to start it and do you find it challenging?

Ó Bhéal was born from a desire to create more choices for poets (at all levels of experience), as well as to make the idea of poetry itself less intimidating, for it to be perceived as a potential benefit for anyone. It is a magical art form which is continually transformative and surprising if engaged with open-heartedly.

With regards to the logistical challenge of starting and maintaining Ó Bhéal, it was always a steep one, although the event regularity eventually remedied most of the difficulties long the way (funding, promotion, etc). In 2013, our seventh year of running 50 events per annum, things had become a little too three-dimensional for me - so in that year I decided to inaugurate our two international competitions (Five Words and Poetry-Film) as well as our end of year Winter Warmer Festival and also took over the reins of The Unfinished Book of Poetry project.  So we were suddenly up to seven-dimensions and I was back in the deep-end for a good while before it all eventually dovetailed into place. In 2013 we also won the Lord Mayor's Arts and Culture Award, a very welcome boost to morale. I must say that if not for the help of our dedicated and talented board of volunteers and emcees (more about them at www.obheal.ie/about) - Ó Bhéal would not amount to half of what it is today. I'm very grateful to them.

 Paul Casey’s second collection Virtual Tides was published by Salmon Poetry in 2016. It followed home more or less (Salmon, 2012) and It’s Not All Bad (Heaventree, 2009). He teaches creative writing, edits the Unfinished Book of Poetry and promotes poetry in his role as director of Ó Bhéal in Cork.

  Something to Give                                         

 I’m an unseen red dari seed

an untouched sunflower seed

around a vibrant heart pumping

vulnerable beats into corrupt atmosphere

 The gold I spin to cast away

the art I build from air

and a full belly, is hardly privileged -

is it a privilege to eat?

 An unheard horse chestnut seed

I hand out leaves in the street, the last

of the year before life finds its beginning

I gift unearthed weeds to well-suited unhappiness

 sprinkle wildflower seeds for my mother

into grooves between the edges

where narrow beds keep grass from concrete

where the lawnmower man can’t go

 Even spread along the haphazard craters

remnants of thistle and groundsel

chickweed, ragwort and dock

I cover them over

 ‘We can’t let the place go to the dogs’

the landlady barked, she says, as her left knee,

the one on the polio side, retreats forty-five degrees

left knuckles whitening over the shillelagh

 We’ll sort that out mom, have you fed the birds today?

We don’t want them stealing all tomorrow’s colours

by Paul Casey

* First published in Reading the Future (Arlen House / Hodges Figgis)

  Passerine   

Of all the tongues I’d rather speak bird

have impulse thought and wish tuned into song

for this I’d give up every poem and word

 The flummoxed squirrels think me all absurd

absorbing chorus verse refrain and idiom

but if I had my way I’d just speak bird

 Throughout evolution this must have occurred

to countless sods unable to belong

who vowed surrender every poem and word

 All felines I encounter over-purr

they trill insist yes something here is wrong

claws waver, cannot enter this lost bird

 I should have sung the circuit I have heard

the notes deep camouflaged inside so long

when in a flash I’d give up every word

 As plumage bursts through skin and senses blur

my intuition feels perfectly strong

Of all the tongues I’d far prefer speak bird

for this I’d give up every poem and word

by Paul Casey

* First published in Days of Clear Light (Salmon Poetry)

[accio-kitty-malfoy]

A Breath of Fresh Hair

Chapter Five: The Day Before

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633025/chapters/59766049

Harry was woken up early that morning. At 07:04 exactly, Ron was shaking his shoulder to wake him.

“I think mum will blow up if you don’t get up soon, mate.” Ron looked just as tired as he felt, but there was an excitement coming off him that felt like static. Harry obliged and dragged himself out of bed, deciding to at least go downstairs and show his face so Molly knew he was there to help if she needed him. There was a continental-style breakfast laid out on the table that people could help themselves to as and when they woke up or were hungry. There was a slight orange sheen that hung over it, telling Harry someone had placed a ‘keep fresh’ charm on the food. There were cold meats, cheeses, smoked salmon and kippers, breads, preserves, honey (from the bees in the garden, Harry hoped), boiled eggs, different kinds of cereals, fruits, natural yoghurt and on hot plates there was everything you would want for a fried breakfast. There were two great vats too; one labelled ‘coffee’ and the other ‘hot water’, with a basket that contained a selection of teas and jugs of different milks including almond milk for Ginny. Harry sighed happily, grabbing a plate and filling it up with all of the delicious things on offer. He made himself a cup of tea and poured Ron a mug of coffee, adding three sugars to it and handing it to him.

“Thanks mate.” He gratefully accepted the coffee before picking up a sausage and devouring it.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked.

“I’ve never been so excited about anything in my whole life, even the Quidditch world cup. I mean, have you met that woman? She’s amazing. And, of course I’m nervous, but not about if I’m making the right choice or not. I just want everything to go right.” Harry set down his plate and cup and embraced his friend.

“It’s going to be awesome. You both deserve it.” Ron hugged him back and when they pulled away from one another, they were both misty eyed. The rest of their breakfast they spent talking about what else needed doing for the wedding and talking to other people as they went in and out of the kitchen for breakfast or more caffeine.

 The sky outside was a soft blue with fluffy clouds drifting lazily by. It was still hot, but the sun had lost some of its intensity, making it a more comfortable heat. Harry wandered around outside, already on his second cup of tea. He helped where he could and fetched sustenance for people when they needed it. His big job was coming the next day; the day of the actual wedding, when he was meant to be styling hair. The ceremony would be starting at two in the afternoon, so he would likely have to have made a start by eight at the latest. He preferred staying up late and sleeping in late, but he knew a couple of days getting up early would be worth it. He was also excited to work alongside Cho. She was going to be doing the makeup for the day and she was absolutely wonderful at it. She specialised in wedding and special events makeup and had travelled around the world, going where her business took her. Harry almost envied her; she was getting to do the thing she loved the most while also getting to see the world. He decided to talk to her about it when he saw her and ask her if there were any pitfalls to it.

 Dean and Seamus had put up temporary huts in the garden. Each one contained a bed, a sofa, a coffee table, coffee and tea making facilities, a mini fridge and a separate room with a toilet, sink and shower. As more and more guests arrived, they were assigned a hut each. When they’d settled themselves into the huts, they all threw themselves into helping or socialising. A lot of them were friends from Hogwarts and it was amazing to be able to catch up with them and see how they’d been doing and what they’d been getting up to since their school days. Harry admitted that he’d been a bit rubbish at keeping in contact with people and vowed to make he saw them more often after the wedding. The huge gardens at The Burrow had almost turned into a temporary village and it was busier than Harry had ever seen it. Molly looked frantically busy, but she also looked delighted. The place was running like a well-oiled machine; albeit a very noisy one, under Molly’s direction. Arthur, Ginny, Charlie and Harry took it upon themselves to keep everyone supplied with refreshments as the day went on.

 Harry almost dropped the tray he was holding when he ran into, almost literally, someone he didn’t expect to see there. Pansy Parkinson was carrying arms full of what looked to be documents towards the house. Her hair was cut into the bob that she’d always had it styled in while they were at Hogwarts and she was wearing a simple but expensive looking while blouse and black pencil skirt. She was wearing an almost burgundy lipstick that contrasted wonderfully with her pale skin and her lips were drawn into an easy, amused smile.

“Don’t look so startled, Potter. I’m just here to drop these papers off for Hermione and pick some other ones up off her. You do remember that we work together, right?” Harry nodded and pulled himself back together.

“Yeah, of course I do. I just didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Right. Well, I guess I do look a bit out of place, don’t I? I’ve just come from the office, you see. I suppose I don’t really fit in with the décor around here.” Harry expected to see a smirk on her face when she was talking about The Burrow, but it wasn’t there. Instead she had an almost wistful look in her eyes. “It looks wonderful. I can’t wait to see what it looks like tomorrow at the actual wedding when everything’s finished.” Harry felt shock run through him again. He hadn’t expected Pansy to be invited to the wedding, but he didn’t really know why. He supposed that he’d never really thought of Pansy and Hermione as friends, but simply as work colleagues. Though, when he thought back he realised that Hermione talked about Pansy a lot, and she’d often spent time with her after work; either finishing things off that they’d not gotten done during working hours, or simply going out for a glass of wine with her.

“I look forward to seeing you then.” Harry said after he’d recovered. “Do you want some help with those documents. You look like you’ve got your hands full.”

“No, I’ll be fine, thank you. This really isn’t that much compared to what I’m usually lugging around the office. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sure my plus one is looking forward to seeing you too” She smiled at him and walked off to deliver the papers to Hermione, leaving Harry wondering who she was planning on bringing, and why said person would be so happy to see him. He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

 Lunch was laid out in a similar way to breakfast, but instead of being served in the kitchen, it was laid out on tables outside. The tables were almost bowing under the weight of twenty different kinds of sandwiches, pork pies, sausage rolls, quiches, more cuts of cold meats, a huge salad that had been prepared fresh from the garden, dips, crisps, more fruit, cakes and biscuits. Arthur had also prepared a variety of different juices. While they were eating, Harry decided to speak to Dean and Seamus about their business. The idea that Ginny had planted in his head the day before had been growing, and he’d been thinking more and more about it. When he asked how they’d known how to run a business, they laughed.

“We had no idea how to set up or run a business and, truth be told, we’re still learning. We actually have a lot of help from Blaise. He’s what you call an ‘invisible’ partner. That means that he helps us run the business and does all the business-y side of things, but it’s still ours and it’s only our names that are associated with it. That’s what he does for a living: helps people like us that have something that we want to, and can, make a living out of and helps realise that dream. He has a few people who work with him now doing the same thing, but we were one of his first projects.” Harry listened to what Seamus was saying, realising that if he had help like they did, that perhaps he could make this idea that he had a reality.

“We can pass you his business address so you can owl him, if you like?” Dean asked, and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, that would be cool. I can always chat to him and see where it goes.” The other men nodded, and Dean wrote the address down for him. Harry folded it up and put in the pockets of his shorts, thanking them.

“You should do it, you know Harry.” Neville commented, biting into an egg and cress sandwich. He chewed and swallowed before adding “It would be good for you too. You could rent a place in London to work out of and live at Grimmauld. I’d be happy to work on the garden with you, and I’m sure these guys- “He gestured towards Dean and Seamus. “-Would be happy to help you fix it up, and you’d have loads of volunteers to help clean and decorate.” Dean and Seamus nodded in agreement and Harry couldn’t believe how much sense it all made. It was like the idea had always been inside him, but he needed Neville to say it for him to realise.

“Maybe after the wedding I’ll start thinking about it. I’ll go to the house to see how much work need doing.”

“One of us can come with you to make a list of any building work that might need doing.” Dean offered. They sat and chatted for a while longer, the idea taking root even more in Harry’s mind and becoming something that he though might actually be achievable.

 The rest of the day saw Harry helping when and where he could and there was another buffet put out in the evening for all of the guests. All of the work that could be done that day had been done by then and everyone say around outside, talking and unwinding after the long day. Harry was reminded once again how lucky he was to have such an amazing adoptive family and group of friends. They’d all worked tirelessly throughout the day to make sure that Ron and Hermione’s wedding the day after would be perfect. He looked around at everyone laughing and nattering about anything and everything and felt like he well and truly belonged. He was safe and happy here, but he also couldn’t wait to see what came next. He was looking forward to the wedding the day after, he was looking forward to the birth of Bill and Fleur’s baby, he was looking forward to seeing what the tiny seed of an idea about the salon would grow into with his friends’ and family’s help.

“Hey Harry.” Ginny plopped down next to him, offering him a drink which he accepted.

“Hey Gin, how are you?” He gave them a quick side hug; he felt like he hadn’t seen them all day amidst the chaos.

“Good. A bit better than yesterday. I’m a little bit less worried about seeing Luna. I got a letter from her today.” Ginny passed the letter to Harry.

 ‘Ginny,

I’m so looking forward to seeing you at the wedding. I can’t wait to see your new hair! I bet Harry did a fabulous job on it. I must remember to ask him to trim mine when I see him. I think it’s a fantastic idea for him so set up his own salon. You’re always full of good ideas; always have been.

 Percy can suck a branch if he thinks he’s going to upset you while I’m there. I’ll hex his balls off and make him wear them as earrings. Please don’t let jerks like that stop you from living authentically. You deserve to be happy and I will do anything and everything in my power to help you.

 Sorry I couldn’t be there sooner, I love my job at The Quibbler but it’s so hard to be able to take time off. Tomas is taking over the fort tomorrow and the day after, but I had to be here to set everything up and make sure everything would run smoothly while I was away. I’m sure he’ll manage though, he’s a good lad.

 Anyway, I’m sorry this letter is so short, but I have to get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow!

 Yours,

 L x’

 Harry finished reading the letter and Ginny sat almost nervously next to him as he did. He smiled.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Gin. I can almost feel her feelings for you coming off this piece of paper. Ginny smiled.

“Are you sure? I’m just so scared it’s wishful thinking.” Harry nodded.

“There’s only one way to find out, right? And what’s a more romantic setting than a wedding?” Ginny groaned, pushing him.

“Oi! Don’t break the best man.” Charlie quipped as he walked over to them.

“Sorry, Charles.” Ginny retorted, earning a hair ruffle from the older Weasley. The three of them sat drinking and chatting for a while. Harry had never spent much time around Charlie when he was younger, but the more he got to know him, the more he realised what a down to earth, pleasant person he was. He showed Harry and Ginny his new tattoo. It was of an origami dragon that slowly folded its wings in and out. The lines were so precise that it amazed Harry, and Ginny asked where he’d had it done.

“A new shop opened up called Boot and Bones. Terry and Susan from Hogwarts while you were there opened it up and their work is fantastic.” Ginny looked like they were mentally taking note, and Harry suspected it wouldn’t be long before they got one too.

 Evening rolled into night and the day’s hard work began taking its toll on people. One by one the group thinned out as they returned to their huts or to the house to get some sleep before the next day. Harry decided to take a shower before going to bed to wash the day off himself. On the way into the house he saw Hermione and he remembered the words that Pansy had said.

“Hey, who’s Pansy bringing tomorrow?” He asked, trying to sound as innocent as he could.

“You’ll see tomorrow, but when you do, please behave yourself. She asked me and Ron first and we agreed that it was alright. Please bear that in mind.” Hermione’s words made Harry even more curious, but he dropped the subject. He gave Hermione a gigantic hug and told her that he loved her and that he would see her in the morning before making his way to the bathroom to shower. The water felt good on his skin; cool and refreshing. He melted into his bed as soon as he got in it. Molly had changed his sheets and it was one feeling he would never get tired of. He thought about living on his own and knew that he’d miss all of the creature comforts that he got to experience living with the Weasleys. He knew that he would find it hard at first not having them around; he’d never lived on his own before. He drifted off to sleep thinking about Gimmauld and how he could decorate it to make it look more like it belonged to him, and what he would ask Neville to do with the garden, and what his Salon might look like, if he got round to putting his plan into action. Blaise’s address laid folded up on his desk.

[marquis-teren-kiden]

“My First and My Last...”

March 19th

The Eye; Nishan 5:42 a.m.

    The craggy surface of the cavern which forms the lids of this most sacred destination within the Nishan Marche used to cut the bottoms of my feet. Despite having been raised on outdoor activities with my family, I'd never once thought to do so unfettered by propper footwear. In the Federation, however, we Reqs are expected always to be tempering our bodies. Against heat. Against. Against loss of one or sense or another. Always.

    So it is that I am able to endure the frigid waters casting their mists out along these bitter stones. It's bracing in a way which more than meets my every expectation. The deep sea blue waters below, however, are no doubt far more potent with respect to their bite.

    This doesn't stop me from free diving from several hundred feet above to meet my fate below; with remarkably little water rising left to rise and fall in my wake. For many, it's an inconveivable place to being one's wedding day. Many, however, do not know what lies beneath these hidden waters. Many never will. But, my heart - constructed as it is from dust and shards of fire and blood - will not permit me to attend the matters of this most precious of days without beginning here.

    Circumstances permitting, I visit this sacred space once per week. Sometimes more. Rarely less. Like salmon, I am drawn from the warmth of my bed and the Lovers I share it with, always to return to the Eye, and onward into the Gateway.

    The Gateway is the memorial for those who perished during the Fall of Lordaeron, after the Scourge had turned our kin into their mindless fodder. Now, when any citizen of the Federation perishes, their bodies are burned on a pyre, and their funerary ashes are turned into these... statues. Rememberences of those who have come and gone before.

    Visiting any loved one within The Gateway is a surreal experience. One must bring their own air supply. In my case, Lycan presciently elected to deposit a water breathing potion with my belongings before we'd left yesterday evening. Of course he did. Know one knows me better, or knew better the need I would feel to return to the genesis of my life as a Nishanian.

    So many innocent men, women and children lost in the wake of the Scourge. Nishanians who's sins at the time were largely having gone to care for the ill and to fend off the unfettered undead they could not have imagined were once more distant loved ones. Thousands of my people's lives were stolen for the sin of attempting to 'save' the souls of their Forsaken kin. Our trusting children chief among them.

    Arising from those first few experiences, the phrase, 'If it turns, it burns.' was coined. No matter what a person's rank. No matter how dear he or she may have been. If a Nishanian is turned into one of the Undead, they are immolated. Their souls freed, and their ashes used to construct their funerary statue here in the Gateway.

    Among the thousands here are the ashes of my first friend within Nishan. My first hug. My first kiss. My first explorations through the world of physical intimacy. My first wife: Elif Nishan.

    *Good morning, my Love.* I don't know if her spirit has ever found it's rest. I was too nascent in my craft to search for it, and by now it has far from flown. *You once said to me, that I must never forget how much I love you...*

     It's a bittersweet memory that takes root in my heart and soul as I coil around her with my arms and legs; just as I had when we would entwine atop our mattresses to discuss the worries of the day. *You said that it would be the one sin you could never forgive me for.* Throughout most of Azeroth, there's an expectation that at least the majority of mated pairs will consist of two individuals. It's a little different in my homeland. Polyamory is as common as remaining uncommitted entirely. Certainly among we nobles, a second wife taken for political reasons is not uncommon. Not that I'd ever intended to participate in such an act when I held the most cherished love I'd ever known already. *Far be it from me, that I should ever forget you, or the love that we have known. That day will never come.*

    The stone statue towering above us belongs to Elif's Father, my predecessor as the Marquis of Nishan. Sitting here, I hold all that remains of his daughter dearly as I continue offering my heart and soul to her with unfettered honesty. *As you learned previously, Lycan and I eloped last year. But, tonight, we are going to--* The thougth makes me laugh. She'd been so adamant about our ceremony being a perfectly Nishanian affair with not one word or hair out of place whatsoever for my person. Yet, already I know, I'd have bollocksed this second sojourn. *--we are going to acquiesce to the will of the people and formalize our vows here in the land of your ancestors, and our legacy.*

    Our legacy. Once lost to us, our children survived the callous murder she had suffered at the hands of Baron Lapte Manowar. Nearly twenty years later, his own Son, Hamid, returned them to me. To us. *--I want you to know that we will help them to heal from their ordeals. I. Lycan. Adilynia.*

    It occurs to me that I should have brought Adilynia here before today. Introduced her to my sweet Elif. Sweet, strong, maddeningly stubborn Elif. *I think you will like her very much once the two of you have met. She's shown great care and consideration for Annest and respect to Methuselah, though he frightens her senseless and has for some time. She's shown a great deal of maternal instinct as well toward Eirlya and Taj; though clearly she has yet to discern how a Light-Wielder might be of any aid to either of them. Her heart will be in it. I've no doubt of it.*

The most difficult part of this rather one-sided conversation is now at hand. *We're...we're going to marry Adilynia this evening as well, my Darling. I pray you are moved to offer your blessing upon our union. I will never forget my love for you. Nor will it ever diminish. I only hope you understand that I must continue to love or wither. I am choosing life. I am choosing love. And I am choosing Adilynia.*

    I feel the power of the potion beginning to fail. I need to take my leave, but not before I set my request before Elif's memory. *Please, permit me this. Permit me the Love of my first and my last wife as I rebuild the life we once dreamed of with another.*

[airyravenmaid]

Lightning Never Strikes Twice

Well, I fuckin’ did it. After much convincing from a certain Lightis server I joined like last month, I finally decided to post this and the other thing I wrote. However, to clear up any confusion, I must let you all know that though NoctLight obviously happens in my Versus XV AU, dem nerds were in no way love at first sight (which doesn’t even exist anyways lol). In fact, things didn’t start picking up until like super late Chapter 5, then went from there (for better and worse; this is centered around XV’s storyline after all XD), but this takes place during the beginning of Chapter 3 where Light first joins the team, so blah.

But, okay, since that’s finally out of the way, here’s where it all began for this Wonderland of a little sub-universe I created from two FF games I so happen to enjoy combined together. I can only hope you guys like this piece too, and I can very highly consider publishing the other thing I wrote. Happy reading; have lots of fun doing so! 💘

“A prince? You’re asking me to help escort… a prince.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say ‘escort’. What I’m asking you to do is more to accompany him and his retinue until they reach Altissia.”

“Why me of all people? And if they’ve been gone for a while, don’t you think they’re fine on their own?”

“Believe me, I know they are. But after… recent events here in Insomnia, there’s no such thing as being too careful.” Out came a peach colored folder full of photos and official documents, all on her and basic history she was sure a certain ‘new world creation phenomenon’ had preserved and written in for public records even in its neighboring dimension. No other explanation served, so she continued to listen intently with reluctance swallowed. “Says here you’ve had quite a bit of military history as the sergeant of something called the ‘Guardian Corps’?”

“Correct. Since my teenage years.”

“And your superior officer was a man named Amodar?”

“Lieutenant Amodar. That’s right.”

“I see. Keep in mind, I wouldn’t hire just any old nobody off the streets to do the job. Looking it over very carefully a few times, someone with your experience looks to be the right fit. Question is, can you actually do it?”

“Doesn’t matter if someone can or can’t. Some things in life you just do.”

Taking that as a firm agreement, the man known infamously as “The Immortal” closed the folder of the former soldier’s documents and officially sealed her new mission. With everything said that needed to be, directions to the next train stopping near her destination in Duscae, and a formal salute, she was off carrying the needed profiles of the four men she was to meet. He himself at the time needed to leave for a checkpoint in a place known as “Hammerhead”, so when her part of the deal was to come, she’d be ready as she ever would for it.

Or so Lightning so wanted to believe. Truth of the matter was, this new mission she sorely hoped would be her absolute final one was the dead last thing on her mind. From the whole Purge travesty with the long-abolished Sanctum that inadvertently turned her into a “dreaded” l’Cie to waking up from a crystal slumber after five whole centuries only to have thirteen days total to save her loved ones and others from impending doom, to say she was sick and tired of fighting for her life was an unfunny understatement.

But, the forces of fate she lived to fight were, as usual, on the opposing side. Because there she found herself; slumped against the window of her train seat wearing the outfit she’d long dubbed the “Heartstealer” from her first times wearing it, even further away from her new home with the loved ones she once again had to leave behind for the time being. Promises made to come back after her “short trip” she vowed to keep at all costs. And no spoiled little prince or his merry band of bodyguards was going to get in the way of her own decisions.

“Next stop, Alstor!” the conductor announced, the train pulling up at the closest station to where Lightning was asked it go. It’d still be a walk away from the actual spot, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t manage.

‘Where did Cor tell me to go again?’ Lightning wondered in her thoughts, looking at the specific directions given. ‘The “Coernix Station”? Doesn’t sound like much of a waiting area.’

Looking around her while figuring out which way to go after what, Lightning seemed to truly take in how alien the place felt to her. It wasn’t at all like anything she’d experienced years ago back on Cocoon, or even the short time she spent journeying in Nova Chrysalia. No, the Duscae region itself had more of a… retro, much simpler feeling to it. But, whatever it looked like, she had more important things to do than sightsee a place she never intended on seeing again for the rest of her life after she was done.

“Still seems like quite a walk,” Lightning commented, glancing up at the frontmost direction to see no leads on the station. “Best take a shortcut so nobody shows up to a missing recruit. What’s…? ‘Alstor Slough’, huh? I’ll just cut through that.”

Rolling up her navigating directions, Lightning took a turn that led her right along a path going through a grassy area full of pinkish wooden plants growing out from the bristled plains. So long as she stayed on that one path and went the right way, nothing could go wrong for the armed former soldier. Staying on guard was second nature to her, so any mysterious creatures lurking around would have to deal with her first and foremost.

And as if taking heed of a secret cue, the first unlucky volunteers caught sight of her and stepped forward. Well, Lightning wouldn’t say so much stepped as she would a group of pale, sickly-looking mutant wolf-like creatures with teeth sharper than her own blade charging her way.

“Your funeral, not mine,” Lightning stated, unsheathing Blazefire Saber from the case strapped to her body. In the blink of an eye, the gunblade unfolded itself into its sword form, giving its owner the okay to run at the first of the strange creatures to cut right through it.

Lightning didn’t have any sort of clue what she was fighting, but she cared just as little at the same time. The wolf-like mutants in spite of their ferocious appearances didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight either, considering how easily the woman was cutting through them like a hot knife against cold butter. One tried so foolishly to take her down from behind, only to be silenced by Lightning whipping around and firing a strategic bullet out of her weapon’s giant pistol mode before it unfolded back into a blade to effortlessly take down its brethren.

With one remaining in sight, the beast lunged to try and take a fatal bite of her. Instead of any sort of flesh or muscle, however, it stopped rigged in its tracks when it received a unpleasant mouthful of sword cutting right through the back of its head. Lightning ripped her weapon from the creature, giving it one more cautious slash to ensure it’d truly died. Now surrounded by lifeless carcasses of the pack, Lightning folded Blazefire Saber back into a gun and resheathed it, walking along her way as if uninterrupted.

“Not much of a fight,” she commented, brushing herself free of dust or dirt. “Here’s to hoping the other creatures here are smarter than them.”

Throughout the rest of her trek, Lightning only somewhat got her wish. As she’d consciously expected, more of the same beast tried to make a meal of her, but she valiantly cut her path open again going through each one. By her arrival even closer to her goal than before, Lightning was looking rather scuffed up. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as fights she’d been more used to, but there was still hoping the Coernix Station had some refreshments to give her more of a boost.

‘Here we are,’ Lightning thought, walking uphill and crossing over to the actual rest area across the road. Her stomach growled a few more steps in, the woman knowing better than to ignore hunger and risk collapsing in the most unorthodox way possible. “Let’s see what’s at that ‘Crow’s Nest’ place.”

“Welcome, Miss!” a man she assumed to be the diner’s cook greeted her once she sat down at the bar. “What can I get for ya today?”

Lightning looked up at the menu and its three most prominent choices being promoted. Fries and salmon anybody with a brain could recognize, but the beverage and names of all the choices were absolutely alien to her. “Are you… ‘Kenny’?”

“Who, me? No! The food here’s just named after our mascot, Kenny Crow! I’m sure you’ve heard of him, haven’t you?”

“Kenny who?”

“Oh. A foreigner, are ya? That’s okay, everyone has their first time to the Crow’s Nest at one point! What would you like?”

“A plate of ‘Kenny’s fries’ will do. And a bottle of… Jetty’s? Do you have a mascot named Jetty too?”

“Nah, that’s just the name of Kenny Crow’s trademark mineral water! It’s good, you wanna try some?”

“Sure. A bottle of that too’s good.”

“Comin’ right up!”

As good as the salmon looked, Lightning only had so much Gil on her to spend at the moment, so spending 1,400 of it on a plate of cooked fish wasn’t a smart option. Instead, she paid the 200 Gil owed for her fries and water and waited patiently until both showed up. Since she was able to enjoy the meal, now all that remained for Lightning was for the “royal retinue” to show up and pick her up for the mission. Joy, she thought without a hint of it in her head. Travelling with strangers she didn’t know or care about in an unfamiliar world. Etro knows what could await her then.

The fries digesting in her gut replenished plenty of energy lost fighting monsters in the infested plains, and the quarter-consumed Jetty’s water bottle helped a plenty. While checking out the “Shop & Café” next door to see if she needed anything from it, Lightning saw an unfamiliar, sleek fancy black car parked in front of where others like it would sit to refill its tank. She would have thought nothing of it, were it not for the four young gentlemen in black clothing close to her (physical; how old she really was as a result of her awakening from stasis was something between only her and her loved ones back home) age range inadvertently proving themselves as the owners of said vehicle.

From the shop window, Lightning picked up on all four faces, opening the documenting profiles she was given on one of the small white tables in the shop. Looking between the clear headshots and the men outside, she had a match. Before being given the chance to pack the documents up, she heard a voice belonging to one of them speak up and get closer to her proximity.

“—Here we are! Finally meeting ex-sergeant Lightning Farron!” the rather perky voice chirped, its source a scrawny spiky-haired, blue-eyed blond with youthful freckles and a weird section of flannel hanging out from under his top. “Man, I’d bet he’s this tall, burly, really hairy fella— probably something like Gladio, but even more gruff than that!” He took a look into the shop she was in, catching the sight of her but not yet fully processing reality. “Yeah, and he’s gotta be really strong with his petite figure; soft, luscious lips pink like the rose, breathtakingly alluring blue eyes, wavy pink hair, and—!” The wide-eyed look on his face quickly informed Lightning the realization struck him quicker than her moniker. “—Is actually an extremely beautiful woman?!”

“Run that by me again?” Lightning questioned, folding her arms and cocking her head to the side.

“Err, uhhh… I—”

Another man stepped in before the first could snap fully out of his stupor, this one taller and more mature looking with slicked up auburn hair and viridescent eyes able to properly see through oval-shaped glasses. He saw her too, only holding up information given to him prior to see if it was right. “‘Lightning Farron’?”

“Who wants to know?” Lightning asked, ever-rigid towards the man with the befittingly fancy accent.

“Ignis S. Scientia, advisor to the Prince of Lucis. I trust you’ve been informed of us by a one Cor Leonis?”

Okay, at least she could be sure they were definitely the right people, now by physical appearance and name in the profiles. “Oh. So, you have to be the ‘royal retinue’ I’ve been put on the escort mission with. In that case, yes.” Lightning gave Ignis a formal salute of honor to show courtesy, not minding his stoic expression not moving an inch from its default form. She ignored the blond examining her at several angles, dismissive of whatever was going on in his head. “Former Sergeant Lightning Farron, at your service, Ignis Scientia. A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Farron.” Ignis on the other hand gave her a formal half-bow, already on her civil side with his polite first impression.

“Uhhh… huh,” the blond one stuttered, unable to fully digest Lightning’s physical form as if she were some ethereal goddess walking among the mortal realm.

“...Can I help you?” Lightning half-hissed, already running low on patience for that one’s brainless nonsense.

“Don’t mind Prompto, he gets easily befuddled meeting new young women,” Ignis warned her. “Come with me. You might as well make yourself more acquainted with the other two while you’re at it.”

Following Ignis with the one named Prompto not too far behind, Lightning saw only one of the missing two men she had yet to meet. This one she figured to be the tallest, the incredibly muscular build pairing well with the gruff long dark chestnut mullet hairstyle and noticeable scar running down one of his rust-colored eyes. Well put together as he was, Lightning remained unaffected by physical appearance alone, though her hands now rested on her hips with the profiles in her grasp rather than be folded in her stubborn arms.

“And who’s this here, Iggy? Don’t think I’ve ever seen this one around these parts before,” the tall and muscular one mentioned, his tone giving off hints of a flirty vibe.

“Our newest recruit for the journey’s course,” Ignis answered.

“Really? You’re Sergeant Farron, huh?” Now his eyes were on her, almost as carefully as Prompto’s were but a lot less clumsy.

“That’s me.” Lightning skimmed through the files until she found a match on the burly one’s features. “‘Gladiolus Amicitia’, I assume?”

“King’s Shield in the flesh. But, calling me just ‘Gladio’ is perfectly fine. Gotta say, wasn’t expecting such a pretty face like yours to go with a name like ‘Lightning’.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Nah. Cor recruited you for a reason, so you’ve gotta have lots of fighting spirit in ya. Otherwise, the Marshal wouldn’t have even considered you.”

“Experience, I’ve got. ‘Fighting spirit’, on the other hand, is what I’m not allowed to get rid of nowadays.” Lightning unveiled Blazefire Saber, flicking her wrist forward to unfold it into its sword form to both the awe of Gladio and Prompto, and the intrigue of Ignis. “So long as I’ve got this by my side, I’m stuck in the battlefield once again.”

“Some sword you got there, Sarge. A little small if you ask me, though.”

“And why’s it have a trigger?” Prompto wondered, running a finger over the rim until Lightning pulled her gunblade away from his reach. “Just for decor?”

“No, that’s real. When I don’t wanna use the blade, I just shoot my targets.”

Prompto let out a loud gasp of excitement at the revelation, starry eyes now glued to Blazefire Saber. “You use guns too?! Ooh, ooh! Show us a demonstration?! Pleeeease?”

“Rather not. Wouldn’t wanna cause a scene at such a little rest stop.” She folded it back and put it away while Prompto’s face fell disappointed. “It’ll be worth the wait once we get moving.”

“That is, as soon as His Highness comes back. He should be just about finishing up his talk with the Crow’s Nest owner momentarily,” Ignis guessed. “Seems a friend of ours required our assistance, and Noct’s asking for directions on where to find the missing dog tags.”

“As in the one for pets, or the one for soldiers?”

“The second one,” Gladio answered. “I’m sure you’ve had some when you were in the line of duty where you’re from, right?”

Before Lightning could answer the question, footsteps approached the group. Turning her head, she’d found the last of the retinue; the Lucian Prince himself. His photo seemed to add up with his appearance; messily spiked hair blacker than the night sky, eyes a shade of navy blue as modest as his current expression. For royalty, Lightning figured, he certainly didn’t dress the part. How he acted, however, was beyond her knowledge and concern for the time being.

“Hi there,” he greeted her politely. “Guys, who’s this?”

“This, Noctis, would be the team’s latest addition that Cor informed us of,” Ignis told him, the prince’s face shifting to a noticeable disappointment at the news. “I’d like for you to meet former Sergeant Lightning Farron.”

“Oh. So this is who’s joining the team the rest of the way? That’s… great.” You’d have to be deaf to not hear the blatant malcontent in Noctis’ tone, especially so when he looked at Lightning.

“I know, right?!” Prompto cheered, he himself elated at the woman’s presence in stark contrast to his standoffish best friend. “Dude! Her weapon? It’s a gun and a sword all in one! It’s like the 2-in-1 of weapons! You should see it!”

Noctis didn’t seem to entirely believe such a silly claim, merely accepting it as the other boy’s typical excitement at whatever. “Thanks, Prompto, but I’ll have to pass. Alright, and you’re ‘Sergeant Farron’, then?”

“The one and only.” Lightning pulled out His Highness’ profile, looking over his name with a raised pink brow. “‘Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV’. Who has their home as their middle name? You don’t see my name being ‘Lightning Bodhum Farron’ or anything like that.” Then again, Fang and Vanille were two exceptions to that, but even that was based more on Oerban culture than nobility.

“You didn’t exactly see me asking for your help either, and yet here we are.”

“Wow, Princess, mind telling me what just crawled up your ass and died?” Gladio scolded, as taken aback as the other two by Noctis’ snarky comment towards the equivalent of a new guest.

“Recently? A lot of things including my home town,” Noctis bit back. “Look, it’s nothing personal towards someone I don’t even know, but you heard Cor; he didn’t have a reason to worry about us anymore.”

“Him not being worried does not equate to rejecting another pair of hands to ease what lies ahead for us,” Ignis reminded him. “Someone with Lightning’s militant combat experience wouldn’t be anything except highly beneficial.”

“Yeah, so quit acting like a rude little punk in front of the new girl and suck it up,” Gladio growled. “‘Cause from here on out, you’re stuck with her.”

“It’s not my problem on whether or not he wants my help,” Lightning clarified to the elder two of the group, her frigid teal eyes making full contact with Noctis’ cooled midnight ones. “Frankly, Your Highness, you’re not the only one who wishes I wasn’t here right now. But, I still have a mission to complete. So, here’s the deal: we go to Altissia and back to settle what you need to, then after, we part ways forever as if you never even met me. Sound fair?”

“Fine by me,” Noctis agreed, shrugging indifferently.

“It’s fine by me too. Now, quit complaining.”

“Great start,” Gladio sighed sarcastically, not looking forward to any possible future discord between one of his best friends and the ex-soldier.

Lightning waved off Noctis getting inside the car, turning her attention to Prompto still inspecting her like she was some sort of murder suspect. “Okay, what’s with you? If you’re not gonna actually ask me something, then take a picture. It’ll last longer.” FLASH! “...Were you seriously waiting for me to say that just to do it for real?”

“Not exactly, but why pass up such a nice photo op anyways?” Prompto wondered, looking at the new photo of the scowling, but otherwise elegant-looking Lightning taken on his camera. “Wow! You are really photogenic! Of course, I wasn’t exactly expecting you to be a girl in the first place, but either way, it’s a good kind of surprise.”

“You didn’t know I was a girl? How?”

“Well, when I heard we’re joining up with someone named ‘Lightning’, I kinda figured you were… a guy? You don’t hear about a lot of girls called that, anyways.” Prompto had his hands up, Lightning’s scowl giving him the impression she was going to react poorly if he didn’t think his words through well enough. “It’s not a bad thing! Boy or girl, we’re really happy to have you aboard!”

“Most of us, anyways,” Ignis corrected, glancing over at Noctis’ apathetic expression as the prince could only be thinking of how much he didn’t want the extra help from anybody.

“Tomato, tomahto, Igster! Give Noct a little time and he might consider lightning up.”

“Prompto, we haven’t even gotten back on the road yet,” Gladio warned with disdain. “Don’t make Lightning already regret having to travel with us.”

‘Wouldn’t say he’s made me do something that’s already there,’ Lightning scoffed internally, flipping to the last profile. “‘Prompto Argentum’, huh?”

“You got it! My name can mean ‘quicksilver’ if you put it together. So, you could say I’m about as fast as ‘lightning’ myself. Coincidence?”

“More like a cruel irony.” Lightning rolled her eyes openly at Prompto’s flirty comment, but the boy didn’t let up all that much.

“Oooh, so witteh. I can tell you’re gonna do just fine with us!”

The honk of the Regalia’s horn courtesy of Ignis in the driver’s seat cut their conversation even shorter, Prompto hopping into the middle seat next to Gladio in the back. Lightning seemed lost in thought while ensuring everything was with her and accounted for. Once she left that station with the other four, Etro knew how long it’d be until she was finally free to go and be back alongside her actual loved ones she’d worked so hard to have a happy ending with after 500 years worth of utter Hell. That in itself would have to wait; for now, there was one last important task she had to put up with and earn herself a peaceful start over for real.

“Come on, new girl! We don’t wanna hit traffic!” Prompto called out to her, waving his hand high to get her attention.

“Be right there,” Lightning sighed, getting into the leftmost backseat behind the driver’s one and buckling in next to Prompto. “So, what’s our first order of business?”

“We’re meeting up with my sister, Iris, in Lestallum,” Gladio said. “She thankfully made it out okay from the attack on Insomnia.”

“But, she didn’t say to come right away! Just when we’re able to get there,” Prompto stated as the Regalia finally drove away from the Alstor Coernix Station and onto the road. “And word on the street is there’s a Chocobo Ranch not too far away from here! Wouldn’t hurt to check that out, would it?”

“There’s no time for that. Lestallum first, chocobos later,” Gladio retorted, far too concerned about his younger sister to agree to partake in a casual visit just yet.

“Maybe we’ll be able to do both,” Noctis suggested. “But whatever’s the most possible right now is what’s first.”

“Never thought visiting chocobos would be one of the choices,” Lightning commented, already dreading where things possibly might go if they stop at the ranch despite she herself liking the creatures just fine.

“There’s never a wrong time to ride some chocobos. Can’t really blame Prompto for wanting to see the ranch; the big things are pretty cute!” That had to have been the first time Lightning heard Noctis’ voice go up an octave from excitement in her presence, something that surely wouldn’t last next time he was to have an actual conversation with her. “I kinda hope we do stop there first just to see and maybe ride a few.”

‘Nice to see our priorities are where they should be,’ Lightning sarcastically commented in her mind, leaning with her elbow propped on the roofless side window as the road wind blew parts of her roseate hair backwards. “Day one…”

Staring out from the car at her surroundings, Lightning recognized the Alstor Slough, having been the only area she’d actually been in on the current route. Aside from that, no place she’d been in long enough compared to the world she was in now. It went without saying that Lightning was definitely not in Nova Chrysalia (or the long-felled Cocoon, but at least her birthplace didn’t have anything comparable to Eos like her closest bet with the former world’s Gothic city of Luxerion) anymore.

If it was going to be a while before she contacted the others at home outside of digital communication, then it was about time the ex-Guardian Corps soldier made do until her awaited mission completion arrived to finally let her rest. In no way did she approve of it in the first place, but as she was used to: mandatory duty was mandatory duty, regardless of her exact feelings on the matter.

[thisislizheather]

April Activities 2021

The major news of the month? I can’t believe I get to be fully vaccinated. It’s hard to describe how incredible it feels but I’m so ready to really start this next phase and I can’t wait for everyone I love to feel this feeling soon. Here’s what went down last month.

Here are my favourite tweets from last month. Also, I’ve decided to compile the best tweets list every two weeks rather than only once a month mostly because I love re-reading them and want that sort of joy in my life twice a month, not just once.

I did Nathan’s podcast and we talked about Rogers, sex robots & god only knows what else.

Two new nail polishes that I bought and love: English Lavender by butter and Cold Brew Crew by essie. Beautiful colours.

I’ve made this lamb ragu from Alison Roman twice so far, it’s so luxurious but somehow easy to make. I’ve put it on tagliatelle as well as zucchini noodles and both have been wonderful. Small tip: it does get better after it sits in the fridge for a bit, for some reason. (Also, the recipe doesn’t call for it, but I added basil at the end. I tend to add basil anytime something calls for parsley because it’s just so much more flavourful and fun.)

Above Photo: Alison Roman’s lamb ragu

I want to buy new underwear and I’m looking for any suggestions that aren’t Victoria’s Secret, Aerie or The Gap. I might just bite the bullet and try the ones from Blush (love love love the models they use).

I tried the strawberry short cake soft serve from Milk Bar and it was heavenly. The soft serve is even better than the strawberry cake (although the cookie crumbles within the cake always make my knees weak). In fact, I’ve yet to try a Milk Bar soft serve that I didn’t love (their vegan apple pie soft serve was out of this world), should I have been buying their pints this whole time? Yes.

I gave a chance to Ouai’s Air Dry Foam and it didn’t impress me or anyone else for that matter, so I guess I’ll just stick with the Wave Spray instead.

The rain boots that I bought a few years ago from Winners have disintegrated and I’m in search of new ones, but please don’t recommend Hunter ones. I hate Hunter. Open to any other suggestions!

Influenced by a TikTok video, I bought Falscara and holy shit. I know I promise this a lot, but I’m going to do a video on it so you can see how good a product it is. So many videos are coming, I vow.

There milk chocolate coconut almonds from CVS are UNHOLY.

I tried a sample of Glamglow’s Glowstarter moisturizer and was pleasantly surprised at how it really does give you a pleasant glow. What’s that about.

It’s uncivil how expensive body suit/swimwear hangers are. Who is this benefiting? I just want to hang my delicate bodysuits and carry on with my day.

Trader Joe’s has started selling their own vodka and I’m hoping they’ll start to sell it in New York soon. Seems weird that they don’t already.

I tried a small sample of Charlotte Tilbury’s Magic Elixir and discovered that the true magic behind the elixir is how she got anyone to believe that it does anything at all. Makeup products truly enrage me at times.

Nathan and I went to a movie theatre and it was everything I wanted it to be and more. We saw Godzilla vs. Kong and I found myself beaming through every inane scene. Perfect movie to see after a year of no theatres. Would I ever watch it again? Good lord no.

I bought a lotion bar from Gift Box on Broadway in Astoria and I love it. I think I’d use it more if it were slightly smaller and more manageable, but I love it nonetheless.

I tried Rao’s spaghetti and it was incredible, so now I’m forced to seek out their other types of pasta. Such a quality pasta.

I ate at The Pineapple Club and the basil fried rice and frozen pina coladas were both outrageously good.

I bought this bag from Zara and I’m honestly nervous to even wear it out for some weird reason. Like, am I the person who would have a bag like this? Do I want to be that person? Am I feeling this way because of having nowhere to go for so long? Have I always been this fearful? Some of these questions I shouldn’t answer, I realize.

Just bought these shoes in tan and I think I have my life all figured out now. Now if I can just leave the house wearing said shoes and holding said bag.

Speaking of shoes, I truly can’t decide if I love or loathe these slippers.

Last shoe thing: head over HEELS (not sorry) in love with these feet hugging sandals. Should’ve bought four more pairs.

I made these chocolate banana muffins and they were great but the real standout is the recipe at the bottom for the salted honey butter. Christ, you should make that butter.

I perused Molly Baz’s new cookbook and it’s a big one. Some standout recipes: The Big Italian salad, a dilly horseradish cream sauce for shrimp, and of course her caesar salad recipe.

I never thought I’d be the type of person to buy fake plants, but this one is so lifelike and pretty that I had to get it. Plus it’s perfect for the top of a bookshelf.

Above Photo: Fake plant from Target

It’s ramp season and I couldn’t be happier about it, you’ll hear more about my ramp creations next month.

I watched This is a Robbery on Netflix and don’t waste your time. Yes, it’s an interesting story, but save yourself a few hours and go read this instead.

I’m watching The Nanny and loving it. I’ve only ever watched a few episodes growing up, and I thought I would hate it because of how much everyone makes fun of Fran’s voice but her voice is fine! It’s wild that anyone ever said it was annoying. Also, the theme song is catchy as hell.

I rewatched Speed and it’s, of course, still great. What can’t Keanu do.

I watched the 90s movie The Crush and it’s really weird that movies like that would never have a chance being made today.

I’m all caught up on Riverdale now and… it’s hard to remember when it was really good. Maybe it was all Skeet Ulrich? Was that the main draw in my mind? I can see that making sense. In any case, it’s taken a turn.

There’s something so inviting about having good washroom rugs, I just got these soft-as-hell Threshold ones and I’ll never buy another brand again.

I visited the midtown Ideal Cheese Shop (been meaning to forever) and it’s such a great spot for NYC delicacies as well as, obviously, cheese. They had pre-packed bacon from Peter Luger and salmon from Daniel Boulud.

Things are already changing fast with new restrictions loosing in NYC, but did you know you can rent out a bar for an hour?

I tried the breakfast Beyond Meat sausage patties and surprise, surprise, they’re great. There’s nothing this company can do wrong. I’m becoming suspicious.

I got drinks and some small bites at Bar Dalia in Astoria and what a sweet little place! Would go again.

I finally got my hands on the kitchen-scented mini candles from Trader Joe’s (the scents are lemongrass, tomato leaf, fresh mint). They fill me with joy, unfortunately. I also got their grapefruit scented body butter, which goes on very smoothly but I’ve noticed it has a scent that’s slightly off-putting over time. I will not dwell on that fact further.

Had no idea that Banza made a pizza crust but I tried it and it’s wonderful.

I love seeing what promotional giveaways are planned for the upcoming baseball season but since we’re technically still in a pandemic, the Mets are only releasing what the promotions are each month (makes sense). So I’ve bookmarked the page to go look at on the first of each month.

I don’t eat a ton of fast food, but I’m sorry, some of these are genius ideas.

I’ll regret it if I don’t buy a box of these, right?

I know that it’s common to read an article about something and feel “that’s me!” but this one really resonates with me: “There’s a Name for the Blah You’re Feeling: It’s Called Languishing.”

The best brand at Target: A New Day.

Love and fully agree with all of this woman’s questions about things that don’t make sense.

I was walking past a Home Depot in Queens and the smell of the sandwiches at Rocco’s was heavenly. I had just eaten, otherwise I would have leaped into line. Must remember to get a Philly cheese steak here next time. The Yelp reviews are calling me.

I bought this earring organizer from The Container Store and it’s perfect. Fully recommend. I also finally got a purse organizer and some shoe boxes that make me feel like I might be a successful woman in her prime.

Above Photo: Earring Stand from The Container Store

Above Photo: Left: purse storage holder, Right: shoe storage boxes, Not Shown: me, opening & closing my closet door ten times to bask in my new found organizational skills

I had no idea Zara had a home section. I wish I didn’t have this knowledge, but now that I do, you must too. Literally ALL of these glasses are gorgeous. Tempted to go smash each glass in my kitchen cupboard right this instant.

This Artist Faked Being a Billionaire to Photograph New York City's Best Views - such a great idea, such great photos. How was it not me who came up with this?

Some more spring recipes I’m dying to make:

Ramp & Ricotta Tart

Grilled Asparagus Caesar Salad

Lemon Poppy Seed Cake

Scallop Risotto with Lemon & Sweet Peas

Grilled Caprese Skewers with Halloumi and Sourdough

Some things that I’m looking forward to this month: the new/final season of Shrill comes out this week (!), I might be going to a Mets game (!!), dying to eat at Under The Volcano, really want to visit the new Dippin' Dots store, I’ve been craving a good club sandwich for months so I might try to get brunch at Mark’s Off Madison, I know it might be early but I can’t wait to go tan on Governors Island soon, and at some point I’d really love to take one of these pasta cooking classes.

Above Photo: The club sandwich at Mark’s Off Madison, photo courtesy of Front of House

If you’ve got any interest in reading last month’s roundup, you can see what went down in March over here.

[peachmused]

READ ON AO3 // SUMMARY // CHAPTER ONE / CHAPTER TWO / CHAPTER THREE / CHAPTER FOUR / CHAPTER FIVE / CHAPTER SIX

even when he isn't there, he refuses to leave her [thoughts].

To my shock, the school day progressed rather uneventfully. It became a habit to turn my back in and on my way to each class to make sure he wasn’t approaching me, but there was no use. The Grizzly was out of sight, even as I strolled home.

For the umpteenth time, my eyes dropped down to my wrist. Violent behavior was inexcusable. I had every right to start a ruckus and have the head of the board involved. In fact, I should have told my grandfather right there and then, constructing a plan to have my adversary expelled. Still, the boy’s words—though laughable—resonated through my mind.

“Acting like you’re all high and mighty… Using your so-called ‘influence’... I hate girls like you the most.”

I halted in my tracks. An evening zephyr rustled the ends of my hair as I looked towards the sky.

If it was Ran in my place, would she have been able to twist the situation in her favor so quickly? A student without any connections or wealth to tie them to the school, would they have been able to be as fearless as I?

Perhaps his feelings of hatred were justified. With the right case, I could easily get my peers thrown out of the school. In contrast, scholarship students would have to face the challenges head-on, as the upper crust was notorious for not taking them seriously. Whereas other students could not, I was given the blessing of being able to move forward and do as I’d wished. The same obstacles were twice as heavy on their shoulders… yet I’d never stopped to think about it until after he’d spat those bitter words.

Only moments later, I shook my head frantically. Yuma was another case altogether. He was a bully, someone who used his strength to oppress others. While he despised the manipulation of others through one’s status or connections, his disposition was heavily ironic. He, himself, was a manipulator; the only difference was that while some utilized coin or relations, he used his brawns. Thus, I was justified in thwarting him through “easier” means.

It only made sense to rat him out.

And yet, a part of me yearned to prove him wrong. To battle him head-on, without getting higher-ups involved. To show him that I wasn’t a privileged crybaby, and that I could still silence him with my own power. My pride was at stake, and I vowed to do everything to preserve it.

My grandparents’ warm welcomes assured me that I was safe for the next few hours. Despite it being late at night, they were up and talkative, detailing the events that had occurred while I was gone. I knew in an instant from the bags under my grandmother’s eyes that they’d waited for me.

“Here, eat more; you’ve been busy working all day!”

“How was your first day? Grandma prepared this just for you.”

Having someone look forward to my arrival was a complete first for me. Maybe it was that fact, or the result of a very frustrating first day, that made my chest ache. When tears welled up in my eyes, I hurriedly brushed them away with my sleeve—quick enough for my grandparents’ not to notice.

It took every last bit of energy to hold back a gush of sobs; I inwardly admonished myself for my immaturity, and took the first opportunity to leave the room and wash up for bed.

Ice cold water rinsed away the tears, and a face mask momentarily veiled the stresses of the day. If only my grandparents were aware of just how much had happened over the past few days.

The moment I’d crashed onto my comforter, my eyes fluttered shut. Exhaustion gradually rose from my shoulders as the world around me became a nest of darkness. For once that night, the despicable face of Mukami Yuma disappeared into the crevices of my mind, the promise of sweet dreams replacing the tartness of our meeting. I eventually fell asleep, unsuspecting of the hard labor that was to come.

I awoke to the sound of my grandfather’s voice, urging me to get dressed for work. My alarms hadn’t yet gone off; rather, my phone read an unfortunate 8:00 a.m.—an hour earlier than expected. Before I knew it, my limbs began moving towards the bathroom, splashes of icy water forcing my eyes to open past one centimeter. When I turned to change into my usual wear, I caught sight of a salmon-colored kimono with white accents.

I recognized the fabric as the same ones the servers at Kanna were wearing. Why the uniform was draped across my bed was still a mystery.

“Grandpa, what’s this for?” I ultimately inquired, lifting the smooth material in my hands. His face lit up at the sight of it, and he quickly explained that I would be doing some “hands-on” work today. Confusion lined my forehead, but before I could question further, I was hastened back into my room.

Deciding not to argue, I slipped into the fabric. After struggling with tying the kimono, I eventually left the finishing touches to Grandma (a self-proclaimed expert in the area). She whirled me around to show the final product, and I found myself staring at my reflection in awe.

With parted lips, I analyzed the fitted attire from multiple directions. Even with minimal makeup and a simple do, I appeared more elegant than usual. It was definitely because of my grandmother’s magic handiwork that I was able to look like an actual worker at the inn, and not some clown amongst the crowd.

“You look beautiful!” she affirmed, beaming at me.

A rush of color entered my cheeks. “That’s only because of your expertise, Grandma.”

“Is it alright if I steal our granddaughter for a bit?”

We turned to look at Grandpa, who was waiting patiently by the door.

Taking this as my cue to depart, I grabbed my things and followed him outside. Though the inn wasn’t too far from home, Grandpa decided that driving there would be best, considering my current attire. On the way there, I forgot to ask why I was dressed in such a manner. Instead, the harmonies of retro singers and my Grandpa’s humming kept me distracted.

Soon enough, I was lead into the homely establishment. I got a few compliments on my way in, which only heightened my self-consciousness. I click-clacked behind Grandpa, my eyebrow raising as we passed the management office.

“Um, Grandpa,” I began, tapping him on the shoulder, “We just passed by the office.”

We stopped in our tracks. He turned to explain that today, I would be working as a server, not an overseer. Instinctively, I found myself against the idea—after all, I was here to study management, not physical labor.

As if reading my thoughts, my grandfather placed his hand on my shoulder and assured me to trust his decision. Managing starts with familiarizing yourself with the work of those you’re overseeing, he explained. Without experiencing life in the inn, how was I to make the right decisions for the business?

After hearing him out, the reluctance slowly receded. Rather than being a detached director, he wanted me to become someone who understood the establishment from inside and out. It only made sense that through serving guests, I would gain a broader, more valuable perspective.

My management studies would, of course, continue. I was to work as a server only thrice a week, which was more than enough time to acclimate myself to my surroundings.

All in all, I put my faith in his suggestion. Once he was sure of that, he handed me off to Watanabe Junko, the chief of staff. With an unbending back and sprucely folded hands, the middle-aged woman wore an unreadable expression, her eyes glued to me. We stood in silence for a minute after Grandpa left us, before I shifted under her gaze.

“Uh, nice to meet you.” I finally uttered, bowing deeply. Upon introducing myself, the woman crisply stated that yes, she was already aware of who I was. I was certain she was slicing me into pieces with her unrelenting stare, until her features relaxed into a smile.

“Good manners… a nice start.”

I was left bewildered as she guided me to the outside hall, handing me a rag and pail. Since it was my first day, they wouldn’t bombard me with directly serving the guests. Instead, my job was to scrub the floors of the long porches, then shadow and assist experienced workers.

Junko was alarmingly complaisant, a stark contrast from the perception I had of her. She didn’t expect my work to be perfect, and reassured me that as long as I didn’t end up offending any of the guests, I would be doing just fine. 

As expected of me, I went right to work. I placed my sandals to the side, curled up my sleeves, and drenched the rag in the water. Racing down the wooden planks on all fours was, to the say the least, unanticipated. But despite the eventual soreness that entered my arms, zipping down the porches was a welcome distraction from my troubles. Even acting as a messenger between the kitchen and the countless servers left me with an extra bounce in my step.

For now, I’d forgotten all about the quarrelsome grizzly bear. That in itself was enough to transform the labor into a gift, an unlikely miracle amongst all the chaos.

By three, I neared the end of my shift, but felt inclined to join the others for a lunch break. We formed a circle in the break room, seated around a table on the floor. Junko had ordered in and was now hovering over the delivery men as they placed lunch sets before us. We thanked her for the meal in unison, digging in when appropriate.

Just as I dug into the rolled egg and broiled salmon, I was swamped with questions. Questions about my parents, about how long I’d intern here, about my age, about my school life. I hurriedly swallowed down the bits of food in my mouth, and explained each and every detail. Well, minus the lousy bits.

Their excitement came as quite the surprise; never before had anyone been so curious about me. It was heartwarming to feel like I mattered somewhere, that I was being taken in with open arms. The servers knew each other in great detail, treating their co-workers like family. To think that I was now joining that snug atmosphere… I couldn’t contain my joy.

If I were to continue working here, it wouldn’t be bad at all, I reflected. Even if Ryoutei besieged me with hardships, I knew that I could always return to a place of compassion and understanding.

Kanna Inn.

My new sanctuary.

Alas, the solace did not linger for long.

The walk to school was soiled by the idea of having to face him again. Even the spring blooms could not divert my attention from the brusque brunet.

Clouds wafted through the darkening sky, a reminder to pick up the pace. The bag draped over my shoulder carried the assignments I’d managed to finish after returning home from work, along with the burdensome memory of using the satchel as an excuse to avoid a sworn enemy.

Lest I returned to that pathetic, cowardly state, I would have to make my next moves as wisely as possible. Avoiding the problem was not an answer. Rather, I needed to use the leverage I had against him to the best of my ability, enough to make him back off.

Fixing the ends of my hair, I squared my shoulders, and nodded to myself. He couldn’t bother me anymore. I would be all right. Everything was going to be fine.

“Good morning! ” a sing-songy voice belted, making me tilt my head towards the sound. It was none other than Ran, sporting a million-dollar smile and waved hair bunches.  

I returned the greeting with one of my own. “You look good,” I remarked. This was exactly what she wanted to hear, as she broke into a fit of giggles.

“I really tried!” she admitted, “I’m trying to land a boyfriend.”

Blinking hard, I had a moment of pause. “Aren’t you sixteen?”

“Yeah, but the guys in our class aren’t all that bad. I thought they’d be pretentious, but they’re actually kind of nice!” Ran clasped her hands together, cheeks rosy with life. “And the seniors are even cooler!”

If only she knew what I had to deal with on my first day…

“It’s all a lie,” I stated candidly. There was no way to soften the blow; although Yuma was one bad apple, that didn’t mean that the other guys here were any better. If people as put-together as Ruki or as dazzling as Kou associated themselves with the brute, then I was sure that every man in Ryoutei would be a disappointment.

Ran, however, hadn’t expected me to put a damper on her search for love. Her lips scrunched into a pout, and her hands lowered in distraught.

I was unrelenting. “Boys are all the same. They’re just wild animals waiting to come out!”

An image of a roaring Grizzly clouded my mind, and I waved it away in a frenzy. I probably seemed mad to the girl walking beside me, but it was what I had to do to prevent Yuma from overcrowding my brain… again.

Her crestfallen expression said it all—I’d crushed her hopes about landing a high school sweetheart. I was only half-regretting it.

“Ahem. So, Ran, you live near here?”

Directing the conversation elsewhere momentarily eased my senses. Our discussion became a lengthy one; I dove into a rant of how my Literature teacher assigned three chapters already, and Ran offered both consolation and advice. When I asked about her first day, it was obvious that she’d landed the crème de la crème of professors. I was happy that she was content with her classes, but volunteered to tutor her nonetheless. Once the chatter deviated into makeup, fashion trends, and a viral video, the word “boy” was a thing of the past.

“Ah, my class is this way,” she informed, just as we stepped onto the second floor.

I let out a small sigh, but quickly hid it with a smile. “Right. See you later, then!”

As soon as her bubbly form was no longer visible, my lips drooped. Every passing second was one lined with tension. I looked over my shoulder, nearly flinching any time a bob of brown hair passed mine.

Clearing my throat, I slapped my cheeks lightly—a silent warning to come back to my senses.

You have the ammunition you need. If he even tries to touch you, just shoot.

That was what I reassured myself, over, and over, and over, and over again. But memories were a powerful thing; the burning sensation of my wrists threatened to return, the recollection of his brute force replaying in my mind.

Even though I had what I needed to defend myself, the effect which he had on me still left me wary. I tried my best to conceal the feeling, tilting my chin upwards as I marched to class.

Lo and behold, once I turned the corner, a giant figure made itself apparent. There he was: back arched against the window across the hall, one hand in his pocket and the other browsing through his phone. He leaned back, slipping fingers through his disheveled fringe.

As he did so, I did what every normal person would do. Freeze in place, hold my breath, and hope my uniform blended in with the walls.

And, of course, be subsequently given the cold shoulder.

When his honey orbs travelled to meet mine, they merely slid back to the device in his hand. Rather than holding a staring contest, Yuma found his phone to be a much more interesting pastime.

I released my breath with a shudder, baffled and almost… frustrated.

Why, after all the hours he’d spent racking my brain, was he not giving me an ounce of acknowledgement? After the torment he’d put me through… why was he totally, wholly ignoring me?

With cautious steps, I turned to slip inside the classroom, only to not be dragged back out. Instead, I found my place effortlessly, dropping my things down as people chattered away. Some talked about the weather, some about the homework. Some even chased each other around the room, teasing and joking away.

It was peaceful.

Gallingly so.

Rather than finding ease in the regularity of it all, why was my chest wringing? Why, when I should be celebrating, was heat rising up my neck? Why was it hard to swallow, and why couldn’t I tear my eyes away from my desk?

What was wrong with me today?

Yuma’s uncharacteristic actions should have been a relief. Yet here I was, let down by a confrontation that never happened. The very same confrontation I’d been agonizing over and avoiding all day.

Not having to face him at all was, to any ordinary person, a miracle. But the shoulders I once held highly now felt heavier, an unwelcome development. I hadn’t realized at the time, but I was a woman of immense pride; his backing out meant that I’d only wasted the past hours brooding over someone as detestable as him.

If the boy had already moved past the incident… then what did that leave me with?

A wounded pride. That, and the humiliating realization that I was nothing more than a flea to him. An insect, one that buzzes and whizzes away by itself. One that’s easily forgotten, even after having struggled with it for a night.

My conjecture was only proven when clunky steps neared my seat, and coolly stopped before their own desk. I braced for a tap on the shoulder, a kick on the back—anything to refute my assumptions. Instead, the class unfolded as it should, boredom instead of bickering being the highlight of the lecture.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. With the way things were now, I didn’t have the chance to prove myself. To clear up the presumption that I was just another, filthy rich snob, one who ridiculed others from atop an imaginary perch. Likewise, I needed to make it clear that I—unlike him—was not a manipulator. I refused to do what he expected of me, lest I become another version of the Grizzly.

Be that as it may, I was at a momentary loss as to how to move forward. His giving up so easily meant there was nothing more for me to do, nothing more to show.

Without saying a word, Yuma had single-handedly plummeted my ego to the ground. If this was all part of his plan, then regrettably, it was working.

I grappled against jumbled emotions, some of uncertainty, some of chagrin. Dissatisfaction grew with each tick of the clock. Notes became scribbles, which then turned into aimless tapping. I bit down the urge to twist back behind me and hurl a fist at the boy’s forehead.

Why throw a big fit over our quarrel at the grocer’s, I wondered, then ignore me days after?

Whether he was looking at my slumped back or not, I could not tell. Whether or not his thoughts were plagued by the sight of me—just as mine were of him—I had no clue. A part of me hoped I was gnawing at the back of his mind. But with the comfortable silence emanating from behind me, I was becoming convinced that he was just as unconcerned as he sounded. Just the realization left my blood boiling, the wheels in my mind turning.

Whatever the truth was, I refused to turn back and search in those overbearing, coppery eyes for answers.

The fact of the matter was simple: knowingly or not, he’d wounded my pride. And if Yuma was going to act as if he hadn’t been harassing me all of yesterday, I could not idly stand by to watch.

The initial shock had frazzled my nerves, but as the hour passed, my shrewdness began to resurface.

Unlike his usual mannerisms, Yuma was playing with intricacy. But Grizzly’s weren’t built for intricacy. They were hot-blooded creatures, far more brash  yet simpleminded than they let on. Not only had I overheard some interesting information about Yuma’s studentship, I had the brains to utilize it well. It was only a matter of time before I had him spun around my finger… through my own efforts.

The bell sounded, a cue for students to flood out of the lecture room. Leisurely, Yuma rose from his seat and departed as well. All the while, my vengeful stare never left his tangled mop of hair. My fingers crumpled the edges of my notebook, and I slowly got to my feet.

That’s right, don’t get discouraged. I reassured myself, breathing out once his form finally disappeared beyond the halls. He may have hurt you for a moment… But don’t forget, you are the next-in-line of Kanna Inn, a future businesswoman. The cards are still in your hands.

Play them right, and I would be able to shut him up for good. I’d wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, and finish this once and for all. Perhaps then my days at Ryoutei would return to what they should have been all along: exciting, fulfilling, and bright. Anything far from what I was enduring now.

As for now, I’d have to race to my next class, and hope that I’d take better notes than the inky disaster in my hands.

“This is a reminder that club sign-ups will take place during the free period. Please head to the schoolyard for the club forms and information desks.”

One week later, a fateful announcement sounded throughout the school’s PA system. Seven days had passed without any disruptions. Yuma continued to brush by me without a word, but now, I’d accustomed myself to it. We returned to being strangers, only interacting to pass papers down the row.

And while revenge was always at the back of my mind, I was so preoccupied with school and work that his lack of presence was, frankly, a relief. He’d been oddly quiet these days; there were no incidents involving him, despite the rumors that flew about during my first week. I’d become convinced he was now merely a shell of a person, a fake walking about the halls.

Because of his uncharacteristic display, I managed to somewhat salvage my reputation; since people noticed I was no longer hanging around the delinquent, I became more approachable. A few friends were made along the way, but none became as special as a certain junior and the girls back at Kanna Inn.

Overall, my life was settling from unpredictable to mundane. Things started to look up only recently, when we were informed that we would start attending our elective classes today. I’d chosen to take up Marketing and Home Economics, one for the professional aspect, and one for the heck of it. Shockingly, Home Economics was one of the more popular classes; the seats filled out within hours. I’d yet to figure out why, but I had a feeling it might have had to do with the free food.

Nevertheless, the electives I’d chosen seemed to click with me, and I was looking forward to something other than analyzing Romeo and Juliet, Newton’s Laws, and why Yuma was now as cold as my sink water.

The Club Sign-Up was another thing to look forward to. I didn’t particularly want to join any clubs, as they ran earlier than school hours, but it would be fun to walk between the stands and see what Ryoutei had to offer. From Fashion Design to The-Do-Nothing Club, I’d seen some pretty unique listings earlier. If my hunch was correct, then the stands for these clubs would be just as, if not even more, entertaining.

A familiar bell chimed, snapping me from my thoughts. I joined the mob of students pouring out of the classroom and into the schoolyard, my head occasionally bobbing above the crowd in search of a friend. Soon enough, Ran joined my side, her restlessness apparent.

We wove our way out of the cluster and towards the very back of the expanse, where fewer students lingered around each desk. The first to catch Ran’s eye was Journalism Club, which showcased their best work and cameras. Without much choice but little qualms, I was dragged along to each stand. Each club quickly learned that Ran’s chatter and questions were like a sweetly-decorated Pandora’s Box: enticing, but once opened, endless.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to play football. I don’t know much about it, but I like kicking. But then again, the uniforms might not be warm enough for winter. Do you play in winter? Or do you have different uniforms when it gets cold? Oh—did you paint that football yourself?”

Giggling at her enthusiasm, I remained to the side as we drifted to and from each presentation.

“Hey… why does it feel like I’m the only one talking?” she finally questioned, placing a gentle hand on my forearm, “Don’t you want to join a club?”

I chewed on my lip for a moment. While I didn’t want to burst her enthusiasm, it was only right for me to tell the truth. “Honestly? I... don’t really think it’s worth it.”

The look on her face made me quickly add, “For me, at least! I don’t think clubs are going to help me career-wise, so...” When her downcast expression persisted, I zipped my mouth shut, wondering if bringing her the painted football would raise her spirits.

Her next words took me by surprise. “I get what you mean but… won’t you regret it?”

With parted lips, I could only stare right back at her. Was she getting philosophical on me?

“I know I would. High school is all about experiencing what you can, and not joining a club means you’d be passing up those precious memories,” she pointed out, “But of course, it’s up to you! I know you have big dreams of becoming a manager, and I don’t want you to be more stressed than you have to be...”

Features relaxing, I broke into a soft smile. “Ran…”

She really was considerate. I wanted to give her a big squeeze and thank her for her kind words right there and then, but our moment was abruptly interrupted.

“—I’m sorry, did someone say management?”

The two of us turned to meet the gaze of a well-built, young man, his dark hair sticking up characteristically. Though he was near our height (which was, frankly, not very tall), the stranger sported toned muscles and a fitted maroon jersey.

Talk about an eavesdropper. To be fair, we were positioned just beside a stand with the sign, “Varsity Volleyball”, and four students clad in jerseys and shorts.

“We’re actually looking for a manager for the Boys’ Varsity team!” he grinned, nearly blinding me with his pearly whites. “If you’re interested—”

Before I could retort, Ran raised my arm, and exclaimed, “Yep, she’ll do it! She’s great at management.” Seconds later, I swiveled my head towards the girl, aghast and in need of an explanation.

“Oh—well, perfect, thank you!” the muscular boy broke into another smile, and I inwardly cursed him for his classic boy-next-door appearance. It was hard to reject him upfront when he grinned at me with such high hopes. His friendly demeanor, paired with Ran’s insistence, left me with no choice but to accept the form he’d presented.

“Just fill out the application,” he explained, drawing near me to point at certain parts of the form, “And make sure to sign here and here. You can also e-mail it, but just be sure to send it in by Friday.”

Both his and Ran’s expectant gazes followed my every move, so much so that I had to turn away to breathe. Obviously, Ran was convinced that this club was made for me. She went on about how talented I was, nudging me ever so often. In the meanwhile, the boy explained that if I was chosen to be their manager, it would only be an hour a day—just before school started.

When I could feel the team members’ eyes fixed upon me, I couldn’t help but think that they were all so expectant for a reason. I concluded that the Boys’ Volleyball Team wasn’t as popular as they would have liked. After all, there weren’t many trophies displayed on the table, and the picture of the “winning team” was of one from the '90s. Certainly not the best first impression.

Guilt-ridden, I could not tear myself away from the silent desperation in their eyes. My instincts overtook me, moving the pencil over the form against my will. My brain screamed against the idea, but my heart had already made other plans.

Inwardly, I yearned to help turn this ragtag group into an efficient lineup, or at least one that left the school better than they’d arrived. There was a secret, undeniable pleasure at the thought of working out their schedules and raising funds. And, as Ran whispered, I’d also get to enjoy a bunch of eye candy throughout the school year.

Not a bad exchange.

Thus, I dove headfirst into a new challenge. The forms were all filled out within minutes, despite my initial doubts. The moment I’d turned the application in, a wave of regret piled upon me; was I really going to be able to handle all of this? It was my last year, yet here I was, piling myself with new undertakings.

In contrast, Ran was over the moon, elated by my decision. Her optimism was contagious; I found myself temporarily sweeping my concerns under the rug.

Being a club manager could be useful for my future endeavors.

With that justification in mind, I followed my companion to the next stall.

Ran’s reassurance never ended, even as she signed up for a spot in the brass band club. I found comfort in her childlike elation, enough to convince myself I’d made the right choice.

Two classes later, yawns and stretches replaced the jokes and laughter from my break period. I had almost been a victim to boredom, until the realization that all that was left was my elective classes dawned upon me. Electives alternated throughout the week, and today, I was going to learn all about Home Economics.

The few bodies seated in the classroom made me acutely aware of the fact that I was early. In any case, I found a spot among the many long tables, presumably for cooking, sewing, and the like. Nestled comfortably in my seat, I scrolled through my phone, unaware of the fact that someone else had joined me at the table.

Only moments later, a rush of students filled the classroom. What was once quiet became a mass of frenzied whispers and giggles, and the occasional snap of a mobile camera.

I finally looked up from my device to find every chair filled by students, a majority of which were twittering girls. They pointed in my direction, and it didn’t take long for me to realize who they were admiring.

Top star Mukami Kou lounged in the chair beside me, arms folded behind his head. I could have sworn that when he smiled at me, a blinding light surrounded him like a halo.

“Hello, again,” he acknowledged, prompting me to return the greeting.

Shutting my phone off, I cleared my throat, and straightened myself out. So he was the reason for the class’s popularity.

“I… didn’t know you liked Home Ec,” I began, struggling to erase the image of a popular idol sewing heart-shaped pillows.

Kou replied coolly, “Free food and an easy A? What’s not to like?”

Well, that was one way to put it. But why, of all people, did the celebrity have to sit beside me? I wasn’t appreciative of the thought of being distracted by his sparkly presence instead of thoroughly enjoying class. But who was to know, maybe the starstruck feelings would fade after working with him.

Just as I opened my mouth to reply, another figure joined us. A dainty blonde greeted Kou casually, stopping before the table. My jaw unhinged at the sight of the familiar face: Yuma’s girlfriend.

The very person I’d hoped I wouldn’t run into. As usual, she radiated kindness, carrying a natural charm that had me avoiding her gaze. However much I tried to hide my face, it wasn’t long before her soft gaze landed on me.

“Oh—hello there!” she leaned towards me in recognition, “We meet again!”

Gingerly, I lowered the phone obscuring a fourth of my face, and nodded slowly. “Ah… from the store, right?” I laughed forcedly. “Nice to meet you…”

After introducing myself, she complimented my name and revealed herself to be Komori Yui, from the other class.

Even her name is pretty…

The girl placed her things beside my seat, settling into the chair as she continued. “I’m sorry for Yuma’s behavior the other day. Really, he’s not always like that. I don’t know what got into him...”

Thankfully, when Yui apologized on Yuma’s behalf, she left out the part where I looked like a wild raccoon wrestling against him. I shook my head, reassuring her that I’d forgotten all about the incident. (That, of course, was the biggest lie of the century.) I also took the time to repeatedly apologize for my appearance that night.

Meanwhile, Kou bent over to raise a brow at the blonde. “What’s this? Something happened with Yuma and I haven’t heard about it?” His catlike grin was enough to convince me he would use our little run-in to blackmail Yuma sometime. I’d definitely have to be on my toes with this Cheshire.

I hastily directed the conversation elsewhere. “Uh, Yuma…” I started, clasping my fingers together, “Are you friends of his?” Though I hated having to be reminded of the brute again, it was imperative that I get some background on my enemy.

Yui was the first to confirm my presumptions. She explained that she’d only met him last year, while Kou had known him for a long, long time. Childhood friends, it seemed. They were like brothers, and never strayed far from one another.

“Well, there’s four of us,” Kou interjected, “Four Mukamis.”

Four?! I marvelled at the very idea, unable to register the fact that Yuma was related to the boys I’d met days prior.

As if reading my mind, he quickly added, “Adopted brothers.”

A huge sigh of relief left me at the clarification. At least now I could rest assured that Yuma’s tendencies were not genetically shared.

Yuma, Kou, and Ruki… But, who was the last?

I didn’t get a chance to ask, as the teacher announced her presence as she strolled into class. We turned away from one another and lay our attention on her instead. Well, except Kou, who was fully absorbed in his phone screen.

Curiosity never once left me, even as I listened to the professor’s life story. After a week of giving and receiving the cold shoulder, I had finally heard something about the infamous Mukami Yuma. A part of me began to wonder what he was up to at this very moment, what electives he’d taken, and if he’d joined any clubs. Although I liked to believe I was only curious because of my plot for revenge, it was mortifying when I looked down to find Yuma’s name accidentally scribbled instead of “Yale”.

Stay out of my head, I commanded, vigorously erasing the markings, or it’s not going to end prettily.

Unfortunately, this would not be the last time his face would cross my mind.

No, this was merely the beginning.

[ A/N ] so happy! everything's been set in place for the next chapter, which will definitely be a ride for these two! i have so much planned, and i'm glad that it's finally starting to play out.

thank you so much for your support so far, it makes me motivated to keep writing. :-) (also: i'll be posting some fic-related content here soon!)

[crimsonxhands-blog]

Task 003 Bloodlines: The Crimson Legacy

“But the hearts of small children are delicate organs. A cruel beginning in this world can twist them into curious shapes. The heart of a hurt child can shrink so that forever afterwards it is hard and pitted as the seed of a peach. Or again, the heart of such a child may fester and swell until it is a misery to carry within the body, easily chafed and hurt by the most ordinary things.”

tw: drugs & drug use (pictured & mentioned), alcohol (pictured & mentioned), guns (pictured & mentioned), violence (pictured & mentioned), neglect (mentioned)

Maverick Crimson & Olive Brady || Fifty-Three & Fifty-Two || Beaufort, South Carolina || Current Location Unknown 

If you read their love story on paper you’d very quickly become a fan of the passion and dedication Maverick and Olive have to each other and their chosen lifestyle. If you were told the fairytale of a couple of primary school sweethearts in a small town in South Carolina, who fell in love and ran away to pursue adventure, how could you not dream of such a love? They were the best of friends growing up, and through high school that translated to truer feelings. They were each others passion, escape, colour in a black and white world. They only wanted each other, their beat up van and the open road.

Now if I told you the story of two parents who neglected their children to the point that they entirely forgot their names. If these two parents in turn even forgot how many children they had. Young but entirely unloving towards the small lives they brought into the world. Feeding their children stolen food and abandoning them for entire nights in the back of a car. What if I told you a story about a couple that had 7 kids over the span of 20 years, and abandoned each at a small house in Muddy Waters to fend for themselves and each other.

Both are true stories about Maverick Crimson and Olive Brady. Having their first child as teenagers they had a dream to travel around America in a van. To make no real home or roots, just them and new experiences everyday. They were addicted to adventure, but that wasn’t the only thing they were addicted too. Alcohol and drugs were as much a lifestyle to them as their van travels. If they weren’t high, or drunk, or some combination of both, they were stealing and lying and betraying. They love each other and their chosen vices, and outside of that they had quickly decided there was not enough room for anyone else. They bought a house in Muddy Waters with some money they’d won in Vegas, and since that day the only time they thought of this home was when they had another kid to drop off.

Lark was left at 5 years old, and then began a habit of leaving their offspring at this place to be forgotten. To unburden themselves and their amazing lifestyle from children and responsibility. This house was where they went to reset, to forget and start fresh on a new chapter. They didn’t hate their children, they simply didn’t love them. And that made leaving them so very easy to do. They don’t know how many kids they’ve left in Muddy Waters, their names or anything about them. Honestly, they’re content on the road. Children were never the future for them.

Lark Crimson || Thirty-Six || Las Vegas, Nevada || Lasted 5 years

The leader of their clan and the first one to be abandoned by Maverick and Olive. He was barely five when his parents left without a word. One night he went to sleep in his bed under the stairs, they were smoking on the back porch talking about all the things they wanted to see one day. Then he woke up the next morning to silence, turns out they’d gone to see those sights without him. Lark got by on the generosity of others, his neighbours coming over every evening to bring him some food, local shop owners giving him some loose change from the tip jar so he could get by. Until he was old enough to start fairing for himself, Lark was taken care of by the community of Muddy Waters and more importantly to him, The Northside Rascals. He grew up dedicated to the gang before he was even a member. He idolised the people that took care of him the way his parents never had. And he vowed to take care of his family and to repay the Rascals with his undying loyalty. Present day, he does just that.

The original child, and the parent to the clan of misfits Muddy Waters now know as the Crimson Seven. Lark has become the loving role model each child that came after him needed. He was the type of brother that would beat the shit out of any kid that teased his sibling even once. And then when the sun went down and everyone went to sleep, he’d go through each room and pull the blanket up to make sure nobody got cold. He’d deny it with his last breath, but he has become their parental figure. Each and every Crimson looks up to their brother, his courage and bravery, his care and loyalty, his sacrifice for all of them.

The softest side you’ll ever seen of Lark Crimson is when he speaks about his little brother Bodhi. It’d been just him and the girls, when that little five month old kid appeared in his life. From the first day he’d spent with Bodhi, Lark knew he was different. He didn’t throw explosive tantrums like Clove, or constantly talk like Finley. No he was…..quiet. Always watching his siblings move around him. Lark took care of Bodhi in a much different fashion than he did the girls, because he knew Bodhi wasn’t going to tell him if something happened. Lark knew the world was cruel and could see from the smile of a young Bodhi, that the boy was going to give his heart to people that were going to hurt him. So he was always checking on Bodhi, always asking if he was okay. Lark sat out the front of Bodhi door for eighteen years, every night, just to hear him play his guitar. To feel some part of his soul. It hurts every fibre of his being when he has to see his brother suffer under the unreciprocated love of their parents. 

Finley Crimson || Thirty || Salmon National Park, Idaho || Lasted 1.5 years

The second child and most wide eyed of them all, Finley arrived at the Crimson household halfway to two, and she found her eight year old brother. The most nurturing of the Crimson Seven, she always has a soft hand and gentle word for each of her siblings. She is a far cry from the violence and fire that Clove spits. In fact if Finley didn’t love her siblings so dearly, she would have taken off to the woods long ago to live her life in a tent by a river. She is known as Lark’s co-parent and the good cop of the two. She is the first with a tissue in hand when someone cries or has a troubling situation. Full of photos to share from their lives together as their own little family, and book quotes that could fill a library in her mind. When her siblings use their fists to fight their battles, Finley is readily there with a first aid kit to back them up. She’s reckless in her own right, but will always look out for her family first.

Finley set the tone for a softer side of the Crimson’s, she encouraged them to not bottle everything up but within the comfort of their home to open up with one another. But god help them all had they let everything turn to fire and anger from when they were young. To be fair not everyone had fully embraced Finley’s attempts to keep them all sane, but most respect her attempts to heal her siblings pain. She sees the pain her parents have left in their absence, she feels it herself. She has told Lark from well ago when they were children, that if she had the choice she’d bring the moon down to crush their parents and give a star to each of the Seven to chase out the dark holes in their hearts. It was up to Finley she’d take all the heavy hearts she sees in the darkened crying corners of their home, and she’d burden them upon herself to see her siblings live a life of love and fullness.

In her loving heart, Finley has always had the softest spot for Bodhi. Not because he’s different from the rest of them, including herself, but because he’s the hardest to read. In all her long speeches over the breakfast table about being open and honest and vulnerable with one another, Bodhi has always been the hardest to crack. She can read every one of her siblings, they’re pain is clear as day to her, even the fakest of Gryff’s smiles. But Bodhi is much quieter than everyone else, he’s a lot more reserved with his pain. He doesn’t fly through the door of the house and yell about how angry or upset he is. He walks in like any other day, and pretends like the world hadn’t crashed around him. Finley, aside from Lark, feels most connected to Bodhi. She sees a lot of her wide eyed hope in her younger brother, and she also sees a lot of stubborn loyalty to people that will continue to hurt him.

Clove Crimson || Twenty-Eight || St. Louis, Missouri || Lasted 3 weeks

If there was a Crimson that everyone knew about, it would third oldest Clove. The sharpest of tongues and knives to match, she is the last sibling you’d want to get on the bad side of. More dangerous than the other six combined, Clove’s first solution is always undoubtedly violence. If it weren’t for her great ability to avoid capture, Clove would most definitely be imprisoned by this point. She has taught ever sibling to both take a punch and throw a harder one. Because Clove believes while she is always willing to murder someone that wrongs her family, they should always be able to fight back in the moment. So while her older siblings may have a more nurturing hand, Clove dishes it out as it is and doesn’t hold back. Whether that be getting into a fight with Van about his blatant disregard for his health and siblings worry for him, or running Sunny’s good for nothing boyfriend over with her car, Clove has no boundaries. And while she is reckless when it comes to the safety and well being of her family, she can be sensible in her individual life.

After twenty-eight years, Clove has still taken the abandonment of her parents perhaps the hardest. While her other siblings, aside from Bodhi, have taken to no longer caring and ridding themselves of worry, Clove harbours a lot of anger. She was abandoned the earliest and nobody mentions that, but she is awfully aware of this fact. She’s hates her parents like she’s never hated anyone before, not only for her own abandonment but for that of her siblings. Especially the likes of Finley and Bodhi, who have the purest hearts the world has ever seen. It’s this kind of anger that has found her knelt over her unconscious mother several times, a knife in hand ready to take her pain away. Or with a fistful of her fathers shirt, slamming him against the wall ready to unload her anger through her fists hitting his face. Lark is always there to pull her away, and Gryff to take her to the bar to keep her away. But that has never stopped the urge or desire of getting on her bike and hunting them down to a far off place where nobody would be there to stop her.

Nobody is immune to Clove’s aggressive outbursts, not even Bodhi. There has been a few times where she has stormed into his room and given him hell. But it has only ever been an uncontrollable outburst of frustration towards his constant attempts to make their parents love him. She knows he deserves more than a life of chasing their love and care, that if he let it go he could have so much more. But Clove doesn’t have the words to say that, the only way she knows how is to yell. But despite their few quarrels, Clove has always looked out for Bodhi. She was the first one to beat up a bunch of high school boys who were giving him a hard time, and she was always the one to drop him off at class in primary school. She had been Bodhi’s protector since he was a kid, and still is. On the day his leg was run over and his life had changed forever, Clove brought him the cane that he still uses to this day. She’s anger and he’s kindness, but they’re strangely good at understanding each other.

Gryff Crimson || Twenty-One || San Francisco, California || Lasted 2 months

Perhaps the craziest of them all Gryff is never seen without a spray paint can in hand and a mischievous grin to match. His laugh is intoxicating and his art is mesmerising. He has the creativity of Finley and the careless attitude of Clove. Gryff contributes to family discussions with misplaced jokes and a humorous approach to sometimes very serious situations. This can annoy the more sensible of the clan, though somehow Gryff has always become a very vital part of any hard time in the Crimson household. He doesn’t nurture like Finley, he distracts. Gryff encourages his siblings to ignore their problems and instead focus on other things, this isn’t the best received advice but it works for some. Gryff is proud to hold the title of longest arrest record among his siblings, getting arrested countless times for vandalism, car theft and break and enter. He’s as fun as the Crimson’s come and he knows it.

Since he was a boy Gryff hasn’t even batted an eyelash at his parents disregard and lack of care for any of the Crimson Seven. He has shown very little care for them when they drop in, and some would even question if he notices their presence at all. Of all the siblings Gryff is the only one that completely ignores the two and is seemingly unaffected by their actions. He’s vocal with his emotions aside from when it comes to his parents. When Maverick and Olive are in question, Gryff paints. A myriad of paintings have been created from their visits, littered around the house. Every drop off that he saw, Gyrff painted and as for those that came before him he created pieces from the stories he’d been told. He doesn’t care about what his parents did or where they are in the world. All he wants to do is create works of art so the Crimson Seven will never forgot how they came together as a family from the harshest of places to the tightest of units.

From the day younger sister Sunny was dropped off, Gryff was moved into Bodhi’s room, and they’ve shared ever since. The two have an unlikely bond, almost polar opposites but the closest of friends. They’ve literally grown up in each others pockets, the space equally their own. They’ve always supported one another in their creative outlets, and their room has quickly become an expression of the two of them combined. Gryff teaches Bodhi how to live life more in the moment and Bodhi is teaching Gryff to slow down before he burns out. They’re strangely good influences on each other. 

Sunny Crimson || Eighteen || Marfa, Texas || Lasted 1 year

There isn’t much to be said about Sunny Crimson, aside from the fact that she is equal part Old Hollywood Glamour and small town grunge. She dances worthy of a spot among ballet royalty, then she’ll get on her skateboard with a cigarette between her lips and take off until the middle of the night. She was either going to be a smaller version of Clove, or move on to become a big star someday. It was clear what her other six siblings would have wanted for her, but somehow Sunny was happy living in a perfect combination of both. Because she wasn’t one or the other, she was a bit of each. If you paid a few minutes attention you’d see that Sunny is a little bit of every sibling that has come before her. She has Lark’s courage, Finley’s drive, Clove’s aggression, Bodhi’s contentedness and Gryff’s way of looking at the world. Maybe that was what maybe Sunny so hard to pin down, she was a mesh of a million different things.

When Sunny arrived at the house, everyone was surprised. It had been four years since Gryff came, they honestly weren’t expecting another one after such a long time. And everyone was only further surprised to learn that Sunny had been with their parents a year already, nobody since Finley had last even more than 5 months. But that didn’t change anything, they still welcomed her with open arms and a loving attitude. They’re having a tougher time with her lately, Sunny taking a more selfish stance than most that had come before her. She’d still do anything for her siblings, she’d walk through hell and fight the devil for each and every one of them. Though she does have a slight tenancy to put her own wants first.

Sunny isn’t as close with Bodhi as most, she finds that she doesn’t understand him. They’re similar in many aspects, they’re both quieter than the rest, both content with a small town life, of never getting out. They’re both at peace with their inevitable future in Muddy Waters and their mediocre lives despite their talents. But what Sunny doesn’t understand is how Bodhi can hold onto such hope and faith in the world after everything that’s happened. She gets it with Finley, because Finley is only doing it for her siblings wanting the greatest opportunities for them. As is Bodhi, but Sunny can’t quiet wrap her head around his dead set attitude on saving people that are beyond help. Sunny feels disconnected from Bodhi, more so than the others. But that has never stopped her from being there, or from him being there for her. From each dance performance she had, or each musical performance he had. It didn’t stop her from sleeping in the hospital when he was in with his knee, or him helping her with her homework when it didn’t quite make sense. They don’t get each other, they’re not close, but their still Crimsons, they still love each other.

Van Crimson || Sixteen || New York City, New York || Lasted 8 months

The youngest and the biggest cause of the arguments inside of the Crimson household, Van has very little care for the world around him. He’s young, already addicted to drugs and a lover of everything frowned upon by the community and more important his siblings. Van is not a bad guy, not in any sense, but it’s a known fact that he follows most in their parents footsteps. He’s chasing the illusive dream, he wants to party, get drunk and high then smash anything and everything he sees. Some of the older siblings will argue that Van is just a teenager and that his actions are due to his young age and careless attitude. Though other siblings, mainly Lark and Clove, will argue that he’s self serving and destructive due to following his own desires and not considering the consequences. Everyone has a different opinion on Van’s lifestyle, and honestly the youngest Crimson couldn’t care less about what any of them said about what he was doing. He has disregarded what they have said to him for so long now that he feels like he has his own separate rule book.

Van doesn’t hate his family, not at all. He simply loves his lifestyle as much as he does them. And it is those similarities to their parents that scare and worry his oldest siblings. Now he doesn’t idolise his parents, he hates them as much as anyone else. But he can’t see the uncanny likeness between himself and them. Van just wants to be a typical guy, he talks about getting out of Muddy Waters and leaving some place far away. Of living the dream as people call it, he talks of forging his own path. Someday he might grow out of it, his siblings would never ask him too, but they like the family together. All they have is each other, and it would appear that Van isn’t as interested in that as everyone else.

Bodhi feels heavily responsible for Van, nobody ever made it a point to say that Bodhi himself needed to look out for Van, he’d simply taken it upon himself. Nowadays the middle child well and truly has his work cut out for him. Van uses his kindness and protective instinct to his advantage. Bodhi will follow his younger brother around to his most criminal acts in hopes that somehow he could stop or help his brother from getting into further trouble. The biggest problem being that when Van knows he has a helping hand nearby, it only drives him to choose more reckless acts. Decisions Bodhi usually has to answer for as much, if not more than Van. Little does the youngest brother know he is the reason Bodhi’s leg got run over in the first place. Van had run out to their parents, under the impression that if he asked nicely they’d stay. But Bodhi had chased him to stop the younger boy and put himself between Van and their parents speeding off in a fury. Bodhi had given up his leg under the wheel the their parents car, for a little boy that didn’t know better.

[imgilmoregirl]

29) things you said in the backyard at night + rumbelle ?

Thanks for sending this anon, I loved to write this One-Shot for you!

You can also find this work on AO3.

Belle woke up to thesound of Gideon babbling. She turned around in the bed, sinking her face on thepillow, trying to ignore the sounds coming from the baby monitor, until she wascompletely sure that they were not going to stop. He was totally awake andprobably playing with his stuffed bunny on the crib, clearly not willing to goback to sleep unless someone came there to soothe him, but Belle was too tiredand groped the sheets beside her in an attempt to find her husband’s body andwake him, but the other side of the bed was empty.

Making a whiny noiseshe sat up, looking around with weary eyes, before she finally sighed andslipped off the bed, going to the nursery to find Gideon chewing the bunny’sear. When he saw her, he let it fall from his mouth, stretching his little armsto be lifted from the crib, resting on his mother’s hip with a giant smile. Anda great part of her tiredness was forgotten as soon as Belle got him safeagainst her body, the light weight of her son making wake up in the middle ofthe night worth it.

“Papa,”Gideon demanded making her giggle, “papa!”

“Come on, Gid,I’ll prepare a bottle to you and then we can see if we find papa,” shemurmured, heading out of the nursery and going to the kitchen, downstairs.

Muttering a lullaby,Belle prepared him some milk and putted it on his baby bottle, letting thetoddler grab it and start to suck happily. All lights were turned off exceptfrom the kitchen and after a moment cradling Gideon gently, she noticed thatthe door for the backyard was open and decided to go there, because if herhusband wasn’t anywhere inside the house, then she bet that she knew where hewas.

“Rumple?”Belle called, crossing barefoot the backyard. “Rumple are you here?”

Smoothing Gideon’sback, she eyed the basement, but seemed to be dark inside there too.Frustrated, Belle shouted to the night: “Rumplestiltskin you better showyourself right now!”

The door of thebasement was open, to show her husband coming up to meet her. He was almostfully dressed, only tie, waistcoat and jacket missing to finish his usualoutfit, but she needed to admit that he looked a lot more relaxed this way,with the highest part of his shirt open, showing his soft skin and sleevestucked to his elbows. Rumple had little smirk on his lips as he approached her,that looked a complete mess in comparison to him.

“Hey,” hemurmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead and stroking their son’s light-brownhair. “I was down there spinning, what are you doing up?”

“This littlesomeone,” Belle started, pointing at Gideon, “thinks papa’s habit ofspending most of the night awake is a cool thing, so he woke up to play.”

She tickled her fingersunder the toddler’s chin and he busted into delicious giggles, almost lettinghis bottle fall, but Rumple got it and handled to Gideon again.

“He is gettinggood in tricking me then, because I was at the nursery just some moments agoand I was pretty sure that he was asleep. But well I should have checkedtwice,” Rumplestiltskin said watching as Gideon finished his bottle andlaid his head against Belle’s shoulder. “Do you want me to take himupstairs, sweetheart?”

“No, I can manageto do that,” she replied. “I guess was just looking for you, becauseit still bothers me to wake up to an empty bed.”

He opened his mouth toanswer that but Gideon started to stretch his arms in his direction, trying toescape from his mother’s embrace.

“Papa,” thechild begged.

“Yes, come here,my darling boy.” Rumple mumbled taking him from Belle and walking to asmall bench they had settled on the backyard after she returned home, as hiswife loved to read outside, especially because she could place a huge basket byher side and put Gideon in there, so she could read aloud for him to hear whilethe sun bathed their skins.

“I know that Ishouldn’t leave you alone in bed that often, but sleep doesn’t come so easilyfor me as it does for you and sometimes I need something to distract my mindfrom my own thought, so I wander around the house. I check on Gideon and Ispin.”

“Because it helpsyou forget,” she completed but then furrowed, taking the seat beside himand asking: “About what?”

“Everything,”Rumplestiltskin answered, sincerely. “I still think about my Baelfire as Ido our grown-up boy.”

Looking down at herbaby’s perfect little face, she remembered the handsome man she knew he would growinto as the years go by. Belle always caught herself thinking about him, abouthow tortured her son had been in this other life, where everything he knew waspain. She had vowed to give her child the best childhood memories he could getand always assure him that he was loved and had a tender home to look back to.

“I do too,”Belle whispered and then noticed that Gideon’s chest was raising and falling ina heavy way as his eyelids closed. “Ah, he slept.”

Rumple nodded smilingwhile she placed the baby bottle she had been holding aside, and let her taketheir son from him to nestle him against her own chest, rocking the toddlerwith a motherly look in her eyes that was so full of love that his heartattempted to stop at this beautiful sight.

“It helps to knowthat you two are here and safe,” he said moving his hand to rest on hershoulder and allow his fingers to play with the curls of her hair. “Whenyou were living at that ship, I couldn’t manage a sleep a full night, because Iwas always drowning in concern, but then the mornings came and I always endedup doing something to push you away again.”

Belle snorted, angrywith herself for the things that had happened in the past, but she knew sheshouldn’t let her mind wander back to these dark times. The moonlight wasgently illuminating them, crickets made low noises in the grass and she had themost important men of her life right there by her side, every bad thing should beforgotten.

“Those werehorrible days, my love, that I don’t want to think about anymore, because wewere stupid and we hurt each other in every single way possible,” shesaid, looking deep into his brown eyes and leaning closer to him. “Westarted over, Rumple, and this moment here with the three of us is everythingwe should think about.”

Agreeing with her,Rumplestiltskin caught her lips in a sweet slow kiss, cupping her cheek andfeeling more grateful for them to have worked things out than never before.Family always meant the world to him and now he had it with Belle and nobodywas going to take it away from him.

“Back to when youwere a maid in my castle,” Rumple started as he departed his lips fromhers, “I could have never imagined that this would happen.”

He gesticulated betweenthem, both meaning their relationship and their son that was now peacefullyback to sleep, completely unaware of its parents’ conversation.

“But you wishedso, didn’t you?”

“Even monsters candream, can’t they?” He chuckled. “I just wanted you, whatever came inaddition would only be a gift, and in fact it is.”

Belle bit down at herlower lip trying to hid a smile as she thought about her husband plotting tohave her all the time she was in the Dark Castle, Belle just wished he hadn’tbeen so fool to the point of throwing her out when they shared that first TrueLove’s kiss, but now she knew that Rumple needed his powers to find his boy.She bent down, brushing her lips at her child’s forehead.

“I’m really gladthat the only villain that I have chasing after me lately is you,” Bellesaid with a giggle making her husband laugh too.

“The deepconversations we have, in the middle of the night at our backyard,”Rumplestiltskin chuckled.

“It could beworse,” she shrugged, “we could have been burying a body.”

This time he had tohold the guffaw that attempted to escape him, so he wouldn’t wake his son.

“Where did thatcome from?”

“We hid Blue’sbody in the back of your shop for weeks!”

“But she was notdead,” he pointed out.

“Yeah,” Bellemumbled, “but I’m tired and I’m not a good thinker when I feel exhausted.”

Standing up,Rumplestiltskin held a hand up for her to help her do the same and enlaced hisarm on her waist. “Alright, time to go to bed, sweetheart.”

So, the three of themheaded back inside the salmon house, leaving a baby bottle forgotten in thebackyard.

[fooliery]

time for everyone’s favorite! the verse tag dump

[parvusimperator]

The Smoked Salmon Incident

Some years ago, a couple of my friends and I got together to attempt to smoke fish. This ended up being quite disastrous. Like on Dragnet, names have been changed to protect the innocent. And by ‘innocent,’ I mean ‘profoundly stupid.’ Like many such ideas, it started with scotch.

Specifically, it started with a bottle of Laphroaig that my buddy Jason had bought. Jason and I were in college at the time, and figured we could have a grand time by focusing on quality with one good bottle of scotch apiece, rather than buy the usual large quantity of terrible booze. For those of you who don’t know, Laphroaig tastes and smells of peat smoke. It is a very strong aroma. Jason and I are quite fond of it, and thought that it would go really well with fish, if the fish had a strong taste of its own. Something like salmon. However, importing peat smoked salmon was out of the reach of a couple of poor college students, and the idea was quietly dropped.

A couple years later, Jason discovered that one could buy peat online relatively cheaply. He hatched the brilliant scheme wherein he, myself, and another of our friends named David, would pool some money, buy some peat and some fresh salmon and then smoke the salmon ourselves.

None of us had any experience smoking meats, let alone fish, but inexperience seldom deters youth. We heartily agreed to go along with the plan. David and I suggested splitting the cost of a smoker amongst the three of us, but Jason is nothing if not the world’s biggest cheapskate. He had seen Alton Brown improvise a smoker, and he was adamant that this would suffice for our purposes. For reasons that will no doubt become very clear shortly, I will refer to this improvised smoker as ‘the infernal machine.’

The infernal machine was conceived as follows. Take a large cardboard box. At the bottom, place an electric hotplate, atop which lies a saucepan containing the smoking media (in our case, peat). Some distance above the saucepan, lies the meat to be smoked, resting on some dowels driven through the sides of the box. A thermometer is configured to monitor the temperature of the meat, and another is configured to measure the temperature of the air in the box. The hotplate is set to a rather low setting.

Now, at this time I was a grad student living in Albany, NY, David was living in Cleveland, OH, and Jason was living in Pittsburgh, PA. We opted to meet up somewhat centrally in Pittsburgh, where Jason had all of the components necessary to make the infernal machine. Or so he led us to believe. We gathered at Jason’s parents’ place, where he was living, and reimbursed him for the peat and the salmon. We set about curing the salmon and letting it sit, and then we proceeded to play video games and drink on the first night of a long weekend.

Later that evening, when we were all at least three sheets to the wind, Jason told David and I that the electric hotplate had failed to arrive from Amazon (or wherever he ordered it) and that we would have to go buy one in the morning. By this time, none of us were in any condition to drive. Had we been informed earlier, we might have been able to go get a hotplate but it was not to be.

The next day saw us occupied with more video games and some shooting. On the way to get targets and clays we stopped at Target. They did not have any electric hotplates. They did have an electric skillet which cost $40. David and I thought we should just get this one, but Jason swore up and down that we could get the same thing for less at Walmart, so we left empty handed.

The next day was Sunday. Smoking day. We did get to Walmart, and purchased a smaller, cheaper electric skillet for $20. We proceeded to set up the infernal machine in the garage, next to the shelving unit full of flammable cleaning products and used motor oil. We did open the garage door for ventilation. And then we sat down to wait.

Before too long we noticed that we had a problem on our hands. The supercheap, useless abomination of an electric skillet we bought was unable to provide the heat necessary. We never figured out if the heating element lacked the necessary power or if some ill-conceived safety device was causing the heating element to cut in and out. Or perhaps both were occurring. All we knew as that we weren’t getting the heat needed to smoke the salmon properly. And to the surprise of only Jason, our box was leaking what little smoke we had.

We quickly agreed to split up. One of us would tend the infernal machine, and the others would seek out a new hotplate. At this time, I was furious, and opted to look for the hotplate. I reckoned that if I was left alone with the infernal machine, I would destroy it, and if Jason and I were left with the infernal machine, I would beat him with it. David opted to join me. Reflecting later, we were both of one mind on the issue, and felt that we needed to leave the garage to preserve what little chance of success we had left.

We first went to Target, but the $40 electric skillets were all gone. So we started driving around an unfamiliar city, looking for unfamiliar stores that might have hotplates or electric skillets. After about an hour of angrily driving around and finding nothing, we remembered that we had smartphones. So we spent another fifteen minutes calling different places. Again, we came up empty. We then went back to Jason’s.

He had continued to improvise with little success. He added a crock pot to the infernal machine, but that hadn’t helped much. At this point, we all thought we were stuck. But the salmon had been cured in salt and spices. We couldn’t switch to a more conventional cooking solution in the time available. So Jason abandoned the infernal machine, and came up with yet another ill-conceived idea: he would improvise a smoker using the gas grill. This was a large unit, and he set the salmon on one end, lit only the burner on the other end, put the peat above the burner, and closed the lid.

Of course, even on the lowest setting, the gas grill is way too hot for this. And it’s not very smoketight. Before long, smoke poured from the grill like we had set fire to an R. J Reynolds warehouse. Jason frantically tried to plug the vent points with rags. Shortly thereafter, he remembered to wet the rags. No great inferno ensued, but the salmon was a total loss. It was very overcooked, extremely dry, tasted nothing like peat and all too much of salt. David and I filled up on potatoes and corn beer and everything else that wasn’t fish-flavored salt. We drowned our sorrows later that night with Long Island iced teas, which did succeed in putting us out of our misery.

All I remember from the rest of the evening is wearing to one day exact our revenge on the peat and the infernal machine. We vowed to revisit the idea with a proper smoker and more time.

And we still haven’t forgiven Jason.

[rauliskafan]

The Miracle in Their Midst

An imagine for @svu-stories on a Sunday!!! Enjoy!!!

“Why can’t we just talk about this?”

You were already running late. Getting the chance to cater a funeral was far from the most glamorous gig. But the late Maureen Adler had been a writer of much renown. Derek made the cold comment that you tried to push to the darkest recesses of your mind.

One repast might mean lots of returns in the land of living.

Brutal but true. And you’d hardly had any sleep as you pulled on your coat to brave the subzero chill of the world outside the apartment.

“Are you really just going to walk away?”

Rafael moved to bar your point of departure. Standing in the doorway, his fingers slowly curling into fists alongside his hips, he played a game of chicken with your eyes. You were not about to blink first.

And like a sunflower loaded down with seeds on an August day that seemed impossible given the draft wafting through the windows, he wilted first.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did,” you said, struggling to keep your voice calm as Jingles circled your feet and purred into your ankles in the hope of a pat. Bending down, you placed her in the bed overloaded with plush toys in the shapes of fish and kissed her ears as you tried to flee again.

Maybe Rafael was withering but the lawyer in him longed to present his case.

“Fine. I did. I don’t see how you can keep up this pace.”

“So, speaks the man with caffeine in his veins.”

“We are not talking about me!” he said. “I worry about you. You don’t sleep.”

“Because you wouldn’t stop talking last night.”

“And you’ve lost so much weight.”

“Some husbands would consider that a good thing,” you smirked as Jingles batted the make-believe lobster until it flew under the couch and she chased it into the shadows.

“I don’t,” he said. His hands were on your face. Damn those fingers that had staked a claim on every inch of your body making him a cartographer and you some uncharted terrain. It seemed foolish to fight when you knew what they could achieve beneath the folds of your skirt.

“I’m only saying take a step back,” he whispered, his lips dotting your brow. “Derek can handle the heavy lifting.”

“But it’s my operation,” you protested.

“Do you have to make it sound like you’re going into battle.”

A fight with finger foods and an open bar. Maybe not as noble as his life’s work. But why should you have to---

“Mi amor, please. I hate it when you frown.”

“Adding that to the list are you, Rafael? Well your sad and somewhat skinny wife doesn’t care for any of it.”

“Enough!”

His embrace tightened, his lips circling yours as you tasted the tell-tale espresso on his tongue. Stronger than his usual morning fare. You pictured him struggling to find comfort on the couch, understood why Jingles whined for the better part of the night with until the sun rose and you opened a can of savory salmon to calm her nerves. When his mouth finally moved away, you started to trace the dark circles under his green eyes. Rafael grabbed your wrist, his kisses bathing the tips of your fingers before he sighed.

“Please. It’s my job to take care of you.”

“That’s your job?” you asked, your own hand forming a tiny fist as you punched his shoulder. Retrieving the toy lobster, you tossed it to Jingles’ bed and made a beeline for the door.

“I must have missed that part of the vows,” you spat. “Do you, Rafael Barba, take this poor, pathetic female who obviously does not know her limitations into your loving care from this moment until eternity?”

“I never said---”

“What if I asked you to throw it all in? I see the gray hairs, Rafael. You’re not getting any younger either.”

His silence said more than any attempt at poetry, and you started to leave when you looked back one last time.

“I’m not a child,” you said. “We have the cat for that. Try treating me like a grown up.”

Racing away before he could wrench you back with an answer, you waited until you were tucked away in the subway. Only then did you cry. Easier said than done sandwiched between a girl with blonde braids who talked incessantly on her phone about last night’s lousy date and a graying woman who might be feeding a mouse or a rat or some other rodent by hand with bits of bacon in as it nested in her wicker purse. Had you been the one on the right? Might you morph into the lady on the left? Examining your bag, you wondered if Jingles would fit. No. Rafael loved the kitty too much and always bragged that they had the best cat on the block. The fact that she hid from mice did nothing to alter his affections.

But did he really want you lolling about the apartment and shedding on the furniture?

No time to think about that as you emerged into the fresh air and found Derek already unloading the vans.

“You look like hell!” he said.

“Such a sweet talker.”

“Trouble on the home front?” he asked

“Nothing that’s going to break my stride.”

“Got Matthew Wilder on your iPod?” he quipped.

“Shut up if you want to keep your job.”

Maureen Adler’s penthouse walls were lined with books. Which was to be expected.  Volumes detailing drafts of plays worthy of awards. Others that never saw the harsh lights of a stage. You would have loved the chance to get lost in the woman’s words. But shrimp puffs, spiced olives and cucumber caviar rounds now demanded all your attention. Working hand in hand with Derek, you saw the trays out and filled them again as the liquor flowed. Once it was time for the Kamut pasta with fennel and beans you took a deep breath and made your way to a balcony out back. The small wrought iron railing felt like frost against your bare hands, your golden wedding band glistening in the wake of a few slivers of sunshine. Why did your husband have to make you so mad? Didn’t he know that you could take care of yourself?

“Am I intruding?”

Your hard breaths halted when you spied a regal woman in a long dark dress sauntering forward with drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. You knew her at first glance. She always graced the pages of the Sunday paper after playing one part to acclaim after the other.

“You… you’re Amelia Stafford!” you croaked.

“In the flesh!” she admitted before doing a little twirl. The years had been more than kind to her ever-imposing visage; the one time you saw her live she made Ranevskaya’s fate far more tragic than even Chekhov could have envisioned.

Strangely she was all smiles now despite the darkness of the day.

“You’re the caterer,” she said. “Thank you for such a magnificent spread.”

“It… it’s an honor to help out.”

“Maureen would have made a feast on the olives alone.”

Snuffing out her smoke, she leaned over the railing and you tried to hold your tongue. But how often in your life would you get the chance to stand in the presence of a legend?

“I’m a fan,” you said.

“So was Maureen,” she said.

“I know. You two were in love.”

Amelia Stafford’s stare turned sharp and you feared that you had said the wrong thing when she nodded her head.

“For most of my life,” she said. “These last few years were not easy.”

“I… I read that Ms. Adler was sick.”

“It does things to a relationship.”

“What sorts of things?”

Finishing her drink and lighting another cigarette, she offered you a stick, and you accepted as your shared trails of smoke dissipated against the threat of more snow.

“I for one wanted to keep her in a glass case where no harm could touch her.”

“Really?” you asked as you took another drag. “And what did Ms. Adler say.”

“That she was not about to be boxed up.”

“Makes sense,” you muttered as a stream of ashes drifted towards the street.

“We fought about it all the time,” Amelia confessed. “But it was only because I adored her like no other. Her mind, her talent…”

The actress started to tear up and you almost touched her hand when the smile returned to her face.

“But Maureen had this thing.”

“Which was?”

“She could inhabit my mind. Understand that I only wanted to wake up with her every morning. And like any decent playwright she saw my side of things. Still, the fights we had.”

“I can relate,” you muttered.

A voice called from inside and Amelia almost took her leave when she looked back.

“Love breeds worry. How can it not? A person finds their match and only hopes for more minutes than a clock can count to keep the miracle in their midst. Today I celebrate. Because I had her in my arms for so long.”

Forget the snow. A thunderbolt hit the tiny balcony and your dropped your cigarette as you raced past Derek, bowed your head to the actress who held the secrets of the universe in her heart.

“We still have the dessert!” he cried.

“Do it without me this once,” you said. “I’ll make it up with the next one. But right now…”

The cab carrying you to Hogan Place needed to move faster. You thought of jumping out and pushing it with the sudden strength flooding your body when the driver reached the destination. Awarding him a massive tip for his efforts, you hurried to your husband’s office and burst through the door.

“Rafael! I---”

His chair was vacant, the entire room abandoned. Carmen said that he was in court but she expected him back soon. So you waited, toes tapping as you longed to share your discovery. But he failed to return. Never answered his phone.

Had you learned the truth too late?

The day darkened as you fell asleep in his home away from home and roused at the feel of a warm hand on your neck.

“Mi amor? What are you doing---?”

“You’re here!” Hugging him tightly, you kissed his cheeks and rubbed the cold from his hair until he sat at your side, still looking worried.

“You didn’t pick up. I kept calling.

“I’m just seeing it now,” he said. “What’s happened?”

His emerald gaze brimmed with fear and you kissed his lids shut as you held him and saw that the snow had fallen as you brushed the flakes from his scarf.

“I get it,” you said as you quickly kissed him again. “I’m not saying that I’m packing it in. But I know now that you only say those things because you love me. Because you don’t want… us to ever end.”

His hand was at your brow before his fingers drifted down your cheeks to wipe away a few tears.

“Are you really alright?” he questioned.

“Very much so,” you assured him. “And I love that you worry. I worry about you, too. This is not exactly the safest line of work.”

“I watch my step,” he promised.

“That’s all we can do. Get home at the end of the day. Or find each other like this.”

More tears came without your wanting and he laid you down on the cushions so he could snuggle into your side and soothe the sadness from your face until your eyes locked.

“So what do we do now?” he carefully asked.

“Call a truce?” you suggested. “I’m sure we’ll fight again. But I did vow till death do us part. And I’m in no hurry to know a world without you.”

“That’s all I’m saying,” he said as he sobbed into your neck and let you hold him closer. “Mi amor…”

Sitting up, you held his hand, your bands of gold intertwining. Finding him… loving this man was a miracle.

“And I want so many more minutes on our clock.”

“You have it,” he promised. “Because I have you.”

Savoring the safety of his arms, you kissed him until every other light in the building dimmed. When he asked if you wanted to head home, you nodded and let him lead you the elevator. His arms were almost around your waist when he eased you back and raised his eyebrows.

“Have you been smoking?” he asked.

You giggled and cupped his face.

“I’ll tell you all about it once we’re in bed.”

“Sure it’s some story,” he said. “And I want to hear it for the rest of our lives.”

[anotherlifefic]

Chapter 38: Happy Days

We returned to our home in the city after the party. For the first time in what seemed like years. And after that, everything seemed to go back to the way it was. Link made a full recovery, I continued to attend my fighting lessons at Ashanti‘s school once a week, during which I would leave Gareth in either Link‘s or Sanna‘s care, and worked on Malon‘s wedding dress. Navi soon left us to return to the forest, promising to come back if we ever needed her. The chill of winter slowly faded into the gentle warmth of spring, which was then replaced by the heat of summer approaching. And when the first day of summer arrived, I spotted a familiar wagon while out shopping.

Link and I were walking side by side, talking about whatever trivial things came to our minds. Link was holding Gareth and I carried the basket. While I let my eyes wander over the stalls on the marketplace, I stopped and called out:„Jenna!“ Link must have heard the excitement in my voice, because he gave me a puzzled look. „Why are you so excited about her being here?“ Oh right. I hadn‘t told him. And he would have to wait for an explanation. I just grabbed his sleeve and tugged him towards Jenna‘s wagon. „Come, let‘s go say hello to her!“ Gareth, sensing my excitement, cooed and stretched his tiny hands out towards where we were headed. He was four months old now and much more aware of his sorroundings. Jenna poked her head out of the wagon when she heard my voice, and gave me an annoyed look, until she saw Link. She gave him her usual bright smile and waved him over. „Link!“ Link looked at me doubtfully. „What...“ „I‘ll explain it later“, I assured him and stepped in front of Jenna. „Hello, Jenna. Good to see you again. How have your travels been?“ Both Link and Jenna seemed equally baffled by my cheerful attitude. They looked at each other, then at me. „It‘s been… nice. Always good to see a lot of the world“, she sputtered, caught completely off guard. „That‘s good to hear. Hey, Link and I were planning to make baked salmon for supper. Why don‘t you join us, so you can tell us all about what you were up to?“ She looked at Link again. „Sure. I‘d love to.“ „Great! See you at six!“

„What was that?“, Link questioned as we moved on, occasionally stopping in front of stalls to browse their wares. „I met Jenna in the erased future“, I replied, and then explained what had happened. Link was quiet for a long time after I finished, just silently rocking Gareth in his arms. Then he finally asked:„So you think you can become friends with her now, based on what you experienced during your time-travel.“ „I know I can. Jenna has a good heart.“

That evening, just when I got the salmon out of the oven, there was a knock at our door. Link went to open, and a few seconds later Jenna stepped into our dining area. She wore an exquisite blue dress made of silk, with a low neckline and fine embroidery on the seams. Her hair was done up in a crownbraid. „Ah, just in time!“ I placed the food down on the dinnertable. „Make yourself comfortable!“ She sat down at the table, still looking at me suspiciously, before she turned to Link. „Oh, your house is beautiful, Link! It must be so nice to live here!“ „It is.“ „Though I kind of expected you to have a bigger home“, she continued. Before Link could answer, Gareth, who was sitting in a crib we had placed in the dining area so he could sit with us while we ate, started fussing. I took him into my arms and rocked him until he calmed down. Jenna slowly turned her head to look at him. „...Is this your child?“ „Yes“, Link replied, his chest positively swelling with pride. „That‘s my son.“ I could almost see Jenna‘s heart break. She looked at the toddler in my arms with her mouth slightly open as if to say something. I wanted to comfort her. To say, or do anything to make her feel better. So impulsively, I stretched out my arms. „Do you want to hold him?“ She swallowed, but took Gareth, holding him close to her chest. „So cute“, she mumbled. „I wonder what you would look like if I was your mother.“ I reached over, but only to stroke Gareth‘s cheek as he dozed in Jenna‘s arms. „I‘m sure you‘d have the prettiest babies, Jenna.“ She looked at me, bit her lip and looked away. „Well I guess we‘ll never know.“ With that, she carefully placed Gareth back in the crib and started eating. After a while of quietly enjoying our meal, I tried to get the conversation going again:„So where have you been, Jenna? You were gone for almost a year, so it must have been far away.“ „I went to a lot of different places“, she replied, pulling the fish apart with her fork. „I went back home for a while, and then travelled through the Faron region just east of Hyrule‘s border. Have you ever been there?“ I sighed wistfully. „Unfortunately not. The only time I ever left Hyrule was not too long ago, while I was… looking for someone.“ Link and I exchanged a quick look. „But even then, I was still fairly close to the border.“ „Oh, Faron is a beautiful region. Most of the trees there are palm trees, and you can find all kinds of exotic fruit and animals if you know where to look. But it‘s also fairly dangerous. There are thunderstorms every other day… the locals say it‘s because there‘s a dragon living in the region. I never saw it, though.“ Jenna‘s demeanor had brightened considerably. „And what about your homeland? What was it called? The Great Lebian Coast? Where is that?“, I asked further. „It‘s very far to the west. You see, north of the Haunted Wasteland lies a region covered in snow, called Hebra. Now if you go further west, you eventually cross the border to Labrynna, and right behind Labrynna is where the Great Lebian Coast is.“ In between two bites of potatoes, she continued:„I technically still own my parent‘s farm, but I was so lonely living there alone and I couldn‘t run it all by myself. That‘s why I became a merchant. I hoped that travelling around would help me… find a good husband. Someone to continue my family‘s legacy with.“ „I‘m sure you will find someone eventually“, Link said with a smile. „You are a sweet girl, Jenna. Someday, someone will see that.“

As the night went on, Jenna told us more about the many places she had visited. Countries I had never even heard about, with odd people and even odder costums. And the more I heard, the more I wished to travel myself. When it was finally time to say goodbye, Jenna was smiling at us. „Thank you for the invitation.“ „You‘re welcome. And feel free to visit us whenever you like while you‘re in the city.“

I didn‘t have much time to think about travelling after that. The days leading up to Malon‘s wedding were busy, to say the least. As the matron of honor, I was in charge of most of the preparations. I helped the bridesmaids decorate, I oversaw the preparation of the food, and I finished Malon‘s dress and veil just in time. She looked beautiful in it, like a princess. „Matthias will love this“, I told her as I finished some adjustments due to her advanced pregnancy. „I know I do“, she replied, a bit misty-eyed. „Thank you, Rebecca.“ I lightly booped her nose. „Anything for you.“

And then, finally, the day had come. I held back tears as I saw Malon walk down the aisle, holding onto the arm of her father, while Matthias beamed at her. I had made sure that LonLon Ranch was properly decorated. Flowers of all colours were wound around the arch, and the aisle was covered in petals. For this day, the ranch had been turned into a fairlytale bathed in flowers. Once Talon handed her over to Matthias, I took Malon‘s bouquet and listened to the words of the priest. It was the same kind of sermon he had giving during my wedding; the standard for most couples. Malon and Matthias were looking at each other the whole time, as if only they existed in their own little world. „I, Malon, take you, Matthias to be my lawfully wedded husband...“ „To love, to cherish… „...in sickness and in health...“ „...until death do us part.“ They exchanged the rings, and then kissed. The whole wedding party cheered, some were crying. Talon was probably the loudest, blowing his nose into his hankerchief.

The reception afterward quickly became a big party, with all of the guests drinking and dancing. I mostly stood by the side with Link, watching everyone have a good time. At this point, I was quite happy just watching. I was exhausted from the preparations, but it felt good to see everything come together in the end. Link took my hand. „Reminds me of our wedding. Our reception wasn‘t quite as lively, though.“ „Well… we kinda got married in a rush because of the approaching war.“ He nodded thoughtfully. „Do you think we should have another wedding? A proper one this time?“ „I mean, we could technically renew our vows at some point… but I think it‘s a bit early for that.“ „That‘s true. Maybe a few years down the road, then.“ Now that I was finally a bit calmer, I looked over to him. „Actually… there‘s something I wanted to talk about.“ He raised his eyebrow. „Oh?“ I was quiet for a moment, not quite able to find the right words. But then I just blurted out:„I want to go travelling!“ „Travelling? But what about our home? What about Gareth?“ „We can take him along. He can grow up seeing all kinds of different places.“ I held onto Link‘s hand, begging for him to understand. „I‘m not saying we should leave Hyrule forever. Just… see a bit more of the world. Without the threat of certain doom constantly on our minds.“ He took a deep breath. „I… I‘d be lying if I said that I haven‘t thought about this before. But are you sure?“ „Absolutely!“ I insisted. „All of the places Jenna mentioned… and much more! I want to see them all with my own two eyes!“ This was ridiculous. I felt like a child begging for candy. Link thought for a few more seconds. „...We‘ll have to wait until after the coronation and then ask Zelda what she thinks about it. It may be an unofficial title, but I‘m still the protector of Hyrule.“ That sure as hell didn‘t bother you when you left ten years ago, I though but didn‘t say it out loud. I didn‘t want to start a lover‘s spat at my best friend‘s wedding. Speaking of best friend, Malon walked up to us, a wide grin on her face. „Hey there! I hope you enjoy the party!“ „Sure we do, Malon“, I assured her. „What about you?“ „Oh it is everything I ever dreamed of.“ She hugged me and kissed my cheek. „Thank you, Rebecca.“

The coronation was not long after the wedding. Link and I were standing in the throne room, somewhat off to the side, while we watched Zelda walk down the red carpet up to the throne her father used to occupy. She now wore an elaborate gown of white and purple, with the emblem of the royal family stitched down the front of her skirt. It was noon, and the sun‘s rays that were falling through the window above the throne hit her hair and almost made it look like she had a halo around her head. The sages were gathered around the throne, as they would be her vassals during her reign. She bowed before them, and they reciprocated; a sign of mutual respect. Rauru stepped forth. „Zelda, once Princess of Hyrule, do you vow to protect Hyrule and its people?“ „I do“, she replied. „Do you vow to keep the peace, to rule justly and with mercy?“ „I do“, she replied again. Now Rauru turned around. „Will the representatives of the races lend our new Queen their power?“ „By lake and stream, sea and river, us, the Zora, will grant Her Majesty our loyalty“, Princess Ruto replied. „By mountain and hill, rock and stone, us, the Gorons, will grant Her Majesty our strength“, Darunia added, pounding his fist against his chest for emphasis. „By darkness and shadow, by secrets to be kept, us, the Sheikah, will grant Her Majesty our protection.“ Impa gave a small smile as she said that. „By forest and meadow, and all things green, us, the Kokiri, will grant Her Majesty our friendship.“ Saria beamed up at Zelda. It was good to see how much the once so reclusive Kokiri had become part of the kingdom. „By sand and spirit, blood and steel, us, the Gerudo, will grant Her Majesty our support.“ Rauru nodded, then turned to Zelda again. „And I, Rauru, grant Her Majesty the blessing of both her ancestors and the Goddesses they served. May Her reign be long and prosperous.“ He took the crown that had been resting on a small table next to him, and gently put it on Zelda‘s head. The gemstone on the middle of the piece flared up in the sunlight, and Zelda turned to the people. The hall erupted into cheering, its echo so deafening that I had to cover my ears. But I smiled. Zelda would be a wonderful Queen.

The coronation party lasted for hours, which Link and I spent dancing and talking to the sages. But once it all died down and people started to go home, we could finally catch Zelda alone. „There you are!“, she said. Then she looked around. „I hope you enjoyed the celebration.“ „It was grand, Your Majesty“, I replied, not sure if I could still call her Zelda now that she was Queen. „Rebecca“, she said gently, taking my hands. „It‘s still me. I‘m still your friend. Me being Queen doesn‘t change anything.“ Then she leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on my cheek. She smelled sweet. Of lilac and roses. „There‘s actually something we wanted to talk to you about“, Link said, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. „Rebecca and I have been thinking about going travelling for a while.“ It wasn‘t hard to see that this revelation hit her. „You want to leave? Now?“ „Not… now. There‘s still a lot to be prepared. But sometime within the next year.“ „What about your son? And your home? What about m-… “ She stopped, stuttered a bit. „What about Hyrule? Link, you are our most powerful warrior. What if something happens while you‘re gone?“ „We won‘t be gone for long“, Link promised. „We‘ll be back before you know it. With a lot of new stories to tell.“ Zelda faltered. „I can‘t stop you, can I? No. You were always a restless spirit, Link. Alright then. But do stay in touch.“ „We will“, I promised and kissed her hand. „We will always return to you. No matter how far away the wind takes us.“