#'it was my cowardice that drove the three of you apart'

[damonrutherford]

Tales of the insanely wealthy and alone...

He got like this sometimes when the clock rolled over to the early morning hours and the high of his evening wore off. When there were no more skirts to chase and no amount of liquor in the world could drown out the dull roar in the back of his head. Hardly meant he wouldn't try to find another outlet though.

So there he sat on the otherwise dusty floor of his mother's tomb–– a vague mental note made to get someone in here to clean more often than the current cadence. A ridiculous luxury considering the subject, but if Andrew insisted that they weren't going to be buried in the ground like everyone else, then the least Damon could do was spruce the place up. Flowers, too. He'd get more of those.

Then, as he did in childhood, Damon rattled off about his day and spared absolutely no details. An odd sight he imagined, speaking so candidly to the walls of this crypt, but if she were still around, Cerys would encourage it. In fact, she'd probably be a bit hurt if he left anything out. Or at least this was how he preferred to think of his mother, despite the three decades since her passing somewhat muddying his memories.

Didn't all kids elevate their mother to a version of sainthood after losing her so young? At least in his case, she actually had been one.

In the middle of recounting his idea for investing in a tech driven hedge fund, the familiar ping of a text notification drew him up short. His phone was an endless abyss of unanswered messages, emails, and voicemails–– most professional, some scathing, most which remained muted to avoid inundation. Only four people had their settings converted to bypass that feature and all but one shared his last name.

It used to be five.

The reminder hit him unexpectedly when he read over Lara's brief response to their earlier conversation. Without thinking, he closed her text and opened his contact list, barely scrolling through the A's before the name jumped out.

On low nights, genuinely deep pits in the midnight hours, he sometimes thought about calling that number just to hear the other man's voice on the recording. Call it personal cowardice or misguided altruism (because what if Revati hadn't turned it off?), Damon could never bring himself to press the button. Not even once in the year since he received news of yet another devastating loss in his life.

Amir hadn’t deserved to go out like that. In his opinion few did, but especially him, regardless of how familial loyalty and complications drove them apart. Now the lack of closure or goodbye festered forever beneath his skin, the burgeoning what ifs would always linger; too bitter a pillow to swallow.

Another message flashed across the unlocked screen, this time a reminder from his assistant.

The Malaysian investors will be in-office soon for your scheduled conference call. 3:00 sharp. I know you're up, drink some water and be ready in 40.

Only six months on the job and already Dana managed the insurmountable feat of both organizing his entire calendar and keeping Damon somewhat in check. Maybe he would take care to not sleep with this one and ensure she actually stuck around long enough to matter, as Gideon so rightfully suggested. Or perhaps he should simply refrain from hiring beautiful women to avoid any future temptation.

Well, the plight of old dogs and all...

"Duty calls, I'm afraid. I'll have to regale my plans for world domination next time." His thumb traced over the inscription of Cerys' name. "Bye, Mum." With that, he turned and departed into the muggy cemetery air.

All at once, his formerly somber expression fell behind the mask of public charisma as he dialed his assistant's number. Since apparently she was also awake at this hour ––enough to send him a cheeky text–– it shouldn't be an issue. “Dana, love, can you send a car to the location I’m about to drop?” Morbid to share like this, but she knew precisely who was buried here. Everyone did.

Answering without apologies nor puttering for her earlier message, Dana only offered to reschedule upon reviewing the address he sent over. Which was precisely what he liked about her, respectful with enough moxie to snap him back to reality.

“No need to cancel, I wouldn’t want to keep our prospective friends waiting.”

[panharmonium]

this is legitimately one of my top five favorite kakashi scenes.

i love seeing kakashi break the rules in the name of doing the right thing, and this scene especially is particularly satisfying to me, because his moment of defiance here is, to my mind, long overdue.  

one of my eternal frustrations in early naruto is how the leaf village administration gives kakashi the job of caring for a group of super high-needs children and then continually makes that job as difficult for him as possible.  they task him with being solely responsible for the development and well-being of three twelve year-olds - a group that includes naruto (a walking disaster with a god’s power trapped inside his body) and sasuke (a genocide survivor fixated on killing his own brother), BOTH of whom are being hunted by different groups of supercriminals - and then the village keeps getting in kakashi’s way or dropping the ball or actively ordering him to prioritize other things.  

so much of what goes wrong with the kids in this period is the result of other people interfering with kakashi’s work or being negligent or endangering the kids/putting kakashi in impossible positions.  team 7’s first big mission sets the tone for everything that comes after, with someone else’s lie putting kakashi in a situation where he has to single-handedly protect not just the client who deceived him, but the three children who were supposed to be the clients’ other protectors.  and after that, the list just multiplies:

ten anbu operatives can’t manage to protect sasuke’s hospital room from orochimaru’s minions, so kakashi has to do it himself and then whisk sasuke out of the village for a month, leaving naruto in the hands of a substitute and sakura with her parents

genma orders sasuke to chase after gaara when the chunin exams blow up, saying “you’re at chunin level already,” which forces kakashi to immediately dispatch more kids to bring him back, because “ffs NO i do NOT want him out there doing that why the fuck would you tell him to do that?!” 

aoba runs his mouth off about itachi when sasuke is standing RIGHT THERE, instantly undoing all the work kakashi just did to prevent itachi and sasuke from coming anywhere near each other (and thus sending sasuke to that disastrous first encounter, the outcome of which ultimately leads to sasuke’s defection)

jiraiya decides he should let sasuke try to fight itachi himself, “out of respect for the boy’s feelings,” leading to sasuke ending up in a tsukuyomi coma

tsunade orders kakashi to drop his teaching work and leave the village on a mission even though a) he’s just gotten out of his own torture-induced coma and b) sasuke is having a crisis that kakashi is trying to manage

and then when kakashi gets back from that mission and finds out that surprise, all of this meddling has led to a disaster, tsunade tries to order him away AGAIN

but this time - he just says no.

he walks right out of her office.  he turns his back on her.  and there is NOTHING i love more than seeing kakashi embody the philosophy that he’s chosen to adopt as his guiding light: those who break the rules are scum.  but those who abandon their friends are worse than scum.

it’s not that he doesn’t understand where tsunade is coming from here.  but he knows she’s wrong.  she’s making her decisions based solely on concerns about the Leaf Village being in a tight spot - feeling like they can’t turn down missions because they’ll appear weak and thus become vulnerable to attack when they’re already operating at half strength.  she sends a group of twelve year-olds to bring sasuke back because supposedly the village can’t spare anyone else, “even if it means letting the sharingan fall into orochimaru’s hands” - but like.  it’s not the sharingan.  it’s a child.  sasuke isn’t just a repository for his hereditary jutsu; he’s not a pair of eyes to be passed around from one wielder to the next.  he’s a human child.  

tsunade doesn’t know sasuke.  she’s new to the situation and doesn’t know enough about it to understand how serious it is.  i don’t even think she was still in the village when the uchiha massacre occurred; the timeline makes it sound like she left long before that.  she doesn’t really understand who sasuke is or how much trouble he’s in - she makes her decision because she feels like her first priority has to be the well-being of the Leaf as a whole, not the individual people who comprise it.  kakashi, though, who a) lives his life by a very different philosophy and b) does understand sasuke’s situation, would not have dealt with the issue like this, and if the village had let him do his job from the beginning, things wouldn’t have gotten to this point in the first place.

kakashi is horrified that tsunade sent a bunch of twelve year-olds out to fight orochimaru’s ninja, and i think he’s also probably angry and/or frustrated about having been ordered out of the village in the first place.  he was dealing with the situation before tsunade sent him away.  he interrupted the fight between sasuke and naruto even though he himself had literally just gotten out of the hospital, and then he continued addressing the issue with sasuke privately (unlike jiraiya’s non-attempt to address it with naruto, when he said he was going to give naruto a talking-to but actually flaked out).  kakashi knew sasuke was struggling, and he was doing all the things a teacher is supposed to do to address it, but then he was ordered away, and even though it was just for two days, it was enough time for everything to go to hell.

if people would just let him do his job - if the administration would let him focus on the task they themselves assigned to him - things would be different.  but everybody wants him to do everything.  they want him to be everywhere.  they want him to protect the nine-tails jinchuriki (who is also kakashi’s dead teacher’s son), and train the last surviving uchiha (which is a task only kakashi and his sharingan can perform), and give equal attention to a third kid, for good measure, and they want him to do it without stepping away from any of his other burdens, all while other people around him constantly frustrate the progress he makes.

so this time, when tsunade tries to send him away, he refuses.  he disobeys her orders and walks out of the room.  he doesn’t care about the rules or what he’s “legally” obligated to do.  he knows what the RIGHT thing to do is, and so he rejects his new mission in favor of rescuing the kids.

i love these moments.  i love when we’re shown so clearly the person kakashi has chosen to be - someone who does what’s right, not just what he’s told.  he made an active choice many years ago to adopt that philosophy, and he’s been living by those new rules ever since.  he's wiser now than he was when he was a child - sometimes you have to break ranks to do the right thing.  sometimes you have to buck the system, even if it means you might face severe personal consequences.

he had one of two choices: either save the mission or his comrades.  of course, according to the law of the village, you cannot abandon a mission.  but to save the life of his comrades, he put the mission on hold.

kakashi may have spent a good chunk of his childhood trying to reject everything the subject of that story stood for, but none of his attempts to harden his heart ever stuck.  he is, in the end, his father’s son.

[imfluentinfangirlandgay]

Surprise Adoption - Ch 10

Ingo held the crying Dawn in his arms, considering his options. He decided right then and there. She would stay with him and Emmet for the time being.

Word Count: ~2500

The sun was nice after the twins removed their hats, prompting Dawn to do the same. They sat outside at a shaded table with their spoils in silence for some time. Both brothers knew she would say something when she got her thoughts in order. 

She did eventually. A good portion of their food was gone before she spoke. 

“That’s Barry.” She paused, trying to think of the words to say again. Both brothers watched her expectantly. “He’s been my best friend since I was four. He was my rival on my Pokemon journey. He never really thinks before he does things and is always running off one place or another, but he’s really loyal and sweet. He didn’t take my disappearance well. The one to Hisui, I mean. The minute I got back and he found me, he wouldn’t let me go for a while. But then I found out about Mom and he was so supportive and just there. When I realized that I needed to spend some time away, though… he didn’t take it well. He’d only just gotten me back. It’d be like if Uncle Ingo moved off to Alola within a week of coming back because something had happened to Aunt Elesa.” She paused again, lowering her gaze. “He tried so hard to get me to stay in Sinnoh. In the end, I just flew off on Staraptor in the middle of the night because Twinleaf was too much for me. I couldn’t sleep there at all. Not without Mom.” Her lip wobbled. “I ran off like a coward in the middle of the night and didn’t even say goodbye…” 

“Dawn,” Ingo said softly, reaching around the table to take her hand. Emmet laid his hand over her hand, too. “You did what you needed to in order to feel safe. I would not call that cowardice. You did what you needed to, even at the expense of others, because you knew it was not a decent schedule for you. That takes an awfully large amount of courage to do, especially when your best friend is involved.” He used his other hand to brush away her tears with his thumb. “He seems quite eager to speak with you. Perhaps, after our shift ends, if he is still in the Subway, we can lead him back to the apartment and all sit down and hear him out. I feel that he is just concerned about you. In addition, he is young and headstrong. I am sure he meant no ill-intent with his actions, he may just not understand the pain he is causing. This can be rectified later. Does that sound alright to you?” 

Dawn sniffled and bobbed her head in a small nod. She didn’t say anything as the two brothers wrapped her in a hug. 

“We should finish lunch,” Emmet said. “It is almost time to return.” 

“Would you like to spectate us on the Multi Line? Or would you rather return home for the evening?” Ingo asked Dawn. 

She sniffled again, but managed to get a deep breath in. “I don’t want to be alone. Is it okay if I stay with you guys?” 

“Of course!”

“Yup!” 

The three finished their meal quickly and paid. They left. The twins reapplied their caps as they made their way back to the Subway. They led the way inside, greeting the Depot Agents as they brushed past their office to make sure nothing was out-of-sorts and went to the Multi Line, right on schedule. Dawn was nervously glancing around the crowd. It broke Ingo’s heart. He ushered her onto the train, into their cabin, calling out announcements as the train lurched into action and sped off. 

—---------

The last challenger left the Multi Line. The train began to slow to a stop. Ingo and Emmet flanked Dawn immediately, who gripped their hands tightly. She let out a shaky breath. 

The doors opened. The three of them stepped off the train last, watching the patrons leave the subway in droves. Not many people were left in this terminal specifically, as the Battle Subway was closing for the evening. They all looked around, seeing if they could spot a blonde head in the crowd. When none was seen, they silently moved to the main archway of the Subway. People still milled about here and there, looking at the schedule for their pedestrian rides to get around Unova. They maneuvered around patrons, making their way to the control room for the final report of the day. The three entered. 

“Good evening!” Ingo called cheerily to the few remaining Agents. The night crew should be there soon, Ingo reasoned. 

“Hey, Bosses.” A young man strode over to them with a clipboard, recording the stats and events of the Subway from the day. Ingo took it and glanced over it, Emmet peering over his shoulder. All seemed to be in order. “There wasn’t much that happened today, though one of the Agents mentioned something for you two.” 

“What is it?” Emmet looked up at the man. 

“She said there was a boy looking for you. He asked when you were off and said that you’d told him to talk to you after work. He’s on a bench just outside the entrance. He has a Torterra with him, too. I think he’s still sitting there.” The worker ran over and tapped on a screen, pulling up a live video footage of the entrance to the Subway. In the bottom left corner of the video was a familiar striped shirt and blonde head. “Yeah, he is.” 

“We did wish to speak with him, he is a friend of Akari’s. Thank you. We shall take our leave for the evening.” Ingo nodded politely at the Agents left in the room and turned, leaving with his brother and niece. She clung to them still. 

“Wh-what if he’s really mad at me? What if he just came to tell me he hates me-”

“Akari, I sincerely doubt that. He was hugging you quite fiercely when he saw you. I believe he is just concerned.” Ingo squeezed her hand. 

“Yep. He was upset, but not at you. He seems confused. He wants to help you but doesn’t know how,” Emmet added. 

“I hope so,” she murmured as they got to the upper exit of the Subway. 

Ingo and Emmet pushed open the doors to the outside, breathing in the night air of Nimbasa. It was warm with summer approaching so rapidly. A couple Trubbish still hung around. Ingo waved to the young ones as he passed by. He always had a soft spot for the creatures. “What would we like for dinner this evening?” he asked nonchalantly, in order to gain Barry’s attention. 

And gain it he had, apparently. “Hey!” Footsteps approached and there was a hiss and a light as a Pokemon was recalled. The three of them turned to see the boy running at them, skidding to a halt a couple paces from them. He looked at Dawn for a long moment, then glanced between the twins. “I just want to talk. Please.” 

“Of course,” Ingo quipped. “First, however, we should get something to refuel with. I know I am rather famished.” 

“We should get pizza from that spot on Ninth. It is on the way,” Emmet said as he began to walk, this time with another passenger trailing behind them. 

“I’d prefer the one on Sycamore.” 

“We always get the one on Sycamore!” Emmet whined. 

“Akari? Is there anything you would like?” Ingo looked down at his niece to settle the dispute. That was one of the many, many reasons it was nice to have her around. The twins would no longer go back and forth for long, drawn-on minutes about what to eat anymore. 

“Could we grab something from that Kalosian place? The one with the really good macarons? I don’t think we’ve had that in awhile.” 

“That sounds agreeable,” Emmet said with a sly grin. 

“Alright, then. Destination set!” The twins began walking with more pep in their step, Dawn having to jog to keep up. The brothers made eye contact and Emmet grinned. This was fun. 

They got food in record time, also buying some for Barry. Never would a passenger go hungry on their watch! Ingo made Emmet carry their purchase this time as they approached the apartment building, walking up the flight of stairs and unlocking the door, allowing everyone in. Emmet beelined for the kitchen table, tossing down the bags of food. Then he returned to the main room to disrobe his uniform. Ingo clicked his tongue at his brother and untied his tie as Emmet did the same for him. Dawn toed off her shoes and denim jacket, hanging them on the hook meant for her. Fraxure popped out of its ball once it sensed they were home, its metal body sparkling as it lumbered to her and rubbed its forehead against her arm. It made her laugh and rub its head. 

Once they were a bit more comfortable, they went back to the kitchen. The whole time, Barry stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do, nervously glancing around at the decor and the Joltik gathering around. Dawn gestured him into the dining area. 

Ingo and Emmet divvied up food, shooing Joltik away from the plates. “I will feed you after we eat, babies,” Emmet cooed to them. Regardless, some of them burrowed their way into hair, clothing, and onto counters. Ingo picked one up and placed it on his shoulder, scolding it for trying to get into his meal. 

They all sat and dug in. Barry seemed to like his choice and downed it quickly. Ingo and Emmet ate at their usual pace, with Dawn outspeeding them as always. They ate quickly and quietly. The entire time, Barry said not a word. He simply… watched. Ingo gave Dawn one of his macarons, as it was her favorite flavor. Emmet patted one of the Joltik and excitedly discussed one of the challengers from that day. “He had a Galvantula! I recognized that Trainer. He fought us five years ago! He nearly won, too. I gave him that Joltik and it knew Cross Poison! He put it to good use today, yup. It seemed verrry strong!” Dawn said very little, but did chime in every so often. Ingo and Emmet led much of the conversation. Neither of them minded much. 

“So,” Ingo spoke finally as they were finishing, “would you like us to give you some privacy? Me and Emmet can withdraw for the evening if you would like.” 

“I think it’s okay,” Dawn said quickly, before Barry could speak. “You already know most of it anyway.” 

Ingo understood what she was really saying. Emmet’s voice cut over him, “I will feed the Pokemon. Would you like me to feed yours, Dawn?” 

She nodded and handed him her Pokeballs, Fraxure following close behind Emmet’s heels as he whistled to the Joltik. All of them scurried out of the room, following him as well. Emmet was only gone for a few minutes, during which Ingo cleaned up from dinner. Dawn insisted on helping with clean-up. Barry continued to sit and stare around the room, unsure of what to do. 

Emmet returned as the pair finished cleaning and they all sat back down at the table. All was completely silent. Ingo could practically smell how awkward it was. 

“Barry, you’re never this quiet.” Dawn broke the silence first. 

“What am I supposed to say?” he asked quietly. “You seem happier here.” 

“Stop.” He looked up at the anger in her voice. “It’s not like that and you know it. I didn’t just up and leave on a whim.” 

“You still left, though!” He turned in his seat to face her. “I’d just gotten you back for a week and you still left! No goodbye, no telling where you would be. You just dropped off the planet again! I was worried that you’d been taken back in time again! Or worse! I was so worried about you, Dawn! I was the first time you disappeared, too! I looked everywhere for you and you were just nowhere and I was so scared it’d just be a repeat of that-”

“Barry, would you just listen to me!” Her voice drowned out his. He shut his mouth with a clack, holding back tears. “I couldn’t stay in Sinnoh. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going, but I didn’t want to be dragged back. I can’t go home.”

“But why?” He wrapped his arms around himself, still struggling to hold back his tears. “It’s right there. You have a place to stay. Why can’t you come home?” 

“Because it’s not the same anymore.” She looked away from him. “I spent so much time in the past that now all I can think about is the people who are all gone, when we used to walk the same paths and routes. All the people I became friends with in Jubilife two-hundred years ago. I can’t go there without thinking about how I’ll never see them again. When I found out Mom was gone, everything changed for me again. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her either. And everything in Twinleaf, in Hearthome, everything was so full of her and it hurt. I couldn’t just stay there and be reminded everyday. I had to leave. But I know Cynthia wouldn’t like it and you wouldn’t want me to leave and might stop me. I had to do what was best for me.” 

He did not speak for a long moment. He sniffled and a single tear traced its way down his face. “I missed you, Dawn,” was all he said. 

“I missed you too, Barry. I still do.” She reached out and gingerly touched his shoulder. “I want to see my friend again. I really, really do. But I can’t do it in Sinnoh. I just can’t. I’m sorry, Barry. But I can’t go back. I have a place here now and I like it here. Everyone is nice and I feel like I have a real family again and I’m not alone.” 

“You weren’t alone.” His response was weak. “We were there…”

“But you aren’t my family, Barry. You’re my best friend and I still don’t really know your mom all that well.” 

He was quiet again for some time. The twins said nothing, allowing them to have this moment. “So who are you?” the boy asked finally, looking up at the twins. 

“My name is Ingo. I fell to Hisui some time before Dawn did from here and lost all my memories in the process. As foreigners, we both bonded well and Dawn not only helped me restore my memories, but she allowed me a way home.” 

“I am Emmet. I am Ingo’s twin brother. He was missing for four years. I would not have him back if not for Dawn.” 

Barry watched the two of them for a moment longer. 

“I call them my uncles,” Dawn said quietly. “They took me in without notice and have been so kind and supportive. They have a sister, too, who treats me like part of the family. So does their uncle and cousin. They’re all really kind and I feel like I belong here.” 

Barry tackled her in a hug. He was not holding back his tears anymore. “I… I’m gonna miss you, Dawn. But I’m gonna visit, okay? I want to see you often and battle you again. I don’t care if its in Sinnoh or Unova or Galar, I just want to see you. You can show me around Unova sometime. Maybe we can battle again, like we did with Team Galactic.”

Dawn smiled. She hugged her friend back. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

The twins stood and patted the two teens on the shoulders, making them look up. Emmet smiled softly at them as Ingo spoke. “We will be in our room if you need anything. Barry, you are welcome to stay the night. We have an extra change of clothes if you require them. The bathroom is the second room on the left down the hall, Dawn can show you where it is.” 

His eyes widened. “Oh… thank you. Thank you very much.” 

“Of course!” Emmet chirped. The brothers receded to allow them a moment of privacy, now that the hard part had passed. Their Pokemon were waiting in their room, waiting for the door to be opened. 

“Go cheer Dawn up,” Emmet whispered to them. “She needs it.” Many of them bolted out of the room immediately, eager to see their Trainer. The twins got ready for bed. They’d be there for her, as they said they would be. 

[Start] - [Previous] - [Next]

[world-of-horrors-au]

Horrors AU - Into the Wolves’ Den

Part 2 of the ‘Briar VS Proxies’ story. Part 1 here.

TW: mentions of violence, ask to tag

No one ever told her proxies were as strong as Horrors. There was no way to pull away from Hoodie's grip. Not that she wanted to try. The moonlight glinted off the rifle in his other hand. He'd been willing to use it before on her. Even if she somehow got away, he'd shoot her down before she could get far. And then, what would happen to her? Would he carry her away? Or would he shoot her in the head? Even a Horror couldn't survive that.

Briar had no choice but to follow him wherever he was taking her.

They were the loudest things in the Forest. More her than him. Hoodie dodged past trees and avoided branches with skilled practice. Everything broke under Briar's feet. She was trained to sneak through buildings, not nature. If it annoyed Hoodie, he didn't say it. He didn't say anything to her at all.

She drew in a breath, tasting the wood and heat in the air.

"Are you going to kill me?" Briar asked.

"Shut up," Hoodie said. The iron grip tightened, and she cringed. "No," he added, his grip relaxing. "But if you don't do what we want, you'll wish we would."

Swallowing, Briar nodded. Do what they want. Do whatever they wanted. What other choice did she have? They could hurt the others if she acted out. He says they wouldn't kill her, but that didn't mean much. Jeff taught her all about the things you could do to someone without killing them.

Oh, Jeff… her heart ached at the thought of her mentor. If only she'd listened to him. 

“Please,” she said, looking at him. “Something’s wrong. Do you know where-”

“Are you deaf?” Hoodie snapped. “I said shut up!”

Briar flinched away. Hoodie took a deep breath.

“I’ve noticed it too,” He said, in a steady, growling voice. “I know your friends are gone. But it’s not my job to care about them. I have my orders, and they involve getting you taken care of.”

She shuddered. 

“If you say anything else,” Hoodie said, tone darkening, “Without me addressing you first, I’m going to break your leg and make you walk the rest of the way there. Keep your mouth shut. Got it?”

Images of her teenage years flashed through her head. When she was fifteen, she’d dislocated her knee at a survivor’s camp. The camp’s major decided the injury was her own fault, and told the medics not to help her. The next two weeks were agony, Briar barely able to move, but still forced to walk and stand and sit with the others. They told her the pain was her weakness leaving her body. It was only when they were short on hands that the major decided to have her knee popped into place to help build the security wall. Her biological family wasn’t there to help her, just like her real family wasn’t here to save her now.

She’d never forgotten what it was like to dislocate her knee. And breaking a leg was worse. Now her body healed faster than before, so it wouldn’t be two weeks of suffering, but if she could avoid any extra pain… Was that considered cowardice? Then she must be a coward.

Briar nodded. Hoodie snorted, yanked her forward, and walked faster through the trees. She forced herself to keep up.

She knew the Forest was massive, and maybe it was the fear talking, but this walk seemed to take longer than any she'd taken before. The silence hurt. All the questions she had circled through her head, like echoes. She wanted Jeff. She wanted Eyeless Jack and Ben, and Laughing Jack, too, even if he drove her crazy. What was she going to do? How was she going to survive this? She should've listened to Jeff…

Through the trees, light caught her eye. Briar tensed, refocusing her attention. Wherever he was taking her must be up ahead, and if she got out and wanted to find it again, she had to focus.

She wasn't prepared for it.

Briar had only seen buildings as big as this in the cities. She'd heard about old manors, pre-fall mansions, that could've housed over twenty people, and employed over fifty just to take care of it. Huge and gray, it stood as tall as the trees, three stories of windows and balconies, carved monsters perched on the roof, beautiful and hideous, a disaster of design and existence. It shouldn't still be standing, ivy clutching every wall, glass windows shattered or missing. The wood was rotting, the brick crumbling. And yet there were lights on, she could see them shine by either side of the front door. How? 

Her feet almost stumbled on the first stone but Hoodie didn't let her fall, hauling her up and forward. Briar's stomach twisted, looking down at her shoes as they stumbled over the once impressive pavement, now overgrown with weeds and grass.

They live here, Briar thought. Like Jeff told me.

Hoodie was taking her to the other proxies, and what was going to happen to her then? Would they tear her apart like they did when they executed a Horror? Or would it be a slow torture, a gradual fall into despair, or worse? 

As they stepped up the stairs, someone laughed from the inside. Briar inhaled the hot summer air and bit her lip. She couldn’t show fear. She had to be like Jeff. But as Hoodie yanked the door open, and a cold breeze slammed into her face, Briar realized a stoney expression wasn’t going to happen.

The entry hall went silent as they crossed into the manor. Goosebumps pricked along her skin, Briar shivering in the sudden chill. She didn’t look up at the assembled proxies but she felt their eyes, their surprise, on her. Briar kept her eyes to the floor, following Hoodie as he led her deeper into the manor without a word to his allies. He bypassed the stairs, heading down a hall, and behind them, footsteps followed.

She only looked up when they came to a stop. A generic brown door stood in front of her. Hoodie yanked it open. Releasing her arm, he shoved her back, hard enough to bruise. Crying out, Briar fell into the room, hitting the dirty floor with a pained yelp. A shadow fell over her, and with a click she could feel, gloved hands removed the handcuffs. The shadow straightened again and behind her, the door slammed shut. She twisted to look over her shoulder just in time to hear something lock.

“That takes care of that,” Hoodie said on the other side. “For now.”

“What the hell are you thinking?!” A man shouted. “Why did you bring her here?!”

“You know damn well why I did, Masky,” Hoodie replied. “She’s not going to give us any more problems now. The plan can continue without being interrupted for the third fucking time.”

Briar pushed herself up to her hands and knees, turning to press against the door to listen.

“So you kidnapped her,” the man replied, the anger burning in his voice. “To get her out of the way.”

“We’re not keeping her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Hoodie said. “She’s not a pet. We teach her a lesson about minding her own business, finish the plan, and let her go. She’s smart. She’ll learn.”

“Hoodie, how are we going to feed her? We barely have enough food for ourselves,” Masky said. “And none of our dungeons are ready for prisoners. The only one with a shower is still wrecked after Toby’s bullshit.”

“I said I’d fix it!” A third, younger male voice said, and Briar winced. “I’ve got the stuff. I just don’t have enough hands.”

“Could’ve said you needed help,” Masky said.

“Easy,” Hoodie warned. “Beastie, Skully, you’re going to help Toby fix the dungeon. Kate, you’re going to get her supplies. Masky, you and I are going grocery shopping - tomorrow. We don’t need to worry about her tonight.”

“Thank the reaper,” a woman, Kate presumably, said in a dry voice.

“We’re just going to leave her in there all night?” Masky said.

“Yeah,” Hoodie said. “She’s a Horror, she’ll manage. Though since you give a shit, you get first dibs.”

“What? No!” Masky said.

“Shut up, I’m being nice. The rest of you have to wait your turns, got it?”

The group beyond the door grumbled, their voices blending together to the point Briar couldn’t understand what they were saying. Their voices joined with their footsteps, fading into the silence that surrounded her. Briar pulled away from the door.

She wasn’t in a big room. Actually, it was probably a large closet. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as she listened to the conversation, but looking around revealed very little. A few empty boxes, a pile of rags in the corner, that was it. And it wasn’t any warmer than the entryway had been.

Briar leaned against the door and hugged herself. Her eyes closed. They weren’t going to kill her. They’d let her go but only after they’d ‘taught her a lesson’, a phrase she’d heard before in her life, and it never failed to make her sick to her stomach. A long term stay, long enough to need food, supplies, a bathroom. God, how could she have let herself be captured? What was she going to do?

Still hugging herself, Briar pulled away from the door and paced. Whatever the proxies were going to do to her, it would hurt, and there wasn’t much she could do about it. They wanted revenge - but for what? She’d only seen the proxies in passing outside of skirmishes in and out of the Forest. Had she angered them somehow? They acted like she knew what she was doing the whole time, but she couldn’t think of anything she’d done to them. She certainly never attacked first, and if she learned about a plan, she wouldn’t try to stop it, she’d try to learn more about it and tell the others.

The others… Briar wiped a hand over her face. The men she loved, and who loved her and each other. Where were they right now? Were they hurt? Were they captured? Were they… dead? No, she wouldn’t think about that, she wouldn’t even consider that. They couldn’t be dead, and they weren’t going to die. They survived the Horrors War, whatever happened, they could survive. And she could survive this ordeal, even if it hurt.

She pressed her forehead against the cold, off white wall. The hardest part would be sleeping, if she could, was allowed, to sleep at all. It’d been months since she last slept alone. There was nothing sexual about it, Horrors cuddled when they slept, a tangle of limbs and breathing under the sheets. Usually it was Jeff, sleeping next to her back to back. Sometimes it was Eyeless Jack, with Jeff or alone with her. Laughing Jack rolled on top of her sometimes in the night, his body as light as a teddy bear. Ben didn’t sleep but he’d let her put her head in his lap while he played his games. And when they could, they’d all pile into her bed at once. And it was nice. It was right.

The tears burned her eyes. There was no one to see them, but she fought them at first. But her body always won. The tears flowed down, hot against her chilled skin. Briar swallowed a sob. She couldn’t let them hear her, she wouldn’t give them that pleasure. 

Stumbling towards the pile of rags, Briar collapsed into it, leaning into the corner behind her. She covered her face with both hands, and let herself hurt.

I’ll get out, she comforted herself as she wept in silence. This isn’t my end. I’ll get out.

And if the eyes watching from the darkness judged her for crying, they were quiet about it.

[cannibal-wings]

Dark Cravings? It be cool to know how it was going to continue. Loved that fic so much.

Ask and you shall receive my friend!

Dark Cravings is not an abandoned project. I still very much do intend to continue it and work has already started on the next chapter. However, its not a whole lot of work, so I don’t have too much to share.

If you’re interested in a very light spoiler rundown of the plot, I can tell you that after things start turning terrible for Nate, cravings wise, they end up fleeing the Commonwealth and heading to the Capital Wasteland. Why? Well, MacCready seemed to recall a little group of people who called themselves “vampires” and might hold the key to figuring out how to get Nate under control.

The new pacing plan for the fic is to have one more chapter for Nate’s downward spiral, as he starts losing control and wanting to eat people. Then a chapter for when they are forced out of the Commonwealth due to SPOILERS and travel to the Capital Wasteland. Then two more final chapters for Nate’s stay with the Family, and some relationship drama and other Capital Wasteland things, like Mac going to his homestead to visit Duncan, stuff like that. One of the reasons I felt stuck with this fic was that I had planned for it to be only three chapters, but the amount of content I wanted to put in the story couldn’t fit and I got anxious over the idea of a fifty page update, so I just... didn’t write it... So now I’ll be doing shorter chapters. (I’m esp excited cuz I started to replay Fallout 4 and 3 so I’m back in the world and thinking about it a lot) Here’s a snippet from the next chapter since I’m amazed people are still waiting for more despite a two year silence.

Jamaica Plain was a quiet town now. News of the treasure being worthless drove the raiders away, and those stupid enough to still try and invade were torn apart by well placed turrets. Even the feral ghouls had cleared out of the ruins, leaving it a dull settlement in the middle of a turbulent region. This suited Nate’s needs just fine. The Minutemen needed a settlement they could deploy out of that wasn’t infested with mirelurks or built in a swamp. It would never be the trading hub that Starlight was turning into, and it didn’t have the agricultural power Sunshine had, but there were buildings to re-purpose, space for shelters, shops and crafting, and a small dot of land for farming. It was a better choice than their alternatives, and its newfound quiet was an extra boon for the Railroad who ran a safehouse nearby. Nate had just finished his rounds, talked to locals and the Minutemen he left in charge of the barracks on this end. Word on the radio was that the caravan containing the shipments he ordered back in Diamond City were in route and would arrive at Warwick shortly after they did. He discussed increased patrols to keep down the mirelurk populations after hatching season and even approved transport of one mini nuke from the Castle to the command here in case a queen was spotted. Better safe than sorry and Nate wasn’t willing to risk losing another settlement. He wasn’t going to underestimate nature like the General before him. He wandered into the bar, X Marks the Spot, and found Hancock sitting at the counter. His husband was in the middle of spinning a wild tale that was mostly true. Nearly everyone was drunk and Hancock was a hell of a storyteller, they were on the edge of their seats listening. The place smelled of cheap booze and even cheaper food, and much to Nate’s annoyance, appetizing human. He licked his lips and shook his head before he approached Hancock. “I hate to butt into this very important story, but have you seen MacCready anywhere? I thought he’d be here with you, he doesn’t pass up a chance to drink.” Hancock turned to him, only the slightest frown on his features. “Yeah, he’s in his favorite place.” When Nate only cocked his head, he elaborated, “He’s in the nest, church tower, you know...” “Yeah, I do. Thanks.” It’s where MacCready went to be alone, where he liked to think. He left Hancock to his story and walked back outside. The night air was cool and crisp and smelled faintly of swamp from the south. He looked over at the ruined church that towered over the little town. He wondered if the church was imposing on purpose. He supposed it was, religion could be like that. He climbed the stairs and found MacCready sitting on the edge of the bell tower half wall. His sniper rifle was by his side, hat hung up on a nail close by. The only light was the moon and a candle. “Hey,” Nate said, lamely. “Hey,” he replied back, even lamer. “We should talk,” Nate started. “You can see Quincy from here,” MacCready said at the same time. Nate swallowed, hard. “Yeah.” “It’s hard,” MacCready said, his eyes distant. “Every time we come here, every time I look out over the Wasteland I see it. My sins spitting right back in my face. You know how many times I tried to tell you? How many times I hesitated? How many times I bowed to cowardice because I didn’t want to be the kind of man you’d be disappointed in?” “I’m not disappointed in you, you know that right?” “Well you should be.”

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 41 Interlude: The Drake At Bay

Read on AO3

-----------------------------

Denerim stood mired in autumn, miserable with the fog and lashing rain that always arrived with the beginning of Harvestmere. People hunched under their cloaks as they walked the streets, gnawed at by the cold and by the worry of the coming winter, the war, and the blockade of Clayne ships that kept the harbour locked to any new supplies. Loghain shuttered the king’s study against them. He drew the curtains across the windows to fox prying eyes, kept the lamps low so that the details of his plans could not be read from a distance. He muttered to himself as he pored over maps and diagrams and letters. The guttering flame of the tallow candle at his side gleamed against the deep green of the locket stone ever-present around his neck. The raids on their supplies from the north, Cailan’s use of Orlesian mercenaries, the banns defecting to the flank of his upstart pet Falcon – all required countermeasures, and his forces were running out of resources to provide them. Why could they not see what he was trying to do? Was the Occupation so long ago they had forgotten what Orlais had done? Even the people now grumbled their discontent, when their argument should not be with him but with the teyrna and the king’s bastard brother who had convinced the Clayne to turn against them. Caladrius, now robbed of his business in the alienage, had gone to bolster the defences at South Reach, but even so, the shadow of defeat hung heavy on his mind. Only Erimond’s repeated cautions and his own failing health kept him from taking to the field himself, but for the good of Ferelden, he would see the war through. He must.

The door of the study groaned open, spilling daylight across the desk.

“Close it behind you,” he snapped, without looking up.

“Of course, Sire.” Howe. The man only ever brought him bad news, or excuses.

“What is it this time?” He looked up, finally, to see his counterpart watching him, in the manner a cat might watch a snake. It brought a flare of anger to the pit of his stomach. If he was unkempt, it was the incompetencies of his adjutants that forced him to sacrifice his personal comfort. He was well aware of his three days’ scruff, his rumpled clothes, and the flyaway braids at his temples, but what did they matter when everything he had worked for was falling apart?

“Am I interrupting?” Howe asked.

“If you were, I’d have you thrown out,” he retorted. “What news?”

The arl pursed his lips. “South Reach has fallen, my liege. It seems that His Majesty preferred for it to be levelled entirely than to stay in our hands. Or, I should say, the Cousland girl preferred it.” The sour note in his voice did not go unnoticed, but Loghain let him have his moment. “Bann Garric of Rillside fell in the attack, and there’s been no word since. It’s likely that his son will turn back and throw his weight behind the king.”

The headache pulsed harder behind Loghain’s eyes. “Let him. He is a coward like the rest, and blind to what we are trying to do. We can do without him.”

“Sire, I’m not sure you understand. Our forces are dwindling, and without supplies from the north we will have to –”

The teyrn rounded on him. “Did I not prevail at the battle of River Dane?” He snarled. “Was I not the one who saved Maric’s rebellion from failure and drove the Orlesians out of Ferelden despite the overwhelming odds against us? You might have sat out the Occupation as an invalid, but I did not. Do not presume to think you know more of battle than me. We have more powerful allies than one panicked Bann who cannot see beyond his own comfort.”

Howe bared his teeth in what might generously be called a conciliatory smile. “Then I hope they avail themselves soon, my liege, because I have other intelligence. The Cousland girl should not have been at South Reach. Our previous accounts had her at Hestley. It is uncharacteristic for her to leave an engagement before the dust has settled, and yet matters in the bannorn were barely settled before she was moving.”

“If you have a point, reach it quickly.”

“Yes, my liege. Such behaviour would suggest intelligence reached them of Caladrius’ plans. It seems your suspicions about a spy in our midst have proven correct.”

Frowning, Loghain returned his attention to the papers on the king’s desk, teeth gritted against the surge of pain in his temples. A spy. Betrayal. Such a discovery explained much about recent events, the defeats and the turn of backs to the cause. He should have listened to the voice in the back of his mind that told him to root out the traitors, to make examples and take vengeance on those who could not see the scope of what he was trying to accomplish. With so much held in the balance, leniency had been a mistake. But, he reasoned, there were times when errors in judgement might present new opportunities.

“You would only bring me this information if you knew who it was,” he said, narrowly regarding the man before him. He was a polecat, slippery in his machinations, never direct when he could twist around a subject to his best advantage. Even now he hesitated, chewing over his words with a venomous little smile playing over his mouth.

“A name, Howe, before I take your silence for an admission of guilt.”

Howe licked his lips. “I have reason to suspect it’s the queen, Sire.”

“You expect me to swallow the idea that my own daughter would betray me?” Loghain snarled, reaching for the comfort the locket provided him. It was cool to the touch, grounding. “Anora is the one person whose loyalty I would never question. Yours, however...”

“Your faith in her is an entirely understandable sentiment sire,” came the silky reply. “But I fear she has taken advantage of the – uh – blind spot where she is concerned.” He held out a square of thick white paper bearing the cracked seal of the Dove in gold wax. “An agent of mine observed her giving this to a servant. When questioned, the boy confessed that this same exchange had happened on a number of previous occasions.”

Scowling, Loghain accepted the letter. The front was addressed formally, to His Majesty Cailan Theirin, in the careful, flowing lines of Anora’s hand, and when he unfolded the sheet within and held it to the light, that script too was unmistakeable. She spoke freely about the situation in Denerim and the alienage, and the new requisition laws in place across Amaranthine, Highever, and Dragon’s Peak. The details were incomplete, but if this were only the latest in a string of letters, it might be enough to paint a full picture of the army’s movements for the enemy to exploit. Still he held out hope that perhaps the letter was an elaborate forgery, a subterfuge by the real traitor to implicate his most loyal supporter, but the further he read, the sterner his brows contracted, the tighter he gripped the paper until the edges creased under the pressure of his fingers.

Every day here the situation grows more restless. My refusal to participate in the Landsmeet and approve my father’s measures results in ever lower moods. He is a man stretched beyond the limits any should endure and I pray you will think of this when the time must come for reconciliation. As always, I write in hopes of a swifter end to this war and a surer peace beyond it.

“What of the servant you interrogated?” he asked, to distract himself from the signature looped at the bottom of the page.

Howe sighed. “Unfortunately, he was reticent, and succumbed before my questioning was complete.”

“Then you were careless.” He reeled back to his maps, the letter scrunched in his fist so the warmed wax squelched between his fingers. His blood roared in his ears as his mind cast back to conversation after conversation with his daughter, his pride in her eloquence before the council of advisors and his annoyance whenever she tried to coddle him. And all this time... was there nothing left Cailan had not poisoned against him?  

“And what else?” he snapped when he realised Howe was still standing behind him. “Have you yet to tell me my horse plots against me as well? Get out of my sight.”

“Sire,” the arl began, “this is a matter that requires action. My information hints at a whole network of spies within the castle and the city, people whose loyalty lies with Her Majesty and who would work against you. Simply barring her from your war councils will not be enough to stop this.”

“And what would you suggest, that I send her back to Gwaren? I would not risk her there, to be dangled in front of Cailan’s pet like a mouse.”

“Of course not.” The answer came measured, rehearsed. Sly. “But moving her out of the city and away from her support would be wise, for her safety as well as for our peace of mind, now that South Reach has fallen. Somewhere more thoroughly under our control, perhaps?”

Loghain did not answer. The plot unfolded before him perfectly. Howe wanted Anora in Amaranthine, surrounded by people loyal to the Bear before the Drake, who wouldn’t hesitate to harm her if given the word, where she could be held to ransom against either side depending on which way the tide turned. When he had encouraged the arl’s attack against the Couslands, it was the man’s cowardice he had manipulated to bring him to heel, the sour greed that had festered in the shadow of his neighbour’s prosperity. It had never been true loyalty, but then it was far more predictable.

The map of the North lay before him, the rebellion’s continually shrinking territory marked on it like the growth rings on a felled tree, and to the west, the line of the Frostbacks holding back the wolves waiting to devour whatever remained when the dust cleared. If his dreams for a free Ferelden were to be saved from the quagmire of blood washing across the Bannorn, he needed the king, and the Teyrna of Highever. They were the supports holding the royalist side; without their clear leadership, their cause would crumble. Afterwards, Maric’s bastard – this Alistair – would fall into step easily enough.

“I will think about this,” he said to Howe. “You may leave.”

He didn’t pay attention to the rustle and creak behind him as he was left alone. His mind was already turning over the potentials of the problem. What he needed was a trap, with bait too tempting to be ignored by either the king or the teyrna. Caladrius’ failure at South Reach was unfortunate, but a good commander never put too much faith in a single outcome, and instead learned to use even defeat to an advantage. His enemies’ victory would make them bold, liable to be pushed into an engagement.

And then there was Howe. His spiteful ambitions had already clouded his judgement once, permitting Fergus Cousland’s survival for the sake of vanity when the whole too-good family should have been put out of its misery in the beginning. How ironic that the only thing keeping him leashed to the cause now was the consequence of failure, the knowledge that if the rebellion failed there would be no barrier between him and the unassuageable wrath of the Falcon. Her defeat would prove troublesome, though it was necessary – perhaps she might be turned, persuaded of Cailan’s folly in return for vengeance and her brother’s life.

A thought for another time. For now, there were other plans to set in motion, ones long-brewed and long hidden from even Anora. Erimond had planted the seed of the idea, pointed out that Cailan’s mages were under the command of Templars who answered to the Orlesian Divine.

“It always, always comes back to Orlais,” he muttered as he scrawled a new letter in the candlelight. “Untrustworthy then, untrustworthy now.”

Once the note was finished he dragged his fingers back through his hair and folded it under the black seal of the Drake and left the wax to cool while he tidied away the rest of the papers. In his head, he calculated. A day and a half for the raven to reach its destination, five days to muster; seven more and he would have a force ready to march out and bring Cailan to ground, and put an end to his resistance once and for all.

[elliesproblems]

To Whom it May Concern: Chapter Five

Running from Certain Death

Entry: November 13th, 2017

I hate that she has become this all capable being of my nightmares. Like a mean girl at highschool who can make the whole building her army at the flip of a coin. It doesn’t matter who is right and who is wrong. Loyalty doesn’t always mean good. But she was an awkward person, and I doubted any mean girl could have the power to change anyone's minds in mass like she did.

   It hurts to know that those you have come to trust can be a liability; that they are dependable as long as it doesn’t go against her grains. It’s been a year since it’s happened and still I don’t know why or how. Maybe it’s the not knowing that makes me think of her as all persuasive. I don’t know how she did it or why they all left me behind.

    Maybe it’s the not knowing that feeds the paranoia of it happening again. I knew she was drifting, I knew she was unhappy, but I could have never seen it all coming. It was series of believing that it couldn’t get any worse only for someone to punch me in the gut around the next corner.

    I’ve met the person that comes out when I’m on the cold concrete, and being stupid enough to believe that it can’t get worse. The girl that lived through it all; never saw the end of it. I shut it out and locked Jay alongside it. I got rid of it all to be able to breathe again. I lost it all, Jay included. It was as if I were orbiting alone, in the darkness; seeing them all together and happy, but never apart of it all. I’ve had my fair share of wanting to never be here, or wishing to not be alive, but they were always these abstract feelings. They were desires with no words to them.

    It was then that I actually felt the first want to die; not in a ‘no longer exist’ way, but in a ‘I want to feel the pain fade away from my body, and never have to look at any of their faces again’ way.

    Despite how angry I was with them, knowing that dying might very well be the only way for them to feel any remorse for blaming me. I was still more scared of the idea of wanting to prove a point with my blood than than the idea of them leaving me again. I was determined to prove them all wrong, but cowardice stopped me, and cowardice saved my life. In that long year, I learned to live without them all, and I made the biggest gap between me and all of them that I could manage, so the if she were to ever come back, none of them could hurt me. She could take them, there was no changing that, but at least this time I won’t need them. She did this to Jay but she could never touch me.

    Sometimes I hate myself for still caring about how little they value us. It’s old news, but still an ulcer. Sometimes I try to save myself from it.

    When it seems like I have nowhere else to turn and the only way to escape the walls that are both closing in so fast I can’t breathe, and the walls that are receding so fast that I could never catch up, it seems like the only option is to just punch your own ticket, and get the hell out of here.

    It would be the only way for them to regret what they did; and it would be the only way for closure. They are all at fault and then they would finally have to wear the weight of it.

    But I survived it the first time. Not a lot of me survived, but I'm here. Somehow. Now all that’s left is the fear of her coming back for round two, and I know that I will not last. I’ve come to terms with the weakness of my own mind.

    I’ve learned that wanting to disappear from the hands of your ‘loved’ ones is an addictive emotion that feeds the destructive fire bleeding into my actions as I grow to always be angry with their failure to see right from wrong. I blame them the way they blamed me, but there is one simple solution to satisfy the want to end it all. It ties over the feeling I get whenever I look over a railing for a little too long or when I take three pills where I only needed one.

    I can just disappear. I can drive off into the sunset and into the unknown because what I’ve known hasn’t been all that great. If this place that I am at is slowly killing me, then it’s only sensible to leave, kill the person I once was, and become another. I wanted to stand up and refuse to be someone I wasn't anymore. I wanted so badly to become someone she never met so I did. I wanted to become someone that wasn’t hurt by them, but I still was, and I never went through with it. I never demanded to be seen as someone else. I never had the funds before the feeling grew more violent and demanded more than a new persona.

November 13th, 2017

I’m too comfortable with how things are now, it makes me feel restless. I’m worried for the future and how many times I’ll have to compromise where most shouldn’t. I’m worried with how predictable I’ve become, and how I know my limit will be passed again.

I’ve learned to let go of T***. I was holding on for what was familiar rather than love. I’ve learned to be happy for him and the fact that his life is falling into place faster than anyone expected. But I worry for the possibility of her coming to the wedding. It’s haunted me enough quiet nights.

She has the ability to turn everyone against me, and even if she’s gone from my life, everyone I’ve ever talked to serves as a bridge to her. They’ll willingly bring her back, and I’ll lose what little footing I’ve gotten back,

I worry for how predictable I’ve become because I know what will become of me if she is given the second chance to do it again. Every foothold I’ve gained lacks the security and strengths of the friendships I once had. I’ve learned where they all stand when they look at me.

T*** will stay true until a better opportunity rolls around; I hope next time he won’t have to push me away to get to it. Even now, every missed meet up and late answers sends tremors through our poorly crafted makeup, made of nothing more than pretending nothing ever happened. He only came back once I learned to be content alone.

F**** will only pretend to be supportive, but will defend her no matter the cost. She digs for feelings, with only the intent to feed the information to her, congratulating her on a job well done. It’s only common sense not to trust F**** to have my well being in mind.

Dads support only goes as far as he can understand, and even then, there are a few things he won’t support regardless. He’s not as protective as I originally pegged him out to be. As long as nobody got physical or foul mouthed, he was willing to support her. Because he understood her side more than mine.

Mother was only fed F****s words, and she was easily the first to turn against me. I was made to appear crazy by the very person who drove me there.

I won’t be able to stand a second round even though it’s close approaching. She shows her face at the wedding, they all approach her with “I miss you’”s and “I haven’t seen you in a while”’s. They all know it’s because of me, and this time they won’t consider my well being. And if she can turn them against me the first time, when I believed that they were mine. I want to say I wont see the second time coming, but that was true for the first, and we all know, it will somehow always be worse.

I can’t outlive a second round. I hate to be dramatic, but I have to prepare.

I’ll be saving money to run off to Biloxi because I can’t kill myself if I’m in my happy place, right? I don’t know for how long. I might hide out there until I’ve become a missing person, or I may just live their until I emotionally level out.

And sure, it seems predictable, but none of them would waste the time to come looking for me anyways.

A note from the future, because sometimes your biggest fears are not as terrible as you think they are. Maybe there is a 'pleasantly surprised' to count on.

She is invited to the wedding. I knew in advance, T*** admitted himself that it had been a mistake, but the damage was done. She knew the date and the place, and had never been one for human decently to know she shouldn't have been welcomed.

The biggest surprise was that she wasn't.

T*** did not uninvite her. He didn't want to seem rude, he thought she would show up anyways, she was there when he got together with his now husband, he did want her there.

So I gave up. I didn't save anything because I was promised that I had nothing to fear, and I was part of the wedding, after all. He wanted me there. Just not badly enough. How could he be rude to her even through her putting him several thousand dollars in debt? How could he be rude to her even after all she's done to what he claims is his best friend?

I stayed home. I resigned my place, I gave up, I was not ready for the 'I miss you's and 'I haven't seen you in awhile’s, but I knew they were coming. I wasn't ready for round two, but I knew it was coming. I thought I knew, but I was wrong twice now.

Dad stayed home, F**** stayed home, E**** mom, all of them. I never gave a second to think that they would, but this time they stood by me. This time I wasn't on my own to be blamed.

[flowerpowell]

The Future (Part 3 of The Past) Chris x MC & Damien x MC

And here is the last part! Thank you for all your sweet comments, you probably have no idea but it makes me so happy seing how you like, reblog and comment on my fics! It was supposed to be only one fic that turned into a short series! Thank you everyone! It’s a weird, bittersweet feeling since my first mini series is ending. I really hope you’ll like the last part!

All rights go to Pixelberry, I do not own the characters. Rating: As per usual, normal, nothing scandalous

Perfect Match & The Junior crossover

Chris furiously packed his suitcase and cursed himself for being the cowardliest coward in the world of cowardice. Basically, he wasn’t happy with the conversation he didn’t have. But the word “friends” meant for him the end, they were after all just friends and she was happy with her investigator. He will not meddle in her life. If she’s happy he will be too. That’s all that matters. He closed the suitcase and left his hotel room. After giving back his key and calling a cab, he took his phone and unlocked it. There was one unread message. From Amy.

“Chris, is everything ok?”

Of course it wasn’t. Nothing was ok. He just lost the love of his life again. He quickly typed “Yes, don’t worry about me:)” and sent the message. What an idiot he was. He kicked a nearby bench but he immediately regretted that as pain overwhelmed his body. “Shit” he hissed as people around him looked at him with concern. “I’m fine!” he said and walked away to look for his cab. He had only 3 hours left in New York until his flight to Maine but he intended to spend them at the airport.

Damien entered the apartment and found his girlfriend already dressed and looking at her phone. “Is everything alright?” he asked, “You look worried.” She turned back at him, noticing him for the first time, “Oh hi! I don’t know really, there’s something wrong with Chris I think but he says he’s fine.” “Oh? Did he say something?” Damien asked. “No, actually no. He came here but didn’t say anything. I just found it weird.” She replied. Damien poured some water into his glass and drank it. It’s very weird, he thought. Why would he come here again? Did he have some business for my girlfriend? Amy came closer to Damien. “Are we still going to that dinner thing? I’m starving,” she smiled. He smiled back, “Of course. Let me just grab my stuff.” After a moment Damien came out from their bedroom with a new jacket on and his bag. “Shall we?” he asked. Amy nodded and he took her hand. Together, they reached her favorite place. Damien looked stealthily at her to see her reaction but she clearly had something else going on in her mind as her face didn’t express any emotion. Damien tried to hide his disappointment but hoped that the other part would go better.

The plane finally took off after the longest three hours Chris ever had to wait. He tried to shift his thoughts towards something else but they stubbornly kept coming back to Amy. He promised not to be a coward, to own up to his feelings. And what? He didn’t. And now he was running away. Again. Was he scared of the answer she could have for him? Was he scared of being rejected? Or maybe he was scared to change anything between them, especially now, when he finally had her back in his life. Chris put on his headphones and turned up the volume of his music. It’s gonna be a looong flight.

“Amy?” Damien looked up at his girlfriend barely touching the food she was given. She glanced at him. “I’m sorry” she shortly said. “I don’t feel well. I actually feel terrible. I’m really sorry,” she added. Damien smiled encouragingly, “Hey, don’t be. Do you wanna tell me what’s been bothering you?” Amy looked at her boyfriend.

She loved him. There was no question about it. She also knew he loved her too. And he was ready for another step with her whereas she thought she wasn’t. She felt tired with her mind, constantly thinking “what if.” She didn’t want to pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. She was confused and had some feelings for both, Damien and Chris. And no matter what Damien deserved to know. She wanted to be fair and honest with him even if that’d break her.

Cautiously, she asked, “Damien, do you see your future with me?” He was shocked at first. His mind went crazy, he thought something was coming and he wasn’t sure he was ready. “Yes, of course I do” he answered honestly, “Do you?” Amy closed her eyes. She had to tell him. It was hard but it’s the right thing to do. “Not sure” she whispered, eyes still shut down. After a moment she slowly opened them and saw Damien, stunned, not knowing what to say. “Is this because I did that stupid research?” he asked. “No! No. It’s just, I-I’m confused.” she said, “I love you Damien. So much. But you deserve to know, my feelings towards Chris they, they kinda came back. And even though he doesn’t feel the same, it’s just unfair to you if I acted as if nothing happened.”

Damien was silent, not sure how to respond. Deep, deep down he felt she might have still be in love with Chris but hearing that in reality was much worse. He touched his sleeve where a pretty sapphire engagement ring waited for the perfect moment. Which probably would never happen. “I’m really sorry Damien. I couldn’t just pretend I’m fine and be with you while thinking about him. I’m not like that.” Still no word from him. “Hey, look at me,” she reached her hand for him but he pulled it away. Tears formed in her eyes. She’s lost him. “Damien... I love you. I just wanted to be honest. This...feeling may go away, or it may not. I just need time to figure it out. I don’t want you to spend the rest your your amazing life with a wrong person.” “So you’re a wrong person?” he finally asked. “I don’t know Damien. That’s what I need to figure out. But I don’t want give you only 50% of me, you deserve 100%.” He nodded sadly, “I understand.”

After the dinner Damien insisted on sleeping at his friend’s house but Amy explained that she wasn’t breaking up with him, only taking some time and that their apartment is big enough to fit both of them. Because she felt awful she decided to take the coach giving Damien their bed for himself. “You know, as a gentleman I problably should decline and take the coach but as me, I think I pretty much deserved the bed,” he laughed. She was relieved he didn’t hate her. She still had an important decision to make but at least she was honest about it. With relatively clear mind she went to sleep.

Damien lied on the bed unable to sleep. One of his nightmares turned into reality. At least she told me. Not like Alana. He sighed. He loved Amy and he wanted her to be happy. It hurt him it wasn’t him who could give her that happiness. He was nervous. He didn’t want to lose her but acknowledged the fact that her love to Chris must have been very strong. And that the love may actually win. If she’s so confused that can only mean she never stopped loving him. And if he does love her back she would be happy. He sat down in the bed. He looked at his laptop. Dare he do this? Is this the right thing? He just wants her to be happy. And he realized no matter with who it would be. A single tear rolled down his cheek when the realization hit him. He was ready to confront Chris just to make her happy. And even as my best friend I want her in my life. He quickly typed some words into his computer and after few minutes had all the crucial information. He was going to talk to coach Christopher Powell. He just can’t see her so broken. Damien turned off the laptop and put his earphones in. He chose a random playlist made by Amy and started falling asleep. The song played and he recognized the words:

“I had all and then most of you      Some and now none of you        Take me back to the night we met”

He quickly changed the playlist into something more rock. He didn’t really want to cry into his beer by listening to some sad songs.

He woke up at five o’clock. Although the flight to Maine takes only hour and a half, or five hours of he wanted to drive, he wanted to be there as soon as possible. It’s not healthy, neither for him, nor for her to be kept in uncertainty. Quickly he wrote a note for her that he’d be out of town for a while. As quietly as he could possibly be, he left the apartment and drove to the airport.

Chris had a hard time. One, he met his love again. Two, she said she had a boyfriend. Three, he realized he still loved her. Four, he decided to tell her all about it. And five, he chickened out again and flew home without telling her anything. Congratulations Chris, you should’ve won some award for the biggest idiot on Earth. He was pacing back and forth in his house feeling antsy. He thought of calling her but realized it was stupid. No, she said we’re friends. It’s over. Oh boy, I’m so pathetic. He went to his bedroom and took his old photo album. Everyone always laughed at him when he was printing the photos and putting them into the album, like old people, but he actually enjoyed having them on paper. He found the first photos of him and Amy, their friends, photos from different parties, championships. Everything was easier then. He sighed and put the album back to the drawer. Next to the album, in the right corner, was the engagament ring he bought for Amy so many years ago and never had a chance to give it to her. He looked at it sadly and closed the drawer. It all belonged to the past. They’re in different places now. And maybe it was supposed to be that way.

“Powell! Open the door! I know you’re there! Open them or I’ll kick them down!” Damien yelled banging the door with his fist. He’s just arrived at Chris’s house and decided to announce himself by waking up the whole neighborhood. “What the hell? Damien? What on Earth are you doing here?” Chris opened the door, clearly shocked. “Oh, you opened. Good.” Damien smoothed his jacket. “Is Amy okay?” Chris asked concerned. “What? Yes, of course she is. But we need to talk.” And without any invitation he entered Chris’s house.

Amy tried to call Damien many times after she found the note. Did he leave me? I wouldn’t blame him if he did though. After Damien didn’t answer for the tenth time, Amy decided it’s time to finally work on her novel. Indescribable. Her first own novel. The only one she wrote all by herself. She was nearly finished with it, only two more chapters to go. She wanted to give the readers some sort of closure, what happened to the characters afterwards. They landed safely in New York and two best friends started dating. And then? And then, everything fucked up.

“I still don’t know what you’re doing here. Did Amy send you? What’s going on?” Chris stood in his living room while Damien found a comforable spot on Chris’s couch and sat down. “I came here to talk. Didn’t you hear when I said that?” Damien shook his head. “I did, I’m not sure I know if there’s anything we should talk about.” Chris crossed his arms and sat on a chair, keeping a distance from the intruder. “We need to talk Powell. About Amy. And you. About both of you actually.” Damien sighed. “I’ve checked. You’re not married, not divorced. No kids, stable job, good relations with family and friends--” What the hell? Did you investigate my life?! Does Amy know?” Chris was furious. Who was he and what did he want? “Calm down Powell, I did what I had to, she wouldn’t tell me anything.” “So? Why all this inquiry?” Chris asked.

Damien took a deep breath and started, “Look, I don’t know you and Amy never said a word about you until two days ago. But I know Amy and I know you guys have past. So my question is, do you still love her? Do you want to be with her? Is that why you came to New York?” “I-I--” Chris stuttered. What was he supposed to say? Yes, I’m love with your girlfriend? Yes, I wish you weren’t dating? What if he was a dangerous psychopath? How do you even talk to a psychopath? What if he burns my house like Beau burned that empty house? What if--

“No offence Powell, but I didn’t ask you for the date of the Civil War or the year of Hemingway’s Nobel Prize. I simply asked if you love her, is that hard to answer?” Damien looked at Chris, clearly annoyed. Yup, that guy is definitely a psychopath. “I’m not sure what do you want me to say?” Chris said quietly. “The truth, preferably. Listen, I love Amy, okay? And all I want for her is to be happy. Whether with me or not.” Damien felt something painful in his throat but went on, “She told me about your meeting, she told me you came to our apartment. I think I know what you wanted to say. And I know she feels something for you too. She told me that too. She’s confused and I want to make it clear. Do you love her?” Chris looked at Damien in disbelief but nodded. “I do. I never stopped actually. But I didn’t want to come between you two. I care about her happiness too.” Damien stood up and came closer to the book shelf. He needed a moment before speaking so that no one could see the water is his eyes. “I want you to tell her, you know, that you love her. She should know. She deserves to know.” “What about you? What if she wants to be with me, would you accept that?” Chris asked carefully. Damien wiped his eye, “As I said, her happiness is my greatest priority.”

After five hours of typing furiously the words she finally had both of her chapters finished. Finally! And it didn’t even take me that long. She read the ending to herself several times but she was happy with it. The writing helped to clear her mind. Amy decided to use the old-fashioned method her mom taught her when making decisions— list of pros and cons. Having everything on paper always gave her a sense of clarity. But the moment she wrote one of the two names she knew everything. She didn’t need any list. She knew what was right. What she wanted. And she decided to go for it. To fight for her fairytale. This time she needed to fight.

Damien left Chris’s house an hour later. Both men talked a lot about Amy and decided it would be the best if Chris came to New York with Damien. Damien thought a simple call would do the thing but Chris insisted on flying. “You can’t say all of that in a phone call! It needs to be a real conversation, eye to eye.” They were lucky as the flights were frequent and they didn’t have to wait too long. Damien was also relieved when he realized he didn’t have to sit next to Chris. He had nothing against him (except the part where Chris loves his girlfriend and goes to New York to tell her that and be with her) but he would rather sit with his thoughts only. In the meantime Chris was stressed as never. He didn’t know what to say, how to say it. He was scared of her reaction, and he still wasn’t fully aware of what just happened. But he did get it, Damien cared about Amy and he wanted her to be happy. He felt anxious and excited when he heard Amy felt something for him. It was like his wildest dreams came into reality. His precious Amy. He loved her so much. Even though he didn’t really like Damien, he was grateful for him to tell Chris everything. Now he saw a real chance. No more running away. Never.

Amy was just making a fifth cup of coffee when she heard Damien coming to their apartment. She left her mug on the counter and ran to the door standing face to face with her boyfriend. “Where were you? I was worried!” She exclaimed. “I wrote you a note, didn’t you get it?” “I did, and I also did call you many times. I understand why you’re avoiding me but a short message that you’re fine would be--” “I’m not avoiding you” Damien interrupted her. “But there’s someone you need to talk to first.” She took a step back. “But--” “Amy.” He looked at her. “I love you. Remember that. But you need to confront your past and your thoughts. You deserve to be happy.” Her phone buzzed. The text was from Chris. “Can we meet up in that cafe? It’s important.” She looked at Damien. He was already pouring some whiskey. She was torn. She wanted to talk to Damien but also needed to talk with Chris. Ugh why my life likes to be that complicated. “Listen, I’ll be back soon, so please wait for me okay?” Amy asked Damien while putting on her shoes. “Sure.” When she left the apartment, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Wait, wait, Damien came there, to Maine for you?!” “Well, yes, but Amy, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Please listen to me. It’s important.” He pleaded. Amy sat down, still shocked and turned her face towards him. “Amy...yesterday, when I came into your apartment I didn’t come to wish you happy birthday. I wanted to say how much I still love you. And how much I wish I told you that sooner.” She inhaled sharply. Is she dreaming? Is he saying that for real? She was lost in thought when Chris was talking about his graduation plans, when he mentioned the proposal she had tears in her eyes. She listened to him and the more she heard the more she knew. When he was finishing his speech she smiled through her tears. She wanted to laugh, to cry, everything at once. It was a weird feeling, but a good one. Relief washed over her face when he spoke, “So Amy, do I have a chance? Do you, maybe, feel something to me too?” Tears springing in her eyes. This is it, that moment. It’s now.

It was already after 11 when Damien heard someone coming into the apartment. He stood up and saw Amy taking off her shoes. Her make-up was all over her face but she had a big smile on it. She found his eyes already staring at hers and she smiled warmly at him. “You look like a panda.” He broke the silence. Amy frowned and bursted into laughter. “Oh my gosh Damien!” “I actually didn’t really expect you here. Do you need a hand in packing?” he asked. Amy came a little bit closer to him. “Damien...” she started, “you have every right to hate me but I need to--” “ I don’t hate you.” he broke in. “But I need to,” she continued, “tell you that--” “Amy. I get it. Really, I’m fine. You will be happy with Chris and I’m happy for you. I really am.” “Damien! Can I say something finally?” “I don’t think you have to say any--” “I WANT TO BE WITH YOU DAMIEN ANNOYING ASS NAZARIO. STOP INTERRUPTING ME AND PLEASE LET ME TALK OR I’LL GAG YOU” she yelled. Wait, what? He turned back to her, “What?” “Oh so now you listen. From now on I’ll just yell if I want something.” She chuckled. He grabbed her wrist and looked her in the eyes. “What did you say?” She rolled her eyes. “I said: I want to be with you. Of course, if you’ll still have me. I know that after everything I did and said I might not deserve you anymore but I do love you and I want to be with you. To give you my 100%. Cause I know you’re the one I want. It’s always been you.” Damien blinked a couple of times. “But what about--” She shook her head. “I realized it was you long before he came here. I think I actually knew it from the start. But this whole situation only proved my point.” She looked him in the eyes. “I told Chris that he will always have a special place in my heart but...you are the one I want to spend my life with. If you still want to” she added quietly.

“Chris I don’t know what to say. I was confused when I saw you again after all these years. And you’ll always have a place in my heart, you were my first true love. But I realized it’s Damien I want. It’s always been him. I’m sorry if I ever puzzled you. It was never my intention. I want you to be happy but I’m sorry to say it won’t be with me. You’re an amazing person, I’m sure you’ll find someone who will love you with all they have.” Chris thought for a moment. “I undestand. Damien’s a good guy, he deserves you.” “Chris...” “I’m good! Well, not really. Not yet. But I will be. You’re happy and that’s all that matters. Maybe it’s time for me to move on too.”

She closed her eyes waiting for him to reply. If he says no, she’ll understand. When after a minute he still didn’t answer she opened her eyes and looked at him. For the first time since they met she saw real tears in his eyes. “Are you sure?” he rasped. She let out a relieved breath. “Of course I am. I was never more sure about anything.” Before he could open his mouth she added “I’m so sorry. For the mess I’ve made. I thought I was confused, I thought I had only questions but I couldn’t see I had the answer right in front of me.” He didn’t say anything. Damien instantly swept her up in his arms and pulled her in the most passionate kiss they’ve ever shared. His tears mixed with hers, her black mascara staining his cheeks. When they pulled away breathless, he leaned his forehead on hers. “So, are you forgiving me?” she asked. He chuckled. “I thought it was obvious. I might prove it to you in another way” Damien said kissing her jawline and carrying her to their bedroom.

“Maybe we could talk from time to time? You know, so that we actually communicate instead of waiting another eight years to talk.” Chris asked. “You got it.” She smiled. They hugged each other and stayed there, in this very position, again a little too long than necessary. Even though they let each other go in friendly relations, the feeling was rather bittersweet. The smell of Chris’s cologne now belonged to past. And this time she was ready to move on.

And when she lay down, in Damien’s strong arms,  trying to regain her breath, she was the happiest she’s even been. Her past belonged to Chris. Her present was uncertain until she came into the realization that she already felt deep down in her heart. And she also knew, her future belonged to Damien, to both of them, together. There was no more confusion, no more uncertainty. Just her, Damien, and the future ahead of them.

THE END.

Tagging: @flynnomalleys @mariamatsuo @choices-sideblog @syltti78 @ihearyoucallmyname  @the-lovehacker @hellomynameisdeviblaire @hearteyes-em @vnessafer2016 @thatspicegirlssong @emerald-bijou @starstruckpixelberryhistoryvoid @kickbuttbookworm @damienazariostan  ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[abhikasach-blog]

Time Traveller

Time traveller, yes I have become one. Last evening I visited 1930s of somewhere. Last year, same time I was somewhere else which can easily be 2030s of here. This back and forth in time is magical. Some five years ago when I landed (drove) to this village, the first pan shop I stopped at was playing a cassette of a movie from 70s. This village is locked in time in a strange way. Some parts of it is pre independence and some advanced pockets have reached the 80s. After a month when I went to a city, the street lights were hurting my senses and the motion sensor lights caught my attention and I imagined the century when this village will see something like this. Often times I imagine the look on the face of the ba (old man of the village) if he would ever see a mall or travel by a metro train. It's as big as NASA finding a house in Mars. Some people never get a chance to travel at all. There are many such trees in this village.

Years ago, during my first interaction with a group of women of this area I was asked in the local dialect “whose are you?” I touched my forehead to feel the horns, lock or any symbol which gave them a hint that I was either cattle or a metal suitcase travelling with an owner. Having found none I told them I did not understand their question. “who do you belong to”, “sorry” “who is your husband/father/brother/son?” Son? Now that took me by surprise. Living here I came to know that even if seven or seventeen women have to go from one village to the other, the only mode of transport apart from the vehicle is a male person, it really doesn’t matter if he is just six years old. They are allowed to travel, it reminds me of that iron knife some people keep under their bed to ward off evil.

So last evening I was craving human interaction, my eyes wanted to see flesh, of course appropriately covered. They wanted to see the shadows of the people as they walk. My ears wanted to eavesdrop to conversations I was not party to. I wanted hear emotions, expressions, tones. I wanted to see, smell, and hear at the same time, which the gadgets have taken away.

I drove up to a village a few kilometers away and parked my car at the bus stop. I started walking in the narrow alleys which wind deep inside like the arteries going to some internal organ. More like those fine branches drawn from one of the branches when one doodles. My feet kept taking me deeper into the village. Sound of drums from quaint little temples were coming from almost all directions. These temples were made either under old trees, or were just a piece of stone. As I approached one such temple, there was only a pujari and no one else, he was still absorbed in beating the drum to the loudest. The entire village was echoing with beats from different corners.

There were two children on the street, as I looked at them I was reminded of my childhood. Just before dinner time my mother would realise there is no salt, and my brother and I would walk down to the closest shop to get it. On our way back from the shop we would have looked like these two, with gait in their strides, tossing their heads to some silent music. Laughing like they are watching a Stand up comedian in a bar. Settling some deep life changing conversations oblivious of the fact that salt has to reach the pan on time.

As I moved further down the lanes, there were matchbox size shops. Without selling anything through the day the old men were holding the fort of their little shops, busying themselves repairing or rearranging inventory. Disinterested crows and bats were sleeping on the trees. A solo slipper was left behind to become a part of the road.

I peeped in a silver shop which seemed to have some activity. In the shop was a man, who looked like he was in his early 90s, he was getting his walking stick repaired, yes it was a pure silver walking stick. He was crouching near the silversmith and instructing him in details, I interrupted them asking the price of a toe ring, well they didn’t have time to engage with me, some millions were on fire at that moment. Sitting there, I kept marvelling at the difference between need and want . A stray cat attracted my attention and I followed it to narrower lanes.

Houses in these lanes had as much dirt on their walls as there was on the mud path I was walking on. Some of these houses have not even been opened even once in the last fifty years. The windows have fought time, got injured and opened themselves to see some life, but only to see the locked attic of the houses in front of them. Some torn kite hanging on some or a dead bat on others. Only in years of good monsoon does the earth from these windows and those attic walk down the lanes surveying the other lanes collecting the mob of mud from all the houses.

After an hour or so I traced my steps back to the hub of the village. There used to be a very enterprising guy who kept provisions of 2018, I thought I must buy some cheese. When I reached the place where his shop was, only a closed door met me. I asked the neighboring shop “where is that guy” his remark “whatever he used to keep is available here” had the underlined hatred which is very visible in the country these days and it was completely obvious that like most of the people from ‘other religion’ his only option was to leave the village. Some people need to travel to live. It reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend. Once we were sitting and I was telling him that when people ask me about my caste and religion I tell them I have none. His reply was “it's easy for you to do that as you come from the privilege of your birth in a certain family, if I do jj same it will be read as cowardice, or a plea of inclusion”.

An unaccompanied woman walking in the village this late in the evening attracts audience. How they were looking at me reminded me one time when I and another friend had accidently drove into a naxalite village. It was three in the afternoon and there were very few people on the street. There was a man apparently repairing his cycle and keeping an eye on my car. As we approached the man and asked him the way out, he responded “I am new here” we moved further down on and there was a man washing his auto rickshaw. There were two three children playing with a tyre and a stick. They had the same look in their eye as the cycle man, the auto man and a couple of women we had crossed on the way. The women had the same piercing look but they refused to talk to us. We stopped near the auto guy and asked him the way out. He responded “I am new here”. After some 30 minutes we hit the highway, but the look in their eyes follow me still.

So, while I was standing there, I knew everyone was observing me, its less intimidating than how I felt in that trip. If you have seen any Guru Dutt movie, or a movie of that time, imagine a village market from there. People were sitting together in groups of three and five, discussing important things, there was this one man six feet tall, well built and he had a noticeably sharp nose. He was absorbed in the newspaper which had arrived a few hours ago with the bus that comes from the city. As he heard my voice he turned around and acknowledged my presence. I sat with them on the stair of the shop and we started talking about education. The old man on the edge of the stair kept peering through his broken spectacle without moving even an inch. Another person asked me,”since you are a teacher I want to ask you a question if you promise that you won't be offended”. I told him I can promise him that I won't be offended but the nature of the question will determine whether he would get an answer or not. He asked me “why are the people from your State so short in height?” It was easy, I told him about how genetics and geography along with nutrition and chance work on people’s physical built. The man with the broken spectacles just moved enough to readjust his glasses.

This person who was reading the newspaper told me that he teaches veda and upanishads to young boys holding residential camps. For him education means educating the young men and boys about the veda and the richness and exactness and applicability of all of it in present day. Well, you have to remember we were in 1930s and it was making complete sense to him. He actually looked like a freedom fighter. He spends millions of rupees annually to conduct these residential camps where more than 400 boys stay for a week in each camp and learn the vedas. He wanted to understand my perspective on education. I had recently, as a time traveller touched the meteorite iron which is billions years old. The children in the village only get to read one passing sentence about it in their textbook. Whereas the children in that city of that country have the luxury to see it, touch it and feel it. They also know about the vedas and the richness of the culture of not only India but also other countries. When I ask the children of this village about the country they live in, they happily name the state. These saplings need to be transplanted soon otherwise they will end up as trees here.

After talking to them for a while I went to the shop and bought the cheese cubes, which the shopkeeper had stored in an ice cream freezer. As I left the place I heard the old men started a fresh conversation on what cheese is.

As I approached my car I met someone from 1970s and as I reached the car there were more people from 2018. Finally when I reached Ayaad I came to my timeless zone of here and now.

[shadowtsukiyo]

Cowardice of Thine Heart Chapter 1

It was a typical evening, they met at their usual spot on the Eiffel Tower. Ladybug was usually anxious, something that caught Chat’s attention. She was normally so bold and confident. In this moment, she kind of reminded him of his classmate, Marinette.

While Marinette was sweet, she was nothing like his Ladybug. He knew of the girl’s crush, and while he liked her on some level, his heart belonged to his partner. But, until he was taken by his Lady, he could let Marinette have her crush.

“M’lady, why are you so anxious?” He couldn’t help but purr as he slid into place next to her, watching her jerk a bit in surprise.

“Chat, you startled me!” She grumbled at him, crossing her arms over her chest, a small pout gracing her lips.

“My apologies, M’lady.” Despite his words he felt a small sense of pride at being able to startle her. Usually she was very aware of her surroundings. She spent the last three years honing her skills as the defensive one of their partnership.

“It’s fine. Just don’t do it again. I hate being startled.” She muttered before lightly bumping her hip against him. Her lips quirked up into a playful smirk. “I, however, did ask you up here for a reason.”

His green eyes turned to her, confusion in the wide emerald pools.

“I’ ready…”

“For…?” His confusion only grew at her words. Why was she playing word games with him?

“Meet me at the Techno Parade at ten. I’ll in in front of our statues.”

Suddenly, it clicked.

Their masks. She was ready to meet without the masks!

“M-M’lady, are you sure? How will I know it is you?” His hand touched her shoulder, trembling slightly. Was this real?

“I’ll be wearing your colors, Minou.” She smiled, “I’m sure. I’m ready for you to know who I am, Chat. So… lng as you’re ready to know.” Her voice turned shy.

“O-of course! I can’t wait!”

“Good. I hope to see you there, Minou.” Her finger lightly tapped his nose before pausing. He saw a brief bit of worry cross her features before he caught her wrist.

“I will be there, M’lady. I promise.”

Adrien had been anxious the moment she left. A giddiness flooded him the entire way home.

The Techno Parade was tonight, Nino was playing in it. The male had been so extatic, having passed VIP passes out to his closest friends: Adrien, Marinette, and of course Alya, his girlfriend. However, he was begrudgingly forced to give Lila Rossi one as well.

Lila and Alya had clicked shortly after they all joined Lycée. While Marinette and Alya were still friends, it seemed the two had slowly grown apart. They still sat together when given the chance, but something was off about the way they were now compared to when they were fifteen.

The chestnut-haired female was currently clinging to Alya when they finally met up. Both girls were dressed in dark colors accented with bright neon shades. Alya was in black and purple, reminding him of Lady Wifi, while Lila had black and orange, reminding him of when she was Volpina.

“Hey, ‘Nette said she’d be a bit late. She is fixing something before she comes out tonight.” Nino commented. His face had a strip of neon blue face pant in a mask like marking, a red sleeveless jacket, and a dark shirt with splatters of red and yellow—a homage to his Akumatized self, much like the others.

“Well, after you, DJ Bubbler.” Alya tossed him a saucy smirk, earning a low chuckle from Nino.

Compared to the rest of them, Adrien felt a little left out. He stuck to a simple black on black. The only real color accents was a bright green diagonal strip across his chest. He hadn’t wanted to overdo it when he met up with Ladybug later.

He couldn’t stop the smile that graced his features, earning a scowl from Lila as she moved to press closer into Alya.

Adrien wouldn’t even let her ruin his good mood.

He just had to wait until ten. Two hours away.

Marinette had been running late, as usual, but damn if she didn’t feel great! The eighteen-year-old was dressed in a pair of black jeans and flats, her shirt was of her own design, something made specifically for Chat Noir.

“Are you sure you’re going to do this Marinette? I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell anyone your identity.” Tikki commented quietly from Marinette’s purse. This had been at least the fourth time Tikki brought it up since she came home from meeting Chat at around five.

“Tikki, it’s Chat. I’ve made him wait three years because of that fear and worry. I’m not afraid, not anymore. He’s my best friend, and… maybe we can really be more if he still wants to.”

She was still shy around Adrien, but not to the extent she had been when she had a crush on him. Her shyness now was more out of embarrassment for how she used to act. Over two years of awkward and creepy Marinette, and some odd months of trying to fix her past impressions.

Adrien wasn’t what she thought he was, and while that wasn’t a bad thing, it made her realize she idolized him so much she never saw him as a person. In the same moment of idolizing Adrien, she had pushed Chat and her developing feelings for him into a corner.

It wasn’t fair to Adrien, Chat, or even herself.

“Are you sure?” Tikki asked again, making sure her wielder knew what she was doing.

“Yes, Tikki. Chat… he’d never let me down before.” The two fought and joked, they teased and got mad. They may have been partners, but even when he was furious with her, he never let her down.

Her phone began buzzing and ringing, making Tikki jump in surprise. Marinette tossed her a sheepish smile, she had forgotten she tucked her phone in the purse with Tikki.

“Nino! I’m sorry I’m running late, I’m on my way right now!”

“Nettie, no worries!” He had a large grin, “I know you’re meeting that “friend” so you take your time, dude. And good luck! Just wanted to let you know I saw the schedule, I’m on a little after ten. If you finish your little meeting, swing backstage!”

“I’ll try, but even if I don’t make it back there, know I’m cheering for you!” Nino had been one of her oldest and dearest friends next to Nathaniel and Rose. Nino and her spent quite a bit of their childhood together.

This was why she was able to tell him just about anything—like what she and Alya used to do.

A pang of hurt flooded her heart thinking of Alya.

It had been the second year of Lycee when she and Alya really started pulling away from one another.

Ladybug had been needed far more when Hawkmoth produced more violent champions, and Alya had demanded Marinette join her in her filming of the battles. Marinette couldn’t be in two places at once, and she deemed Paris and the safety of her friend far more important than the Ladyblog.

It drove a wedge between the two of them, and Marinette wasn’t too sure it could be repaired anymore…

She missed her friend dearly, but Alya had that close friendship again with Lila. As much as it silently stung that Alya trusted the Italian girl, she knew she couldn’t let her jealousy get the best of her again.

Alya made her choice. And they were still friends that often sat together; they just… weren’t anything like they used to be.

She hoped maybe if it was okay with Chat after tonight… she could finally tell Alya. To fix this… to fix their friendship.

When Nino ended the call, Marinette started walking. The park wasn’t too far from her home, but with the packed streets it was taking longer to get there than usual. All of the Techno Parade Afterparties were starting at major locations like the park and by the Louve and Eiffel Tower.  They’d be loud and wild.

She saw many people on her way inside the crowd. All of her friends were wearing Nino’s DJ Bubbler colors. It made her smile.  

Nathaniel was there with Alix, Juleka, and Rose. Kim was somewhere in the distance with Max, the two having recently started dating.

She even saw Sabrina, Chloe, Ivan, and Mylene.

All of their friends were there for Nino; whether or not they’d be willing to admit it.

Glancing at the statues of herself and her partner she paused, waiting by it for the bench to open up with a seat.

She had just under an hour.

Adrien was a very prompt person, he was early for everything he could be, unless an Akuma caused otherwise. He was only ten or so minutes early, having grabbed some snacks for him and his Lady to share.

His heart started pounding as he grew closer and closer to the statues. Maybe she was already there?!

He’d see her first, and she’d never know… He’d finally know if he knew her.

He knew he should have waited, but he wasn’t able to help himself, looking to the bench with a few people on it. A young couple chatting, and another girl playing on her phone.

The bag of sweets he got from a vendor slipped from his hand.

This wasn’t right….

She couldn’t be Ladybug! That would mean…

Lights flashed around the open area of the heavily populated park. Sitting on the bench in front of the Ladybug and Chat Noir statues was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

…that she was….

She sat clad in a pair of tight jeans, and a single sleeved top. Along the outermost edge of the long sleeve and the opposite along her ribcage were neon green paw prints.

His symbol. Chat Noir’s Miraculous symbol.

There was no denying this was her.

…in front of him all this time.

She sat patiently, fiddling with her purse. It was cracked open, and if he hadn’t known better, he would have missed it or mistaken it.

A small red Kwami was in the bag, just barely peeking out.

She really was…

The bells rang, it was ten. Ten minutes had passed a lot faster in his shell-shocked state. He could feel Plagg squirming, the Kwami growing anxious from all of Adrien’s mixed emotions.

Her eyes glanced back to the purse.

Ladybug….

No, he couldn’t do this. It felt too… wrong.

Shakily, he took a step back…. Then another… and another.

“Adrien, dude! I’m on soon. Come on!” A breath of relief escaped him, he had been so frightened Marinette would turn her attention away from her Kwami to look around and see him.

He had never been so thankful for Nino’s interruptions before.

Nino seized his friend’s arm. Alya standing nearby with Lila and a few others.

Adrien quickly followed Nino, only sparing Marinette one more look.

…He had overlooked her.

He had no idea what to do. So, he did the only thing he felt he could do: He ran. He allowed Nino to drag him away and didn’t look back outside of that one time.

Ten-thirty.

“Tikki… he’s late.” Marinette’s voice was small. She tried to get lost in Nino’s music when it began playing, but it only made her more anxious. She was missing her friend’s performance for Chat, and he was late.

“Maybe he’s lost in the crowd? Give him a little bit more time!” Tikki’s voice came out in a hushed whisper, making Marinette strain to hear her. Tikki hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she knew what had happened, had sensed it. The red Kwami couldn’t say anything because Marinette wasn’t allowed to know that she could sense other Kwami.

Tikki had been against this from the start, but in this moment, she had wished it had worked out. For Marinette’s sake.

“I’ll give him another half hour…” She found herself repeating the phrase twice before going silent.

They both knew it was a lie. Marinette would wait all night if she was able to.

The ravenette wasn’t even sure she’d be able to stand if she wanted to. Her knees trembled with fear. Had he abandoned her because he saw who she was?

Eleven-forty-five.

Marinette was trembling in her seat. The trembling had surpassed her legs and knees, moving to her entire body. People passed her, some pitying looks escaping them. However, no one approached her. She only gained whispers and looks—no one would help the sad girl.

Even Tikki was speechless. Chat Noir was anything but a flake or anything of that sort, but he hadn’t shown, he was nearly two hours late. She could sense Plagg nearby still, which meant Chat knew she was still waiting on him.

The red Kwami was furious, and somewhere mixed in with the crowd, Plagg winced from feeling his other half so angry and being unable to help.

There was nothing either Kwami could do that wouldn’t break the rules, or that wouldn’t cause more damage than had already been done.

Eleven-fifty-five

Marinette had gone still, her head lowered. Tikki could see the tears that welled up in her eyes. She was trying everything not to cry.

“Oh look, it’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe’s voice was almost taunting as she plopped down next to the girl. Her arm slung over her shoulder, not in a friendly manner, but in an attempt to be intimidating.

Chloe hadn’t really grown from her mocking phase, her silent jealousy fueled her to be meant to the dark haired girl.

Chloe hadn’t noticed her tense form, or that the contact had caused the dam to break. Tikki watched from within Marinette’s purse as silvery streams dripped down her cheeks.

“What are you doing here, Cheng? Shouldn’t you be with your loser friends?”

“…he’s not coming… is he…?”

Chloe blinked. This wasn’t the voice she was used to—at least not since before Alya joined the school four years ago.

“What?”

“He’s not coming…” A finger shakily brushed back a raven lock. Her hair having been down for the night. Chloe finally saw the tears and felt her throat grow tight.

This wasn’t the Marinette she argued with since she was fifteen. This was the same shell of a girl she hadn’t seen as worth her time before Adrien and Alya joined the school.

This was the shell and self-loathing girl she had bullied into utter submission in Primary school. The same broken soul that had caused her to waver before, unsure how to handle someone who was broken.

Chloe wasn’t a nice person… but something about seeing Marinette like this rubbed her wrong. She always secretly admired Marinette, maybe even had a crush on her.

“He’s not coming… I was right… I knew it…” Dark haired woman ducked her head towards her lap, muffled sobs escaped her. She didn’t even care that it was Chloe watching her break down. “Why did I ever think I was enough…”

Chat wanted nothing to do with her.

Her greatest fear of Marinette never being enough just came true.

Chloe felt something snap. Her hand moved to drag the girl to her feet. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

No one was there with the girl. Not even in secret.

Alya was somewhere. Rose and Juleka were dancing last time she saw. Adrien was off with Nino backstage.

Out of a class full of friends, no one was watching her back. Chloe expected that kind of thing if it had been her. Not Marinette.

The girl was so lost in her tears, she complied easily as the blonde hauled her towards the street, hailing a cab to take the girl to her home.

Inside the cab, Chloe hesitantly held Marinette. She wasn’t sure how to handle this. Sabrina didn’t come to her for things like this—emotional support. Yet, here Marinette was clinging to her like it was her lifeline.

This wasn’t right. This felt so bitter and wrong.

She spent all her time almost wanting this shell of a person back, which was why she bullied Marinette and everyone else. Even if in secret is was because she loved when Marinette was a spitfire towards her…

This felt all wrong.

“Why are you helping me…? You h-hate me…” Marinette’s words were choked as she buried her face deeper into Chloe’s chest.

It wasn’t uncomfortable for the blonde, just unusual. Her hand awkwardly rubbing at her back.

“Even this isn’t right. I’m a bitch, not heartless.” Chloe tried to sound nonchalant, but it only earned a choked laugh from the girl.

“You are a bitch, but you’ve never been heartless… I’ve seen heartless.”

Heatless was Hawkmoth, a man—possibly even a woman—that was willing to step on everyone, young or old, male or female, to get what they wanted.

She almost wished she had been akumatized to get this anger and sadness to turn numb, but she knew she couldn’t and wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Chloe didn’t know how to respond. People often called her a heartless bitch behind her back. Alya called her one to her face. Yet, Marinette didn’t think she was heartless….

“Why?”

It was silent before, “I knew you when I was a kid, Chloe… You dumped a bucket of sand on Kim when he was picking on me for being a girl.”

Chloe paused, a small memory flashed in her head.

They had only been four. Rarely saw each other outside of the park…. It was before her mom had died.

“You never were bad… just sad.” Marinette was half snuggled into her. It would have been easier to walk home. With all of the road closures the Cab had to take the long way around and go into a side street where it ended at a blockade for the parties.

This was so much easier to talk about, to feel about, then think of Chat…

Thinking of him had a new wave of tears starting. This time, Chloe tightened her arms around her.

“I don’t know who this guy was, and I really don’t care.” Chloe was lying. She really wanted to know who fucked Marinette over. She would have killed to have this girl’s affection in that way… and this guy threw it away. “But whomever he is, he’s wrong and fucked up, royally!”

The blonde felt warmth in her chest, it felt… nice, being nice.

Felt nice talking to Marinette like they used to.

Marinette didn’t comment, she didn’t know what to say to that. This was Chloe who used to make her life a living hell being nice. This was a girl who drove her insane trying to help her out and cheer her up.

“W-would… you stay with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

Icy eyes snapped down to the girl half on her.

“What about Alya?”

“…She’s staying at Lila’s tonight.”

Lila…

Chloe wanted to sneer. That girl was more obnoxious then her. Lila was, in her opinion, a two-faced snake. Lila had shown in school she was not above lying to get her way. Of stabbing people in the back to get what she wanted.

Chloe knew she was a bitch, but she’d walk all over someone as they watched, not stab a knife in their back. She’d be a snobby bitch to a person’s face.

“Yeah… just let me text, Daddy.” Her fingers gently brushed Marinette’s hair before going for her phone.

This… could be a new start for the blonde…

Blue eyes drifted from a phone screen to the exhausted girl snuggled into her. A hand moving to stroke her hair in a hesitant manner.

She could grow up and maybe learn to be good again…

Take it! I wasn’t going to put this out until I had 3 chapters typed out, but blame @anadia-chan it’s all her fault you guys are actually getting this early.

Buy Moi a Coffee?

Special thanks to: @anadia-chan, @toukabunni33, and @usernamestrugglesaretooreal

They have all been so much help with this fic in the planning and all around playing my sounding boards for ideas. 

[jacobnobody]

2000- Ch. 3 Nader

2000- Ch. 3

“ Okay, so for our district the Voting booth is right there at the post office so go ahead and turn in here.”

Matt didn’t change lanes.

“ Hey Matt, If we’re registered at our apartment we need to turn in here.”

Matt drove past the post office.

“ Uh Matt...We need to turn around.”

Matt drove another three miles and stopped in the mall parking. He turned on NPR. We sat and listened to NPR’s election night coverage.

“ Matt, what are you doing? The polls close at 7:00, it’s 6:30 right now.”

“I’m kidnapping you.”

“What do you mean?”

“ I mean, I’m kidnapping you, this is a kidnapping.”

“ Okay...Why?”

“I’m not going to let you vote for Bush.”

“ I wasn’t planning on it.”

“You said you were.”

“I was joking, you Idiot.”

“ I don’t believe you.”

Matt has always been a skinny and frail, more than a few times he’d been called wormy and I got the idea high school had been a bit difficult for him.

I met him at a coffee shop right before I moved into town. He kept dreading is impending homelessness, so after some thought I decided to let him crash on my couch for two weeks. He never left.

He had kind of an annoying way of arguing by simply getting louder with more off topic facts that had little to do with the subject at hand. He never once admitted he was wrong or accepted responsibility for anything.

I debated just hitting him and taking the keys back. But...either cowardice, confusion, or a general distaste for violence in general kept me from it. A side note. I can’t denounce violence. I’ve been in a few scrapes and I don’t like getting hit. I don’t like bleeding or ending up in the hospital or worse sending someone else there. I don’t like violence because I know how horrible it is, but I can’t denounce it because eventually I’ve hit back.

Most people’s stance against a lot of things comes from a position of privilege and wealth. It’s easy to take a stance on homeless, abortion, gun control, alcoholism or college when you’ve never had to legitimately deal with those things. It’s easy to denounce violence if you’ve never been hit in the face.

Anyway, I didn’t hit him. So we sat there in silence for a while.

“I like Nader.” Matt said eventually.

“His vote won’t count in this state.”

“I know, can you believe that shit?”

“I know. It sucks, but you’ve got to deal with what’s in front of you. The choices are between Bush and Gore. Pick one of those. That’s how elections work.”

“Well maybe they shouldn’t.”

Matt said.

“Maybe you should run for office and do something about it.”

“Maybe I will.” He didn’t. Matt’s greatest claim to fame past that point was a series of YouTube videos denouncing the Pope and a rather intense opioid addiction.

“I just hate Clinton.”

“ Do you hate Bill Clinton or do you hate the way things are? A lot changed and even got better under Clinton. You don’t want to bite the hand that’s trying to help you.”

“ Nomm Nomm Nomm,” This was Matt’s way of dodging the issue.

“Look, “ I said. “Gore and Clinton. They’re different people, in spite of all of the Monica blowjob thing I though Clinton was doing a pretty good job. Gore’s probably going to keep a lot of Clinton’s reforms in place, and maybe make the world better.

“Nomm Nomm Nomm,” Matt was now chewing in his own hand.

“ Look, I’m serious here.”

Finally Matt said...,” Gore’s just more of the same, he’s just Bill Clinton 2.0, he’s is just as bad a Bush.”

I went on, “ Sure he’s kind of a tree hugger, and he’s got to deal with all the controversy surrounding Clinton but Bush destroyed the Texas economy, just like his Dad destroyed the American economy.”

“ Gore is just more political money.” Matt said.

“And you think Bush isn’t? His Dad was President for Christ sakes. You want more of that?”

“ Bush won’t get elected.”

“He might.”

“No; No, No. He won’t get elected because people can see what an idiot he is, living off his daddy’s reputation. Gore is going to win. “

“ You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.”

“I thought you did this to keep me from voting for Bush.”

“ I’m doing this to keep you for voting for anyone.”

“Just start the car We’ve still got time.”

“ Calm down, listen, your vote won’t count. Mine won’t either.”

“Of course your flipping Vote counts, if it didn’t why would they spend millions of dollars ( back then a million was a lot of money.) trying to convince you to vote one way or another?”

“ We’re in a Red State, this state has always been a red state, and nothing is going change that.”

“It definitely won’t if people like you and me don’t Vote!”

My State is now a major swing state. It went Blue twice under Obama, and it could turn Blue again in the next election.

Maybe what we’re working through is everything being re-defined. Our knowledge, our viewpoints, even our gender is now the subject of debate and discussion. Or maybe our difficulties stem from us no longer being able to define ourselves as everyone else seems to be in such a rush to label ourselves and each other.

So we sat there as the sun started to go down, two progressives arguing politics while a conservative took the White House.