#Flanfic

[wrightanatomyau]

Weird uncle

When growing up, Ninten always thought that his uncle Giegue was a little bit odd, and even further from that, that he was even a wizard.

He vaguely remembered things, but it might had started when he first saw him as a child: his sisters were soon to be born, and that would mean Ninten was going to be a big brother that had to protect them, but he worried not as he was now a big five years-old boy who feared nothing, not even his mom's surprise guests.

He was waltzing down the stairs with his trusty companion — his penguin plushie — when he noticed his mama at the front door, with her, a strange, thin, unbelievably tall man with hair red as the velvety carnations that bloomed at the garden...

Of course, for a child that was yet to explore the world that basically anything he had ever known was within the walls of his very house, that was just odd, and when his dear mama called him ...

"Ninten, sweetie, come greet your uncle Giegue!".

Ninten had no filter whatsoever about it.

The infant waddled up to his mama with wobbly legs and a penguin plushie bigger than himself at his stubby arms, and standing before the redhead stranger, his lips separated into a wide grin.

"You're so weird!", the child giggled and had he not been so amused about this stranger's peculiar red hair and over the top clothes, he would have noticed that his mama's face had drained of all color.

As Carol gasped and her spirit left her body along her lungs’ air, it was caught mid-way as that who belonged to her spouse's family tree squatted before light-heartedly placing his dandy fedora to her son's stuffed toy, and with a confident smile, told the child:

"You have no idea".

Of course, that had been before his sisters were born and little Ninten realised that red was a completely natural hair colour to have even if somewhat an oddity, but he had the active imagination of a child and rationalizing was not something that kids did that well.

Ever since their dad put little Ninten in charge of being the man of the house as he would have to go, weird uncle Gygy — as Ninten have started to call him — began been around a lot more, and though the “more” of “never” was “rarely ever”, these moments did count.

“Child, get down from there”, weird uncle said calmly as Ninten very sneakily tried to climb up the tree that the old man was leaning into while reading a book about things the child wouldn’t care nor understand yet.

Of course, little Ninten heard not, he was young, dumb, and thought that being a big boy meant he could do whatever he wanted like climbing up the tallest tree alive! — inside his garden, of course! —.

“You will fall and get hurt”, Giegue warned, though parting not his eyes from his book, not even when the rustle of leaves and branches were heard and said dumb child fell from the tree only to be caught from a possibly ugly fall by his unamused uncle.

“Well, well, what did I tell you?”, asked the old man with a raised brow as he kept the child suspended in air by the strips of his overalls and was looked dead on by eyes sharp as daggers.

“That I’d fall and get hurt”, the tiny boy replied to his uncle’s question with a trembling lip while, despite his very big — actually tiny — cuts, he held back tears as he was a big boy now and big boys did not cry, but then…

“And what happened?”, uncle asked a little more demandingly.

“I fell and got hurt!”, little Ninten cried anyhow as many other adults — but lawyers — would probably break too under such crushing pressure!

As the child cried his eyes out, the responsible adult put him down on the safety of the short grass, and after what felt like an eternity of crying…

"Where did you get hurt?", uncle Gygy asked, sitting down before little Ninten.

The child whimpered and sniffed, but eventually calmed down enough to talk.

“Here!”, he pointed at his arm, and old uncle hummed.

“Ah, yes, I can see it, you’re bleeding…”

“Ah?!”

“Yes, I fear it is mortal”, he nodded.

“Wha-?!”, the child cried louder though he didn’t even know what “mortal” meant, but it seemed serious.

Again, his uncle nodded. “Yes, yes, you will bleed out and die”.

“I don’t wanna die!” — That was not a good thing! —. “Not even band aids can save me?!”, he asked since a band aid and a kiss was what his mama would usually do when he got hurt.

“No”, replied his uncle.

Ninten cried louder, very unlike to a big boy, but not very unlike a big boy that was going to die. Or at least until uncle Gygy sighed, and extending his hand towards him, he spoke.

“Allow me to see that scratch again, child”, he requested, and though not so glad and tears yet in his eyes, Ninten heeded the order.

His tiny arm was taken into his uncle’s palm and with the other hand, uncle Gygy took a handkerchief; the clothe tissue was merely hovered over Ninten’s skin, and by the time it was taken back into the pocket it had come from, his skin was completely clear!

No gash, no blood, he looked perfectly fine!

Ninten gasped as he looked around his arm.

“There”, said his uncle, letting go of his grand nephew.

“Unkie Gygy, are you a wizard?!”, the tiny child asked awestruck since his uncle had made the gash straight up disappear.

“No, I am a doctor”.

“Woah!”, Ninten gasped. “THEN same thing!”

“What-?”  — Giegue made a face — “No-…”

“YES!”, little Ninten insisted. “Doctors are wizards that cure your body!”, he explained and that’s when Giegue realized: he was not about to fight with a child and lose, thus, it was best to humour him.

“Ah, I see my deceit was of no consequence for you. Yes, my dear nephew. Indeed, I am a wizard that cures the body” — “confessed” his uncle — “Alas, my magical proficiency must remain a secret between the two of us", he added with the index to his mouth in shushing gesture.

“Not even mama can know?”

“Not even mama”.

Ninten opened his mouth as to talk, but ultimately, closed it right back and made across his lips a zipping motion to sign his mouth would remain closed before “locking” it and throwing “the key” away.

“Good boy”, Giegue patted his head, and Ninten beamed at him before springing up.

“Can I still get a penguin band aid, though?”, he asked, practically jumping on place.

“That your mother shall tell”.

“Can you go with me to tell mama?”, the child offered his hand, and after some consideration…

The old man sighed in defeat. “Very well…”, he said, standing up himself, and Ninten smiled wider because a “very” well was better than a normal well!

Taking the child’s hand into his, both were to meet with the young boy’s mother.

Yes, perhaps little Ninten could have been quite mixed up about what a doctor truly was, but even then, he could tell that there was something different about his uncle than with all the other professionals of the health field…

Cough

Cough

He recalled one winter morning waking up feeling sick.

“It is just a cold”, Ninten recalled hearing weird uncle Gygy telling mom. “He shall be fine”.

Ninten had always been a sickly child, but it didn’t stop Carol from worrying nonetheless.

“Yes- Yes, I’m sorry for worrying so much… It's just that since my husband left-…” — she stopped — “Well… Maybe I’m worrying too much…”.

“There is never such a thing as a mother worrying too much for her child, Carol”, uncle relieved. “However, I must implore you to take a well-deserved rest, you work more than enough looking after the twins, so allow me to look after Ninten”.

Ninten couldn’t recall much of what they said after as he had closed his eyes just a bit to rest them and everything had gone hazy; by the time he next opened his eyes...

“You slept for a long while”, Ninten heard his uncle’s voice.

Cough.

Yet drowsy, uncle Giegue helped him sit up and even went as far as taking the courtesy to fix his pillow for him.

“How are you feeling, child?”

But Ninten did not reply, until…

“I miss my dad”, he said.

“That is not what I mean-…”

“When is papa coming back?”, he interrupted.

Weird uncle, too, remained silent for a bit.

“I am unsure”, was his answer, and Ninten fell silent yet again.

He was not surprised that he had gotten sick, truthfully, it was completely understandable to him… It was winter, this always happened year after year, and with even more reason since he had been a mischievous, naughty child, and not only had he stayed awake until late, but had he been standing right in front of the open window, waiting…

It wouldn’t be long until holidays, and papa had not returned yet.

And suddenly, as uncle Giegue had read his mind, he made little Ninten a question…

“Do you miss your father, Ninten…?”

“Mhm…”, he hummed, bringing his legs closer to himself, and felt his eyes close again; he was too tired, too sick, and especially? too sad, though perhaps he couldn’t pout and sulk all day, especially not when a tiny, little light passed through the corner of his eye.

“Huh?”, Ninten murmured as he let go of his legs to sit up properly, and when he did, there were a bunch of tiny little green sparkles all around the room!

“What’s that?!”, the child asked, awestruck.

"I am as puzzled as you are", replied his uncle in his usual calm demeanour. "Maybe they are the northern lights, it is quite cold outside after all".

"Oooo, North lights!", Ninten cooed right before poking one and getting blinded by an explosion of light that made him cross his eyes.

"Woah!", he mouthed upon soon recovery, though his uncle didn't seem so pleased.

"Maybe do not attempt that again…", uncle told him, quite worried as he pulled his tiny little hands away from the green, glowing orbs.

Though after a long day of being sick and playing with the tiny lights, as Ninten laid on his big boy bed, he did find something odd...

Was that actually normal? It wasn't quite that cold, and it had never happened before in any other winter but this one.

With uncle Gygy.

A wizard.

Could he be more than a bodily wizard?

Filled with curiosity, little adventurous Ninten decided to get out from his big boy bed despite it being past his sleepy time, and very sneakily, tip-toe downstairs to the study room where his uncle often stayed whenever he crashed in for a visit.

Carefully, Ninten neared the door, and saw blue and green sparkles coming from underneath the frame, and quiet as a mouse, the child dared to creak it open just the right amount to peer inside...

There was his uncle.

And indeed, lights flashed before him! That had to mean that he really was a more special super magical wizard than normal doctors!...

Except that then, Ninten noticed, he was casting no cool spells that turned people into frogs nor made them fly. And there were some... Particularly vaguely familiar voices...

Ninten noticed... His uncle was just watching his mama’s soap opera on a mini-TV.

"Child, I did not see you there", said uncle despite turning almost as he had been expecting him. "Is it not past your bedtime?"

"Why were you watching mama's novella?" — instead practicing cool magic to turn people into worms! —.

"Well, Ninten, your mama has been working arduously, it is to be expected that she is tired; thus, I took the bother to watch her so-called novella, so she will not miss a single detail", weird uncle explained.

“Family is very important, child… We never must give our backs to it, did you know?”, he asked and…

As he had grown so accustomed to say, Ninten giggled.

“Of course I know!”, he beamed. “You’re so weird!”

And uncle responded:

“Well, you are not so behind yourself, little worm!”.

“Am I a worm?!”, Ninten gasped.

“With how squirmish you are? You must”

Ninten laughed and ran to where his weird uncle was.

“Can you teach me how to magic so I can turn back human?”, he excitedly asked.

“Impossible, that implies you were human once”, uncle replied, pulling him up to his lap. “Well, well-! Someone is gaining pounds!”

“Yes! I’m a big boy now!”, uncle was informed.

“Of course, how could I had been so blind?”

“I can even read now!”, Ninten told him and turned to uncle’s Gygy’s desk where some books laid. “Look, there says Human traf… king?” — he tried to read before uncle put the books away, stopping the child from any further reading —.

“I think that might be enough reading for today”, uncle stood up with Ninten on arms. “It is quite late after all”.

“But I-!”

“No”, uncle Gygy said and then memories got quite hazy…

However, Ninten was sure that there was nothing to worry about, back then he was quite young, and it had been years since then, and it was normal forgetting things that happened years ago…

Perhaps he couldn’t remember all the little details of why, as a child, he thought that uncle Giegue was sometimes pretty odd — to say the least —, and maybe he hadn’t changed much on the following years, though Ninten could be sure about something: his uncle had been quite an inspiration for him to become a doctor, and if that meant being weird, Ninten was more than glad to follow his steps, and be that weird wizard that helped tiny sickly children to feel better like how once he had been.  - ✨B✨

[flowerparrish]

[PODFIC] Flan-Flippin-Tastic - written by @vexbatch & read by me, with cover art from Melancholy Morningstar

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: Maria HIll / Natasha Romanov

Rated: General Audiences

Length: 5 minutes

Summary: 

There's a baking competition in Avengers Tower. It's just as ridiculous and competitive as you might expect.

[mistwrites]

Currently flipping between:

- Open Windows

- Let’s Steal a Batfam

- Star Wars (codywan) flanfic

- Star Wars (codywan) stormlight archive au where jedi are spren

- Star Wars (codywan) tea fic

- Star Wars (codywan) soulmate au where a bunch of jedi suddenly get suspicious marks with “clone” or “cc-2224″ and they gotta find this jedi soulmate cloning facility

[ajkal2]

flanfic

[teignoro-tarea]

Estaba escuchando "Vivo por ella" y se me vino esto a la cabeza. No sé qué sea con exactitud, pero lo pondré para "el público" :p

Estaba muy oscuro. Ella no se sentía incomoda, pero tampoco estaba del todo tranquila. Las puntas de sus dedos estaban frías y podía suponer que eso era malo, mas no podía estar segura. Desde que tenía uso de memoria había sido así y no recordaba queja alguna.

A veces se preguntaba si así era en todas partes… Se preguntaba si había algo más en alguna parte. O si existía algo que pudiera ser “parte”.

Esas cosas se cuestionaba cuando la alcanzó la mano. Al principio no supo cómo reaccionar. Las únicas manos que había visto eran las suyas: blancas, pequeñas y regordetas, y la que apareció si bien era tan blanca como la suyas, también era delgada y sus dedos parecían poder alcanzar todos los puntos cardinales, así de largos. Eso sin contar las garras negras. Y aunque supo que el aspecto era amenazador, más cuenta se dio de que ante la aparición se sentía más tibia por dentro.

-Pequeña dama –dijo la voz del propietario de esa mano nueva-, venga conmigo. Un AU de Sailor Moon se está desarrollando y eso me dio la idea de que es momento que esto suceda.

La aludida “Pequeña dama” ladeó un poco la cabeza. Le hablaban con cariño. Quienquiera que estuviera hablando la conocía y la quería como si fueran algo…

-Quiero presentarte a tus padres. Quiero que se conozcan.

¿Padres?

Cuando ella tomó la mano, su propietario sonrió.

Lo siguiente que ocurrió es que todo se iluminó. Ya no estaban donde antes. Ella reconoció que ahora se encontraba en un pasillo, uno blanco, pulcro y bien iluminado. Eran oficinas.

-Este es el universo alterno “Maestros” –dijo el hombre a su lado, el dueño de la mano y a quien ya consideraba, indudablemente, su primer y único amigo–. Este universo es el más… posible para ustedes.

Una de las puertas se abrió y dos hombres en saco negro salieron. Iban hablando… Bueno, solamente uno hablaba; el otro lo escuchaba con seriedad, ni siquiera mirándolo. El que hablaba, no obstante, la atrapó por completo. Fue tan inevitable como la atracción de los imanes. Se lo dijeron esos ojos, ahora del color del caramelo derretido sobre las manzanas; se lo dijo ese pelo, tan oscuro como el de ella y como el del lugar en donde había estado hasta hacía unos momentos.

Ese era su padre.

–Aquí se llama también Elizandro Aguilar, aunque para sus amigos siempre es y será Lee –el demonio Seeley se rió de alguna broma privada–. Es un respetado profesor de Literatura y no sé de ningún alumno que se lo tome en son de broma.

Lo reconocería en cualquier parte. Aunque no tuviese los mismos ojos dorados ni el pelo largo y desarreglado. Era el mismo hombre al que su corazoncito buscaba cuando las noches traían pesadillas y tenía esas manotas que sabía que la podían cuidar.

Quiso correr hacia él, hacia ese hombre que de alguna manera jamás había conocido, pero al mismo tiempo, conocía.

Seeley la detuvo, sin sonrisa en el rostro, mas que la tatuada.

–Lo siento pero no. Si lo tocas te verá y esto se estropeará. Aquí no es el mismo y explicar el por qué estamos aquí destruiría toda esta trama.

La niña sintió su labio temblar.

Seeley la consoló con una sonrisa.

–Vamos a seguirlo. Se va a encontrar con tu mamá.

Los ojos oscuros de la infante se abrieron como platos. Mamá.

¿Mamá?

Mamá…

Su padre los condujo sin saberlo a una cafetería donde quedaban pocas personas y se reunió con una joven de cachetes rollizos, los mismos cachetes que tenía ella. También tenía unos ojos del color del grafito y sonreía como los ángeles debían de hacer.

Y fue cuando lo supo.

Sí era su madre.

Fue cuando supo que sí podrían existir días de excursiones familiares, momentos qué recordar en el parque, Navidades para los tres.

–No todos los universos cuentan una buena historia –susurró su nuevo amigo–. Espero que en este sí esté tu final feliz.

La niña no comprendió del todo las palabras, pero dijo un “Yo también” mientras observaba a su padre inclinarse sobre la mesa para besar en una delicada caricia los labios de esa mujer a la que veía por primera vez.

[danhowellol-blog]

~ CHAPTER 18 ~

[papabrownman-blog]

FlanFic: Generic Medieval-Style Adventure

We rode into Praedium at full pelt, and ordered our generals to gather our armies at once, in a large bay that was just south of where General Miller's navy had landed. The grey cloud that had lingered in the sky had receded by midday, and the sun was shining. We arrived before any of our soldiers. The bay was a perfect meeting place. A strip of gravel, half a mile wide and stretching into the distance, was bordered on one side by the ocean and on the other by thundercloud-grey cliffs. It was with some satisfaction that we noticed timber from the General's great armada being washed up on shore. Some of the flotsam was scorched in places, bearing the scars of the previous evening's fireship attack. It had weakened the invasion force, but it was still a very real threat, particularly since our troops had all performed an astonishing lightning march to meet the invasion on time.

It was about 2 o'clock when the first troops begun to amass on the bay. Kiran, Stanley and I had taken up a position on top of the mudstone cliffs, from which we had a commanding view over the beach. The first to arrive were Stan's royal guard. These troops had the best training and the best equipment available to any army in Idross, but there were numbers were reduced in light of Queen Florida's reluctance to commit all of the royal army to a battle. For the first time, I felt resentment towards the other bairds, but I shook it off. I wouldn't allow anything to cloud my judgement ahead of the battle. Instead, I focused back to the royal guard below us. There were probably around 1,000 men, all clad in steel plate armour. Each man carried a short sword, more designed for stabbing than for slashing or swinging, and a large rectangular shield, bearing the royal emblem; a golden bear on red. The Idrossian Guard are known for two things: ruthless efficiency in battle, and die-hard loyalty to the royal house. These characteristics made them fearsome opponents on the field of battle.

Soon after, the Praedite militia that we had rounded up on our journey north had arrived. They were not many in rank, but they came prepared. They were freelancers, mercenaries and swords for hire. They fought for their freedom. They had various assortments of armour; some armed to the teeth with vicious looking blades, and others wearing leather tunics and wielding daggers and knives. I could pick out a few boys, possibly none older than 16, wearing shirts and nervously clutching kitchen knives. Guilt seized me, but could do nothing to force them to go home.

By 4 o'clock, both Kiran's and my own militia had arrived. Kiran's Altumite army had a similar structure to mine: each of the landowning families provided men to fight. Dozens of family crests were all united under one banner in battle. They fought for fame and pride as well as loyalty. Being brought up in the jagged mountains of the north forces people to depend on each other to survive, but also that they must contribute as much as they can to help others survive. These qualities sculpt the clan members of the north into a race of battle-worthy warriors, coordinated and disciplined into a fighting machine, despite not being as well-equipped as the royal soldiers. Most troops in Kiran's and my armies had chainmail armour at best, and made do with whatever sharp weapons were available to them, not being able to afford their own modern set of armour and weapons. Many were armed with scythes, knives and other domestic items, and few had shields.

Just as the last groups of soldiers filed into rank, a scout ran up to our position at the top of the cliffs. "The General's army has landed", he cried out, breathless, "and they're marching south, towards us!". My heart began to pump harder. The hour of battle was upon us. I glanced towards Kiran and Stanley. Kiran looked somewhat indifferent, a hardened veteran of many battles beforehand. Stanley, on the other hand, looked anxious and unsure. I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. I looked him in the eye. "Do not be afraid", I told him, "our men are strong. They will not buckle easily. We will crush the invaders". This was no mere reassurance; I truly believed it myself. All we had to do was to hold back the General's army. They were far from home, and hence, far from supplies. We had undoubtedly damaged their cargo with the attack the previous night. We could starve them out. I looked up to see Kiran staring out over our army. We must have numbered 5,000, at least. He turned to face me. He was smiling. I could not help but smile back. It would be an honour to be fight side-by-side again. Kiran faced the army again, and produced a carved ivory horn. He raised it to his lips, and it produced a deep, echoing roar. It was met by a roar, volume intensified a hundredfold from the crowd below. We were at war.

[ladyflorida-blog]

Do I have to do this essay about the 1979 general election? Don't get me wrong, I love post-war politics as much as the next person, but I'm nearly finished the first chapter of the Flanfic...

[flowerparrish]

Original Fic: The Flan-Tastic Hawkeye by @shatteredhourglass

Marvel: Clint/Sam (+ implied polyamory)

Rated: General Audiences

Length: 10 minutes

Summary: 

Don't you love it when a flan comes together?

[flowerparrish]

Original Fic: creme caramel and useless leads by @themisfitthrone

The Tarot Sequence: Addam/Rune/Brand

Rated: General Audiences

Length: 5 minutes

Summary: 

Flan is thrown. A chef is angry. The leads lead absolutely nowhere.

[flowerparrish]

[PODFIC] TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION, I LOVE YOU - written by trashkingtater 

Marvel Comics: Wade/Clint

Rated: General Audiences

Length: 5 minutes

Summary: 

When they bring out the desert, even through the mask, Clint can see Wade’s entire frame light up with delight.

“You ordered us flan!” Xe says in a singsong voice.

“I know it’s your favorite,” Clint replies smoothly, successfully keeping his voice from cracking in his nervousness.

[teignoro-tarea]

Avance de flanfic

¡No es el de Offender!, pero sí una cosita en la que estaba trabajando y que se encuentra en la tanda de flanarts que le debo a Yolanda Chapa. No sé si será un songflic, porque hasta el momento no lo he tratado de esa manera... En fin, ahí les va el adelanto que creo que es el primer capítulo

Era de noche y llovía. Esperó mucho para encontrar el momento perfecto y éste parecía ser. Llevaba puesta una capa con capucha que le escondiera bien la identidad. Se sentía un poco ridícula, pero eso era lo de menos.   

Divisó a los hermanos de inmediato, donde quedaron de verse. Parecían disfrutar mucho de esta nueva dimensión. Les sentaba bien. Mathías fumaba; adoraba la sensación del palito ese entre sus labios y era un adicto a la nicotina y al aroma. Estaba recargado contra la pared, fría y húmeda. Elizama estaba cerca de él, de cunclillas, medio oculto entre “su hermano” y un bote de basura. Increíblemente, después de tanto tiempo lograba conservar un poco de inocencia, y eso se reflejaba en su mirada, que no se despegaba de ella y parecía preguntarle si estaba segura de lo que hacía. En realidad, no lo sabía, pero ya era muy tarde. Dbhani avanzó un paso hacia ella en cuánto la vio. El sonido de su tacón de aguja contra el empedrado encharcado del suelo le causó un escalofrío, de esos que hacía tiempo que no sentía.

–Rion no estará contento con esto –le sonrió la pelirroja. Sabía dónde y cómo meter el dedo en la llaga.

Su primera reacción fue la de hundirse en sí misma, como hacen los perros cuando los apalean. Pero lo evitó a toda costa. Lo que hizo fue decir:

–¿Acaso importa?

A Dbhani le gustó su respuesta.

Se cruzó de brazos y continuó:

–Ya nos tienes aquí. ¿Para qué nos querías?

Se apresuró a sacar de su bolsillo algo y al encontrarlo se acercó a la hermana, tendiéndole la fotografía que había impreso de una computadora horas antes.

–Es ella. Necesito que se deshagan de ella.

Los dos hermanos varones se acercaron a su hermana para ver a su víctima. Era una muchacha de recogido pelo negro, muy sonriente y algo morena. Con una blusa escotada, posaba junto a un libro cuya portada no se veía del todo bien gracias a la luz, y un florero.

–Yolanda Chapa –se las presentó–. Ella… la distrae mucho.

–¿Es eso un pecado? –rio por lo bajo Mathías.

No hubo respuesta.

–… De acuerdo –dijo Dbhani, doblando dos veces la fotografía y guardándola–. Nos desharemos de ella como un favor. En cualquier caso, el amo está hambriento y si es cierto que ella también escribe, esto lo tendrá llenito y contento por meses.

Elizama no pudo evitar sonreír. Le gustaba cuando el amo estaba llenito y contento.

En cualquier caso, Dbhani extendió la mano:

–Fue un placer hacer negocios contigo Kai…

–Kay –se apresuró a decir la otra, dándole la mano más para cortarla que para otra cosa–. Es Kay. Al menos hasta que no se registren los derechos.

–Entiendo.

Sin decir más, los tres hermanos se giraron y se fueron por donde llegaron.

Kai lo vio partir. Ahora ya no sabía qué sentir. Si debía avergonzarse o hallar placer en lo que acababa de hacer. Sin saberlo, se mordió el labio.

  ¿Qué harían? ¿Qué harían? Hacía tanto tiempo en que no capturaban una doncella para su amo, y hacerlo de nueva cuenta los hacía sentir tan vivos, tan llenos de energía, tan creativos…

¿Y si la amarraban bien atadita? Mathías sugería unas cuentas cuerdas o cadenas, quizás cuero, algo que acentuara el escote que en la foto se notaba. Su amo estaría complacido. Y en tumblr había encontrado las instrucciones para recrear una estrella invertida con una cuerda entre los pechos. Dios bendijera a la comunidad BDSM del internet, ¿no es verdad, Dbhani?

Qué idea tan repugnante, Mathías. Desde que descubriste el internet me das asco.

Elizama sugirió entonces volver a la tradición, conseguir una bonita caja, hacer que la Chapa se metiese en ella por medio de engaños y encerrarla con todo y cerradura de candado.

…Pero ya nadie cae en esa clase de trampas. Ni siquiera las palomas. Ni los estúpidos conejos.

Quizás entonces debían de ponerse en forma de nueva cuenta, sugirió el pequeño. Ya saben, tocar a la puerta, preparar el cañón y volarlo apenas apareciera la autora. En pedazos no pondría más gorro.

… y tampoco serviría para su amo.

Pero Kai dijo que…

¡Lo que ella dijo es bullshit! El amo siempre va primero.

Algo así discutían los hermanos mientras caminaban rumbo a su escondrijo. Tendrían que dar con alguna respuesta dentro de poco.

¡Uy! Era excitante volver al inicio.

Pero lo que ellos no sabían era que una figura los escuchaba, colgando boca abajo desde las aturas, alguien ponía mucha atención a lo que decían.

–D, hermano –susurró una vocecilla agria–, ¿ya sabes qué se traen esos entre manos?

D, el murciélago carcomido, abrió los ojos tras haber recabado la información y sin mirar a sus compañeros que lo esperaban de nueva cuenta en el techo del edificio de cuyas ruinas colgaba él, dijo:

–Van por Chapa.

–¿Yolanda Chapa? –preguntó Lola, la coneja de trapos quemada.

–La misma.

Ed, el ratón de peluche mal cocido, no ocultó su entusiasmo.

–¿Qué esperamos? Vayamos tras ellos.

Sus compañeros opinaban que no era tan mala idea. 

El resultado final puede variar. Y espero que varíe, porque no estoy de todo satisfecha con esto.

[teignoro-tarea]

Flanfic Gemades

Hasta donde se podía recordar, todo comenzó en un día soleado, de esos que hacen de Nuevo León un Estado desértico. Y comenzó con Gema…

Las cosas en el nuevo hogar prosperaban. Con Diómedes trabajando en el campo mágico de energía que los mantenía a salvo de miradas no deseadas humanas, Gema, Lani y Maquech se adaptaban fácilmente al ambiente.

Solamente los primeros días habían sido difíciles. Los quehaceres eran muchos y las visitas de las flans, constantes. Si bien eran ellas quienes proveían de comida y compañía, sobre todo cuando traían consigo a sus personajes. Uno podía acostumbrase a esa vida. Aunque extrañaban su dimensión original, mentirían si dijeran que no se habían encariñado con la nueva. Inclusive, los planes para formar una revuelta en contra de las flans que culminara en un majestuoso retorno eran ya casi memorias de un pasado distantes.

Aquella mañana en cuestión, Gema continuaba con las labores del hogar. Su tiempo como esclava la “malacostumbró” al trabajo, y ahora encontraba no sólo placer al realizarlo, sino que también hallaba en él un escape.

Tocaba tender la ropa.

Había una anécdota “divertida” en la que Gema pensaba mientras caminaba, alejándose de la casa en la que se habían instalado, camino al sitio en el que tendía la ropa recién lavada. Y es que recordaba la ocasión en que Maquech por fin había decidido despojarse de sus antiguos ropajes negros, y de la vez primera en que aceptó quitarse la ropa a la que apenas se estaba acostumbrando para que la lavaran. Los sonrojos de él y de Lani fueron los divertidos; pero lo fueron aún más las reacciones del rey brujo, Diómedes: aparentando calma, no queriendo volver platos sus ojos ni permitir que su rostro se colorease también, tanto como por pena al notar que él tarde o temprano tendría que hacer lo mismo, como por vergüenza de las cosas que ahora Maquech se atrevía.

La sonrisa de Gema se congeló unos segundos en su rostro y luego se desvaneció.

Todos estaban soportando el cambio a su manera, y casi la mayoría se había adaptado. Pero nunca había pensando en Diómedes, en cómo estaría él lidiándolo. De los cuatros, él era el más viejo, el que menos aceptaba a los humanos y al que más molestaban las flans. Debía estarla pasando muy mal. Pobre…

Ella nunca se había considerado egoísta. Caer en cuenta lo mucho que ignoraba la situación de su anterior amo le cayó como balde de agua fría.

Quizás debería charlarlo con los demás.

Quizás debería charlarlo con el propio Diómedes. Estaba más cooperativo desde que se resignó a su secuestro y retén…

Quizás…

    Lani y Maquech continuaban sus lecciones dentro de la casa. El nuevo hombre tenía mucho que olvidar y mucho que aprender. Diómedes los observaba de cerca.

Ninguno se sentía cómodo. Había algo en el ambiente que no los tenía en paz.

…

–¿Hace cuánto salió Gema? –preguntó Maquech, mirando de reojo a la princesa gitana y al rey brujo.

Lani se mordió el labio.

–No sé.

Estaba nerviosa y no quería admitirlo. Al menos no delante de Diómedes.

Diómedes, por cierto, no se había movido de su punto en horas. Típico de él. Pero sus ojos oscuros sí que lo habían hecho, suave, lentamente, una y otra vez; iban de los jovencitos con los que estaba a las ventanas de la casa y la noche que comenzaba a asomar por ella. Maquech podía oír dentro de su cabeza lo que el brujo pensaba:

–Salió cuando había luz –externó el joven–. Ya está anocheciendo. ¿Crees que deberíamos ir a buscarla…? Algo pudo haber ocurrido para que tardase tanto.

No. No es necesario quiso decir Lani. Gema puede cuidarse sola.  Su amiga había sobrevivido donde otras esclavas y prisioneras no, en un entorno de magia y juegos mentales, ¿por qué no habría de hacerlo en un mundo donde no existía magia que las dañara?

Pero a pesar de sus mejores deseos por no hacerlo, Lani no podía evitar estar preocupada.

–… Supongo que… tienes razón.

Maquech se sonrió poquito. Adoraba tener la razón.

Miró de reojo a Diómedes mientras Lani se alistaba para salir.

El rey brujo asintió levemente. Iría con ellos. La casa estaría a salvo a solas unos momentos.

    El sitio en el que vivían pudo haber tenido mejores tiempos, pero no lo eran en esos momentos. A pesar de sus mejores esfuerzos, las malezas y fauna se entrometían en cada rincón. Árboles resecos y bichos llenaban el aire con sus serenatas, hermosas pero tenebrosas cuando caía la noche.

El crepúsculo moribundo estaba en el cielo y las sombras comenzaban a besar los suelos.

Besando los suelos, reptando sobre raíces, hojas y la ocasional basura venida de la carretera, las sombran terminaban descansando sobre el cuerpo de Gema, muy lejos de donde la ropa se había secado, tendida sobre una cama de pétalos de rosa.

–¡Gema!

Lani y Maquech corrieron hacia el cuerpo.

Seguía respirando. Parecía estar dormida plácidamente. Pero no respondía cuando la llamaban ni a nada que le hiciese.

Mientras una lagrimita de miedo descendía por su rostro, Lani se preguntaba: ¿Qué le había ocurrido a su mejor amiga?  ESCRITO SOBRE LA MARCHA. EL RESULTADO FINAL PUEDE VARIAR. NINGUNO DE LOS PERSONAJES ES DE MI PROPIEDAD. CADA QUIÉN PERTENECE A SU RESPECTIVO AUTOR.

[papabrownman-blog]

FlanFic: Generic Medieval-Style Adventure

Chapter 1: The Harvest Feast.

Civil war had torn through the prosperous island nation of Idross. The royal family had been split down the middle by conflict, creating a shock wave which tore families throughout the country into two. Tensions had long been building in the monarchy; with a difference of opinion on foreign policy being the divisive factor. It was September 1262 when things finally came to a head. I was present in the palace when things kicked off.

It was harvest time in Idross. Legions of workers, armed with scythes took to the fields, hacking and slashing at their crops. It had been a particularly fruitful harvest that summer, and the whole nation was celebrating. Taverns were crowded after dark, people wore cheery smiles on their faces, despite the onset of a sharp autumnal cold snap. To celebrate, Queen Florida and King Stanley were hosting a majestic banquet at the royal palace, in the capital city of Gnavale, on the South coast. Gnavale was the jewel of the royal burgh of Seplasium. All of the major lairds were invited. I was the laird of Amarus, in the far North. It is a cold, harsh place with icy peaks, and living there is difficult. The conditions had sculpted my people into survivors; a no-nonsense culture where you must work together or die. This mentality had made my people hard-working, resilient and excellent fighters. I set out from my capital city of Absonus on the 13th. It is a two day sail, often through harsh weather. En route, we stopped at the city of Mollis so that Sir Kiran of the Altum Islands could embark with us. Kiran was a great ally of mine, and my burgh was closest on the mainland to his. His islands were remote, and had made his people much the same as mine, which brought us together as comrades and friends. 

We arrived in the Gnavale docks on the evening of the 15th of September, just in time for the great feast, which was to be on the 16th. There was shocking news awaiting us - Lady Venus of Praedium had been shipwrecked on her journey south. She had died. Idross was in shock - Venus had been one of the most prominent lairds in the country. The banquet was to go ahead, but it was to double up as a memorial service for the late Venus. Kiran and I made haste to Castle Flan that night.

Castle Flan had been completed a decade earlier, in 1251. It was built on top of a hill at the opposite end of the city from the harbour. It had 3 towers, each of which seemed to spiral into the dark autumnal sky. Even from the ship, Castle Flan was impressive, holding an imperious position which granted a view that covered the entire city. The night sky was clear, and was peppered with bright stars. We made our way uphill, through crowds of bustling sailors running to and from the port and the market, past common merchants selling their wares in the narrow, torch-lit streets. The streets were draped with bright colours; dyed rugs of every imaginable colours, freshly imported fruits and vegetables and ornate pottery. It was a far cry from our icy white homeland in the North, and we had no desire for such needlessly delicate things. Within half an hour of leaving our ship, we had arrived at the gate to the castle. 

It was clearly a place of mourning. The flags of Seplasium and of Idross were flying at half-mast. The members of the royal court stood around in small groups, murmuring softly in hushed tones. Everyone wore black, whether it be a topcoat, bonnet or veil. We bowed our heads and walked quietly to the door leading to the entrance hall. Queen Florida was waiting for us inside. She was accompanied by the other lairds; James of Littus, Katy of Aecor, Lewis of Sylva and Melody of Culmen. I nodded my head to the latter, as she was a neighbour of mine and shared the same hardened mind-frame. Every member of the Idrossian Council was wearing all black. I felt distinctly overdressed in my thick coat of fur. King Stanley was nowhere to be seen. Queen Florida stepped forwards to greet us. I saw that a single tear had run down her face, and it left a track that glistened in the candle light. Simultaneously, Kiran and I dropped down in sweeping bows. Florida nodded to us, and we both stood back up again. Outside, wind had begun to whistle through the courtyards, making torches flicker and gutter. 

King Stanley came down the main staircase, cut from smooth white marble and decked with a luxurious red carpet. He wore a simple black tailcoat, and walked slowly and morosely. But his body language betrayed this front of mourning. It was no secret that Stanley had never been Venus' closest ally, and I seemed to detect that he was considerably less saddened than many that were assembled on that day. A servant opened the magnificent oakwood double doors to the dining hall at that moment, but I seemed to catch Florida throwing a glare at Stanley, who either didn't notice the look, or was unaffected by it. We all stepped into the dining hall, and conversations bubbled up quietly like a mountain stream. The hall contained one long table, seated for 9 people. Venus' chair, carved elegantly with the emblem of Praedium, was left empty, other than a black silk cloth that had been cast over the seat. The emptiness of the chair drew the eye to it in morbid fascination. I was seated between Melody and Lewis. Lewis was the laird of Sylva. We had never really connected, I had always thought that his people were aloof and made a business out of being in harmony with the forests that sprawled over his western burgh. In turn, I felt that he had always believed my people to be as cold and hard as the ice that dominated our lives for most of the year. There were no hostilities between us, but I had never felt compassion for the southern burghs. They did not appreciate the simplicities of just surviving a harsh winter.

At that moment, Queen Florida stood up and raised a silver goblet. King Stanley remained seated, looking disinterested. To me, it seemed as though heated words had been spoken between the two of them, no doubt over the late Lady Venus, whom Florida had always been attached to. Those heated words were about to explode exponentially, and change all our lives forever.

[papabrownman-blog]

FlanFic: Rewind.

There was a light on in the kitchen. Stan turned off his torch, and walked towards the kitchen as stealthily as he could. There was a figure bent over the counter, clutching her head. Stan blinked blankly, before realising who the person was Melody was carefully removing the bandage that was wrapped around her head. Stan coughed a little. Melody spun around on the spot, stopping so she was staring straight at Stan. Her bandage-wrapped hand was resting on the weapon at her hip, but she relinquished it when she saw it was Stan. Stan flinched slightly at the gash running along the top of Melody's skull. Nodding towards a drawer, he said, "there are bandages in there, if you need them". Melody muttered thanks and took some. She sat down at the kitchen table, and started to wrap the new bandages around her head.

Stan went to sit opposite her, but hesitated. Mid-sit, Stan asked "er- would you like some tea?". Melody gave a small smile at Stan's British sensibilities. "That'd be great", she replied. Stan filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove. The flame beneath it crackled gently. Other than the sound of Melody wrapping the bandage around her head, it was the only noise in the house. Stan sat down. "So, what's your story, then?", he asked curiously. Melody looked up at Stan with a strange look on her face. It made Stan think of someone who had been through a lot, but had never given up, and had come out of it with incredible stories. But she just shook her head, and told Stan that he wouldn't believe her in a million years. Stan's protest was cut short by the shriek of the kettle. 

Getting up once more, Stan took the kettle off the flame, and began searching around for mugs. "What's happened here?", Melody asked, "or has it always been like this?". Stan gave her a confused look. "Where have you been for the last month?", he said with an expression of befuddlement. Melody just shrugged, with the mysterious look on her face again. Stan believed that she really didn't know. He walked back over to the table, with a cup of steaming tea in each hand. Gingerly placing them down, Stan resumed his seat, and put his elbows on the table, locking his fingers together and placing his chin on them. Pensively, Stan looked at Melody, who was staring back with interest. "It's a pretty long story", he began.

[papabrownman-blog]

FlanFic: A little baby teaser for Flan Clan Fridays.

The night sky rippled. There was a rustling, like dry autumn leaves stirring in a breeze. A wind seemed to kick up, blowing litter in a spiral around the fluctuating air. Suddenly, there was a loud sucking sound, and the rustling briefly rose to a roar. As the disturbance reached a crescendo, there was a large pop, and a figure materialised from nowhere, landing feet first on the pavement. The figure looked around, but the street was deserted. Orange streetlamps illuminated an empty high street, with nobody in sight. 'Interdimensional travel', said the figure. It was a lady. 'A bit rough, but it does the job. Hello? Is anyone there?'. Her words were met with an eerie silence for a few seconds. Then, there was the sound of glass crashing to the ground nearby. The lady spun on the spot to face the sound. From a shattered shop window, a figure limped slowly towards her. The limping silhouette reached a streetlamp, throwing it into grim relief. Its face had a scorched look, and its hair had fallen out in patches. Its skin seemed to be peeling off in places. The lady recoiled at the sight of it, as it opened its mouth and let out a chilling, gurgling roar.

The guttural sound caused her blood to curdle, and her heart to leap into her mouth. Then there was a high pitched shriek that rang around the high street. 'STEP ON IT, STAN!', came the yell. Both the woman and the creature turned around to search for the sound of the shout. A pair of headlights were glaring in the distance. The roar of a car's engine grew louder. Both of them continued to strain their eyes to see into the darkness. Then, the vehicle appeared. It was a blurred mass of dark paint and screeching tyres. It never occurred to either woman nor monster to move out of the way. In the blink of an eye, it was alongside them. There was a glint of sharp metal, the sound of slicing through the air followed by a sickening squelch, and the monster's head flew through the air. The body stood upright for a moment, and then fell forwards, hitting the ground with a dull thud. The car's tortured brakes squealed in pain, as the driver swung it around, and brought it to a halt in front of the startled woman. A face appeared out of the window.

'Hello, I'm a lady', she said. 'Name's Florida, to be precise. And this is Stanley'. Stan's head peered around Florida's to look at the dumbstruck woman. 'You picked a bad time to arrive out of nowhere', Florida continued. 'M-Melody', stutttered the woman, who was still in disbelief at her first two minutes on the planet. 'Nice to meet you', said Florida cheerfully, 'step in the back, then'. Melody nodded, opened the door and clambered into the back. 'What's going on?', she asked. 'Have you been living in a cave for the last month', Stan replied in disbelief. 'That's rude, Stan', retorted Florida, before continuing. 'It's a long story...', she begun.