#Gil carries her the whole way home of course

[softquietsteadylove]

Another drama for the runaway bride? Maybe Eros really comes over and tries to get Thena back? And it comes to the point where Gil has to intervene 😃

Gil cracked the reins on the horse again, forcing the poor creature onward. But he knew where he needed to go, and he needed to get there before Eros did. "Come on!"

The horse voiced its concern but sped through the trees and towards the higher roads. He was heading in almost the opposite direction really. But the road for horses spiralled down the mountain. He needed to get to the steepest part, where he could cut him off.

He had Thena.

Gil had been out on his usual day. He was meeting his quotas. He had actually been staying out a little longer than necessary. Everyday, after he had fulfilled the work he needed to do for payment, he would find some good trees and work on getting boards and beams from them.

He wanted to expand the cabin. He wanted it to feel like a home for Thena as much as him. And while she was quite at home, he wanted to make more of a house than his open bodied bachelor hut. He would add onto the cabin's end and make a real, proper bedchamber for them. Maybe he could even add a bath room, if the winter was late this year.

He was just heading home when he heard it--the sound of hooves. He had taken off in a sprint towards home. He didn't hear the loud rattling of a carriage on the road, and there wasn't a whole infantry this time either. But the running of a horse was unmistakable.

When he did get home, he had found the door open, Thena's berry basket on the porch and its contents spilled everywhere, as if she had been dragged away by the ankles. The tracks of the horse were fresh. He knew what he had to do. Her captor being on horse was a good thing. No one could navigate the woods well enough to run a creature through it. He had moved around the side of the house. The guard sent with the prince - and to apprehend Gil, no doubt - was waiting in the garden for him.

Gil didn't like violence. He was a peaceful man. But he picked up the shovel and struck the man with such force that the metal against his helmet sounded like canon fire. The man went down and Gil had taken his horse without a second thought.

He was no rider, but he knew what he had to do.

Now, he was barrelling towards a cliffside, waiting for their paths to align. He had to time it right. And he couldn't risk Thena getting seriously hurt in the process. His timing had to be perfect.

As he began to see the road laid out below, curving along with the shape of the mountain, he heard it. He craned his head backwards. A horse was speeding down the road, right in the middle of it. The prince was riding with one hand on his reins and another over his shoulder.

Thena was slung over it, bound like a wild boar he had captured (disgraceful treatment of a lady).

Either he couldn't hear her over the two horses unknowingly racing each other, or she was gagged as well as bound. For a prince, he had truly treated Thena the way a barbarian would.

Gil pulled back on his reins, only slightly. He had to get this right. He patted the horse's neck, muttering his apologies to it. Poor thing didn't deserve what was about to happen. But it was for a good cause.

Eros rounded the bend swiftly, Thena in hand. Of course, with such a sharp curve, and at the speed he was travelling, he had to take it as widely as possible. Gil watched until he was at the thinnest part of the road, closest to the edge.

He cracked the reins.

The horse brayed, screaming as it leapt over the edge of the elevation and plummeted over the edge, legs flailing. Gil reached out, plowing into the prince from behind and wrapping his arms around Thena. It was chaos, everything hurt and his eyes were barely open. But he wrapped his arms around her and kept rolling.

The two horses lay in the road, crying out in distress and probably pain. Gil dragged him and Thena both off the edge and below the road. Somehow, they managed to slither into the trunk of a tree. It was a very familiar tree, with a base large and hollow enough for someone to use as shelter. It was tight with both of them.

"Thena?!"

Gil held her head against his shoulder as Eros wailed for her. He had thought the prince a spoiled and perhaps delicate creature. But listening to him bellow her name with rage in his bones, perhaps he was a man of drive after all.

"Thena!!!"

Gil worked on the rope around Thena's wrists. He would let Eros tire himself out up there. If he didn't fully know what happened, all the better. He could scream his head right off his shoulders. He pulled the cloth from within her mouth like a horse's bridle. He whispered, "Thena?"

She winced, but her sparkling green eyes opened. Her mouth opened but he pressed it against his chest again.

"I know you're there, lumberjack!"

Thena's newly unbound hands clutched at him. He held her tightly. They could keep running as long as they needed, as far as he was concerned. He would sooner burn down the cabin - his life's work - and start anew somewhere than hand Thena over to that cretin.

"Your highness!"

It was harder to hear as the new voice joined them. The two men spoke amongst themselves, the guard no doubt explaining how he had been assailed and woken up to his horse missing. Eros knew he had something to do with it, but there was no substantial evidence that he had. Right now, it just seemed that a horse had gotten spooked and run right over the edge in its panic.

"Another day, Thena dear!" Eros promised in a menacing tone (at least Gil found it very menacing). He was hovering close to the edge, looking into the woods below for evidence of his escaped prey.

"Your highness, what of the horse?"

There was a long pause, and then Eros was yelling again. "Put it down! And next time you see the lumberjack, do exactly the same!"

Thena clutched at him again but he rubbed her back. He was quite sure Eros didn't have that kind of mettle to him. Even if he did, that would have to be addressed at a later date. He held her still, waiting until there no sounds of distressed horses, or the clatter of armour and swords. He waited much longer than that.

Eventually he shifted. His legs were all pins and needles. Even if they had laid a trap for them, he doubted they were going to wait all night. He shifted Thena in his arms, pressing his finger to her lips. Even if they were waiting, they couldn't know she was with him.

Gil crawled out of the tree, looking around furtively as a fawn with every movement. He peeked up the hill, trying to determine if their hunters were lying in wait. He crawled on his belly, through the pine needles and twigs. He made it to the road's edge.

The horse was gone. Perhaps Eros was more bluster than substance after all. Gil had to admit he hoped the horse would not be put down for what he had demanded of it. He slid back down to their tree shelter.

Thena looked at him, tears in her eyes.

He just nodded, holding out his hand for her. It was a long walk if they took the roads. Her feet were bare, proving that they had broken into the cabin and snatched her away.

She crawled out to join him, collapsing into his chest. He rubbed her back, letting her sob into his shirt. What a fright for his runaway bride to have. And he had failed to protect her, yet again.

They made it back to the road, at least. He looked at Thena, who seemed completely in a daze. Her feet were covered in mud from the road, probably scratched and wounded all over again. He would prepare one of her favourite foot baths when they got home.

Would it still feel like home to her? After having been taken from its very steps?

Gil moved deftly, sweeping her up into his arms so she wouldn't have to walk a single more step. She didn't say anything as he looped her arm around the back of his neck. He didn't say anything either, although he looked at her as her fingers touched his cheek.

"Are you hurt?"

He smiled faintly. Her voice was steady, if a little raw. "No, I'm not hurt. Are you?"

She shook her head, looking at him like she had never seen him before he had fallen from the sky. "I tried to call for you, but he put that cloth in my mouth. I scratched him."

Gil examined the mix of blood an dirt under her delicate fingernails. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple, "that's my girl."

She let out something resembling a laugh as well, resting her head more comfortably on his shoulder. "What will we do, Gil? Will they keep coming after us?"

"I don't know, sweetheart." It was a pitiful offering. But it was his most honest one.

"I don't want to leave our home."

"I know." He didn't particularly want to either. But perhaps that would be best for his runaway bride.

"I'm surprised claiming we were married had no effect. I thought surely if Eros thought you'd already had me that he would no longer have any interest."

Gil blushed. He would also assume something like that, honestly. But clearly Eros either didn't believe her or didn't care even if it was true. But surely if they were married, there was nothing he nor her father could do.

They had to find a way to wed.

[wildstar25]

☩: Your muse is doing some intense spring cleaning. What is easy for them to throw out, and what is difficult for them to part with? Little bonus: Is there anything specific Arsay is particularly sentimental about?

OOh this is a tough question actually. Arsay didn't grow up with a whole lot, but her recent life as an adventurer has caused her to just collect so many little things. It can be hard for her to let go of stuff she had to spend any of her gil on, or things that were given to her by other people. Arsay is actually so sentimental. Any item she pulls out could be something that remind her of certain events, people or places...

I suppose the first thing she'd clear out is monster by products. Materials that she kept on her after a hunt thinking she'd find a use for it. Now she just kinda dumps the stuff with the researchers in labarynthos, thinking maybe they'd find a use for it. Oh and materia. Tbh i think she goes to a melder asks them to throw shit on her gear, and then donates the rest to the doman enclave so they can sell it.

--- The stuff she really really cares about though is always going to be the stuff she wears at all times. Her rings (one from each partner), the matching bracelet with Y'shtola, Her earnings from G'raha, her choker that has a chunk of syrcus tower crystal embedded in it. BUT The thing she is the most sentimental about is her ribbon. I've mentioned this in the past, but I always imagined it to be a large swatch of fabric and assorted charms that her parents bought in Kugane as they made their way to orthard. It was sent to Emrara's island along with a note for Arsay which would be their first and final correspondence to her. When Arsay was very very young, and still had hope of her parents return, shed carry the fabric around like a blankie almost. When she finally gave up on and accepted her parents forgot about her, she spitefully hid that fabric away hoping to forget it and her parents. It was on her last visit to her home island before leaving for Eorzea that Emrara presented her with the fabric again fashioned into the headband/ribbon. Emrara giving her a gift of any kind was a rarity, so of course Arsay accepted regardless of how it drudged up bad memories. She simply did her best everyday to remind herself not to think about it and to remember that this was a good thing she got from her aunt who maybe loves her. Once she learned that her parents died in orthard and did not actually forget her at all, she was all the more glad to have kept the thing. I don't think she'll ever be tempted to rid herself of it.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Prompt #4 - Off The Hook

Character: Bexy The Black Shroud, 1572, Sixth Astral Era

Sun had long dipped low in the canopy of the Shroud, amber yellows to glowing reds which had eventually simmered into the darkness of nighttime. Rare it was that she was ever seen in the daylight bells, which some might have attributed to at least half her namesake.

She'd slipped into the establishment some time ago; not too far off the beaten path that it was still frequented. It had been a sennight, now, since the incident. Her clothes didn't smell so strongly of smoke as they once did, but the air of caution she always carried and skillfully hid is in full force.

A Wildwood missing half of one of his ears; seemingly bitten away if the remaining teethmarks were go to by anything is the one who always catches her attention, organising various spirits at the back of the bar. His roguish grin falls on Bexy, then.

"And there she is! My favourite customer!" He beams, and it's almost enthusiastic enough to no longer be sincere. "Your usual?"

"Everyone is your favourite customer so long as they're paying, Silfont. Yes please." A small stack of neatly lined gil-coins is set on the counter; exact for what she had desired, a single measure of honey brandy.

"You wound me, girl! But you're right." He laughs, turning to pluck up a glass and pour a rich, golden liquid from a bottle, where a honeycomb was imprisoneed in the bottle. "You're more favourite than most. Easier on the eyes. And you always pay."

Those dark purple eyes lid, dusted with dark and lined to add just enough cycles to her to catch enough attention, the hem of her shirt plunging low enough that it wouldn't take too much more imagination for what was hidden. Leaning in her customary way against the bartop, her tail curls at her leg, swaying as painted fingernails tap at the glass of her drink, before bringing it to equally painted lips. "You flatter me." She half-cooes, glancing to the open corner behind her, devoid of chairs and tables. "No bard this sun?"

"Nah. Been hard to get a hold of any after what happened. You hear about the poor bastard? The one from the other sun?"

Bexy stares, intrigued. A lofted brow feigns her ignorance. "Go on?"

"...Burned alive in his bed. Whole house went up in flames. People reckon it's his wife that did it. Fucking grey." He half spat. "Killed him for his coin, i reckon."

"Oh, that's -awful-." The word is emphasised, hand delicately placed on her chest to convey just how terrible she truly felt. "He seemed so nice, when we spoke." Hiding the brief flicker of bared teeth with a drink, she peers up to Silfont with a question. "...So they're still looking for the murderer? Or...?"

"Nah, they've got her. Found her crying in some cave, much as you'd expect. Innocent people don't run, yeah? She's a thaumaturge, too. It all adds up."

"Well... That's good that they've got her. What a terrible thing to do." She finishes the glass just as quickly, this time to hide the smile that had crawled over her lips. Finding her coinpurse, Bexy begins counting another stack of coins. "...Don't suppose you still have a bottle left?"

"Half of one. You bought the other last week."

"Mm. So i did." She settles another identical stack of coins on the bartop, where the contents of the dwindling bottle of honey brandy sought to refill her glass.

She did buy the bottle. That much, she remembered well. She'd intended to drink at least some of it, sharing the other half with the handsome bard she had gone home with... Which in hindsight, she supposed she had done, in some fashion.

Bexy had fully intended to rob him; relieve him of his coin, as she had done with so many others, but that all changed when his wife returned home, tear stricken and furious for his betrayal, who just as quickly made her departure.

The bottle was shared, of course. Tied to the bed though he was, Bexy made sure he had more than his share as it covered him... And with a nearby candle, set the contents, and him, alight.

"Most people's tastes don't run quite so sweet. You're lucky i keep getting this in." Silfont warns, sloshing the contents of the bottle in front of her.

"You're right..." Bexy begins. A single index runs the length of the bottle, from neck to base, as she continues to peer up to him.

"...I am very, very lucky."

[absynthe--minded]

Beren, the Nauglamír, and Editorial Oversight

this is gonna be a long one, guys.

so one of the things that makes Christopher Tolkien’s contributions to the greater legacy of the Tolkien Legendarium so complex is that he, as the posthumous editor of his father’s works, essentially was able to declare what is or isn’t “canon” in a way that no amount of scholarship (fannish or professional) will be able to truly successfully challenge. it’s his vision of Arda that was published as the Silmarillion, and his interpretations of the Professor’s works that have come to act as the standard and the baseline. after all, the Silm’s been traditionally published and translated into many languages; it’s far more accessible than out-of-print/print-on-demand copies of the History, and reading it doesn’t require you to slog through pages and pages of commentary or to have a good solid understanding of what the story is so you can follow along with lists of bullet points outlining events timeline-style.

of course, Chris also made mistakes, and those mistakes became enshrined in canon just as surely as anything else. I and many others have discussed the Gil-galad problem (namely, that Gil-galad’s parentage is oblique and strange at best and downright contradictory at worst, and Christopher’s choice to make him Fingon’s son was an admitted error) but it’s not the only case of a decision later proving to be the wrong one.

with that background, let’s talk about Beren.

Beren and Lúthien are in an unusual position in the Legendarium as a whole. Not only are they the sole author-insert characters, they’re also uniquely positioned as moral compasses - every other person in the Silm is morally ambiguous to some degree, or does bad or questionable things; not so with these two. If Beren or Lúthien does something, it’s explicitly the right thing to do, and this is confirmed by the narrative. If someone else opposes them, that is the wrong course of action. They’re not merely protagonists who make a lot of good choices, they’re good people, and the things they do are right because of their moral fiber and nobility. Of the active agents who are developed to any great degree, they’re the least complex and the most clear-cut, and the narrative itself treats them differently from other characters, validating them and framing them as the sort of spotless heroes that are in short supply in this Age.

This characterization runs headlong into the actions Beren takes in early drafts of the story and in the published Silm, where after dwarves kill Thingol and sack Menegroth, Beren (with the help of some allies, usually either Green-elves or Ents) ambushes them and duels the Lord of Nogrod for possession of the Nauglamír, a necklace originally owned by Finrod in Nargothrond that Húrin brought to Doriath after his release from Angband. Thingol commissioned dwarven artisans to alter the piece and create a setting in it for the Silmaril that Beren and Lúthien had won for him from Morgoth, and there was a dispute about payment that escalated to violence and ended in his death at dwarvish hands. The battle, later called the Battle of the Thousand Caves, was more or less a victory for dwarvish forces, as they escaped both with the Nauglamír and several other treasures from Menegroth and they defeated Sindarin forces that set out to stop them.

In most versions of the story, Melian sends Mablung to Ossiriand to warn Beren and Lúthien of what’s happened, and essentially asks them to do something to stop the retreating dwarvish forces from reaching Nogrod, where they came from. Beren does this, killing the Lord of Nogrod himself and taking the Nauglamír and the Silmaril home to Lúthien, who then gives it to Dior, who takes it back to Doriath when he takes the throne there. This is the version of the tale that’s in the published Silmarillion, and the one that’s consistent throughout the earlier drafts that Tolkien himself wrote.

But it’s not the only version that exists.

In The War of the Jewels, which compiles versions of the story written late in Tolkien’s life, we find The Tale of Years. This is not a cohesive narrative, instead functioning (like many of the writings that make up the bulk of the History of Middle-Earth) rather like a series of bullet points mentioning and summarizing key events. It progresses chronologically, giving a sense of passing time and organization to the First Age, and it has this to say about the Nauglamír and the battle at Sarn Athrad:

“The Dwarves of Belegost and Nogrod invade Doriath. King Elu Thingol is slain and his realm ended. Melian escapes and carries away the Nauglamír and the Silmaril, and brings them to Beren and Lúthien. She then forsook Middle-earth and returned to Valinor.

Curufin and Celegorm, hearing of the sack of Menegroth, ambushed the Dwarves at the Fords of Ascar as they sought to carry off the Dragon-gold to the mountains. The Dwarves were defeated with great loss, but they cast the gold into the river, which was therefore after named Rathlóriel. Great was the anger of the sons of Fëanor to discover that the Silmaril was not with the Dwarves; but they dared not to assail Lúthien. Dior goes to Doriath and endeavours to recover the realm of Thingol.”

(This quote is taken from the latest and typed version of the Tale of Years, an earlier handwritten version exists that is shorter but includes the same relevant details.)

Christopher Tolkien elected not to use this version of events, instead choosing to maintain the earlier tale where Beren had an active role; he was never truly satisfied with this, or with the Ruin of Doriath as a whole. In the commentary to the Tale of Years he wrote that “It seemed at that time that there were elements inherent in the story of the Ruin of Doriath as it stood that were radically incompatible with ‘The Silmarillion’ as projected, and that there was here an inescapable choice: either to abandon that conception, or else to alter the story. I think now that this was a mistaken view, and that the undoubted difficulties could have been, and should have been, surmounted without so far overstepping the bounds of the editorial function.” We have, for a second time, an admission of error, though unlike the Gil-galad question there is not a specific choice singled out as a flaw.

Why am I talking about this? Well, simply, I think that the version of the story where Celegorm and Curufin attack the Dwarvish host is the one that makes the most sense, and I’m here to make my case for its adoption as fanon. I’m not trying to take a purely scholarly view - I can’t prove that Tolkien’s true vision was for this version of the text, and of course it’s only in the one draft - but as a fandom we’ve reached the consensus before that specific versions of the story are preferred, even when they only appear in a single draft (Amrod’s death at Losgar stands out as the best example).

So here’s my argument. 

1. Beren is not a violent man, and having him act as a murderer is out of character.

This one is pretty simple - Beren is an outlaw fighting against Sauron, a defender of his family’s land, a nobleman in his own right, and a vegetarian who is keenly aware of what it is to be hunted and pursued. The man we’re introduced to in the other versions of the story is not someone who would answer violence with violence unless there was no other choice, and in fact he becomes less violent as the story goes on. Putting him in a position where he’s acting militarily against the Dwarves introduces elements to his character that simply don’t exist before this story. It’s inconsistent, and it also ends his life on a strange, sour note - he’s not an uncomplicated hero anymore, he’s also got blood on his hands.

2. Beren is one of the moral compasses of the Silmarillion, and having him be the one to spearhead the ambush of the Dwarves frames that act of violence in a very troubling light.

Like I said above, Beren and Lúthien are good people who do good things, and those things are good because of who’s doing them. If Beren kills the Dwarves and the Lord of Nogrod, that act becomes justifiable, and perhaps even the right thing to do, simply due to the fact that one of the two true heroes of the First Age is doing it. The narrative never frames this as a downfall or a moral event horizon for Beren, either - he made the correct decision and the consequences that come afterward aren’t things that can be blamed on him. But wholesale slaughter, even slaughter of people who do bad things, is not something Tolkien ever condones or paints in a truly positive light, so it makes more sense for it to come at the hands of people who aren’t solely positive forces. It’s thematically in line with what Tolkien does through the rest of the text, and it feels more like Arda, at least to me. I think an argument could be made that Tolkien realized that making Celegorm and Curufin the responsible party would achieve this end, and that’s why this version exists in the first place, but there’s no proof of it.

3. The Laiquendi are nonviolent, and it makes no sense for them to be involved in this fight. The Ents being involved at all is somewhat nonsensical based on what we know of them in The Lord of the Rings.

Another simple one - we don’t know much about the Laiquendi, but we know they’re not really keen on warfare or on any undue violence, so having them be Beren’s backup is a weird divergence from their presentation in the rest of the Legendarium. And the Ents are pretty universally depicted as uninvested in the wars of the incarnates, only taking action against Saruman when it becomes apparent they have no other choice - why should they care about Thingol’s death, or care enough to murder dwarves?

4. Melian’s actions make far more sense in a version of the story where she doesn’t merely abandon Doriath once she realizes Thingol is dead.

If Menegroth is already sacked, and she cannot hold the realm together on her own as its Queen without really fucking shit up with reality-warping shadow magic, her choice to abandon it after delivering the Silmaril safely to her daughter and warning her that Dior will be needed soon is far less irresponsible.

5. Celegorm and Curufin ambushing the dwarves makes more sense than any other alternative.

Of course Celegorm and Curufin were actively watching Doriath for any sign of weakness. Of course they noticed the dwarves leaving with stolen treasures, and heard rumors that Thingol was dead and his killers had the Silmaril. Given the choice of following Melian (if they even were aware of Melian’s departure) and following dwarves, of course they picked the dwarves. Their ambush and attack and slaughter is consistent with their past behavior, as is their refusal to attack Lúthien because they were scared as fuck of her.

What’s more, this also explains the Fëanorians’ refusal to attack Doriath immediately after the dwarves do - they were unsure of whether or not Lúthien was in Menegroth and ruling as its queen or acting in some capacity as Dior’s defender. Celegorm in particular isn’t the type to hesitate - he’s impulsive, and rash, and rushes into bad decisions without considering their consequences, it’s even in his name. But they waited for years, giving Dior time to marry and have children of his own, and then even sent letters rather than attack directly - and yes, some of this might have been Maedhros’s influence, or an attempt by all of them to stave off the Oath, but it’s also plausible that they were trying to figure out whether or not they’d have to take on the same woman who made fools of them before.

I, at least, think this version of the story makes the most sense, and I’ll be adopting it into my personal canon. I obviously think it’s worth advocating for on a larger scale, and I hope I’ve made a good argument for its widespread adoption.

[tchallasbabymama]

M’Baku’s Love Chapter 7

Hey lovelies! I originally wanted to get this done by Valentines day so y’all could get a double update. Close enough, right?

Anyways, check out my masterlist HERE to catch up and check out my other stories.

Word count: ~5500

CW: smut, drug use

Monae’s heart started beating out of her chest the moment he turned and left her at her apartment door. She hadn’t been on a date with someone new in seven years and had just started to panic when she remembered that she and M’Baku had already gone on what most people would consider dates. The only exception was that now they were both free to express their feelings for eachother. 

Her buzzer rang out as she finished the sharp point of her eyeliner, and suddenly all of her nerves vanished. It's just M’Baku, she told herself, chill out. Just the thought of him made her giddy and she ran to the living room to buzz him up. She bit her lip in anticipation and waited for the knock on her door.

It didn’t come when she thought it would, so she looked out the peephole and saw him fidgeting with his hands, pacing back and forth before he turned to knock on the door. She couldn’t get over how handsome he looked, but she wanted to play it cool. She waited a few seconds before opening the door so he wouldn’t think she was standing there waiting for him the whole time...even though she definitely was. His eyes trailed up and down her physique and she was thankful her brown skin hid her blushing. Her outfit was doing exactly what she had intended.

“Hi”

“Hi, yourself,” her eyes raked up and down his body, too.

They stared at each other for a moment before she moved aside so he could come in. The moment the door closed he pulled her in for a kiss. 

“You look amazing,” he held her hand and twirled her around so he could get the full view.

“And you look like a whole snack. You sure you don’t want to just stay in?”

He laughed and snaked his arms around her waist, “I’m sure.” He kissed her forehead and let her go right as Juju came over to say hello to her new favorite person.

“Can I get you anything? Water, juice, whiskey?”

“Water would be great, thank you.”

“So about this art festival, have you ever been to one?” she asked as she poured him a glass of cold water and handed it to him.

“Of course, we have them at home all the time,” he sat on the couch with Juju and let her curl up in his lap. “We Jabari are very talented people.” 

Monae loved how prideful he could be when it came to his tribe, but it was always accompanied by a bittersweet feeling deep inside her. As much as she loved that about him, it always hurt to think about him returning home to rule over his people. 

“Well, I’m almost done getting ready, so just give me like five more minutes.”

“No rush, I will just be here with my new best friend, Juju,” he said, partially to Monae and partially to the cat.

Monae playfully rolled her eyes and shuffled back to her room to put the finishing touches on her makeup. She put her shoes on while she let the liquid lipstick dry on her lips, and grabbed her purse before heading back to her living room to find M’Baku on the floor trying to get Juju to play with a cat toy. She snuck a quick picture on her phone before she made her presence known.

“Having fun?”

“I was trying to, but someone will not cooperate,” he looked up before turning back to the cat, “I thought we were friends.”

Monae couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, bringing a smile to his face as well. He dropped the cat toy and hopped up, pulling her in by her waist and kissing her cheek so as not to mess up her lipstick.

“Ready?”

“Let’s go!”

M’Baku went to wash his hands as Monae searched for her keys.

“Where the- oh, duh, there they are. Ok now I’m actually ready,” she said excitedly before turning to her fur baby, “Be good, Juju.”

The cat meowed and the two humans were out the door.

When they arrived at the festival, Monae’s eyes lit up at all the sights and sounds and he couldn't help but stare at her face as it brightened.

“So where to first?” he asked, looking around at all the vendors and stages set up around the park.

Monae looked up and saw someone pass by eating elote that looked like it tasted like heaven.

“Excuse me, where’d you get that?” she stopped a lady walking by.

M’Baku simply stared at Monae’s beauty as the stranger directed them to the food truck.

“Thank you!” she said excitedly before pulling M’Baku over in the direction of the food court section of the park.

“You’re hungry already?”

“The food is like half the fun of these things, come on!”

Monae found the elote truck and gladly waited in the quickly-moving line. M’Baku’s arms wrapped around her waist and he rested his head on top of hers as they slowly swayed to the music coming from the  stage on the other side of the food trucks.  She loved when he did that, he made her feel safe and secure. 

When they finally made it to the front of the line she ordered two elotes, one for both of them.  The vendor handed them to her and she took a bite of hers, doing her usual little food dance as she handed M’Baku his.

“Ohhh my god, this is so good. Try it.”

M’Baku bit into it and his eyes widened, “Hanuman, that is good.”

“Told you! Ok now that we’ve taken in some of the culinary arts, lets see what else there is. Visual art, vendors, or performance art/music?”

“Let us start with visual art, then performance, then vendors.”

“Deal,” she rose to her tiptoes and pecked his lips. He smiled and held out his arm for her as they walked towards the visual art section of the festival. They both enjoyed the small art galleries, but yet again M’Baku mostly found himself staring at her as her eyes examined the pieces. Whenever she had the opportunity she would always stop and talk to the artists, some she knew some she didn’t. She even suggested a couple apply for positions at the center. 

“Stop working and just enjoy the festival,” he whispered in her ear after she handed a sculptor her business card.

“I’m not-” she was cut off by him giving her the look with one of his bushy eyebrows raised, “Ok fine. It’s hard to turn it off sometimes.” She shrugged and he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“Ready to see some of the performances?”

“Of course.”

“Without scouting for talent.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Fine.”

M’Baku chuckled at her attitude, he’d have something for that later.

They arrived at one of the stages just in time to catch the beginnings of an interpretive dance to “Whitey’s on the Moon.”

M’Baku hung onto Gil Scott-Heron’s words as the dancer moved across the stage in a hauntingly beautiful display of his raw talent. When he finished to a standing ovation and left the stage, making room for the next performer, M'Baku and Monae decided to stay there for a while until their stomachs rumbled again, reminding them that all they’d had to eat that day was breakfast and elote.

“Damn, I heard that all the way over here,” she joked as they got up to go find more food. This time M’Baku found a vegan food truck and they fell in love with their seitan Philly cheese steaks before heading back into the festival. The sounds of a popular local spoken word artist reciting a poem about gentrification filled their ears as they made their way over to the vendors. 

M’Baku and Monae walked through the crowded marketplace hand in hand, stopping periodically to take a look at what the artists had to offer. He noticed Monae had stopped at the booth of an old man with salt and pepper locs down his back to check out a delicate handmade amethyst necklace. He smiled when he saw how her eyes lit up when she looked at it, but she put the necklace back and walked towards M’Baku, grabbing his hand so they could head to the next booth. He stopped her and pulled her back into him.

“You changed your mind about the necklace?”

“It’s a little out of my budget right now, I just gave Jazz her tuition money for the fall.”

“But you want it?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Then it is yours, love,” he turned to the artist. “Excuse me, could we purchase this necklace along with the matching bracelet and earrings.”

“M’Baku!”

He leaned down and tilted her chin up to peck her on the lips, “Hush, you are getting the set.”

Monae blushed and tried to fight the smile creeping up her face. While she wanted to protest, she had never had a man spoil her before and she found that she liked the feeling. Sure Derrick had money, but he was Ebenezer Scrooge when it came to spending it, so this...this was new.

“Did you want to wear them out or should I wrap it up?” the older man asked Monae.

“Um, I’ll wear it out.”

M’Baku reached for the necklace and she turned around so he could place it on her. The cool metal of the gold chain shocked her skin as his hands dusted over her collarbone and carefully clasped the necklace together. He bent down and planted a soft kiss on her shoulder before turning her around to get a good look at the necklace that contrasted so beautifully against her brown skin.

She had goosebumps all over as she slid on the bracelet and popped her earrings off. She put her new earrings in and modeled them for M’Baku.

“Lookin good, miss!” said the jewelry-maker.

“Thanks!” she responded excitedly and M’Baku chuckled at how adorable she could be sometimes. “And thank you.” she turned around and planted a kiss on his lips

“No problem, love. You forget I am rich,” he winked at her and she stood there shocked for a moment before he led her to the next tent. He bought her a handwoven basket, and at the next tent he bought her the most beautiful painting she had ever seen. She was really enjoying the sugar baby treatment and he loved spoiling her. The whole day he barely bought anything for himself, instead just spending money on his lady. 

-------

When they couldn’t carry any more they decided it was time to go back to her place for the next part of their date. Monae had convinced him to smoke with her tonight and watch Friday, and she couldn’t wait to see how he would be while high. Would he be talkative? Would he have a panic attack? Would he get the munchies? She would soon find out.

When they got to her place they set her loot down in the living room and she immediately jumped on him.

“Thank you for everything,” she said between open-mouth kisses. He grunted in response and pushed her back into the wall, hands gripping under her thighs as her legs wrapped tight around him. His lips traveled to her neck and he bit down.

“Please just fuck me already, M’Baku,” she moaned out.

That was all he needed to hear and he walked them down the hall to her bedroom with his face still partially buried in her neck.

When he made it to her room he laid her down on the bed and crawled on top of her.

“I had to watch you walking around in these shorts all day, getting jealous when they would get stuck between your thighs...watching your ass jiggle. You did that on purpose.” His hand traveled down and unzipped her vintage high-waisted denim shorts, sneaking it��s way into her underwear and teasing the soft patch of hair above her pussy. His fingers travelled even lower and she let out a moan as he circled her clit.

“I did.”

“Tell me why.”

“Because I wanted you to w-want me. I wanted you to watch my hips move so you could see what they can do to you.”

“Oh I’ve seen what they can do,” he thought back to when he played drums for her as she danced. Her hips were mesmerizing and even then he imagined how they would feel grinding on him with his dick buried deep inside her. 

His fingers found their way even lower to her dripping pussy and lightly trailed up and down her lips.

“Show me again.” He commanded as he pulled her up off the bed and undressed her slowly, planting kisses on every new visible patch of skin. When he got to her thong, he grabbed it with his teeth and pulled it down and off her legs. He dove into her pussy like he was starving for her and his fingers found their way inside her. His tongue lapped at her pussy and twirled around her clit before he sucked it into his mouth, tongue still swirling around her pearl as he sucked and she moaned louder and louder. His fingers sped up inside her and he rolled his neck from side to side, moaning into her pussy. The movements of his head and the deep vibration of his voice made her legs tremble. The repeated “Mhmm” coming from between her legs sent her over the edge and her body convulsed before letting out a deluge of her juices onto his eager tongue.

M’Baku licked her sensitive pussy clean, teasing her with his thumb lightly circling her clit.

“M’Baku, baby, please.” her voice was soft as she begged for his dick to stretch her wide open. 

“I like how you sound when you beg. Do it again,” he said with a devilish smirk on his face.

She sat up on her knees and crawled to him, making sure to keep the deep arch in her back as she moved. When she reached him she sat back on her heels and looked at him with her best puppy dog eyes.

“Please, M’Baku. I need you inside me.”

His already hard dick got increasingly uncomfortable behind his zipper, so he reached down and freed the monster, laughing as he stepped out of his pants at the stunned look on Monae’s face.

“I knew it was big, but...damn, that’s a lot,” she said with her eyes wide and barely blinking.

He moved closer to the bed and stuck his tongue out as he leaned down. She did the same and their tongues met in a wet and nasty kiss right as she reached out to feel his velvety smooth dick. She traced the vein along the bottom of his shaft and he moaned, rutting into her hand. 

“Please,” she begged against his lips. Before she could register what was happening M’Baku had her on her back and his head was rubbing against her entrance as he kissed her deeply.

He pushed in slightly and she let out a sharp moan so he pulled back out.

“Relax, babygirl.” he cooed, “This is going to take some time but you have to work with me, ok?”

She nodded and bit her lip, “Ok. It’s just...a lot.”

“I know, but you can take it,” he kissed her deeply again, pushing in a little deeper, then pulling back out. He repeated this over and over until he bottomed out and she was a moaning mess. He stayed still inside her, just reveling in how she fit around him and allowing her to feel every inch of him as he stretched her out. Her hips started grinding up into his and he took that as her sign to start moving.

He pulled his hips back and rolled them forward, pulling a deep moan out of her and making her nails dig deeper into his back. He slow-stroked her until she had tears in her eyes and was begging to cum, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her out of her mind when she came, and she wasn’t quite to that point yet. He grabbed her legs and flipped her over on her stomach without pulling out and pulled her hips up towards him. She threw her ass back on him and he met every thrust with a deep stroke of his own, slapping her ass and adding to the clapping sounds they made with their bodies. His balls hung at the perfect height to stimulate her clit at that angle and as his thick uncut dick slipped and slid deep inside her, her eyes rolled back in her head at the overstimulation.

“Mmmm’Bakuu!”

“You like that?”

“Y-yes!”

“Mmm, I know you do.” his hand wrapped around her neck and pulled her face around to kiss him as he plowed even harder into her.

“Oh my god! M’Baku, Mmm’Baku, ooh baby right there. Yesssss, yes, yes, yes.” she cried out as he slowed down and stirred his dick inside her, whining his hips as he held her down by the back of her neck. Just as she had gotten used to his flow he slowly sped his thrusts back up and the bed slammed against the wall. Monae worried about her neighbors for a moment but the thought left her mind as soon as his fingers found their way to her clit. 

“I need you to cum for me so I can cum on this pretty ass of yours.”

Monae loved the thought of him cumming all over her ass and allowed the rising tension to take over her body. 

“Mmm, I feel you tightening around me. Cum for me, babygirl.”

Her body convulsed again as her orgasm washed over her, leading him into his. He pulled out just in time and his warm seed covered her round ass cheeks.

She pushed her legs back and laid flat on her stomach before breaking out into a fit of giggles. He soon joined her and the two of them revelled in their afterglow giddiness. 

“Let me get you a towel, where do you keep them?”

“Hallway closet,” she said dreamily.

He found the linens and grabbed a washcloth before lumbering back into the room, dick swinging and ready for more.

“Ready for round 2?” he shouted as he ran warm water on the rag and made his way back into the room. He wiped her down as she scoffed.

“You’re gonna have to let me recuperate a little, that was...intense.”

His brows furrowed.

“Intense, as in…?”

“In a good way! Intense as in I’ve never had sex feel like that before. I’ve never cried from it feeling so good.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you,” he smirked, the cocky side of him satisfied in knowing he was the best she’s had.

“I bet,” she chuckled, head still laying on her arms.

“I tell you what, how about we watch Friday and you get me high?”

“Honestly, that’s one of the sexiest things you’ve said all night.”

They laughed as he helped Monae up off the bed. He leaned in to kiss her lightly and she pulled him in for more.

“I thought you were too tired for round 2,” he said against her lips between kisses.

“I am.”

“Then stop kissing me like that,” he chuckled as he placed a soft kiss in the crook of her neck.

“Fine,” she said with an eyeroll and he slapped her on the ass. “Ow!”

“Watch the attitude,” he warned.

She felt a chill go down her spine at the deepening of his voice, but she felt the need to listen to what he had to say.

“Yes sir.”

“Mmm, I like that,” he bit his lips and kissed her one more time before tearing himself away from her to keep himself from getting all worked up again. His dick was still hard and he didn’t want to make it worse. He grabbed his underwear and slid it back on while Monae wrapped herself in her short satin robe and walked in front of him on the way to the living room, ass bouncing and thick thighs peeking out underneath. He sent a quick prayer up to Hanuman for self-control.

“First, we should order food because I don’t know about you, but I just worked up an appetite and I already know I’ll have the munchies after we smoke this.” She pulled a pre-rolled joint and a lighter from the hand-carved wooden box on her coffee table.

“What do you have a taste for?”

Her eyes traveled down his body to his half hard dick and her pussy jumped at the thought of slobbering all up and down his shaft, “Don’t ask me that right now.”

“You are making this very difficult, I hope you know that.”

“Payback’s a bitch,” she shrugged. “How about cauliflower hot wings and vegan nachos?”

“Perfect.”

They made their way to the couch and sat down while Monae ordered the food from a local shop. “Damn, they don’t do delivery. Next idea?”

“It’s right by my building, how about I run home and grab some comfortable clothes just in case I end up staying the night? I can pick it up on the way back,” M’Baku offered.

“You know you’re staying the night,” Monae said matter of factly, making her favorite gap-toothed smile appear across his face. 

“Oh I know,” he winked and stood up to go put his clothes on. 

-------

When M’Baku returned she had their plates and napkins all set up, and the movie was pulled up on pause, ready to go. For some reason she had placed huge glasses of water on the table as well.

“Ok, so here’s the plan: we’re gonna smoke a little of this joint, then watch the movie, then start smoking the rest halfway through. Cool?”

“Cool, where do you want the food?”

She gestured to the cleared off coffee table and they settled into the couch. Monae lit the joint and took a hit, showing him how it’s done. She took another before passing it to him.

M’Baku put it to his lips and inhaled, prompting his lungs to spasm and throw him into a coughing fit.

“And that’s what the water is for,” she handed his glass to him and he took a few sips.

“That was very unpleasant,” the chief complained as he continued to cough lightly.

“Because you’re not used to it yet. It gets easier to control your lungs, but even I still cough sometimes.”

“So how long have you been smoking?” M’Baku asked, his eyes reddening as he passed the joint back to her.

“I started pretty late, junior year of college. I don’t like feeling out of control of my own body, so I was scared to try it.” she took a hit and blew the smoke out her nose. “Eventually I made some friends who smoked and I got a few contact highs hanging with them, so I figured I might as well try the real thing and voila, now I’m a smoker. All the propaganda really worked on me.”

“Yes, I have read about that. It is one of many things that confuses me about this country,” he said, taking the joint back and trying a second time. This time went smoother, but he still coughed a little.

“There you go, getting better already. How do you feel?”

He looked at her with low bloodshot eyes and she fought to contain a smile, losing terribly. 

“What is it?”

“You look high as shit!” She busted out laughing and he followed suit, both laughing until tears fell down their faces. When they calmed down Monae took a couple more hits off the still-burning joint and passed it back to M’Baku.

“Ok, last one then we start the movie.”

He took one last hit and sat back into the couch, leaning into the corner with his plate of “wings”. Monae pressed play and grabbed some nachos and a couple wings of her own before getting comfortable right next to him.

She turned to him and recited the opening monologue with a smile on her face, “I know you don’t smoke weed. I know this, but I’m gonna get you high today,” she pointed at M’Baku, “ ‘Cause it’s Friday, you ain't got no job, and you ain’t got shit to do.” He snickered as she delivered her performance.

Throughout the movie, M’Baku’s roaring laughter shook the small apartment and for a while there she was seriously concerned about her neighbors filing a complaint. 

Around the time that Craig finally got high, she lit the joint and they went back to smoking. After they finished it, M’Baku was floating on cloud nine for the rest of the movie.

When Deebo got knocked the fuck out, Monae looked over at M’Baku’s grey sweatpants and saw the bulge of his dick. She licked her lips, wondering what it tasted like and by the time the credits rolled she was already on her knees pulling his dick from his pants.

“You sure about this, babygirl? You don’t have to,” he slurred.

“I know,” she said as she stuck out her tongue, swiping it along the underside of his dick.”But I want to.” She planted open mouth kisses up and down his shaft and he moaned at the feeling of her lips and tongue on him. She spit on his dick and used it to lubricate his shaft, twisting her hands up and down like a pepper grinder. She pulled back his foreskin and let her spit drip onto the tip of his dick, then stuck her tongue out to twirl around his meaty head. His toes curled as she just sucked on the tip, making it nice and sloppy for him before pushing it deeper into her mouth. Her tongue worked the underside of his shaft as his toes dug into the rug.

His hand made its way to the back of her head and he rolled his hips forward, letting out a deep moan. She increased her suction and the pitch of his moans increased right along with her. She pushed him deeper and let him slide down her throat, closing around it and sucking his dick like her life depended on it. She wasn’t able to take down the whole thing, but she used her hands and a copious amount of spit to handle the rest. 

“Hanuman, that feels good,” he groaned out, his head rolling back on the couch. “Mmm Monae, just like that.” 

She pulled off of him with a pop and stared into his eyes, “You like the way I suck your dick, baby?” She held eye contact as she took him back in her mouth as deep as she could take him. 

“Mmmhm,” he moaned out enthusiastically, unable to form words while her mouth traveled up and down his thick shaft. He clenched and unclenched his fists and his breaths grew ragged. “I-I’m going to cum.”

Monae already knew, she could feel the vein under his dick going crazy. As soon as he finished his declaration, he erupted down her throat and she continued sucking until he gave her every last drop. He had to beg her to stop and she giggled at knowing that she had power over him, too. 

The rest of the night was spent talking and giggling at nonsense, with some serious conversation sprinkled throughout. At one point the inevitable conversation about their future was brought up as they laid cuddled up in her bed. They both thought it would be better to rip off the bandaid and talk about it sooner rather than later.

“I know we have an expiration date, but I try not to think about it,” she whispered while tracing her fingers around his broad chest. 

“I think about it more than I care to admit.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, the other night I couldn’t sleep so I laid in bed thinking of ways to make it work for us… Would you ever consider moving?”

“To Wakanda? That’s a lot to ask at the beginning of a relationship, M’Baku.”

“I know, but I’d regret it if I never asked,” he kissed her crown and pulled her in closer to him. They sat in silence for a while, both already thinking of their unavoidable goodbye. M’Baku sighed, “I was not planning on falling in love while I was here. I wanted to remain unattached, but you came running in and ruined my plans.”

Monae laughed and he smiled down at her.

“Well then, you’re welcome for running into you that day. Your plans were probably boring anyway.”

“You have certainly made my time here more colorful,” he looked at her maroon colored fade, changing the subject to something lighter. “What color is next?”

“I might just go platinum blonde. I’m actually seeing Keke, the girl that does my hair, next Saturday, so we’ll see if I change my mind by then.”

“Whatever color you get will look beautiful on you.”

“”Thank you, sugardaddy,” she kissed his cheek and he looked down at her in confusion.

“Sugardaddy?”

“Yeah its a term for a guy who buys you nice things and takes care of you. Sometimes they want something in return for the sugar, but some of them just love spending money. You seem like that type.”

“I just enjoy seeing a smile on your face, what type of sugardaddy is that?” he leaned in for a kiss and she obliged.

“That’s the best type, daddy,” she giggled out as he started to tickle her sides.

“Say that again.”

“Ok, ok, stop.” she tried to catch her breath from laughing so hard. “I said ‘that's the best type, daddy’.”

“Mm, now say that last part by itself.”

A smile crept up Monae’s face as she gave him what he wanted. She looked him dead in the eye and put on her sexiest voice.

“Daddy.”

“Mmm.”

“You like when I call you daddy?” She climbed on top of him and pulled his dick out from his sweatpants for the second time that night before carefully sliding down onto him. She stared into his eyes as she took every inch inside her.

“Mmm, yes. Ride me, babygirl.” he slapped both her asscheeks and she let out a scream of pleasure and pain. 

“You like how I bounce on it, daddy?” She repeatedly dropped her ass onto his lap and brought it back up again, and he was mesmerized by the way her breasts jiggled in his face. He was able to latch onto one of her nipples and tease her pierced bud as she switched up her rhythm to move her hips back and forth. She held his head to her chest as he ravaged her nipples and she moaned loudly as his dick massaged every spot inside her she could find. Her hips cycloned round and round, making his dick stir her insides like a pot of macaroni. 

“Mmmmhmm,” he could barely speak with the way she was putting it on him. Never in his life had he had someone ride him and take him completely in, but Monae fit like a glove.Her hips rose and fell and he could feel her orgasm approaching. Just as it did, she reached down and choked him, eyes rolling back as she released all over him. When she choked him his body reacted involuntarily and he released inside of her. She kept riding as he filled her up and she leaned back to watch his dick throb as it pumped his seed into her.

“Fuck that feels good,” she whispered.

“You like when I fill your pussy up?”

She bit her lip and grinded her clit into him, wanting more, ”Yesss.”

Monae rode him for a few more rounds before she collapsed on the bed, a mixture of their cum spilling from her pussy. He wiped her up with a warm rag again and decided to run a bath for her aching body. He didn’t see her standing in the doorway to the bathroom as she watched him pour in the bath salts and test the temperature of the water. She loved how rough he could be, but it’s the sweet things like this that really made her melt. When he turned around and they locked eyes she blushed as though she had just been caught.

“I hope this helps,” he smirked, “You’re going to be sore tomorrow.”

“I’m already sore now. I don’t want to even think about tomorrow.”

He chuckled and held out his hand to her. She took it and he helped her into the warm water before washing her body with her loofa. She enjoyed his pampering and when she got out he wrapped her in the fluffiest towel he could find before carrying her back to the bed and lotioning her body.

“How do you feel?”

“Relaxed,” she responded, barely awake. He chuckled and kissed her forehead, tucking her in before she drifted off to sleep to dream of her Jabari chief.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem , @theblulife, @devnicolee

[farplane]

DAY 3: SCALE

The captain had agreed to meet him off the coast of the Jade Sea.

It might have been simpler to choose any old plain outside of Radz-at-Han, but he had long since understood his home was no longer a refuge and harboured no desire for his dealings to take place in its proximity. And besides—the one who had gone through the most trouble getting to the meet was him.

He didn’t have a bloody airship to fly him halfway across the Continents in a matter of hours. When he lamented such woes to Nairel, she snorted and said, in that delightfully flat tone she took to put him in his place: “You are the very spirit of penury.”

“I am horribly skint at present, I’ll remind you.”

“But skint isn’t poor, is it?” Nairel retorted effortlessly, as if it made much of a difference to a woman who lived in the bloody woods.

She had a way of easing his nerves. 

Though he prided himself on his ability to be in command of most situations, there were two things wrong with that belief: the first being that it had only been hammered into his mind since tender youth by a man whose word he wished never again to live by; the second that, of late, his life had been a veritable unravelling of any control he might have ever had over himself and his own fate.

It was as though he’d constructed the very circumstances that were sure to make him nauseous with dread. This was not Radz-at-Han, but knowing his family’s reach, he may as well have been standing right at the heart of it. He could have picked any place—distant Kugane, some miserably dusty point in Thanalan, even drab freezing grey Coerthas—and instead he had wandered so close to home, like a lost little boy running to the last place he had seen his nursemaid.

He was halfway through regretting his choice of locale for, oh, the eighth time when the Merlose touched down at a careful distance. Nairel, bless her heart, caressed the hilts of her knives as the captain approached.

To her credit, the Merlose party only outnumbered his by one—and their third member didn’t seem a fighter at all. She was slender, slighter than the aging captain—still strong with corded muscle, and no doubt as deadly as her reputation made her out to be—and wore a complicated loupe on a threaded silver chain about her neck. Most likely the captain had preferred an appraiser to a killer for these particular dealings.

It was the long-limbed Elezen at the captain’s right hand who concerned him, but Nairel at his back lessened his fears. Even with a mess of Void churning inside him, he could still bash heads in without magic, and he had the most vicious five-fulm-and-then-some(-she-insists) forestborn in Eorzea at his side.

“Pavane Malichar,” said the captain, as though the name meant something to her.

“Captain. I trust your journey was—”

“You’ve brought the payment?” asked the Elezen, no-nonsense, eyeing the very conspicuous coin pouch at his belt. Then, evidently critical of its size: “All of it?”

Pavane untied the laces, but didn’t part with the purse just yet.

“I understand and empathize with your wariness—in fact, I very much share it. Mine is a difficult package to conceal without glamours, and I neither see it nor sense its aether.”

The aether part was a bluff, but normally, it wouldn’t have been. And that was the reason Pavane had been grinding his teeth enough to ensure they’d be worn down to nothing by the turning of the next era.

“I am not in the habit of robbing downtrodden nobles just standing on a beach,” the captain said with a dangerous smile, and paused long enough to give power to the sound of waves breaking onto shore. “Not much challenge in it.” She turned her head to the Elezen: “Bring it over, Madelaine.”

Madelaine cast him one last dark look—a pirate’s trade-tool, he supposed—then turned on her heel. Pavane tossed the captain his coin pouch, but she didn’t hand it to the appraiser until her right hand had returned with a long coffer under her arm.

Already Pavane could feel some whisper of power stir within him, stoked by a boyish excitement for the relic that was so close to becoming his.

“I understand my first mate’s apprehension, lord,” the captain said, keeping her eyes on him as she passed the pouch to the appraiser. “That purse seems quite light.”

“Yours was a steep price, Captain. I’d have broken my back carrying the full payment if it was only in coin.”

He was confident in what the appraiser would find when she opened the purse, nestled among the absurd amount of gil that was only a portion of the price. The medallion had been forged, it was said, in the stone-heart of Mhach in the last days before the Flood—the first of House Malichar had made herself, then, the inheritor of her city’s great legacy. And it had been passed down through the generations, from heir to deserving heir, to wear her two-headed serpent upon their chest and signify their birthright.

Never had it been lost. Pavane, as a student of history, knew that it had changed hands outside of his family a number of times—but any thieves that stole it had only ever met gruesome ends. That was House Malichar: his ancestors had set a horrifying precedent for the exercise of their own power, all to the singular end of its preservation.

And he was giving his birthright away for another piece of Mhachi power—to make, on his terms, his own legacy.  

The appraiser fumbled her loupe twice in her haste to inspect the medallion. She took a moment, her expressive eyebrows shifting, then whispered something in the captain’s ear; and, finally, dropped Pavane’s whole life into her weathered palm.

“This is a precious thing you are treating as currency, lord,” said the captain of the Merlose, weighing the precious metal in her hand.

“It more than covers your price.”

“To be sure. Even melted down or hacked to pieces, which would be the safest way for me to dispose of it.” Her grave eyes met his. “Are you prepared for that?”

Pavane didn’t waver, though it seemed to him she spoke from some deep place of knowledge for precious, irreplaceable things. He put on his best, most charmingly twisted smile. “Not to worry. I’ve another,” he said, pulling back his sleeve.

The black scales of the snake wound in ink around his forearm shivered and writhed, a mirage of badly-rendered aether. Even when it was wrong, it was precious. It was his alone.

Nothing showed on the captain’s face; her dark brow furrowed no more than if she were merely trying to read something in a viciously small script. Surely a woman of her age—a pirate, a liberator of immeasurably rare weapons; an Ala Mhigan, by the newly-familiar shape of her words—had seen her share of strangeness. With a small gesture of her head, she ordered her first mate to lay the coffer at Pavane’s feet.

“A deal well-struck, then,” she concluded.

Pavane crouched down with wonder coursing up and down his hands, weighting them as he opened the coffer to reveal his prize: a long-bladed scythe, unadorned in the Mhachi style he had come to know from his family’s archives, brimming with power to harness the Void.

“Indeed,” Pavane said as he rose with the scythe in hand. In his breathless appreciation for the weapon, he felt a twist of envy for the captain and her crew—and the adventure they must have had finding it. He pictured ruins, ancient knowledge, a dark thrill of threat.

The captain nodded to him, satisfied with their business, and said little else before she turned back towards her ship with the appraiser in tow. But Madelaine, the first mate, lingered. 

“Thinking of all the harvesting you’ll do, lord?” she asked with a smirk. “Grass? Wheat?”

Nairel, who until then had been so utterly quiet, said, “Or the one it will protect,” in a tone that gave nothing away. “Do Hearers’ daughters know much about harvesting, actually?”

A flash of irritation passed across her face, barely noticeable, before her expression settled into something else. Curiosity, perhaps.

“You’re Nairel?” she said, with an air like she was almost entirely sure of the answer.

“I am.”

A pause. Madelaine glanced over her shoulder at her retreating captain, then made half a step towards turning before stopping to look at Nairel again. “Is your brother well?”

“He’s alive. For now.”

“Aye,” said the first mate, nodding. She turned to walk away. “I knew he would be.”

Pavane blinked, trying to piece together the familiarity that had just passed between her and Nairel. Why had she asked about—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Nairel stroked his arm. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you once we’re in the shade; my head’s bloody spinning in this heat.”

sigrid keane belongs to @onwesterlywinds; madelaine lachance belongs to @ink-long-dry

[mhdiaries]

Monster Exchange Draculaura Passport

6 June

I have lost my passport. Okay, maybe “lost” isn’t the right word, maybe “misplaced” is better, or at least it makes me feel better to think of it just not being really “lost, lost”; because “misplaced” means I can actually come across it by looking in places where it is not normally kept, whereas “lost” means the possibility of me ever finding it again is dreadfully small. I am not in panic mode yet, though. There is still time to find it before I have to leave for Shibooya. I hope. Clawd thinks I need to apply for another passport, but that would mean giving up and admitting that I really have lost it instead of just misplaced it. I can hear Dad now, “Draculaura, it is totes irresponsible of you to lose such an important document.” Okay, maybe I can’t exactly hear him saying “totes”, but the rest of that sentence comes through loud and clear. I’m doing my best not to tell him, which is waaaay easier since he’s out of country right now... with his passport not lost or misplaced, I’m sure.

13 June

I am sitting in the student exchange gorientation class right now. I am pretending to take notes, which makes Mr. D’eath happy. It also has the curious effect of keeping him from repeating himself, which means the class doesn’t go as long. If I were legitimately taking notes, these are some of the subjects I would have written down:

Do not lose your passport. This is an important document, and it is your responsibility to keep up with it.

One time Mr. D’eath lost his passport and never got the chance to go on his exchange trip, which meant he had to stay home and work in his father’s shoe store instead of getting to see the Eiffel Terror.

Do not lose your passport.

I think I would be getting a lot more out of this class right now if I weren’t being constantly reminded of this. Bats! I know it has to be somewhere - “Well, of course, it has to be somewhere Draculaura, things don’t just vanish into thin air.” Oh, yeah? What about Invisi Billy? “Okay - except for Invisi Billy.” Lagoona just snorted again, I know that snort; it’s what she does when she tries to turn a laugh into a sneeze. I wish I were sitting next to her so I could be in on whatever it is that she’s laughing about, but Mr. D’eath won’t let us sit next to each other because, apparently, we’re “disruptive.” So not fair, and right now Lagoona needs some encouragement. She’s already missing Gil, and she hasn’t even left yet. I’m going to miss Clawd, too, but our situation is totes different than theirs is. I should talk to the ghouls and see if we can do something special for them. Ooh, I think Mr. D’eath is wrapping things up. Feariously? Again with the lost passport? I get it already... I just wish I had gotten it before I lost... er... misplaced it. Sigh...

15 June

I went over to Clawd’s house for dinner tonight. It was fun. His mom always makes sure to cook something without meat in it for me. This time it was pasta with scarinara sauce. She also made meatballs, but, of course, I passed on those. The Wolfs treat me like I am a member of their pack, and I always feel so special when I’m there. It made me think of Lagoona again, and how even something as simple as dinner is such a scary hard thing to make happen for her and Gil. When we finished eating, Clawd and I went for a walk. If he was worried about me being gone, he did not show it. I think some ghouls would take this as a sign that something was wrong, but I know better. There’s barely enough room in our relationship for the drama I bring to it, so I’m glad Clawd doesn’t add his own. Speaking of drama, I told him about my passport. Clawd snorted, but it wasn’t because he was trying to turn a laugh into a sneeze. It’s a “concern snort” which tells me that a solution has been released in his brain and it is currently trying to find a way out that does not sound like an order. Clawd is used to barking out orders. I guess that comes with being the captain of both the football and caketball teams. “I think, maybe you should get a replacement,” he said. “If you apply now, you’ll have time. If you wait, you won’t. That happened to Clawdia before she went to school in Londoom - it was a total pain in the fang.” I told him I would download the paperwork and fill it out, but I still don’t want to admit that it’s actually lost. I wonder if there is a box on the form for “misplaced”? I know it’s totes silly to carry on like this, but I don’t want to give up until I find it. 

25 June

It wasn’t hard to get the ghouls to agree to act as hair and makeup artists, it wasn’t hard to get Cleo to ask her dad for the use of a limo, it wasn’t hard to get the mansters to dress like body guards, but it was deadly difficult to get Gil to agree. “I don’t want to do it,” he said. “It’s just going to fall through, and then we’ll both be disappointed.” I finally had to resort to an intervention. Gil thought he was going to have a game day with the mansters at Deuce’s house, but not so much. When he walked down the stairs to the basement and saw all of us sitting there, he turned to Deuce and said, “I knew I smelled a trap.” Deuce said, “I could have just stoned you, but I’d rather have you mad at me than Lagoona.” It took a while, but after we laid out the plan... several times... he finally agreed. He was a nervous wreck on the way to pick her up, but by the time we arrived, with no flat tires, engine trouble, alien invasions or Heath Burns incidents, he was so excited he could barely stay in the limo while we went to get Lagoona. They had a clawsome day just to themselves, and we got to be a part of it. Totes perfect.

27 June

I was this close to moving my passport from “misplaced” to “lost” when I decided it was time to call in some backup. I invited Clawdeen, Frankie, Ghoulia, Abbey and Cleo for a creepover/passport hunt. I may or may not have mentioned the part about the passport hunt before they showed up, although according to the ghouls I definitely did not. It is possible that I did not mention it since I have been under a lot of stress lately. Frankie came to my rescue when the grumbling started to get out of hand, and said we could turn it into a treasure hunt, and that it would be fun. The other ghouls were not completely convinced that it would be fun, but Frankie could convince a werewolf to run barefoot through a field of wolf’s bane. We turned my room upside down - literally; Abbey is very strong. Cleo wanted to know when the last time I used it was, which, I think was when we all went to Scaris. I didn’t really need it for that whole “Queen of the Vampires” thing when we jetted off to Transylvania. Cleo suggested that maybe I left it in my luggage, so we all headed to my closet. Dad had put in some new track lighting, which makes it totes easier to find things now, and my clothes no longer smell like torch smoke. We went through all of my luggage from the trip; this took some time, but we found nothing except an old croissant. We had to keep Abbey from eating it, which made her crabby. Not that all the other ghouls weren’t crabby by this time, too, and that’s when Ghoulia, who was lying on the floor, pointed up to a shelf that had previously been hidden by the luggage. “Does that box say ‘Passports’?”? Abbey reached up and took down the box. Frankie opened the lid and pulled out a passport. “Draculaura, this passport expired 60 years ago.” Abbey dumped the box in the middle of the floor, and we all started going through them. Cleo said, “This one expired 30 years ago, and what is up with your hair in this picture?” It was a phase. Ghoulia flipped through the one she was holding, “Only 15 years out of date.” Clawdeen jumped to her feet with the one she was holding. “Found it, and it’s only expired by... TWO WEEKS!” I had two thoughts as I watched my ghouls freaking out with concern. Number one was “Misplaced, not lost”, and number two “Good thing I already applied for a replacement.” 

[benex78]

Forgive our Sins

5 years after the events of Immortality, Sara and Grissom are living back in Las Vegas when a ghost from their past reappears in their life forcing them to face some old decisions. GSR of course! Enjoy it! I hope you like it and please review it! (Sorry if there are mistakes but I'm not a native English speaker and a special thanks to my friend LuLu for reading it)

PART 1 They went through a lot together during their 16 years long relationship. She left him and the sin city, he went to Costa Rica for her, they got married, they got divorced, she went to San Diego and sailed with him. They hurt each other more than once, but their love never stopped. In the end, they gave up their carriers to stay together, got married again and now they were finally living happily together. Grissom and Sara are back in Vegas, living in a small house in the university district. While Sara works as a consultant for the crime lab, Gil is a part-time professor of entomology who tends to stick his nose in his wife’s forensic cases. 14 years have passed since the miniature killer events and Natalie Davis is still in prison. In her cell she keeps a collection of miniatures and she is now working on a new one. She interrupts her work on the miniature to write a letter. It’s a difficult one: she had tried to write this letter so many times without success, in fact there are a few ripped sheets of paper on the floor. This time is different, she manages to use the rights words and, once done, she sends the envelope to the Las Vegas Crime Lab. It’s addressed to Sara Sidle. What does she want from Sara? Does she want to make amends? Does she want to go after her again? PART 2 A car is parked outside Sara and Grissom's house and the driver is observing Sara. One day on her way to work, Sara notices him and tries to run away, but suddenly she’s caught in an incident. She is brought to the hospital where a frightened Grissom arrives. Fortunately, Sara is fine, she only has some bruises and she is soon allowed to leave the hospital to go home with her husband. Sara tells Grissom what happened and now they fear someone is chasing them. Thanks to the street CCTVs the police finds and arrests the stalker, however the man has nothing to do with the accident. Thus, he is released, but not after securing a conversation with Sara Sidle. He is a private detective and he needs to talk to Sara because his client, a woman named Kelly Ross, wants to meet her. Sara asks the detective the reason for this meeting and he responds that Mrs. Ross instructed him to reveal only in which part of Vegas she lives and, most importantly, that they have someone in common. Sara is caught off guard as she doesn’t know what to expect from this. However, she can’t help but feel curious. PART 3 On their day off Grissom drives Sara to Mrs. Ross, but he waits outside in the car. He is worried but he respects Sara’s decision to go in alone. When opening the door, Mrs. Ross welcomes Sara with a warm hug then she lets her in. Gil Grissom observes the whole scene speechless. When Sara comes back couple of hours later, she is in shock and immediately askes Grissom to take her home. He wants to know about the meeting, yet Sara begs him to give her some time to put her thoughts together. That evening in their kitchen Sara tells him a story she kept for herself for far too long. FLASHBACK:13 YEARS EARLIER The miniature killer had changed everything: the team had found about her relationship with Grissom, she had to join swing and above all she felt something inside her had broken and no one, not even Griss, could do anything to help her. She was so depressed that she decided to leave Vegas and the love of her life. She was in L.A. visiting her mom when she started to feel unwell. It took her a few days to even conceive the idea that she could be pregnant. She went to the nearest drugstore and paid for a test that she took directly in the customers toilet. She waited in there for almost an hour with the result in her hands: POSITIVE! How could it be? She didn’t want a child and Grissom neither. They talked about this at the beginning of their story and even more recently when he proposed. They (she and Griss) were the only family they wanted. How could she tell Grissom something like that? At least by phone she could avoid looking into his eyes and see his disappointment. She went back to her motel room and waited for the morning to come. She didn’t sleep all night, she kept looking at the clock on the wall. When she was sure Grissom could be home from work, she called him. He picked up almost immediately. She heard him giggling at the other side of the phone, but his joy faded at the news. Sara was so depressed; their relationship was stalling and surely, he wasn’t ready to be a father. Thus, they both agreed to end the pregnancy. Grissom offered to come to L.A. to be close to her, but Sara declined. She wanted to do it alone and he didn’t complain. She had just booked an appointment at a private clinic, when her mother got sick, so she had to postpone the whole thing. When she finally got there 3 weeks later, it was too late to proceed with the abortion. She had no another choice but to contact the social services to find a family for her unborn child.  She never told Gilbert she carried their baby and that he was put up for adoption. To him, this was a dead story. Just 10 days before Warwick’s murder she delivered a healthy baby boy who she held only briefly in her arms before giving him away. When she came back to Vegas, Grissom was so devastated he didn’t even notice her body didn’t have the usual silhouette and she kept the secret for herself. Until now. Sara’s confession is very painful, she fears Gilbert’s reaction. She fears he will hate her and never forgive her for taking his son away. However, Grissom isn’t angry. He seems quite relieved instead. Grissom reaches his hand out across the table and places it on top of Sara’s, giving it a gentle squeeze: - I don’t begrudge you honey. In the end, you did what we had decided. At the time we didn’t want a kid and you didn’t keep it. Honestly, I’m quite happy it went this way. – Sara raises her head: - Really? – Grissom admits: - Yeah, because now, 13 years later, we are talking about someone we created, someone who has our genes and who probably is still alive. Even if he is somewhere, we don’t know where and who raised him – Sara reveals: - Gil, his name is Dylan, he is here in Vegas and Mrs. Ross is his adoptive mother – Grissom is astonished: - What? He’s in Vegas right now? Did you see him? – Sara shakes her head: - No, he was at school - Grissom: - How did Mrs. Ross find you? – Sara: - I can’t explain it, but since I had decided for an open adoption, she must have assumed a detective to find me. - Grissom: - But why now? – Sara: - Because she wants to give us a second chance – Grissom: - Sorry I don’t get it – Sara: - She is dying, she has terminal cancer and her husband has died of Covid last year. She fears that once she’s dead her boy will end up living in an institute until his 18th birthday. -   Grissom’s heart starts beating fast, he can’t bear it any more. Maybe it’s his age but he wants to be a father now. However, he knows everything it’s up to his Sara: - Can we…? What do you want to do? - Sara: - Honestly… I don’t know – Grissom: - Sara, we are his parents! – Sara’s answer is firm: - No, we lost that right a long time ago Gil! – Grissom corrects himself: - You are right, but we have to do something. Don’t you want to get to know him? To see who he looks like? – Sara:  - Of course I want to, but I am also terrified. I abandoned him. For all I know he could hate me. – Gil replies: - He could love you. -   Sara gives Grissom a sad smile. Grissom tries to lift her spirit: - He could be a geek like us - Sara announces: - Gil, he is a special boy, he is not like the other kids – Grissom asks: -What do you mean? – Sara: - Mrs. Ross told me Dylan can’t hear, he has a genetic disease that made him almost deaf 5 years ago. Grissom is hurt, he can’t find the words to express his feelings. Sara notices his reaction and she gently touches his leg. Sara: - Are you ok? – Grissom nods: - I just don’t know how to feel about this: happy because I have something in common with my son or sad that I passed this pain to him It's all my...  – Sara raises Gilbert’s chin, she cuts him off this time, shaking her head: "No, it's not. and it's not right to put the blame all on you. We both made stupid decisions in our relationship that lead us to where we are now." She takes a breath and speaks again more softly. "Now, I just want to put all of that behind us and start over..." Grissom clears his throat and asks in a more serious tone: - So... what do you think? –   Sara takes both his hands in her and smiled a little: - I think we are going to speak with Kelly Ross and arrange a meeting with Dylan. Ok? – Grissom nods satisfied. Sara: - Let’s see what happens but we have to keep our hopes grounded – Grissom: - Ok… Come here – and takes Sara in his arms: - I love you, no matter what! – Sara leans towards him. She looks him in his eyes and responds with a tender kiss on his lips whispering against them "I love you too”.

PART 4 Sara spends the week working and thinking, thinking and working. Tension and expectations building up every day, more and more. In her mind Sara has imagined their meeting with Dylan at least 300 times, she has repeated all the possible things she could say to him, but every time his reaction is bad and the meeting goes wrong. Even Grissom is anxious; nonetheless he tries to distract Sara: he invites her to see one of his lessons at the university, he proposes a trip on a boat over the lake Mead and he takes her out to dinner. The Italian restaurant they go to is one of their favorites. They eat a very good lasagna and they drink a little more than they usually do, just to relax. Once at home, they go to bed. They face each other but, thinking of the day ahead, they can’t sleep. Grissom: - It’s gonna be fine – Sara: - You can’t know that – Gil caresses her hair: - No, but we have to stay positive – Sara takes Gil’s hand and brings it to her cheek: - I don’t know what to tell him – Gil’s finger brushes her lips: - The truth! If he asks, we’ll tell him the truth - Sara: - But? – Grissom: - Honey, if we want his trust, we have to be honest. We can’t lie. - Sara: - I am scared! -   Grissom: - Me too – and he slowly kisses her. She returns the kiss as they are taken by the passion of their bodies, entangled in one. Their minds are lost in the rhythm of that primordial act of desire, they know so well. They are just flesh and skin, sweat and moans. PART 5 It’s afternoon and they are sitting in a park near Dylan’s school. The sight of the boy approaching them with his mother takes their breath away. Kelly greets them from afar and points them to her son. They stand up and walk in their direction. Sara and Grissom stop when they are in front of Dylan and Kelly.  4 souls, 4 people meant to be a family finally together.  Dylan is a mini version of Grissom. He is not so tall but he’s slim. He has short curly brown hair. His eyes are blue and curios. Behind his left ear he has a hearing aid. Kelly addresses them to Dylan; she gestures in sign language and tells him: - They are the friends I was talking to you about. – Grissom takes courage and speaks first, gesturing his words: - Hi Dylan, my name is Gilbert and she is my wife Sara. We are happy to meet you. Your mother told us a lot about you. – Sara: - Hi, sorry but my sign language is a little rusty. I will try to improve. – Dylan: - Don’t worry, I can hear you (he indicates the implant to Sara). Moreover, I’ve learned to read lips. You, (he addresses to Grissom) on the other hand are very good. – Grissom: - Thanks. My mum was deaf, she taught me – Dylan nods pondering the answer. Sara tries to break the silence: - How was your day? Do you like school? – Kelly intervenes: - He is the best of his class – Dylan gives her a little buff on her right arm: - Mum please! – Kelly smiles: - He is shy, he doesn't like to brag – Grissom and Sara, grinning, exchange a look of complicity mixed with pride: - We can imagine – Dylan fixes them and he asks abruptly: - Why don’t you tell me who you really are? – Grissom and Sara almost choke: - What? – Kelly scolds him: - Dylan?! – Dylan continues: - You are my real parents, aren’t you? Sara feels responsible and wants to give him an answer: - You are right, I’m your birth mother and he is your father. – Dylan insists: - Why are you here? – Kelly: - I asked them to come – Dylan turns to his mother in shock but Kelly goes on: - I have to know that you would be safe, cared for and loved when I will be gone – Dylan: - How could you think that I would stay with someone who abandoned me? – Kelly interrupts them: - You three need to talk, you need to know each other. Dylan please, you have to listen to them – Dylan: - I don’t want to – and he runs away. Kelly touches Sara’s shoulder, she feels her pain and apologizes for Dylan’s reaction: - Give him some time.  He is a good boy… he’s very smart – Grissom sighs: - I see – Sara is ashamed: - He is right, I made a mistake. – Kelly tries to soothe her by saying: - We all make mistakes, Sara – Sara: - But he is the one who’s paying the consequences of that mistake – Grissom: - We had our reasons, dear– Sara locks her eyes on Gil: - and why does it all seem so wrong now? – Kelly: - Let me talk to him – Sara replies: - No, I want to try - Sara goes to look for Dylan; Grissom follows her but she turns and stops him: - Give me 5 minutes – Gil nods; she approaches the boy. He is sitting on a swing. Sara asks him permission with a soft voice: - Can I? – Dylan shrugs his shoulders and Sara sits in the swing next to him. The boy leaps down and faces her. Sara: - I’m so sorry for everything, Dylan. I’m sorry for your mum, for your dad, for your earing problems, and above all I'm sorry for what I did to you. – Dylan: - Why did you leave me? – Sara tries her best to formulate an answer: - It’s complicated.... I wasn’t feeling very well. Something bad had happened to me. – Dylan interrupts her: - My father? Did he hurt you? – Sara: - No, absolutely not. He has always been kind to me – she invites Grissom to join them and he moves in their direction. – I was, I still am a Crime Scene Investigator. Do you know what it is? – Dylan nods and Sara continues: - I was working on a case, and a serial killer kidnapped me and left me to die. I managed to escape, your father and other members of my team saved me – Dylan listens very carefully. – But after that, nothing was the same. I was broken and unhappy. I wasn’t myself anymore and I couldn’t stay there. I went away from your father, from this town, from my old life. I could not be a good mother for you, you deserved more. – Dylan looks at Sara and then Grissom and says: - You are married now – Sara declares: - We got back together 5 years ago. – Grissom kneels in front of Dylan: - We're not here to be your parents, you already have them – Dylan states: - My mum is great! – Grissom agrees: - It’s true. We just want to know you, Dylan! – Sara teases: - Can you give us a chance? – Dylan thinks and then asks Sara something that has always intrigued him: - Did you give me a name before.. you .. ? Sara affirms instantly: - Arthur, I named you Arthur –

LITTLE FLASHBACK OF 13 YEARS EARLIER Sara was holding her baby when a nurse entered the room to take him. The social assistant was waiting outside. The woman checked the papers she had filled in. On the birth certificate she had written her name, Gilbert’s, and a new one: ARTHUR. She gave her baby a kiss on the forehead and passed him to the nurse who left the room, closing the door to a crying Sara. Grissom turns towards Sara, surprised by her admission. Sara looks at him directly in his eyes: - It’s your father’s middle name! – Dylan chuckles, satisfied by the answer: - It’s my middle name too – Sara is grateful that the Ross in some way had kept the name she had chosen for him. Dylan remarks: - My father was a pastor, he always told me to forgive the others. I’m forgiving you! – They give him an appreciative smile before Grissom touches his head saying: - He’d be very proud – Dylan nods and walks over to an emotional Sara. He wipes a tear from her face, similarly to what Gilbert would have done. She whispers a thank you to him, then they return to the bench where Kelly was sitting, watching the whole scene.

PART 6 Grissom and Sara start seeing Dylan every day after school. Their bond gets deeper and deeper. Dylan looks more at ease with them. He loves spending time with Gil, making experiments, going fishing or sailing. They find a new balance in their lives. Every once in a while, he even spends the night with them. The guest bedroom has become his room now. Kelly’s cancer on the other hand gets worse and she ends in hospital. It’s a Wednesday morning when Sara picks up Dylan from school and brings him to the hospital to give his mother one last hug. Kelly Ross dies at 2.00 PM of that same day and Dylan cries in the arms of Gilbert.  At the funeral he stands between Sara and Grissom. He is brave but silent. Over the last year, he has lost both of his parents and found two new ones. It’s strange how life takes an unexpected turn sometimes and turns up the way it should have from the beginning.  In fact, before her death, Kelly had arranged things so that Sara and Gil could have full custody of the boy and become a family.

PART 7 Sara is in a hurry; she greets her boss and some other members of the team as she prepares to leave the office. The receptionist at the desk calls her back and gives her some correspondence. She doesn’t have time to read it, she will do it later with calm. All she wants to do now is to go home to her boys and to enjoy the evening with them. After dinner Dylan does his homework in the living room, Gil prepares his lesson and Sara tidies the kitchen up. She suddenly remembers the letters in her purse, so she takes a break to read them. An envelope without a sender attracts her attention. She rips the envelope and her jaw drops.

Dear Sara Sidle, I’m Natalie Davis, you probably remember me as the miniature killer. I’ve been thinking of you very often lately. I know, I don’t have the right to write to you after all this time, but my journey here in prison made me reflect on my actions and on what I have done to you and to the other victims. I’m so sorry Mrs Sidle, I can’t change the past and my apologies can’t relieve your pain or what you’ve lost. I was angry and I seeked vengeance for no real reason except because I couldn’t accept the daemons from my past. I should have known that that wasn’t the answer but I was too lost. I hold Mr Grissom responsible for the death of Arnie Dell and I tried to take you away from him because of his love for you. However, and now I know this, it was not his fault and you were a collateral damage in my inner war. I don’t deserve your forgiveness; I’m not searching for redemption. I’m just happy that you are alive. I also hope life has been kind to you and that Mr Grissom is still by your side.                                                                                                      Sincerely, Natalie Davis                    

Sara confronts Grissom about the letter and what to do next. They are concerned, still they decide to go to the county jail to see Natalie in person. As CSI they get a special permit to meet her in the interrogation room. The door opens and a guard escorts Natalie Davis inside. She is handcuffed and she’s wearing an orange suit. For the first time in 14 years she, Sara and Gil are in the same room. The guard moves to stand in a corner and Natalie sits at the table. Natalie is surprised by this visit: - I didn’t expect you to come. - Sara: - I didn’t expect your letter either. - They contemplate in silence for some time. Natalie clears her throat: - Anyway, thank you. Your presence here is very important to me – Sara replies: - I’m here because I wanted to look you in the eyes, to make sure your words were true and your regret sincere. Natalie: - Mrs. Sidle, I don’t know what to do to prove it to you - Sara: - You wrote you don’t deserve forgiveness… – Natalie: - No, I don’t. I’m a sinner and I need to be punished for my sins! – Sara: - Hmmm. It was not easy to understand it but now, now I’ve got it. We have different backgrounds, different stories but we have one thing in common – Natalie looks confused. Sara continues: - We are survivors, Natalie! We are women with physical and psychological scars. I could have surrendered to the difficulties that life put in front of me, as you did, but I decided to move on and I’m still doing it – Sara grabs Gilbert’s hand and squeezes it. They exchange a tender look. They both smile before Sara shakes her head and goes on: – Therefore, I forgive you! – Natalie is incredulous: - Why are you so good to me after all I’ve done? - Sara: - I’m not good, I just think this place and your sense of guilt are enough for me. We cannot live in resentment forever, and you know what? I’ve learned such an important lesson from a very mature 13 years old boy who has been through hell in such a short time. Goodbye Natalie. - Sara and Gil stand up and leave the room, Natalie and her nightmares behind. Dylan will be home soon with some of his friends. Tonight, they will go to the Luna park, they will ride the rollercoaster and then eat pizza. Their future is definitely bright.

THE END

[aer-in-wanderland]

구미호뎐 | Tale of the Nine Tailed - Lost in Translation EP03

The saga continues: part three in a series in which my sister and I pick our way through all the (mis)translations, humour, and cultural subtext that dropped from the fan-subbed version of TotNT. Thank you so much to everyone who bought us coffee - this one’s for you. ;) 

Before we begin, for anyone just joining us: EP01 / EP02. 

We pick up back where we left off last episode with Yeon dressing Ji Ah’s wound. 

Yeon’s line that’s subbed, “Stop being a crybaby” can be a bit hard to translate. The word he uses is ‘eomsal,’ which literally means, ‘the exaggeration of pain; feigning pain; a great fuss about nothing.’ So he’s essentially saying she’s overreacting. I'm not a fan of the use of the word ‘crybaby’ here though personally.

“Long time no see, Lee Yeon.” > > > 12 Hours Earlier.

We see Thirsty meet his ignominious end in a toilet (we never got character names for these guys so I’m just going to call them ‘Thirsty’ and ‘Hungry’).

Elsewhere on the island, Rang fishes a curse doll with the man’s picture on it out of the surf. That’s quite the atmospheric shot. Point to the director.

Episode 03 Title Card: The Secret of the Dragon King 

We open the following morning as Ji Ah and the man who found the body (who Ji Ah refers to as ‘Captain’) examine the scene.

Sub: “Being at sea wasn’t enough and he drowned himself to death.” I’m not sure that sentence even makes sense. I would have translated the man’s line as: “Ho~ Let no one say he wasn’t a seaman. He managed to kick the bucket by drowning [even on dry land].” 

Sub: “Talk about it being all for nothing. This is what he gets after throwing himself at his life.” Um, what now? The line is: “Human lives are so futile. And after he clung so viciously to life, too.”

Lol Yeon. “I see someone threw a party.” I like this sub. What he literally says though is: “Oh~ Looks like it was a really special night.” (‘special’ here is in English). 

Sub: “He smells like a stinky fish.” What Yeon literally says is: “Ugh, a smell like rotting fish is coming from this kid!” Yeon refers to the man as ‘yae,’ which literally means ‘this kid,’ but can also be used to refer to inanimate objects. So, either way...pfft

Appropriately, the BGM playing as Pyung Hee casts her curse is ‘Shaman.’

Back over to Yeon and Ji Ah as they investigate the body. The chyron on the screen reads: ‘The first survivor of the Milky Way (Deceased)’ Irony-(probably)-not-intended. 

We get another chyron not long after, over a shot of Pyung Hee’s father’s head being returned to shore that reads: ‘Seo Gi Chang (Died aboard the Milky Way)’

Lol None of this has stopped Yeon from nomming on his banana milk. I had thought the milk made him seem like a little kid, but according to Korean fans, it’s also, apparently, commonly enjoyed by old men. heh

Sub: “Besides, they’re not good looking enough.” This is a mistranslation. Yeon’s line is literally: “And besides, I don’t like the look of their faces.” What he means, though, is the feeling they give off, rather than their actual ‘looks.’ It’s a common expression in Korean. If I was translating instead of explaining, I would probably render this as, “I don’t like the look of them.”

As Ji Ah drags him out, however, Yeon can be heard saying, “Ah~ I judge people by their looks~!” I’m 98% sure this is another LDW ad lib. Basically, LDW made a joke of his previous line, as if to say Yeon cared about the look of them because they weren’t attractive enough, when really his line meant they seemed shady. It’s almost as if he predicted the bad sub...

We get a brief scene featuring the second (and only named) survivor of the Milky Way, Jin Shik. Oh, and his headless ‘visitor.’ Creepy.

The music underscoring Hungry gorging himself on raw meat is making everything worse (or possibly better, if disturbing is your jam)

I’ve said it before, but I would watch an entire series of Yeon and Ji Ah being a supernatural investigative duo.

Pfft Yeon refers to Seo Gi Chang as ‘the head’ (mogaji). I’m not sure if I should call that indelicate or irreverent. It’s a bit of both, really. 

Yeon’s line here is subbed as, “What happened on the boat?” but it should more properly be: “What did you do on the boat?” He’s not just asking after the sequence of events; the line is a clear accusation.

Sub: “We met an unexpected storm that day.” Actually: “Rough wind and waves hit the side of the fishing boat.” (i.e. causing it to capsize) 

I appreciate that Yeon sits back here and allows Ji Ah to take the lead. 

So, as it turns out, the 11th hell is actually a fishing boat (I’m sure the cast of 1N2D will back me up on this).

Fun fact: This sequence was filmed in a green screen pool and then made to look like the middle of the ocean with CG.

As an aside, I love that Ji Ah deduced the whole story on her own and that she uses that knowledge to corner Hungry psychologically. Also, that her strategy proves more effective than Yeon’s threat of violence. It’s not so much a ‘you catch more flies with honey,’ as a ‘brain over brawn’ sort of deal. 

Ji Ah: You were frightened, weren’t you? Twenty-eight days straight on a perilous life boat without water or food. They’re the perfect conditions for a person to go mad, aren’t they? First-degree burns from the hot August sun striking your body mercilessly, the boat pitching about all day; despite not having eaten, you feel as if you’ll throw up. Clenching your teeth and waiting to be rescued only works for a day or two. The more you think about it, the angrier you get. ‘Why, me? Why?!’ Around the fifth day was the crisis point. Since, in that time, not a drop of rain had fallen. Dehydration would have set in first. [...] But it’s odd, isn’t it? For having starved for 28 days, you lost too little body mass. [...] What did you eat?

Meanwhile, Yeon’s contribution to all of this is: “And you couldn’t have used a delivery app in the middle of the open ocean where there’s no wifi signal.” Pfft He has, of course, caught on to her strategy. As usual, though, he decides to take the cheeky route. 

Side note: I find it interesting that, in this universe full of monsters, the first incident Yeon and Ji Ah end up investigating together turns out to be an entirely human horror. 

Yo. Hungry deciding Ji Ah is food is just...ugh. Never trust a cannibal. 

Luckily for Ji Ah, her guard dog fox is on the job. 

Over to Rang, who asks a weeping Pyung Hee what she’ll give him in return for granting her ‘wish’. We don’t get to see her answer him, but it was included in the backstory collection.

It’s unclear to me just how much Rang is involved in ‘granting’ Pyung Hee’s wish. Like, is he the one fueling the curse somehow, or did he just teach her what she needed to know? I’m inclined to believe it’s more the latter. 

We cut to Taluipa at the Afterlife Immigration Office, who’s pissed that someone’s messing with her Death List. There’s a fun mythology-related chestnut in this scene: when Hyeonuiong comes running in, he’s carrying a watering can. Taluipa accuses him of having been watching dramas, but Hyeonuiong insists he was watering the Uiryeongsu. 

The chyron for it reads: ‘The Uiryeongsu. A tree that measures the sins of the dead by the weight of their clothes when they’re hung on it.’ The hanja for ‘Uiryeongsu’ (衣領樹) literally mean ‘clothing-amount-tree,’ so its name is essentially its function. In traditional mythology, it grows on the near bank of the Samdocheon. This is also the same tree that the Uiryeong’geom (geom = sword) mentioned in EP13 is made from.

“You watered a tree for 3 hours?” Pfft Hyeonuiong and watering can, exit stage right. 

Minor detail: I just realized I can actually see from Taluipa’s List in this scene that one of the two fishermen is named Kim Gil Sang. Still not sure which one though, so I’m going to stick to calling them Hungry and Thirsty. 

The Dragon King Scroll

Back over to Ji Ah, who examines a creepy scroll hanging in Jin Shik’s vacant quarters. Once again, the show cuts into its own dramatic tension with a moment of levity as Yeon startles both Ji Ah and me by popping open his bag of snacks with a massive bang. The contrast between Ji Ah, who’s in serious investigator mode, and Yeon, who just continues his one-gumiho snack parade, blasé as can be, adds humour to an otherwise grim situation. 

Yeon’s response of, “Oh. Sorry.” is in English, making it sound, if possible, even less sincere.

On the off chance that anyone was wondering, the snack Yeon claims as his favorite here is 솜짱 (somjjang). According to the Korean fans again, this is also a food commonly enjoyed by elderly people.

Subs: “Do you know how many people in Joseon died during the 50 years of war? 3.5 million. I’ve seen more deaths than all the funeral companies in this country.” This is another case of diagonal translation. Yeon’s line is more properly: 

Yeon: Between the Imjin War and the Manchu War, do you know how much of the population of Joseon-era Korea was lost in just 50 years? 3,500,000. I’m a guy who’s seen more funerals than all the funerary companies in Korea put together.  

[Note: Yeon is talking about The Japanese Invasions a.k.a The Imjin War (1592-1598) and The Qing Invasion of Joseon a.k.a. The Manchu War (1636)]

As a linguistic aside, Yeon refers to himself here as a ‘nom’ (rhymes with ‘home’). If you read the breakdown of EP02, you’ll recall that ‘nom’ can mean anything from ‘guy’ to ‘bastard.’ It’s not that Yeon means to call himself a bastard, though. It’s only that the typical alternative here (i.e. ‘person’) carries the implication of 'human.’ Since Yeon is, of course, not human, he opts for ‘nom’ instead. The word gets a lot of mileage in this show in relation to all the supernaturals for that reason. 

Lol This exchange about the Dragon King was great. Point to the writer. I would translate it as: 

Yeon: You’re right, but it looks nothing like him. 

Ji Ah: You’ve...seen him? 

Yeon: Back when I was a mountain god. Well, in today’s terms you’d say we attended a leadership conference together. They over-glamorized him. He’s not this good looking.

Ji Ah’s reaction is perfect too. Her, ‘I don’t even know where to begin with that statement so I’m just going to move on’ look came across loud and clear. 

Yeon’s line as he leans over Ji Ah’s shoulder is subbed: “This is just like ‘Where’s Wally?’” In Korea, the game is called ‘find the hidden picture’ (‘sumun keurim chatgi’). So the line is actually: “What is this, ‘find the hidden picture’ or something?” I’d say there’s a 50/50 chance this line was another ad lib by Lee Dong Wook.

On an entirely different cultural note, ‘Where’s Wally?’ is know as ‘Where’s Waldo?’ in North America and exactly nowhere else. Don’t ask... 

This scene features the first mention we get of Imoogi. Imoogi are among the most famous Korean mythical creatures. In most tellings, they are essentially proto-dragons, though occasionally they can be baby dragons. For example, one imoogi tale claims its imoogi was the son of the Dragon King (the same one Yeon attended a ‘leadership conference’ with). Most of the lore agrees that if an imoogi stays submerged in deep water for a thousand years, it earns the chance to become a dragon, though the caveats vary widely, and many imoogi fail. Finally, while the imoogi in TotNT is evil, imoogi aren’t categorically so; some are good, some aren’t.

Rang and the Mudang

Fun fact: Kim Beom explained in his Instagram LIVE that he chose to wear a red suit partially because the color gave off the feeling of a villain, but also because it contrasted well with the green of the forest. He also named this as his favorite Lee Rang outfit.

For anyone keeping track, Rang speaks to the mudang in banmal. She, in return, addresses him as ‘Lee Rang-nim’ and speaks very respectfully.

Okay, there are a couple of things to unpack in Rang’s following exchange with the mudang: 

Mudang: The Corrupt God, King of the Wicked. He is Lee Ryong-nim.

Rang: [Laughs] What’s with that? Ugh, I seriously just cringed! If you slap a fancy title* from the next world in front of its name, does a snake become a dragon?

First, the mudang’s line here is said in an archaic cant. Second, ‘Lee Ryong’ (properly pronounced, ‘i-ryong,’ since there’s actually no ‘L’ in ‘Lee’), is another name for imoogi.

Finally, when Rang says ‘a fancy title from the next world,’ he’s referring to a posthumous name/title. Nearly every kingdom to have occupied the Korean peninsula has used posthumous titles (시호), most often for deceased royalty. By giving one to Imoogi, the mudang is venerating him. Rang mocks this, seizing on Imoogi’s failure to become a dragon. (Let no one say he and Yeon aren’t brothers).

The subs have Rang referring to Yeon as just ‘Yeon,’ but he actually calls him ‘Lee Yeon.’ That’s a very impersonal way to refer to one’s older brother, which is, of course, intentional on Rang’s part. It serves as another linguistic cue to the audience as to how Rang regards Yeon at this point. 

A note on the evening primrose: tvN released a short blurb about it, since, as far as I can tell, the mythology was invented for the show. It reads: 

Evening primrose that has grown while feeding on the blood and flesh of corpses is the same as poison to gumiho; if they so much as touch its powder, their bodies catch flame.

While the subs consistently just say ‘evening primrose,’ this should more properly be ‘burial ground evening primrose,’ which is how the various characters refer to it. 

Fun fact: ‘Evening primrose’ in Korean is ‘dalmaji-kkot’ (달맞이꽃), which means ‘flowers that welcome the moon’. 

Sub: “Half-brothers, to be exact.” The term Rang uses in Korean is quite literally, ‘brothers from different stomachs,’ so it refers specifically to half brothers who share a father but who have different mothers. I mention it only because Korean viewers will have been given slightly more information about their familial relationship here than was provided in the subs. 

Back over to our leads, as Yeon urges Ji Ah to leave the island post-haste. His line is subbed: “I’m saying you may die if you stay here.” That’s a perfectly fine translation. For anyone curious, though, his line is quite literally: “I’m saying if you stay here, [the conditions are] perfect for dying.” 

Sub: “That’s none of your business.” Yeon’s line is more properly: “That’s not for you to know.”

Ji Ah’s response to this is very literally: “I have no intention to go home for a reason I don’t know. So Lee Yeon should find the person Lee Yeon came here to find. I have to know why my parents came to this island.” This is the first time Ji Ah uses Yeon’s full name as a second person pronoun (so basically to mean ‘you’) when speaking to him. It’s hard to make generalizations about any form of address that don’t have multiple exceptions, but in this case, using his name is a more neutral, and somewhat more familiar, alternative to some of the other pronouns she’s been using when speaking to him. To my sense, it softens her rejection of his advice a little bit.

Back to Rang. His line is a bit awkward to translate, but essentially what he says is, ‘Calling my brother a ‘mountain god’ is an overstatement/ putting it nicely.’ I might approximate this as, ‘Sure, my brother was called a mountain god.’ This is the only time in the entire drama that Rang refers to Yeon as ‘uri hyung,’ and it kills me a bit that it’s not out of fondness, but rather derision. ㅠㅠ

Similarly, when Rang says, “I’m a fox, after all. I have to repay eunhye properly,” he is, of course, using eunhye sarcastically.

The subtitle here once again says ‘the underworld,’ but Rang’s line is actually: “I’m going to go to hell, without fail. Together with Lee Yeon.” The subs really need to do a better job of distinguishing between hell and the afterlife. 

We see Ji Ah instruct Jae Hwan over the phone as to what to search for in the library records. She’s split off from Yeon since we last saw them. 

Elsewhere on the island, Yeon also makes a call, only his is to Halmeom (Taluipa) to ask about Imoogi. When this episode first aired, I thought it was odd that Yeon was using ‘Imoogi’ as if it were a name, since this would be like referring to Yeon as ‘Gumiho.’ He later taunts Terry-Imoogi about just that though (i.e. not even having a proper name), so obviously it was an intentional decision on the writer’s part. 

Sub: “If by chance Ah Eum was born again into this world, I can’t let that thing coexist with her.” This sub went a bit sideways. The ‘by chance’ has been mis-attributed. The line is properly: “There’s no way I could possibly (i.e. by any chance/under no circumstances can I) let such a thing exist in a world in which Ah Eum has been reborn.” Yeon is already sure that Ah Eum has been reborn at this point. He’s saying that because she’s been reborn, he can’t allow Imoogi to coexist with her under any circumstances.

Rang vs Ji Ah

Ji Ah returns to Pyung Hee’s to find ‘Pyung Hee’ reading Moby Dick. This is an ironic enough choice of literature to clue her in to the fact that this isn’t really Pyung Hee. Smart cookie. 

On a character note, I loved that Ji Ah’s knowledge of, and love for, world literature was threaded believably throughout the drama in a way in which it feels natural that she caught on to Rang’s hint here. Point to the writer. 

Again, for anyone keeping track, Ji Ah and Rang speak to each other in banmal, as has been the case since Rang revealed himself at Ji Ah’s house in EP01. Not because they’re close, obviously, but because they have zero respect for one another. It’s a bit of a power play on Ji Ah’s part, too, since she’s (hundreds of years) younger. 

Over to Yeon, who barges into the local market owner’s personal quarters to interrogate him. His line when he catches sight of the scroll on the wall is subbed: “Look at this.” This should more properly be: “Check these people out. There’s one here too.” The word he uses that I translated as ‘these people’ is ‘i-geot-dul,’ which is very literally ‘these things,’ so I sort of understand the confusion in the subs. He means the islanders though, not the scrolls. In contrast, ‘there’s one here too’ does actually refer to the scroll.

The knife Yeon throws hits directly over the slit pupil of the scroll dragon’s eye. Nice aim.

Back to Ji Ah and Rang. When Ji Ah accuses Rang of orchestrating the deaths of the Milk Way survivors, ‘to distract us,’ what she says quite literally is ‘to cover our eyes and ears.’

When Rang applauds Ji Ah’s deductive abilities, his line is subbed, “Awesome.” This should more properly be, “Outstanding,” or, “Exceptional.” I honestly believe he’s being sincere in his praise. Being Rang, though, he’s probably just delighted this makes her more challenging to toy with.

Having completed his interrogation, Yeon’s eyes change as he erases the man’s memory of the event. I suspect the reason Yeon is so cavalier about revealing he’s a gumiho is because he can basically ‘undo’ it whenever he wants using this power.

Ji Ah’s quiet, “I decline” is so satisfying. Also the way Rang pulls back in surprise haha I guess he’s not used to being turned down. 

Rang’s exchange with Ji Ah is subbed as: “Loosen up. Why be so stiff when it’s just good old me?” / “Let me give you some advice since that’s how you feel. Don’t gamble with another’s tragedy just for kicks. There’s a word for people like you, you know. A colossal jerk.” This is difficult to translate, and I think the subs have done a pretty good job, but a closer translation would be:

Rang: Augh— So uptight! Are you going to keep acting this uptight, just between us* (literally, ‘between you and me’)? 

Ji Ah: Between you and me, then, I’ll give you just one word of advice: Don’t carelessly role the dice atop others’ misfortune. People call jerks like you ‘sleazy bastards.’ 

[*Note: Rang’s phrasing implies that they’re somehow close/on good terms, but he’s being sarcastic, of course.]

First off, the word Rang uses for ‘uptight’ (빡빡하다) means ‘stiff; uptight; rigid; inflexible; strict.’ By this, he’s referring to how she never lets her guard down. I don’t know that any of those words properly conveys that, though. 

Second, while I translated Ji Ah’s line about the dice very literally here (in keeping with the spirit of this post), I actually like how the subs handled it from a translation/subtitling standpoint. 

Finally, the subs have Ji Ah calling Rang ‘a colossal jerk,’ but the term she actually uses (‘yang’achi saekki’) is a much stronger expletive. ‘Yang’achi’ is a term for a thug, gangster, or hoodlum. ‘Saekki’ literally means ‘child of.’ In practical use, though, it’s close to ‘bastard.’ (I really didn’t think I’d be explaining the finer points of Korean expletives when I started this series, but here we are). I approximated this as ‘sleazy bastard’ above. 

Pfft Rang being genuinely offended at Ji Ah’s language. Jo Bo Ah talked a bit about what she thought of all the explicit language Ji Ah uses towards Rang in her wrap interview. 

Subs: “When he finds what he wants, you’ll be begging for mercy.” No idea where they got 'begging for mercy.’ What Rang actually says is, “When he  finds what he wants, you’ll see hell.” Unlike in the subtitle, Rang’s warning actually has substance to it, since he’s referring to the fact that, once Yeon identifies Ji Ah as Ah Eum’s reincarnation, their fate with Imoogi will repeat itself. 

By the time Yeon rushes back to Pyung Hee’s, Rang is long gone. His line subbed as: “What did he say?” is, quite literally, “Lee Rang, that nom, what’d he say?” This use of ‘nom’ manages to come off as fairly mild. (He may be a jerk, but he’s Yeon’s jerk). 

Ji Ah’s response has undergone cultural translation to become: “Even when I order pizza, I never go for half-and-half. I always choose just one.” Honestly, though, I don’t know that it was necessary. What she actually says is: “Even when I order chicken, I don’t go for half-seasoned, half-fried; I’m the type to just pick one.”

This scene was originally longer but part of it got deleted. They released the clip, though, so I’ll translate the full exchange here:

Ji Ah: I'm saying I turned him down, your younger brother. Since I bet on this fox.  

Yeon: Let no one say you aren’t a learned (wise) woman. Is that all?  

Rang (voiceover): Don't trust Lee Yeon too much.  

Ji Ah: That's all. But...you said the two of you are brothers.

Yeon: Yeah. We’re brothers. 

Ji Ah: Why are you so hellbent on destroying each other? 

Yeon: It seems like you don’t know since you’re an only child, but, as a rule, the relationship between siblings is a lot like noir, just without the guns.

Ji Ah: There you go, deflecting the question again. Is that a secret, too? 

Yeon: If you ever happen to run into that guy again just the two of you, no matter what, run fast. That kid* despises humans. Especially humans that look like you. 

Ji Ah: Why do you keep taking cracks at people's faces?

Yeon: ...I'm hungry.  

Ji Ah: Why don’t you take the opportunity to pack up and leave while you still can? Your younger brother...it seems he’s preparing some sort of special event. 

Yeon: That’s what I’m waiting for.

*Note: The word Yeon uses that I translated as ‘kid’ is ‘jashik.’ This is another word that, depending on how it’s used, can either be fond or rude. ‘Jashik’ literally means ‘[one’s] child,’ but it’s also commonly used in the sense of ‘punk.’ It’s a bit softer than nom. You wouldn’t use it to refer to yourself, though. 

Ji Ah’s “Why do you keep taking cracks at people’s faces?” (meaning he’s insulting/taking issue with how she looks), is referencing their exchange the previous night when he told her not to smile because she was ugly.

We cut briefly to Shin Joo eating at the Snail Bride as he sizes up Yoo Ri from a distance. Come to think of it, we never got this BGM for the Snail Bride, either...

Ramen Heart-to-Heart

Lee Yeon’s one-gumiho meokbang continues. I feel like Yeon has been nomming on something in nearly every scene this episode. 

The BGM while Yeon and Ji Ah eat is a remix of Yeon’s theme, ‘The Fox’s Wedding Day.’

Sub: “Just because these ladies wear baggy pants in floral prints doesn’t mean they have kind hearts. Get digging, and you’ll find all sorts of dirty secrets.” Yeon’s line is more literally: 

Yeon: Living is all the same [everywhere]~ Just because grannies in the countryside wear flower-patterned pants doesn’t mean that even their insides are flower-patterned. If you start digging, venomous and insidious years come pouring out. 

Ji Ah’s response then plays off of Yeon’s turn of phrase: “Is that the case for you too? I just wondered, ‘With what pattern did you live all those long years?’” (referring to the ‘pattern’ of his heart).

On a minor cultural note: the word Yeon uses is ‘mombbae pants’ (몸빼바지), which are a fashion(?) staple in the countryside. You’ll know what I mean if you run the hangeul through a google image search. That’s where the subs got ‘baggy’ from even though Yeon doesn’t explicitly say it. 

Sub: “Why have you been searching for your parents all this time?” Yeon’s line is more properly: “Then what about you? What has made you wait for your parents for such a long time?” 

Sub: “I’m the same. I’m waiting for the one I miss.” I would have translated this as: “I’m waiting for someone I miss,” which is literally what he says. 

Sub: “Why did you part ways when you still miss her this much?” This is a bit hard to translate into natural-sounding English. The word Ji Ah uses is ‘mi’ryeon,’ which means ‘lingering attachment.’ So her line is quite literally: “Your face is so full of lingering attachment, how did you come to part ways/break up?”

Sub: “The first being I loved was a human girl who ended up dying. It’s why I’m still hung up on her. Happy now?” Hmm... I would translate Yeon’s line as:

Yeon: My damn* first love was a human of all things, but she died, so I’m foolishly unable to let go of my lingering attachment. Happy now? 

[*Note: Yeon is cursing is the phenomenon of first love itself, not Ah Eum.]

His statement is witty, because the word he uses for ‘foolish’ is also pronounced ‘mi’ryeon.’ In this case, though, 'mi’ryeon’ means, ‘foolhardy and dense enough to be stubborn to a preposterous degree.’ Which is probably a fair assessment given he’s been waiting 600 years. The sub for this line made it sound like he’s saying, ‘I’m hung up on her because she’s a human girl who died,’ which would just be weird. 

Shin Joo Meets Yoo Ri

Okay, minor detail, but what exactly was Yoo Ri trying to accomplish here before Shin Joo stopped her from entering an off-limits area of the Snail Bride?

The BGM here is called ‘Skip a Beat’ (‘Kanju Jump’). I found the track title slightly surprising since it’s actually taken from an ad lib made by Kim Yong Ji (Yoo Ri) in a later episode. 

For anyone keeping track, Shin Joo and Yoo Ri are speaking in a mix of banmal and jondaetmal in this scene.

We next see Shin Joo on the phone with Yeon, whining about the whole ordeal and asking an unsympathetic Yeon to come back and retrieve his necklace for him.

Yeon’s line that’s subbed as, “Deadly?” could mean more than one thing. The line is literally, “What? The thief was deadly?” The word for ‘deadly,’ though, could equally mean that she was a knockout (i.e. gorgeous). It’s probably a bit of both.

Subs: “There’s nothing more pathetic than being blinded by a woman’s beauty...” / “But you also ruined your life by falling for beautiful woman.”  For the record, neither of them actually uses the word ‘beauty/beautiful’ here. I would translate this exchange as: 

Yeon: You... The most pathetic thing in the world, is being blinded by a woman, and... 

Shin Joo: But being blinded by a woman and wrecking your life is something Lee Yeon-nim did too, isn’t it? 

Yeon: What, you punk?!

Lol Yeon’s “What, you punk?!” is a familiar refrain whenever Shin Joo unwittingly(?) insults Yeon. The word is ‘imma’ (임마) or sometimes ‘inma’ (인마). Yeon consistently uses the former.

‘Bad Fate’

Subs: “Why is that branch broken? It must’ve hurt.” Yeon is actually personifying the tree here, which makes sense seeing as he can communicate with it. So his line is more literally: “Now why has this kid gone and made a fuss breaking [his] branch? It must’ve hurt.” Which is cute.

I actually really appreciated this short scene of Yeon healing the tree. Yeon may no longer be the master of Baekdudaegan, but this scene showed that it’s still very much a part of who he is; not just his powers, but the care he has for the forest. 

Fun (?) fact: It turns out this simple scene was actually a huge pain to film. 

Subs: “I hope you grow well.” Actually: “Eat well and grow well.” I realize that sounds awkward in English, but the line is a directive. He’s once again speaking to the tree. 

Sub: “The wind is blowing from the northwest. Something is coming.” I would have translated this as: “A northwest wind blows... Something is coming.” That’s partly a tonal choice, but it’s also a more literal reflection of the original Korean. 

We finally catch back up to the end of EP02, as Jae Hwan calls Ji Ah from the library to tell her what he’s found. This time, we see her connect the first dead body in 1954 to what the forest spirit told them more explicitly. 

The dates of the four incidents are: August 13, 1954; August 25, 1961; September 6, 1979; and September 7, 1987. Ji Ah quickly deduces that these all work out to be the same date on the lunar calendar: July 15th. In 2020, that works out to be Wednesday, September 2nd. If you’ll recall, the wedding at the start of EP01 was held on August 29, so it’s only been 3 days since Yeon and Ji Ah crossed paths at the wedding hall. 

“Long time no see, Lee Yeon.” What is it with Imoogi and choking Yeon?

Subs: “You should’ve let me go.”  More precisely: “I know, right? You should have let me go.”

Yeon’s final “What are you?” should probably have been subbed as: “I’m asking what you are!” since both his tone and phrasing have grown more insistent. 

Subs: Our ill-fated relationship would’ve ended if you hadn’t stopped the boat from crossing the Samdo River. More literally:

Jimoogi: Our ak’yeon should have ended. That is, if only you hadn’t stopped the boat from crossing the Samdocheon. 

The word the subs translated as ‘our ill-fated relationship’ is ‘ak’yeon’ (悪縁), which literally means ‘bad fate.’ In contrast to the broader, ‘destiny’ sort of fate (‘un’myeong’) however, ‘yeon’ (縁) is inherently relational. It refers specifically to the fate between two people (or even between a person and a place). ‘Ak’ (悪) means ‘evil.’ So 'ill-fated’ is a bit misleading as a translation since the word actually refers to the relationship between Yeon and Imoogi (i.e. mortal enemies), rather than the fact that Yeon and Ah Eum’s story ended tragically (as in, ‘an ill-fated love’). 

WAIT. Subs: “No. That woman is born with a face that only I can recognize. And I don’t see it in you.” What?? That doesn’t even make sense. Yeon’s line is: 

Yeon: No. That woman is born carrying a sign that only I can recognize. You don’t have it. 

Obviously, Yeon is referring to the fox bead, and I’m fairly sure that was apparent since the line was intercut with the scene in which he imparts the bead to Ah Eum, but that seems like a pretty critical line to fudge up. 

Jimoogi: “You really don’t know anything, do you, Lee Yeon?” It’s weird to me that they have Imoogi addressing Yeon as just ‘Yeon’ in the subs. That makes it seem like they’re friends or something...

Subs: “The scar is gone.” Actually: “The wound disappeared.” 

Deadball

Subs: “We hate each other too much to play catch. I actually meant to kill you.” Wait, WHAT?! Yeon’s line is: 

Yeon: Our relationship is too makjang for that. That was meant to be a deadball, actually. 

Makjang, for the uninitiated, is a slang word taken from the phrase ‘the final scene’ (‘majimak jangmyeon’) that has come to refer to an entire genre, as well as particular dramatic elements or conventions of Korean storytelling. Dramabeans explain the term here. When Yeon says his relationship with Rang is ‘makjang,’ he’s essentially saying it’s overly fraught, not that he hates his brother. 

He also doesn’t say he meant to kill Rang. ‘Deadball’ is a Korean baseball term for a pitch that hits a player (typically causing the game to be paused). So Yeon’s just saying he meant for the ‘ball’ to hit Rang, rather than for Rang to catch it. 

On a personal note, it really bothers me when the subs spread all over the internet and they’re wrong like this. I don’t mind slight changes in phrasing or wording, but when they grossly misrepresent the characters like this it can be a bit upsetting. It’s no wonder I sometimes feel like I watched a completely different drama. ㅠㅠ

Yeon’s cheeky smile™ XD

The BGM in this scene is actually ‘The Forest of the Agwi.’

Subs: “Run away.” Yeon’s line is quite literally: ‘Get away from here,’ or even, ‘put distance between here and you.’ I mention it because I really appreciated that, despite all the danger she confronts, Yeon never once tells Ji Ah to ‘run away’ (‘domang ga’). His second ‘run away’ in the subs is also just him telling her to hurry up (literally ‘go quickly’).

The following banter between the brothers is something I mentioned in an ask a while back because all the humour had been lost in translation. To recap, though, one recurring joke the show uses plays off the word for ‘bastard/son of a bitch,’ which translates literally as ‘child of a dog’ (kae-saekki). As you might imagine, this gets a lot of mileage in relation to Rang, our resident ‘baby fox’ (agi yeou) a.k.a. ‘child of a fox’ (yeou-saekki):

Rang: This is domestic violence, you know?

Yeon: (Nodding) They say you’re supposed to raise wild children* with a firm hand (literally: hit them as you raise them), but I couldn’t do that, so I ended up raising a fox child into a dog child (son of a bitch), didn’t I?

Rang: And who was the jerk who kicked that child (saekki) to the curb? You treat me like a stray dog any chance you get. 

Yeon: My little brother, I’ll have to gift you a muzzle this Christmas. 

Rang’s line was subbed: “You keep blaming it on me, when you were the one who turned me into an orphan.” which I find fairly problematic since that makes it sound like Yeon killed Rang’s parents. It’s also just plain wrong; to the extent that I’m not even sure what went wrong in the translation process. 

The word Yeon uses here for ‘wild children’ is ‘horo jashik’ (호로자식), which many Koreans understand to mean something like a barbarian child, but the true origin, as it turns out, is a parentless child. It’s also a term used predominantly by elderly people heh

Finally, because the dog jokes dropped out ‘muzzle’ became ‘mouth guard’ in the subs, which is both less funny and less sensical. The two are also conceptually opposed, since ‘muzzle’ implies that Yeon means to protect the world from Rang whereas ‘mouth guard’ is more about protecting Rang.

As Ji Ah continues to put distance between herself and the brothers, she happens upon the mudang’s house, which she immediately clocks as such from the obangi. 

I like that Ji Ah doesn’t immediately call the mudang out for lying, but instead continues to question her knowing she’s lying. Sometimes the lies people tell can be as telling as the truth. 

When Ji Ah questions her, the mudang tells her the fishing ritual is held during the ‘Ghost Festival’. This is a Buddhist festival similar to All Souls Day. In Korean it’s called ‘Baek Joong Nal’ (literally ‘hundred-gather-day’) meaning ‘the day when all the spirits gather.’ It falls on the full moon of the seventh lunar month (so July 15th of the lunar calendar), which is, of course, the date Ji Ah identified as the day when the murders were taking place. That’s why we get the zoom in and the flash to the newspaper dates: Ji Ah has put everything together. 

Chyron: “Obangi (五方旗) A five-colored flag symbolizing ‘life, death, illness, sacrifice, and ancestors’”. This is the quick quotes version. Obangi have their roots in the Chinese philosophy of Wuxing, but for more on that, I’ll refer you to Wikipedia. In Korea, the colors of the obangi (red, blue, white, black, and yellow) are known as the five orientation colors, and are closely tied to both shamanism and fortune telling. You’ll notice these same colors flying outside the fortune teller’s in EP06.

I also appreciated that Ji Ah didn’t just foolishly drink the tea here. She was properly on her guard. It’s only that she mis-identified the source of danger.

Back over to our fox brothers. Rang’s line is subbed: “That was plenty of time.” This is more properly: “I think I’ve bought more than enough time by now.” So he’s actually quite overt in telling Yeon exactly what he'd been up to.  

Subs: “Don’t you know why she ended up on this island?” More closely: “Do you still not get it? Why that woman ended up coming to this island of all places?” 

We see the mudang encircle the creepy well with burial ground evening primrose to ward against Yeon, who is currently searching the island for Ji Ah to no avail. 

Subs: “You tricked your mom while you were in her womb.” This is a bit difficult to translate. The word the mudang uses that was translated as ‘tricked’ is ‘ggweda,’ which means to ‘lure’ or ‘entice.’ So what she means is that the part of Imoogi that was reincarnated with Ji Ah ‘lured’ her mother to the island by sending her recurring dreams. 

Gumiho

Lol Yeon: “I am the original mountain spirit, the master of the mountains and streams. Lift this darkness and lead me to her!” This is more literally:

Yeon: I am the original mountain god, the master of your mountains and streams.* Part this darkness and lead me to that woman!

[*Note: ‘Mountains and streams’ here can also be taken to mean ‘nature’ at large.]

Lol The line is met with silence and the soft hoot of a lone owl. That’s basically the director’s version of *crickets* isn’t it?

This line is another rare case in which Yeon speaks archaically, and it serves to make the command sound more formal and potentially magical. It’s also worth noting that he’s addressing the forest directly as a whole here (thus the ‘your’). 

Fun fact: When Lee Dong Wook did his TotNT VLIVE, his promotional team made him perform this line again live just to mess with him haha

The BGM here as Yeon heads off through the forest led by his (supernatural?) fireflies is ‘Opening Title: The Legend of the Fox.’ It sounds vaguely Harry Potter-ish to me (not complaining). 

For the record, Ji Ah is now speaking to the mudang in banmal out of disdain. 

Sub: “Be a sacrifice. You are a very special child.” Pfft ‘Be a sacrifice’ sounds oddly funny to me. Her line is: “Become a sacrifice. I’m told you’re a very special child.” So the implication is that this information came from someone/something else. 

Does anyone know what BGM this is as Yeon sprints though the forest? I think it might be another unreleased track, but I’m not positive...

Yeon’s “Halt!” is once again in olden speech. It indicates linguistically that he's in Gumiho mode.  

Out of curiosity, is it not odd for people watching with subs when Ji Ah’s only utterance is ‘Lee Yeon’ but the subs just say ‘Yeon’? 

Subs: “This has nothing to do with the old master of the mountain. Why don’t you keep walking?” I would have translated this as: “It is a matter unrelated to the former master of the mountain. Beg, go along your way.” She’s once again using olden-speech in her second sentence.

Lol Sub: “Says the living corpse.” I like this sub. Yeon’s line is quite literally: “With the ‘juje’ of a living corpse...” ‘Juje’ is essentially your station or lot in life, and it’s used almost exclusively derogatorily. 

Sub: “Who was it that provided you with longevity you don’t deserve?” More closely: “Who was it? The one who gave you a lifespan so much longer than you deserve?”

Yeon: “I asked you whom you serve!” (literally ‘what’ you serve). Yeon once again drops into an archaic cant for this line. It serves to underline his full age and gives his demand an extra air of authority. 

Yeon’s TAILS. I can’t believe this was the last we saw of them. ㅠㅠ Personally, I interpreted the firey tails as being a sort of ‘shadow’/ projection of his actual tails, which I assumed were actually more physically there (since he talks about shampooing them in the teaser interview). My sister thinks differently, though. Guess we’ll never know...

The BGM for this sequence is naturally ‘Gumiho.’ If you read our EP01 breakdown, you’ll know I was fully expecting this to be Yeon’s theme. But no, it’s the whimsical 'The Fox’s Wedding Day’ instead haha

Okay, Yeon just casually smiting the mudang is pretty badass. Seeing as he can command lightning, I’m pretty sure he was joking when he told Ji Ah, ‘even gumiho are afraid of electricity.’ 

If by chance you wondered what was going though Yeon’s mind when he smote the mudang, it’s featured in the EP03 subtitle poster.

I appreciated that Yeon just accepts Ji Ah at her word here when she tells him all she needs from him is one arm for support. I feel like in most dramas the male lead would have just forcefully swept the heroine off her feet amidst her protests, which I always find more problematic than romantic.

For that matter, when it became clear that Ji Ah really did need help, I appreciated that she didn’t act shy or coy and just accepted being carried without making a big deal of it. 

Pfft The way Ji Ah’s eyes flash when Yeon tells her the mudang was just a human being says it all. 

Yeon: “So you say... Excuse me, but you nearly died just now, you know?” This line is once again cheekily in jondaetmal.

*Ominous close up of the well*

Thank You

We catch up with Shin Joo at the supermarket as he talks to Yeon over the phone. 

Shin Joo’s ‘PD-nim’ has once again become, ‘the director lady’ in the subs. *Sigh*

Subs: “Your love story is more than just famous among us.” Actually: “Just how famous is Lee Yeon-nim’s love story in our world? It’s obvious your younger brother* must have been playing tricks!” 

Shin Joo refers to Rang here as ‘donsaeng-bun’ (younger sibling + polite word for person) for the same reason he calls Rang, ‘Lee Rang-nim.’ It’s an extension of his regard for Yeon, rather than for Rang himself.

Lol Shin Joo hanging up on Yeon. His love for supermarkets and fried chicken are actually in his character profile. Apparently, they’re what convinced him living as a human was worth the existential crisis that came with it. 

Sub: “I’m too much of a human to easily fall asleep after such an event. Join me.” More literally: “I’m human, so on a day like today I can’t sleep sober. You* have a glass, too.”

The word Ji Ah uses for ‘you’ here is ‘ja’ne’ (자네), which is a polite term... except it’s only used to refer to people younger than you. So’s she’s talking down to him politely haha This is what prompts Yeon’s line that follows it:

Sub: “I never said anything since it could make seem old-fashioned, but you’re too informal with me when you don’t even know my age.”

 Yeon: I kept holding it in thinking you’d call me an old fart, but you’re [using] banmal really blatantly. Just how old do you think I am?”

Yeon’s ‘Just how old do you think I am?’ is rhetorical. It’s not that Ji Ah is necessarily unaware of his true age, but rather that she acts as if she is. 

Sub: “Those over 60 are universally considered as grandpas.” Actually: “You know everyone over 60 can be called a grandpa, right?”

Pfft Sub: “Be as informal as you like.” What Yeon literally says is, “Please lower your speech,” but he uses very respectful language to say it. I’m not sure if he’s being sarcastic, or if he just hates the thought of being considered a grandpa that much haha It’s probably a bit of both.

Aww Ji Ah promising to protect Yeon. I luff her. 

Ji Ah: "Do I perhaps have something you’re looking for?” I love that she doesn’t miss a thing.

Lol Yeon: “Who am I, Jesus? Just drink what you have.” 

The Vanishing

Subs: “Don’t ever resort to cursing people again. Karma can sting.” Quite literally: “You were lucky you kept your life, but don’t do such a thing* as cursing others ever again. They return, you know. Back on the one who casts them.” 

*Yeon uses the disparagement marker ‘ddaui’ (따위) to refer to the act of cursing someone here. You may recall it from our EP01 breakdown. 

Ji Ah chooses this moment to come running in to announce that the island has turned into a ghost town over night, which is enough to make even Yeon pause, perplexed.  

I love the way Yeon and Ji Ah exchange looks here on the dock. They don’ t know what’s up yet, but they intend to find out. 

‘Blue Moon’~~~ This worked great scored over the drone-camera pan out. I may be slightly biased, though.  

And that concludes Episode 3. Once again, thank you to everyone who commented or left feedback on the last episode! Never hesitate to send me your thoughts, even if they’re just to say what you found funny or surprising. It helps me to know what’s of interest for one thing, but I also just enjoy chatting about the show. ;)

A brief note on pronunciation/notation: for words like ‘sa’ingeom’ and ‘mi’ryeon,’ the apostrophe is there just as a pronunciation guide. So in the case of the former, to indicate that it’s pronounced ‘sah-in’ and not ‘sine’ or ‘sane.’ Similarly, for the latter, the apostrophe is just to indicate that this should be pronounced ‘mi-ryeon’ and not ‘mir-yeon.’ I could have just as easily done this with ‘Hyeon’ui’ong’ except that’s a lot of apostrophes and I set an earlier precedent of not. It’s not an aspiration or anything fancy. Hopefully that makes sense. 

Once again, I’d like to credit my sister for being the main researcher and fact-checker for these, in addition to weighing in on all the translations. I don’t always take her advice, but I do always appreciate it haha. 

Thank you also to everyone who bought us coffee! Your support is truly felt and appreciated ♡ As usual, this took an ungodly amount of time, so every coffee helps haha. For anyone just joining us (or not), if you’d like to see more of these, please consider buying us a coffee. If you follow the link, you can buy a $2 cup of virtual coffee. This helps me to gauge how much interest there is, and also how much value people place on these. If you cared enough to read all the way to the end, please at least consider it. Once I’ve established there’s enough interest, I’ll proceed with Episode 4. ;)

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Unification Church babies dying and members starving – as they follow the orders of Sun Myung Moon

▲ Moon with his 1959 birthday cake at Chongpa-dong in Seoul. Pak Bo-hi is on the right, Eu Hyo-won is on the left.

The Family Federation for World Peace and Unification is another name for Sun Myung Moon’s organization.

Steve Kemperman: “Sharon related the story of the early days of the Korean Church—couples had sometimes left their babies in garbage cans to die. I’d heard about these tragedies before from the higher-ups and understood that there’d been barely enough food for the parents to keep from starving to death. But why then, asked Vick, had Sun Myung Moon continued to receive the choicest foods?”

Lord of the Second Advent (1981) by Steve Kemperman (page 20)

_________________________________

This testimony, given in the early 1980s, confirms the starvation.

Mrs. Kang Chung-won (36 couple), the wife of Lee Jae-seok

“We witnessed on the streets. In 1970, we left our children behind and went pioneering again for three years. This was the beginning of the tradition in the Korean Church, today, whereby all Blessed wives must go pioneering for the same period. After witnessing and doing itinerary work around the country I returned to my home. Immediately Father ordered me to work with the Woman’s I.F.V.O.C. and that is where I work today as the General Secretary.

Having attended Father until now, I think that those of us who still remain are those who submit themselves completely to Father’s words, those who have no self and those who are concerned only for the fulfilment of God’s will.

I was raised as a daughter of a rich family, and after receiving the Blessing I have suffered more than I can ever express in words. When I was pregnant with my first child, I was sent out witnessing. I had nothing to eat so I sometimes went to the mountains and gathered wild vegetables to eat. While I was witnessing, I fainted on the street from lack of blood. I once had no place to go and had to spend the night in the room of one of our members. At times I had to stay in a place like a storage house with many students. I endured these difficulties, however, because I knew that Father, too, had gone through much suffering. When I thought about his having walked the way of restoration through indemnity, my only thought was to accomplish his will for him. Father had told us that those who were rich before joining our church had to indemnify this by going through much poverty.

I kept these words and I went through the typical indemnity course. I would witness, with my baby son on my back. He became seriously ill. Because of malnutrition, he was always getting sick. I had no money to take him to a hospital so I took him to a Health Clinic for poor people. The doctor there felt so sorry for me that he gave me several years supply of vitamins for my baby.

In 1966 when our church began a movement to quadruple our membership I worked very hard because as the wife of a church director I had to stand on the front line. When we collected used articles to raise money for witnessing, I worked harder than anyone. Once on my way home from having visited the house of a member I suddenly felt all strength go out of my body and I fell down on the street. I began to sweat cold sweat and the right side of my body became paralyzed. Someone passing by stood me up against a fence and went to contact my church. Our members carried me into a room.

We had no money to go to hospital, so we locked the door to the church and prayed together. “Father, what shall I do if I am like this? Your glory will be hidden within me. I am not thinking of myself but of your will when I ask you to make this body whole again.”

After a week of praying like this, I recovered completely and started working again. My husband also worked so hard that he caught T.B. and sometimes vomited blood, but he never left his public position and maintained it to the end. When I look back upon my life I myself wonder how I could have come through such a difficult course without stumbling. Although I am not worthy, I have tried to become a person who can appear without shame on a page of history. I worked hard for the day when my children would ask me “Mother, what did you do for God’s will when we were small?” and I would be able to answer them with pride.

To help my husband I became a door to door salesman, I carried merchandise around in a cloth sack and sold them. I opened a dress shop, a small Chinese restaurant and sold guns.

One time I became so tired that I collapsed on a sofa and water shot out from my cheek like a fountain. I went to a skin doctor and he told me that this sometimes happens as a result of fatigue. He said that if the water had gone up to my head I would have died. He told me that God must be protecting me.

Even after giving birth to a baby, I didn’t have the chance to rest my body for a long time, because I had to keep working. During the effort to quadruple our membership, we came into contact with two ministers and had a revival meeting with them. This became the beginning of the Super Denomination movement.

I worked very hard at the dress shop to support my husband while he pushed forward, in spite of all opposition and persecution, to reach the ministers who were reluctant to attend our seminars. With the help of God my business went well but I never used any money for myself, never even making any clothes for myself.

Even while doing business I witnessed on the street and in the countryside whenever I had time. I always told my employees that I would not be doing that business forever and that if I were to be commanded to do public work I would have to comply.

Finally from December 1, 1970, I began the three year witnessing course. At the time my children were six, four and ten years old. Also I had not yet returned the money I had borrowed to open the dress shop. I couldn’t afford to be away from the shop for even an hour, but I left it behind and went to my witnessing area. A few days later I received a letter from my husband. He said he had always known that I was brave but had never thought that I could be as brave as this.

I have been opposed by society, expelled from school and criticized by all people. The reason I have been able to come through even the most difficult course is that I always think of how Father has suffered so much more in order to do God’s will and that I will endure anything for him. As long as the living God exists, I will accomplish his Will.

This is how I have come this far and this is how I will continue into the future. All of you are going through many difficulties now but let’s endure and become victors before God.”

_________________________________

Why love matters – Sue Gerhardt

More hungry Unification Church members

Unification Church children sent to orphanages in Korea, or left behind in the US

The baby was very small and undernourished

Another mother, Shin-hee Eu, gives her testimony

VIDEO: Eu Shin-hee spoke on Japanese TV, and her son, Gap Yoon-gil, was also interviewed about being sent to an orphanage.

“Children … taken from the parents and placed in nurseries for three years,” Margie Laflin.

Jacob House: A Chorus of Sorrows: Limi Bauer (podcast Part 1)

[im-totally-not-an-alien]

Final Fantasy prompts # 31

1. Sephiroth uses Cloud as a therapist.

Sephiroth going on about his life while Cloud is tied to a chair and gagged is just hilarious to me.

2. AVALANCHE, Sephiroth and the Turks are all turned back into 10 year olds and booted, (by Aerith probably) to the Pokémon world and have to survive as Pokémon trainers. The problem? They were all separated and no one has any way to contact eachother.

(Inspired by Viincentsvalentines pokemon/ff7 post. I adore Cloud having a overprotective and murderous Shinx as a starter pokemon. I also love AC Cloud with a Luxray)

(I have a set of rules I use for the pokemon AUs if you're interested)

3. Cloud is ace/aro and is just working on Fenrir, blissfully oblivious to everyone fighting over him just inside the bar.

Those who aren't fighting are fueling the fire and making the situation worse.

In short, Reno starts a shipping war with an actual war.

There is no mercy.

Featuring: people trying to flirt with Cloud only to be full-body tacked away mid conversion, Cloud shrugging everything off, Rufus being a manipulate weasel, and Cloud choosing to "Date" his motorcycle just to get people off his back. No one is respecting Clouds boundaries or sexual orientation.

4. Cloud gets thrown back in time but loses his memory. He has no idea who he is or how he got to this snowfield, luckily this energetic, spikey haired man befriends him and is dead set on showing him off to Angeal.

Genesis had to do a double take, the blond wasn't just well armed. He was practically prepared for war. A massive overly intricate sword was the mans back, his gaze was unwavering, even when faced with the three most powerful men in the world. The redhead barely had to glance at him to tell that all the materia on him was at max level, even the supports.

"Well, my dear friend," he began, turning to Angeal, "it seems your puppy has brought home a wolf."

5. Sephiroth appears to Cloud in his apartment, intending to torment him again. Cloud doesn't seem to acknowledge him, no matter what he says or does. He even grabbed his puppet by the throat and pinned him against the wall.

Nothing. Cloud just closed his eyes and began counting backwards from thirty. The former general released him and Cloud went back to making his sandwich.

The silverette was thoroughly miffed at this point and stalked Cloud throughout his apartment as he sat down the plate of food down on his table next to a glass of water. The blond then darted into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a small orange pill bottle.

Intrigued, Sephiroth watched the blond down two pills before picking up the bottle.

He looked back at his blond, quietly assessing him as he ate his sandwich.

"So. You've been hallucinating."

6. Cloud bursts into a packed SOLDIER rec room disguised as a SOLDIER 2nd and yells, "Who knew about the cat?!" Then sprints across the room and breaks through the window, leading down to the streets below.

The room erupts into chaos.

Later Yuffie pays him 2000 gil

7. Sephiroth not understanding the symptoms of a crush while Genesis tries to teach him how to flirt.

Genesis is not having a good time.

8. Cloud and Sephiroth are trapped in a small enclosed space. So there they lay, pinned by debris, pressed against eachother, and making awkward conversation cause Cloud will be damned if he let's Sephiroth go on about the whole "Sailing the cosmos" thing again.

9. Vincent and Cloud secretly sing duets together when no one is around. Poor Barret winds up listening to them sing (and dance to) "Instruments of cyanide" (DA games version) and is thoroughly shook.

On the plus side, he now knows why Valentine always carries around those small Bluetooth speakers

10. Time traveling animal version of Cloud who reverts back into a human while being petted by Sephiroth.

"....I can explain."

11. Doll AU where Jenova creates an AC Cloud doll for Sephiroth, a CC Zack doll for Angeal, and a FF7 Aerith doll for Genesis. All of the dolls are life-sized and perfect copies of the originals. The three generals didn't know what to do with them at first. Sephiroth shoved his in a closet, Angeal sat his on the couch and poked fun at the real Zack, and Genesis layed his lovely maiden in a glass coffin filled with lillies, using her as a center piece in his home decor.

It starts with Sephiroth occasionally brushing his dolls blond hair, eventually coming to brush it every night. He became obsessed with caring for the doll, until one night, while he was laying in bed pretending to be asleep in an attempt to do the real thing, his doll came to brush his hair. He remained still while the doll lovingly groomed him. Even after the doll left, Sephiroth did not sleep.

The Zack doll...was another thing entirely. Angeals things would go missing on a regular basis. His laptop, his keys, his keycard. He couldn't tell you how many times he'd been locked out of his own apartment. The weirdest time, was just ofter he had comforted Zack, telling him that he cares about him more than any doll, no matter how lifelike it is.

Angeal had night terrors for a week strait and every pair of pants he owned disappeared on the day of a military presentation he was required to attend.

Genesis's doll has full on disappeared from her case, sometimes for days at a time. The redhead is always furious, convinced someone is stealing her. He sets up cameras, but they catch nothing. One moment the doll is there, then she's gone. He always felt like he was being laughed at when this happened, on the other hand, the flowers in the case mysteriously never wilted and new materia would appear around his house sporadically. Which was weird because he was always meticulously organized regarding his materia.

Aka Eldrich Doll au horror story slowburn.

12. Sephiroth realized his puppet was growing stronger at the same rate he was growing weaker

(Not related to no. 11 unless you want it to be)

13. Sephiroth shoving a ring onto Clouds finger and proudly declaring them married.

Cloud thinks he's gone completely off his rocker.

14. Sephiroth devolving into base animal instincts to court Cloud.

Example: giving him shiney rocks and materia, blankets, and basic food and hygene products, killing people the blond hates, complimenting him on both his looks and skills, and of course, preening himself to look the absolue best for his precious.

The best part is that it actually works

15. Vincent and Cloud cuddling in Vincents coffin. Cozy.

[anneshirleycuffbert]

all jokes aside, Gilbert Blythe is one of the best characters of awae. the fandom likes to make fun of him a bit because of his recent clownery, I know I have, but we all love him and I think it’s important to remember the reasons why we stan this clown king. season three Gilbert Blythe:

treats everyone with kindness and respect

is a pure boi who cried bc he was ashamed of the way he handled Mary’s diagnosis and wanted to be strong for her

tried to find Elijah to tell him of Mary’s illness even though he stole many of the Blythe’s heirlooms when he slept under Gil’s roof as a welcomed guest

supported Bash when the love of his life died because he knows what it’s like to lose a loved one and was not ashamed to introduce the LaCroix family as his own to the Rose family

believed in and stood up for Anne when most everyone was ready to cancel her even though she didn’t treat him very kindly prior to but for good reason

protested side-by-side with Anne for the right for freedom of speech and encouraged her in the beginning when she was losing hope

loves loves loves Anne Shirley-Cuthbert in the best way he knows how and went to consult her first about Mr. Rose’s offer bc he was willing to give it all up for her

has aspirations to make a difference in the world by becoming a doctor because he’s witnessed firsthand what it’s like to lose someone from sickness that may have been treated but weren’t due to lack of modern medicine and poor healthcare

is a good person

is Gilbert Blythe

Gilbert Blythe has been through so, so much for a person his age, and to still be Gilbert Blythe, after everything he’s experienced, is admirable. He didn’t have a proper childhood and had to watch his father and Mary deteriorate and die, forcing him to grow up real quick. Though his experiences have made him wiser, he is still a boy, still a person, still someone who has lost loved ones and is still processing all the change that’s happened in a hot minute. As Moody said, Gilbert is determining the course of his life and that’s not something he takes lightly.

As of right now, he is not aware that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, the girl he’s loved the moment she whacked his head with her slate, loves him, is in love with him.

What he does know is that he has a real chance to pursue a dream and aspiration he’s had since his father died. He’s been holding out for hope and this is the light at the end of the tunnel. Say what you will, but I think he is allowed to consider the easy way out by taking the offered silver platter after the burdens he’s been carrying his whole life. It’s not even a matter of Anne vs. Winifred either, it’s a matter of his home and the people he loves vs. his dream and the Sorbonne.

Gilbert Blythe is a beautiful person in pain and whatever decision that episode 10 will reveal he made is the decision he believes is the right one so if anyone tries to hate on or cancel him because he’s considering this opportunity for his future, you’re about to catch multiple hands.

[thebluestbluewords]

I haven't watched D2 in almost a year please forgive me

This is 1800 words of NONSENSE about PIRATES except there's actually no named pirates appearing in this section yet.

*

He’d been taking a walk.

The isle isn’t safe, obviously. It’s a prison colony, full of the worst of the worst, shaken up and left to stew in their own anger and his family’s incompetence for twenty years. Of course it’s not going to be a safe place for little Auradon boys to linger.

He’d gone less than a block. Hadn’t been planning on going any further. It’s an emotional whiplash, going from being upset because his girlfriend is secretly using magic to cope with Auradon life instead of just talking to him about it, to breaking up because she’s decided she can’t cope with life outside of the place she grew up.

It’s oversimplifying. There’s a lot more to it than just not being able to cope, but it’s hard to see that through the sheer hurt that’s stuck in Ben’s chest. They’d been doing well, until all of sudden they weren’t, and there was no time in between to try and fix things. Always jumping to the most extreme solution, that’s Mal. And it’s something he likes about her, usually! She’s got wild solutions for things, and she’s able to come up with the most outrageous ideas and play them off like they’re absolutely nothing, and she--

Doesn’t want to live in the same country as him anymore.

Yeah.

So that sucks.

Bringing Mal back home is more important than whatever concerns he’s got about their romantic future together.. No matter what’s going on emotionally, it’s still not right to leave her alone back on the island that they just brought her over from. There’s garbage burning in the streets here! The food stalls all have signs about limited supplies and taking what you can get, and the amount of knives and weapons on the average person walking down the street here isn’t exactly unexpected, but it’s just… it’s a lot. It’s not like he’s completely unaware of his surroundings! On the isle of villains, it’s important to stay alert. He gets that. It’s just that emotional turmoil, combined with the little fact that he’s all of sixteen and he’s pretty sure his heart is breaking, might be distracting him. Just a little bit.

Nobody ever expects to be grabbed by a giant guy and yanked into an alley, okay?

“Urg?” Ben manages to say, around the hand that’s being clamped over his mouth. “Eahhh?”

“Don't talk,” the mystery voice behind him directs. It’s not the person who’s holding him, so that’s bad. Being outnumbered is bad. “We’re taking you to see our captain, and if you run we have instructions to make that...significantly more difficult for you.”

Ben nods. There’s something tapping threateningly at his kneecaps, and he’s pretty sure he knows what the voice means by making it harder to run. He’s broken a bone once, when he was a kid and tried to climb the tree in his mom’s favorite glade, and fell out. If riding back to the castle with a broken arm had hurt, he doesn’t even want to imagine what being dragged along by a villain with a broken leg might feel like.

“Good,” the voice says, like it’s funny. Oh. They don’t use that word here, so it’s a joke about him. “We’d like to bring you back in one piece, your highness, so just keep cooperating and maybe this won’t go so bad for you after all.”

“Mmh” Ben agrees. He’s sort of afraid to nod, in case the arm around his throat tries to squeeze any harder, but it feels like a good move to go along with whatever this pair wants. Oh god. Hopefully it’s just the two of them, and then whatever captain they’re bringing him to.

There’s definitely more than just the two of them.

Oh no.

The big guy, or maybe a girl, actually, it’s sort of impossible to tell with the way he’s just being held against some very large and solid person, starts to tie his hands behind his back.

Okay, there’s the panic now.

Ben wants out, he wants his hands, he wants to breathe, he’s-- okay, hyperventilating doesn’t help anything. He’s been taught how to break out of hand ties, but it’s not going to help if there’s another person right there, and they’ve already said to cooperate, so--

Breathe.

“Should we just drug him?” someone is saying. “Might be faster than all of this tying and blindfolding business.”

“I dunno if I can carry this much deadweight, bro.” another voice says. Still not the person holding him still. So there’s at least three of them, great. “He’s pretty big for a prince charming.”

“I can carry ‘im” says a new voice, and oh, this is the person holding him, finally. There might be just the three of them. Not that it makes much of a difference, but it’s some sort of knowledge that Ben can cling to here. “Get his hands and feet, and I can do it.”

“‘on’t enfg.” Ben manages, around the hand that’s still clamped over his mouth. “omise.”

“Gil, just let him talk,” the first voice says again. “He’s obviously not going to stop trying, so just, give him a little air.”

“‘Kay,” the holding-person (Gil, the big one is Gil) says agreeably. “Hey, I wasn’t holding you too tight, was I? You can still breathe, and stuff?”

“I can breathe,” Ben says, once he’s gotten in a good lungful of air that doesn’t taste like stale sweat. “I won’t try anything, I swear.”

“Ooh, he swore,” says the bro voice, clearly delighted with this turn of events. “I think we might need a little insurance for that, little prince.”

There’s some sort of motion, and then a noise that sounds an awful lot like a knife being sharpened, and then a bright, sharp pain in Ben’s side.

“Hey!” the first voice says, clearly annoyed at this turn of events. “You didn’t have to stab him! Uma wanted him brought back in one piece!”

“He won’t be able to run this way,” the bro says, sounding annoyed. “It’s not gonna hurt him, just make it harder to run. It’s barely a scratch.”

“He’s bleeding. You’re gonna leave evidence.” the first one, who seems to be the brains of the operation, says. “Hey, no, don’t make that noise. Shut up. Look when you did!”

Ben doesn’t want to be making this noise either. He’s just as unhappy as the ringleader is about this, really. He didn’t want to get stabbed.

“Oh my evil, just pick him up, Gil.” the first person says. “Hey, prince charming. We’ll get you stitched up once you’re down at the ship, okay? Just like, shut up about it. You’ll be in worse shape if we drop you here for someone else to find, and they won’t be so nice about keeping you alive either.”

It hurts. Jesus fucking christ, it hurts. “You stabbed me?” Ben somehow warbles, between the fucking agonized breathing he’s doing to try and get the involuntary pain noises under control. “You fucking- stabbed me?”

He’s being lifted off his feet now, and cradled up like a baby against somebody’s broad chest.

“Just a little bit.” the bro-voice says as they start moving. “Insurance, bro. Can’t have you getting away from us now, ya know?”

“I just said I wouldn’t run.” Ben points out, gritting his teeth against another jolt as the person carrying him picks up speed. “I wouldn’t’ve lied about that if I knew you were going to stab me.”

“Get over it.” the brains of the kidnapping says. “Drop him in the cart Gil, we can just wheel him down the rest of the way.”

*

They tie him to the mast.

“Can I take my phone out of my pocket first?” Ben asks, as they’re pinning him down to tie him up again, more efficiently this time. “It’s going to leave a bruise if I keep it there, and I don’t care if you want to break it or sell it or anything.”

The pirates find this absolutely hysterical.

*

They do let him take his phone out of his pocket first, so that’s something.

*

Being kidnapped is sort of boring, when it comes down to it. The pirates are clealty waiting for something, but it’s not entirely clear what. True to their word from earlier, they do let someone (a girl with messy black hair and a bright red bandanna, who doesn’t seem especially fazed by the situation as a whole) slap a bandage on him. It’s not quite as good as not being stabbed in the first place would have been, but the girl had poked around for a while and announced that he didn’t need stitches, and then done what seems on the whole to be a very tidy job of cleaning and wrapping the cut.

It still hurts, because some lunatic with a knife did in fact stab him, but after the morning Ben’s had so far, things are honestly looking up.

One of the pirates sits down next to him.

“Want some water?” they ask, holding out a battered plastic cup.

Huh. “Um, sure?” Ben says.

The pirate tips it up to his mouth, and lets him get in a good three or four swallows before pulling the cup back and throwing the rest over his head.

“Uma’s still out.” they inform him. “But we’ve sent a runner down to the chip shop, so she should be coming up any minute now.”

“Uh. Okay.” Ben says. “Is that your captain?”

The pirate looks at him. “Yeah,” they say. “She is.”

There’s some sort of challenge there, but Ben is so far out of his depth right now that he can’t even make out what the shape of it might be. “Does she have demands, or something?” he asks. “I can’t guarantee that they’ll be met, but if you send a message out to my father he’ll probably give you something in exchange.”

The pirates stares up at him, shaking their head slowly. “Unbelievable,” the pirate says, “Fuckin’ Auradon kids. Do they really keep you stupid on purpose over there?”

“No?” Ben tries. “I can try to bargain for whatever you want. There’s some privateering work off the southern isles right now, and I don’t know that they’ll take kids on their own, but we’ve been working towards isle reform policies and there’s a pretty good chance they’ll go through in a few years and--” Shut up, the lunatics who kidnapped (kingnapped?) you don’t care about legitimate privateering work and the slow, torturous process that’s been trying to push isle reforms through the council while still only controlling about 40% of the vote. “Um, that is, we can meet your demands.” Ben finishes. “If you have them.”

The kid shakes their head again. “Unbelievable.” they say again, and leave.

Okay, then.

[millllenniawrites]

Weird (Malcolm Bright x Reader)

I’ve started watching Prodigal Son and my baby Malcolm is giving me so much to write so expect many many new fics to come!! 

__ Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

—

Requested: nope

Pairing(s): Malcolm Bright x Reader

Warnings: injury and nakedness and feelings? and awkwardness. lots of that. 

—

“Why did you let him come in there with you, without a gun?” You yell at Dani, shaking your head.

“As if he has ever listened to me.” She looks at the floor, wringing her hands, “I couldn’t stop him. He was there when I showed up.” 

Malcolm took it upon himself to confront the prime suspect of a string of murders without telling anyone where he was. Dani was heading over to talk to the suspect at the same time, thankfully, or he may not have made it out alive.

You and Dani have been sitting in Malcolm’s apartment, waiting for his mother to bring him home from the hospital. 

The door squeals open and you both jump up, your hand sliding to your gun. 

You recognized Jessica’s voice and run to the door. 

He has his arm draped over her shoulders, and they are struggling to come up the stairs into the flat.

“Did you get him?” Malcolm croaks and you run down the stairs to him. 

“That’s what you’re concerned about?” You take his weight from his mother, almost carrying him up his stairs. 

Dani grabs his other side, helping you maneuver him to his bed. 

“Bedrest for 3 days for the concussion. After that, physio for the broken arm.” Jessica states. 

“You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.” You can’t stop yourself, “You could have been shot. You could be dead.” Now that you’ve seen that he’s going to be okay, it’s hard not to yell at him. 

“Did you get him?” He looks to Dani now. 

“No. We didn’t get him.” She says, her shoulders turning inwards. “I gave up my position and he ran.” 

Once Malcolm is propped up in bed, you gently grab the sides of his face and force him to look at you, “If you ever do that again, I will kill you myself. Clear?” 

“Okay, okay.” He tries to grin, but seems to wince in pain. 

“What hurts?” 

He lets out a tight laugh, “Everything.” 

“He broke his arm and a few ribs.” Jessica calls from the kitchen.

“Dumbass.” You drop your head to his collarbone. 

Dani moves to step out of the room, “We should be getting back.” 

“I’m staying.” You rest a gentle hand on Malcolm’s knee. “If you need anything, call. I can work from here.” 

“Sure. I’ll tell Gil you’re taking the rest of the day off.” 

You settle into a chair in his kitchen, making small talk with Jessica as she finished her drink and says her goodbyes to her son. 

Once you hear the door firmly close, you round on Malcolm, “Bright, your mom is weird.” 

“Dad is weirder. Promise.” You can see him smiling, and it warms your heart. 

You cross the room and sit on the end of his bed. Even covered in scrapes and bruises, he looks incredibly handsome. 

He wrinkles his nose, and you giggle, “I hate the smell of hospital.” 

That’s unsurprising, “Makes sense.” You pause, “Where do you have stitches?” 

“Just in my arm and my face.” He gestures to his elbow, covered in gauze and wrapped in a loose sling. “Why?” 

“Want to shower?” 

“I can’t get wet.”

“You can’t get your stitches wet. The rest of you isn’t a problem.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Malcolm.” 

“I would… I would need help.” He seems to flush at the idea. 

“It’s just you and I here. I can help you.” Don’t make this weird. This isn’t weird.

He grins, “Is this how you plan to get me undressed for you?” 

“God, no, I just…” Your face suddenly feels very warm and the walls seem to close in on you. 

He smiles shyly, “I’m kidding. That would actually be… uh…. Good.” 

“Okay.” Okay. We can do this. We can figure this out. 

Standing, you ask, “Where’s the bathroom?” And with his directions, leave to start the water and get a garbage bag. 

Start the water. Hot, but not too hot. No bath. Okay, we can work with this. He can use one arm right? You don’t need to... Yeah. Yeah this is fine. This can work. Why is this weird? 

You look at yourself in the mirror. This is fine. This is not weird. You’re just feeling weird because he almost died. 

After fetching a garbage bag from the kitchen and tossing it on the counter, you return to Malcolm’s bedside. 

You help him sit up and swing his legs to the side of the bed, where he states, “I can probably stand on my own.” before shooting to his feet and toppling into you. 

“Just a head rush. ‘Mm fine.” He coughs.

“Yeah, okay, Bright.” 

The two of you shuffle, linked together, to the bathroom. You reach for the bag you grabbed, open it and wrap his arm, careful not to lift his elbow too high. 

“Keep the stitches dry. Smart.” He nods at the idea. 

His praise brings a smile to your face.

“My mom did this to my ankle when I broke it in grade 3. Slightly easier, cause we had a tub, but same idea.”

You give him a hand in getting his socks and shoes off, and then stand awkwardly as he shrugs off his shirt. Shaking your head at yourself, you turn around and allow him to get into the shower. 

“Think you’ve got it?” You call over your shoulder, hearing the glass door swing shut.

He takes a moment to answer, “Probably.” 

“I’ll stay here just in case, then.” You sit on the counter. 

“No looking.” He jokes. 

Even still, you do your best to avert your eyes from the very obviously naked man in the shower 2 feet from you. 

The shampoo bottle hitting the tile floor has you jumping to your feet. 

“Sorry.” You can see Malcolm shaking his head through the steamed glass. 

“All good.” 

You move to resume your perch on the counter before he says, “Uh… I don’t think I can bend over.” 

The both of you giggling at the awkwardness of the situation seems to ease some of the tension. You take a deep inhale of the humid air as you open the shower door, leaning down to get the bottle and putting it back on the inlaid side of the wall, keeping your eyes on the ground the whole time. 

He giggles to himself and before you can ask him, you feel hot water hit the back of your neck. 

“Bright!” You stand up, backing into the shower to get out of the way of the water stream as he laughs. 

His smile and the soap suds sliding down the side of his face give him the air of a child (ignoring everything else below the neck, of course). 

“Since you’re already in here, can you help with my hair? My arms are kinda heavy.” The shy smile is back and you flush. 

“Yeah… yeah sure.” You step forward, doing your best of keep your legs out of the shower head’s range. 

He puts his head back in the stream and you reach up, rinsing his thick hair. His eyes fall closed and you watch him relax. The calm that comes across his features turns something in your chest. 

His eyes open and your lips part as you stare into them. “Clean?” 

“Think so.” You pull your eyes away from him and leave the shower, grabbing a towel for him. 

Strangely, the sight of him wrapped in a towel is almost more stirring than being in the shower with him. Now, you can look at him fully without fear. 

Yeah, this is worse. Definitely worse. 

Guiding him back to bed, you unwrap the plastic from his arm. “You okay to get dressed on your own?” 

“If you can open that drawer?” He gestures, and you lean across him to help. “Thanks.” 

“Sure.” 

You leave him to it, needing to put as much distance between yourself and this confusion. This can’t be weird. 

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter eight

Back at it again with another update cause I had to get this chapter down before it left my head. Honestly Em is a hero for giving me this idea bc I had stalled on the fic after Jessica’s escape. But because of their help I actually know a lot more than I even knew in the LAST CHAPTER much less as a whole. Loving the comments so ofc keep them coming cause i need validation.

The process of healing is frustratingly slow and Jessica finds herself lost in the cycle of sleeping, being questioned by officers, seeing Ainsley and occasionally Malcolm, and sleeping again. It’s a small comfort knowing that Malcolm, in all his determination is searching for the man behind all of this. Most of her though just wants him in the room with her, knowing he is safe.

The most frustrating, to her and investigators alike were her memories. She remembers the big picture. There was a wreck while she was traveling to a meeting for Eve’s charity. With the woman gone Jessica had preserved her legacy the best she could. The crash was unexpected. She’d checked Alphonso from the back seat already knowing he was dead. Two paramedics pulled her out of the car, put some kind of oxygen mask on her and she was out. Next came where it blurred. She was held in the dark by two men and they asked her to pick between her life or a stranger’s. No matter how many times she picked herself the other person would die. She was shot first, and then stabbed later.

She didn’t remember other conversations. Colette Swanson was the one to report to her what they found at the construction site. They found the room she was held in, two chairs bolted to the floor facing each other. They found the trail of blood where she had escaped. They found a young man matching the surveillance footage of the paramedic they’d found the day of the wreck. He was beaten to death, likely by his partner though the FBI agent didn’t expand on why.

She’s not shocked. Part of her knew this already.

What tears at her was they found no trace of the other killer nor Freddy in the vicinity. Gil tells her that no trace of blood should be a good thing.

It doesn’t feel like a good thing.

“Ms. Whitly.” She picks her head up from the spot she was staring at, smiling kindly at the doctor.

“Dr. Garcia, I hope you’re not planning to wheel me back for another surgery. Ainsley is getting off soon and she’s bringing Vionelli’s.” The surgeon chuckles warmly shaking her head. In the week she’s been stuck in the hospital Dr. Garcia had been a welcoming bright spot in her boring or traumatizing days. The day she chased away an officer who was getting a little too aggressive while questioning and insisting that she remembered. Waving a clipboard and getting in the face of an armed man, it was a sight that made her laugh no matter how much it hurt her side.

“Actually, I wanted to be the one to tell you that it’s looking like you could go home today.”

“Today?” She sits up a little, newfound energy overpowering the shot of pain that goes through her side at the movement.

“Your infection has cleared up and all of your baselines came through clear. Now you’ll come back in a week to remove the stitches and I want you taking it easy when walking. We’re going to send you home in a wheelchair.” Jessica must have made a face because the doctor gets serious, “I expect you to use it Ms. Whitly. Your physical therapy will be easier if you don’t push yourself too much. No alcohol or other supplements until you finish out your medication.” Jessica hesitates but nods. Anything that can get her past this as soon as possible she’ll agree to. “Well, in that case you might want to tell your daughter to bring a loose set of clothes and I’ll tell the nurses to get the paperwork drawn up.”

“Dr. Garcia?” Her question evades her as soon as she asks. Past conversations echo instead, The knife was two centimeters from nicking the femoral artery. The gunshot wound had been infected, but we caught it early. Your memory will return in time, it’s expected with the combination of anesthesia and your head injury. Yet, not once had the woman made the claim other doctors had. The one that she told herself, you got lucky. “Thank you.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After the text it’s Ainsley, Malcolm, and Gil who come to escort her home. It feels like a bittersweet celebration. None of them will let her stay alone, despite her protests and the 3 details they set up along the house. All help is dismissed until further notice, and her home has already been searched five times for any possible cameras or bugs hidden. Gil tried to insist her stay with her but couldn’t fight more when she pointed out that she’d get around easier in her own home than his small apartment.

They celebrate with Vionelli’s, as promised, and sitting at her own table with her family surrounding her almost feels normal. She longs for a drink but her children made sure that all alcohol was removed from the home the second they were told she could come home. For a few split seconds she allows herself to believe this is a normal day. That she doesn’t ache all over, that there aren't several patrols outside guarding each exit of her home, that she doesn’t have the details of 3 days blurred as if she’d taken a few too many pills.

Despite her protests the three of them create a system. Malcolm will stay with her tonight, Gil’s insistence as he hadn’t slept much in 3 days. Gil will switch him tomorrow, Ainsley after that. Even though she tried to deny their pushes, she’s secretly glad to have one of them with her. At least she can be assured one of them is safe at all times. 

Much to her dread, Gil and Ainsley eventually leave. They linger longer than they should. None of them really tired enough to stave off their personal demons from the night. Gil gives in when Colette calls, Ainsley long after he is gone but her own detail looks tired and she shouldn’t probably get home.

Jessica makes her way back to her own bedroom. The clothes Ainsley brought are comfortable enough that she can just slide right into bed. Her medicine is slowly dragging her under and she’s grateful for the peace that the familiar setting brings.

“Goodnight mom,” Malcolm smiles at her, the expression not quite matching the worry in his eyes.

“Love you Sunshine.” She says as gently as she can, inordinately calm against the threat of sleep. Her nightmares are no stranger to her. The nickname helps as she watches him relax, even if only slightly.

“Love you too.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jessica wakes again with a gasp sitting up in bed, the pain that echoes through her abdomen making her regret the movement. The nightmare already faded from her as she settles back hissing through her teeth. She squints at her phone laying on her nightstand.

4:26 A.M.

She huffs covering her eyes. She can feel the beginnings of her medicine wearing off. She’s surprised Malcolm hadn’t woken her simply to take some. She peers through the dark spying her son curled in the chair in the corner of her room. He must have fallen asleep there after working on the case for most of the night.

Her chest aches remembering how after Martin she’d find him sleeping almost anywhere but his bed. That chair, specifically, was his favorite place to curl up. A flashlight and book lying abandoned on the floor by his feet.

She experimentally sits up again, slower this time. The pain is much more manageable in the slow, precise movements. As her eyes adjust to the dark she sees a cup sitting on her nightstand along with the bottles of medicine she’s supposed to take. Lying by the glass is a small card, a note hastily written.

Just as you like.

Her chest warms looking over at Malcolm again. The glass is still hot, he couldn’t have prepared it long ago. She tusks but slides the note in her drawer, standing. She suppresses the groan at the ache in her leg, not wanting to wake him when he’d clearly just managed to fall asleep. She grabs the spare blanket draped across the bottom of her bed and covers him. Even in his sleep he looks like he carries the whole world on his shoulders. Grabbing her tea and medicine she exits her bedroom.

She’s not sure exactly where she intended on going. The restlessness is enough to make her wander through the home on a good night. This, this is something else. A sense of dread that can’t seem to leave her chest.

She takes a sip of the tea enjoying the warmth that spreads across her. Her peace is only momentary though.

The tea doesn’t taste like what she drinks.

The taste brings her back twenty years. To Christmas morning with two children bouncing onto her bed excitedly screaming about Santa. To a golden tray loaded up with her favorites. To breakfast in bed. To the tea Martin had prepared for her.

Malcolm didn’t make this.

Panic fills her as she pushes herself through the home, steadying herself on the walls. She bursts into the dining room, looking for the bar cart.

She hears Malcolm screaming in her head.

Don’t drop the cup, it could be evidence.

She needs a drink

You’re not supposed to drink on your medication.

She doesn’t care. Not when she can’t get the taste out of her mouth.

Mother!

The cart is empty. Of course it is. Ainsley herself cleared it out. She has a stash in the kitchen. One she hadn’t touched since Malcolm’s months of silence. One only she knew about.

She grits her teeth using the table as a brace as her leg screams against the rush. She can’t think. Not when the memories are too loud. The good times taste like poison under his gaze, his touch.

She flicks on the light stopping dead in her path at the sight of a figure seated at the island, facing her. The glass slips from her hands spilling across the tile and scattering shards everywhere.

Freddy stares emptily at her. His skin is all too pale. A sharp cut against his throat and blood spilled all over his clothes. They’re the same clothes he’d been wearing when she saw him last. The eyes that had been so kind to her are frozen in choking horror. He probably couldn’t even scream.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shattering glass startles Malcolm awake. He's up and aware in a matter of seconds. The bed his mother had fallen asleep in is empty, the medicine he’d left on her nightstand is gone too. He tries to rationalize with himself. She likely woke from a nightmare. Went to look for a drink. He doesn’t need to jump to conclusions.

Her scream sends ice through his veins. He’s taking off after that, ignoring the soreness in his joints from the position he’d slept in.

He never should have let himself fall asleep.

He was supposed to be guarding her.

Now she’s-

“Mom!” He calls out to her. Her screams seem to echo off the walls. He suddenly feels too small, a child searching helplessly for his mother in a crowd of ghosts. “Mom!” He’s closer. She’s still screaming.

He rounds the kitchen to a sight that turns his stomach. His investigative sense tells him to preserve the scene, call 911. But his mother is backed up against the wall, eyes glued to the body meant just for her. He doesn’t give a damn about the glass the cuts his feet to get to her. He lifts her by the elbows pulling her back into the dining room.

“Freddy. It’s Freddy.” She sobs before collapsing on his shoulder.

In that moment, Malcolm freezes. Twenty years, not once did she cry for Martin. Not once did she cry for her family that had been burned up and destroyed. She didn’t cry when he moved away, not when he woke up after being taken by the Junkyard Killer, not when Ainsley confessed to her that she killed Endicott. But she’s clinging to him like her life depends on it, and she’s crying.

All he can do is hold onto her and text Gil.

[autistic-stedebonnet]

A modern version of the ridge pole scene, but I got carried away

Avonlea springs were perfect in Anne’s eyes. Especially the oddly sunny days after a rainstorm, when the ground was damp and wildflowers were abundant. Today was one of those days, and Anne should’ve been tucked in a corner of the forest, her sleeves pulled up to her elbows and her usual jeans swapped for a flouncy skirt or brightly colored shorts.

But instead, she was sitting in the middle of a (thankfully, outdoor) roller rink for Jane Andrew’s 16th birthday party. Anne loved skating, and thought herself quite good at it. But she preferred to do it alone, and not in the company of Josie Pye. Despite being able to spend a whole day outside, Anne was just near the depths of despair over having to be civil towards Josie for a whole 3 hours.

At that moment, the teenagers were gathered at the picnic table, indulging in snacks and an entertaining game of truth or dare. Jane was returning from a failed attempt at skating a lap on one foot, when Josie Pye was dared by Moody to skate a few feet on the rim around the rink.

“Please,” Josie scoffed. “That’s the easiest thing ever.”

And much to Anne’s chagrin, the blonde devil completed the dare with relative ease.

Anne let out a mocking laugh upon Josie’s return. “That was nothing,” she said. “I once knew a girl who could skate the entire rim of a roller rink...” she paused for dramatic effect, “backwards.”

Both Diana and Gilbert stiffened as Josie’s bewildered expression turned into a sly smirk. “Alright then,” she hissed. “Do it.”

Anne’s eyes doubled in size and her freckled skin paled. “What.”

“Do. It,” Josie repeated, with an added air of malice.

Anne stood up steadily and narrowed her eyes at Josie. “Fine, I will.”

“Anne! You don’t have to!” Diana cried, leaping up and grasping her friend’s arm. “If you fall, it’s at least 4 feet down, you could really hurt yourself!”

“It’s a pretty wide space to work with, I’ll be fine.”

At that moment, Gilbert eased his way into the intervention. “Yes, but you won’t be able to see where you’re going.”

Anne shot daggers at the boy, his insistence only fueling the fire that was her pride. With a final huff, Anne glided over to the rink and stepped up to the rim tediously. It took her a moment to find her balance, but she hadn’t fallen.

Meanwhile, Diana was in a horrible state, already imagining her best friend in a bloody heap on the concrete. Josie Pye was stiff and pale. She hadn’t expected Anne to actually take the dare, and she was terribly afraid of the reputation she’d gain from being the cause of Anne Shirley breaking her neck.

Anne turned to face the group, keeping eye contact with a worried Gilbert. Halfway across, she stuck out her tongue and grinned. And then she stumbled. There had been a mere pebble that got caught in her wheel, but it was enough to send her barreling over the side and into a bush.

Diana shrieked as if she’d just been shot and skated over to her friend as fast as humanly possible. “Anne!” She cried out in dismay.

Lucky for Anne, she’d avoided a most horrible fate, by landing in a bush, but she still hadn’t moved. Her fiery hair enveloped her sheet white, unconscious face, and her ankle lay at a terribly worrying angle.

“Anne! Are you alright!? Are you dead?!” Afraid to shake the girl, Diana simply swept the hair from her eyes and caressed her freckled face. “Oh Anne, please don’t be dead!”

Unbeknownst to a distraught Diana, Gilbert was shoving past a huddle of children to reach Anne, his face white with shock and his entire body shaking.

Diana moved away, her mind just clear enough to recall Gilbert’s brief medical training. “Gilbert, please say she’s not dead!”

Gilbert pressed his hands to Anne’s neck, and then her wrist, breathing a shaky sigh of relief upon feeling her steady pulse. He felt her scalp for any injury, finding none. “She seems to have gone unconscious from shock,” he relayed. “But I don’t think she’s hit her head.” His eyes darted to Anne’s ankle and he winced. “She does seem to have broken her ankle,” he added. “But if an ambulance is called and we don’t jostle her, she should be fine.” He closed his eyes, blinking away tears he hadn’t realized had begun. Anne was okay. She was okay.

“Oh!” Diana yelled, startling the eerily silent crowd. “Someone needs to call the Cuthberts.” She reached into her skirt pocket, fumbling around for her phone and cursing her sweaty palms.

Once the information was given to a very frantic Marilla, and an ambulance called, the children were picked up by their respective guardians and taken home.

*

Anne regarded it as a downright tragedy that she’d be bedridden for the majority of and most glorious part of spring. She spent countless hours lamenting over all the wildflowers and rainstorms and breathtaking sunsets she’d miss whilst cooped up in her gable room. Despite Diana’s constant visits(and facetimes, and baked goods) she simply couldn’t bring herself to enjoy her time. I mean honestly, there’s only so many days one can spend doing nothing but reading and scrolling through tumblr.

Her horrific boredom however, was not even the biggest of her problems. She couldn’t bear the thought of Gilbert Blythe stealing her hard-earned spot as top of the 10th grade. The utter humiliation would fuel her rage for weeks to come. But she tried not to focus on that possibility, instead pouring all of her energy into assignments her teachers had emailed her and occasionally craning her neck towards the window in hopes of seeing how many flowers had grown recently.

When, 4 weeks later, Anne was able to return to school (on crutches), there was only a month left until summer break, but nonetheless, she was determined to leave that year with the prize of top student. Not that they handed out prizes, but the mere knowing that she’d beat Gilbert was enough for her.

Anne did the closet thing to leaping she was capable of to get out of bed, already having laid out her clothes the night before.

She relished the feeling of simply being able to sit at her mirror and pull her auburn locks into twin braids. She let her gaze fall onto a mass of purple lilacs, almost hiding beneath the plethora of cards and flowers on her desk, and her breath caught. She loved lilacs, more than anything. But she didn’t recall being brought them. What she did know however, is that purple lilacs symbolize ‘first love.�� She shook the ridiculous thought from her mind. Lilacs are a beautiful flower and whoever brought them was just being kind, she reminded herself. The meaning of flowers is not common knowledge.

“Marilla?” Anne sang as she precariously made her way down the steps.

Marillas face went deathly pale upon seeing Anne. “For heavens sake child!” She cried. “What are you doing? I told you to wait for Matthew to come and help you down the stairs!”

Anne scowled as Marilla placed a frantic arm around her back and assisted her down the staircase. “I’m not completely incapable, Marilla.” She muttered.

“Yes, but you have a broken ankle.” Marilla pursed her lips and pulled a chair out for Anne. “I’m still convinced that you should just do work from home for the remainder of the year.”

“And let Gil- everyone else get ahead of me?!”

“I thought you and Gilbert were friends now?”

Anne shrugged and sunk down further into her seat, grumbling a response. “I suppose we’re friendly. But that does not dissuade me from beating him... fair and square of course.”

The two sat in silence, two soon becoming three upon being joined by Matthew.

Anne was the one to finally break the quiet. She had come to absolutely despise the lack of noise after being stuck in her bed for 3 weeks. “Who left the lilacs?” She questioned. “I’m sure they weren’t there yesterday. But I’ve been brought so many flowers, I could’ve missed them.” She looked up at Marilla expectantly.

“Gilbert brought those by yesterday morning.” She replied, as if she hadn’t just delivered the most ground breaking news ever. “You were asleep, so I brought them up to your room.”

At this, Anne almost choked on her toast. “Gil-Gilbert?!” She cried. “Gilbert Blythe brought me purple lilacs?”

Marilla raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I don’t see what’s gotten you so worked up. All of your other friends brought you flowers.”

Anne’s eyes were still wider than the plate clutched in her whitening hands. Her face resembled a sheet of paper and her mouth hung open, as if she expected the words to just fall off of her tongue. “Gilbert,” she finally squeaked. “Gilbert Blythe brought me purple lilacs.”

“For goodness sake child,” Marilla sighed. “Do calm yourself. Hurry and finish your breakfast so Matthew can drive you to school. I won’t have you walking all that way in such a state.”

Anne however, did not finish her breakfast. Nor did she utter a word until she arrived in her English classroom.

“Diana, I think I am going to quite literally die on the spot,” Anne groaned, dropping her head into her arms.

“Why is that?”

“Gilbert Blythe brought me purple lilacs!” Anne spat, her tone making it seem like Diana should know the importance of purple lilacs.

“And...”

“And do you know what purple lilacs symbolize?”

“No.” Diana paused, expecting Anne to explain why she was so devastated over some flowers. Gaining no response, she encouraged the disheartened redhead. “Care to tell me?”

This earned her a terribly theatric sigh. “I couldn’t bear the humiliation. Google it.”

One google search and a whole lot of squealing-on Diana’s part-later, Gilbert Blythe walked into the classroom, seemingly oblivious to Diana’s smirking.

“Morning Gilbert!” Diana chirped. She gave an all too obvious point to a pouting Anne and grinned at Gilbert’s flushed cheeks.

“I-um, morning Diana, Anne.”

If it were even possible, Anne’s head seemed to sink farther into her folded arms, until all that was visible was less than an inch of her scarlet hair.

Diana waited impatiently for Gilbert to take his seat, before turning and whispering to Anne, “Anne, please say you’ll admit your feelings now.”

A muffled “no” escaped Anne’s tiny hideout.

Diana opened her mouth to give well-meaning, but harsh and probably embarrassing advice, but Ms. Stacy spoke first.

“Because of the many up-coming exams, we’re going to take a bit of a break today.” She paused and waited for the cheering to end. “But don’t think that means we won’t be hitting the books tomorrow. I just mean to let you all have a breather.” She clapped her hands together excitedly and pulled a stack of paper and a large jar of flowers from her desk.

Anne, who had lifted her head just enough to see her teacher’s face, went white. She didn’t even dare look over at Gilbert, but Diana’s stifled snickering told her that he was probably just as pale as herself.

“Diana.” Anne hissed once Ms. Stacy had finished a explaining the activity. “I don’t know how, but you did this.”

Diana simply smiled innocently and prompted Anne to read her poem.

“Of course.”

She’d been given a poem that was simply titled “Love”, and below it, written in Ms. Stacy’s neat and concise script: ‘First love’

Diana glanced over at her friend, and was surprised to see that she’d grown even paler. “What’s wrong? What’s your flower meaning? It should be at the bottom of the-“ She cut herself off with a sharp breath. “Oh. Oh! Anne this is so romantic!”

Anne shook her head vigorously. “It is not!” She protested. “And besides, he probably just has a daisy or something stupid like that.”

“So you admit that you considered the possibility that Gilbert might be standing on the other side of the room holding, once again, a purple lilac.”

“I did not consider it, not even once,” Anne huffed. She twirled a delicate daffodil between her thumb and forefinger and hummed lightly. “Now to find someone with a poem about ‘regard and unequalled love.’ Just peachy.”

“Of course you already know what a daffodil means.” Diana rolled her eyes and skipped away, leaving Anne to avoid Gilbert all alone.

Anne shuffled along the edges of the cramped classroom, doing the closest thing she could to turning on her injured heel anytime a certain boy made to approach her. She ignored the pounding in her heart upon seeing him clutching a thin branch sprouting dozens of delicate, lavender-hued blooms. She pushed away the tiny voice in the back of her head that told her that even if he didn’t know yesterday, he certainly knew now, what a stupid purple lilac meant. And most of all, she refused to meet his adoring, slightly pained gaze.

“Anne-“

“Uh-I think Diana needs me.” Anne limped away at an alarmingly fast speed, her heart begging to simply fly from her tightening chest.

“Anne, Diana’s in the bathroom.”

Anne winced and cursed under her breath, before clumsily turning around. “Fine, what is it?”

Gilbert looked almost hurt, but he seemed to shake off the feeling quick enough. “I just wanted to see your poem, I haven’t found one that matches my...” he pointed at the flowers in his hand and Anne nodded curtly.

“Ok.” She all but shoved the scrap of paper into his face, before dipping her head down, her eyes boring into the cheap carpet.

It seemed like several, agony-filled hours before Gilbert cleared his throat hesitantly. Anne’s gaze stayed fixated on her shabby boots, a lump rising in her throat.

“I-uh... here.”

Anne looked up to see him holding out the flowers, his hand just barely clinging onto them.

She stayed frozen, her eyes flashing up and down from the flowers to his eyes that made her stomach flip. His expression was so very hopeful and pained, it seemed that he was reaching for something he knew he’d never find. But there was something else, something else that had been there for years but Anne had been too stubborn to see it.

Just as suddenly as her thoughts had drifted off, they came back to reality. Anne jerked her head to the side momentarily, before adjusting her crutches in a futile attempt to take the flowers from Gilbert’s hands.

Realizing her struggle, Gilbert set the blooms on her desk. “Can i see your, um, your flower?”

Anne was seconds away from unknowingly crushing the yellow petals when he said this. “I, I doubt that-“

“Can I just-“

“Fine, just, take it.” Anne thrust her hand out towards Gilbert, her breath hitching in panic upon seeing the worry flit over his hazel eyes.

“Anne, you, you’ve been digging your nails into your palm,” he breathed.

Anne tore her hand from his tender grasp, hardly even realizing that he was twirling the daffodil between his calloused fingers.

“Just a bad habit,” she muttered, still determined not to meet his gaze.

“Right, well-“

“Anne, Gilbert, please sit down, everyone’s found their flowers already.”

Anne and Gilbert’s heads shot up in unison, their eyes guiltily meeting those of a thoroughly amused Ms.Stacy.

“I do believe we have enough time to recite our poems then,” she declared.

Oh no. Oh this was the worst of it all. This, this was an utter catastrophe. Anne settled into her seat, her pale cheeks burning very uncooperatively. And why, oh why on Earth was Gilbert staring at her as he spoke? Why was his gaze so unbelievably affectionate?

As he spoke, so much more eloquently than he ever had, Anne came to the same realization she had a week ago. The same realization that had caused her to call Diana sobbing and continue to do so for what felt like hours. A realization that was so powerful, so so painfully obvious, that it scared her.

It scared her 13 year old self, who was cold to one of the few people who didn’t judge her harshly, simply because she was desperate for friends.

It scared her 15 year old self, who’d warily accepted a true, real friendship, despite the voice in her head and the fluttering in her stomach.

It terrified her, because she didn’t know what to do with it. For her entire life, she’d convinced herself that she wasn’t worthy of love, especially not that kind. It had been difficult to accept that even Diana loved her, but this was something entirely new. This was like a thrashing, rolling wave, that had been chasing after her for years and had finally toppled downwards and stolen her from what she’d come to know and accept.

So, Anne did what Anne always did when she was scared. She ran. Well, metaphorically, considering her ankle. And no, she didn’t just leave the classroom, she was smart enough not to risk Marilla’s wrath. More, she waited for the moment when Ms. Stacy released her five minutes early and was out the door as fast as possible.

She managed to scrape through the day without a conversation with Gilbert, however arduous and shockingly painful it was.

And of course, right before she could step inside her house and let out a huge sigh of relief, she heard those dreaded footsteps behind her. She really hated that she knew it was him before even turning around.

“Gilbert, I’m not in the mood,” she snapped, her back still facing him. She could hear Gilbert take a shaky breath and for a moment, she almost felt bad.

“I-I know,” he said. “I just didn’t want to... not explain myself.”

“What explaining do you have to do?” Anne was facing him now, hoping he couldn’t see the panic behind her raging eyes.

“I, um, the flowers.”

“Flowers. Right.” She nodded curtly. “It was nice of you, I should’ve thanked you at school. Is that all?”

Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows and gaped at her slightly. “I- no, no it’s not all, Anne what did I do?” The last part was choked and soft, and Anne almost felt bad.

She caved.

“You didn’t do anything, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, I shouldn’t have been so rude- can we sit?”

He nodded and helped her up the wooden porch steps. They settled onto the cramped bench, knees and elbows brushing inconveniently.

“Are you alright?”

She hated how sincere, how worried he sounded. And she hated that this wasn’t new, that this was always how he spoke to her. Sincere, genuine, caring. Why was this so difficult?

Anne shut her eyes momentarily, gathering her thoughts and her courage, before speaking.

“In books, characters always know,” she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. “They don’t have to battle the voices in their head or the anxiety in their stomach. They always know what to say, and how, when to say it.”

“Books aren’t real life.”

“I know that, I do, but I wish that it was easier to say this.”

“Easier to say...what?” His tone told her that he already knew, he just wanted to hear it.

She wiped at the tears pricking the corners of her stormy eyes. “Easier to say everything, really. In books, in my imagination as well, everyone knows their heart and is able to bear it with seemingly no trouble.”

“Anne...”

“Please, let me finish.”

He nodded and went quiet.

“They don’t have to... they don’t have to worry that the other person will be...disgusted. But, but I’m not-“ she cut herself off, her words caught in her throat. “I’m not a book character, and this isn’t easy. I’m just... I’m just Anne. I’m not pretty, or well dressed, or interesting. The only thing I have is my smarts and my imagination, and I cling to that. I suppose it’s difficult to accept the possibility of there being more for me. Things I always told myself, and was always told I’d never have.” Her last few words were almost lost to the wind, just barely tumbling out before she collapsed into a heap of sobs.

Gilbert pulled her towards him, letting her bury her head in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, grounding her.

When she pulled away, breath evened and face red and splotchy, he took a chance.

He reached out and brushed his hand against her cheek gently, as if afraid it would shatter beneath his touch. “Anne,” he whispered. “You are the most beautiful-“

She scoffed.

“Really,” Gilbert continued. “You are so incredibly stunning, but that’s only one of the many reasons I’m so drawn to you. You’re so smart and creative, and incredibly compassionate. You always stand up for what you believe in and never back down, which is very admirable of you.”

Their faces were mere inches apart now, but there was still a wall between them. No longer the brick wall it was many years ago, or bulletproof glass from a month ago. It was a sheet of stained glass, so broken, so fragmented, that it would shatter with one small nudge.

“Anne, I love you, because you are you, and I would not have you any other way.”

That was the nudge. Anne’s walls fell down and revealed a vulnerability she didn’t even know she had. “You-you love me?”

“Of course, how could I not?”

Her bottom lip quivered slightly. “I- I never dreamed that someone would, could love me in that way.” She gazed up into his hazel eyes, trying desperately to capture every emotion, every meaning behind them.

The wall was gone, for the first time ever, there was nothing stopping them.

As equals, they moved to close the gap between them. There was a split-second of fear, but that melted away like sunlight dripping onto flower petals doused in morning dew. It seemed cheesy to say, but it was as if this was destiny, as if some part of something had been predetermined, and this was meant to be.

Anne had always dreamt of first kisses. She never thought hers would happen with her eyes still stinging from tears, her ankle broken, sitting on the Green Gables porch, and with Gilbert Blythe. But you could ask her many years from now, and she would attest to the fact that she wouldn’t have it any other way.