#He did die + the kingdom got wiped out by DE

[cookieofearthbread]

One thing I find really interesting is that Smoked Cheese is the only person to fight in the Colosseum (since he broke a law) and still became a advisor to Golden Cheese Cookie.

[plounce]

ryne as the personification of the first

emet-selch goes on about how the source is the only shard that really matters, that the other shards are dimmer and of less value, that the shards are meant to be sacrificed for the sake of being rejoined to the source, blah blah blah (with the source and its current peoples eventually being de facto sacrificed to bring the ancient world back to an unsundered state) (all of this to foil hydaelyn, whose major aetherial aspect is light)

ryne is one in a century-long line of little girls who were valued only for their ability to channel the source's minfilia, being subsumed by her soul and then dying horribly in a neverending war against the light. minfilia explicitly compares herself to an ascian when explaining the situation to thancred (one of the most underrated bonkers lines in shb, imo)! the sacrifice of one person's individuality is worth the contribution to the larger crusade... but also because those with more power in the situation want the person THEY loved to return to them (see also: gaia).

but despite being told she's weak and would be better off giving in to her fate (either directly by ran'jit, or indirectly via neglect by thancred's bad parenting), ryne values the free, colorful, unique life she has lived and the love she has created with the people around her. even though all of it is difficult! even if it hurts! even if she has to struggle against sin eaters, even if she is pursued by an entire nation-state, even if her guardian hadn't gotten to the end of his character arc yet! it sucks, but she isn't going to go gently into that good light, even if it would be the more "practical" and "effective" path to take (see: the ancients summoning zodiark). she struggles forward, because she wants to keep living and keep struggling and keep growing. she started out never knowing a room beyond her cell, barely knowing anything except that she was doomed. but she worked and she learned and she struggled and in the end she chose to survive. ryne chooses to fight for her own right to live.

the first already had their apocalypse. 90% of the entire planet was destroyed. they are confined by giant walls of light. light is the aspect of stagnancy. eulmore has given up - to quote gaia, the past and future don't matter, it's only the present. giant monsters ravage the countryside! you have to watch your loved ones mutate into those monsters before your eyes, and often have to put them down yourself! the old world and its nation-states have been wiped away, leaving often fragmented and murky histories behind. the ecology got all fucked up, and i can't imagine the world being euled by stagnation is great for the birthrate. it's bleak as hell! but people keep living and adapting. we arrive on a first that has created new cultures and communities. it is not by clinging to the past and trying to restore the kingdoms of voeburt and nabaath araeng that the first survived: the first survived because it journeyed on into the future. "where one world ends does a new begin", etc

the exarch brought the scions to the first for a reason. only by saving the first can we save the source. but that isn't the only reason we fight to help the first, and honestly not even the primary reason: we help the first because we meet the people there and we care about them (see: the 5.3 dungeon, with all the npcs we met coming to help us). we help ryne not because we want access to her powers: we help her because she is a vulnerable child who needs our help. if ryne did not choose to live, if she chose to die to give us access to full oracle powers, shadowbringers would have veered into a gutting pyrrhic victory rather than the bittersweet one that it already is. ryne is the future. live for the future, even if it doesn't seem as "good" as what you idealize the past as, and struggle onward.

thancred gets to live past his fight with ran'jit because he has to welcome ryne back and tell her he loves her and that he's glad she's herself. that's his character arc. that's the narrative. he defeats the poison of nostalgia, he and ryne both live and get the chance to improve their relationship, and they work together to defeat the ultimate nostalgia-driven, grief-ruled monster, emet-selch.

(side note: fascism as an ideology is hugely driven by the belief that society should "return" to its "purest" "best" form. emet-selch invented fascism in garlemald. he uses a lot of fascist rhetoric to justify his actions. ffxiv's insistence that you must move past nostalgia and move on into the future goes hand in hand with its antifascist themes)

and in the end, ryne has to stay on the first while her family has to leave her. it's a bittersweet end to her coming of age story, but she uses the tools giving to her by her predecessors and loved ones to fight for her and her loved ones' futures (see: end of eden). it will be hard for her moving forward, but she has already conquered the excruciatingly struggle of choosing to want to live when it seemed like the whole world was telling her she's better off doomed. it'll be sad, and it'll be hard, but she'll be okay.

[hotpotrandomfics]

Future AU: A Promise Never Broken

Summary: Merula, Penny, Rowan, and Tulip have been on the run for weeks as they have been chased by Death Eaters. The former classmates would have been killed hadn’t someone came to their rescues.

Word Count: 2,907

"Come on, this way Penny!" Merula shouted, running and casting spells behind her as the Death Eaters chased her and her friends. "Rowan! Tulip! Come on!"

Three friends ran past Merula, covering her from behind, after making it into the abandoned house behind them. They shut the door and barracked it before looking for a way to get out.

"This has got to be the worst day ever!" Rowan said panting and wiping the sweat off his glasses. "What are gonna do now? I don't see any exits, and that door won't hold them back!"

"Khanna, shut up and let me think for a second," Merula replied.

"Look, I have at least one dung bomb left. We use Lumos to blind them last minute then make a break for it," Tulip responded.

"I have two more fire-breathing potions, and one wiggleweed potion left. I could use one on them before escaping too," Penny offered her idea to them.

"Okay, then let's go with that. Penny, drink up. Tulip, prep the bomb, and Rowan, have your wand ready," Merula replied prepping her wand.

Ever since Voldemort's resurrection, the wizarding world has been thrown into chaos. Dark wizards and many other creatures had joined his cause, whether out of pure loyalty or fear. Even the one they thought would never be corrupted, Jason Piscius Aurelius De Leone. Jason had been gone for months after being recruited by his brother, Jacob, and has been one of Voldemort's topmen in assassinations. Ismelda. Barnaby. Tonks. Andre. Ben. Jae. Diego. Liz. All killed by Jason. Merula was the most heartbroken out of all his friends. Over the years, they had been enemies turned friends, to lovers. The biggest betrayal she had ever felt in her life, was by the one she loved the most.

"It's still so hard to believe this though, Jason," Rowan muttered. "How are we going to fight this? Fight him?"

Merula stomped over to Rowan gripping him by his collar, tears creeping down her cheeks. She had bags under her eyes, revealing her lack of sleep for the past few days. Tulip and Penny tried to pry her off him as he squirmed.

"We have no choice, dammit! He betrayed us!" Merula shouted angrily. "I don't want to fight him, but our lives and the information we got from those bastards will help save at least the wizarding world!"

"Snyde, enough! Let him go!" Tulip said pulling at him. "We don't have time for this!"

"Merula, stop! Please!" Penny asked pleading her to let Rowan go.

She obliged her friends and let Rowan go. She was stressed by the emotional turmoil she was facing. Everyone was, and they needed to focus or be killed by their once friend.

There were murmurs outside and then complete silence.

BOOM

"Well well," one death eater said as he walked in smirking at the group of young wizards. "Four little wizards. Make your choice now. Join the Dark Lord or die?"

"Interesting, here's our counter-offer," Tulip replied throwing her dung bomb at the Death Eaters disorienting them temporarily. "Penny, now!"

On cue, Penny spewed fire on the Death Eaters, setting two ablaze and causing the others to jump out of the way. Merula and Rowan cast Lumos to blind the other Death Eaters before all four of them ran out of the building, following through the alleys till they met a dead end.

"Dammit! What now?" Merula spouted.

"End of the road, little Snyde and friends," said an all too familiar voice. Fenrir Greyback in his werewolf form followed by a group of Death Eaters. "Try as you might, you will fail as you did in Hogwarts."

Fenrir had caused many grievances for Merula. He turned Jason into a werewolf when they searched for the vaults during their time at Hogwarts. It was under him that Jason served, as well as Jacob.

"Time for payback you, you little twit!", as one of the Greybacks, Death Eaters cast Petrificus Totalus, binding all four of the weary wizards.

"It must be horrifying knowing you failed in protecting your friends and knowing the ones you couldn't save were by the one who loved you the most. Ah, I was surprised how far Jason would go to show his loyalty to the Dark Lord. But alas, I will be the one to kill you all."

Merula couldn't stop the tears from rolling down her face now. Was this how she'd die? Is this how her friends will die? All because of Jason, the man she grew to love through the years, corrupted to serve Voldemort.

Just as Greyback was raising his claws to kill Merula, a shout of a few voices came from nowhere.

"Incendio,"  shouted a large man setting one Death Eater ablaze.

"Bombarda," shouted two feminine voices sending half of the enemy into a wall.

"What is going on?!" shouted Greyback.

"A rescue. Configro," said a man, landing between Greyback and Merula. A man in a black coat. "Diego, free them!"

"On it Aurelius," said Diego as he cast Finite Incantium, freeing the four paralyzed wizards.

"Jason?!" shouted Rowan as he stood up surprised.

"Hey amigo, we can talk later," said the man, turning to look back on them. "I'll take a slap from you later il mio amore," Jason said as he winked at Merula.

"Get them Bean!," said Barnaby flying down on the back of griffin as it grabbed a Death Eater and tossed him over the roofs of a nearby building.

"Hey guys, sorry we're late," said Ismelda appearing behind a few Death Eaters and stunning them. "Baubillious!"

One by one, the Death Eaters were taken down, and with them, all of Merula friends appeared. Ismelda. Barnaby. Tonks. Andre. Ben. Jae. Diego. Liz. Even the Weasleys, Bill, and Charlie accompanied by a baby dragon that was setting some Death Eaters rear ablaze. Badeea had caused a few to be trapped in a small sketchbook. She couldn't believe the sight as their pursuers were being beaten while Jason was busy handling Greyback.

"Get clear guys," as Jason raised his wand. "Auguamenti!" sending a stream of water through the alley, chucking Greyback and his Death Eaters down. "Charlie! Where is the big guy?!"

As if on cue a large dragon flew down and grabbed Tulip, Rowan, and Penny. Charlie and Bill jumped on the dragon as the beast flew off with them. Ismelda flew off on her broom, along with Diego and Badeea. Barnaby and Liz flew away on Bean the griffin. Jason grabbed Merula before casting Baubillious on the drenched Death Eaters, knocking them all out.

"Let's go," Jason said as he flew off on his broom holding Merula in his arms.

"Aurelius, you better explain now, or I'll throw you off your broom!" she shouted as they soared behind their friends.

"Well, I would appreciate a thank you or a kiss but I know I'm in the doghouse," he said laughing softly. "I will explain everything once we get to the hideout, I promise."

"You better or I am casting the killing curse on you," she stated holding tightly to him to prevent falling off.

The gang had flown for what felt like hours till they landed in the garden of the estate that appeared to look abandoned. They fell as everyone jumped off their essential mode of transportation.

"Jason!" said Rowan and Penny as they ran at him ready to hug him but stopped midway as Merula slapped him.

"Why?!" she shouted angrily. "Why go and join Voldemort? How is everyone alive?!" she kept shouting as she repeatedly slapped him harder and harder.

He gestured for everyone to stay back as she kept hitting. Jason pulled her close as she began to sob and tried to fight out of his embrace. He gently stroked her hair as she wept into him.

"I'm sorry," he stated, "I was given orders by the Ministry and worked with Professor Snape to uncover some plans and hidden locations for Voldemort's top subordinates. But to win their trust, I had to act as an assassin."

"Orders?" she looked at him stunned. "You did all this stop Voldemort?"

"Yes, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you Merula. I did all I could to protect you and everyone," he said wiping her tears from her eyes. "I wouldn't betray them, and I wouldn't betray you. I said I'd protect you no matter what."

"Even throughout all this time you kept your promises, huh?" she said and flicked his nose. "I thought I told you I'd protect you too based on our promise, jerk."

"Ow! Well, I am stubborn as you fairly know. Again, I'm sorry I had to deceive you," he looked at his friends, "all of you. I did what I had to do. I don't expect forgiveness. And if you need to, go ahead and slap or punch me if it will ease your anger."

"Jason, we couldn't hate you but what you did was reckless," stated Rowan. "But you are our troublemaker mate." He said and smiled.

"To think you'd break a bunch of laws for the sake of stopping all this madness? I am impressed Aurelius," Tulip said walking to him and slapping him. "But if you're gonna break rules then let me help."

"It's good to know you're not evil Jason but please never do that again," Penny said as she hugged his side, and Merula looking up at him pouting.

"Haywood, you have three seconds to let go of my boyfriend," Merula said as she stared at Penny menacingly.

"Merula, at least one group hug we've been through a lot in the past few weeks," Penny wined.

"Fine, one time," Merula muttered.

All of the gang got together to commemorate their reunion as the vault solvers. They were happy to see their family was along again as a whole. After a moment of embracing, they made their way into the manner as Jason showed them the way in.

"Who's house is this?" asked Tulip.

"That crest, wait a moment. Jason, is this?" asked Rowan surprised.

"Welcome to the Aurelius manor. The United Kingdom manor anyhow," Jason stated embarrassed. "I got plenty of room so you all can have your own space to rest."

Jason gave everyone a tour of the manor and explained all the exits should they be attacked. By the time he finished all his friends had followed him to the dining area. They sat and ate as he explained more of the mission as one of Voldemort's minions and where the final battle would take place. Afterward, his friends went to their assigned rooms to get some much-needed rest. Jason went to his living room and stood by the fireplace lost in thought.

"You know, I am still quite angry with you. Yes?" Merula said as she walked to him.

"Well given how many times I was slapped I would have no idea," he said turning to face her. "But I wanted to keep you safe. Merula, I don't know how many times I have to say, but I'm-" Jason was cut off by her lips against his.

"Shut up, and I heard enough. I forgive you, but you're going never to do something this reckless again," she said placing a hand on his chest. "Am I clear Aurelius?"

"I promise," he said taking her hand into his kissing it. "My cover was blown anyway to save you, and I don't regret it." Jason caressed her cheek and smiled down at her. "I missed you Merula."

"I missed you too Jason," Merula replied stepping up to kiss him again.

"I won't leave you ever again," he said as he renewed their kiss.

"You better or you're gonna be in a world of trouble beloved," Merula said smirking up at him.

"I would never dream of crossing you," he said kissing her forehead. "I had seven years of that already amore."

"Well, I am the most powerful witch in the world."

"And the most beautiful witch in the world," he responded.

"How I miss your flattery," she said leaning into his chest.

"Ready to win a war?" he asked her smirking down.

"With you? Believe it." Merula said holding tightly as if he'd vanish.

Jason was one to take the necessary risk for those he loved. Merula knew that all too well. Putting his life on the line while saving her and protect her from the likes of many dangers before. Together, they will help put this world right and keep it from the likes of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

[chestshot]

A Cautionary Tale of India Pale

Prepare for Trouble, B-Side: A Cautionary Tale of India Pale,

Dark Holes and Transformations, or My Love Affair with xoxo<3Ms. Hopps <3xoxo

 Little children were playing behind me. I was in space. Time was forgiving. Never get caught in a blackout. Some never find their way home. As the streetlights illuminate the path of the righteous, the guardians watch over as we sleep. The beetles and moths have gathered in a procession, to welcome the night. “So, where were you?”  “I was playing in the dark, and I got lost. I had some breadcrumbs, thankfully.”

“This is going to hurt me more than you.” I never understood that logic. “So why can’t I do it to you, like you did it to me?”  “I’m doing this because I love you. Your soul is in danger.” We used to kneel on the bare floor covered in rice.

What is obedience, and what happens when it is forced? Believe in unity. Value brotherhood. Seize any opportunity to join hands. Even as the big hands crush the small hands, like a fist full of lavender flowers. Don’t think so hard. The guardians have done all the thinking for us. Some things do not need an explanation. Guardians discourage the children from scrutinizing every detail. All we need is to believe. Can’t we all just come together as one? If I wanted to find everlasting life, why did I have to lay it down to begin with?

           The Knights of Columbus hosted Sunday breakfast every month. My mother would always hand me a folded dollar bill when the collection basket came by. It was a little secret between our Father and I (Mathew 6:1-4). I was planting a seed for his kingdom, and if we did not fork over the dough, let us just say there was hell to pay.

           The instructor told us that Jesus loved us, so he died on the cross for us. If we loved Jesus, too, we had to love each other. We colored the nativity scene and learned a few prayers. We were taught a theology approved by the Roman Catholic Church, and classes were $25 per child. Those must have been some expensive ass crayons. I was a good boy. Never an altar boy.

           I had refused to help in the family garden in the front yard one time. The bathroom floor was cold on my cheek. The sweat and tears running down my neck fell on the yellow linoleum. My arm, bent around my back. Wrists too tight. Cheeks got so hot that the salt water started to dry up and irritate my skin. Was it worth it? I know it was fucking hot outside. The neighbors can hear. I’ve been getting ass beatings since I was alive. From the guardians, then from bad decisions, and possibly society. Sometimes the floor can become comfortable, waiting for the blackouts to cast a final spell.

           “God helps those that help themselves”®…Is not in the bible!

           The Sunday breakfast consisted of yellow “just add water” scrambled eggs. I was too young for coffee. Pass me the milk. I ate next to a church girl with an intellectual disability. Did God make her like that? I did not know. All I knew was that we were all equally hungry. I felt like all the dark holes in the floor were so much smaller back then. If I stepped on a crack, I could always find my balance, or the guardian would help me till I recuperated.

“Hey guys. Where’s Jesus’s cloths? Yeah… haven’t been able to hit up hot topic since COVID-19.”

           Societies fascination for making atonement. Drink and drive? Dui. Tax evasion? Prison time (unless its some shit like a white-collar crime). $50 dollar fines for parking in front of a fire hydrant, that one time I moved out of my parents’ house and rented a room from some asshole named Evander. Not a child anymore. Learning from experience. If I only learned to come home on time. Nothing good happens after 2 a.m. The dark holes were still manageable. No claws yet. No transformation.  The delinquencies were not ripe. There was not enough blood.

           I helped myself to a glass of orange juice. High pulp. Tart. Almost as refreshing as the forgiveness of sins. Dixie paper cups. An old couple. They must have both been in their eighties. With not much time to live, they both enjoyed the pancakes with light butter. No syrup though. Diabetes. He pulled the chair out for her. He took off her sweater and placed it behind the chair. He wiped his head with a towel, then his mouth. He regained his balance. and shuffled to his own seat. Where had the time gone? Playing with little toy cars and dirt, in the streets of his home country, and now using dentures. There was such an age of trusting that the streetlights were guiding him all along. When he could hear his mother’s voice and know in his heart that the night was near, but only to visit. He led the prayer and they both sat down to share maybe their last breakfast. Listened to your guardians. You might live as long as them.

           One time, Father Manuel unofficially sponsored Mission Tortillas. “Como Dios Manda” literally means “How God Orders” or more precisely “What God Demands of us”. He was calling out the young women who decided club wear for a Sunday mass was appropriate. Father Manuel roasted them. “Esta bien que sea Qinceniera. Pero esta es la casa de Dios.” We were all sinners, but some of us did a better job at hiding it. We were all trying to avoid the transformation. We all needed to love. We just needed time to patch things up.

           Mother Theresa believed that suffering was how you got closer to God. She refused to let some children receive treatment, so naturally, they would die. Bandage them up and throw them in the dirt. Suffering is the polished rock for sharp claws and feasting vultures. This psychic in San Francisco told me that I would be responsible for what I touch and what I know. I did not let him read my palm. I was swimming in ignorance, and the spirit would guide me.

Their little Calcutta souls belonged with the Lord. For a while, I started to believe that I was suffering, and therefore, there was no God. Those little Calcutta souls were all fucked. I think we suffer because we think we must. We like to convince ourselves that it’s all part of some divine plan. We suffer because we all have things we conveniently forget about. We should know better.

It’s not normal to stay up all night. It’s not normal to operate a vehicle under the influence of anything. It’s not normal to lie to the person you are with. It’s not normal to wake up at 3 pm every fucking day. It’s not normal to put things up your nose. It’s not normal to get in the car with a complete stranger. It’s not normal to think that you can live with people for free. It’s not normal to pass out at the bar. It’s not normal to constantly burn bridges. It’s not normal to forget what you did the night before. The blackouts swallowed me alive, over and over and over. I couldn’t see the streetlights. There was no one left to pay for my sins.

Last week, and then the week before, and before that. I lost a part of me. I’ve lost a few parts of me. Like a lot. Who was I? I had checked into the catacomb of wasted ambitions. The creatures of the dark had left. I looked in the mirror and could not accept what I had become. What big claws and teeth. The beer was gone. It was a scared man. No. A big bad wolf. My tail was between my legs. I was pitiful. My drinking career choked on it’s vomit. My guardian told me there was going to be hell to pay.

           I had a dream I was filling up one cup with another cup, like an endless water mill. I’m not sure why I always felt this way. An endless repetition that never ends, like new ideas filling old ones, but never quite arriving at a solution, or like fish eating fish eating fish… Like a two gallon hourglass, constantly being flipped on it’s other end, ass up, face down, full of itself. The air bubbles, trying to escape. The lump in the throat of my life, always sinking into my stomach. The transformation was complete. I was living in a blackout.

           The beta, or Siamese fighting fish, is native to Thailand and Cambodia. You can pick them up at your local swap meet. I used to love going to the Broadacre swap meet after Sunday mass. I got my hands on everything an eight-year-old should never get their hands on: laser pointers, chained wallets, pocket knifes, fart bombs, shock pens, pet’s I wasn’t able to take care of. I’m not sure what the fish were so angry about. Probably from being confined to a tiny ass sandwich bag.

I got my ass kicked in a bar fight once, in 2018. Three against one. I do not remember. I was asking for something that was not on the menu. I was being annoying. Swings broke out like a Florida coastline and faster than you can say Tallahassee’s televised turnout tremendously terrified pterodactyls. Too small. Smack. Too slow. Smack. I fell to the floor, head between my knees. My jeans ripped. All I see is stars. I raised a barstool over my head and threw it against the bar, not sure if it landed on anyone. Always bust out the bar stool when you know you are going to get rocked. I ran out through the front entrance and I called 911. I left my bicycle behind. The cops were nice enough to drive it down to me. They told me that the security guard told them I was trying to buy drugs. I told them it was a hate crime. They told me to go home. I told them I would never go back to that bar again.

           Pigs in a blanket. I think there was bacon. Bacon or sausage. No. I think there were both. I woke up at 6am to eat this at 10am. 10:15 if there was a line. Couldn’t everyone break bread the way we did? Always have to start a fight during a meal. If you’re a man of culture who would prefer to drink their meals, our fists made toasts to live long and pasta. The indigestion was the worst. I could not eat breakfast too early because my stomach lining was sensitive from the binge before. This did not stop me from killing a whole order of carne asada fries at night. I felt the weight of a bowling ball in my diaphragm when I woke up the next morning. Drinking water felt like swallowing marbles. This wasn’t normal. Nap. Bagel. Throw up.

SpaghettiOs. That’s not pasta. That’s an impasta.

           My older sister became an usher at church. She showed everyone to their seats. She wore a sash that said “Orden” or literally “Order”. She asked people if they could scoot over. She made room where people were resting their purses or when someone decided that they needed to sit with their legs wide open. Me and my younger sister always got pinches during service if we were joking around or being distracting. How did the people really bring their kids to church like that? We were so rambunctious!

The dark holes just seem like the better option sometimes.  If the blackout won’t take me now, then maybe tomorrow.

I had never wanted to grow up. I was so afraid that I would grow up to be a man with a wife and a house. I sounded like one of those kids who shits all over “the nuclear family” and the “white picket fence”. I had even said “I don’t want to have kids. I don’t want to bring more suffering into the world.” Then I would roll my eyes, take a puff of my cigarette and be proud of how postmodern I was.

The truth is, I was 26 years old, holding a fucking sign on the corner of Flamingo and Pecos at some Piano Lounge. Nobody wanted to marry me. I was living at my mothers house. I didn’t have a car or a drivers license. I hated everything I didn’t have. I still had my Lagunitas though. 7.1% a bottle meant I got nice and toasty after a six pack.

The Jack and Coke was just a nice butter and marmalade on top. Can’t have a nice toast without some warm butter and tangerine marmalade, raspberry jam. Ex-Pentecostal Holly Roller. I was so mad about that God Shit. I broke bread with my damaged complexion. I was a messy eater, leaving crumbs everywhere. Licking my claws like that racoon from Pocahontas. Like that, but still a big bad wolf…

           I was on my way to the "party bridge" on the Las Vegas strip. I had just got off the bus, after a 6-8 hour shift holding a sign on the corner of Flamingo and Pecos. The job was shit, but it didn’t require much interaction with people. God, I used to hate people.

When I got there, the police were harassing a group of street performers. I like to get faded, and I like to do it on the street. I buy some street performers some beers, ask if I can play a couple of songs on their acoustic guitar, and we get smashed. The police were pissing on my parade and I was not going to let that happen.

I went to the CVS and bought a case of PBR. When I got back to the bridge, I started handing out some cans to the street kids being interrogated. The police told me to stop, and I did not listen. I got arrested for obstructing an officer and resisting arrest. This was probably one of the most punk rock things I ever did in my life. Resisting authority was my raspberry jam. I liked that it made me feel bad to the bone. I felt like even more of a bad ass when I offered the holy spirit into my life, on the rocks with a pickle back shot.

           The police officer put me in handcuffs and took me to the cop car, outside of the Aria. I thought that I was standing up for the street performers. Really, I was just sticking my nose where it did not belong. When I got to the detention center downtown, the nurse asked me some questions. “Do you have a history of cocaine use in your family?” “Tu Madre!” I said. What the fuck did that have to do with anything? Faster than you can say “Pharmaceutical petty punks pretentiously pandered pedestrians” Five correction officers pin me to the wall. One of them had my arm bent behind my back and they were waiting for any reason to snap off my ring finger.

           I stretched out my ear lobes. The holes were wide enough to stick a sharpy permanent marker through. One of the guards whispered in my ear “I like to rip out gauges.” My body went limp. I was going to get ripped apart like a fucking lasagna. “Please don’t do that.” One of the other guards brought in a retainment seat, on wheels. Think of an elementary school chair with straps. The blue ones, or orange, sometimes. Class was in session.

I was wheeled to a retaining room with another inmate who had acted out. He had asked to use the restroom, so he was granted the privilege to defecate. They wheeled him away. I pissed myself. One of the guards came in to get me and realized what I had done. “Son of a bitch.” He said under his breath, realizing that he still had to maintain professionalism. The female officer following him said “Mark.” With disapproval. Fuck authority. I’m still a big bad wolf. Its society that has to change. Do you know who I think I am? I’m no impasta.

           The secret to having a good time is to show up to the bar with a few ounces of hard liquor already in your system. You save money and time. The bartender can never cut you off because they don’t even know what you act like when you’re sober. They’re not aware of the transformation. Pretty soon, I’m the big bad wolf with a bad haircut and jeans my mother bought for me at Ross. I say “LAGUNITAS” and the bartender takes my five. A cautionary tale of India pale: this shit will turn your brain to shit. Shit toast. From a shithole tavern, or Albertsons if I was emo and wanted to drink alone at the park.

           I always went to the bar by myself. I would try and make conversations if I was feeling sociable. The best way to do this was to smoke a cigarette, and let the acquaintances come rolling in. “I’ll tell you a joke for a cigarette” was always a good conversation starter. I would have also accepted “hey man, can I give you a dollar for a cigarette? I left mine at home.” I didn’t always have spare cash, but when I did, I liked to drink around strangers and not feel the isolation covering me, like stars just beyond my reach. Like aircrafts. Black night sky. The tar in community college lungs. Little Red Riding Hood didn’t show up. Probably cause her sisters were talking shit about me. It’s ok. I’m still big and bad.

Drink some water. Jesus fishes. Say a prayer. Missing pieces. Dying wish. Deep dish pizza.

Cheap not-the-real-Bel-Air hotel. Right on the corner of Ellis and Jones. Junkies were chasing dragons in high definition on the sidewalk. God checked out. No housekeeping. Ash tray on the nightstand, some beer cans, and $6.14 in cash. What a splash. Making out with Hopps. She gives my stomach purple ulcer butterflies. Sedates my lungs a car crash plum. Mind calming lavender razorblades cut gently. Her love is a condor. She picks at my liver like silver bullets diving into passion fruit scum.

[dat-town]

Touch of Midas

Characters: king!Changkyun & Nyx!reader (goddess of night)

Setting: mythology au, royal au

Genre: angst

Warnings: -

Words: 1758

Summary: A young king makes a deal with a goddess but it doesn’t end well.

Totally unnecessary information: Nyx had an affair with Dionysus who dealt with Midas. And yes, the Beautiful MV gave me the idea.

Each step of yours extinguishes the light of a candle by your side. Your presence alone is enough to doom the glorious corridors to impenetrable darkness. Only the silver moon shines through the wide French windows, and only because you order it to, just as you let everything else dissolve into the black void behind you.

Nobody dares to stop you. No human, not even the royal guards, would be that crazy to say no to you. Or even look you in the eye because they all fear what they would see there. Oh, pitiful weak humans! They know so little about how the universe works. Yet, their awestruck glances follow you everywhere, adoring the footprints you leave behind, hanging on your every word and envy your beauty and indescribable power. But they don't build you altars like they do for deities of harvest, prosperity and wisdom. They know you too well: you aren't swayed by gifts as you go on your own way. You, an eternal creature of nature, do what you want to do and don’t care about others’ opinion. That’s what makes you dangerous, even in the eye of the Olympian gods.

The guards on both side of a huge, fancy door bow into your direction, eyes casting downwards, body trembling in fear. They know that you could end their insignificant lives with a snap of your fingers, wipe them out of history like dust. There’s nothing to stop you and they are at your mercy, just like their king behind the gilded doors. Their vulnerability makes you smirk and the lovely curve adorning your features widens at their submission when they fling the door open for you.

That’s right, humans, treat me like a queen.

The sudden golden light of the shadowy room is blinding, but you recover quickly and smile down at the figure huddling up in the dim corner.

“Hello Changkyun,” you greet him keenly and the boy's shoulders shake at your mellifluous voice.

“Stay away from me!” he shouts both in despair and anger, stumbling to his feet. He’s the epitome of madness when he steps into the fireplace’s blazing light. Hair messy and torn, eyes with black circles, skin pale and worn but still so handsome. A young king on verge of losing his sane mind.

You coo at his childish protest and step closer, so close that you’re standing in front of him, breathing the same air. Yet, he doesn’t budge, only turns his head away, hanging it down in defeat. He’s also aware that throwing a fit wouldn’t help him and you partly like him for his quick wits. You touch his cheek gently with one hand, admiring the softness and flaws of it. Oh, so lovably human!

“You asked for unbelievable richness. Don’t you like my gift?” you blink at him innocently, long lashes fluttering despite knowing very well that you never give anything that you don’t benefit from. He’s just another naive, sulky kid who doesn’t like what he got in the end.

“It’s a curse,” he huskily replies, trembling at you touch.

It’s the first skin-to-skin, almost human contact in weeks he had without death following him. Tears prickle his eyes at the memory of those who he accidentally touched and turned into a golden statue. Because everything, living or not, he got his hands on turned into the finest metal, a massive piece of glimmering gold ever since he met you.

At first, the young king beamed at the richness he could have and how easily he could make his poor, indebted kingdom shine again. It was the reason behind his deal with you after all. But soon, he realized that he couldn’t sleep on a bed made of hard metal properly, he could only eat with golden cutlery and couldn’t have anyone near him in case they would get hurt, to put it nicely. His life became a havoc surrounded by tons of shining gold.

“Well-well, aren’t you ungrateful?” you click your tongue, fingers softly tapping at his chin, motioning him to look at you. When he does, you can see his wild, grief-filled eyes, the matt colour of loss. What happened to that lively boy eager to take the throne and write his name into history as one of the greatest kings? Did the responsibility change him? Or did you break him?

“Take it back,” he’s begging now, so pathetic. You shake your head relentlessly. You are a cruel deity, or so they say. They are not wrong, though.

“So bossy. Is it the way you should talk to your goddess while asking for something?”

Changkyun looks up at you like one would look at the moon on the darkest nights. As if you would be a guiding force, his only hope.

“Please… please, I don’t want it anymore,” he pleads with eyes wide as oceans, beautiful as the night sky itself. You swoon over them and their resemblance to yourself in their deepest pits. Perhaps you are getting soft for him and the mysteries of his soul. Or do they call it fondness? That stupid urge to keep him around even if centuries pass like minutes for you?

“What can you give me in exchange?” you croak an eyebrow curiously, taking his request into consideration. To what extent he would be willing to go, you wonder. Would he sacrifice his crown, his beloved people or even himself? How important it is to him to live freely, without the weight of this doomed ability?

“Anything,” he replies without hesitation as if he had nothing more to lose or he couldn’t imagine worse to come. A king, one of many, has just offered you his life; his body, heart and soul for you to play with and command to as you wish.

“Oh, be careful with what you promise!” you warn him a little too late with a muffled giggle and a sly smile. He’s already yours. But why not test it if you can?

You take a step back, looking around carefully in the old treasury, now full of gold and glitter. You still remember the first time you came here, into an empty room only with a handful of money. Changkyun must remember, too, the day he made a deal with somebody worse than Hades himself. You.

“I’ll lift your curse on two conditions,” you say, slowly on purpose, just to tease him, to see if he breaks but the boy patiently waits for you to finish. What a noble gesture! “You see all this? The things you got from me?” you pat the golden objects within reach, never taking your eyes off of him as you strike the coup de grâce. “You’ll lose them, and you will be the one to destroy them all. Every single one.”

The look the king takes around the room is almost nostalgic, like saying goodbye but being okay with it. He seems utterly calm, still and stoic like a marble statue.

“You want me to burn this place down?” he asks in a resigned tone, a sigh escaping his throat.

“Yes, basically,” you shrug nonchalantly and step back close, gently brushing a strand of his hair out of his forehead. You watch as his eyes turn into the colour of dark nights lacking stars and the moon. You see home in the shade of his orbs and you bet you could build up Tartaros in the depths of his soul. “You are too pretty to be a mere human. I bet Aphrodite adores you.”

Oh she has to! The bow of his lips, the curve of his eyes and the fall of his fringe alone is so perfect that even the children of the goddess of love and beauty would be envious and you wouldn’t blame them. No wonder why he caught your attention. Why you looked down on this peculiar human on your lonely nights. Why you offered him a deal in the first place. You want him for yourself and you actually know a way.

“When you die, I want you to tell the ferryman that your soul is mine,” you tell him firmly your end of the deal but as it seems, your condition doesn’t take him by surprise.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” you raise a brow at his confidence. Most people fear their afterlives and they would rather not even talk about it. They tend to think the rest of their precious soul is the most important thing in the world. But you, having eternity in the palm of your hands, know better: there is no glory at the end of the road, only misery. Suffering for something they can never have. Peace.

“Then let’s seal the deal. I’m sure you know by now how it works.”

Of course, he does. How can he forget the kiss that sealed his fate? You are smiling when you lean closer and brush your mouth against the king’s. His chapped lips somehow taste like gold yet all the same he tasted like last time: a mix of youth, hope and honey. A little bit of exasperation, too.

You gifted him with unfortunate wealth and he gives his soul willingly in return. That’s all you ever wanted and it makes you smile contentedly.

You leave the palace before morning comes but it seems like walking in daylight the way it burns behind you. You look fondly at the golden flames eating up the place and suddenly you yearn for something you can’t have.

Because you and the night are one and the same. You never leave its side, nor it leaves yours and you do the most you can with things touched by the Sun (destroy them) and the fire in humans’ souls (put it out). You bring the season of cold darkness yet you long for warmth. Ambitious kings and boys with sad eyes just happen to be your weakness.

You can chain them to yourself as you wish but they will never love you. Who would choose the night over day after all? Who would love you, the daughter of Chaos, a soul full of black holes and hidden golden stars?

Maybe he does, oh he does! He just doesn’t know yet.

You turn away from the golden fire but you can still feel it burn. Your heart. You don’t dream but if you could, you would dream about this: the daylight in his heart and the nightfall in his eyes. Him. Your favourite mortal who is loved by the night oh so much.

[puppetwritings]

It Isn’t Love || Seungcheol || Pt. 3

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 // Pt. 7 // Pt. 8 // Pt. 9 // Pt. 10 (Final)

Word Count: 3475

Genre: fluff, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au

Summary: In order to solidify and further prove the alliance of two kingdoms, the Choi Kingdom had decided to arrange a marriage between their kingdom and the Lee Kingdom. It was a great plan! Now, if only the two parties personally involved were willing…

Seungcheol adjusted his shirt and fixed his hair a little before stepping forward. The maids bowed and announced his presence before opening the door for him. He stepped through nervously, his heart pounding against his chest but all of that melted away when he saw his mother, smiling at him from where she sat on her bed.

“Seungcheol, you’re home,” she cooed, holding her arms out for him.

Seungcheol glanced back at the servants, his cheeks a little pink, as they began to close the door. He smiled more comfortably and walked over, taking a seat beside his mother as she wrapped him in her arms. She stroked his back like he was a child waking up from a nightmare and sighed against him.

“Was it tough?”

Seungcheol chuckled. “No, mom, I’m used to it.”

His mother pulled away, holding him at arm’s length. “Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“It was just a small cut,” Seungcheol shrugged.

“Where?”

He held up his right hand reluctantly and his mother sighed. She took his hand, carefully running her fingers over the scarring wound. Seungcheol looked at her guiltily. He slowly pulled his hand away, curling his fingers together to cover the scar and letting it rest against his lap. He smiled at her softly when she looked up at him with red eyes. She turned away momentarily and sniffled.

“Sorry, I just,” she shook her head, turning back to look at Seungcheol again. She reached up again and pushed the tears away once more before placing her hand against Seungcheol’s cheek. He could feel the tears she had just wiped away linger against her fingers as she carefully brushed a thumb over his cheek. “If only you were born to Queen Consort Kyunghee…someone with noble blood. Then—“

“Then I would be spoiled rotten with no common sense like the rest of them,” Seungcheol said, resting his hand over his mother’s. “Trust me, mom, I prefer this life over whatever Jinho and his three maniac brothers are living.”

“It’s unfair,” she said, her voice quivering as new tears began to fall. Another hand rose to hold Seungcheol’s face. “You’re talented. You’re so, so smart and so hardworking yet…your father doesn’t see that. He…he only sees you as…”

“I don’t care what he sees me as,” Seungcheol pulled away from her for a moment and stood, returning with tissues. “What I care about is you, mom. I’m happy, living like this. You realize that right? I’m alive, I’m eating well—“

“But you’re always at war,” his mother took several tissues and dabbed at her cheeks. “Wh-what if one day you—“

“I’m a skilled general,” Seungcheol assured her. “I’m not gonna die that easily.”

She looked at him tearfully and then nodded, sniffling as if to steel herself. “Of course not,” she lifted a hand, petting his head, “You’re strong. You’ve made it this far without your mother’s help.”

Seungcheol smiled, nodding childishly. “And I’ll be fine in the future too. So you,” he lifted a hand, carefully brushing aside her tears, “can stop crying.”

His mother sniffled, nodding firmly. “Okay. Okay, I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” Seungcheol said, handing his mother more tissues. He looked at her guiltily and sighed.

“Let’s move away from this topic, okay? Um,” she thought for a moment and lightened. “I heard the Lee Kingdom came yesterday?”

“They did,” Seungcheol nodded, leaning back to reach for the trashcan.

“They were here for a marriage arrangement?”

Seungcheol swept the tissues into the trashcan with a nod. “They were.”

She looked at him curiously, “How did that go?”

“I, uh,” Seungcheol thought about lying to her for a moment but knew better than to do it. When she figured out the truth, that her son had lied to her about his own marriage, she would be devastated. “Depends on who you ask.”

“And…if I asked you?”

Seungcheol glanced up at his mom before bending backwards again to set the trashcan further away. He cleared his throat, unable to meet her eyes. “They…they decided that…that I…”

His mother looked at him gently, placing a hand over his and coaxing him to look up. Her gentle voice sent a sharp pang through his heart as she asked, “Do you want to?”

He pursed his lips and then grinned. “Yeah! Of course I want to. Why…why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I’ve never heard you even mention a girl before much less wanting to start a family.”

“I’m just tired of going out to war,” Seungcheol lied. “If I get married, I don’t think I’d have to go out again.”

His mother’s face lit up, “Really?”

Seungcheol nodded. “It would be a shame if a marriage alliance ended up with the princess being widowed.”

His mother chuckled and looked at him fondly. “I’m glad that you’re willing to settle down. I had thought you would never find someone to marry since you’re always out on the battle field.”

“Even without this marriage arrangement, I would have gotten married eventually,” Seungcheol said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

His mother smiled and began to pet his head again, “Okay, I understand…how long will you be here?”

Seungcheol’s smile faded and he pursed his lips. “I was originally going to stay for the rest of the week but we got an urgent letter telling us we have to go back. I had originally planned to visit the Lee Kingdom during that time so I’ll be going there and I’ll come back here after. It’ll be about…half a year.”

“Half a year?”

“The war is almost over. It’ll be fine,” Seungcheol assured her, giving her hand a squeeze. “I have you to take care of and…a fiancée now.”

His mother smiled, carefully stroking Seungcheol’s hair. “Return safely. Don’t forget to send me letters.”

Seungcheol nodded. He stood and bowed. “Take care, mother. I’ll be back soon.”

The chilly fall weather shifted until it started to verge on blistering heat. It was nearly May now and the people in the streets had changed into lighter clothing. The skies were clear almost all the time and there were pesky mosquitoes in every household. Dead bodies rotted faster and smelled worse. A war camp was a terrible place to be at this time.

Jihoon wasn’t at a war camp though. Instead, he was watching as the maids were setting up for the ball.

The annual ball, an event that was looked forward to by any member of nobility and the regular civilians. The ball brought a place for nobility and royalties to mingle and have a fun night while it created a week long celebration leading up to the ball—a type of fair—for the civilians. They weren’t allowed to go into the palace for the ball, but they were still able to participate in the festivities. Even now, the people of the town were beginning to put up decorations and creating floats.

Jihoon had received two letters early that morning. One was from you, his sister, and the other was from your fiancé, Seungcheol (during the past six months, Jihoon was the only one he had apparently been in constant contact with). You wrote in your letter that the day had finally come—you were coming home some time that week. Jihoon had been buzzing with excitement but he decided not to tell anyone else yet lest plans change. Seungcheol’s letter notified Jihoon that he will be visiting and will most likely be making his way over by the time the letter reaches him. The rest of his letter contained a lengthy complaint about the war.

Jihoon had reported this immediately and a chamber was being cleaned to accommodate the Second Prince of the Choi Kingdom.

“Should this go here?” a maid asked, stopping in front of Jihoon and drawing him from his thoughts.

He smiled and nodded, “Yes…wait, no, put those over that way and those can go directly across.”

The maid curtsied and left to do as she was told.

Jihoon smiled contently as he looked over the brightly decorated hall.

The double doors opened, causing Jihoon and several others to turn to look. A young servant boy came in, strolling towards Jihoon. He bowed and then spoke. “Your Highness, Prince Seungcheol has arrived.”

“Already?” Jihoon asked, eyes wide. The boy nodded. “Send him in.”

The boy left and a moment later, Seungcheol came in with two men at his side (Jihoon recognized them as his guard and his aide-de-camp). He walked over with a large smile and held out his hand. Jihoon took it and pulled him into a hug before pulling away and looking at him.

“You look better than I expected,” Jihoon joked.

“Oh, please, I cleaned up just for you,” Seungcheol replied.

“He really did,” Wonwoo, the guard, murmured.

Jisoo suppressed a chortle as Seungcheol turned to glare at his guard.

“I didn’t expect you so soon though,” Jihoon said. “I just received your letter and I doubt preparations are ready.”

“We meant to send it out some time last week but it got lost among the reports and papers,” Seungcheol said apologetically.

“It’s no matter,” Jihoon grinned. He gestured around the ball room, “You’re just in time for the ball.”

“The ball?” Jihoon began walking, guiding Seungcheol with him as Jisoo and Wonwoo followed several paces back.

Jihoon nodded, “It’s an annual event we host. There is a festival for a week and at the end of the week is the ball. The festival is really for the people but we fund most of it.”

“That’s nice,” Seungcheol said, admiring the decorations as they passed. “There’s a lot of thought put into this.”

Jihoon smiled, “Thank you. I take pride in helping my mother.”

Seungcheol looked around in awe, “It’s nice.”

“This year’s ball is a masquerade,” Jihoon continued. “My mother loves masquerades. That’s how she met my father, actually.”

Seungcheol chuckled, “That is actually very sweet.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, “They’re always talking about it. Speaking of them, have you gone to greet them yet?”

“I tried but the servants told me they weren’t at home,” Seungcheol said, a questioning tilt to his voice.

“They must have gone out then. I’m sure they’ll be back in the evening or tomorrow,” Jihoon said. “Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t,” Seungcheol admitted.”

Jihoon waved a maid over and told her to bring food up to his study, then he turned to Seungcheol and led him and Wonwoo and Jisoo upstairs. Once they were there, Jisoo and Wonwoo stepped off to a corner and sat down. Jihoon guided Seungcheol over to his desk and Seungcheol being thumbing through his files and reading material with great interest, asking him what certain things were and what it was about.

The door to the study opened and Jihoon had been expecting one of the maids. Instead, Seokmin and Chan stepped in, both holding trays of food. They set them down, Jisoo and Wonwoo looking at them curiously, and walked briskly over to where Jihoon and Seungcheol stood. Seungcheol turned around to look at the two young boys who looked at him in awe. Jihoon straightened and cleared his throat.

“Seungcheol, these are my younger brothers, Seokmin and Chan. Say hi to the Second Prince.”

The two young princes bowed and stood back up.

“You’re going to be marrying Y/N?” Chan asked before he could stop himself. Seokmin nudged him.

Seungcheol chuckled before nodding. “Supposedly. If your sister likes me.”

“What if you don’t like her?” Seokmin asked boldly. Jihoon stood behind Seungcheol, gesturing for them to stop.

“If I don’t like her…” Seungcheol thought for a moment and smiled. “I’ll learn to.”

“You don’t get the option of rejecting?” Chan asked, frowning a bit. He found this unfair.

“We proposed the marriage,” Seungcheol said, restacking the papers he had been leafing through. “It’d be wrong of me to reject.”

“But you didn’t even agree to it,” Seokmin pointed out.

Chan shook his head, “I’ve never understood arranged marriages. Our kingdom doesn’t use that useless stuff.”

“Chan,” Jihoon scolded.

Chan pouted a little but muttered an apology.

“I agree,” Seungcheol’s fingers lingered against the paper for a moment, his expression turning dark. “Our kingdom has a lot of useless stuff that’s done…a lot of laws…hierarchies.”

Jisoo and Wonwoo pretended not to hear but they knew what Seungcheol meant. Those useless rules and hierarchies had already caused him a lot of pain.

The prince shrugged, released a sigh, and then looked up, “But that’s my kingdom. Yours is a lot freer. I like it better here.”

Chan lit up, “If you like it better here, you can come visit whenever you want!”

“Yeah, I’m sure mom and dad won’t mind,” Seokmin pitched in. “Especially after you become our brother-in-law—“

“Shouldn’t you kids be studying?” Jihoon scolded.

Chan and Seokmin looked at each other and then to Seungcheol with pleading eyes.

“They’re probably just taking a break,” Seungcheol said, smiling at them before turning back to Jihoon. “A short break is fine, isn’t it?”

Chan and Seokmin looked curiously towards Jihoon.

Jihoon sighed, “If you really become their brother-in-law I’m afraid they’ll run to you for help from now on.”

The two young princes grinned and then pulled Seungcheol over to the table to eat. Jisoo and Wonwoo finally reached for the food themselves and quietly ate.

“Who are these two?” Chan asked. “They stood when we came in.”

“Wonwoo is my personal bodyguard. Jisoo is my aide-de-camp,” Seungcheol said.

“Why do you need a bodyguard?” Seokmin asked, looking at Wonwoo curiously. “You can fight well, can’t you?”

“In the times of an assault, there will be more people because I can fight well,” Seungcheol explained patiently, “That’s why Wonwoo is by my side.”

Wonwoo hadn’t spoken up to defend for himself. He quietly ate. Though Jisoo chuckled a little. He knew that Wonwoo was a little bothered by the question.

“They don’t talk much do they?”

“They’re technically my servants. They don’t dare speak in front of other higher-ups,” Seungcheol said, though he felt a little uncomfortable speaking about his only friends in such a way.

“They can relax here,” Seokmin said. “Our servants are basically our family.”

“If only people at our kingdom thought like that,” Wonwoo mumbled.

“Your Highness, I think you’d fit in quite well over here,” Jisoo said, a playful smile on his face.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes at them, “Just keep eating.”

After the meal was finished, Jihoon began to walk Seungcheol to his room. Seokmin and Chan insisted on coming with them and Jihoon warned them about bothering Seungcheol while he was trying to rest. They nodded and swore that they wouldn’t bother him. They kept their word during the duration of his stay.

Once Seungcheol had been taken to his chambers, Jihoon showed Wonwoo and Jisoo to theirs, which were only a few doors away.

That evening, the king and queen arrived back home and Seungcheol was humbly invited to join them for dinner. He took Jihoon’s usual spot beside his parents and Jihoon sat beside him. Seokmin and Chan sat directly across.

“You guys sit close,” Seungcheol awkwardly noted.

“Do you not?” Queen Siyoon asked curiously.

“Um,” Seungcheol looked at his food awkwardly, “I’m not sure. I don’t think they do. I’m usually not at home…when I am I’m eating with my mother in her chambers.”

King Byungchul looked up from his food. “Do you and your family not have a good relationship?”

Seungcheol shifted uncomfortably. “Well…I wouldn’t say…”

“Sweetie, you’re making him uncomfortable,” Queen Siyoon said, putting a hand on her husband’s arm. She turned to Seungcheol. “It’s okay; you don’t have to answer him. He has no tact.”

Seungcheol smiled politely and Jihoon rolled his eyes. This was how his parents were like.

Dinner passed by pleasantly after that and it seemed that the Lees had taken a liking to Seungcheol. He was well-spoken, polite, and humorous. He showed more of his diplomatic side but, as King Byungchul said, they hoped that he would open up to him more later. Seungcheol went back to his room feeling oddly at home. Maybe that was only because of the hospitality of the Lees.

A few days into his stay (as Seungcheol had agreed to stay for the ball), he decided to take a walk around. He borrowed some clothes customary of the Lee Kingdom and he ventured out with Wonwoo and Jisoo beside him. The princes had offered to give him a tour but they had all been busy with one activity or other so Seungcheol had said it was okay; he wanted to wander around aimlessly.

And that’s what he did.

The streets were decorated with the bright colors of the rainbow. Long silk, multicolored ribbons were tied from one building diagonally to another and another piece was tied above it, creating a zig-zag pattern across the entirety of the street. The only places not decorated like this were the intersections where they couldn’t quite get it right.

Lanterns hung at store windows and other decorations with words that spoke of well-wishes. People dressed nicer than they normally would, wearing more festive colors rather than bleak colors. The homeless had enough money in their bowls to last them months at a time and everyone was generally in high spirits. It was strange to Seungcheol. He had never seen so many people so happy at one time. He figured it was part of their culture and their lax laws that provided so much happiness with their people. With rulers like the Lees, it was hard to have any discomfort about anything.

It was then, as Seungcheol roamed and admired the decorations and the people, that he heard an argument. He turned, Jisoo and Wonwoo looking in the same direction with him. Over there, near four street intersection, was a meaty man towering over what looked like a young boy. The meaty man was holding something high and the young boy was attempting to grab it angrily.

Seungcheol moved forward curiously as the crowd began to move towards the oncoming fight.

“That’s my master’s!” the young boy said angrily, trying to snatch it from the air.

The meaty man cackled, “Your master’s? You’re saying this jade pendent is your master’s?”

“Yes! She gave it to me to hold and you bumped into me so I dropped it on the ground!” the young boy grunted, nearly falling forward as he swiped at the pendent again but the meaty man moved aside.

“Hah! This pendent is mine! It was passed down to me by my father who got it from his father,” the meaty man said, his nose sticking up in the air presumptuously.

The young boy was boiling with rage. He looked like he was about to lunge at the man when a paper fan gently tapped his chest, stopping him from moving forward. Seungcheol’s eyes widened with interest as an elegant woman stepped forward.

“Is that his master?” Jisoo murmured, voicing the question that was in Seungcheol’s mind.

“That’s mine,” she said smoothly.

“It isn’t. It’s mine,” the meaty man argued.

At this point the crowd was beginning to murmur anxiously, unsure of what they should do. Should they call the constables? Should they help? But who’s side were they going to take?

“You’re trying to steal something that’s more than the price of your head,” she said firmly. She held out her hand, “Give it here.”

The man hesitated, obviously intimidated but then scoffed. “You’re lying! This is my jade pendent and—argh!”

It had been fast and Seungcheol wasn’t even sure if he had seen it properly but the man was lying on the ground, clutching his hand and the jade pendent was in the girl’s hand. She turned, pushing her fan closed and glared at the man.

“That fan is a weapon,” Wonwoo whispered to Seungcheol, confirming what he saw. She had just slashed that man’s wrist.

“If you have something to report, go to the constables,” She said firmly, opening her fan again to give herself a gentle breeze. “I’m sure they’d love to hear your lie.” She turned to her servant, “Come on, Jihu.”

Jihu, the little servant boy, grinned widely and nodded, following after her happily after tossing his head at the beaten man.

Seungcheol watched as she walked away, a scoff leaving him reluctantly. Wonwoo and Jisoo looked at him curiously. “Nothing it’s just…I’ve never seen a girl like that before.”

“You should get used to it, Your Highness,” Jisoo said. “I’m sure the princess is one-hundred times worse.”

“Or better,” Wonwoo added on. “Depending on how you like it.”

Seungcheol nodded, his eyes still on her figure until she was too far into the crowd to see. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[suki90]

Zelink One-shot :: Forever together::

Disclaimer: Legend of Zelda does not belong to me. All rights are reserved by NINTENDO, Aonuma and their respective authors.

Warning: Breath of the Wild Memories Spoilers.

Clarifications:

"Dialogue." "Thought."

Author: Suki90 Game: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Title: Forever together (Fanfiction version) Original Title: Por siempre juntos. (Versión de fanfction)

When you have a plan, one that you have improved continuously, the only thing you expect is that it goes to the dot just as planned, especially when a million of lives depend of its success.

However, we know that things not always go the way we want them to. And when they fail… the consequences turn out to be devastating and terribly painful.

Despite of his injuries, the knight and legendary hero took the princess's wrist and fled. They were alone; the other soldiers had fallen quickly to the power of those machines. There was no way to defeat the guardians who surprisingly turned against them.

What was happening? Why did the guardians and the beasts suddenly turn against them? Was Ganon that strong? Pfft, what an unnecessary question, of course he was, the situation spoke for itself.

The only option the hero had now was to keep running with the princess; he had to try to keep her safe now that the entire royal family and the champions had fallen. She was… the only hope of the shattered but still living Hyrule kingdom.

However, he suddenly felt his princess's hand being abruptly pulled away from his, forcing him to turn around to the blond-haired girl who now was on the floor.

No mattering how tired he was, Link quickly approached Zleda.

"How... How did it come to this?" the princess said with regret as she looked down. Link, who was already at a safe distance, chose to sheath the Master Sword and kneel before her. "The Divine Beast... The Guardians... They've all turned against us." she declared while remembering that unfortunate and unexpected turn of events which made her squeeze her fists tightly, at the same time that Link looked at her with regret.

He hated to see her that way.

"It was... Calamity Ganon. It turned them all against us!" Zelda declared with anger and frustration, but at the same time, sadness. Slowly, the princess raised her tearful eyes to the only person standing next to her. "And everyone... Mipha, Urbosa, Revali and Daruk... They're all trapped inside those things... and it's my entire fault!" she finally shouted, hiding her face in her hands.

Link's heart gave a slight twist in his chest the moment he saw her like that. Seeing the princess wound, dirty and defeated it hurt him, but seeing her cry... was the worst thing he could observe.

His vision of Zelda was that of a radiant young woman, full of life, with a beautiful smile and a melodious voice that deified anyone who saw or heard them, including him, although by his position he had to keep up appearances and avoid showing any kind of feeling that had to do with his princess. It was hard, but he was already used to being silent and not showing his emotions frequently.

Of course, Zelda was the exception to the rule most of the time, since she not only managed to make him talk more than what he was accustomed to, but he also ended up showing her that he was kind of a glutton.

She encouraged him to interact more with the other champions besides Mipha, his childhood friend. And he was grateful for that, although one of them kind of hated him.

That's why Link tried to console her, to say something to make her feel a little better... but no word came out of his mouth.

"I'm the worst princess ever...!"

"No, you are not…"

"Our only hope for defeating Ganon is lost all because I couldn't harness this cursed power!"

"I'm still here…"

"Everything... everything I've done up until now, it was all for nothing," Zelda stated in frustration. "So I really am just a failure!" she yelled to her guardian and friend with watery eyes. "All my friends... the whole kingdom... my father most of all ... I tried and I failed them all..." finally, and having no more strength to hold them, thick tears began to fall one by one on her cheeks.

Again, Link's heart could not help but squeeze by itself thanks to that vision he had before him. The only he could do was to look at her sadly, unable to do anything to console her. "Zelda..." was all he could say.

"I've left them... all to die..." with no more strength to continue speaking, and unable to avoid more what her heart and mind needed, the young princess quickly threw herself into the arms of the champion whose duty was not only to protect her, but also to defeat Ganon as the prophecy said.

That couldn't help but surprise Link, who never expected the princess to jump right into his arms to continue her grief and frustration. But now that he had her in his lap, crying wildly because of the great loss they were suffering, the knight couldn't do anything more than surround her with his arms.

He carefully stroked the princess's hair, trying to give her a comfort he knew would not come until they defeated Ganon.

"Don't cry..." he whispered, finally being able to express himself a bit as the princess continued to shed tears after tears. "Please, don't cry... I'm still here..." he whispered again as he allowed himself to take her a little closer to him.

Unable to calm her grief, the princess quickly lifted her arms and held Link's bluish clothing tightly. "Please, please, Link... don't leave me...," she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking and trying to vanish the distance between their bodies, she needed to feel the total closeness of her knight. "Promise me you'll always be with me...! Don't leave me alone too!"

"I promise... I will not leave you alone... I'll always be with you..." Link swore to his princess, trying to reassure her, until he suddenly heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

It was them. The guardians were finally catching them up. They should get out of there.

Not wanting to pull Zelda away from him, but not having any other choice, he put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Princess... we have to go..." he said. Those words managed to alert the blonde, who immediately turned her eyes to her back.

"The Guardians…"

"If we don't leave quickly, they'll catch up with us," he said. "I know you're tired… and that the last thing you to want see is even more destruction, but…"

Not letting him finish, Zelda finally pulled herself away from her guard and a little wobbly stood up, who was then followed by Link. After wiping away the tears that still continued to fall from her eyes, the heiress to the throne didn't hesitate for a moment and took the hand of the hero whose mission was to save Hyrule.

In other circumstances, Zelda would have turned as red as Urbosa's hair, since she had never dared to take that liberty with anyone, not even Link, who was the only Hylian with whom she had such a close relationship and so many confidences.

However, the current situation was different, and all nervousness and shame had to be put aside.

"They're getting closer; we better get out of here ..."

"Yes," Link said, who seconds later began to run with the princess.

Again, and under the strong rain that fell upon the kingdom, the young Hylians set themselves to the task of fleeing from the controlled guardians who were nearer and nearer. If they wanted to save the kingdom, and avenge their friends, they had to find a safe place to hide.

It was the only way they would both be momentarily safe.

"Link..." Zelda suddenly called out in her agitated voice; although, the only response she got from him was a "Mm?", because if he spoke he would ran out of the breath he was trying to control while running. "We'll always be together, right?" the princess asked him, wanting to reaffirm the words he had said to her a few seconds ago in the middle of the forest.

Even if he was tired of running and because of the injuries the guardians had done him farther back, Link pressed more tightly his grasp on the princess hand and nodded firmly before answering her, "Forever."

Somehow, that reassured Zelda slightly. If he stayed by her side, she was sure she'll be able to move on. After that no word was said again, so they continued to run through the forest, looking for some cave they could take refuge from the rain and the guardians; that was the only thing on their minds for now.

Unfortunately, later on, something was already waiting for them.

Suki: Hi guys, I'm Suki90, a Spanish fanfic writer, and I'm here trying to share with you one of my three one-shots of BotW Zelink. I'm sorry if I have grammar mistakes! Please, if there's someone who can be my beta here, I'll appreciate it!

Well, I'm totally in love with this pairing. They're now my other favorite alongside Skyward Sword Zelink.

This one-shot is based on the memory of Link where he and the princess flee from the guardians and she cries in his arms. The expression of our hero there is one of the best in the whole game, because it shows that it hurts him to see Zelda like that.

I hope you liked it!

[sueboohscorner]

#TheWalkingDead Season 8 Episode 9 'Honor' In-Depth Recap Plus Questions

Sunday, February 25th, 2018

CORAL?!?

*WARNING: THIS ARTICLE CONTAINS EXPLICIT DETAIL FROM SUNDAY NIGHT'S EPISODE "HONOR." IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN IT, TURN BACK NOW. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!*

Oh. My. God. Sunday's episode of The Walking Dead marked a new death in the series' death list; our very own Carl Grimes. Our beloved one-eyed hero was bitten in episode 6 of the eighth season and took his own life at the end of the mid-season premiere. Many fans, including myself, were not looking forward to the episode because we knew what was coming. But, it was inevitable. R.I.P Carl Grimes. You will be missed. 

Episode 9 of 'Honor' began with another premonition of Santa Rick and an older Judith running up to Jerry. Then, it comes back to Rick and Michonne digging (presumably Carl's grave). Carl flashes back to the walker tangle. The walker is seen taking a chunk out of Carl's abdomen. Then, it shows the buildup to Carl's reveal, spending time with Judith, writing everyone notes, rescuing Siddiq and sneaking him inside and Carl changing and dressing his wound. Then, Carl visits Tobin at the gates. He hands Carl a note from Michonne that reads; I had to see it for myself. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye first. Will be back soon. Michonne. Then, it shows him preparing the sewer for a hide-out and a cot for him when he's too weak to stand. He then shares a Big Cat with Siddiq. Morgan scouts the Sanctuary. He watches as the walkers begin to die and pile up, creating a trail. Then, they shoot at Morgan. He heads out and diverts a pack of walkers back as five or so Saviors appear. Gavin's group is seen heading towards the Kingdom. Morgan appears from within the treeline and follows. 

When the commercials end,  a walker is seen tangled up in Carol's wire trap. Henry kills the walker as Carol advises the Kingdom people of where to hide. Henry wants to tag along, but she refused him. She leaves. Carl is in bad shape. He's pale, sweating and visibly in distress. Rick is speechless, and Michonne is crying. Carl tells Rick 'It's alright.' He admits that he didn't know if Rick was going to make it back 'before.' He pulls out the stack of letters and hands them to Michonne. Carl tells Rick about Siddiq. Twice, Carl tells Rick "I got bit." 

Gavin is talking to Ezekiel when the second set of commercials end. He tells him that Negan's going to kill him. Ezekiel says he freed his people, so what is done to him he is okay with. Gavin says he liked Ezekiel. Gavin blames Rick. Ezekiel says he made a choice he could live with. He tells Gavin to do the same. Morgan sneaks in at this point. Carol then appears behind him. They strategize. Rick and Michonne put Carl on the cot. Siddiq gives Rick a few meds to Rick to help Carl through. Rick guesses he's a doctor. Then, he asks Carl if he knew. Carl says he knew Siddiq wouldn't make it to Alexandria alone. Michonne jumps up and charges Dwight. She orders him to make it stop. Then, she breaks down and somewhat begs him to make it stop. Rosita says their best bet is to get everyone to The Hilltop. Dwight says to ride it out, then leave. Daryl then says "All is us, together. We'll be their worst damn nightmare." 

Carol and Morgan sneak around, ambushing and assassinating the stragglers. Gavin's men load up supplies. Gavin asks the king "Is it gonna go bad, Ezekiel?" Ezekiel says it'll be fashioned to his start. Carl dishes on Michonne for leaving. She laughs and says she isn't the one dying. He says she looks great. He also says that 'it' needs to stop. Dwight's guess about the mayhem lightening up comes true. Daryl and Rick exchange a glance. Carol and Morgan get closer. He advances and ignores her. He mows them down, and Carol only gets one. They gather guns. Gavin tries to accommodate The King's ride. Gavin radios his men but gets no response. This worries him. He and his men rush away with Ezekiel while Carol and Morgan close in. 

A red wide-eyed Rick is seen. Then, he is seen in the premonition with Judith. They walk up to Eugene. Then, Michonne and Rick are seen burying something. He sits with carl while he says goodbye to Judith. The Saviors have left. Rick says Carl won't make it to Hilltop. They both decide to stay. He tells Judith to 'Be good for Michonne and Dad. Sometimes kids have to show parents the way.' He gives her the Sheriff's Hat. He tells her "Before mom died, she said that I was going to beat this world. I didn't. But you will. I know you will." As Rick pulls her away, she starts to weep. Daryl takes her and tells Carl "You saved everyone. That's on you." Daryl walks off with Judith. Siddiq tells him "you were helping me honor my mom. You brought me here. You gave me a chance. I know I can never repay you, but I can honor you. I can prove that your death wasn't for nothing." Carl smiles and says "Congratulations. You're stuck with us." 

Gavin and Co take Ezekiel to the auditorium. He hits Ezekiel. Gavin says it's too late, Ezekiel dies, and he lives. Then, there's an explosion at the doorway. Morgan and Carol fire. Later, Morgan gets into a fist fight and tears a man's guts from his body. Ezekiel finds a gun and Gavin runs. Morgan pursues. Michonne and Rick hold Carl, wiping the sweat away. She asks if he's okay. He tells her that he doesn't want her to be sad or mad. He wants her to be strong for Rick, Judith and herself. He doesn't want her to carry his death. Then, he says "My best friend, Michonne." She cries, smiles and replies "You're mine, too." The candle blows out AMD Rick says he needs help with getting Carl to ground level. 

Gavin goes through a maze. Morgan stalks. Michonne and Rick carry a limp Carl through a crispy Alexandria to the church. Morgan sets Gavin up and finds him hiding. Rick lays Carl down. He thanks Rick for making him who he became. "Back at the prison, when we were attacked, there was a kid, a little older than me. He had a gun. He was starting to put it down, and I shot him. I just shot him." Morgan taunts Gavin. He pleads his case, saying they can't beat Negan. Rick tells Carl "No, what happened, what you lost, what you had to do, you were just a boy." Carl tells Rick "And you saw what it did, how easy it got." Morgan stands Gavin up. Carl says Rick brought everyone in and they lived together. He says he did it so he could become what he was now. "It's alright. It still is. You can be like that again." Ezekiel doesn't want Gavin dead. Rick says he can't be who he was. Carl says killing them all won't happen. Carol tells Morgan he doesn't want to kill him, but Morgan says he has to. As he does to kill him, a hole appears in Gavin's throat. When he drops, Henry is seen. "I know you can't see it yet, how could we? But, I have. You have a beard; it's bigger. Greyer. Michonne's happy, Judith's happy. She's older, listening to songs that I used to. Before. Alexandria is bigger, new houses, crops, people working, everybody living to help everybody else live. If you can still be who you were, that's how it could be." Carl explains. Rick tells him "Carl; it was all for you. Right from the beginning. Back in Atlanta, the farm. Everything I did was for you. Then, at the prison, it was for you and Judith. It still is. It's going to be. Nothing, nothing is gonna change that." He tells Rick that he wants it for him and Rick promises to Carl that he's going to make it real. Carl and Michonne exchange a glance.

After the final commercial break ends, Ezekiel tells Henry that it's okay. Carol gets on him. Ezekiel de-escalates the situation. Rick apologizes for not protecting him. After all, it's a father's job. "Love, it's just love," Carl says. He deploys his gun. He wants to go out on his own terms while he still can. Rick doesn't want him to, but he succumbs to it. Carl and a wet-eyed Michonne say their final "I love you's" as well as Carl and Rick. Rick repeats "I'll make it real." In the next scene, Rick and Michonne are standing g outside of the church for a moment when a single gunshot is heard. Their heads are hung. They bury Carl in the Alexandria graveyard. Judith is seen walking up to a man gardening tomatoes. Wait, Negan?!? They're all pleased to see one another. Then, Rick is seen sitting up against a tree staring at the stained glass. He has a bloody hand. 

My God was this a compelling and sorrowful episode. I am utterly shocked by everything that went down. Were you surprised to find out everything that happened? Did you expect everything? What do you think will happen next? How will this affect the show as a whole? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, be safe everyone. 

Rest In Peace, Carl Grimes. Chandler Riggs, you will miss.

Editor: Joeleen Gatlin

[chestshot]

Creature in the dark love to scare the little children. The grownups say a prayer, and the demons are forced to return to the shadow realm. Never get caught in a blackout. Some never find their way home. Come in as soon as the streetlights illuminate the path of the righteous. The beetles and moths have gathered in a procession, to welcome the night. “Where were you?”  “I don’t know” was never the right answer. It is never going to be the right answer. “Stop crying. I’ll give you something to cry about.”

In this house, the belt and extension cords keep the disobedient in line. Sticks leave bruises. No Bueno. Back straight. “This is going to hurt me more than you.” I never understood that logic. “So why can’t I do it to you, like you did it to me?”  “Porque yo soy la puta que te pario (because I am the bitch that birthed you). I’m doing this because I love you. Your soul is in danger.” We used to kneel on the bare floor covered in rice. We were made to carry these bags above our head for twenty minute and think about how we were not supposed to fight. She went easy on us this time. “Now kiss your sister and tell her you love her and you’re sorry.”

What is obedience, and what happens when it is forced? Believe in unity. Value brotherhood. Seize any opportunity to join hands. Even as the big hands crush the small hands, like a fist full of lavender flowers. Don’t think so hard. The guardians have done all the thinking for us. Some things do not need an explanation. Guardians discourage the children from scrutinizing every detail. All we need is to believe. Can’t we all just come together as one? If I wanted to find everlasting life, why did I have to lay it down to begin with?

           The Knights of Columbus hosted Sunday breakfast every month. It was a fundraiser. As if the crusades did not provide enough funding. As if the parish had not given enough during the second collection. My mother would always hand me a folded dollar bill when the collection basket came by. It was a little secret between our Father and I (Mathew 6:1-4). I was planting a seed for his kingdom, and if we did not fork over the dough, let’s just say there was hell to pay.

           I went to Sunday school. I had to. Otherwise I could not get baptized or have my first communion. The instructor told us that Jesus loved us, so he died on the cross for us. If we loved Jesus, too, we had to love each other. We colored the nativity scene and learned a few prayers. We were taught a theology approved by the Roman Catholic Church, and classes were $25 per child. At the baptism, donations were formally encouraged. Those must have been some expensive ass crayons. I was a good boy, but never good enough to be an altar boy.

           I had refused to help in the family garden in the front yard one time. The bathroom floor was cold on my cheek. The sweat and tears running down my neck fell on the yellow linoleum. Now a grip on the arm, bent around my back. Too tight on the wrists. Cheeks got so hot that the salt water started to dry up and irritate my skin. Was it worth it? I know it was fucking hot outside, but couldn’t I have just done a shitty job or at least bullshit? Close the door. The neighbors can hear. Plus, the ac is on. I’ve been getting ass beatings since I was alive. If not from the guardians, then from bad decisions. I want to make them happen, but I always keep getting in my own way. Sometimes the floor can become comfortable. Just waiting for the blackouts to swallow me whole.

           God helps those that help themselves…. Wait.. That’s not in the bible!

                The Sunday breakfast consisted of yellow “just add water” scrambled eggs. I was too young to get hooked on coffee. Pass me the milk. I ate next to a church girl with an intellectual disability. Did God make her like that? I did not know. All I knew was that we were all equally as hungry after service. I felt like all the dark holes in the floor were so much smaller back then. If I stepped on a crack, I could always find my balance, or the guardian would help me till I recuperated.

“Hey guys. Where’s Jesus’s cloths. This is not funny. Oh… you guys hung him like this? Why? He was giving everyone free healthcare and food and shit. He doesn’t deserve this shit! Bring him down! Now!”

                Societies fascination for making atonement. Drink and drive? Dui. Tax evasion? Prison time (unless its some shit like a white collar crime). $50 dollar fines for parking in front of a fire hydrant, that one time I moved out of my parents’ house and rented a room from some asshole named Evander. I was not a child anymore. I was learning from experience. If I only learned to come home on time. They say “Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.” I could have only imagined why, but the dark holes were still manageable. No claws yet. No transformation.  The delinquencies of adolescence were not yet ripe. There was not enough blood.

           I helped myself to a glass of orange juice. High pulp. Tart. Almost as refreshing as the forgiveness of sins. Dixie paper cups. An old couple. They must have both been in their eighties. With not much time to live, they both enjoyed the pancakes with light butter. No syrup though. Diabetes, you know. He pulled the chair out for her. He took off her sweater and placed it behind the chair. He wiped his head with a towel, then his mouth. He regained his balance. and shuffled to his own seat. He led the prayer and they both sat down to share (maybe their last) Breakfast. Listened to your guardians and maybe you can live as long as them.

           One time, Father Manuel unofficially sponsored Mission Tortillas. “Como Dios Manda” literally means “How God Orders” or more precisely “What God Demands of us”. He was calling out the young women who decided club wear for a Sunday mass was appropriate. Father Manuel roasted them. “Esta bien que sea Qinceniera. (it would be cool if this was a Quincenera) Pero esta es la casa de Dios (but this is the house of God).” We were all sinners, but some of us did a better job at hiding it. We were all trying to avoid the transformation. We all needed to love. We just needed time to patch things up.

           Mother Theresa believed that suffering was how you got closer to God. She refused to let some children receive treatment, so naturally, they would die. Their souls belonged with the Lord. For a while, I started to believe that I was suffering, and therefore, there was no God. I think we suffer because we think we must, like it’s all part of the greater picture. I also think we suffer because we all have things we conveniently forget about. We should know better.

It’s not normal to stay up all night. It’s not normal to operate a vehicle under the influence of anything. It’s not normal to lie to the person you are with. It’s not normal to wake up at 3 pm every fucking day. It’s not normal to put things up your nose. It’s not normal to get in the car with a complete stranger. It’s not normal to think that you can live with people for free. It’s not normal to pass out at the bar. It’s not normal to constantly burn bridges. It’s not normal to forget what you did the night before. The blackouts swallowed me alive, over and over and over. I couldn’t see the streetlights. There was no one left to pay for my sins.

August 15thth, 2020, 2:30 A.M.-ish

I said I was going to work on it las week, and then the week before. I had checked into the catacomb of wasted ambitions. The creatures of the dark had left. I looked in the mirror and could not accept what I had become. What big claws and teeth.

                I had a dream I was filling up one cup with another cup, like an endless water mill. I’m not sure why I always felt this way. An endless repetition that never ends, like new ideas filling old ones, but never quite arriving at a solution, or like fish eating fish eating fish… Like a two gallon hourglass, constantly being flipped on it’s other end, ass up, face down, full of itself. The air bubbles, trying to escape. The lump in the throat of my life, always sinking into my stomach. The transformation was complete. I was living in a blackout.

           The beta, or Siamese fighting fish, is native to Thailand and Cambodia. You can pick them up at your local swap meet. I used to love going to the Broadacre swap meet after Sunday mass. I got my hands on everything an eight-year-old should never get their hands on: laser pointers, chained wallets, pocket knifes, fart bombs, shock pens, pet’s I wasn’t able to take care of. I’m not sure what the fish were so angry about. Probably from being confined to a tiny ass sandwich bag.

I got my ass kicked in a bar fight once, in 2018. Three against one. I do not remember. I was asking for something that was not on the menu. I was being annoying. Swings broke out like a Florida coastline and faster than you can say Tallahassee’s televised turnout tremendously terrified pterodactyls. Too small. Smack. Too slow. Smack. I fell to the floor, head between my knees. My jeans ripped. All I could see was stars at that point. I raised a barstool over my head and threw it against the bar, not sure if it landed on anyone. Always bust out the bar stool when you know you are going to get rocked. I ran out through the front entrance and I called 911. I left my bicycle behind. The cops were nice enough to drive it down to me. They told me that the security guard told them I was trying to buy drugs. I told them it was a hate crime. They told me to go home. I told them I would never go back to that bar again.

           Pigs in a blanket. I think there was bacon. Bacon or sausage. No. I think there were both. I woke up at 6am to eat this at 10am. 10:15 if you consider waiting in line. Why couldn’t everyone break bread the way we did? People always have to start a fight during a meal, or beer, if you’re a man of culture who would prefer to drink their meals. The indigestion was the worst. I could not eat breakfast too early because my stomach lining was still sensitive from the binge the night before. This did not stop me from killing a whole order of carne asada fries at night. I felt the weight of a bowling ball in my diaphragm when I woke up the next morning. Drinking water felt like swallowing marbles. This wasn’t normal. I’m not going to lie.

Well that’s great news, kind sir, because I can not condone dishonesty. Now please leave the patrons alone or get out of the bar.

           My older sister became an usher at church. She showed everyone to their seats. She wore a sash that said “Orden” or literally “Order”. She asked people if they could scoot over. She made room where people were resting their purses or when someone decided that they needed to sit with their legs wide open. Me and my younger sister always got pinches during service if we were joking around or being distracting. How did the people really bring their kids to church like that? We were so rambunctious!

The endless cycle of Life: that our guardians had to beat the shit out of us. So that maybe we could learn. Or so we would avoid the transformation. In the end, we resent their efforts and only make it worse for ourselves. I try to push myself up, but my left arm is too mangled to lift any weight. The dark holes just seem like the better option sometimes.  If the blackout won’t take me now, then maybe tomorrow.

The holes are patched up today. I found my way through the dark. My guardians were there all along.  I just needed some space. My mind is clear. I can focus again. I can have breakfast again. The nights can be long and dark, but I know the demons have left. My house is in order. My mind is clear. I finally have a clean conscience. I want to go back to the time when I was a child. Back to a time of trusting that the streetlights were guiding me all along. When I could hear my mother’s voice and know in my heart that the night was near, but only to visit.

Drink some water. Jesus fishes. Say a prayer. Missing pieces. Dying wish is - God’s my witness – you just know** * the nighttime* ** only** came to** visit**.