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pillage-and-lute · 4 years ago

Text

Thicker Than Water (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 (here) Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

Finally here, now that I’m feeling a little better.

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Traveling with Geralt, Ciri, and Yennefer was hard. They went slow for Yennefer’s sake, and for that Jaskier was thankful, but his entire body ached.

He’d woken up cold and damp, body sore from lying on the ground in his cheap bedroll, but he didn’t complain. He drank heavily from his water skin to keep his stomach from growling, unwilling to use up precious food for himself. He was being brought along on this journey against Geralt’s -and his own- wishes, but he would not be a burden.

He forged ahead, even, at one point, taking a bag from Yennefer. She didn’t have much to carry but he recognized the full body exhaustion on her face. She didn’t smile at him or thank him, but she nodded gratefully.

Jaskier reflected on that. He had wanted to hate the witch, especially back then, after the djinn, when he’d seen her and Geralt...playing hide the sausage. He found that he couldn’t. He was an artist, he appreciated beauty and pain and the use of words and an excellent storyline. Yennefer checked those boxes. Jaskier felt ashamed to want to dislike her. She’d held back forces at Sodden, she was strong and good with Ciri and cared for Geralt. He appreciated all these things.

It was just...she and Geralt and Ciri were all together. A powerful sorceress, a twice-made Witcher, a hero, and their adopted child with untold power and a regal birthright. It made a family. And just like with his own family, there was no place for Jaskier.

It hurt.

But he wasn’t supposed to be part of the family. He wasn’t there to share in the chatter Ciri directed at Yennefer and Geralt. Geralt even talked back a little, answering in one or two words the stream of questions. He answered them though. Jaskier wished he’d ever answered him.

Then he felt silly. He was jealous of Ciri, who was a child. A brave child, but a child nonetheless, who’d lost her home and her family and everyone she knew in a very short time. Of course Geralt would answer her questions, he was a good man.

He also liked children, Jaskier knew. He let his memory drift to a happier time.

It had been a summer fair in a tiny, agricultural village, tucked among wheat fields like a lost button beneath a patchwork quilt. The sun had been warm and the whole world was amber. Jaskier was playing music with a scratch band of anyone who wanted to join. Lighthearted jigs and reels had unfurled beneath his hands. He played The Willow Wedding and The Flowers of Fairside and other simple country songs that his fellow musicians might know. All around them people were dancing and laughing. Flower crowns were made. Young women shyly offered them and young men shyly took them to indicate blooming romance, but almost everyone in attendance had one, old and young.

Geralt had been standing, looming without intention, at the edge of the crowd, near Jaskier. In the shadows, in his black outfit (Jaskier had insisted he leave the armor back at the in) he looked out of place, like a thistle in a bouquet.

Then a little girl in a neat yellow pinafore, dyed with weld, probably, and carefully embroidered with little yellow roses at the collar stopped by the musician. She was perhaps four years old, and she looked at the dancers and then just sat down and began to cry.. It had been a sight to bend even the hardest heart and Jaskier had been just about to stop playing when Geralt crouched in front of her.

“What ever is the matter?” Jaskier had heard him say, softly.

“Everybody’s dancin,” sniffled the little girl. “An nobody wants to dance wif me.” She reached up and took the dandelion and daisy flower crown from her dark, bushy hair.

Jaskier’s heart just melted and he wanted to cry in sympathy as one big, blobby tear rolled down a round cheek. She scrubbed it away hastily but more were hanging on lashes all around her big, brown eyes.

“Nobody wants to dance with you?” Geralt said, affecting a wide eyed look of surprise. The girl sniffled again and pointed to the edge of the dancing, where a group of kids, a little older than her, where all wheeling about together.

“Not nobody,” Geralt said, gently putting her flower crown back on her head. “You haven’t asked me if I want to dance, have you?”

She sniffed the last of her sniffles and looked up, a slow smile starting. “Do ya wanna dance wif me?”

“Of course,” Geralt had said, then he’d very carefully lifted her so her tiny feet were safely away from trodding, and he’d set her feet on the tops of his big, black boots. Then Geralt had danced, a little awkwardly, but holding her little hands in his large ones and taking big steps so she bounced on his boots, which resulted in her shrieking with delight.

Eventually an older girl had pulled her away to go spin about with the others, but the memory lived in a quiet, warm place in Jaskier’s chest. He thought of it often, and the way the little girl had offered a tiny daisy from her flower crown. It had remained in Geralt’s fingers as he returned to his place, brooding in the shadows, spinning it between thumb and forefinger occasionally.

“Dandelion,” Ciri said, pulling him from his reverie. “Jaskier, can you tell me a story?”

Jaskier glanced back to see the look on Geralt’s face, but then wasn’t sure why he had, the witcher’s expression held no answers, it never did. The story that leapt to mind was, of course, Geralt dancing with that child in the sunshine, but he didn’t tell it. Instead he leapt into a tale, a long one, of the son of a king who wanted to marry the lovely daughter of an evil enchanter.

It was a good story, very long with lot’s of parts, so Ciri could ask for more again and again, and there were amazing characters with strange tales and true love and magic and wishes. Everything a good story needed. Jaskier prided himself on doing the voices for each new character.

Ciri traipsed along beside him, hanging on his every word. She was a good audience, making surprised noises or saying ‘oh no!’ at just the right points. Jaskier even noticed Yennefer listening, occasionally smiling to herself at a joke or a good part of the story.

Geralt walked on ahead. Jaskier had no way of telling if he was listening, but he probably wasn’t. The story was fantastical to the extreme and if Geralt were listening he would probably be scoffing and complaining about how that ‘can’t be done with magic’ and ‘there aren’t river dragons, there’s only water serpents, they’re different species entirely’.

It was funny, though, when they stopped for dinner-Jaskier picking at the rations offered, reluctant to use up supplies but unwilling to worry Ciri- he continued the story, and Geralt, who had been sharpening his sword, stopped.

Of course, it was probably simply that the blade didn’t need much sharpening, or that Geralt wanted to allow Ciri to listen. Still, Jaskier felt good. He hadn’t complained, he wasn’t eating too much food, and he wasn’t much of a burden.

And Ciri liked the story.

They kept walking after dinner, so long as they still had light, relying on Geralt in the dim twilight to find a spot to camp. Jaskier told more of the story, not even a third of the way through, and occasionally Ciri asked questions.

“Why did the king’s son not want to marry the oldest sister?”

“Because she was too cold,” Jaskier said, inventing, because the story didn’t say. “She was beautiful, but she could not love, so her heart turned to ice and everything she touched froze.”

“And the middle sister?” Ciri asked, wide eyed.

“She was too warm, she was angry, all the time, and so her heart turned to fire and all she touched melted or burned.”

As the story he told progressed, Jaskier used his additions in the story. The king’s son, fleeing with his soon-to-be bride, the youngest sister, had to escape the sorceror’s wrath, but the sisters tried to stop their youngest sister leaving, melting the chains of the drawbridge so that the couple couldn’t escape.

Ciri gasped and wrapped one hand in Jaskier’s traveling cloak, hanging on to him as tightly as she held to his words.

Then the eldest sister in the story sent a blizard after the couple, who had escaped the draw bridge just in time. Yennefer, who looked a little better after their meal and short rest, sent a tiny swirl of snow, a miniature blizzard from her finger, letting it play a moment with Ciri’s hair before dissappearing.

Ciri laughed with delight and Jaskier sent a smile to Yennefer, who nodded at him surprisingly warmly. A good story made everyone happy, he supposed.

They stopped for the night in another clearing. Ciri begged for more of the story before bed. Geralt sat, setting the fire so it could burn through the night, while Yennefer brushed out Ciri’s hair. It was a perfect, domestic little scene, and Jaskier felt odd, seeing it from the outside, but also in the spotlight of Ciri’s focus.

He plucked his lute quietly as he told the story. In truth, there were many little poems buried in the tale, and he’d long ago made little tunes for each so that they could be sung. When he came to one, though, he didn’t sing it. He just plucked out the tune as he talked, and when the poem passed he continued through the story, letting his music be the background.

Hopefully it was less annoying that way.

He wasn’t about to offer this perfect family a fillingless pie.

As he finally lay down to sleep though, he quite felt like a fillingless pie himself. Ciri and Yennefer had once again bedded down in the magic tent and Geralt was rolled up in his bedroll in his tent, across the barely glowing fire. Jaskier lay awake.

His bedroll was thin and his ribs fairly ached with hunger, but Geralt had said they were but a day away from a town. Jaskier could buy supplies there, he still had a little coin, and that way he wouldn’t use up the others’ food.

He could play in the town too, earn more coin. They wouldn’t stay there, he knew, not with half the continent searching for a white haired witcher and his child surprise. But the others needed supplies too, and Yennefer said she had enough magic for a small glamor to hide Geralt and Ciri’s hair and her eyes.

Jaskier settled in for the night. Earning coin made him useful, and therefore not a burden, so he would earn coin.

He made a list in his head of things he should buy to prepare for the trek up to Kaer Morhen. Gloves, his only pair had worn out last year. A thicker cloak, his was practically threadbare. Grapeseed and linseed oil. One for the beard he was growing and the other for his lute. New lute strings.

He rolled over on his bedroll, trying to avoid the root digging into his spine. He’d need to make quite a bit of money. He wasn’t sure he’d be able too. It wasn’t safe to sing about the white wolf, not too much, or someone might recognize him as himself, rather than just some bard singing Jaskier’s songs.

Country ditties then, but they made less money. It wasn’t just his supplies he needed to buy, either. Jaskier didn’t want to just not be a burden, he wanted to help.

They would all need thicker clothes and lots of food to make it to Kaer Morhen. He wasn’t a good hunter so he could really only help by supplying money to buy what they needed. He had little right now, and he felt shame rise in him. He’d had no way of knowing he’d meet up with Geralt and his child surprise, but if he hadn’t drunk so much of his money than he could be a better help.

He could sell his lute.

The thought came into his mind like a knife, and it turned his stomache. He could sell his lute, but the beautiful girl was the only physical thing he had to remind him of Geralt. Filavandrel’s lute. It would be worth a fortune, of course. Elven made, everyone knew they made the best instruments.

It was just...he couldn’t bear the thought of letting the lute go. He loved how she played, loved the memories he had. He knew the story behind every shallow scratch and scuff, and who could love her the same? And when the danger was passed and Geralt never had to see him again, what would Jaskier have then? A handful of memories, turned bittersweet, then bitter. Nothing concrete. He’d go back to Oxenfurt, maybe even Lettenhove. And there would be nothing for him to hold to remind him.

He couldn’t sell his lute.

The thought ate at him as he tried to sleep though. He had in his hands the means to help them all so much, and he was too selfish to do so.

Sleep eventually claimed him, and he dreamt of a mountain, wind whipping about his ears and carrying words to him.

Shit shoveler. Burden. If life could give me one blessing...

He awoke sore and badly rested, tears dried on his face.

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@frywen-babbles

#the witcher #geraskier #found family #fanfic #Yennefer #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #Kaer Morhen #not yet but soon #angst #angst with a happy ending #but also not yet #Yennefer is a good mom #sad jaskier #emotional whump #emotionally constipated Geralt of rivia #emotionally consitpated everybody #geralt/jaskier

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elindae-writes · 3 years ago

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oH! While Soundwave is being streamed for 10 hours- people are constantly donating to get a reaction. 1/3 are simping for him, 1/3 are trolling him and Megatron, and 1/3 are asking him to make an asmr twitch stream since he makes nice typing noises. Megatron would get jealous. "SOUNdwaVe why are MY followers giving YOU money??" "Its still your stream. you get the mone-" "I THOUGHT YOU WERE LOYAL TO ME. FOLLOWERS GIVE ME MONEY" its just a close up to his teeth with Soundwave sighing in the bg

A continuation of this riveting tale

sounders you're so hawwwwt

"FALSE. MY FRAME'S TEMPERATURE IS NOMINAL."

The door is kicked open. Soundwave, without even looking, instantly tosses the camera into a potted plant on his desk. Megatron emerges into the room. His optics rove over everywhere and he drags both his servos down his helm as he lets out a shuddering vent.

"soundwave. sound. wave. who was i talking to for the past 13 hours?"

Soundwave is very silent. Megatron is not.

"SOUNDWAVE. WHO WAS I TALKING TO? i did not spend that much time sketching out the Betrayal of Orion only to just show it to an audience of zero!"

He tosses a sketchpad onto the surface of Soundwave's desk. Soundwave can make out the outlines of a very sketchy and very evilly-grinning Orion looming over a distraught Megatronus. There's a cheerful sun drawn in the corner.

The computer pings. They all look at it.

NEW DONATION: 50$ FROM MEGAN RON

"my followers!" Megatron gasps. "they support me! soundwave. you're raking in cash?"

"THEY ARE DONATING, YES--"

"SOUNDWAVE! i need that money! my primus! those little scraps of green paper belong in these talons!"

"IT IS ALL GOING DIRECTLY TO YOUR ACCOUNT--"

"i have purchases that i need to make"

The stream's viewer count has leaped by another million.

"...PURCHASES?"

"i am investing. it's something humans do. i am trying to acquire more human currency."

The sound of chair wheels trundling across the ground echoes through the room. Starscream rolls over in his chair and twists around to sit in it backwards. He smugly rests his chin on his crossed arms. "Oh? And what is it that you're investing in, my Lord?"

Megatron smiles and smirks. "beanie babies"

Starscream clicks his tongue. "Goodness. A brilliant decision."

A sharp scccrratch noise pierces the air. Soundwave is now tightly gripping his desk with both his servos and has just left two series of clawmarks on the surface. Curls of desk paint are on his digit tips.

"MY LORD. MY LORD. WHY?"

Megatron nods. "yes. these are of some worth." Megatron pulls a small plush platypus out of his chestplate armor and holds it between his thumb and pointer finger. The plushie's pink sequined tail glints and flops in the dim light.

Soundwave flinches and the desk shudders as a result. The camera tips over.

"these are of some apparent worth. i wonder what i shall buy with this creature. perhaps a politician or two." The platypus slips out of Megatron's digits and lands in his leg armor. "ah. i will find her again later."

"̷̜̀W̶͍͂H̸̨̏Y̶͘͜ ̶͈̉H̷͍͋A̸̗͂V̷͍̏Ḛ̵͑ ̴̫͘Ȳ̶̘O̷̬̕Û̷͉ ̶̖͊D̴̳̽O̴̫͋Ṋ̷̈́E̸̠͂ ̷̭͌T̶͈̀H̷̼̆Ì̵͕S̷̨͑?̴̻̀"̵͗

"what did you just say, soundwave?"

Starscream hums and bounces on his chair.

"you sounded a bit gargled. t'was a wise investment, i think. a streamer instructed me to do it. she showed me the 'e-bay' and everything. she said it would help me get a 'nest egg' one day, whatever that is."

"...WHO?"

Soundwave glances at the unfortunately still-recording camera now sat upon his Scotch Moss potted plant.

"her username was R16HT4UL_L34D3R_0F_TH3_D3C3PT1C0NZ. what an odd thing to name a child."

Starscream sticks one of his legs out and lightly kicks the floor over and over again, making his squeaky office chair spin around and around in a circle. The smug smile does not leave his faceplate.

Soundwave is going to make it leave.

Soft squeaking noises echo through the room. Five new Beanie Babies have fallen from Megatron's armor and onto the floor next to Megatron's pedes.

"fuck," he mutters as he scoops them up.

Soundwave shoots to his pedes and lunges at Starscream.

Starscream shrieks and runs.

There's a soft gasp. "oh," Megatron says. He grabs his camera off the moss. "wait. this is streaming. so if this is the real camera, then what did starscream give me?"

Finally! Megatron would now realize Starscream's deception!

"huh. he must have found a second camera! i now have two cameras to stream with" Megatron holds them both simultaneously and points them at his faceplate. "i shall have one record my face and my back at all times. the streamers can therefore watch my back for me! ha."

The stream records Soundwave's despondent form crouched over a fallen pink plush platypus.

#mcprime universe #megatron #soundwave #starscream #beanie baby investment time #laserbeak would LOVE beanie babies oh my primus #bitcoin? no. gold? nah. silver? uhhh no. BEANIE BABIES? bitch sign me the fuck up

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dvixiecups · 3 years ago

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"Go go go go!" Osamu shouted as gunfire rained down on the pair, their backs to a flaming building.

It was a classic case of a mission gone awry, the two's incessant bickering alerting half the building of their presence during their "quiet" escape.

"It's your fault we're doing this in the first place! No we're gonna be here for so much longer," Chuuya snapped, his powerful legs quickly closing the distance between him and a random car parked on the curb.

Thoughtlessly, he smashed open the window while Osamu looped around the car, smashing the opposite window. The two quickly pulled the car doors open from the inside, slipping in and shutting the doors with a slam. Chuuya reached in front of him to begin the hot wiring process.

"Wrong side!" Osamu sang, his hands playing with the wires under the wheel.

"Hey! Let me drive you bastard!"

"No can do, we're out of time. Besides it's not like you could reach the pedals anyway," Osamu chuckled, slamming his foot on the gas as their pursuers hopped onto moterbikes.

Chuuya glared at Osamu's irritatingly smug face, ignoring the ear splitting shatter of bullets against the back window.

"You suck ass at driving! If those guys don't kill us, you will!" Chuuya shouted just before he was thrown against the car due to a sharp spin of the wheel.

"Yea well you drive like a grandma! Remember when you stopped at a stop sign while we were being chased?"

"There was a cat in the middle of the road! We're mafia, not heartless! I mean at least I can turn without the car going on two wheels."

"How is that a good thing? Where's the fun in having all wheels on the ground?" Osamu punctuated his point by drifting down an allyway, slowing down their followers just a little, "okay now shoot at them, it's a narrow road even you can't miss."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Chuuya pulled a handful of bullets out of his pocket, leaning out the passenger window and throwing them behind the car.

Rubber squealed as bullets punctered the tires of the bikes, sending their drivers careening into one another. Chuuya silently congratulated himself.

"Don't get too happy, we're still far from headquarters," Osamu nudged at Chuuya with his free hand, the car weaving down the empty road.

"If we even make it that far in this coffin on wheels," Chuuya gritted, his arms braced on the center console and door respectively.

"Awh, have a little more faith in me chibikko," Osamu pouted, the car flying over a speed bump, sending the riders and any object not nailed down flying.

A sudden bubble of air forced it's way out of Chuuya, alerting him of the nausea which had been lingering in his gut since entering this death trap. He clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked at the sudden intense feeling.

"Holy shit," he hiccuped, "Your piss-poor driving actually made me fucking carsick."

"That sounds like a you problem," Osamu retorted, turning away from the road to smirk at his passenger.

"It's gonna be an us problem when I puke on your smug ass."

Osamu's smile dropped.

"You wouldn't dare."

Chuuya fake gagged at the driver, eliciting a scream out of the latter. The car swerved precariously as Osamu took his hands off the wheel in favor of pushing Chuuya away.

"Dude! Keep your hands on the fucking wheel," Chuuya cried, using his hand to supress a gag.

"Keep your stomach in your fucking stomach!"

Seething, Chuuya turned away, instead trying to distract himself with the horizon.

"Just, drive a little softer... please," he requested, voice faint and genuine, completely unlike his usual tone.

Ignoring him, Osamu pressed down on the pedal faster- opting to arrive at the center of the city before Chuuya had a chance to get sick. Chuuya's mouth was downturned, his arms hugging his midsection.

His plan worked, as they usually do, and the car came to a squealing stop outside the main building. A man in a suit was waiting for them. Stepping out of the car, Osamu rested his head on the car roof to prompt the member.

"Boss would like to speak with you," he informed, deadpan.

Osamu cursed under his breath, already knowing what the meeting would be adressing. Putting on a smile, he drummed the top of the car, avoiding where bullets had sharpened the car.

"Well you heard him! We should go, it's bad to keep the boss waiting."

Chuuya groaned, the world still spinning around him as Osamu pulled him onto his feet and towards the familiar buidling. The former knew better than to protest, having experienced Ougai's silent rage towards whoever leaves the boss expectant. That feeling of shame was far worse than the nausea fiercely gripping his stomach.

The elevator ride was a living hell, Chuuya's stomach remaining on the first floor as the rest of his body travelled up. Seeing the city grow smaller through the glass walls was vertigo inducing, a feeling Chuuya had never felt even when meters in the air using his ability. Maybe it was due to the lack on control. When using his ability or driving, Chuuya never experienced a problem akin to this. Closing his eyes didn't help, the neverending movement only playing against his eyelids like a shitty projector.

After a truly painfully long time, the elevator stopped with a ding, it's doors opening slowly. Trying to present himself as best as possible, Chuuya crossed the threshold and into the boss' office with a straight back and one step ahead of Osamu.

His jaw was clenched at this point, respect and fear for the boss being the only thing holding his lunch in place. What would happen when that wore off? When the nausea came to a breaking point which loomed like a wave, large and close to break, what would Chuuya do then?

He didn't have long to ponder this, his body lurched forward before even being able to adress Ougai. Appauled with his bodys betrayal, Chuuya apologized. Osamu side eyed him, before speaking with Ougai.

"You called us?" Osamu prompted.

"I did. What happened today?"

"Someone," Osamu nodded towards Chuuya who was struggling to hold himself upright, "got too offended by a joke and started yelling."

"Oh, as if it's," he paused to stifle a burp, "my fault!"

"And how did that happen?" Ougai motioned towards Chuuya.

"This bastard never learned how to drive!" A retch tailed his statement, much to Chuuya's horror.

Osamu stepped away silently and Chuuya fell to his knees, hands in fists against the floor.

"And he never learned how to handle a couple bumps and turns!"

"Shut. Up," Chuuya demanded through his teeth, eyes closed with concentration.

The guards shifted uncomfortably across the room.

"Help him to the restroom," Ougai commanded, staring Osamu in the eye.

"What!" He all but yelled, "why me? He can crawl there himself!"

"Osamu. Now."

Scowling at Ougai, Osamu grimaced down at Chuuya before offering his hand.

"Is this," Chuuya paused to swallow down his nausea, "our punishment?"

"Only if you look at it that way," Ougai responded as Chuuya reluctantly look Osamu's hand.

Chuuya was able to hold his composure- or what shreds were left of his composure- until the pair made it into the hallway.

"If you puke on me I will put dried shit in all of your cigarettes," Osamu threatened through clenched teeth.

"Don't tempt me," Chuuya retorted through similarly clenched teeth. It's not that he wanted to get sick on his "partner" but the odds really weren't in his favor right now. Plus, it's not like Osamu didn't deserve it.

As soon as the bathrooms came into view, Chuuya peeled himself out of Osamu's hold and stumbled over to one of the sinks. Planting his hands firmly on the basin, he allowed his upped back to arch with a heave.

"You're disgusting," Osamu stated plainly from the entryway.

"Like you're," he gagged openly, "one to talk."

"At least I'm not retching like a cat choking on a hairball!"

"At least my hair doesn't look like an overgrown sewer rat wearing dollar hair extentions!"

"Oh hoh hoh, YOU'RE one to talk about hair."

"The hell is that supposed to me-"

His head was still facing towards Osamu when a final gag brought up a mouthful of sick.

Both their eyes went wide as they registered what had just took place. Osamu was mortified, looking at the splatters of illness on his finely polished shoes.

"Awh fuck! Go back over the sink!" Osamu jumped into the hair.

"Shut u-" a burp over took his threat, leaving his attempt at enounciation sounding more like a frog.

Another, far heavier wave came out, splashing messily into the sink basin. His fingers were dirtied with the foul substance, it's smell permeating the small room.

"This is your fucking fault you overrated, bland ass, one man Romeo and Juliet remake.

"You're buying me new shoes."

"Fat chance, JD"

#sick chuuya nakahara #vomit tw #bungou stray dogs sickfic

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umbry-fic · 3 years ago

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Just a Sunny Day for You

Summary: On the final day of Summer Break, Hikari and Tairitsu spend a completely normal day together.

Fandom: Arcaea Characters: Hikari, Tairitsu Relationships: Hikari/Tairitsu, Hikari & Tairitsu Rating: T Word Count: 5218 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 15/03/2021

Notes+Warnings: Brief mentions of blood. Spoiler warning for the main story up until Black Fate. May deviate from any story packs released after Black Fate.

AU fic that has fluffy moments and... other stuff. Title from Yorushika's song.

~~~

The heat caused the air to shimmer before Tairitsu’s eyes, the cawing of crows echoing in her ears. She sighed from where she was kneeling on the sidewalk and pulled out yet another corner of the slice of bread she had gripped in her hand, throwing the crumb down at the feet of the crows that gathered around her. If someone walked by now, they’d surely give her weird looks. A girl dressed to the nines feeding crows alone was a strange sight. But the air was devoid of the slap of shoes against pavement or the rumbling of wheels against asphalt.

Sweat ran down her face as the heat pressed oppressively down on her. Not even the parasol that she had propped open above her head did much to shield her from the angry afternoon sun, hanging high up in the sky.

How long more was Hikari going to take? Tairitsu felt like she would melt if she remained in the open any longer. Not to mention how icky her hair felt now, matted with sweat and clinging to her scalp, a few stray strands sticking to her brow that she had to keep tucking away. The hair she had neatly combed and tied her black ribbons through, adorned with light blue roses, was surely ruined now.

The thought itself made her scowl. She’d put in so much effort, and the weather was ruining everything.

“Tai!”

The familiar peppy voice and sound of footsteps from behind her caused the murder of crows to take off, blotting out the sun for a split second with a cloud of black feathers. Staring up into the sky with a sense of loss she couldn’t explain, Tairitsu stood up, brushing any remaining crumbs off the ruffles of her dress.

“You’re late,” she muttered, picking up the parasol and twirling the wooden handle as she turned to face Hikari. Inexplicably, the crows had all disappeared. She couldn’t spot a single one anymore - not on the rooftops of the shops that lined the street, not on the curb, not on the street lamps. They were just all gone.

Hikari looked quite different from the last time she’d seen her. The white sleeveless T-shirt with a bear print on the front, blue denim shorts, flip-flops and low pigtails presented quite a different picture from the pure white school blouse and skirt, pink jacket, covered shoes and ponytail. It was a complete transformation from formal student to casual teenager.

Tairitsu found both… What was the right word to describe it? Adorable, in the same way a silly hamster would be.

“I know you’re late for every committee meeting, but I thought you’d make it on time today,” Tairitsu continued, hoping her immense disappointment was being expressed. Honestly, if she wasn’t meeting up with Hikari, she would have left long ago for having wasted her time.

“I’m so sorry, Tai. I didn’t forget! I just underestimated the amount of time the bus would take on the expressway…” Hikari apologised, bowing her head.

“You forgot to account for the traffic jams, didn’t you?” Typical Hikari.

“Yeah. Sorry. But I only made you wait for fifteen minutes! That’s not bad.” Hikari retorted, pumping her arms in the air.

“Any extra time spent in the sun is enough to kill me,” she replied drily. Gah, the fabric of her multi-layered dress was sticking to her skin. It felt disgusting.

“Don’t you think that’s your fault?” Hikari joked, moving closer and touching the pleated capelet covering Tairitsu’s shoulders, which was on the same level as Hikari’s nose. “I know you like dolls, but wearing a dress with this many ruffles and wearing tights for a summer’s day out is suicide, even if I will admit you look very pretty. Though you’re always pretty. But the umbrella is just overkill.”

“F - funny that you would say that when you’re still wearing that same stupid hat,” Tairitsu bit back. “And it’s a parasol, not an umbrella. Learn the difference.” She willed herself not to blush as she fixated on the word “pretty”. Did Hikari truly think that? She’d dressed up in this outfit she’d hand-made to get rid of the drab school uniform, but did Hikari think she was pretty in that too…?

How did Hikari say something like that so absent-mindedly? She looked like she’d already forgotten the words had ever left her mouth, smiling in a carefree manner, pink eyes sparkling with merriment.

“Hey!” Hikari put her hands on the top of her red beret protectively, shooting Tairitsu a glare with no heat behind it at all. “I will let you know I like this hat.”

“Hard to tell when you wear it every second of every day.”

“Let’s get going. Alright?” Hikari grabbed her hand, tugging her along and causing her to stumble a few steps forward. Had she not picked up on the sarcasm at all? “We’re never going to get to the beach at this rate.”

“I hate sand,” Tairitsu sniffed, resisting the urge to grip Hikari’s hand tighter. Her palm was so soft, and her fingers so agile. “It gets everywhere, and it’s going to ruin this dress.”

“But you still agreed to come.” Hikari grinned mischievously, shielding her eyes with her free hand. “The sun really is glaring today, huh?”

Wordlessly, Tairitsu adjusted her grip on the parasol so it cast its shadow mostly over Hikari. All she was doing was preventing the complaints that would surely leave Hikari’s mouth. Yes, that was all.

“Let’s end summer break with a bang!” Hikari yelled, waving her arm in the air with that undying enthusiasm she always held.

Today promised to be… interesting.

~~~

The soft, elegant tap of Tairitsu’s boots against the concrete as she walked with slow, deliberate strides of the same length clashed with the loud, erratic slap of Hikari’s flip-flops. Hikari didn’t have the same qualms about keeping a regular step, skipping down the pavement and humming under her breath. Occasionally, she’d return to the shade of Tairitsu’ parasol before jumping out into the open again, twirling with careless abandon.

Tairitsu would normally have been annoyed. The sun had only gotten more intense, and she hated unnecessarily loud people. They broke her bubble of concentration, shattered the peace she valued.

But she was too occupied noting the way the stray strands of Hikari’s hair fluttered through the air as she danced down the street. Their numbers were increasing by the second as her pigtails fell apart from the sheer force of her movement.

The joyful smile on Hikari’s face was too distracting. Tairitsu couldn’t get angry right now, too busy soaking in the warmth Hikari exuded. She was like a tiny starburst of energy, but the light she emitted wasn’t overpowering or destructive like a supernova. It was uplifting, for Tairitsu could never feel tired when Hikari was nearby, but it was also soothing, like any wound could be healed in her presence…

“Ooh! Look at it, Tai! It’s so pretty!”

Hikari paused in the middle of posing like a crane, arms raised to form a straight line level with her shoulder and right leg lifted for balance. Her face lit up as she caught sight of something in a nearby display case, and she ran down the sidewalk to press her face up against it.

Taking advantage of Hikari’s momentary pause to finally catch up to her, Tairitsu did a cursory once-over of the contents of the display case. Standing inside were various mannequins displaying the shop’s wares, which consisted of every style of outfit imaginable. There was a cute dress adorned with ribbons and a bow tie, accompanied by an asymmetrical jacket that flowed out behind it. There was a crop top not unlike the designer shirt Hikari wore now, paired with a pink skirt and belt. There was also a simple but elegant pink dress, patterned with flowers at the bottom.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tairitsu spotted a white, tiered dress with light pink carnations attached with a jacket thrown over it. Swallowing in her suddenly dry mouth, she turned to see the outfit that Hikari was busy ogling.

It was one of the shop’s summer wear - a white shirt with short, frilled sleeves with a ribbon attached to it, a blue, pleated skirt and a white overskirt.

“I think it’d look cute on you,” Tairitsu commented, closing her eyes and imagining the outfit on Hikari. She would look like a short princess. “All outfits would, with your lack of dedication to proper posture.”

Hikari giggled, spinning in another circle. How she wasn’t dizzy by now, Tairitsu would never know. “It’d be so fun to twirl in! Could you imagine the skirts just spinning around you? It’d be such a pretty sight!”

“Would it? I feel like you’d just become an indistinguishable blur of blue and white.”

“Oh.” Hikari stopped mid-spin, pondering. “I guess I would. But still, I’d like to try it at least once.”

“Well, would you like to go in and buy it?”

“Ah, no, it’s fine. I’m not going to make you go in. I know you hate mirrors, and they’re all over clothes shops.”

Focussing on her reflection in the display case, all Tairitsu could see was her pale face, scrunched brow and blue eyes holding just a hint of fear.

The surface of the display case shimmered, and she looked away.

“I doubt there’s an attendant in there anyway,” Hikari muttered. “There’s no one around.”

Tairitsu blinked, scanning the street to verify Hikari’s words. She was right. All the shopfronts appeared to be shuttered - even the display case they were currently in front of was dark. Behind the row of roofs she could see, there was nothing but a cloudless blue sky, a single shade of blue that spanned her entire view. There were no high-rise buildings to be seen looming impressively over the shops, nor was there any sign of life apart from two crows perched on a street lamp. Not a single soul, apart from them, populated the streets.

There was an almost unnerving silence. Not even cicadas could be heard chirping.

How had she not noticed this before?

“It’s the last day of summer break. All the students must be preparing for school, so the shops decided not to open.” That was a reasonable explanation, right?

“That makes sense! Whatever Tai says is always right!”

“I’m not an omniscient God, Hikari,” Tairitsu scoffed, happy that Hikari had affirmed her guess. “And how did you know I don’t like mirrors?” It’s not like she declared that fact to the world or made it super obvious. She didn’t run screaming from every reflective surface, that wasn’t practical and was far too dramatic for her tastes. She just actively avoided looking into them for longer than necessary.

“You tell me.”

“Huh?” Tairitsu turned to look at Hikari, confused as to whether she had heard correctly. That had seemed almost hostile.

But Hikari only smiled sheepishly, knocking herself on the head with her fist. “Sorry, messed up the words there. I meant to say that you were the one who told me! How else would I know?”

“Right,” Tairitsu muttered, the knot that had formed in her chest loosening just a little. It was simply a silly mistake Hikari had made. But she had no memory of ever telling her this. Searching back yielded nothing.

“I wonder why. Maybe you’re a vampire, Tai!” Hikari said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Vampires don’t exist, stupid. It would be nice if I was one. Then I could just sit around every night in elegant outfits,” Tairitsu replied, taking another step forward and hoping Hikari would follow. She didn’t want to spend another second in front of the display case. She couldn’t explain why apart from the growing sense of unease in her heart.

“That would be very much like you!” Hikari laughed, falling into step next to Tairitsu, thankfully. Instead of rushing ahead as she had before, Hikari instead hung by Tairitsu’s side, staring up at her with wide eyes.

“Is there something you want? If it’s the dress, I can make one that’s as close as possible for you. But it won’t be ready by the end of today.”

“No, that’s not it, though it would be nice if you did that for me.” Hikari grinned, a sight that warmed her heart every time she saw it. “I was going to ask you what homework we have.”

Tairitsu sighed. “You haven’t done it, right? Even though today’s the last day of summer break. When were you planning on doing it? On your way to school tomorrow?”

Hikari grimaced, shrugging. “Maybe? So, uh, would you mind telling me what we owe the teachers? I didn’t note it down.”

Tairitsu searched through her mind, clinging on to the notion of “homework”. But instead of alighting upon the memories, she reached only a plain of blankness. “I… I don’t remember.”

“But you’ve always had the homework perfectly memorised!”

“I finished it in the first week, so it probably slipped my mind since I didn’t need to remember it anymore.”

“Aw, you’re too model of a student! Ah, but it means I can’t rely on you now! That’s terrible, Tai! Why would you do this to me?”

Tairitsu let out a breath she didn’t even realise she was holding. Things still made sense. But the words “why would you do this to me” echoed in her head, refusing to disappear. What was this vice gripped around her heart? “It’s your fault for being so absent-minded in the first place, Hikari. Don’t blame me.”

It wasn’t her fault.

As they continued their trek towards the beach, Tairitsu sneaked a glance back at the shopfront. The two crows she had spotted earlier had landed before the display case, staring back at her with beady black eyes. Somehow, the dress that had been tucked away into a corner was now front and centre, illuminated by a red spotlight. It turned the white of the dress to a bloody red, giving the illusion of a garish wound and dripping blood.

Dread settled in the pit of Tairitsu’s stomach and she deflected her gaze back to Hikari’s bright face. She was aimlessly chattering on about the most mundane of topics, a much-needed bout of normalcy after the strangeness of the last few minutes.

She needed to stop imagining things and get her head back in the game. Today was a day to be enjoyed, not soured by the dreadful terrors her mind was conjuring up.

It wouldn’t be fair to Hikari.

It wouldn’t…

~~~

“Here’s yours, Tai!” Hikari handed over one of the two popsicles she had bought from the nearby vending machine. It was wrapped in pastel pink packaging with the word “cherry” emblazoned across it in capital letters and the company’s font.

The two of them had finally made it past the shopping street and emerged onto the bridge that overlooked the ocean. It was low tide right now, the azure waves lazily lapping onto the cheerful yellow sand and leaving behind trails of playful foam. The gentle breeze brushed through Tairitsu’s hair, tickling her neck and refreshing her spirits. She was perfectly content to just lean against the railing and watch the diamonds of light that the sun’s rays left on the ocean, licking the blood-red cherry popsicle in her hand and relishing the strong aftertaste on her tongue. She’d seen this very sight countless times, but she would never get tired of the ocean’s beauty.

Hikari would drag her down to the beach at some point. That’s just something her fun-loving friend would do. Maybe they’d even get down to building sandcastles or something inane like that.

Sand would get everywhere. She’d never manage to get it out of her clothes.

If it was Hikari, she’d be willing to do it.

For now, though, she could just relax and avoid dripping melted ice-cream on her clothes.

“Cherry’s boring, don’t you think?” Hikari spoke up, waving her yet unopened popsicle in the air. Hers had forest green packaging, and Tairitsu could barely make out the words “bamboo” as the letters blurred in the air.

“I’m not going to listen to someone who bought bamboo-flavoured ice cream. Why do the vending machines even stock them? It’s a disgusting flavour!”

“Don’t mock bamboo! It’s amazing!” Hikari scowled, ripping open her package at the top and giving the popsicle a good lick. “As you can see from the contents of the dustbin, people clearly agree with me!”

The dustbin Hikari was pointing at was overflowing with empty popsicle packages. All of them were either forest green or pastel pink, matching the crumpled packages in their hands.

Did everyone here only eat cherry and bamboo flavour? How… how odd.

The frown on Tairitsu’s face only deepened as she noticed the bamboo packages were ripped open at the top, while the cherry packages were ripped open at the sides. It was the exact same way Hikari and Tairitsu had opened theirs.

There was a niggling thought at the back of her mind that Tairitsu couldn’t quite pin down. She didn't know if she wanted to.

Wrestling the packages from Tairitsu’s clenched fist, Hikari threw the empty packages into the endless pile in the dustbin. Tairitsu stood motionless, melted ice-cream dripping onto the floor, stuck in a trance until Hikari grabbed her hand.

“Come on! Let’s go down to the beach.”

“Ah, yes, let’s.” Tairitsu let herself be led, telling herself to stop worrying so much. There was nothing wrong. Maybe the vending machine only sold two flavours. Yes, that had to be it. There were only two ways to open popsicle packages anyway. It wasn’t that strange.

Everything was fine.

Hikari kicked off her flip-flops, both flying through the air and one landing nearly a metre from her original position, before running across the sand barefoot, screaming in joy.

Tairitsu slowly sat down on the sand, crossing her legs and watching Hikari with a tired smile as she finished her popsicle. That childish, carefree energy was being radiated in full force now. Hopefully, it would be enough to make her forget about everything else.

There were faint footprints in the sand, going round and round in wild circles, much like Hikari was doing right now. Tairitsu wondered who else had been here.

It didn’t take long for Hikari to lose steam, stumbling over to Tairitsu with a grin on her face. She plopped down next to Tairitsu, panting slightly, a light sheen of sweat shimmering on her forehead. With no warning, Hikari leaned her head on Tairitsu’s shoulder, sighing.

Tairitsu went ramrod-straight, heart skipping a beat at their proximity. The closest she had ever been to Hikari was… when Hikari held her hand. No other part of them had touched for more than a second, and there was always at least a hand’s width between them.

Tairitsu had never been one for physical contact. She wasn’t one to hand out hugs or accept them easily. Being in the embrace of another made her feel vulnerable. Hikari knew that, which was why she limited herself around Tairitsu. She didn’t jump on Tairitsu from behind and wrap her arms around her, or touch her face, or lean on her.

Tairitsu had gotten curious. How would Hikari’s warmth feel, if she could touch it? She had begun to yearn but didn’t know how to tell Hikari such an embarrassing request. She had simply let the desire simmer within her, never to be brought up.

Now… Hikari must be really tired to forget. She was always conscious of Tairitsu’s boundaries.

But it was better than Tairitsu could have ever imagined. Hikari’s ponytails were brushing against her arm, and Hikari’s hair was softer than she’d thought. Hikari’s weight, pressed against her side, was comforting. Tairitsu wouldn’t mind if this continued. Or if it happened more.

An image flashed across her mind, of cradling Hikari in her arms. But that had never happened.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hikari shifted away, yawning with a wide mouth. “With the extra centimetres you have on me, you’re the perfect height for leaning on. I forgot I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Why are you so tired? You stayed up all night watching dramas again, didn’t you?” Tairitsu teased. How could she tell Hikari that… she, um… wanted her to do that again?

How did people do this?

“Yeah.”

“I… Um, I don’t mind,” Tairitsu muttered, looking down at her lap. “You can sleep… here. I mean. On me.”

“Oh. Oh, really?” Hikari brightened. “It’s fine if you don’t want to.”

“It really is fine. If - um, if you want to sleep, then you can… you can use my lap?” Her cheeks were warm by now, and she’d turned into a stuttering mess. It was more comfortable, right? She just wanted Hikari to feel comfortable.

“Like this?” Hikari slowly lowered her head onto Tairitsu’s lap, shifting until she had found the best position - cheek pillowed against Tairitsu’s dress and facing Tairitsu. “You’re sure you’re OK with this? I don’t mind just going to sit on a bench or something.”

“Perfectly fine!” Damn it, even her ears felt warm now.

“Thanks.” Hikari’s voice was already turning softer, eyes fluttering closed. Within seconds, her breathing had evened out and a dreamy smile had appeared on her face.

Her heart was beating so fast that Tairitsu felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She was holding herself absolutely still, terrified that if she moved, Hikari was going to be shaken awake. She looked so peaceful like this. Tairitsu couldn’t bear to disrupt her rest.

Gingerly, Tairitsu reached out a hand, only to pause a centimetre away from Hikari’s hair. She really, really wanted to run her hands through it.

Why not? Hikari was asleep. It’s not like she ever needed to know.

Gently, she pulled Hikari’s hair out of its pigtails and pulled her beret off, pushing it into the crook of her arm before beginning to stroke her hair. Delighted at its lack of knots, she continued her arm’s motions, making sure to keep it slow to avoid startling Hikari.

Tairitsu contemplated pressing a kiss onto those curly ringlets, but decided that was a bit too much.

The rhythmic motion, Hikari’s steady breaths, and the wind against her skin made Tairitsu feel like closing her eyes as well. The day and all its strange oddities had stressed her out and drained her energy.

She closed her eyes for just a moment, and when she opened them again, the sun was barely above the horizon. The sky was no longer blue, but a mixture of orange, pinks and purples. Hikari was still sleeping peacefully in her lap, but the wind had gotten stronger. The waves were larger now, having crept up the shore, and were slapping down against the sand with a much more audible crash.

The two crows, who Tairitsu somehow knew were the same ones from before, were now standing on the sand. They were still watching her, almost as if they were waiting. But waiting for what?

How has this much time passed? She didn’t feel like she’d fallen asleep. She didn’t feel anymore well-rested than before. So how…

Under the sunset, Hikari’s hair looked almost red. Just like the dress in the display case, it gave the illusion of blood. Pulling her hand back, Tairitsu stared down at it.

It was drenched in red as well, every finger dripping blood onto the sand below.

No, no, no! It had to be a stupid illusion. She shook her hand, closing her eyes. It would be gone once she opened them again.

But the blood was still there. Her fingers curled as she tried to comprehend what was going on.

“You stopped.” Hikari’s flat, disappointed voice reached Tairitsu’s ears, and she looked down to find that Hikari had shifted so the back of her head rested in Tairitsu’s lap. Her expression was unreadable, a stark contrast from the usually open and cheery face.

“You’re awake?” Tairitsu tried her best to hide the tremor in her voice. Hikari didn’t need to know.

She didn’t need to know anything. It was safe as long as everything remained under control.

Hikari didn’t answer her question, only pushed herself upright and turned to look at the sunset, not facing Tairitsu. “The sun’s setting. That means the day’s over.”

“You know I have to go, right?” Hikari’s voice echoed in her mind despite her having never said those words aloud. But Tairitsu knew. She knew.

“You don’t need to go just yet! Or even if you do, I’ll see you again tomorrow! Summer break will be over, but we’ll still see each other in school again!” Tairitsu’s voice cracked, her desperation spilling through as she did her very best to grasp at the unravelling threads before her. The wind had picked up even more, howling around her ears as day turned to night. She had to scream to be heard, breath quickening as panic infused her heart.

Hikari still wouldn’t face her.

“What do you even know of school, Tairitsu? You’ve never been.”

Not Tai. Tairitsu.

Don’t say it. Don’t say my name. Don’t tell me!

“What are you talking about? Silly little Hikari. We’ve been friends forever! We attend the same school. Are you only half-awake?”

“...”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Because I’m not really here, Tairitsu.”

It was at this moment that Hikari finally turned around. Tairitsu stumbled back at the sight of her, struggling to get her breathing under control at the horror that faced her.

Hikari’s image shimmered like the display case had, warping with every second - the familiar property that every piece of Arcaea had. There were what appeared to be fault lines along her front where her features didn’t quite match up, like a broken mirror. The two sides of her face weren’t aligned. The clothes she was wearing and her hairstyle flickered and changed with every second until they became an indistinguishable kaleidoscope of colour. The only thing that stayed constant was Hikari’s face, misaligned as it was, and her lack of a beret, which Tairitsu had dropped onto the sand.

“Don’t you remember? This world you created that’s so fake, you can’t even convince yourself it’s real? Don’t you remember what you did with your very own hand?” With each word, Hikari’s sneer only deepened, as she took step after step towards Tairitsu, who was frozen in place. Her pink eyes seemed to darken until they resembled red - the red of that one shard, the red staining Hikari’s beret on the sand, the red dripping from her hand endlessly.

Images flashed through her mind, quick as flashes of lightning. The Arcaea she had rained down on Hikari without mercy. Hikari pleading for them to stop and come to a peaceful resolution.

The final shard that had pierced through Hikari’s defences, silencing her for good.

“No…” Tairitsu whispered, covering her face with her hands and screwing her eyes shut as she sunk onto her knees. The red smeared onto her face, going everywhere. It was everywhere. She could never escape it. “It’s not… I… I didn’t want to…”

“How many times have you done this, Tairitsu? Hmm? How many times have you gone through this hopeless cycle, hoping to get a different ending?” Hikari was standing in front of her now, continuing to mock her. She pried Tairitsu’s hands away from her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Except it didn’t feel like a kiss to Tairitsu. It felt like sharp glass cutting her forehead as pain radiated from the spot Hikari had touched.

How many times had she done this? How many times had she desperately tried to improve on this world, drawing from the memories she saw in the Arcaea while stripping the misery out of them, in the hopes that it would finally be perfect, that she could finally lose herself in this fabricated world and never have to know the truth? How many different outfits had Hikari gone through, how many popsicles had they gone through, how many times had they ended up at this beach?

Only for it to always end in the same way. Why?

It still wasn’t good enough. That had to be why.

“Don’t you think it’s time to wake up?” Hikari whispered in her ear, cradling her face for just a moment before letting go. Even with the stinging pain, Tairitsu could do nothing but yearn for more. More contact. More. More, more, more.

Tairitsu snapped her eyes open, frantically raising her head and reaching out. “Don’t go -”

But there was no one in front of her. There was no beach, no ocean, no sky. Only a vortex of Arcaea surrounded her, the individual pieces counting into the millions.

There was only silence.

She was alone, all alone, again.

There was nothing more terrifying than being alone in this world with nothing but countless memories to keep you company and show you everything you could never have.

Picking up and cradling the blood-stained beret to her chest, Tairitsu sobbed, mourning the latest vibrant mirage that had slipped out of her hands and faded into a monotone grey. As if responding to her grief, the vortex swirled faster, still completely silent. Only the red shard floating before Tairitsu remained motionless.

Except it wasn’t fully red anymore. It had shattered amid their heated battle. She had done her best to put it together, but the pieces just wouldn’t fit. It was like the individual pieces had lost their connection to each other.

She had no choice but to fill in the gaps with her own memories, with pieces of Arcaea that glittered a deep blue. The shard before her now was a hodgepodge of red and blue, stitched together with willpower alone. But it was the best she could do, now that Hikari was gone.

She hadn’t meant to. At that moment, with grief overwhelming her and wavering at the edge of a precipice, her hand had been forced. By the time she came to her senses, it was already too late.

She couldn’t live without the pillar of light that was Hikari. Hikari had been the only thing leading her in this dark world without hope. That was what she had come to realise in the months of aimless wandering that had arisen after Hikari’s death.

She loved Hikari, right? This was what love was? To think about the other, to need them, their soul, their light, their guidance, like a vampire needed blood?

She would bring Hikari back. In any way she could.

Reaching out to touch the shard, Tairitsu smiled. She’d just have to try again. She’d do it, over and over and over, until it was perfect. Then Hikari would stay, right? Hikari would have nothing to complain about.

Hikari would never know anything was wrong. So would she. She’d forget, let go of all of the pain, and live happily ever after. Like all of the people in the Arcaea Hikari had once held dominion over.

This time, she’d add the chirp of cicadas…

~~~

The Arcaea twisted and flitted to-and-fro over the girl in black, observing in amusement.

~fin~

#fanfiction #arcaea #hikari #tairitsu #hikaritsu #one shot

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emospritelet · 5 years ago

Text

Desperation - chapter 8

45: “I won’t leave you, I promise”

Prompt list is here

[AO3]

The sound of coughing woke Belle.

At first she was disorientated, surrounded by unfamiliar shapes, the light coming from the wrong angle and the room smelling of orange oil and raw wool. She struggled with the blankets over her, fingers catching in crocheted patterns as she sat up, and then she remembered where she was. The Gold house, curled up on the couch. Where she would be for the next three weeks while the town was in lockdown.

The coughing came again, followed by a dull thump, and Belle scrabbled at her makeshift bed, untangling her legs and almost falling to the floor in her haste. She headed for the stairs, taking two at a time, and almost collided with Gold as he loomed out of the darkness. He started, stepping back on one foot, his shoulder pressed against the wall and his cane grasped tightly in the other hand. Belle took a step back too, keeping her distance.

“Are you okay?” she asked anxiously. “I thought I heard someone fall.”

“Yeah, that was me.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No no, it’s fine, it’s just - I was worried.” She stepped aside to let him past. “Please, get back into bed.”

Gold nodded wearily, shuffling along the corridor to his bedroom, and Belle chewed her lip as he started coughing again. He reached for the door with a hand that shook, pushing it open and almost falling into his bed. She edged closer, peering through the doorway, and he was lying on top of the bed with his head thrown back, his thin chest rising and falling too rapidly. She glanced at his water jug, and it was almost empty, the glass beside it lying on its side.

“I’ll get you more water,” she said, and snatched up the jug.

When she returned, he had managed to pull the blankets over himself and was shivering. Belle fetched the thermometer, sticking it in his mouth as she filled his water glass. The reading made her heart clench.

“I don’t like this,” she said. “You’re one-oh-four, you need to take something.”

“Can’t.”

“You can,” she said firmly. “I’m surprised you’re not hallucinating.”

“Oh, I’ve seen plenty of terrible things, let me tell you,” he whispered.

“That’s it.” She put her hands on her hips. “You’re taking those pills. I’ll get some more if I have to personally bribe the Mayor, but you’re taking them, got it?”

“God, you’re tenacious!” he said wearily.

“You won’t be able to care for Bae if you end up in the ICU,” she warned, and he sighed.

“Fine. You’re right, of course. Give me the pills.”

He coughed again, the movement seeming to propel him upwards into a sitting position before collapsing back with a low moan, and Belle hurried to find the tablets, bringing him two and watching like a hawk as he drank them down with some water. His hair was hanging in his face, strands of it sticking to his cheeks, and she resisted the urge to brush it back.

“Try to drink some more,” she said. “You’ll dehydrate.”

Gold drank another glass of water, and she poured more for him, stepping back from the bed as he settled back in the pillows with a sigh. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and she felt a pang of fear at the thought that his condition might worsen, that it might become pneumonia. Lockdown didn’t include emergency services; if he got really bad, she could always call an ambulance.

“Do you have health insurance?” she asked.

“Yes - well, sort of.” He sounded a little breathless. “I can’t really afford to get too sick, but I’m sure this is as bad as it’ll get. I’ll be alright, I swear it.”

“What if you’re not?”

“I will be. Have to be.”

Belle sighed. Stubborn. Maybe stubborn enough to beat this thing.

“Alright,” she said. “But if you get worse and we have to get you to hospital, I'm getting you there somehow."

“Thank you, Belle,” he whispered. “I’ll be okay. I just need to rest.”

He began coughing again, sitting up and covering his face with the blankets, and Belle winced at the hollow sound he made.

“You don’t sound so good,” she said. “Is your throat sore?”

Gold nodded, wincing.

“Can I get you some honey and lemon?” she asked anxiously, and he nodded again, eyeing her over the top of the blankets as the coughing subsided.

“Please.”

She went out, pausing outside Bae’s door to listen. There was no sound of coughing from within, so she hoped that he, at least, was getting some decent sleep. The house was dark, the floor creaking beneath her feet, and she struggled to find a light switch, fingers scrabbling at the wall. It was cold, and she shivered, wishing she had thought to put something on over her PJs.

After putting the kettle on to boil, she went back into the lounge to pull on her slippers and wrap the crocheted blanket around herself like a heavy shawl, the edge dragging on the floor behind her as she made her way back to the kitchen. The sound of coughing came from above, and she looked up with a frown. I hope he’s gonna be okay. How will Bae cope with his father so sick? If he does have to go to hospital, what will happen? I know he said Granny helps, but she has the inn and the diner to run. Well, I’ll just have to help out as much as I can. The library won’t be opening any time soon, I shouldn’t think.

She decided that she would make herself a drink, too, and found some chamomile tea in the cupboard. The coughing sound started up again, and she shook her head, cutting some lemon slices and putting them in a cup with some honey. This won’t cure him, but at least it’ll give him some energy and vitamins. I need to call the Mayor’s office and ask about medicine. Is the Mayor’s office even going to be open? How is this lockdown being coordinated if no one’s supposed to leave their house? What if no one comes with groceries after all, and we’re on our own?

Belle paused, recognising a trickle of fear running through her, and told herself firmly that panic wouldn’t help anyone, least of all the sick man upstairs. She poured hot water into the cups, stirring his drink to dissolve the honey, and carried the cups up the stairs.

Gold appeared to have stopped coughing, and was sitting up against his pillows when she entered.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“A little more human,” he said, flicking back his hair. “The pills must be working, so thank you for making me take them.”

“I’ll be doing that again tomorrow,” she said briskly, and there was a soft chuckle from him.

He nodded his thanks as she put the drink on his nightstand, and she sat down in the chair in the corner, curling her feet under her and wrapping the blanket around her legs. He smiled slightly.

“I see you’re making use of my blanket.”

“I am.” She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. “Did - did you make this?”

Another smile.

“I did. Years ago. It’s travelled all over the north-east with us.”

“I saw your loom, and - and a spinning wheel,” said Belle. “Do you actually spin?”

“I do indeed actually spin,” he said. “And weave. Hadn’t done it in years, not since before my ex-wife and I got together, and then not until Bae and I moved to Storybrooke and we had the space. Relatively speaking.”

“I never met anyone who had a spinning wheel,” she said. “I thought it would be easier to just buy yarn.”

“Oh, it is,” he agreed. “But there’s a satisfaction that comes from making your own, and it gets me through the winter nights. Helps me relax, helps me think. Something to do other than watch the television. Bae likes to help with the dying process.”

“Where do you get the wool?” she asked, and he took a sip of his drink.

“The Nolans have a sheep farm just outside town,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. “I occasionally trade pickles and jam for wool.”

Belle smiled delightedly. Small town bartering, sharing resources, people helping each other out in times of need... I love this place. I was right to come here.

“Do you sell the yarn?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“Not really. I occasionally give a skein or two to Granny, but I tend to use it all for my own purposes.”

“And the loom?” she said. “I can see there’s something taking shape on there.”

Gold smiled.

“I’m making a shawl. Any money I make from work tends to go on essentials, so if I want to give gifts, I usually have to make them.”

“So who’s the lucky recipient?” she asked, and his smile grew.

“Don’t know yet, but I like to be prepared.”

He coughed, covering his mouth with his hand, and Belle shook her head.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be making you talk.”

“No, it’s okay.” His voice was hoarser than before, and he took another sip of the honey and lemon. “It’s nice to talk. Bae and I don’t have a lot of company.”

“You said his mother left when he was four,” she said, remembering their earlier conversation. “Doesn’t she see him at all?”

Gold shook his head, and Belle buried her face in her cup to hide her surprise. What sort of mother doesn’t want to see her own son?

“She didn’t want children,” he added. “Talked about getting Bae adopted as soon as he was born, but there was no way I could agree to that.”

“Of course you couldn’t.”

Gold took a drink, letting his head roll back against the pillows and turning the cup between his hands, a seemingly nervous gesture.

“She tried, in her own way,” he said quietly. “Caring for a child wasn’t part of her life plan, or so she told me. Wanted to be out having fun. Drinking with her friends, staying out until three a.m. Four years is longer than I expected her to stay, but she was never happy, not even before Bae was born. Can’t blame her for leaving.”

What about you? Were you ever happy?

“You sound like very - different - people,” she said, trying for a diplomatic tone. Gold’s expression told her that he wasn’t entirely convinced by it.

“You could say that,” he said. “It was for the best that she left. For everyone.”

“Well, it looks like you and Bae make a good team,” she said, and he smiled.

“He’s a good lad.”

His throat seemed to catch, and he hastily shoved the cup onto the nightstand just before he started coughing again. Belle sat up, chewing her lip anxiously, and his shoulders shook as he buried his face in the blankets. As the cough subsided he lay back with a gasp, his breathing rapid.

“You should get some rest,” he whispered. “No point in both of us being awake all night.”

“You sure you’ll be okay?” she asked, and he nodded briefly.

Belle got to her feet, tugging the blanket around herself and taking another sip of her tea. Gold was lying back with his hands folded lightly on his belly, his eyes closed and moonlight painting blue highlights on his nose and cheeks.

“Call if you need anything,” she said, and his mouth twitched.

“Thank you, Belle,” he whispered, and opened his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. I'm glad you decided to stay, I couldn't have managed alone.”

She smiled, taking a step closer.

"Well, you won't have to," she said. "I won't leave you, I promise."

#fic: desperation #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #sprite's pandemic promptathon #kelyon #my fic

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placesyoucallhome · 4 years ago

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ffxivwrite #14 Part

And Pieces

((note: MSQ’ruhka AU, wherin he’s the WoL/D, and yes he’s pretty bad at it))

A soft, steady beat of a pedal being pressed over and over, the wheel of his spinning wheel a quiet whir as he fed the cleaned and treated wool twisted thread thin into the flyer. He didn’t even flinch at the sudden words from behind him. “And what in your Twelves’ names are you doing?”

“Ain’t my Twelves’ anything yeh walkin’ corpse.” Q’ruhka shot back, not looking up from his task. This was... more common than Ruhka really wanted to admit to the other scions, they often enough lamenting not knowing what that damnedable Emet-Selch was up to. But in all they times they had sent Ruhka away to ‘rest’, Emet, instead of sleep, found him. “Wha’s it look like I’m doin’? Spinnin’ thread.”

“Quite the old fashioned fellow aren’t we?” It was meant to be a chide, the sarcastic drawl saying more than his words, but the catte only shrugged.

“Aye, plenty speed up th’ process with crystals, but I like havin’ my own hand in some.” On his own time, he would take his time, the patient thrum of work more calming than rest. “From fluff, t’ thread, t’ cloth, t’ clothin’, there’s a satisfaction in making, ain’t there?”

“And a waste of time, when you can buy such cloth in the Crystarium.” The ascian huffed, and Ruhka’s ear twitched at the hint of exasperation in the man’s voice.

“Oh ‘great an’ mighty’ Emet-Selch, can’t see th’ peices fer the whole, can yeh?”

----------

“What in the convocation’s name are you doing, Azem? And where is your mask, you disgrace?” Hades, seat of Emet-Selch, grumbled, looming over the 14th seat as they sat at an odd mechanical contraption, and a bag of what looked to be cut and combed wool at their side. He was tired enough already from a long day in debates, debates which Azem had decided to skip out on, he didn’t need whatever useless fancy this was.

“Hades! Met a lovely town on an island in the southwest sea, they still held to the old crafts and were amenable to teaching me.” Bright as the sun they shone under, gold hair near glowing but didn’t diminish their grin. The bastard probably plumb forgot there was a debate today at all. “Look! I’ve gotten better at it! First bobbins were rather lumpy but now I can spin it down to a respectable yarn.”

“But, WHY? We can make whatever it is we want, we’ve no need for the old crafts anymore.” He waved the whole thought away, they could conjure anything they wanted, what use did this have for them anymore?

“And so they should be forgotten? Because they are too old to matter? Does progress mean ideas should be tossed aside out of hand?” Azem shot back, sharp enough to make Hades flinch, “Besides, Hythlodaeus agrees with me.”

“Hythlodaeus always agrees with you, you fool.” The two were nigh inseparable, at least while Azem was in the city. Hades gave it perhaps ten minutes more before the man showed up on the lawn with them. “What it means, is you are wasting your time, Prometheus.”

Prometheus laughed, clear and ringing like sunstruck bells, “Oh dear Emet-Selch, still cannot see the so important parts that fit together to make the whole?”

----------

There was something unreadable on Emet’s face, more so than usual, “Has th’ ghost seen another ghost? Ain’t like yeh t’ be quiet Eme.” Ruhka paused, his wheel slowing as he peered up at the man.

The ascian seemed to blink out of it just as quickly, “You are not calling me that.”

“Try an’ fuckin�� stop me Eme.”

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #Q'ruhka #emet-selch #I can't write canon characters and I really shouldn't try #but have this anyways #the au no one gives a shit about but exists anyways #you see the problem is #that rukha/azem do get along with Emet #and by get along i mean that they annoy the living shit out of him

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years ago

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Fair Fun

Requested: Yes - anonymous asked:Tyler takes you to a fair on a first date and tries to win you a stuffed toy and persuades you to go on the Ferris wheel even though you hate heights

Word Count: 3297

Warnings: None

POV: Reader

Notes: This was another fun request to write. Hope you guys like it! Peace, Love and Hugs all!

You still couldn’t believe you were getting ready for your first date with Tyler Seguin. When you’d stepped into the coffee shop, you knew who he was right away, though you didn’t approach him; wanting to give him his privacy. Though when he tried to take your order you had no choice but to speak to him. “I’m sorry, I think that one is mine.” You’d said casually, as he held your coffee in his hand.

He turned the cup over, checking to see. “Oh, you’re right, this is decaf. Sorry about that.”

“No problem.” He went to hand the drink over to you, finally looking at you. Just as you went to take the coffee from him, he pulled it back.

“Decaf? You don’t really look like the non-caffeinated type.” He was eyeing you appreciatively; truth be told you couldn’t take your eyes off his mouth.

Your brain scrambled for a witty retort, when none came to mind you finally blurted out. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not. How do the non-caffeine lovers of the world actually look?”

“Usually dark circles under the eyes, hair not perfect; you know not as beautiful as you look.” Heat rose to your cheeks at his words. “Who knew that blush would make you even prettier.”

“Thank you, that’s sweet of you to say.” His coffee order came up then, yet he made no move to get it. “I believe that one is yours finally.” You reached over to take your drink, yet he still didn’t relinquish it; you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly.

“I feel like if I give you this, you’re going to walk out the door and I’ll never see you again; and I can’t have that.” A wicked grin broke out across his lips, and you felt it deep in your core.

On a whim, you wrote your phone number down on a napkin. “Trade?” You said holding the number out, as he held your coffee hostage.

“Seems fair.” He exchanged you. Once the drink was in your hand you made a move to leave; needing some air from the whole encounter. You knew he’d never call so why prolong the meeting, besides you needed to head to work. “See exactly as I thought. I’m glad I held out for this.”

Shaking your head at him, you replied; “Sorry, I’m late for work.”

“Alright Decaf, I’ll talk to you soon.” With that you headed out the door, taking a deep cleansing breath to compose yourself.

Pulling out of the parking lot, you headed down the road to work; when your phone came through the car. “Hello”

“Hey Decaf, you forgot to tell me your name.”

Oh my god, it was Tyler. You never expected him to call. “Oh, um…It’s (Y/N).” After that, the conversation just seemed to flow; and over the next six days you talked to each other more times than you could count. He happened to be heading out on a road trip the day after you met him, but he would snap you and call constantly while he was gone.

Finally, on the day before he came home; he asked you out. The fair was winding down and he thought the two of you could go before it ended. Of course, you said yes, but right now you were second guessing everything; as you couldn’t find a thing to wear. In the end you decided on a destressed pair of jeans and a plaid off the shoulder crop top. You put on the finishing touches right as the doorbell rang. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you answered the door. “Wow, you look great Decaf.”

“Will I forever be known as Decaf to you?” During your conversations on the phone, he would somehow slide the nickname in at least once.

That devilish grin of his came out, as he said; “What? I like it; you’re my venti decaf. I still have no clue how you are always so upbeat without any caffeine. So you ready for some fair food and fun?”

“Yeah, just let me grab my bag.” The two of you talked the whole way to the fair; it was as if you’d known each other forever and not just a few short days. When you finally parked the car, Tyler came over and opened the door for you; then grabbed your hand as you strolled on the grounds. “I feel like I haven’t been to the fair in years.”

“So, what do you want to do first? Eat, play some games or hit up a couple rides.”

Someone walked by with deep-fried oreos. “Food first, did you see those? They look amazing. Though I suppose they’re not on your hockey diet.”

“Everyone deserves a cheat night once and awhile.” He scooted you past a crowd until you were in line for the deep-fried goodness. Breaking one apart, you brought the creamy confection to your mouth, sighing as you tasted the yumminess of the cookie. “Damn girl, you make that sound so delicious.” You weren’t entirely sure he was referring to the oreo.

Holding the other half up to his mouth, you said; “Have some.” Taking the cookie in his mouth, he licked your fingers clean from the powdered sugar that remained there; it made you shiver. You shook yourself to regain your composure. “Maybe we shouldn’t have started with dessert.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find a way to work it off, sometime tonight.’ You blushed; couldn’t help it when he said comments like that. “Come on let’s get some real food.” The two of you wandered around, sampling this and that as you went. When you’d finally had enough food, you stopped at a booth where you could shoot basketballs and win a prize. “Better start picking out which stuffed animal you want; I’ve got this in the bag.”

You looked at him skeptically, these carnival games always seemed to have a catch to them. Normally the hoops were slightly bent as to be in favor of the game owner. Tyler, threw out five dollars for five shots. The first one hit the backboard. On a regular court, the shot would’ve gone in, but here it simply bounced off the rim. You held back a giggle, not wanting to hurt his feelings. The next two followed in roughly the same manner. The fourth somehow made it in. “I was just warming up before. I’ve got it now babe.” Bending at the knees he released the last ball to the hoop. It missed. The booth operator, held out a small box, filled with tiny plastic trinkets; and told you to pick one. Tyler’s face was completely dejected; as you settled on a small little bracelet. “That’s not the prize I wanted to win for you.”

Placing it on your wrist, you told him; “Aww, it’s really cute though.” The two of you continued on, until you stopped at a balloon dart booth; where Tyler insisted, he would win this time. The man handed over three darts. Only one of which Tyler was able to break a balloon with. You could see the frustration on his face, as he gave the gentlemen more money to try again; not getting any to break this time. Gently you pulled him away before he could spend more money. “Ty, you know these games are all rigged right.”

“They can’t all be.” His thumb was rubbing the bracelet he’d won for you, as he held your hand; a frown on his face as you continued to stroll among the booths. You hadn’t realized how badly he wanted to win you a stuffed animal; had just assumed it was his masculine pride that was bruised from losing both games.

He started to pull you in the direction of the fish bowls. “Oh no, you are not winning me a fish!”

“Aww come on. I’ll buy you a tank and everything to take care of it.”

He was giving you these puppy dog eyes and they were hard to resist, yet you found yourself saying. “I don’t think so. It would just be a waste of money when I have to flush him down the toilet in two days.”

He laughed but totally agreed with you. “Ok, you’re right, no fish; but we’re not leaving here until I win you something better than this.”

“But I like it.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

You moved the two of you off to the side, away from the crowds; so you could face him. “I’m not just saying that. I’ll wear it all the time, because it will remind me of you and how much fun I’m having.” His hands had moved to your hips, while you were talking; so, you took the opportunity to slide yours up his chest and around his neck. You tilted your head to the side, as you said; “Maybe I need to convince you.” Bringing your lips up to his, you kissed him sweetly. He pulled you a little tighter to him, as the kiss continued. As your mouth was pressed to his, you melted into him; until he finally broke away.

“That was definitely convincing, though if we continue; I may forget that we’re actually at a fair with hundreds of people.” His words brought you back to the present, for a short moment you actually didn’t remember where you were. You took a step back out of his embrace. “Oh no, don’t think I’m letting you go now.” He tightened his hold on you, then gave you a quick peck on the lips. “Come on, let’s go ride something.”

Honestly, this was sort of the part you were dreading. You did enjoy some of the rides, the ones people usually hated that would spin, never seemed to bother you. It was pretty much the ones that were off the ground about twenty feet. Which meant the Texas Tower was totally off your list of enjoyment, even though it was probably one of the most sedate rides there; besides the carousel. Hopefully, Tyler would scratch that off his list. The two of you headed over to Haunted Castle, which ended up being a slow roller coaster with creepy things flying at you. Which meant you got to hold on to Tyler tight. While it wasn’t super scary it was an excuse to bury your head in the crook of his neck, and breathe in his intoxicating scent. As you exited the ride, Tyler leaned in to tell you; “I’m thinking we may have to go on that one again.”

You blushed, yet agreed with him. “I think you’re right. Come on silly, let’s hit up the tilt-a-whirl.” After that it was the music express and then the bumper cars; as you headed off the ride you saw what loomed ahead, the Ferris wheel. It was probably the ride that you dreaded most, swinging in some cart while over two-hundred feet in the air was not your idea of fun; in fact, you could feel yourself break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it. You sent up a quick prayer that he’d just want to move on to another ride.

“No fair visit is complete without a ride on the Texas Star, come on.” You stopped dead in your tracks. If it weren’t for bad luck, you’d truly had no luck at all; meeting Tyler had been a total fluke. He pulled on your hand, yet you didn’t budge. “(Y/N), let’s go; the lines down, it’s perfect timing.”

“Um…I have this sudden craving for funnel cake. We should go get one of those instead.” Fear had overtaken you and there was no way you were going to tell Tyler about it. He was this big, strong hockey player, that would speed down the ice checking players and taking hits; he probably wasn’t afraid of anything.

“That’s clear over on the other side; we’ll get one after this.”

You were going to have to try a different tactic. “Oh my gosh, they have the cutest stuffed puppy at the shooting game. You have to try and win that; it would look so adorable in my house.”

“Yeah, sure anything you want. Let’s just hit the Ferris wheel first.” He yanked on your hand again. “Babe, what gives?”

“Just look at the guy running it, doesn’t he look a bit shady?” It was a stretch but you were willing to try anything at this point.

“He looks like every other ride operator here, and you haven’t had a problem until now. So how about you tell me what’s really going on.”

There was no use hiding it anymore; he could probably see the terrified look in your eyes. He reached over, running his hands up and down your arms in a comforting manner. “Ok well…you see…I’m sort of afraid of heights.”

“Oh” You could see realization dawn on his face. His hands slid down your arms, and he grasped both your hands in his. “So, we don’t have to go on it, if you don’t want; or you can take this opportunity and just face your fear.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re probably not afraid of anything.”

A deep chuckle erupted from him. “Hardly. Obviously, you didn’t see that episode of me and what’s in the box.” When you shook your head no, he continued. “I’m terrified of snakes. They put a toy one in there and I thought I was going to lose my shit. So I totally get being afraid, but I’ll be with you the whole time.” He brought your joined hands to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles. “Promise I won’t let go.”

You kind of felt nauseous just thinking about going on the monstrous wheel, but then you looked into Tyler’s eyes and those nerves seemed to dissipate. “Ok, you promise you won’t let go?” He nodded yes. “Though I’m telling you now; I’ll probably keep my eyes closed the whole time.”

“That’s fine, hun. We’ll do this together.”

“Ok, but let’s go now before I chicken out.” Tyler led you up to the Ferris wheel, holding your hand and rubbing his thumb in a comforting motion. As you neared the front of the line, every instinct in you wanted to run. Tyler must have noticed for he grabbed your waist and held you tight to him; you took some measure of comfort in the embrace.

“Alright (Y/N), we’re up. You ready.” Wordlessly you nodded. Tyler stepped in first and the cart swung a bit; yet he never let go of you. Before you think about it any further, you stepped in and hurriedly sat down; giving out a little shriek. “Don’t worry babe, I got you.” He switched hands so that he had one arm draped across your shoulders squeezing you to his side; while the other one held your hand. The Ferris wheel started to rotate. “You’re ok just breathe. I don’t need you passing out on me.” He laughed and some of the tension that was running through your body relaxed. You were about midway to the top, when Tyler whispered in your ear. “You’re missing out on a great view.”

Slowly you peeked one eye open. The fair was so alive at night, the colors all vibrant and sparkling; it was quite magical. “Wow you’re right it is really pretty.”

“See you’re doing great (Y/N).” You felt yourself relax a little more into Tyler. “Actually, it’s kind of romantic up here, all alone.” You glanced in his direction and the smile he wore melted your heart. “I think I know something that would take your mind off this ride even more.” He bent his head down to yours and captured your lips in a tender kiss. Just like before, the world drifted away and it was just you and Tyler. You sighed into him, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue swept inside, caressing you softly; never asking for anything more than you would give. You felt your hand separate from his, as you reached up to cup his cheek, giving yourself fully over to him. You’re not sure how many times the Ferris wheel went around; for as your kiss with Tyler continued time stood still. It wasn’t until the cart came to a stop that you broke away; the swaying motion bringing you back to reality. You were stuck at the tippy top; but quite frankly you didn’t care. As long as Tyler was beside you, you could conquer any fear.

“Thanks for making me get on this thing. I have to say it might be my new favorite ride.”

“Mine too.” He whispered, then stole one more kiss.

“So now that you’ve helped me, is there a snake exhibit or something we should go see here.” You teased.

“I think we’ve dealt with enough fears tonight. We can save that for another date.”

The two of you exited the ride, then continued around the fair. You stopped and got cotton candy, where you fed Tyler the gooey confection, only to get it stuck in his beard; which of course lead to more kissing. Finally, you both passed a game, which Tyler couldn’t pass up. “Come on (Y/N) just let me try this one last time.”

“Fine.” It was the hang game, where he literally just had to hang on a pull-up bar for two minutes. Tyler paid the man the money, then got in position. His feet were just off the ground. The clock started, as you watched sixty seconds past you could tell by the look on his face this was harder than he expected. “Come on Ty, you can do it.” You cheered him on, just as he’d helped you through the Ferris wheel. He had another twenty seconds to go and you could see his arms starting to shake a bit. “You got this.” You started to count down with the clock, hoping that would urge him on. When you hit one, and the timer went off; you could see the relief of having made it on his face. He waited a full extra two seconds just for good measure, before dropping down to the ground.

“I told you, I’d get you that stuffed animal.” He was slightly out of breath, as the booth operator told you to pick out one of the enormous plush toys. There wasn’t really a choice, you were definitely picking the green puppy; as it reminded you of Tyler. Pointing out which one you wanted, and they handed it over to you. It was literally about four foot tall and you could barely carry it.

“Oh my god, what am I going to do with this thing; it’s huge!”

“Wow, I was hoping you’d say that about something else, not this stuffed dog.” You shoved him, as best you could with a giant puppy in your arms.

“Well I already do think that, of your ego.” You winked at him as the two of you ambled through the fairgrounds. “But seriously, thanks for this guy. It was really sweet of you to win him for me.”

He reached over, snaking an arm around your waist; as he said. “It was nothing. Though it’s going to be hard to top for date number two.”

“Oh, date two huh?”

“Well, yeah. Though I’m not ready for this one to be over yet.”

You had reached the car and were leaning up against it. He trapped you with his hands resting on either side; then pressed his lips against yours. The kiss went on for a few minutes before you finally, breathed. “Well it doesn’t have to be.”

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic

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eroticcannibal · 4 years ago

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O great & wise dad, do you have any tips on organizing crafting supplies? I'm dealing with about 4+ generations of inherited stuff, everything from embroidery floss to glitter to yarn to seed beads to lace, plus an antique loom & spinning wheel. Plz....help. It's awesome but also v overwhelming, esp cuz there's lots of 'I respect the resourcefulness & also growing up during the Depression style Trauma of it, but jfc do we need this much metallic trim clearly salvaged from old Christmas decor?'

OK first of all dealing with all that must be an ordeal but also i want your life. Holy shit.

So first thing: Containers. Itty bitty containers for beads, bigger containers for other things. Put containers in containers! Bag stuff up by category and chuck em in a box! Some stuff u might wanna buy containers for but household waste should cover u for most of it. I use a LOT of jars (spice jars are great for beads and glitter). I did buy an IKEA Skallax unit and some boxes to fit for some other things that won’t go in jars so well, like fabrics and paints etc.

Second thing: Pinterest. Pinterest is a blight BUT theres some good ideas for storage there. Like I saw one person using the IKEA plastic bag holder for putting rolls of wrapping paper in cus it’s got holes in that work perfectly. Wine bottle holders for yarn. All sorts. It’s great.

Third thing: Use your craft stuff to organise your crafts! Perhaps you can use up some yarn or fabrics to make some containers for other things? I used up all my plarn making a basket for onions.

Fourth thing: Vertical storage. When u got a LOT of stuff, u need all the space u can get. Shelves are your friend. (or even stackable boxes)

Fifth thing: Do not try and do it all in one go. Pick one thing, organise it, go have a cup of tea.

Sixth thing: If there is stuff you *want* to get rid of but you’re struggling to let go of it, give it to another crafter. That way you know it will get some love.

As for the BIG stuff, I think if you get everything else organised then I think those will be easier to find a place for.

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tslasvegas · 4 years ago

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Episode 5 - “The clowns are in full force this season” - Jaiden

The clowns are in full force this season. First of all that tribal council was a load of fucking shit lmfao, I could not believe the sob stories Nik and Joey were pulling out to try and stay another day in this fucking org... it is final 17 it's not that serious. I will say that I immediately regretted the decision to vote for Joey but now I'm realizing how beneficial it might've been after all, like.. now people don't see that Joey and I are as closely aligned as we are and it definitely shows Kailyn that not only can I be loyal, but also that I had an accurate read on the events of this tribe. Interestingly enough, Kailyn did NOT believe me when I told her we didn't have the votes to keep Nik without drawing rocks. As soon as the tie came in I acted all mad and said "I'm not drawing rocks for this, I'm flipping". ...and Kailyn still had the nerve to ask "wait did you flip?" after it was all said and done! The funny thing is, Ben also assumed Kailyn flipped and immediately DMed me saying "So I assume Kailyn flipped go figure" or something to that extent. LOVES IT! Maybe no one thinks I'm a flip-flopper after all. Rachael being on this tribe already bugs me because I think she's going to get along with just about everybody and we should've taken a shot at her when we had a chance. It's become evident that I need to start playing the chips game a lot more than I have been because those little buggers are going to become more and more important as time goes along. I think Rachael is fucking full of it when she says there was nothing on Exile for her. She either has an idol and is lying about it, or she's got some sort of advantage to help her out and I'm not here for it. I did eventually come clean to Rachael about the whole DeNara vote thing, where I whipped around and pretended to be voting for Ben afterwards, but I don't think it has a strong impact on our relationship. She gives me such an uneasy vibe and I don't want her around much longer... I kind of hate this tribe I got swapped onto because everybody here feels like legitimate threats to win this game except I guess myself right now. And Xavier. He doesn't really provide much to the game yet, but I bet he will surprise us all along the way. Agenda for this round... make sure we win immunity. But if we don't.. sorry Rachael, you're going to just have to see your buddy Nik a lot sooner than you would've liked. Ciao!

Survived another Tribal!

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Super sad to see Nik voted out but also insanely glad to see Joey survived. It would be heartbreaking to see him voted out first after the swap. Livingston and I are sharing all the chips we have and when we spin the wheel we’re transferring chips so if we land on a bankrupt spot we don’t lose the 28 chips we have so far. If we win this next immunity challenge, we may have enough chips to purchase the super idol that’s on sale for 48 chips. (If we both bid two chips on the challenge and then spin the wheel and get some chips.) otherwise, if someone purchases it before we do, we may end up buying some other useful items. Now it’s a selfie scavenger hunt which I hate, but that’s alright. Gonna give it my all and hope to take home the win.

I just had a moment of clarity. The other tribe are full of OG Palazzo. If they stick together, we're screwed. We should win this next one, see how their vote goes, and change our plans accordingly.

So my lazy ass hasent done any of these yet. So let me catch y’all up. So when my original trive first went to tribal I kinda thought I was fucked cus like I barely talked to ppl. Nik and Rachel were my closest allies (Rachael being my final 2). So quickly they told me denara wanted my ass out. Fucking mistake. So I got my sheep in order and went to work. I pulled some bs outta my ass and was like yo we got a swap coming up and denara is too fucking social she’s gonna flip on your asses. The more I said it the more it made sense to me lol. That fucking tribal was AIDSSS. I’m literally sitting there thinking I was getting booted, but my fucming savior Jaiden came up clutch. We sent that bitch packing. So me and Rachael have had a strat this game to send each other our coins before spinning the wheel to avoid going bankrupt. Since I’m a fucking gambling addict I’m always betting on the comps and spinning that wheel till I’m stacked on coins. So we hit a swap and I actually started talking to people. John is pretty chill and Xavier is kinda weird ngl. When it came time to vote nobody wanted to bring anything up to me. I had to hear from kaitlyn that nik was sadly the vote. So I quickly went to work. I felt the least connected to Joey so I went after his bitch ass. Originally, I didn’t wanna stick with my tribe but like they kinda forced us into that by keeping us in the dark. Everytime I’d ask Xavier his thoughts he’d just say some weird ass response and avoid my question lol. So like I kinda expected a tie vote and tbh I wanted rocks. We get to tribal it was a tie, and I’m fucking trying my best to get Xavier to flip cus he just seems like the dumbest person there. He’s like we can take nik out now then Joey next. LIKE FUCK NO. He wanted to create an all noobies alliance with idek. But I agreed cus fuck it. So sadly nik went home cus jaiden flipped :/ BUT me and Rachael got all his chips!! Now I’m fucking vibing with 10, and Rachael had got 8. Tbh we wanna save up for an idol, but with the shop at 20% and another 4-4 vote looming, I’d be down to snag an extra vote. I gotta peep all these new prices tho. I do hope we win this comp cus I’m obviously betting and I’m too lazy to fucking deal with another tribal. Well anyways peace out see y’all later.

My plan continues to just be working on relationships and hopefully winning the challenges. Either way, I've participated one of the most on the team so I'm hoping if we do lose, I won't become the target. I know I have a strong relationship with Kevin, which is 1/4 of the tribe. I'm also working on my relationships with Keegan, Pat, and Livingston. I kind of hope the other team targets Rachael, just because I wasn't a huge fan the last time I had to deal with her. I also want John and Xavier to survive because I know I have solid relationships with them. We're at day 14 and I've already put so much work to evolve my game, I want to go from worst to first - I want to do all the things I couldn't do when I was 16. But I have to keep thinking three steps ahead. So if we lose, my target is Mo. Nobody from OG Pink has been voted out yet - but because they have majority on this tribe there really isn't much I can do yet, but Mo hasn't contributed to the challenge. They're also very awkward, so I think I'd be able to swing it. If I keep working on my relationships, working hard in challenges and showing myself as a good ally - I have a chance to make it deep in this game. For now - let's hope we win the challenge so I can relax a little bit more. Day 15 is the farthest I've ever made it so if we do end up winning I've completed my third goal. (The first two being going a tribal without getting a vote, and leading a blindside.) My other four goals - getting an advantage, making merge, winning individual immunity, and winning this game. Get your checklist out, cause I'm coming.

Keegs and I have 28 chips between us then Okay so I told Keegan this, and I could be wrong, but I feel as if the numbers in the vault seem fairly good and that leads me to believe that nothing has been bought yet. If anyone else gotten in there, they are likely saving up for the Super Idol. Keegan and I will be saving up for it but if it ends up being gone, we'll at least have enough chips to pick up some other stuff. Keegan to me: "Also, I just thought of something. Since it’s possible to go Bankrupt from the wheel, would it be a good idea for us to give most/all chips to each other before we spin the wheel? That way if we do land on a bad spot, we’re only losing like 1 chip instead of the 10-20?" This gonna be our wheel strat moving forward

...five seconds later

Jake came to me wanting to work together. Of course, there is no real way to turn such things down so I let Keegs know and then I told him I would be down for that. I am not tryna do some Final 2 or whatever. For now it is just a "I have your back if you have mine" type thing. Jake also went to Keegan so Jake better not fuck up and be overly messy because I have enjoyed my convos w him LMAO - Okay so update on that: he has pitched a 3 of me, him and Keegan. This is good for us so we are going with it but my loyalties are to Keegan before Jake and I think Keegan feels the same way. We are being hesitant just in case Jake has also pitched similar things to other people. If we go to tribal, ideally we keep Jake safe but if he's being like this with everyone then maybe he's the one to go. I like Jake so I would really make rather it be the former.

So nervous about this challenge! We went all in! I even danced Blackpink. My gosh we have to win this.

fuck

38 points in SSH is a terrible score, I’m upset at my poor performance, but now that I just acquired the Legacy Advantage, it makes my game so much more interesting to say the least. I have 11 chips, I could’ve bought an idol, but given my luck, I’d rather not risk all my chips and lose them on a bankrupt.

this is so lame, im not super worried about getting voted out but still i just like the serene environment that comes with immunity, the chaos is fun too but like ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh im tired

Well... we lost the challenge. And I am not surprised in the slightest. This was a very very poor showing from this tribe. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind voting out Jeff right now. He really flopped the challenge. But it seems like the OG Palazzo group is wanting to stick together and vote out one of Jake, Mo or Kevin. Ideally, Kevin would be the one to go. I’ve barely talked with him, and with his recent win in Travellers survivor, he’s certainly capable of playing a strong game. That’s someone I’d like out sooner rather than later. Andrew has suggested Jake. Which I definitely don’t want. Jake, Livingston and myself have a sort of three person thing going on. As long as Jake is casting his net over the entire tribe, I want to continue working with him. Mo is in a weird spot. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ At the end of the day though, I don’t really care who it is, as long as it ain’t me.

SO HAPPY TO HAVE FINALLY WON! Steph and I have enough chips either for an IDOL or two of other advantages. I would rather have two others, because there is an idol nullifier out there. And two advantages are better than one. I am going to be watching the tribal of Bellagio. I want to see if the OG Bellagio are a solid 5.

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Ahhhh first time going to tribal. I’m really nervous. Not bec I think I’m in danger but more for long term... what to do?

girl... im so sick and tired of the people in this game keeping around inactive players because they know them from other games. SERIOUSLY, listen ma'am if my good friend is inactive, I know when someones dead weight. I get rid of them. They'll understand, and if they don't then thats a manipulative dumbass because who gets mad for being eliminated by a friend when they were inactive. it was originally gonna be me but ive been fucking pushing for kevin to go cus he doesnt do shit. DeNara give me strength.

Mo at one point was throwing my name out, which is awful. Apparently he’s not anymore. I think he’s voting for Kevin? Let’s hope so. I don’t want to be out of this game yet.

Currently holding that Legacy Advantage gives me much more access to information

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setoandjewel · 5 years ago

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Stranger Danger

Ajax is a character I use intermittently but he’s not really a canon character, he just has nice interactions with young Gabriel.

Story: Non-canon. Every kid has that day they get lost at the shops, but for Gabriel it’s a lot more scary than he thought

//////// = time skip

If I just creep down the smallest bit.

Gabriel inched forward and felt the ground sloping beneath him, as the platform of a shoulder gave way to the slippery slope of the completely vertical chest, and directly beneath the young boy, the unstable bag of cloth that was the pocket.

“Hmm, you think this would look good on me?” Seto asked, having filed through a few t-shirts and remaining on one black one. Gabriel mumbled out some kind of bored half response, gripping the fabric his father wore and biting his lip as he prepared for the final jump, he would land in the pocket and then ask for some ice-cream as a reward for his bravery and-

“Hmm, I think I’ll try and find some new robes instead.”

It all happened so quickly. The giant’s action of hanging the shirt back up, twisting on his heel with the arm still outstretched, them dropping it without a thought, had Gabriel thrown from the shoulder, his scream caught in his throat as his lungs were crushed and stomach left far behind. His father…he walked away without noticing, supposing the child had dozed off again. A gram lighter and none the wiser as Gabriel landed hard in a pile of discarded shirts, his light weight and the thick fabric meaning he miraculously survived.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

The child caught his breath after a few tantalising seconds of being unable to even inhale, lips soundlessly mouthing cries as he saw the figure that was his dad disappear into the crowd. The crowd of giant monolithic people, shoes capable of crushing him flat stomping past without second thoughts as to who was stuck alone on the floor without his daddy. Gabriel’s whole body hurt with a dull pain, his arms and legs were okay, but he whimpered and curled up knowing there was nothing he could do except lie there and cry.

“Daddy…Daddy, where are you?” The child whimpered, screaming when someone brushed too close to the pile and sent him tumbling along with the fabrics, leaving him on the cold tiles and still alone. On the ground that shook with every step that anyone took. Gabriel soon realised he couldn’t move from beneath the rack, because the sheer amount of foot traffic meant it was a fact that he would get fatally trapped beneath a boot if he moved.

What did daddy say to do?

“I can’t…I can’t-“

Gabriel winced at another set of footsteps approaching along with the sound of mumbled singing, the pillar-like legs in pressed black pants settling in front of him. He backed off with a terrified squeak into the dust and dirt of the unswept tile, blocking his ears as the hangers grated along their steel runner, the giant seeming content with rearranging clothes. Another peek let Gabriel spy a bright red top above the pants, along with looming arms moving and sorting at a practised pace.

Who was he?

“Shit. Customers never learn how to hang up their clothes.” The man muttered after catching sight of the pile that had saved Gabriel’s life, the boots stepping towards it as the grating stopped, replaced with a hearty sigh. “Ah, can’t stop yourself, Ajax.”

The human fled further away as the legs bent and the rest of the giant’s body came into view, a scowl on his thin features as the clothes were tucked into the crook of long and freckled arms. That’s when it hit Gabriel, he must’ve been a worker at the clothes shop.

“See those red people, they work here. They know where all the toys are if you want to go check some out later.”

A tuneful hum of the current song halted, the self-proclaimed Ajax pausing in a half-crouch, head cocked toward the sound he knows he heard. It was like the cry of a very small child, easily dismissed as the squeak of a wheel; the chirp of a far-off baby. But something told him it was more than that, and he looked down upon hearing it again.

The creature who made the sound was small, only around 2 and a half inches tall, with dirty knees and arms hugged around a frail form, hair dusty and face upturned to expose large and wet eyes. He was a human, a child.

“H-Hi…”

“C-C-Can you p-please help me?” There was an absolutely minuscule sounding sniffle, and Ajax set his hands on either side of it, a finger extended to nudge the form and watch him recoil with a push at the digit. He was real, there was a real-life child standing before him and asking for help, he wasn’t going mad! Tears dripped down Gabriel’s cheeks and onto the tiles without being wiped away.

“P-P-Please don’t h-hurt m-m-me.”

Ajax blinked a few times, his hands retreated and rested on his knees as he gave an apologetic smile.

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. My name is Ajax.”

“I’m Gabriel. And I need to f-find my d-d-daddy Mr Ajax. I…I l-lost him.” Gabriel sobbed, backing away when the hands approached a second time, because he knew that not all giants were like his daddy, not all giants were kind and wanted to help him, in fact, he /really wanted/ to have only his daddy at that moment. But he was alone and weeping in front of a total stranger.

But Ajax’s thin fingers only cupped beneath his feet, hands forming a bowl that held him secure but still against the ground, not attempting to box him in at all. The towering young man gave a lopsided grin, his pale blue eyes shining as a thumb moved to rest a little awkwardly on his apparent client’s back, feeling his heart skip a beat when the defenceless kid responded by whipping around and latching on, burying his face into the pale skin.

"I'll be glad to help."

“T-T-T-T-Thank y-you, Mr A-A-Ajax.”

“It’s just Ajax.” With an attentive look conquering his features, Ajax stood and brought his hands to his chest, watching wide-eyed at the figure smaller than he’d ever seen, so dependent on him. He didn’t care if people were asking for his opinion on the summer sales, this, Gabriel, was his priority. He’d never held a human before, never expected the slight weight the fragile figure had, or the hammering heart he could feel against his finger. But /he/ found the poor kid and would help find his father too.

“You just hold onto me and everything will be okay. We’ll, we’ll find him together, kid.”

“Ok-kay.”

“You see, we have these big speakers and they broadcast all around the store, and…

////////

"My son? Gabriel, is he here?"

Ajax perked up from behind the information desk, watching the figure fiddling with a gummy snake from between the protective walls of his crossed arms do so as well. The man had said Gabriel. He had said son. And by the way his charge hid behind his arms further only confirmed the fact; the mystery man had been found.

“Over here sir.”

Ajax called, watching a taller man in a t-shirt with shoulder-length brown hair approach them, looking distressed as eyes an unnatural grey colour picked him apart. The employee only opened his arms to reveal the bashful figure, scared that he’d get scolded for running away as well as being equally excited that his father was standing before them.

“I’m so-“

“Gabriel!”

Ajax watched as his new friend was practically snatched from him, Gabriel left with the ‘room’ spinning as the hand squeezed him tight into his chest and fingers became unyielding forms that pinned and smothered him against his giant. The moment he was set free he was given a thorough inspection, limbs swiped over by the warm pads of fingers to check for injury, before kissed his little boy once on the head.

“I’m so sorry, Gabriel. I wasn’t thinking, and I didn’t even notice and you could’ve been hurt, and I was panicking and looking for you and, I’m so, so glad that you’re okay and I found you. I’m so sorry I left you, cap.” The torrent of apologies only ceased with a sigh of burden, the child is given a much softer hug where he draped his arms partway over his father’s quivering shoulder, fingers at his back only supporting his weight.

A look to Ajax had the redhead simply wave his hands in a ‘go on’ motion, Gabriel nodding as he was brought to face his father once more. He had to tell him, he had to say it was his fault in the first place so his Daddy didn’t feel so bad.

“I-It wasn’t your fault, daddy. I was t-t-trying to get into your...your p-pocket so I could imp-p-press you. And I ssslipped and-d fell and-Mr Ajax f-f-found me and he was n-nice for a g-giant.” Gabriel crawled forward to hug into Seto’s chin, feeling the expression sitting above him shift at the new information. “He help-ped me, but it-t was all m-my fault in t-t-the first place!”

“Ajax.”

Was the only thing the sorcerer echoed, hand and Gabriel lowering down to chest height so the giant could march over and grab the man’s hand, shaking it with genuine gratitude and feeling.

“You brought my son back to me,”

Seto looked down and saw his son had already latched onto him again, snuggling as he found himself at/home/ again. The lines on his hand were familiar, the way he was held was familiar, the smell of his shirt and sound of his voice were the things he’d longed for the entire time they were apart. He didn’t need ice-cream now, he was perfectly fine with a father to hold him high and away from thundering feet. Where he was /safe./

“As a father I could never thank you enough.”

“All in a day’s work, sir. I couldn’t leave the poor kid alone when it was clear he needed his father.”

Ajax played the humble card, but Seto wasn’t buying it and fished around in his pocket to pull out some money.

“But I have money, or I could put in a good word for you for another job. Whatever you want, just let me repay you properly for saving his life.”

Ajax blushed and gave his trademark crooked smile, swallowing the gummy worm he’d been chewing and scratching the back of his neck. He had been meaning to find a new job at the pet shop...or maybe the daycare was still hiring.

“A reference, would /really/ do me some good, sir.”

—

If you enjoyed please like and reblog as it gets my work out there, and if you’re interested in more with my characters, you can follow!

Thanks xx

#gabriel knight #seto yamazaki #giant male #tiny child #gt #giant tiny

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pi-cat000 · 6 years ago

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MSA time travel idea (part 9)

Summary: Arthur falls off a cliff and lands in the past.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Vivi POV, Part 8

Part 10: here

Arthur steps out of the office building’s foyer and is immediately accosted by the uncomfortably bright sunlight. He winces, shading his eyes, taking a moment to adjust and shake off the usual full-body jitters skittering along his limbs and torso. The air is hot, dry, and itchy. After being blasted with the cold air-conditioning for almost three hours, it's especially jarring. He takes a breath and lets the tension go, feeling a whole lot lighter now the hard part of the trip is done and dusted. All it took was a few hours of anxious waiting,-pretty standard considering he had rocked up without an appointment,-and he now has his new prescription and a referral to the specialist he actually wants to see. It had taken him a ridiculously long time to find this woman the first time around, what with having to cycle through an extensive line-up of medical professionals, and he’s glad he can skip the drama this time. Though, he’s not sure how he’s going to manage appointments when he’s road tripping across the country with Vivi and Lewis.

Arthur frowns down at the referral paper, continuing down the steps to the footpath running adjacent to the building. There’s no way he is letting Lewis and Vivi go on a supernatural road trip without him. Not with them being entirely in the dark about how dangerous the whole thing could be. Sure, they had Mystery, but he is beginning to suspect that Mystery didn’t care much for anyone who wasn’t Vivi (and he's not even sure he can trust that anymore). He would just have to manage alone until they returned. If they returned. Arthur forcefully shoves the paper down into the front pocket of his shoulder bag, trying not to think too hard on a topic bound to bring his mood lower than it already was.

As he turns to head back to his van, his gaze travels automatically across the plaza filled with shoppers, past the line of dinners and restaurants, to land on the looming grey, brick, cube-like structure of St Peter’s Medical and Emergency Centre. It’s the largest building in the block aside from the few office buildings behind it, and even those weren’t very high, causing it to lean almost threateningly over the shorter boutiquey outlets in the street just before it. Dry wind ruffles his hair pulling him its direction, and his steps falter. He stares at the structure wearily. Funnily, in this life, he’s never actually stepped foot in the Emergency Centre.

So entranced is he by the odd sense of dislocation that he walks straight into a thin woman pushing an overladen trolley.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” She snaps, pausing to glare, while he’s busy ricocheting backward and stumbling in his attempt to keep his feet.

“Ah,” Arthur yanks his attention away from the hospital and tries for an apologetic tone, “Sorry?” It’s not like the woman’s been affected by his mishap. Arthur is the one with sore shins. The lady huffs and continues on, a cloud of irritation following her down the path.

The small commotion has drawn the attention of several strangers who have all turned to give him a brief glance before getting on with their day. Now feeling overexposed and increasingly off balance, Arthur power walks around the building to the parking lot and the safety of his van. The back of his neck is prickling uncomfortably, and there is a disconcerting, foreboding taint, hanging about his shoulders right up until he slams and locks his van door. He takes a deep breath and rests his head against the steering wheel. Then runs a hand through his hair, twisting a strand between two fingers.

Now that’s over with he should focus on the more enjoyable parts of his trip. Mainly, finding equipment and collecting some components to mess around with during those long hours spent alone in his room avoiding people. It’s a good thing he knows exactly where to go. Future knowledge: great for saving friends from certain disaster and navigating unfamiliar towns. He turns the key and pulls out.

A brief wave of melancholic nostalgia has him taking an additional turn around the block, passing several familiar shops. Tomb Tome, a frequent haunt of his high school years and Future Vivi’s old place of employment. He slows so he can stare at the shopfront, which is plastered with familiar colourful posters, pamphlets and info on local gaming and comic events, obscuring most of the shop’s windows. Vivi probably would have enjoyed it there a lot more if not for the circumstanced of their temporary move. It’s weird to think that she might never work there in this timeline. Not if his plans to change the future are successful. He speeds up, facing forward, massaging his right thumb into the steering wheel. The second-hand tech shop is a few streets down, and he pushes forwards, banishing the odd sense of disappointment.

Headphones and some slow music wash out the world until it’s just him and shelves of old computers, spare parts, and various mechanical and technical equipment. Slowly, the last few days of stress and anxiety drain away. He buys a whole lot more than he means to, which, on top of the doctor’s visit, takes a significant bite out of his personal saving. It doesn't bother him as much as it might.

It's towards the end of his shopping trip, or as Lewis would call it his ‘retail therapy,’ that the nagging feeling of apprehension, which he’d been trying to ignore since the running into the woman outside the doctor’s office, comes to bite him on the ass.

He’s back at his van, shuffling around with his overstuffed shopping bags when a shout, loud enough to penetrate through his music, catches his attention.

“Hey!”

Arthur pulls the buds from his ears, glancing over his shoulder to watch a heavy-set man, with an impressive beard and a leather vest, stomp towards him. There is something familiar and disconcerting about him.

“Hey, you! Kid!” The strange man yells again in a gravely southern accent. Arthur glances around, but he’s the only person out in the street. He watches the stranger approach, trepidation beginning to coil in his gut.

“You’re the kid from the diner, the one that made the suggestion about my bike’s engine.”

Oh. It clicks. This is the famed Leather Guy. It’s been almost two years, but Arthur still recognises the perpetually scowly face of a man never more than a few wrong words away from a fist fight.

“Err, yeah?” He answers slowly, hesitating.

“Name’s Micky,” Newly named Micky introduces, coming to a stop a few paces from Arthur.

“Sorry about taking a swing at you kid. Had a rough day. Went in to apologise but only saw your big purple friend,”

Arthur begins sorting through his key ring as subtly as possible, answering, “No problem. I could probably have been a bit more polite when pointing it out,”

He knows not to judge people based on appearance alone, but this guy’s looking awfully intimidating. His heart rate is increasing, and he can already feel the subtle flush of adrenalin, wiring him up in case he needs to move fast.

“Hey now, no need to be modest, kid. Not when you know your stuff. It’s good I ran into because I’ve been needing a second opinion on my bike.”

Micky shoves a hand into his jacket pocket and takes another step forward. A step too many in Arthur’s opinion.

“The mechanic I took it too was as clueless as a dim bulb if you catch my meaning.”

“Hehe, where’d you go? Donald and Son’s Repairs?” He laughs half-heartedly. Donald and Son’s is only other mechanic within several miles of the Pepper’s diner. Though, he’s sure there’s a few around this town as well.

“Yeah, actually, went there and they did a piss-poor job. If you could take a look at it, I’d feel a load better. Have a long trip coming, you see. Can’t have my baby breaking down in the middle of nothing now.”

Why does he get the feeling that Micky has never been to Donald and Son’s and that his bike is fine? Arthur, trying to keep his body language as light as possible, locates his key. He’d learnt from many a bad experience to trust his instincts. Right now they’re telling him to get out of dodge.

“Actually, I’m kind of in a rush at the moment,”

It’s not even a lie. He needs to start heading home soon if he wants to beat Lewis and Vivi who would be coming over after Vivi’s shift ended at five.

“But I work at Kingsman Mechanics …you can bring your bike there if you want it fixed,” he suggests, inserting his key into the door, preparing to make a break for it.

Something clicks, and it’s not the sound of his van being unlocked.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, kid. How about you step back from the van,”

Between looking down at the door and his key, Micky has pulled a gun, pointing it in his direction. Arthur freezes. Micky’s holding it casually so, to anyone looking, it wouldn’t be immediately apparent.

“Come on, then. Promise this’ll only be for a few seconds,” Micky says gruffly, seemingly irritated that Arthur hadn’t just followed him to straight into a back alley like a chump.

“Ah,” Arthur’s replies intelligently while his brain spins its wheels, attempting process this sudden change in circumstance.

He stares at the gun then up at Micky.

“Okay?” He offers when nothing better comes to mind.

It’s not the first time he’s had a gun pointed at him. When he had been road tripping with Lewis and Vivi he always seemed to be the one getting held up and chased by the wackos behind whatever ‘haunting’ they investigated. Remain calm. Don’t panic. Don’t antagonise. It’s the same sort of process.

Surprisingly, it’s not nearly as panic-inducing as those previous times. Instead of the fear completely wiping out logical thought like a bulldozer it’s just keeping him nicely tense and ready. How is that fair? Point a gun in his face and he’s not even flinching, but put him in a room with Lewis and he can barely function without throwing up the contents of his stomach. Just add it to the list of failures.

Note: Sorry about the two-week delay between parts, I was off battling the education system. I’m hoping to have a part 10 done in the next 2-3 days so you don’t have to sit on the cliff-hanger for too long. Hope people enjoy the slight shift in pace/tone.

#msa #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #fanfic #arthur kingsmen #time travel #here be the plot

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kaen-ace-of-diamonds · 6 years ago

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Phantom Thief

Word Count: 9000+ (chapter 2 of 3) (chapter 1)

Genre: Angst/Family

Characters: Emerald Sustrai, Jadeite Sustrai (OC, mentioned), Beryl Sustrai (OC), minor OCS

Summary: Professional thief Jadeite Sustrai dreams of only one thing: a happy family. To that end, he sets out from home to seek his fortune, certain that before long, he will be able to bring his wife and little daughter into a life of ease and plenty.Unfortunately, Jadeite's plan is nowhere near as clever as he thinks. And before long, young Emerald's life takes a nosedive straight into hell.

Content warnings for child abuse, child abandonment, mentions of domestic abuse, classism, and violence against the homeless.

~0~

“Dear mother, dear father, you clipped my wings before I learned to fly

Unspoiled, unspoken, I’ve outgrown that fucking lullaby

Same thing I’ve always heard from you; do as I say, not as I do

Innocence torn from me without your shelter, barred reality, I’m living blindly.”

- Dyers’ Eve, Metallica

~0~

Days like this are the worst.

The rain pours down so hard and fast that Emerald can’t see anything outside the wide front window of the bakery. Though the place is small and warmed by the heat of the ovens, she still shivers to look and be reminded that she’ll soon have to run back out into that.

Of course, it’s out of nervousness as much as chill. This is a first-time mark for her, and nothing about it puts her at ease. It’s late afternoon, near closing time, so there’s only two or three other people inside, but that just gives her less to blend in with. And the man behind the back counter -- who looks as if he should be breaking bones in the prizefighting ring instead of here baking pastries -- had snorted derisively when she’d hurried through the door, and in the few minutes since, had barely taken his eyes off her, contempt and judgment clear in them.

She knows how she looks; a stick-thin preteen in a filthy, overlarge shirt and tattered shorts, soaked to the skin and looking over his precious loaves of bread with broken, dirty fingernails is not something any shopkeeper who gives a shit wants to see on his property. She guesses that the only reason he hasn’t chased her out yet is because of her new trick: reach into her empty pocket and ruffle around in it, while slipping the sound of clicking plastic and glimpses of Lien cards into the man’s mind, making him think that she is a paying customer, if a distasteful one.

Emerald swallows, trying very, very hard not to look at him, only at the paper-wrapped bread arranged on the table before her as if hung up about which one to buy. She doesn’t want to be here. She’d have a much easier time with the convenience stores further downtown, where the tall shelves hid her better, the workers usually didn’t give her a second glance, and she could grab bottles of water and one of those huge boxes of crackers that would keep much longer than bread. But lately there were more and more obstacles popping up between her and a bite to eat there: her Semblance didn’t work on security cameras, her face was becoming too familiar, as someone who came in often but never could seem to buy a thing, and eventually even the laziest, most apathetic workers are bound to notice something at some point.

So here she is, so scared her stomach is doing backflips and struggling not to give herself away by trembling too much. But if she can pull this off right, she’s only seconds away from her first meal in days. Taking a deep, steadying, hopefully inconspicuous breath, and picks up the biggest loaf of bread within her reach. She pretends she didn’t just feel the shopkeeper’s glare intensify like a hot dagger to her neck, pretends to simply be examining her choice, while in reality she’s trying to concentrate. It’s more difficult than she’d thought; she hadn’t expected her head to start hurting so bad so fast. Even without the voice in the back of her mind --

(“You won’t ever do that to me again!”)

Don’t think about it! Don’t look...Don’t look...just focus, right over there, behind him, picture it...

Damn it, this is so hard, too hard, she should have practiced more but it hurt too much, she can’t use her Semblance on someone she can’t see, she should just forget it and go but the bread is fresh and warm in her hands and it’s so big and she’s so hungry --

Now!

“Wha - ?!” the shopkeeper squawks. He spins around, eyes bulging, to the nonexistent crash of metal behind him. The other two customers look up, startled at the random outburst. And Emerald is off like a shot, tucking the bread under her arm and bursting out the door, cringing at the chirpy ring of the mounted bell announcing her flight. The torrential rain is coming down even harder than before, like a thousand sharp, freezing needles assailing her. Its rushing, splattering sounds are loud in her ears, playing counterpoint to her pounding pulse, but not so loud that she can’t hear the shopkeeper’s wordless roar of rage behind her. She turns her head, chances a look through the front window, and her heart leaps into her throat.

Did he just vault over the counter?! Seriously?!

The man -- the absolutely gigantic man -- throws open the front door and starts barreling down the street after her, fists clenched and eyes wide and bloodshot, and a strangled gasp escapes her. She sprints even faster, shoving and elbowing past the staring passers-by flooding the narrow sidewalk (all of a sudden there’s too many of them, a wall of flesh moving to trap her), as she hears the all-too-familiar hunting cry booming behind her.

“Thief! Thief! Stop her!”

Desperate to escape, she wheels around and bolts down the closest alleyway. There’s no way she can fight this guy off, she thinks frantically, but even up here, Mitsubachi’s backstreets have a way of becoming downright labyrinthine to those who don’t know them, so she might be able to lose him. If there’s one thing she’s gotten very, very good at, it’s running. She can hear thundering footsteps splashing through the puddles behind her, but she knows that big, heavy opponents can run hard, but not fast. And certainly not for too long, either; when they chase her like this they lose steam within a minute, before they can get near her --

“I’m going to catch you, brat!”

Emerald startles and very nearly slips on the wet stone. Shit! That’s too close!

She had thought that she was running as fast as she could, but sheer terror spurs her on even faster. Everything starts to pass her in a dark grey and black blur, and she moves by reflex alone, the instincts of a rat fleeing a wild dog. Walls fly by, rain blurs her vision and rushes in her ears, she turns one corner, then turns another, runs down an empty street, turns, turns, runs straight, turns, glances back, runs straight --

“Ow!”

-- into something hard and splintery. Dazed, rubbing her scraped forehead, Emerald looks up, and her heart drops when she sees the wooden fence set up before her, right in the middle of the narrow alleyway: a few wide, thick boards looming above her head, with towering apartment buildings on either side of her. Surprise only holds her still for a second, before panic sets her off again. Clutching the bread tighter under her arm, she jumps up and grabs the pointed top of a board, hooking her other arm over it.

The wood is wet and rotten, and she can only hope it won’t break under her weight, slight as she is. It shouldn’t be that hard, she reassures herself, she’s hopped plenty of damn fences. The rain beats down on her upturned face, and the worn, tractionless soles of her shoes scrabble against the slick surface. The wood makes an ominous creaking sound as she pulls herself up, and she can hear her pursuer still close by, but she can’t look back, she’s almost home free!

But just as she’s about to throw herself over the fence, those footsteps reel around the corner into the alley, and a wide, meaty hand grabs the back of her shirt and flings her out into the building by their side. She cries out in pain as her thin body slams against the concrete wall, and the loaf of bread flies from her hand and drops to the filthy wet cement along with her. Unthinking -- the only thing in her head is a desperate siren of terror -- she makes to grab for it, but is kicked back against the wall the instant she tries.

Before she can do anything -- beg, flee, bargain -- the man is bearing down on her, fists bigger than her head pummeling every inch of her he can reach. She screams, cries like a beaten dog, and tries to scramble away, but he won’t let her under the storm of blows. Her ears ring and her vision flashes red with every hit, her nose is crushed with a sickening crack, and she can feel skin and bone bruising fiercely. And in between it all is what little she can understand of the man’s bellowing and cursing her:

“...teach you to -- fucking little -- should have just -- piece of shit thief!”

She only barely hears it, she doesn’t care. All she can think to do is try weakly to shield herself, curl up like a ball like an insect, with her knees tucked up into her chest, arms crossed in front of her face, and eyes shut tight.

Stop it, please stop, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, please, please just stop!

It might have been seconds, it might have been a few more agonizing minutes, but eventually it does stop. She doesn’t relax, doesn’t even dare to breathe, but the fists stop coming and she hears the man straighten up, huffing with exhaustion. The next noise he makes sounds more like a bear’s growl than human speech, to her ears.

“You...” The slam of a boot on the ground; she flinches as foul-smelling water is splashed into her face. “That better have taught you a lesson, you little rat. You’re lucky I don’t drag you to the cops right now.”

Don’t move, don’t look, don’t move, don’t look, oh, gods, please, don’t...

There’s no more. Another moment of tense silence, and then the sound of the man’s footsteps retreating, growing fainter and farther away until she can’t hear them any more. Even then, it takes a few minutes before she can relax the painful tension of her muscles and uncurl herself again. In that time, no one comes, not to help and not to hurt. She supposes that that, if nothing else, is fortunate.

Her head is spinning, and she's going to have so many bruises later. But it doesn't feel like she's got a concussion, or like anything’s broken, or permanently damaged. Still, it’s slow going, pulling herself back up to her feet. As if her legs are made of rubber, she wobbles, staggers, braces one hand against the wet brick wall before she's able to stand without nearly keeling over. Her legs still shake, but she tries to walk anyway.

Come on. Keep walking. Walk. One step at a time. No sense in lying here all day. Walk. It’s going to be okay.

Emerald makes it up to a relatively steady standing position. Her ribs are already aching with every breath, even before she tries to move. She takes one small step, that sends pain shooting up her legs. Then another, then...Half of another. She nearly trips on that third step, and by chance her eyes land on the loaf of bread on the ground, that she'd almost forgotten.

It's barely recognizable as the same thing she'd laid her hands on not five minutes ago. The bread had flown out of the paper wrapping, and been quickly reduced to mush by the rain relentlessly pounding on top of it and the muddy water puddling below. It hardly even looks like food anymore. But...It's still there.

Hot tightness grips her throat, and she immediately swallows hard and digs her nails into her palms to stave off the tears before they can come. Don't be such a baby, Emerald scolds herself, and stumbles toward it.

She bends down and scoops the soggy mess into her hands, trying her best to hold it together. The one blessing she has ever been given in this life, she thinks as she shoves the first bite in her mouth, is that she was born without a gag reflex.

It's a long way through the backstreets, and the pain in her legs and ribs only gets worse with every step. She manages to eat the ruined bread at a steady pace, and she makes it near the end of the last alley. There’s a dumpster there, and the back doors she’d passed had been for food places, she thinks, maybe it’s worth a try...Barely anyone’s passing by, no one should see if she just waits a second...

Against her better judgment, she shifts her grip on the bread so she can stealthily push the dumpster’s lid up so she can at least peek in. It clunks faintly, but doesn’t budge one bit. Locked. Of course. Hardly any of them are open these days. And if they are, all the food’s covered in fucking bleach or something. Just to spit in her face. She can’t even get the satisfaction of slamming the stupid thing shut before she stumbles the last few feet to the end of the alley.

Fuck it. Her lungs are killing her and her head is still floaty and spinning...She has to stop. Drop, more like: her knees give out and she winces as her backside hits the rough concrete harder than she’d meant to. Well...At least she hadn’t landed in another puddle, she tries to reassure herself.

That does not, however, make her any less cold or less wet. She sits on the edge of the alley and the sidewalk, at the side of the dumpster, and forces the next bites into her mouth. There’s a shop on her other side, but the awning over its front is too short by far to provide her with any protection from the rain. She looks around for a stray sheet of cardboard, or something else that she could maybe prop up over herself, but no good. She’d managed to get her hands on a coat a few weeks ago, and a nice big one too (winter is coming on fast and pneumonia with it, as always, and even if she wasn’t going to be sick northern Mistrali cold is torture enough), but it had been stolen off her while she slept just the other day.

Emerald shivers, and not entirely from the cold. She’s lucky that’s all that had happened, before she had woken up and run away. Thank gods her Semblance is perfect camouflage.

Mechanically, she keeps biting at the bread, hoping it didn’t pick up anything on the ground that will make her sick later. She can’t afford to throw this up...She should be figuring out what to do next, but she’s tired and she hurts and she’s cold and wet and — !

Calm down. Just...Just try and take a second to rest?

Gingerly, she leans back against the brick wall, looking at the street beside her. There’s no cars on the street, but plenty of pedestrians walking up and down the sidewalk on both sides. Scanning her surroundings, she can spot a few people like her around, too. One boy about her age, hurrying by with a downturned face and shoes held together by duct tape, with a tarp held over his head to protect him from the rain. A woman with long, matted hair, sitting on the stoop of an apartment building down the street, hunched over under multiple mismatched layers of clothes, a piece of cardboard with a black marker message on it propped against her knees. An old man sitting on the corner across the street, twitching, wild-eyed and wild-haired, with a single Lien card dropped into the overturned hat in front of him. None of them make eye contact with her, and she doesn’t mind that.

She doesn’t need anybody, she tells herself. It doesn’t matter that she’s overlooked, when she’s not causing trouble. Nobody else cares, why should she?

She’s lost count of how many times she’s tried to remind herself of things like this. And yet, it’s never cooled the hot needle of shame and anger that stabs at her heart, when they look at her like that. The people who pass right by her with nice warm clothes and wide umbrellas to protect them from the sleet, who have money and homes and families and lives to go back to, who glance down at her for a split second and then hurriedly look away again, the way you look and not-look at a particularly disgusting piece of roadkill splattered across the street. Again and again and again, every single one of them.

Emerald’s body is still frozen to the bones but her belly turns hot with anger. She knows what they’re thinking: they wish she didn’t exist, they wish they didn’t have to see or think about her, they wish she would disappear, or at least go away. But where do they think she’s going to go?! Not home, certainly. They’d be happy if she just laid down and died, she thinks, gritting her teeth around another mouthful of bread mush. But not here, oh no. Somewhere away from decent people, where nobody has to see something like her.

She huffs, and bites her lip to try to cut off that train of thought. Going off on a mental tangent makes her feel righteously furious, but it won’t fill her belly any. And it won’t distract her from the other, even worse part of it all that just won’t get out of her head, no matter how long it’s been or how hard she tries to put it behind her.

Home.

Even after five years of roaming around Mitsubachi on her own, Emerald still knows exactly how far she is from that basement apartment at the east end of the city. She still hasn’t gotten up the guts to go anywhere near back there, either, even if she isn’t sure Mom even lives there anymore. She knows also that she’s not a little kid anymore, and what’s Mom going to do to her, anyway, if she does run into her again? She could use her Semblance to get out if --

(“GET OUT!”)

She gives her head a small shake; it’s still ringing in her skull. And those hard green eyes and sharp nails...She feels more nauseous than before. Yeah, no. Best to keep her distance. The panicked, childish whine of I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home had taken a long time to stop. But eventually it had, and she’s glad of it now.

Mom doesn’t want her. Fine. Emerald doesn’t need her, not one bit. She doesn’t need her and she doesn’t need a —

“Nice family!” Her eyes flick to the old man across the street, who has half risen from his corner with arms flung wide, at a middle-aged couple and their sons, not too much younger than Emerald. He isn’t going to hurt them, even she can see that; she isn’t sure he’s able to move his legs, from what she can see of how he moves. “Excuse me! You’re such a nice family -- Please, could you just give me a little -- ?”

The boys stare determinedly up and ahead, as if nothing is happening. The man wrinkles his nose and walks faster, while the woman looks distressed, surreptitiously taking her Scroll out, dialing three numbers, and putting it to her ear.

All right then, time to go, Emerald decides, scarfing down the last of the bread and swallowing hard. She’s been tased and smashed with nightsticks before, and she has absolutely zero desire to repeat the experience. The hooded lady and her sign have already made themselves scarce, she sees as she gets up and walks as fast as she can down the street.

Against her better judgment, she turns to take one last look at the scene behind her. The father is glaring back over his shoulder as the mother talks rapidly into her Scroll, no doubt trying to sound as frightened and appalled as she can. The old man looks confused at them more than anything.

Emerald grimaces before turning back and quickening her pace, just a little. She hopes the cops won’t hurt him too badly. Like the rest of them, he doesn’t have anyone around to protect him. Sturns her eyes forward again, determined to pay the idea no more mind. She’s seen such things before and she won’t stop seeing them anytime soon, so she might as well just stop letting it all get to her. And just as well...

There’s people walking in front of her, at varying distances. She inspects each one of them, gauging the risk versus reward of picking any of them as potential marks. She hadn’t been careful enough, before, she should have practiced more. It’s no excuse that every time she uses her Semblance --

(“You little freak, stay out of my head!”)

Emerald bites her lip. It’s not wrong to have it, she tells herself for the millionth time, it’s not. It’s her Semblance, there can’t be anything wrong or bad or disgusting about it. Her mom is the one that’s wrong, and yet...She still feels the ache in her gut and sharp sting on her scalp whenever she musters up the nerve to use it. It’s what landed her out here on the gods-damned street, after all.

Whining’s not going to put food in your mouth, she chides herself. Just suck it up. Stupid brat.

Okay...There’s a small hole-in-the-wall cafe on the corner of the street. Outdoor seating. No fence or railing to block off the round picnic tables with umbrellas over them. A girl in a bright green raincoat, only a few years older than her underneath the big hood, is the only one still there and her eyes are glued to her Scroll. Her pocketbook, more of a backpack looking thing, is hanging on the back of her chair, by only one strap. Where in the hell does she think she lives, Emerald wonders, that she can be so careless?

Everyone else is either looking determinedly ahead on their courses or down at the sidewalk, as it and the street are both still running with water. No security or cops or unfairly beefy shop owners around to stop her. She can do it. She can do it. She just has to be brave. Reach for her Aura...

(“You stay away from me!”)

She has to fight not to let her face contort in rage. Why won’t Mom just go away? Not like that’s an abnormal thing for a parent to do, anyways...

Focus, you dumbass.

It's a simple enough thing. Even if she were just a dime-a-dozen purse snatcher, it would be simple. But she is a cut above other thieves by her inborn ability alone...even if her lack of experience shoves her roughly back down to their level again. As she approaches the girl, she works up her nerve and concentrates on her visible temple. For an instant, the girl sees a mysterious flash of bright red in the cafe window in front of her, and her head jerks up in shock. And while she squints at the window trying to figure out what in the hell she just saw, Emerald takes the strap of the pocketbook in her hand without looking or breaking stride, slipping it onto her own shoulder as if it belonged to her all along.

She doesn’t remember where she learned it, but she was taught that if you run when there’s no one chasing you, you only make yourself look more suspicious. And she has no intention of being the one to trigger another chase. She turns the corner, out of sight, and heads back towards her usual haunts back downtown. Head up, eyes alert, and if anyone gives her a second glance, she changes the bag on her shoulder into a dripping-wet black garbage bag. She isn’t sure that it’s a very convincing illusion -- she’s not good with details yet -- but she only has to do it a few times and it seems to work.

It’s almost an hour’s walk before Emerald finally makes it to somewhere that’s usually safe. She’d been sleeping in an underpass for the past few weeks, but too many people complained about the increasing amount of sheet tents and mattresses on the side of their road, and she’d had to bolt from a police raid in the middle of the night. Parking lots and garages are tempting to sneak into to sleep, but she always ends up chased out within hours by security. When she was younger, she’d slept on benches and outside closed stores, but now it seems like every place she looks, there’s stainless steel dividers in the benches and black iron spikes in the sidewalk, that tell her very clearly where they’d all like her to go instead. She’s heard that there’s a burgeoning tent city of some sort a distance outside the city proper, in the forest, but...It’s not like she’s ever actually seen a Grimm before, but she knows she’d never like to risk meeting one. It’s safer to stay here.

So, for the past couple days, Emerald been hiding out in a few different places far, far downtown, where there’s not quite as much police presence. There’s a school that was shut down a few months back and still not turned into anyplace else; the blacktop is partially out of sight, and so far, she hasn’t seen anything in the way of cops or security guards. It’s getting dark now, and the pawn shop will be closed by now. So she’ll hang onto the bag for the night, and stop in first thing in the morning.

When she walks onto it, she finds that she’s not quite alone. In the opposite corner of the chain link fence and dark brick, there’s a much different kind of family than before: a man trying to keep two toddlers and a girl too small and thin for Emerald to reasonably determine her age in his arms, as they keep trying to run away to play in the rain and puddles. They look at her like a pack of raccoons in the dark, eyes dark and glinting in the streetlights, the kids curiously and the father glaring as if preparing to have to claw her away. She glares back, hand moving to her hip; with a flash of her Semblance, the man sees the glint of a knife under her shirt. There’s a sliver of dry-ish space from the slant of the roof on each side, and she lays herself down on it. Satisfied that she won’t be bothered so long as she doesn’t move from here, she turns on her side to hide the pocketbook from sight and starts to paw through it.

Tissues, perfume, mints, eyeglasses case, pen, a...roll of duck-patterned duct tape for some reason? Those were all right, she guesses, but nearer to the bottom, and in the side pockets...Some green Lien cards and a layer of change, sanitary pads, full water bottle and bag of fruit snacks, a wallet with more cash and change, ID, and — !

Emerald’s brows furrow as she digs out a small fabric-lined box at the very bottom of the bag. It has an easily opened clasp, and she keeps it well inside the bag as she snaps it open. And when she does, she has to fight to keep the shock from showing on her face at the sight of a thin, gleaming chain, with a big jewel cut in a heart and set in silver in the center. The gemstone is beautiful, glittering green. Especially after a day like today, she can hardly believe her luck: all she has to do is keep it safe for the night and soon she’ll get...

Well, she has no actual idea of its value, she’s not smart like that, but she can still take it to the pawn shop first thing in the morning. Grisa will know what it’s worth, or if she doesn’t, one of her rotating employees/grandchildren will. It’s tempting to think about all the things she could buy, but it’s bad luck to get her hopes up before the new item is actually in her hands. And even then it could just as easily be snatched away from her.

Don’t you ever take anything for granted, baby doll, comes that soft, sinuous voice again at the back of her mind. The voice that comes within a hairsbreadth of caring about her. She can practically feel the sharp thumbnail running over her lip. Don’t you ever think that anything is yours to keep forever.

Emerald grits her teeth. Mom had absolutely lost her shit about Emerald’s newfound ability to get in her head, and now she won’t get out of Emerald’s head. It might be funny if it weren’t so annoying. And it wouldn’t be so annoying if Mom weren’t actually right about so many things. She replaces the necklace and slips the box into her pants pocket, hoping the outline doesn’t show too obviously.

She rolls over again, closing the pocketbook and clutching it to her chest with both arms like a teddy bear. She would use it as a pillow -- it’d be better than the thick black asphalt -- but this is safer. She’s not going to lose this like she lost her coat. The man across the blacktop is gathering the children to him the same way, eyes still alternating between glaring warningly at her and making sure that they are all accounted for. His age is uncertain, from the dinginess of his wrinkled skin and shaggy state of his hair and beard, as is what his relationship to the children might be. Might be a grandpa, or an older uncle of some kind. Might not be any blood of theirs at all.

But Emerald’s instincts say dad. And it’s another thought that makes her grind her teeth so hard she’s probably going to hurt herself one day.

She doesn’t know why she sometimes tries so hard to remember her father. Maybe it’s the idea, that Mom so spitefully hammered into her head, that she looks just like Dad and if she looks into her reflection, she’ll be looking at his face too. But even that doesn’t jog her memory. To her, after so long, Jade Sustrai is two blurry flashes of memory.

One, a retreating back that she had looked up at, as it passed through a pale-lit doorway, and then the slam of the door in her face. Had she watched obliviously, happily awaiting his return? Fearfully, begging him not to go? She doesn’t remember that part. She’ll never know.

Two, the sharp clap of his hand flashing out to grab Mom’s wrist, before her open palm slammed into his face. It was dark, but she thinks she remembers the angry curl of lips, a hiss of restrained fury -- from which one? Had it worked, or had it only made Mom angrier, hurt him worse? Had that hand ever moved to protect her, like that? She wonders...But she doubts it.

It had taken a longer time for her to accept her Semblance, freakish anomaly that it was, than it had taken her to accept the hot, nauseating weight in the pit of her stomach: the realization that her father had walked out of her life, right before her eyes, with barely a goodbye. For a dumb little kid like she had been, the concept of permanence was...not yet a permanent thing. It had taken an embarrassingly long time to get it through her head that Dad was gone for good.

(Her and Mama sitting on the stairs in front of the apartment, in the cold morning air.

She squirms; the stone is hard and steep. “Is Daddy coming back soon?”

Mama snorts, pulling a cigarette out of the carton lying against her leg. She doesn’t smoke very much, only when she’s angrier than usual. “He’s not coming back, Emerald. How many times have I told you?”

Plenty, but the repetition doesn’t make it make sense. Daddy just went to work, like he does every day. He always comes back. “His note said he would be back soon. That we just had to wait for him.”

Mama isn’t looking at her. The green plastic lighter in her other hand snaps twice and then flickers to life. “Don’t make me regret teaching you to read,” she says, too flatly for Emerald to tell whether she’s joking or not.

She doesn’t understand what Mama is so upset about. Maybe she forgot how it works. “It’s okay, Mama. Daddy leaves for a long time, sometimes. But he always comes back, and he brings stuff a lot of the time.”

She considers telling Mama about the magic trick Daddy did before he left, that made her heart glow. But Mama hates it when he does his disappearing trick, and when Uncle Akashi makes people dizzy with his hands. So maybe best to keep that a secret.

The ember at the end of the lit cigarette glows bright, an orange pinprick in her mother’s dark eyes. She takes a long drag and lifts her head up to breathe out a cloud of smoke, before she talks again. “Not this time, baby doll. It’s been two weeks and not a trace of either Jade or Akashi. No explanation except that stupid note. I can tell what happened. We’re on our own now.”

Emerald resists the urge to pout. That’s not true. “Daddy said he was coming back.”

Mama looks her in the eyes. The corner of her mouth tugs up into a smirk, but Emerald doesn’t see what’s funny.

“Emerald, if you go through your life just believing everything that everyone tells you, you’re going to have a bad time. I should never have trusted that rat bastard, let alone married him, but...Well.” She gestures with the cigarette at Emerald, who still isn’t quite sure what she means at times like this. “You’d better learn from this, baby girl. Don’t you ever trust anyone who can get inside your head that easily. Who can fuck with your head and your heart, and you can’t do anything about it.”

Something weird twists in her belly, and she doesn’t like it at all. It’s hard to look at Mama’s eyes, would be even through the smoke. “But he said. He promised.”

Mama sighs heavily, her smirk dropping. She doesn’t look mean anymore, she just looks...blank. Emerald still isn’t sure which expression she’s more afraid of. Her mother takes another long drag off the cigarette and blows upward again. “Your daddy said a lot of things he didn’t really mean.”

All of a sudden, her throat feels tight and it’s hard to talk. Her voice comes out in a tiny squeak instead. “Daddy said he loves us.”

Mama doesn’t answer at first. She looks at Emerald, not blinking, with a strange look on her face. Not loving, but not glaring either. Something softens the slightest bit in the lines of that face, and she reaches out towards her daughter with her free hand.

“Oh, baby doll,” she whispers, in that voice that’s almost gentle. Almost sad. She runs her fingertip lightly down Emerald’s cheeks and under her chin, back and forth; her one and only fully affectionate gesture. “What’s going to happen to you?”

Emerald is never sure whether she’s really looking for an answer, when she asks that question, but she figures she should give one anyway. “I don’t know, Mama.”

Mama makes a huffy kind of noise, that might be the beginning of a laugh. “Well. Maybe I’ll be around to find out, maybe I won’t.” She pauses, tilts her head. “You know, you’ve got Jade’s eyes exactly...With any luck, I won’t notice anything else of him in you.”

Emerald doesn’t know what’s lucky about that. “He’s coming back soon,” she tries again.

The fingers on her chin pause, too, grip a little tighter. Not enough to hurt, though. Mama sighs again, and there’s still a trace of sadness in her eyes. “I almost wish he had died instead. That would have been easier to get through your head, wouldn’t it? Might hurt less, too. At least he wouldn’t have wanted to leave.”

She still doesn’t understand: why would Daddy want to leave? Where would he go? Why wouldn’t he let her come along?

Mama is taking her hand off her, leaning back again. She’s checking her messages on her Scroll’s cracked screen, and taking one last long drag on her cigarette before putting it out on the sidewalk next to her.

“Come on, now. I’ve got customers coming,” she says as she stands up, wiping her hand on her tattered jeans and reaching up to tighten her thick ponytail. “Looks like you’ll be coming to work with me for a while.”

Emerald crosses her arms and scoots back on the step. She doesn’t like going to work with Mama instead of Daddy; she never gets to do anything to help and some of her customers act all weird. She’s even seen Mama have to pull that gun she keeps under her shirt on them a couple times, so they’ll stay away from her when they’re like that. She still gives them the stuff in her bag, anyway, so long as they’re able to give her the Lien in return.

But Mama is tugging her up by the arm, zipping up the thin jacket she’s wearing over her dress. “I said come on, Emerald. You can’t stay here. You want someone to break in and snatch you up, so you’ll never see me again?”

Emerald’s breath catches, and she grabs her mother’s leg with both arms. “No!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Mama, not roughly, pulls her leg from Emerald’s grip. She hitches up the straps of her backpack and starts down the street. Emerald hastily trots after her, and Mama reaches down for her. “Hold my hand, now. I don’t want you running off on me too.”

Emerald doesn’t like not being able to run around, but she does like the feeling of her mother’s hand clasped around hers. Mama holds her more tightly, when she cares to, but Daddy holds her soft and warm, enveloping her whole body in his arms. She hasn’t thought before about which embrace she likes better, but she knows she misses Daddy’s.

Mama is wrong, Emerald thinks, though she probably shouldn’t tell her so again. Daddy will come back. He promised her he would, and her daddy would never lie. All she needs to do is wait, and she’ll see him again soon. She knows it.)

She should have known better.

A wave of deep shame and embarrassment hits her when she feels that same tightness in her throat and stinging in her eyes. Five years since she’d last seen Mom, eight since she’d seen Dad, and still there are times when she can’t stop herself from bawling like a baby about it. She’s still so stupid, she still...

She can’t look at the father and his kids across the blacktop again. She can’t handle the longing, that grips her weak heart and squeezes tight, for the arms around her that she can barely remember. Even relative safety is a distant memory for her, now. She’d thought that unlocking her Semblance was a good thing; even at eight years old, she had known that being able to make someone see anything she wanted was a powerful thing. A useful thing. Cool, at least, as far as her young mind could see. She had thought her mom would be happy, if she were to show it to her...

Gods, I was just trying to make her happy...!

Mom throwing her out...She doesn’t want to remember it, how terrified she’d been, how furious Mom had been. She’s done her best to block it out, even if it does still stubbornly bleed through.

(“I don’t care where you go, just get away from me!”

She’s never seen Mama so scared, so angry, in her life. As for her, she’s frozen, tears slipping down her face, and all of a sudden she can’t speak.

“M-Mama...? I-I’m sorry...I, I was just — “

“I said I don’t care! I’m not letting something like you in my head! You really are just like your fucking father!”

“Mama!”

“Shut up! GET OUT!”)

Her mother’s hatred and resentment, mixed with her own until she can’t tell the two apart, still burns in her blood. She’d been right, that one time: grieving somebody who was lost but not dead was a far more complicated pain. But even so, she thinks she could have handled it, if she hadn’t been all alone...If she was like those little girls, piled up together in their dad’s embrace, it wouldn’t matter if her mom didn’t want her, if she didn’t have anywhere to live. She would have had a home.

But the father she had didn’t seem to think she deserved that. She wasn’t worth sticking around to protect. And she still has no idea what she had done wrong.

Emerald curls up tighter around the pocketbook, the rough and cracked asphalt digging into her soaked skin, and shuts her eyes tight against the hot tears. They’re slipping out again, mingling with the cold rainwater still running down her cheeks. She hates herself for crying again, over two people who couldn’t care less about her. Fuck him. Fuck her. Fuck them both for leaving her alone like this!

It hurts...!

Stop it. Shut up. Stupid brat. No one cares!

Forget about Mom and Dad. She has to keep herself under control, now. Every part of her hurts, she needs to sleep; no time to stay awake just to whine to herself all night.

Calm down...Calm down...Go to sleep, just go to sleep. Shh. Shhh...

Every muscle is tensed to run at a moment’s notice, should someone give her another rude awakening, and her eyes are shut painfully tight. The rain is still pelting her and pooling under her, and she feels like a drowned rat. Or a trod-upon one, soaked and sore to the bones.

It doesn’t matter. She’s fallen asleep feeling worse. All she has left to do is pray that no one will touch her tonight, and that her sleep will be dreamless.

~0~

Emerald wakes up in the morning getting the sense that only one of those prayers came true, but it doesn’t matter; whatever awful thing she’d dreamed that had woken her up still in tears, it fades from her head within a few minutes. Her body doesn’t seem to have been moved or touched, and everything is the same as it was yesterday in the pocketbook. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she slings it over her shoulder and walks as fast as she can the next ten blocks down to the pawn shop, scarfing down the bag of fruit snacks on the way there.

“Mm...Hmm.” Grisa holds the heart necklace up in front of her face and squints at it through her cataracts, then takes the jeweler’s telescope out of the little drawer by the register and squints through that too. “I’ll spare you the boring details: it’s pretty, but cheap. I can give you seventy Lien for them.”

“What?!” Emerald’s hand twitches with the urge to slam it against the counter in frustration. “No way it’s worth that little!”

Sarale, eldest of Grisa’s many grandchildren, sitting on the side stairs leading up to her apartment, pauses in cleaning her handgun to glance up at her through long golden bangs. She doesn’t move, though; she’s seen Emerald here enough to know that she isn’t one of the violent customers, and Emerald has seen enough of the older girl to know that starting a commotion in her family’s pawn shop would be a decidedly bad idea.

“You’re still not great at haggling, are you, Em?” she says mildly instead, and Grisa chortles.

Emerald looks down at the floor, all the fight quite suddenly blown out of her, and feels her face getting hot. “I...”

“No need to be sorry, dear,” Grisa assures her, setting the necklace down on the counter. “You’ve had a bit of a rough day, haven’t you?”

Emerald tries not to fidget, very conscious of the bruises on her arm, poking out from the sleeve of her shirt. They’ve darkened into obvious bluish-purple by now, and she dreads having to eventually look at the way the rest of them are mottling the skin of her torso.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t that bad,” she says, trying to sound sure about it. “Are...It’s a real gemstone, right? Not some fake plastic thing?”

“Oh, the jade is real. But it’s not worth much. It’s small and poorly cut, and the rest is silver-plated, not real silver. Start stealing from jewelers instead of from pocketbooks and you might get something valuable.”

Emerald can’t hold back an annoyed huff. How is she supposed to do that? “Figures that the jade is worthless,” she grumbles. It really is just her luck.

Grisa smiles. “You’ve got that talent of yours, you’ll be fine. Sniff out your brethren, why don’t you? Emeralds are worth more than jadeites and beryls put together.”

Emerald can’t resist a small smile. “Y-Yeah, I guess so.”

“Your dad’s old joke,” Sarale snickers. “Repeated it every damn time he came in here, I swear. Laughed every time, too.”

Smile gone. That hadn’t taken long at all. “Yeah, good for him,” she snaps, hoping she doesn’t sound too petulant. The next words slip out without her really thinking about it: “You really never heard anything from him?”

“Nope, not a thing. He didn’t tell anyone what he was doing or where he was going, except for his friend with the tail. I’ve got no clue what became of him.”

“He never...?” Emerald shakes herself. It doesn’t matter, she reminds herself. Dad doesn’t care and neither should she. “Never mind. Are...Are you sure that that’s all you can give me for the necklace?”

“As it is, yes. Tough break, hon.”

Story of her life. “I...” She starts to dig in the pocketbook again. There’s nothing else valuable in here, she knows, but still. “Is there...Is the bag itself worth anything?”

“Give it here.” Emerald sets the bag on the counter, and Grisa looks it over for several minutes, checking the brand and hardware. “Not the best and not new, but it looks like legitimate designer. Lucky you. Empty it out and throw it in with the necklace and I’ll bump you up to a hundred and fifty Lien, let’s say.”

Emerald nods, knowing it’s likely the best deal she’s going to get; she really isn’t good at negotiating terms for herself. “Great. Thanks, I mean.”

“Just business, dearie, don’t thank me. Here, I’ll throw this in, too, to make this less of a hassle — Rala, go up and get a bag out of the bag bag!”

Sarale holsters her gun and obediently trots up the stairs, where there is a large plastic bag on the landing just inside the apartment. Moments later, Emerald is handed a smaller plastic shopping bag to empty the contents of the pocketbook into, and the promised Lien for both items.

“Out of curiosity,” Sarale says as Emerald packs up. “What do you think you’ll spend your payday on?”

“Uh...Food, probably?”

“Fair enough.” Sarale goes back to polishing the gun, but Emerald suspects it’s only for show now; the older girl’s tawny eyes are fixed on her and not blinking. “Where have you been roaming around lately? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh, uh...Around.” Emerald can feel her face getting hot again and curses her quickness to embarrassment. “City’s big, lot of...ground to cover...”

“Hm. When are you going to go back to your mother? Do you think you could get me an acquaintance discount? I have some friends coming in from mid-Mistral next weekend, I want to show them a good time.”

She barely hears the rest of Sarale’s questions; the first one was too strong an electric shock, straight to her gut. “Wh...What?” she hears herself ask, more of a whimper than anything.

“Ignore Rala, dear; if I ever see her strung out on anything your mother sells, she’s out of my will.” Grisa is looking at her more gravely; Emerald will think of it in those terms because if she sees that roadkill look one more damn time she’s going to scream. “That woman doesn’t have much to do with us. But I hear that she’s been telling everybody who asks that you ran away from her, just like your dad. Has been for a long time now, after being so close-lipped about it.”

Emerald can feel herself trembling from head to toe. Mom’s been talking about her? Still thinking of her? Mom’s been...

“I...”

“So what’s up, Em?” Sarale smirks. “You trying to follow your daddy after all? I could swear I heard him say he was going to come back. Ought to be careful, you might just miss each other.”

Bile rises in Emerald’s throat, and she forces her next words out past it. “My mom’s a fucking liar,” she snarls, “and she and my shitheel dad deserved each other!”

Sarale blinks, raising her hands up defensively. “Hey, kid, easy now — “

“Shove it, Rala!” she and Grisa shout at the same time.

Her hands shake, and she clenches them hard into fists. She wants to...She just wants to...

Her eyes rove frantically around the wooden shelves of items behind Grisa, all up for sale. Jewelry and tools, of course, but then there’s old videos and electronics, a couple beat-up guitars, a dull katana that reaches almost to the top shelf, and...

She narrows her eyes at a pair of twin handguns, brownish, scratched up, and chipped. “Grisa, do those two guns work?”

“I don’t stock broken things, dear.”

“How much?”

“...Sixty Lien each.”

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to bump it down?”

“Sixty-five each, ammo and holsters included. Ammo by itself is fifteen per magazine.”

She figures that’s as good as she’ll get. She takes a deep breath, and it still feels like a good idea. She has more than that in cash, after the necklace and the bag and the money in there with it, so she’ll still have money left over for food. “I’ll take them.”

Grisa nods, and the exchange takes less than a minute. Emerald takes longer than that to figure out how to both load and clip the things to her belt, and gets more annoyed every second.

“...See, Gramma, I told you Beryl was bullshitting you.” Sarale smirks. “You owe me that katana now.”

“I do not and you should have gotten it in writing. Emerald, dear, do you need help with that?”

“I’m fine.”

Emerald turns on her heel and stalks for the front door. She hears the clatter of Sarale perking up again, and grits her teeth.

“Hey, Em, try not to get beat up too bad next time! I, at least, would miss having you around -- Ow, Gramma!”

Emerald allows herself a fleeting smirk of her own at the sound of something being thrown at the older girl as she leaves the shop, trying very hard not to slam the door behind her. She stalks down the cracked and dirty sidewalk, and by the grace of the gods no one spares her an even slightly menacing glance. Well...Not yet, anyways. But she’ll take what she can get.

She’s in more familiar territory now. Crumbling brownish-red brick buildings, barred and boarded-up windows and doors, the heavy and lingering odor of sewage and unwashed bodies in the air: the closest thing to home she knows. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she figures it doesn’t matter yet; she has nothing but time on her hands.

The weight of the twin pistols at the small of her back feels strange, but she’ll get used to them; they’re not wholly unfamiliar to her. She remembers being little, in the sewer-smelling alley next to their building, with empty soda cans and beer bottles set up as targets on the closed end, and her mother standing at the open end, dark green eyes burning into her back, just waiting for her to screw up so she can yell at her for it. She remembers her small soft hands trying to fit properly around Mom’s gun, how big and cold and heavy the metal had felt as she clumsily lifted and aimed.

She cannot believe her mother’s nerve: lying about her, covering up what she did! She...She has to know what she did was horrible and wrong, but still she won’t admit to it or try to fix it. She can’t tell what makes her sicker, that or her father waltzing on out of her life like she doesn’t even exist. If she ever sees either of them again...

Hesitantly, she reaches back and runs a finger over the butt of one of her new guns. It’s longer than a standard handgun, but when she wraps her hand around it...It feels just right in her grip.

The coolness of the metal jars her back out of her own thoughts somewhat. She lifts her head up a little higher to look around at where she finds herself now, and it takes more effort than usual to make her brain do that instead of once again calculating the distance between here and her mother’s place (much closer now than it had been this morning). She catches the scent of frying fat and burnt vegetables on the air, not unfamiliar. Ah. She’s wound up right by Okela’s shop.

Of all the back-alley shops and eateries around her old neighborhood, this is probably the one that’s the least transparent about how...untrustworthy the food is. Passing by the alley that their back door leads into, she can see a scruffy young man with a bloodied switchblade in one hand and a dead possum in the other, presenting the animal to the baggy-eyed cook leaning in the doorway. Okela looks it over, deems it fit for consumption, and beckons the man inside. Emerald feels a reflexive churn in her stomach, but doesn’t sound so bad, money and a free bowl of her mystery meat soup. She’s eaten it before, when she can afford it, but never been able to catch any animals quick enough to earn it.

Rats and mice are too fast and not big enough to be worth the effort. Most of the bigger vermin — skunks, possums, raccoons, the like — only come out at night, but she has distinct broad-daylight memories of starting to dig into a trash can for food and coming face to snout with a large raccoon who had decided that this trash was his, so maybe she’d get...Well, it would be lucky this time around.

And as it happens, after passing by two separate conspiracy theorists screaming on street corners about how the Mistral Council is plotting to kill them all, a minor street brawl between a human gang and a Faunus gang, and one pigeon being hit by a speeding police car, she spies it: a shady side street, a pair of ripped-open garbage bags, and one fat raccoon happily digging into the spoils. Jackpot.

Emerald creeps into the alley and slips one of the guns out of its holster. She’ll find a place to practice dual wielding another time; now she just needs to get the hang of firing one gun again. Slowly, she raises the gun, pointing it at the head of the unsuspecting raccoon. It’s smaller than a soda can, but the closer distance...probably makes up for it? Much as she tries to forget, she still feels those eyes boring into her back.

(“This is easy, anyone can do it.” Sharp fingers yanking on her hair, nails digging into her arm. “Don’t fuck it up, now.”)

Emerald swallows a growl. Get the fuck out of my head, Mom.

She can do this, now. She’s more comfortable with a gun in her hand than a blade. Dad had never bothered to teach her the intimacies of his preferred weapon...small among all the things her father had never bothered to do for her, but it burned just as badly as any of the others. Both of them are nothing more than a raw open wound in her chest, that over the years she’s only learned how to patch over, not close up.

But even so, when she clicks the safety off and steadies her hold on the gun, it’s that dark, thin blur of a back, with a short green ponytail hanging down onto it, that she sees as her target. That’s where all of her problems had really begun, hadn’t they? With that retreating back and slam of the door, she had been alone. Alone, for good, even if she hadn’t realized it yet.

She can’t fix it. She’ll never fix it, not with a bullet or anything else. But still, the image doesn’t go away.

Emerald pulls the trigger, and blood flies.

#emerald sustrai #RWBY #kaen's fics

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