#I had to go job centre and it started to rain

[strawbabysweet]

How I feel rn :3

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 3

Source for pic

Trouble 3

Word Count: 4959

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I should have chapter 4 already finished... but it's not completed yet... I haven't written almost anything this week! I know with the hollidays it will be hectic around here, but I have a few days where the office is going to be closed, so maybe I can write a bit more! Fingers crossed! Until then, please enjoy the calmness before the storm!

Masterlist

“Morning, Bug.” Shanks fills a mug of coffee for you and sets it down on the table near your plate of bacon and eggs, beside a bouquet of wildflowers. 

“Morning, Dad. Thanks for the coffee, but aren't the flowers a bit too much? It's not my birthday…” You mumble between yawns. 

“They're not from me…” Shanks smirks and nods at a note that's tucked in with the silk ribbon. 

Brow rising, your fingers brush the petals of a deep crimson poppy before they catch the note between them. ‘Wild and beautiful, just like you.’

What? Who? 

Despite the lovely gesture, you can't shake the slightest feeling of unease, it tugs at your stomach, leaving you queasy and suspicious. 

“Who's it from?” Shanks tries to hide his curiosity but falls short when he reaches over your shoulder to glimpse the note. 

“I have no idea.”

“Come on! Not even the slightest hint?” You shake your head while your mind conjures up images of a slightly not-safe-for-work dream you had with a certain green-haired cop, and you blush unintentionally. 

Obviously. Shanks picks it up. 

“You and Zoro seemed pretty cosy when I arrived yesterday…”

“It's not from him… I think.” You deflect the implications, not wanting to read too much into it yourself. “He’s not the type for grand gestures.”

Shanks hums in agreement while placing his coffee cup in the sink. “I see what you mean.” But then he places his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at his unbearable smirk. “Though do not underestimate a man in love.”

“Dad!” You feel your ears getting hot as you get up suddenly, looking for a vase to set the flowers on. 

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs. 

“He’s not… we… we’re just friends! I just got back.” You fuss with the flowers until they’re all spread beautifully on the vase and then set them at the centre of the table.

Shanks pouts and stares at you through the flowers, across from you. “Friends.” He air quotes with two fingers. “I’ve been there, Bug.”

“Agh! You’re impossible, Dad.”

But he might also be right. Because if last night was any indication, you and Zoro might be crossing the ‘just friends’ barrier soon. 

And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

-*-

Shanks tells you to put a hold on your job hunt because he’ll be gone for about three weeks to a month for a horse show on an island in the South Blue and he’ll need you to take care of the animals and manage the farm chores. 

So you spend the next week getting reacquainted with most of your father’s tasks in addition to the ones you had taken over ever since coming back. 

The gifts keep coming. 

Every morning there are chocolates, or flowers, or stuffed animals, little trinkets… The notes are rather simple, always evoking your beauty, but short and nondescript. You are no closer to knowing who they’re from now than you were on the first day you got them.

Shanks keeps hinting that it might be Zoro, but you doubt that very much. Besides the fact that he’s not one for romantic gestures, he would’ve said something about the gifts after six straight days.

And it’s not like you haven’t been chatting… not in person, since you’ve been busy at the farm and he’s been pulling double shifts to have the Saturday off again, but you text every day.

Short texts, to the point, much like Zoro is, but he always asks how you are and if you need anything. 

And knowing he’s trying to take care of you leaves a very warm feeling in your chest. Especially because your clumsiness almost brought you to the clinic twice just this week. You have to thank whichever deity is watching over you because, even though you hurt yourself, it’s never serious enough to send you to the hospital. 

“When are you leaving?” You ask Shanks while packing beverages, muffins and a cake you’ve baked for today’s chosen group activity. 

“Let’s see, today’s Saturday, Beckman says his helper will arrive Monday morning to keep in charge of his farm, so sometime Monday afternoon, Bug. Why? Missing your Daddy already?”

You are.

“No! I just want to make sure you carry all of your medicine and that you have Dr. Law’s emergency contact with you, in case you need it–”

“I’m not going to drag Law all the way to the South Blue just because–”

“I called him and he said you should call anytime, so you’re going to call if you need him!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Shanks has got to be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. 

“Where are you going?” He hisses when you swat his hand away as he tries to steal a salty bacon muffin you’re storing in a container. Then you relent and let him have it.

“Just one, Dad! We’re going on a picnic in the park.” You say with a grin. “Nami organised it, of course. We’re going to spend the day hanging out, playing games, and socializing.” 

Shanks nods, never breaking your gaze, while trying to surreptitiously steal another muffin. This time you slap his hand with the lid of the container, and he yelps. His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk. “Is Officer Zoro going?”

You’re sure your nonchalant look can’t disguise the crimson blush tainting your cheeks, but you try to pay it no mind.  “Yes. And Luffy, and Usopp, Chopper, Sanji–”

“I was going to tell you to be careful, but I’m sure Officer Zoro is going to keep you safe from all harm.” Shanks taunts and you seethe, hands flying to your hips. 

“What are you, Dad, ten?” He guffaws as he successfully manages to distract you and steals another muffin before sprinting away from you and the kitchen.

“Be safe, Bug! Have fun!”

Seriously. How is this man a father?

-*-

Nami swings by your house with Vivi to pick you up for the picnic. You notice Robin’s absence in the car, and both girls giggle.

“Sabo’s picking Robin up. They’ll meet us there.” Vivi answers, and your mouth hangs open.

“Are they a thing?”

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long.” Nami laughs as she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror while waiting for the light to turn green. “Much like you and Zoro, I think.”

You choke on your own saliva, and it takes you a good minute to regain proper breathing functions, all while Nami and Vivi erupt into cackles and giggles. 

“We’re just friends!” You say after you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure, honey. We all believe that.” Vivi turns on the front seat to pat your knee in a condescending manner while you blush. 

“There’s so much heat coming off you two whenever you’re close that I don’t know how you still haven’t spontaneously combusted.” Nami quips, and you purse your lips. She’s not wrong there. “I mean, you’ve always sort of clicked, but now… daaaaamn!”

You sigh and bite your lip, trying to contain a giggle from erupting. “Who else is going to meet us there?” You ask, changing the subject and Nami shakes her head, knowing all too well what you’re doing, but not pressing on the matter. 

-*-

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and the park is the perfect setting for the beginning of a wonderful midday. There are rows and rows of trees, shade galore, small cobblestone pathways for long walks, and even a small creek providing a soft lull alongside the soft giggles of children. 

You and the girls are setting up rows of blankets on the grass, by the shade of the tall trees, when the group begins to arrive. You lift your head, hand sheltering your eyes from the sun, and scan the crowd. Luffy, Barto, Usopp, Kaya, and Chopper are approaching the treeline. They probably rode together.

A slight breeze dishevels your hair as your eyes linger behind, but there’s no green mane of hair in sight yet. An absent sigh leaves your lips before you spy Nami’s knowing smirk aimed your way.

She doesn’t say anything, but you blush anyway. Her unspoken words linger around you like a thick fog. You are eager to see Zoro. She knows it, you know it, hell, anyone who saw you two interact lately knows it. 

But you vow to retain some semblance of dignity and pretend to fuss over the blankets and small folding chairs. You’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t even see him approach.

“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

The smile that graces your lips is instant and unstoppable. You turn slightly and bite your lower lip when your eyes meet his. Why does every shirt he wears seem so tight against his muscles?

“Hardly! I’m just setting up chairs!” But as you deliver the words, the chair you were opening snaps shut, almost catching your fingers, and you yelp. 

“You’re a menace.” His tone is both amused and resigned, almost as if he knew something of the kind would happen, was expecting it, even. 

“It attacked me!” You defend yourself weakly, a giggle bubbling up in your chest because he is right. You are a menace.

Zoro ends up helping you set the chairs, and you don’t even try to stop him. Both because you’re very likely to end up either hurting yourself or breaking a chair, and because he keeps brushing his shoulders and hands with yours, and the touch is welcomed. 

Robin and Sabo arrive with flushed cheeks - you can almost see Nami registering that fact for later probing - and soon after, Franky and Brook, two older men you still haven’t met but Luffy quickly introduces you to, saying they’re also part of the gang. 

You see Sanji already setting up food on the blankets, and he greets you warmly. “Hi, Sanji. You rode with Mosshead?”

“Oi?” Zoro snaps, and you ignore him.

“I did, Madame, and it was the most unpleasant ride of my life. Please remind me not to do it again.”

You giggle when Zoro’s brows knit together, his hands clenched into fists. “Tch, shitty cook, next time you ride with me, it will be in my patrol car and I’ll be dragging you straight to prison.”

Sanji starts to fume, his pursed lips crumpling the cigarette dangling from his lips, and you grimace. “Hey, hey, boys, it was just a joke!”

Nami sighs as they butt heads and continue arguing. “Never mind that.” She tells you. “Any chance they get to get up close and personal, they take it. They have a weird bromance thing going on.” She raises her hands defensively in the air. “I swear, for a moment there I thought they were going to be a thing, but Sanji loves women too much and Zoro is a man with a goal-oriented mind. Even if it’s someone he set his sights on a lifetime ago.”

Your brow raises at her as she smirks that all-knowing smirk. But she leaves it at that and stands in the middle of the boys, dragging Sanji by the scruff of his dress shirt, telling him the girls are hungry, which promptly sets him back to the task of setting up the food. 

“Shitty cook…” You hear Zoro mumble as he sets his hands in his pockets and kicks a blade of grass. It’s cute how flustered he gets. Then his eye sets on you and he frowns with a low grumble. “Oi, I didn’t forget you called me Mosshead.”

You set a hand on your heart, feigning repentance. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Mosshead. I forgot your title.”

“Trouble…” He lowers his tone in mock warning, and you smile, taking a step back, hands in a defensive stance. 

“Lord Moss, Knight–” Your antics are cut short by a piercing yelp when Zoro jumps and tries to catch you, but somehow, you swerve away from his grasp and start to run, an unbridled laugh filling your lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking!”

“Repentance doesn’t dissolve the crime! Come here, Trouble!” He sprints, though you suspect he’s hardly even trying, and you cackle, running faster, the voices of the group fading into the distance. 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Maybe you should’ve measured your words, because as soon as he hears the challenging tone in your voice, he sprints faster, and you barely have time to breathe before his arm wraps around your waist and he swirls you in the air, making you scream and laugh before he pulls your back against his chest.

Heart pounding against your ribs, cheeks flushed from running and breath catching in your throat, you feel your legs shaking when Zoro’s warm breath tickles your neck. “Gotcha.” He whispers, and you notice he’s not even out of breath while you look like you ran a marathon. 

The world dissolves into just this moment. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees are nothing but background noise to the deafening pounding in your chest and the buzzing in your ears. 

Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch Zoro’s eye fixed on you, a wild smirk on his lips. “What now, officer? Are you going to arrest me?”

Damn. That was supposed to come out playfully, not sultrily. Right?

“Depends.” Did his voice get huskier? “Are you going to resist arrest, Trouble?”

You feel your throat bobbing up and down at all the wild fantasies running through your mind. The way he uses that nickname manages to send shivers down your spine and heat straight into your core. 

“Obviously.” You sound breathless, and it's a good thing you can blame that sorry state on the run, or you wouldn't know how to explain it. 

“Figures.” He chuckles low, and you feel it rumbling in his chest. Then, with a swift movement, he turns you, bends his knees, and hoists you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Wha–”

“Let's go.” Your flush deepens as you feel his strong hand against the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “The humiliation will teach you not to call me Mosshead.”

“Come on, Zo, I said I was sorry!” You whine, and he stiffens, his pace slowing for a beat, and you feel his shoulders shake slightly. Then he resumes his pace. 

“I like that.”

You stop pounding your fists against his back and raise your brow. “What? Me apologizing?”

He grunts and keeps walking, the blanket and your laughing friends nearly in sight. “That nickname. Way better than Mosshead.”

Oh! Zo! Another small blush creeps into your cheeks, but before you can reply, Nami whistles. “What you got there, Zoro?”

You hear your friends laughing and bury your face in your hands, feeling mortified. “Someone’s been naughty.” Zoro replies with a smirk and an edge of amusement in his tone. 

“Seriously?” You grumble, pushing against his back to try and wiggle out of his embrace, though it’s all for naught because he has an iron grip on your legs. 

“Well, either set her down so we can all eat or take her to naughty jail and punish her. Away from our sight, please.” 

“Nami!” You yell, exasperated, but Zoro merely chuckles, swerving right as if changing directions. 

“Naughty jail it is, then.”

“No, no!” You whimper. “I’m sorry!” Chopper stares at both of you, not sure if you’re being serious, so you try to take advantage of him and stretch your hand. “Help me, Chopper!”

He reaches his hand out before Nami swats it away. “Let them be, Chopper. They need some alone time.”

You seethe at Nami, a pout on your lips. “Traitor.”

Zoro lets out a low chuckle before settling you down at the edge of the blanket. “Learned your lesson, Troublemaker?”

You steady yourself, hands against his chest, and a permanent blush tattooed on your cheeks. “Damn you. I’m never calling you Mosshead again. You won.”

“I see you’re a fast learner.” His smirk is impossibly smug. “Zo’s fine, though.” Then he turns his back on you, opens the small cooler, and takes out a beer, cracking it open with one hand and chugging at it without another look back at you. 

And, damn it, if that doesn’t mess with your heart.

-*-

“Who wants another drink?” You ask and count the raised hands before getting up, heading towards the cooler to satiate your friends’ thirst. Zoro moves his hand before you reach it, and smooths the blanket before you can trip on its raised edge.

You smile at him, but he’s not even looking at you. His eye is shut, one arm behind his neck as he leans against the tree, though you know very well he’s attentive to everything. You pass the drinks around, then return to get your own.

“Watch your head.” Zoro mumbles, and you raise your brow but don’t heed his advice and, therefore, hit a low branch of the tree, releasing a string of curses while rubbing your forehead. “When are you going to start listening to me, Trouble?”

“When you stop sounding like a smug jerk.” You mouth, annoyed at his attentiveness and at how he seems to perceive danger before you even realise it’s there. He chuckles and you retrieve your drink, returning to your seat.

After a while of relaxing in the shade, Luffy drags everyone to a frisbee game. The boys are all down to play, but the girls just sit by a bench near the open space the boys chose to throw the frisbee and tackle each other. 

You sit on the back of the bench, a case of water bottles by your feet because you know the boys will be thirsty soon. Vivi sits on the grass in front of Nami’s legs, and Robin and Kaya are on the bench. 

After a small chit-chat about meaningless stuff, you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you. “So I’ve been getting a lot of gifts lately…”

Four heads whip your way, and you sigh, already expecting that reaction and the bombardment of questions that follow. So you raise your hands, and they stop to let you continue. Though you decide to focus on the game in front of you instead of the way they’re all staring at you.

You especially focus on a very athletic green-haired man who constantly gazes up to where you are before focusing back on the game. 

“It’s flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals… It started last weekend, after the party at Luffy’s. They have notes, but nothing personal. No name, no nothing… I don’t know who they’re from, and I don’t even know if I should be flattered or freaked out by them.”

“How do they make you feel?” Robin asks, and you shrug, not quite knowing how to answer that question.

“The first ones made me feel good. I thought they were from– I thought I might know who they were from. But since he didn’t say anything about it, I doubt they're from him. So now they just feel weird…”

“Honey, we all know you’re talking about Zoro.” Nami says in a very condescending manner, and all the girls agree.

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. You’re so obvious it hurts. 

“Fine, yes. I thought they might’ve come from him, at first. But he’s not one for romantic gestures.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” Nami quipped back, a smirk tugging her lips as her eyes fell back on the game. Sure enough, Zoro’s eyes are back on the bench - on you, to be more specific. “I think it’s quite romantic the way he’s always checking to see if you’re safe. Keeping you away from trouble and making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

A small blush creeps its way into your cheeks. It is quite romantic. “That’s just Zoro being Zoro. He’s a cop. He protects and serves.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure he would like to serve you.” Nami giggles and all the girls try to stifle their own laughs. “But you’re wrong about that. Sure, he’s always attentive to any kind of threats, but it’s different with you.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds maddeningly against your sternum. 

“She means that Zoro doesn’t usually go out of his way to keep people from tripping on stuff or from bumping their head. And with you, he’s always extra careful.” Robin finishes with a small smile. 

“Like the way he’s playing now, but keeps looking at you to see if you’re still in one piece. It’s like he’s expecting you to spontaneously combust or something.” Kaya adds with a giggle. 

“It’s very endearing.” Vivi finishes, and your blush deepens, so you bury your head back into your hands, stifling a loud groan. 

“But you’re still right.” Nami continues as if you’re not breaking down in front of them. “I don’t think he’s the one leaving the gifts…” She laughs suddenly. “But there’s one way to tell for sure.”

You raise your head from your hand cocoon to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Zoro is already halfway to the bench and you squeak. “Nami…”

“Hey, Zoro!” She starts with a wave of her hand. You see Zoro raise his eyebrow at her, his long strides bringing him closer to the bench. 

Shit.

He’s sweaty all over. Fat droplets of perspiration drop from his temples to his perfect jawline and neck, and you gulp, feeling hot and bothered. So, it comes as no surprise that when he reaches his hand to grab a bottle between your legs, you lose your balance and fall back on the bench.

Yelping, you expect to hit the floor with a dry thud, air escaping your lungs and sharp pain blinding you. Instead, you feel a strong hand wrap around your forearm and tug hard, then your face being squished against a muscular, sweaty chest.

Zoro saved you from an ugly fall. Again.

“Seriously, Trouble? Why?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but with an edge of exasperation lacing it. “I’m starting to feel like I have to be with you 24/7 or you’re going to end up in the hospital.”

Your breath is still leaving your lips in ragged gasps because of the slight scare of facing an inevitable fall, and your face is still pressed against Zoro’s chest. You feel the girls’ gaze on both of you and Zoro seems completely unfazed by it, while saying you’re embarrassed would be the understatement of the year.

So you disentangle yourself from the predicament that is Zoro’s muscles and laugh it off, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “Ah, thank you. I got… distracted.”

“By what?” He asks while taking a sip of water.

“Well, Zoro,” Nami begins, and he shifts his focus to her, “we were discussing who could be her secret admirer, and then you showed up. Curious.”

“Secret admirer?” Zoro’s gaze falls back on you, his brow scrunched.

“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just–”

“She’s been getting gifts. Flowers, chocolates, love declarations…” Why is Nami exaggerating? Is she trying to fish for information or make Zoro jealous? “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”

He drinks the water in three long gulps before answering, his scowl now permanently etched on his lips. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”

You look down and bite your lower lip. You knew it wasn’t him, but maybe, secretly, there was still a little part of you that hoped he could be showering you with that kind of attention. 

“Well, I just thought–” Nami begins, but she’s swiftly interrupted by Zoro, whose eyes can’t seem to leave your figure.

“When I want someone, I make it clear I’m interested. You’ll know.” He finishes drinking the water just as your eyes meet his, and the fire burning there scalds and melts. Was he telling you he’s interested? Was he saying he’s about to make a move?

With a smirk, he turns his back, grunts a gruff ‘try not to fall again, Trouble’, and gets back to the game, leaving you more confused than ever. 

“Did he–” Nami starts.

“Nobody says anything. We’re going to act like nothing happened.” You mumble before getting up and chugging down an entire bottle of water yourself to try and calm your nerves.

It doesn’t work.

-*-

The frisbee game makes everyone tired - and hungry - so, after all the bellies are filled again, the crew is relaxing in the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon and the lulling sounds of the park. 

Chopper, Usopp, Luffy, and Barto are enjoying a card game. Franky seems interested, but he’s only overseeing and throwing advice that only seems to make Usopp lose the game. Robin has a book in her hands and Sabo’s head on her lap, his eyes closed with a blissful smile on his lips. 

You have serious doubts that she's paying attention to the book, especially since she seems to be stuck on the same page for over ten minutes, but you don’t say anything. Kaya is braiding Vivi’s hair and Nami is snapping photos of the crew, taking little candid shots with her cellphone. Brook is gracing everyone with a nice, mellow song on his violin - he's a wonderful musician - and Zoro seems to be sleeping peacefully, leaning against the tree.

Everything seems peaceful, quiet, and idyllic. 

But you can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. It’s like someone is watching you, but you can’t quite pinpoint who or where. It’s a prickling on your neck, something you’re already growing so used to that you start to think you should have this checked out by a doctor. 

With a heavy sigh, you stand up, stretching your arms to justify that action. “I’ll be back soon.” You say softly to Nami, who’s closer to you and she nods. Then, you look around before taking a step. The park is one big open space - with the exception of some trees here and there - except for the dense treeline behind you. 

So that’s where you’re headed. 

-*-

Zoro senses you getting up and opens his eye slowly, following you with his gaze and scowling when you don’t see the tree root sticking out and stumble a little before steadying your pace. 

You’re such a damn klutz.

And damn it, if he doesn’t want to be there to catch you and protect you from everything. 

His heart constricts slightly at the thought, and he sighs softly. He thought absence had made him forget how he felt about you. He even had some ‘relationships’ while you were away. Wait… can he really call something that never went past three months a real relationship? He never truly bonded with those women. Never truly cared.

No one ever made him feel the way you did.

The way you do.

But time and distance did nothing but make him pine harder for you. When Nami told him casually that you were returning, he almost didn’t believe her. You didn’t even come back for any of the holidays or to say ‘hi’, let alone come back for good after experiencing life in the big city. 

But you returned.

And then he thought he wouldn’t quite forgive you for having literally abandoned them. No text, no email, no letter, nothing. He would be salty, at least. Grumpy and upset, at most.

But he forgave you instantly. 

One look at your dishevelled form, chasing a goddamned tire with dirt all over your clothes and face, and he was a lovestruck teenager again. 

Fucking heart, what a useless organ. 

All those thoughts forgotten, he simply reached out. And you reached back, almost like no time had passed between you, and you could basically continue your story where you left off. 

And he was willing to try.

Though he didn’t want to rush too fast - damn Nami should just stop intruding and let you two figure things out yourselves. He’d get there. He almost kissed you already, so the feeling is mutual. 

He’s got time.

Sitting up, he watches as you peek behind trees, a cautious demeanour to your posture making him raise his brow. What the hell are you doing?

“Just go to her, dumbass.”

“Shut up, Witch. Mind your own business.”

Nami sticks her tongue out at him and snaps a picture of his grouchy face before turning her phone towards you and snapping another candid shot. 

“You look like a lost puppy in love. It’s cute, you know? The way you keep looking out for her.” Zoro feels his ears heat up and leans back again, trying to close his eye and return to a state of relaxation, but he can’t very well do that when you’re doing God-knows-what near the trees, looking creepily at everywhere and everything. “Just make sure you make your move soon… or maybe that secret admirer will one-up you and poof!” She makes an exploding gesture with her hand, and Zoro scowls at her. 

“You’re insufferable.” He quips before getting up and dusting his jeans.

“Word of the day? How smart of you, Zoro.” She giggles when Zoro passes by her and messes up her hair with his hand, earning an indignant gasp from the orange-haired girl. “I just went to the salon, you brute!”

Zoro smirks at her reaction and starts pacing towards you, Nami’s antics behind him. Well… all except one…

‘Make sure you make your move soon…’

Perhaps he should. He doesn’t want to lose you before even having the chance to have you.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

|Chapter 4|

[lokisprettygirl]

Rain to his Fire (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon 80s Au) (18+)

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summary: In 1985, you were assigned as a custodian in the King's Landing Psychiatric inpatient and wellness center after your mother's passing. Your job was mundane and boring, but that was until a new patient arrived, a young man with a wild and eccentric personality, harbouring a secret that will change your life forever.

Warning: 18+, discussion of mental health (it's a fic based in a mental health facility), the fic would contain several mentions of several disorders like mpd, did etc, if something triggers you don't read, smoking.

“Room 393 needs cleaning up, new guy is coming” you heard your supervisor Mona so you sighed and quickly nodded. Working as a custodian in a mental health facility wasn't ever really a dream job for you but you didn't have any option at the moment. Your mother had worked all her life for the center and when she passed, as per her request beforehand, the job was immediately offered to you, and you had debts to pay so you couldn't really deny that offer.

At thirty you didn't really see your life heading towards anything better anyways and you didn't really despise working here. Helping people feel good at times. Your job wasn't limited to cleaning services, you would often get assigned to patients who needed a caregiver for physical and emotional needs.

King's landing psychiatric inpatient and wellness center was a six floor building at the outskirts of London, it was established in 1955 and your mother had started her job the same year, it's been thirty years now and two years since she had passed, she was living nearby because she was married and had a child, you on other hand didn't want to travel back n forth so you chose to live here itself as a permanent live in staff of the wellness center.

You were accustomed to seeing patients coming in for various disorders, most were delusional at worst or suffered from some sort of dysphoria. However, the patients at the King's Landing Wellness Center were not usually considered dangerous and you had never felt threatened by any one of them except a few women who lashed out at you and pushed you around last year. But with time, you had learned to provide them with the care and attention they needed instead of judging them for the outburst.

“Are you listening y/n?” You snapped back to reality as Mona called your name and gathered your cleaning cart to go fix room 393, there was this girl that had just gotten released from the facility, Tanya, she was a shy, quiet girl in her mid twenties with a debilitating case of multiple personality disorder.

You mostly kept to yourself at the facility as you didn't want to get involved or too overly attached with the patients.

The moment you took the mattress off to deep clean the bed, you discovered a piece of paper underneath. Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to open it. Once you saw the writing on the paper, a feeling of unease coursed through your body, the words seemed almost ominous

“They are going to hurt me. I know, I'll never get out of here, if you find this please make sure to check up on me please”

You sighed before you folded the paper and placed it inside your apron quickly before it would get lost. What did she mean you wondered? The centre was under the supervision of three doctors. Doctor Vis was a man in his early forties and he was the most feared of all three because of his unorthodox methods of treatment but the other two doctors, Lisa and Darren seemed more approachable.

As you made your way out of room 393, you saw Doctor Vis standing in the hallway, having a conversation with another man. The other man stood with his back against the wall while Doctor Vis stood uncomfortably close to him, he was handcuffed so you assumed that he was being aggressive in his therapy session, as you walked past them you looked at the man briefly and normally you'd have looked away but this time you couldn't for some reason, he had a shiny silver hair that you had never really seen on a man before and it caught your eye immediately. The uniform he had on wasn't a surprise as it was a dress code for the patients, a white shirt and same coloured trousers.

His eyes met yours briefly and he smirked so you looked away immediately ,

“You didn't tell me you hired such beautiful chicks around here to be your servant-” Daemon had barely finished his sentence before Vis grabbed his collar to warn him. Vis looked as you walked past them and turned to make left into the hallway, disappearing out of their sight.

“Don't make this more difficult than it already is you moron”

Dr. Vis escorted Daemon into the room where he was immediately uncuffed. With the doctor now gone, Daemon let out an angry roar before throwing the chair into the room's window, shattering it into pieces.

“New guy is here” you mumbled as you reached the canteen. The rest of the staff members, including those from the pantry and cleaning services, were already gathered at the table. Shyla, who was the same age as you approached you. But in contrast to you, Shyla appeared to have a backup plan in mind after her tenure here.

“Oh god have you guys seen him, he's really hotttt in a really weird way”

You gulped as she said that, she always lived on the edge, it was unprofessional and unethical to talk about patients this way. Besides, he wasn't hot at all.

“Cut out with the heart eyes girl he must be a cuckoo to be here”

Another woman, Dina , intervened as she whispered very quietly, you didn't appreciate her language but then she wasn't wrong, sane people didn't come here.

“Hey y/n, new patient broke the window in 393, clean it up”

Mona suddenly entered the canteen so you sighed but then you were left feeling confused.

“How did he break it? Those windows are supposed to be unbreakable” you asked her curiously as the windows in the patient's room were specifically designed to withstand extreme conditions and were built to be unbreakable for security reasons.

“Don't question what's and how's, do your job girl” she glared at you so you picked up your cleaning cart again.

As you entered room 393, you spotted the new patient on the bed, seemingly engrossed in a book. Your brow furrowed as you took in the sight of the debris of shattered glass scattered around the room. Quickly, you grabbed a broom and began the cleaning process, starting from the corners to ensure that you picked up every last shard. As you swept, you couldn't help but feel puzzled as to how the window was broken in the first place,

“You shouldn't be doing such things, they are not afraid of sending violent patients to the lone ward” you mumbled so he looked up from his book and then glanced at you from top to bottom before he let out a snicker.

“Awnnn do you get paid to offer advice around here or cleaning is your only area of expertise?”

You glared at him as he said that but you remained calm, you couldn't raise your voice with patients even though you had been wanting to do it for a long while now.

“Sir im just-” you cringed internally as you addressed him as sir, it wasn't a norm but then you didn't really know his name yet. He had changed out of his uniform so you couldn't even read the name tag.

“Do your fucking job girl and get out”

You cut back on your words as he spoke rudely to you, perhaps he was admitted for extreme anger issues, whatever it was you just wanted to get out and not see him at least for a day.

You missed Tanya, she was a sweet girl, and you hadn't forgotten the note you had found under her bed this morning but then she wasn't exactly stable in her mind, people often scribbled down their most intrusive thoughts in their free time, and there was abundance of that around here. Besides you had bid her goodbye, she had hugged you warmly and she seemed happier for once.

During the lunch service you saw his smug face again as he sat down in the corner of the cafeteria, his eyes met with yours and he gave you a small smile but you didn't return it. Though you didn't want to take his words personally, he was dealing with something and that's why he was here.

“Mrs Rodriguez, are you finished with your food?” You asked the elderly lady so she snapped out of her thoughts and nodded but as you raised your hand forward to pick up her plate she grabbed your hand,

“Simon thinks i should eat less” she mumbled almost fearfully and your heart clenched for her, Simon was merely a figment of her imagination.

“Well he's wrong because you are eating as much as you should” she let go of your hand and smiled as you said that to her. When you reached around his table you noticed that he hadn't even touched his food,

“Are you going to eat sir? Your half an hour is almost over” you asked him so he chuckled. New patients in the center had strict rules and regulations to follow during the beginning of their treatment.

“Who should I be asking around here for a smoke?” He asked you and your brows furrowed.

“That's not allowed, i will help you with a nicotine patch if you're feeling restless -” he rolled his eyes as you said that.

“I don't need that shit” he grumbled under his breath so you looked at the time. Looking at him you couldn't really tell what actually was wrong with him, well besides the anger issues obviously, he seemed almost normal, almost self aware which really wasn't usual around this place.

“Please finish your food, dinner service is around 8 and a man of your size won't get any nutrition from the snacks we offer during tea time” you spoke a bit sternly and the corner of his mouth curved into a small smile.

“What's your name y/n?” He asked you so you looked at him baffled, he clearly read your name on the badge and he said it as well.

“I don't know your name either” you mumbled politely so he gave you a smile

“Daemon”

“Have an easy day Mr. Daemon, first few days are always difficult” you ultimately grabbed his plate as you left because he didn't seem to be in any mood to eat at the time.

Around evening as you finished your shift you made your way to your room at the fourth floor to take a shower and relax a bit. You took out the note you had found under Tanya's bed and placed it inside your cupboard safely, a part of you continued to feel uneasy about this thing, another was thinking about Daemon.

Why was he there? What had he done? You were not allowed to enquire about these things unless or until you were told the information by the authorities.

Daemon couldn't really sleep at night, how could he? He was locked up in here and was being treated as if he was crazy but he knew what he was and he wasn't delusional about it either. Even as sleep came for him he had a horrible nightmare that had him tossing and turning in his bed again so he woke up and stepped out of his room quietly as the room was starting to suffocate him. That's when he found the window at the end of the corridor and that was all he needed.

Around 2 at night, you were enjoying a peaceful moment to yourself on the terrace of the building, taking a break with a cigarette. As you were absorbed in your own thoughts, you heard a loud thud sound from behind you. Startled, you jumped and quickly turned around, only to find the new patient, Daemon, standing there. You couldn't believe how he had gotten there, he didn't have the key to the door and you clearly remembered locking it when you had gotten in. The terrace was strictly off-limits to patients for obvious reasons.

“What..are you doing here, you can't be here mister” you almost sounded frantic and kind of scared to be honest. And why didn't he have a shirt on? It was freaking cold out here. And why was he so freaking ripped?

“Hooking me up with a bloody nicotine patch when you got this sweet thing right here?” he asked you as he approached you so you took a few steps behind you until you had hit the ledge. You quickly threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it under your flip flops before he could attempt to steal it from you.

“Now that's a waste of a good cigarette” he almost seemed offended with his brows furrowed and scowl on his face.

“Look, don't come near me alright?” You warned him so he crossed his arms and stepped closer to you despite your warning.

“I'm not going to harm you, I can, don't get me wrong.. but I won't”

Was that supposed to make you feel better?

“Please come with me, let me take you to your room .. please”

As he heard your gentle voice his teeth gritted together. “Please just listen to me ..it's only best for you” You brought your arm forward to grab his forearm but you flinched away as soon as you had touched his skin.

“Are you sick? You're burning like a furnace” You asked him worriedly so he scratched his scalp before he looked around and took a deep breath “And how did you get here?”

“I'm not sick, do I look sick to you?” He asked you so you shook your head but that was pointless, if he was a regular smoker, perhaps he was feeling the withdrawal.

“Just one puff, I'll be indebted to you forever darling, please, what do you want me to do beg? I can beg on my knees .You want that?..”

“Ohhh shut up for god's sake -” You cut him off mid sentence as he started to ramble but the stupid smirk on his face was still there. “I'll lose my job Daemon -”

“Nobody will know”

“I can't do it.. please understand please..”

He sighed and the pleading look on your face made him willing to listen to you ultimately.

How did he even come up here? You had come via the main entrance and it was locked from inside. As you escorted him back to his room, you mumbled a quick good night but he suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you against the door, your heart was right into your mouth at the moment for several different reasons, you had been pushed over by several women at the facility but never a man, especially not a man like him who seemed so strong and so unstable. If worse comes to worse you knew you wouldn't be able to defend yourself.

“Daemon let go of me” you mumbled sternly but his hands were on your upper arms, holding you tightly still. He wasn't hurting you, not yet at least.

“Shhhhh shhh shhhh” as he whispered in your ear you were going to scream but nothing came out of your throat, not even a squeak, you feared that he was going to touch you inappropriately, if this wasn't inappropriate as it was, but then he placed his nose on the crook of your neck and took a sniff. Like a wild animal he sniffed you, literally.

One sniff, two sniff, and then one two three at once, you couldn't help but wonder why you weren't feeling as uncomfortable as you should have in a similar situation.

“What are you doing?” You asked him gently to not aggregate him so he looked you right in the eyes before he cupped your cheeks and stared at your lips, his nose rubbed slightly against yours before he closed his eyes, grunted a little and finally stepped away from you. His chest was heaving from breathlessness, same as yours as you both stared at each other for a moment. What the hell was that?

“Get out lady”

He mumbled so you immediately got the fuck out of there, you were looking behind every step of the way to see if he was following you but he wasn't. At the end of the corridor you stopped as suddenly, your feet came in contact with a piece of fabric on the floor, and when you bent down to investigate, you realized it was Daemon's shirt but it was completely shredded in several pieces - the same shirt he had worn this evening.

The realization left you feeling even more puzzled and disoriented. How had he managed to enter the terrace when it was locked from the outside. It seemed impossible. It was impossible. Or perhaps there was another way? Or maybe you were going crazy yourself? Now that was possible.

As your head hit your pillow you ran your fingers over your neck, right where he was sniffing, he seemed so...so primal in that moment, so animalistic, if that was the right choice of word. Did you atleast smell good? God you hoped so. Or not. He was a patient, you had to keep that in mind, he had issues.

The next morning while Daemon was away for his therapy session with the doctors you decided to clean up his room, he had left you feeling a bit unnerved last night with his strange behavior but you weren't really scared of him and then you wondered why you weren't scared of him after what he had done.

The iron bars on his window were the first thing you had noticed as you had entered the room. As you heard loud footsteps approaching the room you quickly collected your stuff to prepare to leave.

As Dr. Vis entered with Daemon he looked at you and spoke politely “Will you please step out ?” Vis asked you so you nodded immediately.

“Yes doctor, I'm almost done” you grabbed your cart and walked past them, your eyes met with Daemon and he seemed angry, but also really sad? His eyes were read and teary, such a contrast from his snarky demeanor yesterday.

As the door slammed shut, you found yourself in a state of morbid curiosity. So instead of minding your own business as you should have, you pressed your ear against the door instead, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside. Why did he look so sad?

“You had promised you wouldn't start with the absurdity right off the bat” Dr. Vis yelled at Daemon and that bothered you. Why was he yelling at a patient like this on his second day?

“Absurdity? You think me speaking of my true self is absurd?” Daemon asked the doctor and you didn't understand what was happening, what was he suffering from?

Dazed and confused as you reached the staff area Shyla walked around the table with a smirk on her face so you finally gave in.

“What?”

As you asked her she slammed her hands on the table in a dramatic manner.

“I found out why the new guy is here”

You weren't the one to gossip but you really wanted to know why Daemon was there? Why was he here? What was hurting him?

“How did you find out?” You asked her to seem disinterested as you didn't want to make your interest apparent.

“I have my source girl” she patted herself on shoulders so you crossed your arms together.

“Uhuh and what did your source tell you?”

“Well you're not ready for this-"

“Just spill it already” you chuckled as you spoke but the way she was stalling had only gotten you more curious.

“He thinks..now listen to this..he thinks he's a dragon” she mumbled excitedly so you stared at her all perplexed.

“What?”

“The new guy believes that he's a human dragon hybrid or something like that.. unbelievable right?”

Oh well!! That was a big problem huh.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 15

Author's note: You don't want to miss this week's chapters 👀

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

It's been three months. Three months, twelve days and twenty hours (yes, I've counted them) since I slapped Declan's face and told him I didn't want to see him again. But today that is over, because the national team is coming back to Tottenham training centre, and I'll have to face him again.

The phase of feeling like there is a hole in my chest and crying with everything is over. But am I ready to see him and those stupid blue eyes of his, to hear his loud laugh, and to smell his perfume everywhere around me? I am not. At all. 

But oh, well.  

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“What do you mean he isn't coming?”

“He picked up some kind of injury on the last game. Not sure what, tho, I don't understand those things” Olga says. “But he apparently is going back to Arsenal so he can rest.”

“Thank God” I sigh.

“You look so relieved, Liv” she laughs.

“Well, how would you feel if you were about to see again the guy you fell in love with and who broke your heart, and had to put on a smile on your face and make him coffee as if nothing had happened because otherwise you could be losing your job?”

“I don't think they would fire you for not smiling at him.”

“Yeah, but for dropping a boiling coffee on his precious feet…”

“Oh my God, Liv” she gasps. “I know he was a dick and I hate him for what he did to you. But would you do something like that?”

“Maybe” I shrug.

“Olivia!” she gasps again.

“I was kidding, it was just a joke. Relax.”

Though maybe I wasn't 100% kidding. Because I think this is the new phase I'm in. Violence. Rage. Wanting to hurt him as badly as he hurt me.

“I hope so” Olga says, giving me a worried look. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Bloody hell” I curse when half the boxes of napkins I'm carrying end up on the floor.

“Let me help you” a voice says next to me.

“It's ok, don't… worry” I say, looking up at the owner of that voice and getting lost in the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. Declan. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Uh?”

“Weren't you injured?”

“Yes.”

“Then?”

“They want to run some tests before I leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, good. The sooner the better. And I can do this myself, I don't need your help.”

“Liv, please…”

“No” I say, snatching one of the boxes from his hand and starting to walk away. 

“Liv, c'mon. I just want to talk.”

“And I already told you I don't want to talk to you ever again. Besides being a liar, are you also deaf now?”

“Liv…”

“Stop saying my name, Declan. You are gonna wear it off.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, sure” I snort. 

“I am, Olivia. If you'll let me explain myself…”

“I said no, Declan. And now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do” I say, turning around and walking into the cafeteria, taking big breaths to calm myself and not kick something or start crying again. Or both.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“See you tomorrow, Liv” Olga says before getting into her car.

“Bye” I smile back. 

It's already dark outside, the car park full of puddles from the rain. And I'm so busy trying to not step on one of them while also looking for my keys inside my bag, that I don't see the person standing next to my Mini until he talks to me.

“Hello, Liv.”

“Holy mother of Jesus!” I scream, my bag falling from my hands and ending on a puddle. “What the fuck are you doing here, Declan?”

“I want to talk with you” he says, picking up my bag.

“Again? Didn't I make myself clear earlier?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But you are stupid, I know. And now look, my best bag is ruined because of you” I say, snatching it from his hands just as I did with the napkins. It is soaking wet.

“At least your phone wasn't inside” he shrugs.

“What a relief, uh?” I say, walking around him and opening the car's door, throwing my bag inside.

“Liv, it'll be just a minute. Please let me…”

“No, Declan! I don't want to hear your excuses! I'm done with you! Why can't you understand it?”

“Because I… Liv…”

“Because I… Liv…” I repeat, making fun of him. “Don't you have somewhere else to be? Like texting that singer or one of those other girls you are sleeping with to let them know you will be free tomorrow?”

“Liv…”

“For the love of God, stop saying my name!” I say, lifting my arm to slap him like I did at his house. But like happened the second time, he grabs it before I can touch him.

“I probably deserved that” he says, closing the space between us.

“You definitely did, yes.”

“I was a dick.”

“You are a dick” I correct him, trying to stay focused on being mad at him. But it isn't easy. The way he is looking at me is making my heart beat too fast, my knees are already feeling like jelly as he keeps moving closer, and my skin is burning where his fingers are touching me.

“Liv…” he whispers, his free hand moving to my face, caressing my cheek.

“Stop saying my name, Declan.”

“I can't.”

“You…” He is too close. So close that I can smell his perfume everywhere around me, surrounding me, making me get lost on him. Fuck. Shit. No. “Declan…” I whisper.

And then, what I didn't want to happen, happens. 

At first he just brushes his lips against mine, something delicate, barely noticeable. But it is enough to send a wave of electricity through my whole body, making me shudder in his arms. And when he properly kisses me, I'm gone. My arms move on their own, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to me. Which only makes his kisses more intense, more desperate. We are kissing as if our lives depended on it, as if we needed each other to breathe. And that doesn't stop when I open my car's back door and we both get inside. When clothes start leaving our bodies, the little space turning us into a tangle of limbs, pushing us against the other as close as it is humanly possible, gasps, moans and other unholy noises leaving our mouths. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Liv, this just came for you” Alex says, leaving a big package on the table where Olga and I are having lunch.

“Who is sending me something here?” I ask with a confused look.

“I don't know” he shrugs, sitting down next to us.

“Open it, Liv!” Olga says. 

“Ok” I say, doing as she's asked.

“Oh… my God. Did you buy yourself a designer bag?” she says when she sees the box.

“I didn't, no.”

“Then who sent this?”

“I… I don't know” I say, slowly opening it.

“Liv! That's the bag you've been wanting for ages! How many times have we gone to Harrods just to stare at it?” 

“Too many” I chuckle.

“Does it say who has sent it?” Alex asks.

“There is a note, yes” I say, taking it and reading it while Olga marvels at the bag.

“You once told me that you were in love with this bag, that you would go to Harrods with your friends and stare at it wishing it was yours. Well, guess what. Now it is. Hope it makes up for the one I ruined the other night. -DR ”

“And?” Alex asks again. “Who sent it?”

“Kennedy.”

“Madders’ wife got you a designer bag?”

“She says she got invited to do some free shopping, was able to choose whatever she wanted, remembered that I was feeling a bit down, and…” I shrug.

“They gifted her a designer bag?” Olga gasps, totally buying my lie.

“They gave her a budget and it was the same amount of money as the bag.”

“Wow. The life of a wag” she laughs. “I want friends like that too. This is so nice…”

“It is” I smile. 

“Olga, we need you” one of our coworkers says.

“Coming” she sighs. “Will you let me try it on later?”

“Of course.”

“Urgh, you are the best, Liv” she says, giving me a hug before leaving.

“Kennedy's last name is Rice now?” Alex says.

“Uh?”

“You may fool Olga, but not me. I know he sent you that bag. Are you back together? Did you forgive him?”

“No and no.”

“Then?”

“Then what, Alex?”

“Then why did he buy you that bag?”

“Because it is over. It is like a goodbye gift.”

“A goodbye gift?” he laughs.

“Yes. Now if you'll excuse me” I say, getting up and taking the bag and the package with me.

Even though Declan and I haven't talked again since what happened in my car, we both know what it meant: it was a goodbye. One that hurts and that neither of us wanted if we only think about what we were feeling that night, but that was the right thing to do.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What if we kissed in the Maize Maze?

Ok so I wanted to start posting my Soulmates AU for Raindrop month, but writing for my Medieval one is going waay better than planned and it's confusing me to have 2 separate backstories in my head at once, so while I still have *checks calendar* 5 DAYS, here's a little stand-alone ficlet!

What if we kissed in the Maize Maze? A Midwest Emo Ghouls AU ficlet

Rating: T Content: fluff, literally that's it just fluff Words: 615

Lots of love to @alwaysjustmina for organizing this month again this year, I love any excuse to write about our soggy boys!! 🌦️🖤

hello @revengeghoulette, here is your summons as promised!! 🫡

Read below, or on AO3!

Haymaking season was coming to an end, and Swiss, Mountain and all the ghouls who pitched in to help were looking forward to a well-deserved break. To celebrate the end of the season, Swiss had built a maze out of hay bales for the children and kits of the town, as well as some of the more enthusiastic adults.

The whole community had come together to put on a party at the ghouls' farm. Mountain and his colleagues from the hardware store had built fairground games, Dew had dragged the church's speakers down on a trailer and was playing records Mist had brought from her shop. Aurora's cafe had a small pop-up, and Cirrus had brought a vat of apple cider, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, for the younger guests. Cumulus was in her element, her little face-painting stall attracting such a sizeable queue that Sunshine had jumped in to help out. Phantom was taking his new role as Youth Pastor – and more recently Sunday School teacher – very seriously, replacing her in supervising a very intense game of tag. While Mountain minded the hay maze, Swiss was giving rides on the haycart he had hitched to the back of his tractor, driving the children and kits up and down the field in the warm afternoon sunshine.

After closing time, once the families had gone home, the ghouls had the place to themselves without getting in the way of the fun of the younger members of the community. Rain and Dew were the last ones left inside the maze. Aurora and Mist had quickly disappeared somewhere together, Sunny, Cirrus and Cumulus were deep into their mission of finishing off the cider now that their responsibilities were over, the three of them covered in rainbow paint and body glitter.

Dewdrop and Rain walked hand in hand through the maze, quietly drinking in each other’s company in the balmy evening air. Making it to the centre of the maze they sat down on a bale, surrounded by golden walls on all sides as the amber glow of sunset spread across the sky. Dew leaned his head on Rain’s shoulder, utterly content in the moment.

“It’s beautiful.” Rain commented, as they watched the play of colours around them. “Just like you.”

Dew turned his face to bury it in Rain’s neck, bashful.

“You are, and I’m so proud of you, taking over from Aeth like you did. You’re doing such a great job, love! Look at how the town and harvest are flourishing. I’m honoured to call you my husband.”

Never one to take compliments well, Dew redirected Rain’s affections by capturing his lips in a searing kiss. The pair lost themselves in each other, the cooling temperatures went unnoticed past the warmth of their bodies, the slight prickliness of the hay nothing compared to the soft slide of their lips.

By the time they came up for air, Dew having squirmed his way into Rain’s lap, the sky was glowing a deep russet colour. From outside the maze, they could hear the sounds of the others packing up to leave.

“Alright lovebirds, time to come out or I’ll send the dogs in!” they heard Swiss call. The pair only giggled, Rain placing feather-light kisses across Dew’s cheekbones while he blushed the colour of the sky.

“You don’t have a dog!” Dew hollered back as he struggled to hold in his giggles.

“Hi Dewy.” deadpanned Mountain.

Eventually, Dew and Rain managed to find their way out of the maze, neither wanting to be found and carried out by the giant earth ghoul.

“Nice straw hat, Rain.” smirked Swiss, “although normally you weave it into itself, not directly into your hair!”

[queer-crip-grows]

Right-to-buy council houses without specifically only releasing housing that already had a replacement built was of the most notable ways of the *many* that Thatcher et al screwed the UK.

I’d love to have a law put in place that landlords either have to sign contracts to provide housing under council house-type contracts with rent controls to people on housing benefit etc, or sell to the local council at compulsory purchase prices.

Same for all the houses not being lived in - use to house people under contractual controls, or have to sell to the council housing central fund.

Personally I’d start converting all the office units that are no longer needed because so many people are working remotely now into housing too.

Same for the huge city centre shops - I’m not sure if the pattern repeats elsewhere, but I live near Glasgow and the city centre has basically died since Covid. No one is renting the huge retail stores and the place is full of unhoused folk, which is a fucking scandal. So convert them into housing; let the buildings see use, and let those folks get off the streets. Pets and kids specifically allowed too - get families out of one-room shelters and into proper homes of their own.

I’ve heard that there would be issues putting in water infrastructure, but given the place is literally crumbling already and usage in so many areas is so low that having workers digging up the streets to install water lines wouldn’t cause enormous disruption, the time to do this is *now*. Build rainwater catchment and purification systems on roofs too - we get so much rain in the UK it’s kind of ridiculous not to use it! Some of that could go directly to drip irrigation in gardens, but plenty could go right into the houses/flats too. And of course this would provide tons of jobs in construction, architecture, planning etc etc.

Install gardens and green spaces around the place while you are doing this - offer some at low rent, or to buy cheaply, to market gardeners, but specifically put spaces in for communal gardens with the idea of offering allotments and encouraging people to grow their own food.

Put solar panels on every roof and integrate spaces for smaller wind turbines amongst the houses too. Huge storage batteries in basements to make the new blocks as low-footprint and self-sufficient as possible power-wise.

It would be a *fantastic* opportunity to create genuinely accessible housing - office buildings and shops already have lifts and wide corridors ideal for wheelchairs and other mobility devices, so keep that in the design when creating housing. There is a hidden epidemic of houselessness amongst disabled people and older folk with mobility needs, so create low-rent council housing that specifically fits those needs there.

It would regenerate the areas - all the smaller shopfronts not suitable for housing conversion would fill up with people offering the things people in residential neighbourhoods need, with a guaranteed payer base. People on low incomes *use* all of their incomes on necessities, so small businesses selling those necessities will do well. Offer small businesses low rents to provide those necessities. Any that don’t fill up, offer to charities and use for council staff offering the aid and advice people transitioning into housing actually *need*.

Carers are generally low-paid - so this would be an opportunity to offer them cheap housing close to a huge client base in the new accessible housing. No need for low-paid, mostly-female workers to dash constantly between clients in cars. They could walk to work and walk in between clients, who would also no longer be trapped in inaccessible homes, so people who are not actually bedbound would hopefully be less housebound.

Put rooms in the blocks for communal and co-op activities to reduce isolation - with the lifts and wide corridors, even people who are functionally housebound are likely to be able to make it to a room in their own building, and even quite young children could get to those places safely on their own if their parents are working. Wraparound childcare, paid and informal, near where folks actually live.

City centre areas that are now largely dead other than unhoused people, with limited and decreasing zero economic activity taking place and a decreasing incentive for businesses to set up there rather than in out-of-town retail parks people need to drive to, would become vibrant communities with every incentive for businesses to set up there, particularly for the small businesses that still employ the majority of people.

It wouldn’t take a lot to extend this model to transform those out-of-town business parks that are currently largely empty either; nothing says the businesses that are still there would need to move, and they would have a huge new pool of potential employees living within easily walkable distance, though there would need to be oversight to make sure places like Amazon didn’t attempt to buy them up and turn them into company housing. There would need to be a little more investment to provide green transport links like electric buses and trains so that it would be easier for small businesses to move in to provide services, but given the tax income that would result and the reduction in pollution the investment would probably pay itself back within a decade or so.

[flo55i]

michael goes with daniel to the hospital 1.5k of Daniel&Michael for the platonic friend fix

“I want you to go with them, Michael.”

It wasn’t a question; Christian was already pulling at Michael’s headset and taking it from his neck, pushing him towards the car idling at the edge of the garage. 

“But Blake can…there are others more suited, surely.” Michael had trailed off. 

The level of emotion outlined in Christian’s severe frown surprised him into giving up whatever he was going to come up with to get out of it. He looked at the concrete floor instead, at the rain still pooling along pit lane, like he was intruding on a private moment. Maybe then he would have been able to swallow the lump in his own throat. 

Daniel was fine, he reminded himself.   

“I want you to keep me informed. Help him keep it together, that sort of thing.” The hand on his shoulder, guiding him out of the back of the garage had felt like a noose instead. 

By the time they are in the back of a car together, the choked feeling has migrated to his chest as Michael can’t work out what is appropriate to say at a time like this. What will be the first thing he and Daniel have said to each other in probably months. 

“How are you feeling then?” Is the generic phrase that he goes with. The last thing he needs is Daniel yelling at him again, accusing him of being unfeeling.

Cold-hearted wanker is the word he actually thinks was used last time. 

“Like I probably should have hit the McLaren instead.” Daniel snorts, and although he’s got his head leaning back against the headrest, Michael knows him well enough to tell that he’s smiling. Even if it’s in sarcasm. 

“I mean, it all happened so fast. I doubt anyone would have blamed you if you did.” Michael tries to assure any lingering guilt. 

“I’ll keep that in time for next time I crash out then, shall I?” 

It’s biting and Michael doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. Eyes on the front, he concentrates on the two doctors who sit up in the driver’s and passenger seats of the SUV—one from the medical centre, the other from RedBull— who are arguing in German about the best way to leave the track. Cameras and fans crowd the vehicle making it hard to see anything out the windows and when Michael turns back, Daniel has his head tilted once more to the ceiling, eyes closed, conversation apparently over. 

He’s not asleep though. The broken arm is strapped carefully tight to his chest but his thigh is jiggling, teeth gritted, yet he still tries to breathe deep through them. It makes a little wheezing sound that has Michael pursing his lips. He wonders how much—if any— pain medication he’d been given so far. 

Not caring about offending Daniel’s delicate sensibilities, or how to approach the stalemate between them, Michael reaches for Daniel’s good wrist to check his pulse. The stupid idiot can rant and rave for all he cares, it’s his job to help.

(He needs to make sure Daniel’s ok.) 

The pulse is consistent enough, considering. Michael checks his pupils too— almost fully dilated, which means he’s running on adrenaline only. 

“Why didn’t you let them give you anything for the pain, you moron? Now is not the time to start playing the martyr.” Michael scolds. Whilst Daniel may have been too tired to protest his manhandling, Daniel bares the censure less gracefully. 

“This isn’t that kind of trip, mate.” And Michael knows the last word tacked on to the end is meant to be mocking. Hurtful. He tries not to let how much show on his face. 

“I know you don’t think I like, have any”, Daniel continues, apparently not done with settling the score, “But somebody’s gotta have at least some sort of control when they’re deciding the future of my career up there.” 

Tilting his head, he motions towards the two doctors out front, who haven’t spoken a word to Daniel about how he’s doing or what to expect since they barked at him to keep his arm above his heart as soon as the door was closed.

But instead of pity, the reminder of RedBull and their exacting levels of control over Daniel’s life has Michael angry. 

“What happened to, it’s nice to finally be with family? People who really care about me?” Michael throws back the words Daniel has been spouting to every tabloid ever since his return to the sport. 

It’s petty but Michael doesn’t care. It had felt like all their years of friendship being thrown back in his face. Still does. Serves the selfish fucker right to feel a bit of that back. 

But Daniel’s not playing that game with him anymore it seems. 

“Got me there!” He jokes. But his head is bowed, smile mocking somehow in its complacency. Michael thinks it might be regret. 

“You were always telling me I never did have the best instincts, right?”

It’s probably the most of an apology he’s ever going to get. And combined with the struggling, broken look Michael swore after last year he never wanted to see on Daniel’s face again, his first instinct is to fix. To make it better like he always has. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell him of Horner’s concerned frown as he’d pushed Michael into the awaiting car to be with him, to help him. But he can’t help but selfishly think of his own feelings still burning away inside of him. 

How Daniel ought to know what it felt like for him as his heart had leapt right out of his chest the second he’d hit the wall. What it felt like for him when Daniel cut him out of his life like that because he dared to offer a different perspective on his life decisions like any good friend would. 

Michael berates himself immediately and wonders when it became a competition between them. An us versus them kinda deal. Him or RedBull. 

Wonders if he was this much of an asshole all along. 

Daniel had asked, he’d answered. No. No, he did not think it a good idea to go back to RedBull. But Daniel had taken it with all the grace and comprehension of an elephant. Accused him of being non supportive when he was only trying to be anything but. Just like he’s trying— failing— to do at the moment. 

Sighing out loud, Michael lets the opportunity to say I told you so go. Lets it all go. Because it’s not about him. Or them. Then or now. 

“Look.” He starts. “They love you so fucking much I have no doubt that they’ve already lined up an IV full of stroopwafles for you. The best money can buy.” 

“Is that so?” Daniel says, practically preening under the attention of the admission. Michael just sees how fragile he looks.

Even when you take away the bandages, the sling, even the bags of exhaustion under his eyes, he knows that cocky bravado is just a front for all Daniel’s insecurities and the things he won’t say. How he’s hanging on Michael’s words to believe him. 

The car comes to a stop. They’re at the hospital now. Michael feels Daniel tense up beside him. He  scoots closer, as if to hide Daniel from the hoards of fans tapping at the glass. He knows they only mean well but they are still demanding time and attention from him now, phones at the ready and already pointing in their faces like weapons. 

Michael moves again to make sure their knees are touching. Smiles when it’s enough to still Daniel’s own. 

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah I do. This is your show, man.” 

“And what if I said I wanted to steal a wheelchair before they start thinking about cutting me open and harvesting me for parts to give to the junior program?” 

Michael looks to where the doctors are already out of the car, shaking hands with someone from the hospital emergency department to greet them in a white coat—obviously another doctor. Someone pretty important with the way three nurses follow in his wake. 

All for a broken arm, Michael scoffs. 

This level of scrutiny, of care, should hardly surprise him. RedBull have invested way too much money into Daniel and his body for them to give up the chance of losing it and the skills it’s cultivated now. He’s not gonna tell Daniel that though. 

From the tone Daniel had used— half-softening the blow from his own depleted expectations, half cautious— Michael is aware Daniel is checking if he’s as committed as he says he is. If he can be trusted with the truth of how scared about this all he actually is. 

Michael knows what to say this time. 

“Then I’ll get you a scalpel to fight back with. Whatever it takes.”  

And he means it. Especially later, as he’s standing back in the paddock, listening to Daniel’s order of events. He’s scowling at Marko for constantly interrupting to find out exactly when Daniel will be back to full function again. 

Daniel plays it up. The grin on his face and the erratic movement of his one, good arm says he’s thoroughly enjoying the way he’s keeping him in suspense. Helmut’s eyebrow seems to climb higher and higher the more Daniel ignores him, continuing his story about when they were plastering his arm. At how lost in translation the word mummy had got and the extra concussion tests they made him do because of it. 

To the side, amongst Daniel’s laughter, Christian slaps Michael on the back and says, “Everything turned out as well as it should then.” 

“Yeah.” Michael agrees softly, leaving it at that. 

Of course he could tell Christian about the way he had to bribe Daniel to get into the cat scan machine— just in case— giving him a running commentary on the topography of his brain like a David Attenborough video to keep him still and calm in the enclosed space. 

Or about the fact that Michael had to fill out all the forms presented to them because he apparently knows more about Daniel’s medical needs and history than he even did. Or their doctor. 

Or even how he ended up calling Daniel’s parents for him to tell them he was fine— not even a concussion, Grace. Not a screw any looser than what it was, I promise— because no one at RedBull apparently had yet. 

But he suspects Christian already knows all this. 

That’s why he sent him, after all. 

Knowing he needs to get back to the garage, to Yuki and his actual job, Michael gives Christian a single, appreciative nod. Giving respect where respect is due to the only other person he trusts here to do what’s best for Daniel and not just a driver for RedBull. 

Coming up behind them, he gives Daniel a conspiratory wink as he interrupts the conversation, “Just so you know, I do happen to own a scalpel.” 

Helmut looks confused. Michael doesn’t care. Simply enjoys the sound of Daniel’s laughter, the way he dares him to whip it out right there in front of their bosses. 

Daniel is fine. 

[douglas-rain]

Top Five Douglas Rain Recommendations From Yours Truly

You want to see more of Douglas Rain, but you're not sure where to start? Well, do I have the thing for you! As the internet's most preeminent Douglas Rain expert (except for Gerry Flahive I guess, but he's kind of slow at answering emails and more focused on other stuff these days. If he wants to reclaim the title, he can meet me in the parking lot <3), I've made you a handy little list of some of my personal favourite performances by DR that I think you should see and/or hear!

And by 'little' I mean 'I got way too into this, so it's pretty long now'. I put it under a cut; you're welcome.

In the interest of fairness, I've chosen one performance from each of his fields of work (namely: ON STAGE, RADIO WORK, DOCUMENTARY NARRATION, TELEVISION and FILM). Please know, however, that I can give reviews of basically everything in the masterpost, so if you're interested in hearing about any of them, feel free to shoot me an ask!

Without further ado, let's get into it...

-

ON STAGE: Henry V (1966)

Okay, this one's teeeechnically a TV movie, but it's adapted from Stratford's staged production, so I'm counting it. It's also a rare treat in that we get to see DR in colour! (Everybody say THANK YOU to David Rain, his son, for bullying the Festival into restoring this production and adding it to their online catalogue. I owe him my life.)

This is one of Shakespeare's histories, part of the Henriad (aka the collection of plays about the accomplishments of various English kings). Henry V, the main guy in this one, is actually the crowned version of Prince Hal from both parts of Henry IV, a role that DR had played previously at Stratford, so this is a fun bit of character continuity for him! The play centres around the king's invasion of France, with a lot of ruminating on hope and despair and duty and bravery. Harry - as he is affectionately referred to on occasion - is really going through it, and DR portrays him with such emotional intensity. He's proud, he's fierce, he's clever, he's a BITCH and I like him SO MUCH.

The book has been edited down slightly to fit into a two hour runtime for television, but beyond a few... very funny jumpcuts, it's not really noticeable at all. And while the sets are kept mostly simple, the costumes are gorgeous. I went in not expecting much (a mistake I keep making when approaching Shakespeare plays, for some reason lol), and was thoroughly entertained the whole way through!

It also contains the transcendentally funny line, "Tennis balls, my liege!" because Shakespeare was the most hysterical motherfucker on planet Earth. It makes sense in context, I promise.

Can be found on Stratfest@Home, the online streaming service of the Stratford Festival (there's a 7-day free trial period if you sign up). You may also check my masterpost of performances for a possible alternative, but shhh.

-

RADIO WORK: Fifth Business (1980)

I love this one; it's literally so fucking funny. This radio play is a dramatisation of the 1970 novel of the same name by Robertson Davies. Fifth Business recounts the life story of Dunstable "Dunstan" Ramsay, from his boyhood in an idyllic (on the surface only) Canadian village to his experiences in the First World War, his career as a teacher and all the loves and complications he runs into, and the formative experiences peppering his life where he's never quite the main character. He is instead 'fifth business' - neither hero nor villain, but still integral to resolving the play's plot. Ramsay is clever, sarcastic and a goddamn weirdo who's obsessed with saints for non-religious reasons. He dodged a snowball as a kid and the consequences of that haunt him throughout the entire book.

The radio drama features a whole cast of actors, including of course DR as the protagonist (who also narrates everything btw), doing an absolutely delightful job. Fellow Stratford actress Martha Henry, who also happened to be his wife at the time, is in it too!

The entire drama is delightful, honestly. I liveblogged my experience listening to it for the first time, and man there is some wild shit happening in this novel. The entire thing is about three and a half hours, but it really doesn't feel that long.

Can be found (in eight parts) on YouTube or on Archive.org. (Or in a junkbox on a sidewalk in Toronto. I'm still baffled by that.)

-

DOCUMENTARY NARRATION: Universe (1960)

A classic. Documentaries make up a sizeable chunk of the masterpost (thanks to the NFB website and archive channels on YouTube), so there were more options in this category than in any of the others. But I decided to go with this particular gem of a documentary.

It's about - who would have guessed - the universe, featuring the most advanced scientific knowledge of planets and stars at the time. The special effects are also quite impressive - if you move around Space Odyssey circles, you may have heard that the visuals of this documentary were a major inspiration for 2001. Also, DR's narration in Universe is what brought him to Stanley Kubrick's attention. You can probably guess how that ended. (Gerry Flahive has some articles about the whole thing if you don't.)

Anyway, Universe is a beautiful and meditative look at our galaxy and the many things it contains, and DR's narration is absolutely lovely. It clocks in at just under half an hour, so not that big of a time commitment either.

Can be found on YouTube or on the NFB website.

-

TELEVISION: William Lyon Mackenzie: A Friend To His Country (1961)

It's so hard to find old Canadian TV shows anywhere online and I'm forever bitter about it. Our options here are incredibly limited as a result, so you're just going to have to accept that I'm recommending you a historical short film from 1961, alright? This is as difficult for me as it is for you.

Unsurprisingly, this movie is about William Lyon Mackenzie, who was... *checks Wikipedia* "a Scottish Canadian-American journalist and politician." Yes, DR is doing a Scottish accent in this role. Yes, I adore it. I know very little about Canadian history, so I can't exactly speak to the film's accuracy, but I found it charming and DR is doing a very good job. Most of the half hour runtime is spent on Mackenzie's various political struggles (some sort of failed revolution, I gather, followed by exile in the United States and some jailtime) and him trying to protect his family. His wife is played by Canadian actress Kate Reid in this movie, which I personally find very funny for... reasons. IYKYK.

Can be found on YouTube or on the NFB website.

-

FILM: OEDIPUS REX (1957)

I'm sort of cheating again, but the only other options in this category that I have access to are the two Space Odyssey movies, and they seemed like too basic of a choice. So have some more drama instead! This is also a filmed version of one of Stratford's plays, but released in theatres this time.

Oedipus Rex is a breezy 87 minutes and adapts the English translation by Yeats of the classic Greek tragedy by Sophocles, with a little added prologue to set the scene. It was directed by Tyrone Guthrie, who you might remember as the Big Man from The Stratford Adventure. Or from the fact that he was a pretty famous theatre guy. If you need a refresher on your Greek myths: Oedipus was the guy who was prophesised to kill his father and marry his mother. He got done dirty by Freud somewhere down the line.

DR plays the role of the Messenger, a minor part who recounts some of the most famous plot points of the tragedy of Oedipus, which they couldn't show onscreen/onstage. Granted, he's only in this one for like five minutes, but he really rocks up to crash the party wearing the coolest outfit in the entire show. And yes, everyone in this production is wearing Greek theatre masks, so you can't see his face. You get to hear his voice though - and watch his captivating body language!

Can be found on YouTube. Or you can probably buy it on DVD if you really want to; idk, I'm not the boss of you. (I've also clipped his scene if you really, really don't want to watch the whole play. I get it's a big ask. Really beautiful production though, seriously!)

[waterlilylullabies]

𝓑𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓼: 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮

Nobody’s Child

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence against women.

The Waking World

The woman Belle called Mother taught her two things. The first: you can make almost any meal go further if you add some lentils. The second: you don’t belong to anyone.

Belle remembers; the gentle chafe of hardwood on her bare feet, the early morning cool of the cabin, the woman’s hands braiding her hair, cigarette smoke, heavy sighs. The woman left one day, didn’t come back. They arrested a man in the nearby village but Belle never found out what happened next. By then, the cabin in the woods and the woman called Mother were already fading like dreams in daylight and Belle was adopted by an elderly couple longing for a child of their own.

Mimi and Chester were gentle and sweet. Mimi, a former ballerina, taught her to dance, Chester taught her to douse for water. The trio lived in perfect harmony for fifteen years. Until the old couple passed away one autumn, Mimi went first and Chester followed. Quiet, uncomplicated deaths, like flowers after the first frost.

And Belle remembered that she didn’t belong to anyone.

She packed her bags and started moving. She marvelled at the distance she could put between herself and the past. She worked odd jobs, slept in parks, slept in grand hotel rooms, slept beside strangers. She realised she had a knack for languages and where that failed her she discovered a proclivity for flirting.

Years passed.

Even if the body is strong and the mind is quick, sooner or later the soul will dig its heels in and say; I want to rest, I want to sleep in the same bed, see the same faces. The soul begs for boredom even as it cries out for wonder. So Belle gave in, came to rest in a nothing place. She would spend the Winter there and then she would be gone.

It is perhaps unfair to call the town a ‘nothing’ place. Everywhere is somewhere after all, though Pleasance (that was the town’s name) subscribed to this notion only tentatively. That was partly why Belle decided to stay there, she believed that a spell in Pleasance would cure her eternally of the need to put down roots.

There was one feature of interest in Pleasance and that was the local dive bar, The Venus Lounge. The name was preposterous, given its general state of disrepair and the fact that it sat between a disused canning factory and a woman’s clothing store long since closed. It was a garish little place and the rumour among the great and the good of the town was that there was nothing the girls who worked there wouldn’t do for a price.

Belle took a job there faster than you can say ‘damnation’.

The Dreaming

Dream of the Endless is wracked with guilt. He summons his librarian.

The sky is slate grey, a thunderstorm seems imminent. Lucienne makes her way to the throne room as swiftly as she can.

The Dream King stands in the centre of the hall, gazing half heartedly at the constellations above when she arrives. He looks awful, weary, woe-begotten.

“My Lord? How can I?-“

The King of Nightmares has no time for pleasantries today. “Lucienne I have caused great suffering.”

Lucienne is momentarily torn between agreeing with him and asking which particular suffering he is referring to, but elects to keep her mouth shut.

“I made a promise” he intones “over two thousand years ago, to a Siren. I swore an oath of protection, which my imprisonment prevented me from keeping, now I fear the world will suffer for it.”

Lucienne lowers her head “Ah, I see.” Lucienne knows something of the story, a promise made in a cave, a child to be entrusted to the King of Dreams. That much she gleaned from a dog-eared scroll in the library. The rest she learned from the child’s mother.

Lord Morpheus has wandered to the foot of the steps leading to his throne, outside a gentle patter of rain has begun to fall. “My Lord, during your imprisonment a creature came to the dreaming, she had with her a baby girl” He whips around, eyes wild. Lucienne steadies herself under the weight of his gaze “The crea- the woman called herself Thalia and she came with the express purpose of delivering the child, her daughter to you, but” Lucienne braces herself for the inevitable storm

“But?”

She heaves in a breath “When she saw the realm, as it was then, abandoned, she felt her daughter would be no safer here than in the Waking World.”

There is a moment of perfect silence. Then the heavens open, thunder shakes the foundations of the palace and lightning slashes the sky to shreds. “My Lord” he is not listening, “My Lord!” Lucienne raises her voice over the rising storm “There is every possibility the child is still alive!”

There is a loud crack of thunder. “The Waking World deals cruelly with her kind” he retorts, but his eyes give him away, he is desperate enough to hope.

“Only if she has used her powers My Lord.”

Another thunder bolt illuminates the throne room. “But a child, Lucienne” he whispers. ”A child will not know better.” Lucienne, whose patience never falters, clears her throat “Not a child, my Lord, that is, she would be nearly twenty five by now.”

This had not occurred to the King of Dreams, who for all his power, has never truly understood the passage of time outside his realm.

“There is a chance my Lord, that she is alive and well. All is not lost.”

Authors note: Very new to this, any and all feedback welcome! Thank you for reading!

[legolasbadass]

Office Hours, Part 24

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague…

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 1.8k

Rating: T

Read on AO3

The next morning, the sun finally decides to visit Oxford. After weeks of rain and grey skies, the whole city comes alive again, and Richard and I decide to make the most of it by walking to the city centre and going out for breakfast. 

After our conversation in the kitchen last night, Richard and I made love, slowly and tenderly, and each kiss, each caress, was a reassurance of his love, healing all the cracks in my heart that had been left by past lovers. We moaned each other’s names as we came, and it felt like a promise. A promise that all the passion burning inside him was reserved for me and that our love would never waver. And as we walk hand in hand past the city’s most recognizable sites, I feel that he genuinely understands me now, and the peace and comfort that come with that are pure bliss. 

We step inside a small café facing the fenced gardens of the Oxford Union Society on St Michael’s Street. The bicycle parking rack in front of the café is overflowing, and inside, almost every table is taken by stressed-out students, their eyes glued to their laptops or heavy textbooks. Yet, despite the palpable buzz of approaching finals, the atmosphere in the café is warm and comforting. Wooden ceiling beams meet the poster-covered whitewashed walls under the bright light of the morning sun as the smell of roasted coffee beans and pastries fill the air. After ordering food and coffee, Richard and I find a spot crammed into a sunny corner by the large windows overlooking the street. Our oversized mugs clink against the dark mahogany of the table, which is so small our knees touch underneath as we sit. 

Richard tells me that he regularly frequented this café when he first moved to the city as he used to live only a few streets away, near Pembroke College. He reminisces over those years until our food arrives, and a companionable silence settles between us. Fried eggs, baked beans, and toast are a perfect treat after a long walk.

“Hm, it’s eggcellent,” Richard jokes, then immediately starts laughing as I chuckle and shake my head. He always laughs at his own—often terrible—puns, and I find that incredibly endearing. 

“You dork,” I reply playfully as I take another sip of coffee. 

“Hey, you always laugh at my jokes.” 

“Maybe I’m laughing at you?” I tease. 

His smile broadens. “Well, you’re still laughing. That’s what counts.” 

I smile back at him as he squeezes my thigh under the table. “Hey—any news about your potential project with Dr. Stanley Griffin?” I ask curiously. 

He hesitates before he says, “Er, no—not really.” 

I nod slowly; his tone is strange, as though he is trying to avoid the subject. Then, without another word, he reaches out to look at his phone. I frown—he has repeatedly been checking his phone since last night.  

“You keep checking your phone—what is it?” I ask, hoping I do not sound too much like an insecure, controlling girlfriend.

“I’m not checking my phone more than usual, love,” Richard says dismissively, which only makes me more suspicious. I suddenly have the strange feeling that he is hiding something from me—but why would he, when we share everything with each other? Still, it could be nothing. Perhaps he is simply waiting to hear back from some journal to which he submitted a paper, or he is expecting a response from some society or university concerning a conference. That must be it. 

But then why does he not simply tell me?

“I’m gonna get some more coffee. Do you want anything?” he asks, pulling me out of my spiralling thoughts. 

“Er, no I’m good. Thanks,” I reply with a smile. I watch him as he stands and leaves toward the counter, my eyes drifting to his solid thighs and the firmness of his bum in those dark jeans before drifting back to his handsome face just as he scratches his beard with one of his large hands. 

I know I have nothing to worry about with Richard. He is the most caring, thoughtful, and loyal partner I have ever had. But that only makes me even more curious—or worried—about what he could be keeping from me. Of course, I could insist he tell me, but it does not feel right to press him when he has always been so patient with me. 

“We seem to be running into each other a lot.” 

Of all the cafés in Oxford. 

Jason wears a beige trench coat, unbuttoned to reveal a burgundy cashmere sweater and the collar of a white button-up shirt underneath. He smirks at me before sliding into the empty seat in front of me. Richard’s seat. His knees come into contact with mine, and I immediately push my chair back. 

All I can think to say is a cliché, “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“Me neither!” he exclaims. “I’m glad—we didn’t really get a chance to talk yesterday, what with your boyfriend being there.”

I feel like one of those dumb horror movie heroines, convinced they have outrun the monster only to come face to face with it again. 

“What are you doing here, Jason?” I ask, glancing toward Richard, but he has his back to us. 

Jason chuckles. “I’m getting coffee?” 

“You know what I mean,” I retort with a sigh. “What are you doing in Oxford? And don’t tell me you’re here for the conference—we both know medieval literature isn’t your research area at all.” 

“Alright, look—I found out you were organizing this conference, and I thought….” He shrugs. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.” 

“There’s a reason for that.” 

He shakes his head. “Oh, come now, Lor—that was ages ago. And I said I was sorry—”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t change anything,” I bite back, failing to hide the ache in my voice as the memories and pain of years past clog my throat. “And you also blamed me for sleeping with her so you’re apology doesn’t mean much.”

Jason opens his mouth to retort, but before he can say anything, Richard returns, his face hiding none of the hatred he feels for Jason. “You’re in my seat.” 

Jason leans back in the chair and looks up at Richard defiantly. “Oh, sorry—I’ll get another chair.” 

“Sorry, mate, I guess I didn’t make myself clear,” he says as he places his coffee on the table, now towering over Jason. “Get away from her.” 

Heat crawls up my neck as I notice the people in the café glancing at us. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“You know very well what my problem is,” Richard retorts with raised eyebrows. “Maybe no one has ever taught you how to treat a woman, but I don’t think you need a degree to understand that cheating on your girlfriend makes you an arsehole.” 

Jason chuckles and shakes his head as he stands. “I made a mistake, alright? But that doesn’t erase all the good memories we shared before that.” He is looking at me now, his eyes filled with an odd mixture of anger and regret. 

“No, but it changes them,” I say quietly, all too aware of the curious eyes watching us. “I think you should just go—I have nothing to say to you.” 

“So you’re just going to be angry at me for the rest of your life?” 

I sigh, my heart tightening in my chest, but Richard steps in before I can speak. 

“Don’t you dare make her think her feelings aren’t valid. What you did to her is unforgivable,” Richard growls. “And she’s made herself perfectly clear. So get out.” 

I stare at my empty coffee mug to avoid Jason’s eyes—and Richard’s—as they both stare at me. My stomach is in knots. When Jason finally leaves, Richard takes back the seat before me and reaches out to squeeze my hand. 

“Lorelei?”

I lift my head to meet his gaze, and I find myself feeling both comforted and annoyed by the deep concern in his eyes. 

“Let’s just go,” I say as I run a hand through my hair. 

I do not wait for Richard before putting on my coat and stepping outside. The sun is higher in the sky, and thus the shadows in the narrow street are longer. A cyclist wooshes past me on the road holding onto the handle of his bicycle with only one hand while he holds a stack of books in the other; this is the kind of little moment that makes me fall in love with Oxford every day, and as I watch him disappear around the corner, I remind myself that the day is not ruined simply because Jason interrupted our breakfast. 

Richard announces his presence by pressing a hand onto my back, and when I turn around to face him, his eyes are clouded in worry.

“I didn’t need you to defend me like that. I’m not a damsel in distress,” I begin uncertainly, adjusting my tote bag over my shoulder.

“I know you’re not,” Richard hastens to say, a deep frown on his face. “I’m sorry, love—I didn’t mean to—” 

“Don’t apologize,” I interject, reaching out to wrap my arms around him. “I was just going to say that I don’t need you to defend me … but I still appreciate it. I don’t think I need to tell you that Jason wasn’t exactly chivalrous.” 

“Calling him an arsehole wasn’t chivalrous,” Richard replies as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, “it was simply stating the obvious.” 

“Well, either way, thank you,” I chuckle before standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. 

When we pull apart a few moments later, Richard keeps one arm wrapped tight around my waist. “So, do you want to go home?” 

I shake my head, though I appreciate his consideration. “I won’t let him ruin my day. It’s warm, the sun is out, and I’d like to spend some time just walking around the city with you.” 

Richard smiles. “Your wish is my command,” he says playfully. “Oh—I got you a surprise.” 

Raising a curious eyebrow, I take the small paper bag he hands me and peek inside. Then I gasp. “A blueberry danish pastry!” I exclaim in excitement. “You’re the best!” 

Without wasting a second, I raise the pastry to my mouth and take a big bite, marvelling at the flaky dough and the sweet blueberry filling. 

“Hey, I have a pun for you,” I say as I lick my lips. “What did Grendel have for breakfast?” I wait a few seconds, then smile and wave the pastry. “A Danish!”

Richard bursts out laughing and shakes his head. “Now who’s the dork?” I stick out my tongue at him. “I love you, nerd.” 

I smile as he pulls me into his arms. “I love you, too.” 

The sun feels brighter and warmer as we make our way toward Broad Street, and Jason is but a distant memory as Richard’s hand lovingly holds onto mine, never letting go.

Taglist: @lathalea​​​​  @linasofia​​​​ @mcchberry @fizzyxcustard​​​​ @bitter-sweet-farmgirl​​​​ @i-did-not-mean-to​​​​ @xxbyimm​​​​ @middleearthpixie​​​​ @enchantzz​​​​ @myselfandfantasy​​​​ @notlostgnome​​​​ @laurfilijames​​​​ @swoopswishsward​​​​ @quiall321​​​​ @dianakc​​

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my taglist, or tagged in future chapters! 💙

[inusdibyvdwyiwdkbhwv]

CAPTIVATED BY YOU

Chapter 1 ( It always starts with his stupidity )

Y/N's POV

WHY , WHY , WHY

Why did it happened to us , I would have been baking for him or may be we could have been in some thrift shop buying him or me some clothes , we could have been in TDL or at the very least at our home at Sendai .

WHY , WHY , WHY

Why did things turned out like this , just 2 weeks ago we were in our normal life , him being a stupid ediot goofing around in him occult club , me doing jobs and joining competitions to pay rent , hospital bills

WHY , WHY , WHY

Life wasn't easy , i am an optimistic ediot like him ,

I was a fool

For thinking that eventually life is going to better , that fate is going to show some mercy , that things are going to change but as I said I was a fool things changed for the worst . Our life was never good , it always had red flags in it , it was like we were in the southern India Ocean where tides were so strong that we could do nothing but struggle for merry survival , those tides eventually stopped but I never had thought that what I thought was a good start of a new life was actually the calmness before the storm .

We two were all alone after gramps was admitted in hospital but we had each other's back , I had him and he had me . We were happy even with nothing because we had each other . Our parents died in an accident when we were young I still have a vivid memory of my mother, a memory of my father my older brother sure resembled him . Him and gramos never made me feel that i didn't had a father or a mother . But both of them aren't here with me anymore .

WHY , WHY, WHY

In just 2 weeks our lives had changed this much but what happened today , I was not ready for it , if he didn't ate that stupid thousand year old finger we still would have been at home and he would still have been alive running and goofing around with me . But here am I standing infront of his dead body . The dead body of my older twin , my best friend , my only relative .

I always tried to convince myself that life would be better one day but here am I .

3rd person POV

Y/N ...... it was all fushiguro megumi could say it was hard for even him too process what had happened in the last hour , he had no clue to console the girl with pink streaks afterall his emotions were in control too . He opened his mouth once again but was cutted off by the girl's screams .

"Itadori Yuji you ediot you big big ediot why are you like that . How dare you break our promise and leave me alone , didn't you said that you are going to bake me a cake once in your life you said that you wanted to go and eat out in the world once we have enough money , you said that we are going to live in a good house someday you promised me , so why why why are you sleeping infront of me . Get up you ediot it's raining . I swear am not going to take care of you if you fall sick now get up you nit wit . Let's go back to the dorms . "

" Y/N he is--"

"Shut up Fushiguro kun and Yuji ni please get up you will fall sick . Please get up . Please, please, please."

Fushiguro megumi could do nothing much but he raised his head , he took a few steps towards the girl placing a hand on her shoulder trying to find his voice and words

" Y/N , I am sorry I really am sorry to say this but ...... He is ....... dead . He wouldn't want you to be like this I know you are in denial but it's the reality that he is dead . I know it's tough but please get yourself together . Am going to call the school . "

Megumi's POV

I went away to call gojo sensei to report what had happened.

Taking out my phone I dialled his number I knew it if I gave him the initiative to speak he would piss me off with his stupidity so , I came straight to the point as soon as he picked up

" We were on a mission at the detention centre , a special grade and ............ Itadori is dead . Please come here as soon as possible , Ichiji san had just took Nobara back to school as she was injured and Y/N is not stable. " I stated in one firm breath . Gojo sensei said that he would be here in 15 minutes

As soon as I hung up Y/N's voice caught my attention , she was looking at the dark sky then , she looked at me and said with her sad voice

" Did you know that he is 2 minutes older than me " stating it she unexpectedly smiled the last thing she could have done in this situation she looked away as if she was admiring the scenery of the sky before turning back to me and once again she opened her mouth and said " It always starts with his stupidity. "

Thud

Stating those two lines she fainted and laid beside her brother I ran towards her to check her pulse and injuries . She was cold , she had bruises and cuts .

Woosh

Feeling a strong gush and strong presence just behind me I saw the person I called for .

"Are you ok ? " Gojo sensei asked me. I hummed in response he then asked about Y/N . I told him that she just fainted as she was quite injured and overwhelmed by the events in the last hour. I picked her up from the floor while Gojo sensei picked up her brother .

We went back to jujutsu high, in the infirmary where it was finally calm for us .

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

1 JULY SATURDAY MORNING 2:40 AM 2023

Ok so am extremely sorry for posting 4 days late from the promised date . I was quite depressed (family issues). I was feeling low and that made me question myself and I thought that it's going to be ok like there is nobody there to read your stories but I forgot being true to myself and I realised it today as I saw one response on the synopsis of the story it gave me motivation and realisation of what I am and I promise that am going ti be true ti myself.

So hereby I promise to post on every Sunday a new chapter .

[theretirementstory]

Not long now until the BIG day…… I think I am starting to get excited 😜, now that really is a big surprise to me.

It’s been a busy week, it was the last two sessions of radiotherapy and I had my final consultation with the radiotherapy doctor. I said I was going to gradually re-introduce “forbidden” foods and did I……… well I had been dreaming of chicken fajitas and I had those on Wednesday so I guess not 😂.

The weather hasn’t been too good, lots of rain and mist with a smattering of sunshine thrown in. I never heard back from the roofer so I guess I will just have to be patient and wait for the dry weather to arrive when he will come and fix the problem.

I encountered a problem with my Orange TV Box, I was ready to watch the third episode of “Vera” on Sunday evening, however when it came on it didn’t switch to English language as usual. I rang Orange on Monday to try to get it sorted and at one point I thought we had solved it but no. The lady rang me back on Tuesday and we agreed there must be a problem with the box. I was told to take the box back to an Orange shop. Now we don’t have one in town and the nearest is 100 km round trip 🙄 anyway I went on Wednesday in the pouring rain. It’s years since I had been in the centre of Chaumont and I was surprised by the number of shops that were there. I got the new box and in the afternoon decided to set it up. Imagine my surprise when, set up, I had no sound or vision. I made a call again to Orange and after speaking to a man twice (without the problem being solved) I rang again and got a lady who did a lot of tests at her end and got it all sorted, even the problem with getting programmes in the original version. How pleased I am but very sad that I missed Vera in English.

Pauline and I decided to go to the cinema on Thursday night, to see Napoleon. The start time was 8:15 and it ran for 2.5 hours so I was going to have a really late night. We both enjoyed it very much and after picking up the flyer decided there was another film we would like to see. “La Tresse” (The Braid) so we are going on Monday evening, start time that night is 9pm!

I went to the cinema again on Friday evening (alone) the flyer said the movie was on at 18:30 and ran for 1h 27m so I would be home after 8pm. The film was in original version and looking at the actors I should have realised not in English, it was in Japanese 😂😂 with French subtitles. I stayed because the title was “Perfect Days” and the soundtrack included Perfect Day by Lou Reed with the talented Mick Ronson on piano, songs by The Animals (can you guess which song?) and Nina Simone to name but a few. I sang along (not loudly) but obviously loud enough that the lady two rows in front said to me at the end “English songs, for you to sing”. I wasn’t too concerned about being heard, there were only 4 of us watching the movie. Any thoughts of getting home just after 8pm were dashed as I checked my watch at 8:15 and the film was still in “full flow”. It was 9pm when I finally got home so it was straight to bed for me!

This week “The Ex-Graduate” has been unwell and couldn’t go into work for two days. It sounds as if she had ‘flu symptoms. On Friday she had an interview for a “real” job in her chosen profession. She messaged to say the interview was rotten, she was so nervous and didn’t know what she had rambled on about. Then later messaged to say she had been offered the job! Wow, good on you girl. I was so excited I couldn’t type my congratulations so rang her instead. How wonderful 🥳🥳.

“The Trainee Solicitor” has had another busy week and also a busy weekend. He is catching up with pals before Xmas, was at his work Christmas “do” last night and has usual weekend activities like good shopping to get sorted 😳.

The person formerly known as “The Daddy” now to be known as “The Photographer” due to his activities at Scarborough Athletic FC and also advertisements for clothes firms, restaurants etc. He also has had a busy weekend, my gorgeous grandchildren are with him and it was a Saturday off work so it meant he spent longer with the children. He went to his work Christmas “do” last night but reckoned on being home by 9pm (even with an hours drive). Blimey, not the work Christmas do I remember, where it involved all night, quite a few beverages and good food. Apparently the children are now being taken to the cinema to see a recorded panto. Funnily enough, I was looking at my legs this morning and remembering back to when I played the Prince in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs wearing my principle boy outfit, exposing a lot of leg, I think I have those shapely legs back again (my thoughts entirely) 😂😂.

Anie came to see me on Wednesday evening bearing Christmas gifts. She was thrilled with the Christmas cactus and when I handed over two other presents she exclaimed it was too much. How much is too much I ask myself, she has been an absolute wonder while I have been ill as have lots of other friends. She was leaving to stay with her son on Thursday, he would then take her to CDG airport for her flight on Friday. So she will be there now, with her family and granddaughter, Blanche.

Monique didn’t get to see me this week either as she had to go to physio for her sciatica. She is going to come down on Monday afternoon, I just hope her plant is ok and will last through Christmas and New Year.

I have just had a message from a lady who attended the knitting group before Covid. She has extended an open invitation to me, to visit her at home. How very kind. I guess I will be stuffing dates, making mince pies and peppermint creams to take with me.

I can’t see there being much knitting done between now and Christmas Day.

I took a watch to the jewellers in town yesterday for a new battery. While I was there I spotted a rather beautiful ruby necklace. Now my grandmother’s engagement ring has a beautiful red stone in and I am going to take the ring to see how close the colour is to the stone on the necklace and I may well buy the necklace. It has been made by the jeweller so I reckon it will be a “one off”. Of course I will have to try the necklace to make sure it has a long enough chain etc but with all the weight I have lost this year I think my neck size has reduced too.

Now to the music part of the blog, I thought a quick look at the Christmas number 1’s in the UK might be a good place to look but goodness me, I couldn’t really pick a good one out of them. So instead let me pick two songs from an artist who’s music I have loved since the sixties. The first is from 1970 and the second from 1976 the songs are by Diana Ross and the first is “Reach out and Touch” and the second is “Love Hangover” as I have said previously it’s not just the lyrics but the music that appeals to me on a lot of my choice of records.

The photos this week were taken in Chaumont (in the pouring rain).

[malarkay]

Inside the Wire Chapter 12

During their final battle with the Storm Hawks, Cyclonis is stopped just short of destroying the Dark Ace. Victory, however, eludes them. With Cyclonia fallen, and escape to the Farside cut off, they're forced to confront the consequences of their actions.

In the three days since he arrived at Zartacla, Swift had found roughly half a dozen other problems he wanted to be resolved before he returned to Atmosia, most of them centred around the treatment of the prisoners in Section A.  Apparently, Moss believed that higher security prisoners deserved harsher living conditions, a belief that he didn’t subscribe to.  

They were kept on a lower-calorie diet than the others.  Their regular intake was on par with the punishment rations doled out to misbehaving prisoners in Sections B and C, and their punishment rations were at the starvation level.  It was unsustainable in the long run and went a long way to explaining why they had been hit the hardest by the flu that had besieged the prison.  Malnutrition would do that.  It was a wonder that any of them had managed to stay healthy.  

The unit also wasn’t heated properly.  That was going to change.  Based on average recorded temperatures and humidity levels on Zartacla, they’d be required to ensure that the thermostat readings inside the prison never dipped lower than 18 or higher than 30 degrees.  Prisoners would also be issued weather-appropriate clothing.  How Moss thought it was acceptable to toss them out into the yard every day without a jacket in the dead of winter, rain or shine, was beyond him.

Moss himself had been uncharacteristically quiet since their encounter in the Courtyard and, despite the air of resentment that tinged their interactions, was complying with the changes he was making.  Or so it seemed.  He made a mental note to implement regular surprise inspections for the foreseeable future.  He didn’t expect any positive changes to stick on their own.  There would need to be accountability.

“I just don’t know how you expect me to maintain discipline when you’ve tied my hands so tight,” Moss complained on the third day, his old self finally starting the resurface.

“Productively.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sections B and C have training regimens and work details.  Section A has nothing.  Of course you’re running into behavioural issues.  They’re bored.  Put them to work.”

“The only work details that could use more men are outside the walls.  I can’t send them out there.  They’re security threats.”

“Figure something out.  Create work for them.  Also, this place is a recreational wasteland.“

“It’s a prison. They ain’t here to be entertained.”

“No, but it’ll make your job easier if they are.  Liven up the yards a little.  Maybe build a library.  If you’re having problems with Cyclonis, that’s an easy solution.  The kid’s a voracious reader.  I’m sure she’s not the only one here who is.”

Moss scoffed at his suggestions. 

“I’m trying to help.”

“Yep,” Moss answered dismissively.  “Any idea when I’ll be seeing the back of you?”

“I should be out of your hair in another day or two.”  He just needed to make sure the necessary changes were being implemented first.

~*~*~

“How’s she doing?” Swift asked Tross, the medic on duty.  

“Fever finally broke.  Her appetite’s improving, and she’s coherent.”

“She can speak for herself,” Cyclonis said irritably from her bed nearby, and he smirked.

“And ill-tempered,” Tross added.

He nodded.  “All positive signs.”  He walked over to her bed.  She tried to sit up as he approached, but he shook his head, discouraging the move.  “Save your energy,” he said, leaning on one of the side rails.  He looked down at her silently until she started to look uncomfortable, and then he spoke.  “Out of curiosity, do you remember the last piece of advice I gave you?”

The way her mouth thinned told him that she did.  “Let’s hear it,” he prompted.

“Stay out of trouble,” she said grudgingly.

“How’s that going?”

“I’ve been trying,” she said.

“Escaping is your way of staying out of trouble, is it?”

“Before then, I was trying,” she grumbled, trying to cross her arms, but she was stopped short by the handcuffs that secured one of her wrists to the railing.  She gave it a few violent yanks out of sheer frustration until he closed his hand around her forearm, holding it down.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he admonished her.  

She didn’t try to fight him, and after a moment, he let her go.  “I have been trying,” she repeated.  “But Mr. Moss has had it out for me since day one.  It’s like I can’t do anything right.”

She sounded so bitter that he believed her, and he was unsurprised that Moss would target her.  He was the kind of man who, if he had ever felt slighted or disrespected by someone, would repay the favour with interest.  And he had little doubt that Cyclonis, either intentionally or unintentionally, had at some point made the man feel small.

“So you decided to give him a reason to have it out for you?  You racked up four Level 1, eight Level 2 and two Level 3 infractions in one night.”

“That sounds serious.  You don’t think that will impact my chances of someday getting out of here, do you?” she deadpanned.

She made him thankful that he had a good poker face sometimes.  This was why he hated the kind of sentencing that the tribunal had handed down to her.  When people knew without a doubt that they would die in prison, there wasn’t much incentive to respect the rules.

“It does push back your eligibility for parole by nearly fifteen years,” he answered as if her snide comment had been made in earnest.

She scoffed, as he knew she would.  “It pushes back Ace’s eligibility for parole by nearly fifteen years, too,” he added pointedly, and she looked away from him, jaw clenching.  

“So?” she said.  “They were never going to grant him parole, anyway.”

“Are you sure about that?”

A silence fell between them.  

“I worry,” he confessed to break the silence.  “I can’t help you here like I could on Atmosia.  And you’re not helping yourself, making an enemy of Mr. Moss.”

“I’m fine,” she claimed, a little too vehemently.  “And I don’t need your help.”

“You didn’t look fine when I found you in that cramped cell.”

More silence.

“I don’t know if you remember, but you called me ‘Dad’.”

He grinned as she turned red.  “That never happened!”

“Deny it all you like; there are some things you can never take back,” he teased her.  She groaned in frustration, covering her eyes with her free hand, and his grin softened into a smile.  “Speaking of your father….”  He took a short stack of photos out of his pocket and rapped them against her hand.  She uncovered her eyes, taking the pictures when he offered them.  “Medics found those in your pocket.  I held onto them for you while you were out of it.”  Had they been handed over to Moss, he didn’t think she’d ever see them again.

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem.  You want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Whatever was on your mind in isolation.  You seemed upset.  Something to do with him?”

“No,” she said, not elaborating any further.

He knew she was lying, but he also knew pushing the issue would get him nowhere, so he moved on.  “I have to return to Atmosia soon, but you’re welcome to keep in touch with me via letter.  If you continue to feel unfairly singled out by Mr. Moss, I want to hear about it.”

“No letter with anything bad to say about Mr. Moss is making it off this terra.”

“Not if you go through the proper channels.  But I know that you get regular visitors who know where to find me and who probably won’t read your letters if you politely ask them not to.”

“You want me to use the Storm Hawks to smuggle contraband letters out of prison?”

“Now you’re concerned about rule-breaking?”

“I’m just surprised you’re encouraging it.”

“Just this once.  I recommend you follow every other rule to the letter.  I don’t want to have to come all the way out here again because you can’t follow my advice.”

“How did Atmosia even hear about what happened?  I doubt Mr. Moss bragged about it to the Council.”

“The Storm Hawks ferreted it out.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead.  “So they know everything?” she asked tightly.  

“Everything.”

“Great.  Can’t wait to have that conversation.”

“Be glad that they figured it out.  You’d still be sick and starving in isolation if they hadn’t.  Not to mention that abomination Mr. Moss had hidden away behind his office would still be standing.”

Her hand stilled, and she opened her eyes.  “It’s gone?”

“It’s gone,” he confirmed.  “Thanks to them.  So I think you can survive one embarrassing conversation with them when you see them again.”

“I’d rather not,” she said, coming dangerously close to sounding whiny.

He grinned.  He hadn’t completely forgotten what it was like to be her age, how much more important the opinions of his peers had seemed compared to those of the adults in his life.  He understood her humiliation over them knowing about her failure and the punishment that followed, and he could use it.  “Good.  Hold onto what you’re feeling now and remember it whenever you think about doing something stupid.  Ask yourself, ‘Will doing this give the Storm Hawks ammunition they can use to mock me with?’  And then assume that the answer is yes.”

“You’re not funny.”

That just made him grin wider.  He knew she had an unhealthy habit of dwelling on things when she wasn’t kept busy, and while he’d usually try to discourage that tendency, it might do her some good in this case.  The Storm Hawks were good kids.  When they heard about what happened in the Courtyard, they were horrified.  However she was picturing the conversation with them going was almost certainly worse than the reality.  But he kept that opinion to himself.  Let her sweat over it for the next few days.  Maybe it would make her think twice the next time she thought about escaping.

“My son keeps telling me the same thing, but I think you’re both wrong.  Anyway, I have more work to do.  And you should get some more sleep; you still look like death warmed over.  I’ll check back in before I leave to say goodbye.”

~*~*~

“You’re getting sent back to your cell today,” Alba told her two days later.  “You should still take it easy until we’ve fully cleared you, though.  Rest.  Stay hydrated.  No going out in the cold.”

She didn’t argue with those instructions.  She still felt tired all the time.  And weak.  She had been allowed to shower the night before, and even that had felt like a challenge.

“But before you return to your cell, you’re scheduled for a visit with the Storm Hawks.”

She stifled a groan.  No.  Why?  She wasn’t ready to face them yet.

Piper was probably dying to give her another one of her patented talking-to.  And Aerrow doubtlessly had some cutting remarks to throw her way, too.  As humiliating as this meeting was sure to be, she figured she could handle whatever taunts and lectures they had planned.  Her mind had helpfully supplied her with all sorts of possibilities while she tried, and failed, to take Captain Swift’s advice to sleep.  And while she wasn’t looking forward to any of it, it was better than the alternative: pity.  If she saw even a shred of sympathy from either of them, she would lose it.  

Is that why they had gone to the Council?  Why Captain Swift was sent here and the Courtyard dismantled?  Did they feel sorry for her?  She realized she was grinding her teeth at the thought and forced herself to relax.  

She was Master Cyclonis.  She had been, at least.  And there were certain feelings a Master of Cyclonia, even former ones, should invoke in others.  Awe and loyalty.  Fear and hatred.  But no one should ever feel sorry for one.  That implied weakness, and that would not do.  Her grandmother had taught her that.  Bile rose in her throat at the thought of her, but she swallowed it back down.  She has been feverish and confused.  Those nightmares she had had while in isolation were just that, nightmares.  Not memories. 

She sighed.  She was just so tired.  She didn’t want to deal with the Storm Hawks today, no matter what kind of mood they were in.  Maybe if she were standoffish enough, they’d take the hint and keep their thoughts and feelings to themselves.

And maybe then hell would freeze over.  Fingers crossed.

~*~*~

She and Aerrow had been sitting in the visiting room alone for ten minutes.  They had requested to see the Dark Ace along with Cyclonis today, but so far, neither of them had materialized.  

A minute later, a guard appeared.  He was also alone. “No Dark Ace,” he told them.

“What do you mean no Dark Ace?” Aerrow asked, sounding more tired than surprised. 

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

“Can’t you force him to come?”  No matter how much confirmation Aerrow got that the Dark Ace was still safely imprisoned, he still wanted to see it with his own eyes.

“Not really.”

Aerrow crossed his arms.  “Okay.  Any idea how much longer we’ll be waiting on Cyclonis?”

“Should just be a few more minutes.  It takes some time to get discharged from the infirmary.”

True to the guard’s prediction, it was only a couple more minutes before Cyclonis was brought in.  Sitting, she rested her outstretched arms on the table.  She didn’t look directly at either of them, instead focusing her gaze somewhere behind them.  “Let’s just get this over with.”

She didn’t look well.  Between suffering the fallout from the escape attempt and not yet being fully recovered from her illness, Piper wasn’t surprised.  She also wasn’t surprised that Cyclonis wanted to get right down to business.  But a lot had happened since their last meeting, and she wouldn’t pretend it hadn’t.

“So-“ she began and was immediately cut off.

“I don’t want to talk.  Just inspect the cuffs and go.”

“Cyclonis-“

“I said I don’t want to talk,” she snapped, her expression hardening, though she was still looking beyond her instead of at her.

“Hey, how about you pout over still being here on your own time?” 

The look Cyclonis gave Aerrow could freeze a Blizzarian.  He did an excellent job of appearing unbothered by it.  “I’m not pouting.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking,” she said.  “But I promise that we didn’t come here today to judge you, lecture you, or tease you about anything that’s happened.  So will you relax?”

Cyclonis sighed but finally looked at her.  So she had expected them to light into her.  Well, given their history, that fear wasn’t unfounded.  

Maybe if she was nice, she could make her feel bad about her uncharitable assumptions.

“How are you?” 

She was wrong because Cyclonis got all defensive again.  “I don’t need your pity,” she said harshly. 

“I’m not offering it,” she snapped back.  She wouldn’t spend the entire visit tiptoeing around the other girl like she was in the middle of a minefield.  If it were a confrontation she had come here expecting, she’d happily give her one.  Then hopefully, they could move on without all this awkwardness.  “You think I feel sorry for you?  Ha!  I reserve those feelings for victims of circumstances outside their control, not troublemakers who cause all their own problems.  What did you think would happen when you tried to escape the inescapable prison, genius?”

She hoped she sounded convincingly scornful.  Judging by the insulted look on Cyclonis’ face and the shocked amusement on Aerrow’s, she had.  

“Are you done?” Cyclonis asked.

“No, that wasn’t a rhetorical question,” she said, twisting the knife a little.  “Answer it.”

“I-” Cyclonis began, caught off guard by the command.  Her surprise didn’t last long, though, and a scowl quickly replaced her uncertainty.  “Just shut up and check the cuffs,” she demanded.

“I’m not doing anything until you answer my question.  We can sit here all day.”

“I thought we’d succeed,” she said through her teeth.  “It was a sound plan.”

“Obviously, it wasn’t.  Stop trying to weasel your way out of paying for your crimes.  Every time you’ve tried, you’ve made things worse for yourself.”

“Now are you done?” Cyclonis asked, trying to sound huffy but just sounding tired.

“Yes.”

“What about you?” Cyclonis asked, shifting her gaze to Aerrow.  “Anything to add?”

“Nope, that about covers it,” he said, just cheerfully enough to annoy Cyclonis, judging by her frown.

Piper took one of Cyclonis’ hands and began inspecting the cuff.  “How’s Dark Ace?” she asked, figuring it would give Cyclonis an oblique way to open up about what had happened to them.

“I don’t know; we haven’t seen each other since that night.  Why don’t you ask him?”

“We wanted to, but he declined to meet with us.”

“That’s an option?”

“For him, yes,” Aerrow said.  “For you, no.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, this isn’t exactly the highlight of our week, either,” Aerrow agreed, drawing a fleeting smirk out of Cyclonis.

“So, how good a job did the foil do?” she asked as she continued scrutinizing the first cuff.  Cyclonis had had a lot of time in isolation to tamper with them, and she didn’t want to overlook anything.  “It couldn’t have been easy getting full coverage around the cuffs.  Or keeping it in place.”

Cyclonis’ smile was less fleeting this time.  “I did run into some integrity issues with the shields, but they exceeded my expectations.  Going in, I just wanted them to work well enough to stop the Leechers from interacting with the heliblade.  But they were so effective that I was able to handle some crystals.  To a limited extent, anyway.  I didn’t want to push my luck.”

“So what happened?  What went wrong?”  She’d wondered how Cyclonis’ plan had fallen apart since learning about the escape attempt.  She, more than anyone, knew how difficult it was to beat Cyclonis in a fight when crystals were involved.  And yet Mr. Moss had pulled it off?  

Cyclonis’ smile faded, and she looked embarrassed.  “I, uh, did some math wrong.”

“Math?”

“Yeah.  I miscalculated the amount of energy I needed to overload an engine crystal.  They were of higher quality than I realized in the heat of the moment, and I went a little too far.  It was supposed to blow up in Mr. Moss’ face and take him out, but it exploded too soon.  I got caught in the blast, and things went downhill from there.”

So she had been right.  It had been sheer dumb luck that prevented Cyclonis and the Dark Ace from escaping that night.  Cyclonis didn’t often make such rudimentary mistakes.  A knot formed in the pit of Piper’s stomach at the thought of how close they had come to succeeding.  

“What would you have done if you had escaped?”

Cyclonis regarded her with a look that reminded her of how dangerous she was.  “I don’t have a lot of options, do I?”

“There are always options.”

~*~*~

Cyclonis’ cell was a mess.  It had been tossed while she was gone, and all her things had been strewn about and left to wrinkle on the ground.  She did a quick inventory and discovered that the leftover scraps of foil she hadn’t used and her extra blanket were missing.  The page that Piper had torn out of her notebook was also missing.  She figured it must have been confiscated and thrown out rather than handed over to Piper, or else she would have mentioned it.  That was too bad.  She had laid some strong groundwork for that project. 

Surprisingly, her radio was still where she had left it.  She had expected to lose that privilege and was pleasantly surprised she hadn’t.  

She turned on the radio and nearly jumped out of her skin when the aggressive, bass-heavy music Snipe favoured blared out of the speaker at maximum volume.  She turned it down and stormed over to his cell, stopping in the doorway.  “Snipe!  Stay out of my room and keep your hands off my things,” she ordered.

“You’re back!  Ace told us you were really sick.  Ravess thought you were gonna die.”

“I never said she was going to die,” Ravess called over from her cell next door.  “I said I hoped she would.”

She rubbed her temples.  She’d been back in the cellblock for two minutes, and she was already getting a headache.

“Snipe, did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, yeah, keep my hands off your stuff.  I don’t see what the big deal is.  You weren’t using it, and I was sick of listening to Ravess’ dumb violin.”

“Where did Ravess get a violin?”

“The Storm Hawks.”

She closed her eyes briefly and sighed, at a loss for words.  Turning around to return to her cell, she stopped short when Snipe spoke again.  “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

She turned back to him, probably looking as confused as she felt.  “Why?”

He shrugged.  “I dunno, it’d be weird if you did.”

Shaking her head, she returned to her cell and began cleaning up.  A moment later, she felt someone watching her.  She turned toward the door to find Ace standing there and froze.  What was she supposed to say to him?  How was she supposed to apologize for colossally screwing up their escape attempt?  An attempt that should have gone off without a hitch but instead had ended so horribly.  

They stared at each other for a moment, then he stepped into her cell and picked up one of her jumpsuits, folding it before placing it neatly into her locker.  She relaxed.  Fiddling with the radio, she tuned it to one of those classic rock stations he liked, and together they got her cell back in order.  

Once done, she plopped down onto her cot.  Ace pushed her legs out of the way so he could sit.  Lacing his fingers behind his head, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, listening to the radio.  

She waited until the station cut to advertisements before speaking.  “Ace-” she began, but he cut her off.

“Third time’s the charm.”

“What?”

He opened his eyes to look at her.  “We’ll make it out next time.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, even though she wasn’t sure there’d be a next time.  Worse, she could see that same uncertainty reflected in his eyes.  They’d blown the best opportunity to escape that they would ever be given, and they both knew it.

~*~*~

The following week passed uneventfully.  Mr. Moss only made rounds through their cell block once the entire time.  His hand was in a cast, and he glared at her when she asked about it, claiming that he had injured it while working on Bessy.  She could tell he was lying but decided it was in her best interests not to press him.

There had been some noticeable improvements made that she figured they had Captain Swift to thank for.  It wasn’t so miserably cold at night, for one.  And while the food wasn’t any better, there was more of it.  She didn’t get hungry again an hour or two after meals anymore.  Even Snipe complained less frequently than before, though he hadn’t given it up entirely.

Unfortunately, ‘uneventful’ gave her more time to dwell on her fever dreams.  The more she tried to push them out of her mind, the more they popped into her head unbidden.  She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that they were real memories.  

There was a simple way to test that theory.  She could find that book her father had mentioned.  If it existed, if an ancestor had written it, and if it was about what he had said it was about, that would certainly lend credence to the idea that those dreams had been real memories.  Not incontestable proof, of course, but it would be compelling nonetheless.

But did she want to know?  What good would it do?  It would just poison the feelings she has for her grandmother.  She had raised her.  She had taught her everything she knew.  She loved her.  Why was she even considering this?  Better not to think about it.

She lost a lot of sleep that week not thinking about it.

~*~*~

Monday morning brought an unwelcome change to their routine.  After breakfast, instead of being led back to their cellblock, they were brought down to the main yard.  On the far side of the yard, a cyclone fence had been raised, forming a separate enclosure bordered on three sides by the existing walls.  Along one wall sat a giant pile of sand, a stack of empty sandbags, and two shovels.  

Mr. Moss was waiting for them, Hamish at his side.  He looked pleased with himself, which didn’t bode well.  “It’s been brought to my attention that idle hands do nothin’ but stir up trouble,” he said without preamble.  “So I’ve decided y’all need something to do with your time here.  That’s why from now on, you’ll be out here Monday through Friday, moving that there pile of sand.  You’re gon’ fill these sandbags, haul ‘em to the other side of the yard, and build a wall three meters long by two meters high.  When you’re finished, one of the guards will measure it to make sure it meets those specifications.  Once it does, you’re done for the day.  I reckon it should keep y’all busy for about eight to ten hours.  Longer if you dilly-dally.  If you think sundown will bring an early end to your day, you’re mistaken.  The guards up there,” Mr. Moss said, pointing to the watchtowers to either side of them, “will be keeping an eye on you.  If you’re still working when it gets dark, they’ll provide you with light so you can see what you’re doing.   Then tomorrow, you’ll empty the bags and start all over.”

“I think there’s been some mistake.  I understand how these two have earned this assignment,” Ravess protested as she gestured to her and Ace.  “But Snipe and I have done nothing to deserve this.”

“There’s been no mistake.  All y’all have been nothing but trouble.  An honest day’s work may be just what you need to keep you from getting into any more.  Hamish!  Give ‘em their work gloves.”  Hamish dutifully handed them each a pair of leather gloves.  “You best get to it,” Mr. Moss suggested. 

They paired off.  “This should take roughly four hundred bags to complete,” Ace calculated.  “To keep things fair, each team should fill and move two hundred.  Snipe and I will fill our share of the bags first while you two build the base of the wall,” he said, nodding to her and Ravess. 

“Or you and Cyclonis can build the wall on your own since you’re the reason we’re all being punished,” Ravess suggested.  “That would be fair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ace said.  “Do you want to be out here ‘til midnight?”

“I don’t see why not,” Ravess shot back.  “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Did I forget to mention the most important part?” Mr. Moss spoke up from where he was still watching them.  “If you don’t work, you don’t eat.  So maybe you should try Ace’s plan.  Anyway, we’ll leave you to it,” he told them as he and Hamish left, closing and locking the gate behind them.

Ravess glared at her and Ace.  “Let’s just get this over with.”

They went with Ace’s plan.  She held the bag open as Ace shovelled sand into it.  Once filled, she hauled the bag to the other side of the yard and added it to their wall.  It was dirty, tiring work.  The bags were heavier than she thought they’d be, and with her just having been cleared by medical the day before, she was only a little embarrassed to find herself struggling with the task as the morning wore on.  Ravess was doing better, but Ravess hadn’t spent the last three weeks being sick, she justified.  

Guards offered them regular water breaks, and once they were halfway done with their task, sack lunches were brought out to them.  They were given as much time as they wanted for their lunch break, but they didn’t take advantage.  None of them were eager to draw this out any longer than they had to.  

They traded places after lunch and, as it turned out, filling the sandbags wasn’t any easier than carrying them.  Snipe was the only one whose mood seemed to improve after lunch.  He’d wait until Ravess had filled five bags before hoisting them up and carrying them to the other side, going on about how this was going to help him get back all his lost gains.  He even challenged Ace to race him a few times.  When Ace didn’t play along, Snipe labelled him a spoilsport.

They finished just in time for dinner.

The next morning, she woke up sore and not looking forward to the day ahead.  This was going to get very old, very fast.

They were brought back out to the yard after breakfast.  Ravess stopped in the middle of the yard and stared at the sandbag wall with an unreadable expression.  Thinking nothing of it, she went to the wall and pulled down one of the sandbags.  Dumping out the sand, she turned to toss the empty bag onto the ground and got sucker punched in the face.  She stumbled back, hitting the sandbag wall before the throbbing pain in her cheek and the realization of what just happened hit her.  

She was grabbed by the front of her jumpsuit and held against the wall as she looked up into Ravess’ snarling face.  “I told you we weren’t done.”  Ace came up behind Ravess, grabbing her by the shoulders, ready to pull her away.   “Get your hands off me, Ace; this doesn’t concern you,” Ravess spat at him.

She nodded to Ace, who backed off.  She and Ravess needed to sort out their differences on their own.

“You’re still mad that we didn’t include you in our plan?” she sneered at Ravess.

“Oh, there is so much more than that to be mad at you about.  You’ve had this coming for a long time.”  

Ravess drew back her fist.  She broke the hold she had on her and ducked under the blow.  Grabbing a fistful of sand, she pushed Ravess away from her and flung the sand at her face.  Ravess turned her head and threw an arm up to shield herself, which protected her from the worst of it.  Still, it was enough of a distraction to allow her to tackle the other woman to the ground.  

“It’s not my fault you’re here,” she said, struggling to pin Ravess down.  She’d never thought about how much upper body strength an archer must have until now.

“The hell it isn’t; we’re all here because you failed to be the leader Cyclonia needed!”

“Well, you’d know all about failure, wouldn’t you?  You excel at it.  That’s why I banished you, and that’s what this is really about, isn’t it?  What do you want from me, Ravess?  To tell you I was wrong?”

“Please, we both know you would never.  So I’ll settle for making you bleed.”  

Ravess grabbed her collar and yanked hard, unbalancing her and giving herself the opening she needed to flip their positions and start pummeling her.

She tucked her chin and put her arms up to guard her face, protecting her head as best she could while she worked her way into a position that would allow her to get out from under Ravess.  Getting the leverage she needed, she rolled, throwing Ravess off her and scrambling to her feet.  

Ravess was up at the same time and went right back on the offensive, taking several swings at her that she was able to dodge or block.  It didn’t take long for the other woman to become visibly frustrated.  It made her sloppy, and soon Ravess took a wild swing at her, leaving herself open.  It was just the opportunity she needed.  Stepping in, she landed a solid blow to her temple.  It didn’t knock her out, but it did disorient her.  She disengaged, taking a few wobbly steps backwards before dropping to one knee and raising one hand in a ‘don’t come any closer’ gesture.

She dropped her guard.  “Impatience always was your greatest weakness,” she said, smirking.  

“And arrogance was always yours,” Ravess answered as her other hand came up to hurl sand and dirt at her.  She reacted too slowly.  Some of the grit made it into her eyes, temporarily blinding her, and she didn’t see the punch coming.  Ravess’ fist connected with her nose with enough force to knock her flat.  Sharp pains shot through her entire face, making her eyes water, and she could taste blood.

Blinking her eyes to clear them, she saw the blurry form of Ravess standing over her with a vicious little grin. 

With a snarl, she lashed out with a kick aimed at Ravess’ knee.  Ravess dropped with a pained scream, and she leapt on top of her.  Straddling her, she grabbed the front of Ravess’ jumpsuit, holding her down while drawing back her fist, ready to repay her for the punch to the nose.

“That’s enough,” Mr. Moss’ voice rang out.  She hesitated but didn’t drop her fist.  “Don’t be stupid, Cyclonis,” he spoke again.  “You know I’ll happily make you regret it.  Now put your hands behind your head.”

She hesitated a moment longer, glaring at Ravess as her blood dripped onto the other woman.  “Go on, hit me,” Ravess dared her.  That galvanized her to act.  Scoffing, she put her hands behind her head.  Mr. Moss was there in an instant, grabbing her by the back of the collar with his non-broken hand and hauling her off of Ravess.  He shoved her toward Ace before turning back to Ravess.  “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

He offered her his hand, jerking her to her feet when she took it.  Ravess remained standing when he let go, though she had to shift most of her weight to her good leg.

“Pinch your nose as hard as you can tolerate,” Ace told her.  Wincing, she did as he advised, tilting her head back.  Gently, he put his hand on the back of her head and tilted it forward instead.

“My men tell me you started this fight,” Mr. Moss told Ravess.  “That true?”

“Yes,” she answered, sounding unrepentant.

“I hope it was worth a week in solitary.”

She looked up as he spoke to gauge her reaction.  Ravess watched her with a smirk that only grew when their eyes met.  “Oh, it was.”

“Well, alright,” Mr. Moss said.

~*~*~

Ace and Snipe were returned to their cells while she and Ravess were escorted to medical.  

An examination confirmed that her nose was broken.  The good news was that nothing looked displaced, and she could successfully, albeit painfully, breathe through it.  Tross taped it and gave her an ice pack before moving on to Ravess.

Ravess’ knee was sprained, and the hit she took to the temple seemed to have caused a mild concussion.  She was being admitted overnight to the infirmary for observation and, if no complications arose, would be moved to solitary in the morning.

An hour after being brought to the infirmary, she was back in her cell, and they spent the rest of the day locked down.

The following day, they were sent back out to the yard, where it became apparent that Ravess’ punishment was a punishment for them all.  Although they were down a man, they were still expected to build a sandbag wall to the original specifications.  What had taken them ten hours before was now taking them over twelve.

On Friday, it rained the entire day.  That brought a whole new dimension of misery to their work, and it took them even longer to complete the task.  Mr. Moss had had a good laugh at their expense when they finally trudged back into the prison, muddy and soaked to the bone.

All in all, it had been a very long, exhausting week.  

On Saturday, the Storm Hawks visited.  Since her Fridays were now spoken for, their visit date had been officially moved.  

“Come with me,” she told Ace at breakfast that day.

“No.”

“They asked to see you last time.”

“I remember.  I refused then, too.”

“Ace!”

“Whining doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not whining.”

“Really?  Because you sounded the same way when you were seven, and I was teaching you how to handle getting knocked down without crying about it.”

She frowned.  “I still think that was a messed up thing to do to a 7-year-old.”

He shrugged.  “It’s one of the first combat lessons every page who hopes to become a Sky Knight learns at that age.  It’s important.  Besides, I couldn’t hold off any longer, even if I wanted to.  You were bored doing nothing but running drills and wanted to move on to real sparring.  You needed to be prepared for the reality of what you were asking for.”

Before she could respond to that, Snipe spoke up.  “If Ace doesn’t wanna go meet with the Storm Hawks, can I come?  They brought me food that one time when you guys were locked up.  D’you think they’d do it again if I asked?”

“I don’t know, Snipe.  Do you have any other information they want to bribe out of you?” she asked.  

“I don’t think so.”

“Then no.”

“I don’t wanna go, then,” he said, turning his attention back to his breakfast, and she looked back to Ace.  

“Please, Ace, do you know how insufferable they will be when I walk in looking like this so soon after the last debacle?”  She gestured to her face, at her broken nose and the bruising that had formed across her left cheek.  

“You didn’t have to fight Ravess, you know.  I could have handled her for you.”

“Of course I had to fight her.  I would have looked weak if I hadn’t.  And it only would have postponed the inevitable.”

He tilted his head, conceding the point.  

“I feel like I’m under a microscope when I meet with them.  It’s Aerrow’s fault.  I don’t know why he even bothers tagging along anymore.  You’d think he’d have better things to do with his time.”

“So you want me there to distract Aerrow?  Why?  What are you up to?”

“I have a favour to ask of Piper.  She’ll be more likely to agree if she doesn’t have him by her side, coming up with a hundred and one reasons why she shouldn’t.”

“Why?  Is it illegal?”

“No.”

“Unethical?”

“No.”

“Then why would he have a problem with it?”

“He doesn’t like me.  He’ll argue against helping me on general principle.”

He thought that over.

“It’s not a bad plan, bringing along someone he hates more than you.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Just this once.”

~*~*~

As she had hoped, Aerrow and Piper were caught off guard by Ace’s inclusion in the meeting. 

“Dark Ace,” Piper was the first to speak once everyone was settled around the table.  “We, uh, weren’t expecting you.  You look different.”

Aerrow smirked a little, adding a sarcastic, “Nice haircut.”

She’d gotten so used to his shorter hair that she didn’t notice it anymore, but judging by Ace’s scowl, he hadn’t quite gotten over the change.  “I didn’t have a say in the matter,” he said to Aerrow.  “What’s your excuse?”

The smirk dropped from Aerrow’s face.  “What’s wrong with my hair?” he quietly asked Piper.

“Nothing,” she reassured him.

Aerrow looked back at Ace with a mistrustful frown before looking at her.  The suspicion shifted to bemusement.

“What happened to you?”

That drew Piper’s attention from Aerrow to her.  “Were you in a fight?” she asked, exasperated.  “Who’d you tick off this time?  And how are you still finding time to make trouble?  Mr. Moss said he gave you guys jobs.”

Ace leaned in closer to whisper in her ear.  “I see now why you wanted me here.”

“If you have something to say, Dark Ace, say it to all of us,” Aerrow challenged.

“I was just remarking upon your navigator’s uncanny resemblance to an angry mother hen.”

“Hey!” Piper exclaimed.

Aerrow jumped quickly to Piper’s defence, and Ace nudged her.  With Aerrow’s feathers ruffled and his attention solely on Ace, now was the perfect time to speak with Piper.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked Piper, nodding toward one of the empty tables.

Piper looked suspicious but stood, and they moved to the other table.  “Okay, what do you want, and why did you think you needed to distract Aerrow to get it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do I look stupid to you?”

She grinned.  “Brave question.”

“Good talk,” Piper said, standing.

“Wait!  You’re the least stupid person I know.  Now sit down.”

Piper rolled her eyes but sat.  “You must really want whatever you’re going to ask me for to say that.”

“I need a favour.  I promise it’s nothing bad.”

“If it’s nothing bad, then why the subterfuge?”

“Because I want to keep this between us.  I didn’t even tell Ace what it’s about.  I need you to locate a book for me.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Okay.  What’s the book?”

“It’s called The Great Myth.”

“Who’s the author?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’m working off some pretty old memories here, Piper.”

“Okay…well, what’s it about?”

“It’s a history book.  The Terran Library of Atmosia might have a copy,” she suggested.  “That’s where I’d look first.”

“So what’s so important about this book?”

“Nothing.  Someone once suggested I read it.”

“Wow, you’re doing something someone asked you to do?” Piper joked.

“Very funny.”

“They must be important to you,” Piper said more seriously.

“They were.”  

Piper nodded.  “Okay, I’ll see if I can track down a copy for you.”  Looking back over to the other table, she said, “We should get back over there before they find a way to kill each other.  But first, seriously, are you okay?”

She shrugged off Piper’s concern.  “I’m fine.  It was a one-off fight,” she said.  She hoped.  “And I didn’t start it, by the way.  Your lack of faith in me is offensive.”

“You haven’t done anything to inspire me to believe in you.  Any time you want to try and change my mind, feel free.”

“That sounds like a fool’s errand.”

“I thought you never backed down from a challenge.”

She smirked, and they rejoined the other table, breaking up the argument the boys had been in the middle of.  There was no further conversation between them while Piper checked the cuffs, and they mutually agreed to end the visit immediately after.  

“This was fun,” Ace declared as the Storm Hawks stood.  “Can’t wait to do it again soon.”

“You’re coming to more of these visits?” Aerrow sounded agitated, and Ace’s eyes lit up with amused malice. 

“Perhaps.”

“That went well,” she grinned as they returned to their cells.  Ace’s answering laughter made him sound like his old self again.

~*~*~

Piper’s heart sank when the elderly librarian furrowed her brow in confusion upon hearing her request.  This couldn’t just be easy, could it?  Nothing about Cyclonis ever was.  

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of it, either.  Sorry for wasting your time,” she said, turning to go.  Maybe she would have better luck on Terra Rex.

“Wait, my dear, I’ve heard of it,” the librarian said, and she turned back to her hopefully.

“You have?”

The librarian broke out in a delighted smile.  “Oh yes, I did my dissertation on it.  I was surprised to hear someone your age ask to check it out.  It’s one of the seminal works of non-fiction we have in our archives, offering unprecedented insight into the early days of the Free Atmos.  And I know what you’re thinking, Terra Rex has the market cornered on early Atmosian historical artifacts.”

She wasn’t thinking that, but she nodded along anyway.

“But not,” the librarian said, dramatically pausing before continuing.  “From a Cyclonian perspective.”

“No offence, but I already know what the Cyclonian perspective is on the formation of the Free Atmos.”

“Do you?” the librarian asked, her brown eyes twinkling.  

“Don’t I?” she answered hesitantly.  The librarian just smiled, and she went on.  “What I don’t get is why I’ve never heard of this book until a few days ago.  If it’s such an influential history text-”

“Ah, that’s not precisely true.”

“I was told it’s a history book.”

“It’s a memoir.  You may never have heard of it, but you’ll find mentions throughout the footnotes of many of our history books.  Of course, so few people read footnotes these days.”

“A memoir?  Whose?”

The librarian clapped her hands before clasping them to curb her excitement.  “I am so glad you asked.”

She looked at the librarian expectantly.

“That’s one of history’s great unanswered questions.”

“The book was published anonymously?”

“Oh no, it was published under the name Canton I. Scylla.”

“You think that’s a pseudonym?”

“I know it is.  One of the few things we know for certain about him is that he went by a fake name.”

“No one knew his real name?”

“No.  But there are theories.  Nearly five hundred years worth of theories.  Would you like to take a seat, dear?  This will take a while.”

“Oh, no, thank you.  I just need-”

She cut off as the librarian ushered her to one of the tables and pulled out a chair for her.  With a pained smile, she sat.

Over the next several hours, she was given a comprehensive crash course on The Great Myth, its mysterious author, and the various academic theories surrounding both.

The book, which she decided she’d read before she handed it over to Cyclonis, sounded fascinating.  From what she was told, it painted a nuanced and thoughtful picture of the sociopolitical landscape of the Cyclonian Empire before, during, and after the Free Atmos broke away.  

Not much was known about Canton besides being a Cyclonian, born and raised somewhere within the Empire’s Core.  That was the nickname given to those terras that would remain a part of the Empire by those that would soon break away from it.  The ones that took more than they gave.  The ones blind to the suffering of the terras on the outskirts of the Empire, whose food they ate, whose crystals they burned through, and whose young men they pressed into service to protect the Core from their increasingly desperate brethren.

And it had been blindness at first.  Canton spoke with poignant nostalgia of a youth spent in blissful ignorance and of an Empire unaware that it was about to collapse in on itself.  He was happy, after all.  Everyone he knew was.  They wanted for nothing.  The thought that their experience was not universal never crossed their minds.

But as he grew, so did the outer terras’ discontent and his awareness.  It became harder to ignore.  He wrote, sometimes scathingly, of how the people of the Core, from the average citizen up to the Master himself, had tried.  And he wrote of the harsh measures taken once ignoring the problem became impossible.

Then the outer terras began to break away, and the real problems started.  The Core quickly discovered how reliant they had become upon those lost terras.  Resources dwindled, and people who had never known hardship began to experience it for the first time.  There was suffering and loss and anger.  Eamon Cyclonis, the Master then, quickly directed his people’s anger toward those terras who dubbed themselves the Free Atmos.  They had broken the Empire.  They had destroyed the prosperity they had all so recently enjoyed.  They were the enemy.

And Cyclonian jingoism was born.  

Canton left the Empire soon after, eventually settling on Atmosia itself.  He was an enigma—an academic with more than an academic knowledge of Cyclonian history and politics.  Theories abounded.  He was Cyclonian nobility, forced to flee the Empire after being accused of being a Free Atmosian sympathizer.  He was a member of the Master’s inner circle, exiled for some real or imagined failure.  He was a servant who had heard too much, who ran before the Master decided he needed to disappear.  

“I don’t think that last one is very likely,” the librarian told her.  “Canton was clearly very well educated.  A scholar with the soul of a poet,” she sighed, then scoffed at herself.  “Oh, listen to me!  I sound like a schoolgirl with a crush.”

She grinned.  “It sounds like he wrote one heck of a memoir.”

“That he did.  I’m afraid I’m not doing it justice.  You’ll see.”

“So, who do you think he was?”

The librarian grinned.  “Oh, I subscribe to the most controversial theory of all.”

She waited, but the librarian didn’t offer up an explanation.  “You’re not going to tell me?”

“You seem like a smart girl.  I want to see if you can figure it out.  Go on; it’ll be fun.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then I’ll get you started.  Embrace your inner conspiracy theorist and ask yourself, ‘What’s in a name?’”

She stared at the librarian for a moment before smiling.  “No….”

The librarian raised her eyebrows and slid a pen and paper her way.  She wrote out the name Canton I. Scylla.  “You think it’s an anagram?” she asked the librarian as she wrote.

“There's a compelling reason to believe it is.”

She looked at the letters, mentally rearranging them in her head.  It didn’t take long for one name to jump out at her.  She crossed out the C, the O, and the N.  She crossed out the I.  She crossed out the S, C, Y, and one of the L’s.

Underneath, she wrote ‘Cyclonis.’

The librarian sat back with a satisfied hmph.

 “Eamon had two sons,” she explained.  “The eldest, Alaric, became Master after his death.  The youngest….”

She pointed to each of the five letters that remained.

“Altan?”

“Records are fuzzy about what became of him.  Full disclosure, we don’t know much about Cyclonian history following the formation of the Free Atmos.  They started guarding their secrets as jealously as they guarded their resources.  It’s possible that he lived out his life on Cyclonia, doing whatever it is those spare Cyclonis scions do.  Or….”

“Or he defected to Atmosia and wrote a book denouncing his own people.”

“Just so.  Of course, Canton denied that he was Altan to his dying day.  One can hardly blame him.  I have heard that he confessed on his deathbed to never marrying and having children to avoid perpetuating his ‘poisonous bloodline.’  As you can imagine, that tale is apocryphal.  All verifiable accounts say he died suddenly in his sleep.  But it’s a fun story.”

She laughed uncomfortably.  Fun.  

“Okay, but if he was Altan, why not stay on Cyclonia and try to fix things?  He saw the road they were heading down, and he knew what they were becoming.  He could have stopped it.  He could have at least tried.”

“Everything I’ve read about Alaric suggests that he was his father’s son in every way.  He would never allow himself to be steered off course by anyone, not even his brother.  To make any meaningful changes, Altan would have to become the Master of Cyclonia.  And that…well, as I said before, he was a scholar and a poet.  I don’t think he had it within him to do what needed to be done to make that happen.”

Piper sighed.  She wanted to be angry at him for not doing what needed to be done.  But at the same time, she could understand not wanting to cross certain lines.  He had been between a rock and a hard place, and she wasn’t sure what she would have done in his position.

“Is there some sort of study guide that gives an overview of all these theories I can borrow alongside The Great Myth?”

“You’re in luck; I have just the thing.  I even know the author personally,” the librarian said with a wink, and Piper laughed.  She’d certainly come to the right place.

~*~*~

Cyclonis learned of Ravess’ release from solitary when the woman showed up in the doorway of her cell after dinner.

She was on her feet in an instant.  “Are you here to get yourself thrown back into solitary already?”

Ravess chuckled.  “Don’t get your hackles up; I’m not here to fight you.”  She limped further into the cell, scoffing a little when she noticed her noticing.  “Credit where credit’s due; you’re scrappier than I expected you to be.”

“Why are you here, then?” she asked, crossing her arms.  

“I’ve had time to think things over, and I forgive you for not including me in your escape attempt.”

It was her turn to laugh.  Was she serious?  “Thank you, the guilt has been eating me up inside,” she said sarcastically.

Ravess sneered.  “What I really mean is that I wouldn’t want to include you in my escape attempt, either.”

“I’m shocked.”

“Not because I believe that you deserve to rot in here forever,” Ravess continued as if she hadn’t spoken.  “But because I’m starting to think you believe you deserve to rot in here forever.”

The small amount of entertainment she was getting from this conversation evaporated.  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked as Ravess smiled, pleased with herself.

“You tell me.  You’re the one who botched two escape attempts.  You, who came within a hair’s breadth of conquering the entire Atmos, can’t break yourself out of prison?  You must not want it badly enough.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and that’s saying a lot.”

“There are only two explanations,” Ravess went on, unperturbed by the insult.  “Either the Atmosians succeeded in making you feel guilty, or you don’t want to go back home.  Maybe a little of both?  Hmm?  I can’t help but notice that you’re not arguing.”

“Where’s all this coming from, Ravess?  What’d I ever do to you?” 

“You mean besides leaving me stateless?  Thanks to your stupid little war, few neutral terras were left when you banished me.  Exiled from Cyclonian territory, not welcome within the borders of the Free Atmos, where exactly did you expect me to go?”

“My stupid little war?”

Ravess rolled her eyes.  “Of course that’s what you fixate on.”

“I never heard any complaints from you about the war back in Cyclonia.”

“It wasn’t my place.”

“As one of my top Commanders, if you had any concerns, it was your job to voice them.”

Ravess’ laughter was incredulous.  “You are severely overestimating your own reasonableness.  You tolerated dissenting opinions as well as you tolerated failure.”

“That’s not fair.  I was very patient with your and your brother’s failures.”

“While we were useful to you.  And the moment you thought you could get the job done without us, you tossed us aside.  All I ever tried to do was win your stupid little war,” Ravess needled her by emphasizing those last four words, “as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

“To help restore the Empire to its former glory.”

“To go home and focus on my music.”

“Really?  If you hated fighting so much, why did you go right back to it after the war ended?”

“To liberate Cyclonia after you sold it out!  I couldn’t very well go back to Bluster with it under Atmosian rule, could I?”

“You’re telling me you never cared about us conquering the Atmos?”

“Why should I?  What difference did it make to me if you ruled all of the Atmos or just half of it?”

She scoffed.  She couldn’t believe this.  How many other Cyclonians felt the way Ravess did?  

“Well, I’m sorry you were so miserable furthering the interests of the Empire and its people.”

“So were you,” Ravess said as if she had a revelation.

She shook her head in denial.

“Yes, you were!  Half the time, you treated ruling the Empire like a distraction that was taking you away from your real work.  It all makes sense now.  You just wanted everyone to leave you alone so you could play with your crystals, didn’t you?”

“That’s not true,” she frowned.  She didn’t appreciate Ravess questioning her dedication to the Empire.  So what if she hadn’t always been happy dealing with the minutiae of the job or the pomp and ceremony of state affairs?  She’d seen them all through, hadn’t she?  No one could accuse her of shirking her imperial duties.

“Of course not,” Ravess said, her tone falsely placating.  “I’m sure you’d go back to the Empire and pick things up right where you left off if only you could escape….”

“I didn’t sabotage those escape attempts,” she said, growing more annoyed by the second.  

“Maybe, maybe not.  But one thing is for certain.  If and when I stage my escape, you won’t be a part of it.  I want mine to succeed.”

“Best of luck, now get out,” she said, pointing to the door behind Ravess.  She half suspected that Ravess was trying to goad her into throwing a punch now, and she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Gladly,” Ravess said with a smirk before turning and limping back to her cell.

~*~*~

Piper set the book down on the table in front of her, watching Cyclonis as she did so.  After reading the book, she had a hard time understanding what Cyclonis wanted with it.  It directly contradicted everything she claimed to believe about her empire. 

Even stranger, Cyclonis looked at the book as if she saw a ghost.  Glancing over at the other table, where the Dark Ace was once again serving as a distraction for Aerrow, she judged that she had time to ask a few questions before handing over The Great Myth, along with the librarian’s book of theory and analysis she had borrowed with it.  

“You didn’t think this book existed, did you?” she accused her.  

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cyclonis said, reaching across the table to take the book.  She slapped her hand on top of it, preventing her from claiming it.

“Who asked you to read this book?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you asked for my help.  Who told you about this book, Lark?” she asked, hoping to goad her into answering the question.

“That’s not going to work,” she said, seeing through her tactic.

“Fine.  I guess I’ll take this back to the library, then.”

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

“Because I burned an entire afternoon getting a history lesson from an overzealous librarian about this book and then even more time reading it.  And now I’m curious who would be daring enough to recommend it to you.”

The look Cyclonis gave the book this time was less ‘seeing a ghost’ and more ‘confronting a Saharran spitting viper.’

“Is it that bad?”

“Answer my question and find out for yourself.”

Cyclonis still wasn’t forthcoming with an answer, and she was just about to shove the book back into her bag when the other girl’s shoulders slumped as she sighed.  “My father.”

That was not the answer she had been expecting.  

“Weren’t you really young when he died?”

“Yes.”

“You can remember stuff from that long ago?”

“Bits and pieces.  And I had a very vivid dream while I was sick.  I wasn’t sure if it was just a dream or a memory.”

“And now that you know this book is real, you think it was a memory.”

Cyclonis seemed reluctant to answer but finally said, “Yes.”

“It doesn’t sound like it was a very happy one,” she said sympathetically.  Cyclonis shrugged, but she could tell from her expression that she was right.  If this book played a key role in it, she wasn’t surprised.  While the author didn't demonize the Cyclonian Empire, per se, he didn’t pull his punches when it came to criticizing it when it was deserved, or its ruling family.  She couldn’t understand why Cyclonis’ father would recommend this book to anyone, least of all his daughter and heir.  

“You said before that you had no idea who wrote this book.  You sure about that?”

“Canton Scylla,” Cyclonis answered, reading the name inscribed on the cover.

“That wasn’t his real name.”

Cyclonis didn’t look surprised, which she found suspicious.  She knew, or at least suspected, more than she was letting on.

She pulled the other book out of her bag, setting it atop The Great Myth before passing both books over to Cyclonis.  “You should read the top book first.  It offers up some interesting theories about who Canton was.  And I think you’ll get more out of it if you know who wrote it first.”

~*~*~

Cyclonis didn’t read the first book so much as skim it.  She already knew what she was looking for: proof for or against The Great Myth being written by an ancestor.  

It didn’t take long to find it.  Altan Cyclonis.  She didn’t bother trying to deny the theory to herself.  It made too much sense.  She remembered her private history lessons.  The ones taught not by her tutors but by her grandmother.  She recognized the name.  He was her many times great-granduncle from the time of the dissolution of the original Cyclonian Empire.  And the family’s greatest disgrace.  

He had been jealous of his older brother’s ascension to the throne but too weak-willed to usurp his power.  And so he had betrayed the family in the worst way possible.  He had defected to the Free Atmos.  Even there, he failed to become anyone of note and died in penniless obscurity.

Her grandmother hadn’t mentioned him writing a book.  Given the memories she had uncovered, she wasn’t surprised.  She wondered what else her grandmother had failed to mention about him or outright lied about.  

With much trepidation, she opened The Great Myth to the first page.

[thedoctorandhis]

You woke to the sound of thunder and rain hammering against the roof of your apartment. The bustle of Auckland City streets below created a symphony of distant car horns and rushing footsteps. It had taken some getting used to, winter in July and hot summer days on Christmas, but after nearly six years in New Zealand, it felt like a second home.

This morning, you woke with a start, your heart pounding from yet another nightmare. Clocks ticking backward and a fire engulfing your mind's eye. All you could hear was your mother's voice telling you to come home. The memory clung to you, unsettling and vivid. These dreams had been recurring for weeks, leaving you with an uneasy feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Turning over, you looked at the clock. 6:30 AM and still pitch black outside. It was too early, yet the city was already alive with activity. Cars honked, and people rushed about, seemingly unfazed by the early hour. Did they even go to sleep last night?

You slipped out of bed, wincing as your toes touched the cold floor. It felt like ice against your skin, a stark contrast to the burning sensation in your nightmare. Shivering, you wrapped a blanket around yourself, trying to shake off the lingering unease.

You padded to the kitchen, the tiles cold underfoot, and began your morning routine. The kettle whistled as you prepared a cup of tea, hoping the warmth would chase away the chill in your bones. You glanced around your small apartment, its cozy furnishings a far cry from the warmth of home. Homesickness washed over you, a familiar ache.

As you sipped your tea, a wave of dizziness hit you. You gripped the counter for support, your vision swimming. The sensation passed quickly, but it left you unsettled. You had never felt quite right since the nightmares began. There was a tightness in your chest, a hint of heartburn that refused to go away. It was as if something inside you was trying to tell you something, but you couldn't quite grasp what.

You tried to brush it off and focused on getting ready for work. You dressed quickly, choosing comfortable clothes to combat the cold. The mirror reflected a tired face, shadows under your eyes hinting at the restless nights. With a sigh, you grabbed your bag and headed out the door.

Your job at the travel centre was a far cry from what you had envisioned for yourself. Day in and day out, you helped people plan their holidays and adventures. Sometimes you would get swept up in the fantasy, imagining yourself on the islands in Greece or climbing a mountain in Machu Picchu. But as you sat there listening to your regular customer, Mr. James, talking about his fifth vacation for the year, your mind wandered back to those dreams.

You felt the burning of the flames on your skin, heard the clock ticking, and just like she was right behind you, your mother's voice whispered in your ear, "Honey, come home." You replied automatically, "Coming, Mum."

Mr. James looked confused. "Excuse me?"

You snapped back to reality. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. James. I haven't had anything to eat today. Low blood sugar probably, don't ya just hate that?" you say Quickly changing the subject "I'm more than happy to organise this for you. I have all of your details. Give me a few days to put together an itinerary, and I'll get back to you."

you ushered Mr. James out the door, knowing you had no intention of getting him those travel documents. You had a few plans of your own to make.

[mojput-mypath]

Complain about what?/Žaliti se na što?

The frustration about the things that we cannot change. The regret. The anger. The inability to accept. The time wasted!

The time I have wasted in my life on desperation about the things I cannot change. Every time I become aware of this; I feel like an idiot. Then I forget. Then I remember, and then again, I feel like an idiot. Life is truly circular.

At some point, life has become so pleasant, so comfortable. With the appearance of Vanja, who is my partner, his daughter, and grandfather in my life. It took some time of turmoil and adjustments, but eventually all fell into its right place. Let’s not forget doggy, who also came along. Let’s also not ignore the fact we live in a house. With a large yard. On the seaside. That I drive and own a car. I have two jobs, one more interesting and as challenging as the other. Life has truly taken a round form. It has become a stable, pleasant place. With its challenges. Yet, far from my lost self, several years ago, not knowing where to go, what to do. I am one of those people who really need someone by my side to stabilise. I have longed to love and to be loved. I would have died of longing. In due time (God, you did take some years to fulfil this one), he did arrive. I cannot be more grateful for his presence in my life. I cannot.

As human nature goes, there is always some imbalance, some or other challenge, a next step to be taken. I have started feeling so comfortable, not having my entire life hanging by a string, barely surviving. I kind of forgot that I still need to keep putting some more effort to grow. Now that I have people I rely on for love, comfort, stability – they provide me the knowledge, the growth, the mirror. So much so, that I have forgotten to make a greater effort myself.

I do have to remember also that I am very strict and hard on myself. The balance has to be found over and over again, that is certain.

I currently train three times per week, 1-to-1. I lead regular yoga classes. I run a Yoga School and an Ayurveda project – both Europe-wide. I do all the daily requirements of a household and family. I make time for travel, shopping… I teach, organise and attend yoga and meditation courses. The list could go on. On top of all this, I feel there is always room for improvement.

My plan is to practice more yoga, to start riding the bicycle in the forest and take the doggy with me, and to improve my workflow, so I can be more productive. Also, the Universe has provided me with a space in the local city, where I can finally start to do more programs in person, rather than only online. And I will soon also have a yoga retreat in the neighbouring region.

The more I write, the more I wonder what is it I can complain about? When do I have the time to waste?

Recently, I had a really beautiful holiday. I never really do holidays, as my work is my life, so there is never really a clear cut between the two. I suddenly decided to get tickets to go to Portugal. I have been wanting to go for some time, to visit my sister, but somehow, I always had some break in my mind stopping me. I kept thinking I don’t have time, or it’s too far or too expensive, and suddenly it was none. Tickets bought! I went first to the south. The weather was so strange the entire trip. Cloudy, without rain, but warm, then super sunny, then cold, then rain with wind. It took some time to reach the destination, where my friends live, but once finally arrived, I was awake and full of energy. The entire region (the little I have seen) of Algarve is just gorgeous. The small town where my friends live, is mostly a retreat centre area, with foreigners as inhabitants. Most people live here in the winter, working online, and then move out during the crowdy touristy summers.

The nature is absolutely beautiful, the greenery, the bamboo forests, and the beaches look like they are made for giants. Coming from Croatia, where the Adriatic is merely a little bay of the small, closed Mediterranean Sea – the ocean is a different story. Surrounding cliffs are enormous, the beaches endless, the waves going so high, covering the horizon. The sand is a soothing brownish colour, black stones with white stripes. In Croatia, the stones are just white, reflecting the sunlight to blindness. The huge body of water comes, lashes at your feet and recedes. Gurudev has given this example of the waves, describing the fleeting nature of the world, so many times. Seeing the ocean, I can now understand the comparison vividly.

A long walk, a tasty coffee, a special cake, a home-made pao de quijeso might be all one needs. But the company with it makes all the difference. A long walk sharing life stories with a fellow sister, a tasty coffee made and enjoyed with an old friend, and comfort food to wrap up the experience – is just what one needs from time to time to feel completely at ease.

From the wilderness of the south, I moved more north, to Coimbra, a small but invigorating town, on the river side, where my sister, Katina, lives. We visited the botanical garden, and one of the oldest universities in Europe – all very impressive, and even more so with two sisters! As Jelena joined us a day later. The three who have not met like this in a too long time. We spent some easy, light mornings, taking time to prepare food, to eat, to sit in the garden.

One evening, we were allowed to participate in an evening session of an Art of Living Teacher Training program. Just that very weekend, this course was going on in Coimbra. We could come and spend some time with the participants, and their amazing teacher, Annelies, who has inspired me more to teach youth meditation and yoga. This was so important for me, to have learned this wisdom and techniques when I was young and a bit on the crazy side, not taking responsibility for my life, but blaming others. We sat there like honoured guests, the three sisters… We sang together and were all super energised, we could barely go to sleep afterwards.

We continued to Lisbon, after me having a small accident, still walking, but a bit of a challenge to maintain a pace. There, our tour guide, Jelena, took us places, one of them being an old church. The feeling of greatness, serenity and glory filled the place. We kept walking most of the day, with small moments of rest for food and warm drinks. The weather was rain-sun-rain-sun-rain-sun – it literally changed every 10 minutes. The day eventually came to an end. We were tired, but full at the same time. Full of impressions, and also fulfilled for having spent some time together. We praised each other, happy to have sisters who we get along with, and understand each other and can have great fun!

________________________________________________________

HRVATSKI PRIJEVOD

Frustracija zbog stvari koje ne možemo promijeniti. Žaljenje. Ljutnja. Nemogućnost prihvaćanja. Gubljenje vremena!

Vrijeme koje sam provela u svom životu očajavajući zbog stvari koje ne mogu promijeniti. Svaki put kad postanem svjesna toga, osjećam se kao idiot. Onda zaboravim. Onda se sjetim, i opet se osjećam kao idiot. Život je uistinu kružna pojava.

U jednom trenutku, život je postao tako ugodan, tako udoban. S pojavom Vanje, mog partnera, njegove kćeri i nonića u mom životu. Trebalo je neko vrijeme nemira i prilagodbi, ali na kraju je sve sjelo na svoje mjesto. Ne smijemo zaboraviti ni psića, koji je također došao biti s nama. Ne smijemo zanemariti ni činjenicu da živimo u kući. S velikim dvorištem. Na obali mora. Da vozim i posjedujem auto. Imam dva posla, oba zanimljiva i izazovna. Život je uistinu poprimio zaokružen oblik. Postao je stabilno, ugodno mjesto. Sa svojim izazovima. Daleko od izgubljene sebe, prije samo nekoliko godina, kad nisam znala kuda ići, što raditi. Jedna sam od onih osoba koje stvarno trebaju nekoga pokraj sebe da se stabiliziraju. Žudjela sam za ljubavlju i za tim da budem voljena. Umrla bih bila od čežnje. U svoje vrijeme (Bože, stvarno ti je trebalo nekoliko godina da ovo ispuniš), on je stigao. Ne mogu biti zahvalnija za njegovu prisutnost u mom životu. Ne mogu.

Kao što ljudska priroda nalaže, uvijek postoji neka neravnoteža, neki ili drugi izazov, sljedeći korak koji treba poduzeti. Počela sam se osjećati tako ugodno, ne viseći više cijelim životom o niti, jedva preživljavajući. Na neki način, zaboravila sam da još uvijek trebam ulagati više truda da rastem. Sada kada imam ljude na koje se oslanjam za ljubav, udobnost, stabilnost – oni mi pružaju znanje, rast, ogledalo. Toliko da sam zaboravila ulagati veći trud.

Moram se također sjetiti da sam vrlo stroga i teška prema sebi. Ravnotežu treba pronalaziti iznova i iznova, to je sigurno.

Trenutno treniram tri puta tjedno, jedan na jedan. Vodim redovite satove yoge. Vodim školu yoge i projekt ayurvede – oba na europskoj razini. Obavljam sve svakodnevne obaveze u kućanstvu i obitelji. Nalazim vrijeme za putovanja, kupovinu... Podučavam, organiziram i pohađam tečajeve yoge i meditacije. Popis bi mogao ići dalje. Povrh svega ovoga, osjećam da uvijek ima prostora za napredak.

Moj plan je: prakticirati više yoge, početi voziti bicikl u šumi i voditi psića sa sobom, te poboljšati način i raspored rada, kako bih bila produktivnija. Također, Svemir mi je osigurao prostor u lokalnom gradu, gdje napokon mogu početi provoditi više programa uživo, a ne samo online. I uskoro ću imati i yoga retreat u susjednoj regiji.

Što više pišem, više se pitam na što se mogu žaliti? Kad imam vremena za gubljenje?

Nedavno sam imala zaista prekrasan odmor. Rijetko idem na odmor, jer je moj posao moj život, pa nema jasne granice. Odjednom sam odlučila kupiti karte za Portugal. Već neko vrijeme želim otići, posjetiti sestru, ali nekako sam uvijek imala neku kočnicu u mislima koja me sprječavala. Stalno sam mislila da nemam vremena, ili je predaleko ili preskupo, a odjednom ništa od toga nije bilo točno. Karte kupljene! Prvo sam otišla na jug. Vrijeme je cijelo putovanje bilo čudno. Oblačno, bez kiše, ali toplo, pa super sunčano, pa hladno, pa kiša s vjetrom. Trebalo je neko vrijeme da stignem do odredišta, gdje žive moji prijatelji, ali kad sam konačno stigla, bila sam budna i puna energije.

Cijela regija (ono malo što sam vidjela) Algarve je prekrasna. Mali gradić u kojem žive moji prijatelji, uglavnom je područje centara za povlačenje, s strancima kao stanovnicima. Većina ljudi ovdje živi zimi, radeći online, a zatim se sele tijekom gužve turističkih ljeta.

Priroda je apsolutno prekrasna, zelenilo, bambusove šume, plaže koje izgledaju kao da su napravljene za divove. Dolazim iz Hrvatske, gdje je Jadran tek mali zaljev malog, zatvorenog Mediteranskog mora – ocean je druga priča. Okolne litice su ogromne, plaže beskrajne, valovi idu tako visoko, prekrivajući horizont. Pijesak je umirujuće smeđe boje, crno kamenje s bijelim prugama. U Hrvatskoj su kamenčići samo bijeli, reflektiraju sunčevu svjetlost do sljepoće. Ogromna količina vode dolazi, udara noge i povlači se. Gurudev je toliko puta koristio ovaj primjer valova, opisujući prolaznu prirodu svijeta. Gledajući ocean, sada mogu u živo razumjeti usporedbu.

Duga šetnja, ukusna kava, poseban kolač, domaći pao de queijo je sve što je nekad potrebno. Ali društvo uz to čini svu razliku. Duga šetnja dijeleći životne priče s sestrom, ukusna kava napravljena i uživana s starim prijateljem, i hrana za utjehu koja zaokružuje iskustvo – upravo je ono što je s vremena na vrijeme potrebno da se čovjek osjeća potpuno opušteno.

Iz divljine juga, preselila sam se sjevernije, u Coimbru, mali, ali živahni grad, uz rijeku, gdje živi moja sestra Katina. Posjetile smo botanički vrt i jedno od najstarijih sveučilišta u Europi – sve vrlo impresivno, a još više u društvu čak dvije sestre! Kako nam se Jelena pridružila dan kasnije. Nas tri, koje se nismo ovako družile predugo. Provele smo lagana, opuštena jutra, uzimajući vrijeme za pripremu hrane, jelo, sjedenje u vrtu.

Jedne večeri, smo sudjelovale na večernjoj sesiji programa za obuku učitelja Art of Livinga. Upravo taj vikend, tečaj se održavao u Coimbri. Mogle smo doći i provesti neko vrijeme s sudionicima i njihovom nevjerojatnom učiteljicom Annelies, koja me više inspirirala da podučavam mlade ljude meditaciju i yogu. To mi je bilo toliko važno, da sam naučila ovu mudrost i tehnike dok sam bila mlada i pomalo luda, ne preuzimajući odgovornost za svoj život, nego kriveći druge. Sjedile smo tamo kao počašćene gošće, nas tri sestre... Pjevale smo zajedno i bile smo toliko energizirane, jedva smo mogle zaspati nakon toga.

Nastavile smo prema Lisabonu, nakon što sam imala malu nezgodu, još uvijek hodajući, ali s izazovom da održim tempo. Tamo nas je naš vodič, Jelena, vodila na mjesta, jedno od njih je bila stara crkva. Osjećaj veličanstvenosti, spokojnosti i slave ispunjavao je mjesto. Hodale smo većinu dana, s malim trenucima odmora za hranu i tople napitke. Vrijeme je bilo kiša-sunce-kiša-sunce-kiša-sunce – doslovno se mijenjalo svakih 10 minuta. Dan je na kraju došao kraju. Bile smo umorne, ali istovremeno i ispunjene. Puni dojmova, a također ispunjene jer smo provele neko vrijeme zajedno. Hvalile smo jedna drugu, sretne što imamo sestre s kojima se slažemo, razumijemo i možemo se sjajno zabaviti!

[f1]

Perez owns up to FP1 mistake as he thanks Red Bull for tremendous job to repair car

Sergio Perez has held his hands up after crashing out of first practice at the Hungarian Grand Prix but paid tribute to Red Bull’s mechanics for getting his car repaired in time for the second session. Shortly after the FP1 action had kicked off, Perez dipped a wheel over the grass approaching the Hungaroring’s Turn 5, lost control of his RB19 and slid off track into the barriers, causing significant front-end damage. READ MORE: Perez intrigued by Red Bull’s upgrades as he looks to end ‘rough patch’ in Hungary Perez was able to make it back out on track in FP2 after a rapid turnaround by the Red Bull crew, winding up 18th on the timesheets as drivers ran different programmes under the Alternative Tyre Allocation in place this weekend. “It was just a mistake from my side,” said Perez as he reflected on the opening day. “But the guys have done a tremendous job to get the car together and get some running in FP2. At least we got some good data to look through. This feature is currently not available because you need to provide consent to functional cookies. Please update your cookie preferences 2023 Hungarian GP FP1: Nightmare start for Perez who crashes on his out-lap to trigger red flag “Obviously with the weekend format in terms of tyre usage, it will be very important to be able to get a good balance through basically all the compounds, because we’ve seen that in qualifying we’re going to be going through them all – I think we got good information.” Asked how Red Bull’s upgrades – centred around new sidepods – are feeling, Perez added: “I think it’s very early in that regard, given the little running that we ended up doing with the tyre format that we have. I think we will have a better idea tomorrow, [but] certainly, the grid looks really, really tight.” FP2: Leclerc narrowly leads Norris and Gasly during mixed up second practice session in Budapest Verstappen, meanwhile, ended the day in 11th position, admitting that it is too early to tell how Red Bull’s new developments are working given the rain-affected FP1 and the aforementioned reduced tyre allocation. Red Bull ended the day 11th and 18th on the timesheets, with Verstappen ahead of Perez “I mean, honestly, [it’s] very hard to comment on… We’ll look through the data to see if everything is correlating very well, because we haven’t actually used a lot of tyre sets today,” he said. “I think the car felt not too bad, a bit of understeer, but I went out again and also the long run looked quite competitive. It’s a bit difficult to say over one-lap pace, but I think overall the car is still strong.” NEED TO KNOW: The most important facts, stats and trivia ahead of the 2023 Hungarian Grand Prix Pushed for his expectations, he said: “I mean, we want to of course be the quickest, but at the moment we first need to do a little bit more running with more tyre sets as well to get a bit more of a better understanding.” via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com