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maybe-its-micheal · 3 years ago

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Little mini-fic from my au! Basically its a dst and dsmp cross over!

Wanda from Don't starve (an experienced time traveler who struggles with memory loss) and Karl from the Dream SMP (a much less experienced time traveler who struggles with even worse memory loss) meet!

This takes place a few weeks after they first met, they're in Kinoko Kingdom sitting on top of a mushroom house at night :) this is basically just them talking. It gets a little emotional!

The stars were much brighter here than in the constant, as far as Wanda remembered. She was fairly certain that sky had no stars at all, just a crumbling moon. But here, in another world, sitting on top of a fantastically giant mushroom, she could see them for the first time since she was trapped in the constant.

She missed her old home, but at the same time she couldn't be sure. The details were fuzzed, and got more disjointed every time she went looking for them again. At least that wasn't a feeling she had to face alone.

"You know, I never thought I'd meet someone else... like me," the young boy said. His face was uncharacteristically serious, and his body was crinkled into a small ball, all tucked into his hoodie. "I didn't even understand it, and I still don't think I do. It just... happened. I didn't know why, and I felt-" he paused. He was not looking at the stars, but down at the mushy floor under them. He took a breath and continued. "I felt completely alone. I had no one to talk to about it, and I couldn't ask for help. I thought I would... die, or..." The effort it took to keep his voice from cracking was present in his tone. "Or worse. Forget everyone and just be... empty. Physically I'd be fine, but no past, no memory... nobody."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "I know its scary," she said gravely. She felt like she was diminishing the feeling by calling it "scary," it wasn't "scary." It felt like a void opening up in your soul, consuming everything that makes you who you are. It felt like being chained at the bottom of the ocean, not able to breathe, but not able to die either. It was the reality of eternity, to call it pain would even be downplaying it, but of course Karl knew that. She didn't need to restate it all. "Scary" was an acceptable shorthand.

"I know its scary, even in the happiest of moments the fear is there, eating away at you from the shadows in the back of your mind. But it hasn't happened, and there's a good chance it never will. You still have people here, people like Sapnap who care for you even on the hardest days, and me. I've never had anyone else know that fear before either. You can always talk to me." He sat quiet for a few moments, and so she continued. "You can feel things now; there are things you remember and know. I cant promise it will always be that way, but we have only the present. Wouldn't you rather have lived? A beautifully average life, full of joy and sadness. Full of emotion and experience, a real, tactile life that grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you out of bed every morning. Wouldn't you rather have lived a life like that and forgotten in the end then be haunted by emptiness? At least then you will have had joy, as opposed to only having fear."

Wanda pulled her eyes away from the stars and looked at him. He didn't meet her gaze, his eyes were still on the mushroom they sat upon, but his serious face was smiling again. It was the smile she had some to know over these weeks, an authentic Karl smile. He blinked, trying to dry his glossy eyes, then looked up at her. "Yeah, you're right." He croaked.

Wanda smiled too. "Oh, I always am," she joked. He let out a small laugh, the tension in his shoulders finally letting go. They sat there for a bit longer, watching the stars together.

"You know," Karl started. "This has been exactly the cathartic conversation I needed, but I'll probably end up forgetting it ever happened." He laughed and smiled sadly, feeling at peace, and for once not stressing over how to make the feeling last. "Maybe I'll write it down," he suggested to himself, "or maybe I'll be ok. You forget the memory, but never the... the knowledge. Or how it makes you feel. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes," Wands admitted. "You'll never be able to place what happened, but at the same time your spirit remembers. If it changed you, you're still changed."

"Yeah," Karl agreed. "You're better at explaining things than me."

Wanda smiled back at him, "Maybe I've had more practice, but really there's no way to tell." They both laughed. It was indescribably freeing to have someone else who got it. Wanda had tried talking about things before, but of course it was never the same. They laughed and exchanged stories, thoughts, and feelings until the stars started to fade away with morning light. You could see vague silluettes in the distance, but there wasn't enough light to make them out.

"One thing that worry is... what if I've already forgotten?" Wanda expressed. "What if in another life, another time, I had friends, or family, or lovers. What if I've forgotten them, but they lived on, missing me until their time ran out. And no matter how meaningful it was then, now I don't even know their name."

"Forgetting a lover?" Karl asked.

"Yes. We could have had someone so important we wanted to spend our eternity with them, had a million conversations, been inspired and changed, and in the end... no one is around to truly know."

Karl's stomach turned. "What if you forgot... but the other person is still there. He knows your name, and loves you, and misses you... and a part of you still loves him back, somewhere deep down inside but... but you can't find it."

"I hadn't thought of that one," Wanda answered.

"I could look into his eye, the same way I probably did before, but this time instead of all that emotion and care its just... empty. Maybe a bit of regret, or guilt for letting yourself do it. But no love."

They were quiet for a bit. "Is this... something that happened?" Wanda asked. Her tone was genuine and full of concern.

"No, no," Karl answered. "Just another hypothetical." He stared in the direction of Las Nevadas as the sun rose. Already he was alone in a feeling again, even after meeting another time-traveler. And he wouldn't let himself get any closer to opening up about it.

"I also loose things all the time," he deflected. "Mostly books. Have you ever tried to re-locate a library when you hardly remember where the first one was? Don't recomend it."

Wanda accepted the subject change with a light hearted laugh. "That happened with my favorite screw drivers!" She shouted. "One minute I was using it on a clock, and the next... gone!"

#dst dsmp crossover #dont starve #dsmp #karl jacobs #wanda dont starve #wanda

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mxmorganmorph · 3 years ago

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Things Change

“You are her sole survivor, Matthew.”

“I don’t know, a heart attack or something. It’s not like we could pay for an autopsy.”

“It’s okay, you’re going to have a great time! I’ll be right at home waiting for you, alright?”

“You want us to help pay for MORE schooling after you wasted your degree on fag studies?”

“I do this because of you. You did this to me.”

“Leave the pup alone. Because I says so, tha’s why!”

“Alright, we’ll help you. But there’s something you have to do for us in the meantime.“

“Don’t come home.”

“Matti, look at me. I know this is scary. But your Mother, she’s going to be alright. She’ll pull through. And even if she-- you will ALWAYS have me, do you understand, Matti? I will never, ever leave you. I promise.”

“Matthew Morgan, you are found guilty on all charges.”

Returning home had left Morgan in a fugue state, reliving memories that they had long since tried to bury. They came disjointed, out of order, and seemingly at random, with no particular trigger. Some moments they’d be cooking in the kitchen they grew up in, completely fine--while others they would just be getting the mail and a wave of grief would hit so hard, it would send them into hours long sobbing fits. They didn’t reach out to anyone--the only person they stayed in contact with was their real estate agent as they trudged through the process of selling their childhood home. As soon as an offer was made, they accepted it, wanting it out of their life as soon as possible.

Once there was nothing left for them, they returned to the only place they’d called home--Redwood Hollow. They stepped out of the Uber that had transported them back to the small town from the airport, lugging a pink suitcase behind them with one hand while the other hugged a manila folder tightly against their chest. They squinted and blinked at the rising sun, wishing they’d worn one of their hats with a brim, rather than their typical black beanie.

The cool morning breeze told them that the first hints of fall were beginning to descend upon the town, a stark reminder of just how long they’d really been gone. Selling a house turned out to be much more of a process than they’d originally intended, especially with the deteriorating state it had been left in. Especially with the deteriorating state they had been left in.

With a heavy sigh, they began forward in the direction of their apartment. The wheel on their luggage caught on an uneven crack in the sidewalk, causing them to lurch forward and drop the envelope they were holding. It tumbled to the ground, with several photos splaying out of the folder and onto the pavement. A small gasp passed their lips as they fell to their knees, starting to gather everything up.

The first picture they retrieved was of three people in front of an artificial, blue background. First was a woman in a white turtleneck and a deep navy dress layered on top. These colors were starkly contrasted by her long, vibrant, red hair that curtained down over her shoulders, framing her wrinkled but neatly made up face. The smile she wore was wide, crinkling the sides of her eyes that were also alit with joy. She had a hand on the shoulder of each of the people surrounding her. On her left was another woman, about the same height but with shorter, choppier, red hair and a much more plain style of clothing--a simple cardigan atop a blouse. Despite being clearly younger, she seemed just as aged as the first woman, with dark bags under her eyes and skin pulled taut across her face. The smile she wore was small and strained. Between both the women was a young child in a pale blue dress shirt and black pants, signatured by a bright blue bow tie and wild red hair that stuck out in every direction. The smile they wore was the only one that showed teeth, a bright and shining grin.

*CHK!*

As the camera clicked and flashed, the three individuals let their expressions drop, looking away from the photographer and stretching their stiff limbs.

“Are we almost done?” The short haired woman complained.

“Just a few more, Mia, this is important! This is the picture we’re going to use for the family holiday card!” The older woman responded, sounding and looking a lot more energetic than her counterparts.

“Jews don’t send holiday cards, Mom.”

“Well this one does. I think it’s a wonderful tradition and it gives us the chance to show all of our friends back home how we’re doing.”

“Yeah, and you ever notice how none of them ever send cards back? Your friends all think you’re crazy.”

“Oh, hush. Now get ready, just a few more.”

“A few more?! Fuck that, I’m taking a smoke break first,” she grumbled, giving a half-hearted wave as she pivoted and walked out the door. The older woman sighed before turning her attention to the young child, who was fussing with their bow tie.

“Matti, stop that!” She scolded.

“But Bubbe, it itchessss!” They whined back, lips puckering in a pout.

“Here, let me loosen it for you,” she replied, taking the bow in both of her hands and gently pushing it looser, all while rearranging it so that it still looked prim and proper. She then took the opportunity to begin running her hands through the child’s hair, smoothing it out and styling it.

“Bubbeeeeee!” The child whined again, though knew better than to try and wriggle from her grip.

“Hush. Don’t you want our friends to see what a handsome young man you’ve grown up to be?” She pulled her hands away and within seconds, their stringy hair popped back up to its original, wild state. She sighed again, but gave a weary smile. “Well, it’ll have to do. It’s important Matti, that we all look our very best. No matter what happens, you always have to smile.”

Despite everything they’d gone through, Morgan had made an effort to dress up coming back to Redwood Hollow. “Dress up” was probably a strong term for it, as they were in the usual, dark casual wear they were best known for out of their drag. They were no longer in the tank top and sweats they’d worn almost every day while at home, nor was their hair the unkempt mess that they’d let it grow to over the months. At the very least, it now stuck out in a styled fashion from beneath their beanie. In all regards, they looked exactly the same as the day they had left, as if nothing had happened at all. They hardly believed themselves to be a well-beloved figure in town that everyone missed, but they did know that at least a few people were going to ask where they’ve been and how they’ve been doing. Morgan had spent the entire trip home preparing and practicing these answers, putting on their best face and their most winning smile.

The next picture they retrieved was outdoors. The edges were lined with beautiful greenery and distinguished looking white marble buildings, which people in the background were walking through from every direction. In the center of the picture was a large and imposing fountain with lavish design, with water cascading from ivory statues. Standing in front of that fountain was a young individual with wild but much longer red hair pulled back behind their shoulders. Holding it all down was a wide brimmed square black cap with a golden tassle hanging from it, which matched the flowing black robes they were wearing and the golden cord that hung around their neck. They held their hands up in a dramatic and flourishing pose, teeth shining in a bright grin.

“Ooooh! This is all so exciting!” A much older woman called as she lowered the camera, motioning the other to approach her.

The young person lowered their arms with a sigh, their grin dropping into a much smaller, much more exhausted smile as they walked across the plaza, where many other gowned individuals were also getting their picture taken in front of the ostentatious landmark. Once together, the woman threw her arms around them, squeezing them tight.

“To think, my little Matti graduating college! And me, getting to witness it!” She chirped, squeezing them once more before finally letting go. “Now come on, show me the rest of your campus! It’s not every day I get to visit a prestigious university, you know.”

Responding only with a nod, they started leading her down the path towards one of the many buildings that surrounded the quad. As the two walked together, the woman glanced over at the other, who at this point had grown taller than her. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You’re being awfully quiet. What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing, Bubbe, I’m fine,” they replied, once again putting on that winning smile.

“Matti...” She warned. They shifted uncomfortably before finally sighing.

“Could Mom really not come?”

The woman looked surprised for a moment before her expression and gaze fell to the pavement. “Your Mother...she’s in one of her states right now,” she explained carefully, though they both knew what that really meant. Still, putting on her own smile, she looked back up at the other. “But she wanted me to let you know how very proud she is of you. And how much she wished she could’ve been here.”

“Right,” they replied, seemingly not convinced. They kept their gaze forward until they felt a hand on their shoulder, causing them to glance over.

“Regardless, I’M proud of you, Matti. What you’ve accomplished over these last few years is incredible and I need you to know that I recognize everything you’ve done to get here. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“I know.”

“...That’s not the only thing, is it?”

A heavy silence hung between them before they admitted, “I don’t want to go back home.”

The woman looked like she had just been struck, eyes wide in shock. As the confession sunk in, she swallowed hard and looked away. “...I see.”

“Bubbe, it’s not because of YOU,” they backpedaled, stumbling over their words. “It’s just-- It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was supposed to graduate, get a job, get my own place, start my own life. I was going to rent myself a nice apartment that I could dress up in whatever way I liked and have you come visit and see how much progress I’ve made. I’m not supposed to just-- move back home. If I was going to end up back where I started, why did I even bother getting a degree?”

“Matti...those things will still happen. You’ll find work, eventually.”

“Yeah, with a Queer Studies degree? If I can’t find work in my field in a liberal city like this, how the hell am I supposed to find anything back in West Virginia?” The woman’s mouth opened before closing again, not having an answer.

“...I wasted everyone’s time and money. I should’ve studied something useful,” they said when she didn’t respond. They felt a bony hand squeeze their shoulder.

“You studied something that you were passionate about and makes you happy. You learned so much more than me or your Mother ever could and regardless of what anyone thinks--you got an education. That counts for something.” This time, it was their turn not to respond, staring ahead.

“...And hey, if all else fails, you can always become a beautician just like your old Bubbe, eh?” She said, voice lilting upwards to try and lift the mood.

“Yeah,” they snorted, “I’m sure Mom will be thrilled at the idea of paying for even MORE schooling.”

“We can work something out. Whatever it is you want to do with your life, Matti, I’m positive you can make it happen.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know what I want to do.”

Morgan was now in possession of more money than they ever thought they’d see in their life. However, once it became clear to Redwood College that they wouldn’t be returning in time for the fall semester, the school eliminated their contract. They supposed it couldn’t be helped. They were just an adjunct after all, so it’s not like there was any reason to actually keep them around. Regardless, it was probably their time to go anyway. Sure, it was the first ever job they’d had in the field they actually studied, but they did NOT know how to be an educator. The fact that the college had even hired them at all with no educational background was a miracle in and of itself. In between the terrible essays, the lectures that only half the class listened to, and having to pull teeth to facilitate class discussion--them being a professor had not been working out. But now, with earning money to survive no longer being a concern, what were they supposed to do with themselves?

The last spilled picture that they gathered was much older than the previous two, worn and crinkled slightly from age. The faded photo was of a couple standing in the middle of a town square, their arms wrapped around each other. One was a woman with long, wavy red hair, an orange sundress, and a beaming grin. The man was much shorter and rounder, with wild, stringy brown hair that went in every direction and spectacles adorning his face. Beneath the photo in the white margins, written in pen, was “Matias and Miriam Morgan -- Sunset Plaza, 1969″

“Do you know why I called you in here, Matti?”

The young child stood in the middle of the room, trying to make themselves as small as possible, their head bent forward and their hands balled at their sides. They didn’t respond. The woman, sitting across from them at the end of her bed, sighed before reaching behind her and pulling out a photo frame. The green frame was cracked, split at the side and sticking out at an odd angle. Whatever broken glass there had been was cleared out and thrown away, leaving only a faded photo underneath. She held it up to show them.

“I found this stuffed beneath the couch, instead of on the mantle where it belongs. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The child once again did not respond. She waited a terse few moments.

“Matti, you can’t keep secrets from me. Come on, out with it.”

“...I was just playing,” they finally muttered, scuffing their shoe against the carpet.

“I see. And you thought if no one found out what you did, you wouldn’t get in trouble?”

No response. Finally, the woman’s stern demeanor softened as she shook her head and sighed. “You can’t just hide your problems and expect them to go away. When these things happen, you have to come to me, okay? I promise, you won’t get in trouble, as long as you’re open and honest with me. No matter how much you try to hide it, you’ll always get caught. Do you understand?”

They nodded. “I’m sorry, Bubbe.”

The woman smiled, her eyes crinkling as she did so. “I know, dear. It’s alright.” With that, she looked down, pulling the broken frame into her lap. Carefully unlatching the back, she let the photo slide out while putting the frame to the side. Next to her, the child climbed up on the bed, going to sit on the other side of her.

“Can I fix it?” They asked

She chuckled and shook her head. “Oh no, but that’s okay. I’ll just buy a new frame.”

“Whose that?” They asked, pointing to the couple standing in the foreground of the photo.

“Why, that’s me and your Zaide.”

“That’s YOU?”

“What, you don’t recognize me?” She laughed. “I suppose I was a lot younger back then. Yep, that’s me alright, before your Mother was born. We lived in California, all the way on the other side of the country. Your Zaide was working in his office and I was working at a hair salon outside of town. Oh, but I wanted to open up my own salon in town so badly...this is where I planned on opening it,” she said, pointing to one of the buildings in the background. “The boutique that used to be there closed and they’d just put up the “For Rent” sign, when, well-- we had to move, and then Mia was born...” Her voice trailed off, fingers gingerly brushing over the photo. As the silence drew on, the child reached out and placed their tiny hand over hers, pulling her out of her trance. She looked down at them and smiled.

“But it’s all alright, because now I can be a beautician for my wonderful family. Speaking of, you could use a trim,” she said, bouncing some of their curls off her fingers. “I swear, you inherited your Zaide’s hair. Honestly, you’d just be better off wearing wigs. But come on, let’s see what we can do.“

Scooping them up in one arm and propping them against her hip, she brought them over to her vanity and placed them down before sliding the picture in the space where the mirror met the frame. As she started to gather her materials and tools, the child kicked their feet, staring at the photo with interest. The woman followed their gaze to the photo and her expression softened again, though this time there was a forlornness to it.

“You know, I really thought we were going to live there forever...” Her wistful voice trailed off as she reached out to grab the scissors. The child looked up at her in the mirror, tilting their head questioningly.

“What happened, Bubbe?”

The woman put one hand on the side of their head, tilting it back into place. “The same thing that always happens, Matti,” she said, taking the scissors to their fiery red hair and beginning to cut. “Things change.”

Morgan slid the gathered photos in with the rest in the manila folder, which they lowered to their lap. When they looked up, they realized they were facing Main Street, the end of which led to Town Hall and the main plaza. Lining the streets were countless businesses, many of which Morgan had frequented in the years they’d become acquainted with this small town. There was one though, that caught their eye.

It was an old, brick building with a large, dark window. The venue itself seemed to be completely empty, with a padlock on the door. Plastered on the glass was a large “For Rent” sign.

Morgan stared. They couldn’t...could they? They’d never finished beauty school, let alone knew the first thing about how to run a small business. Then again, they hadn’t known the first thing about being a professor either. They hadn’t known the first thing about being a drag queen, once upon a time.

They reached into their pocket and took out their phone, saving the number that was listed on the sign. Beauty school could be finished. Business management could be researched. Just like they’d learned to apply eyeliner and style wigs, they could learn the things they needed in order to fulfill their Bubbe’s dream. The dream she had abandoned in order to take care of her family. The family who one by one--including themselves--had let her down.

It was a direction in their life that they never could have predicted. Then again, their life’s journey had taken a lot of sharp turns that they didn’t expect. Every time, however, they adapted. They survived.

Things change. But this time, Morgan was ready for it.

#drabble #slur tw #abuse tw

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gustafsnightangel · 3 years ago

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Shattered Lives Ch 40 Pt 1

Sildie woke refreshed, even if miss Lily was screaming her head off feeling anything but. “I’ll get her.” She chuckled as Gustaf went to move her off him to do exactly that.

“You sure?” He mumbled. She loved that half asleep voice, the crumpled look on his face that told her he’d slept and slept hard.

“I’m sure sleepy head.” Her kiss was sinful.

“Someone had a good night.” She heard the smirk in his voice and giggled.

“Yeah some guy fucked my brains out, he wasn’t bad.” His expression made her laugh as she threw her robe on. “You’re better.” She grinned and kissed him chastely.

“I should hope so.” He growled indignantly. “Otherwise I’d have to prove otherwise kitten.”

“Promise?” She teased, her lips brushing against his.

“Absolutely.” His grin was wicked before he devoured her mouth.

“Goodie.” She kissed him again before she sashayed away to rescue Lily from her wet diaper, the groan and thump of something heavy hitting the bed confirming he’d face planted into the pillow.

“You kill me love.” He called after her. “All those salacious curves.”

She changed and dressed Lily for the day, roused the boys and had them start to pack while she made breakfast, Brendan offered to supervise and she knew he was still a little shaken from yesterday. When she asked him about it he said that he and Gustaf had talked. Her man never ceased to amaze her, the way he just took care of things, explained things to the boys so they understood without freaking out.

Coming into the kitchen there he was, sweats slung low on his hips, those lower back dimples she adored in full view, simple white cotton tee, so normal yet so fucking sexy.

“Tea is steeping.” He said quietly as Lily squealed a dad dad and lunged for him. “And good morning to you too little lady.” He chuckled as Sildie handed her over, not that Lily gave her much of a choice in the matter.

So normal, she thought, and Ana doesn’t get to destroy this, she doesn’t get to take this from him, from us, she’s not worth it. She had to try harder for Gustaf, to not let her anxiety spiral as quickly as it did yesterday, he was trying, and she needed to do the same. Together, together they were stronger.

“That’s a lot of thinking going on in there.” He said gently, tapping her temple and kissing her, catching her unawares.

“Sorry.” She shook her head as if to clear the thought physically.

“You ok?” He asked, brow creasing in concern.

“Yeah, just reiterating to myself that she doesn’t get to destroy this and she’s not worth the effort of getting as upset as I did.” She shrugged. He left the pancake batter for the moment and crossed to her, pulling her in for a hug.

“No she doesn’t.” He toyed with the wisps of hair that hung at her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too and I’m so ready to eat, get packed up, and get in the car and go.” She kissed him sweetly and he smiled, she was putting it behind them where it belonged. “Just a blip. I freaked out yesterday, but she’s just a blip and we need to move past it.”

“Just a blip.” He murmured and kissed her, that longing making her go weak at the knees.

“Or you could just kiss me like that again.” She sighed, his chuckle making her smile when he did exactly that.

“Anything for you my love.” He grinned devouring her mouth a third time. He smooched Lily after she made a fuss until she crumpled against him giggling. “And you too Lily bear.” Turning back to the pancake batter Lily helped stir in the milk while Sildie poured the tea.

She took over cooking the pancakes as Lily was determined dad dad was her go to person of the morning and would not be denied cuddles and kisses and the mans undivided attention. “I’ll go and start packing for this monster.” He said softly and kissed the back of her neck causing her to shiver.

“Sounds good.” They were becoming a team she realized, still a little disjointed, but better than it had been when they lived in separate apartments. As she fussed around the kitchen making breakfast she smiled at the noise from the boys rooms, happy, excited noise. No tears, no sadness, no grief, just three boys that were finally having a childhood and making some memories.

Her phone pinged with an incoming text and she held her breath as she opened it. Leon.

Some good news for you at last, they remanded her in custody, no bail. Trial is set for February 16. She’ll be cooling her jets in a cell for a few weeks. The judge was not amused.

She let out an explosive breath and grinned. Some justice at long last. But she knew what the judge wasn’t amused by, the potential to walk on a deal.

Thanks for the update Leon. We’re out of town for the next ten days. Let’s touch base when I’m back to work?

Sounds good. I’ll copy Lindstrom, make sure you contact him when you get back into town. This will undoubtedly pull you and Lucas into it, maybe Gustaf.

Absolutely. I’ll be emailing him here in a moment regardless. We are prepared for whatever comes.

Sounds good. Have a great break, god knows you deserve it.

Count on it. Thanks again, for everything.

She owed Leon more than he realized. The fact he’s found her charm was just the start.

“Why the grin that clearly says you’re the cat who ate the canary and got all her Christmases at once?” Gustaf chuckled as he came in a little while later with Lily chattering in his arms and her bag.

She turned her screen around and showed him the messages from Leon and watched a grin spread across his face.

“I’m not one to bask in another’s misfortune.” He said. “But, it’s about fucking time something went right for us.”

“It’s only just beginning love, but this is a damn good start.” She kissed him fiercely.

“A long road ahead huh.” It wasn’t a question, because he knew damn well this was just the start of the shit storm that was brewing.

“I guess we’ll see. I’m not celebrating just yet.” She said chewing on her lip, brain going a mile a minute.

“Fair point.” He kissed her tenderly, the action freeing her lip and pulling her thoughts away from their destination of work. “Let it go now love.” The pleading look in his eyes had her drop all those toxic thoughts in a heartbeat. “We both need to let it go for now.” He smiled at her nod.

“You’re right. Letting it go. We have snowball fights to organize, marshmallows to toast, giggles and smiles to enjoy.” She said blowing out a breath and grinned.

“Amongst other things.” The goofy wiggle of his eyebrows had her chuckling.

Once breakfast was ready they sat as a family around the table, eating and laughing, throwing around ideas and what activities they were going to do at the cabin. With full bellies the kids helped Gustaf pack the car while Sildie packed her own clothes, got an email off to Lindstrom, and sorted the snacks. Car packed, children buckled in, Gustaf looked over the top of the car at her and let out a breath. “We got everything?” He grinned, it had been a flurry of non stop activity all morning.

“Kids, clothes, food, and most importantly, you sweet man. It’ll have to be everything or we’re never going to get out of here.” She snorted.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” He was almost bouncing with excitement to get going like the big kid at heart he was. She loved seeing this side of him carefree and happy.

They were finally in the car and on their way before she noticed it hanging from the rear view mirror. The ribbon still stained with red paint, the charm needing a good clean and a little worse for wear, but it was there, where it belonged. He hadn’t gone out and replaced it just to make her happy. He’d found a way to find it, to right the wrong of another human. To maintain a piece of her brother, a man he never knew. She reached up a hand to brush a finger over it and looked at him, her eyes welling with tears of gratitude. He got it, he got her, and what she needed, what that one little gesture meant to her and the kids.

His quick glance at her before snagging her hand and kissing her fingers had her smile through the tears. That smile was all the thanks he needed before he lightly held onto her hand as he drove. The grief was there but she seemed more at ease with it now. Allowing it to surface and be there but not overwhelm her or send her spiraling into despair.

A few hours later they arrived, his best girls fast asleep, the twins quietly chatting, Brendan with his nose in a book. He felt the stress leave him as the boys climbed out of the car, all the anger and frustration from the past week melting off him. He sighed, the snowy landscape in front of him consuming every ounce of stress and bitterness. It had only been a week yet it felt like a year. “Brendan can you get the twins inside? Maybe choose your rooms and then come grab the bags?”

“Sure.” The teen rounded up his brothers and they headed inside to explore.

“Don’t wander too far.” He called.

“We won’t.” The three of them answered.

“Masters of mischief.” He mumbled as he rounded the front of the car grinning. “They’ll be in the snow hurling it at each other in minutes.” He chuckled. It reminded him of Alex, Sam, and Bill when they were kids, always getting into something they weren’t supposed to.

Opening the the passenger door he crouched down and grazed his knuckles along Sildie’s cheek, her sharp inhale as she woke telling him she had been out cold.

“I’m up.” She mumbled.

“You crashed.” He chuckled. “Must be the mountain air.” She could hear the humor in his voice.

“Must be, or it was the mind blowing sex I had last night.” She said softly, that face she thought, they broke the mold when they made him. Eyes of ocean blue and a sinful poets mouth.

“I wear you out kitten?” He growled, that tone he knew made her wet.

“Not complaining.” She snorted.

“The boys are exploring the cabin.” He said seeing the question on her face at the quiet in the car. “I was about to get Lily out and then get the boys to help start hauling everything in.”

“I’ll get Lily, take her in.” She said as he stood and opened the back door.

“I’ll go and see what mischief the boys have found then. It’s way too quiet in there.” He chuckled, kissing her cheek quickly before going to hunt down the boys.

The kids had found mischief, already outside having a snowball fight which was why the cabin was so quiet. Rounding them up, all smiles and giggles, they helped Gustaf unpack the car while Sildie took Lily inside and put her down for the rest of her nap.

As it was well past lunch time Sildie started to prepare an early dinner as Gustaf took the kids exploring in and around the cabin, finding out where everything was and what the place had to offer. By the time they sat and ate the twins were already planning their day tomorrow.

“How about we each choose an activity for the day and all do it together?” She said watching them closely, half expecting the boys to balk at the idea of doing something she might want to do. She wanted them to do things as a family as much as possible this trip. Solidifying the bond between Gustaf and the boys was crucial, and for that, they needed time together. To talk, to fight, to laugh, to just do boy things with a man that wanted to be a father to them in every way possible.

“I like that.” Brendan said eating his sandwich. “We could write activities down on bits of paper and then choose them at random?” He shrugged.

“I like that idea even better.” Gustaf grinned. “Two activities each, and that’s what we can spend the day doing, or a few hours depending on how we all feel.”

“Whatever we want?” Liam grinned.

“Whatever you want.” Gustaf knew exactly where his devious little mind was going.

“You may regret that decision later.” Sildie muttered and smirked at him over the top of her teacup.

“Quite possibly.” Gustaf snickered as he sipped his tea, the boys just grinned at him. Oh he was in so much trouble, he thought. He was expecting them to gang up on him and had to remember to wear a base layer and turtleneck, to stop the snow going down the back of his neck, because he knew that one was coming. Once he’d finished eating, Gustaf found a pens and paper and had the boys write their two activities down. They scrunched each one into a little ball and tossed it in a salad bowl Sildie had found in the cupboard.

“Ok, let me grab Lily and then we each draw two out of the bowl.” Sildie said as she went to collect Lily, the little lady starting to make a fuss. The boys were giggling when she came back in the room. “What are you up to?” She asked knowing something was afoot, the wink from Gustaf asking her to just play along.

“Alright, youngest to oldest, Finn you’re up.” Gustaf said as Sildie fixed Lily a bottle, the tiny child snuggled in close to her mum mum.

“I got, hiking.” He said and put it on the table as Gustaf wrote it down, that would be a good one for tomorrow while the weather was still nice, he thought.

“Snowboarding.” Liam said excitedly. “That was one of mine.” His grin was wide.

“Well we’ll all get to have a go now.” Gustaf chuckled.

“Build a snow family.” Brendan laughed and Sildie smirked, that was one of hers.

“You’re up love.” Gustaf said.

“No, you are. I’m older than you.” Her chuckle playful.

“Snow fort.” He said looking at her, that desire for her flooding through him.

Her hand dipped into the bowl. “Snowball fight.” She said. “Well that was a given.” She added with a snort. “Go again Finn.”

“What about Lily?” He said quietly.

“I think Lily will be happy with whatever we’re all doing love.” She said gently. “Maybe we can have a Lily safe snowball fight like we did before.” He smiled and nodded, face lighting up.

“Snowball fight.” He giggled holding it up. Liam’s hand dived in to reveal another snowball fight as did Brendan and Gustaf.

“I think I’ve been played.” She muttered with a huge smile on her face as she pulled out another snowball fight.

“A little.” Gustaf’s wink make her laugh, that laugh he adored as he wrote them down in order that they came out of the bowl. “The weather should be nice tomorrow for a hike.”

“What should we pack for lunch?” Sildie asked.

“Picnic.” Liam said bouncing in his seat. “With cookies.”

“With cookies.” Gustaf chuckled. “Can’t forget the cookies.” She loved that smile, the one that said I don’t have a care in the world except for the people in this room. He was relaxing already, the stress and anxiety starting to melt away. Those crows feet she had a weakness for out in full bloom.

“Keykey.” Lily squealed as she reached for Gustaf.

“Yes little lady, lots of cookies.” He plucked her off Sildie’s lap and kissed her until she giggled, his scruff tickling her, tiny hands tapping his face.

They spent the late afternoon settling in, just taking time to relax and unwind. Bathed and in pajamas, the twins had their heads together formulating a plan for the epic snowball fight. Brendan had curled up on the couch with a book, and Gustaf did the same in the one seat with Lily in his lap happily snuggled in chattering and playing with her toys, Gustaf reading to her quietly. Sildie had slipped away to soak in the tub, a time to unwind, to start her vacation off right. She could hear him reading and the tone of his voice soothed her. “I could listen to him talk all night.” She sighed, sinking up to her neck in hot water. There was something about his voice that always set her mind at ease and calmed the raging storm of her thoughts and emotions. This was a different tone to the one he used in the bedroom, but both equally arousing in their own way.

She cleared her mind, let all the events of the past week come to the surface, acknowledged the way they made her feel and let them go. Sent them out into the ether for the universe to take care of. It was her own form of meditation, one she’d let slide since her brother died and she needed to get back in the habit of letting shit go. As her mind cleared from all the anxiety and stress, she thought to the future, their future. About making partner and what that would mean for her, for them as a family. With Gustaf’s help she knew she’d be able to handle it, even if in the beginning it would be a learning curve. “I can do it though, with him beside me I can do it.” She knew she could do it without him, but with him would be so much easier. She would hopefully make partner and get her career back on track.

Gustaf had saved them from spiraling out of control, from drowning in grief and despair, and in turn they had saved each other. It was time to put the grief aside and live life, she decided. She couldn’t allow it to consume her as it had over the past year. This was a new year, a time for new beginnings, a time to become a family and figure out their future together. “No more wallowing in your own self pity, they’re all grieving. But it’s time to move forward.” She muttered. “There’s a life to start living, with a beautiful sweet man in it.” She smiled at that thought, her man, their family, a future together. “Mine.” She said softly. “He’s mine.” Her throat choked up with emotion. “Only mine.”

Gustaf looked around the living room. A happy Lily curled up with him playing and talking in her own way quite content, Brendan with his nose in a book, the twins formulating their attack strategy for the snowball fight. Normal, no grief in sight, and genuinely happy. Sure, he knew it was there just below the surface, but they were healing, the sorrow not as all consuming as it was when he’d rescued a few wayward oranges at their door. They would continue to grieve, he just hoped he’d made it easier for them to process and to think about a future where it didn’t rule their lives. “One step at a time huh Lily bear?” He muttered quietly. “Slow and steady.” The tiny girl snuggled into him, the affection and unconditional love she gave melting his heart.

He let his mind wander to Sildie, their future, as a family, as a couple. Marriage kept springing to the forefront of his mind. He never thought he’d contemplate marriage again after Hanna, but with Sildie it was different. He was different. Would she want to get married? Could he be the husband she deserved? He wanted it like his next breath, to give himself to her completely, commit himself to her, to the kids. He glanced at the three boys, what would they think about it, he wondered? “Maybe I’ll have to ask them.” He mumbled against Lily’s temple, kissing her softly. “I already know where you stand on the matter young lady.” He chuckled and Lily squealed a dad dad as Gustaf’s scruff tickled her cheek as he kissed the little girl.

Maybe kids of their own, he thought. He wanted kids with her, no question about it. “That’s her choice though isn’t it little lady?” He kissed Lily’s head. “Her body, her choice. And she already told me where she stood on the matter in the very beginning.” He mumbled. “It would be nice for you to have a playmate though, huh? A little Sildie to cuddle.” He grinned against the child’s hair as he imagined a child with Sildie’s copper hair and ice blue eyes. “Or a little Gustaf you can boss around.” His soft chuckle made him grin wider. “I’m such a sap.” He whispered and Lily hugged him right. “I want everything with her Lily, absolutely everything.”

“Mum mum, dad, dad, dad.” She chattered softly.

“Exactly.” He kissed her head and went back to reading, oddly feeling more relaxed about it after chatting with his pint sized shrink.

Sildie pulled herself out of the tub and dressed in her pajamas. She felt loose and relaxed, much like she’d soaked all the stress off her body and let it swirl down the drain. Her mind had finally quietened, her thoughts drifting along now instead of zooming a mile a minute like they had been.

Padding out to the living room she smiled at the scene, such serenity, it choked her up. She started to make some hot chocolate from scratch, the one she usually saved for Christmas or special occasions. To her this was a special occasion, their first vacation together, the calmness that had settled over all of them was something to be acknowledged. “Who’s up for toasting some marshmallows?” She said softly and instantly had three boys at her side, the fourth standing behind her, Lily in his arms, a hand circling her hips. “You guys will need to find some toasting forks or skewers.” She chuckled as they raced off to do exactly that as Gustaf kissed the nape of her neck.

“You smell nice.” He purred, tongue teasing the dip at her collarbone.

“I’m all warm and soft too.” She murmured, her hand reaching back to rest against his thigh pulling him closer, the nuzzle against her neck making her weak at the knees. Her man knew exactly how to turn her entire system to goo.

The boys bounded back in, Brendan holding up some toasting forks he’d found in the mud room closet, those grins wide. It had been a long time since she’d seen them this happy, saw those smiles bloom in genuine joy not just putting on a brave face.

“Lily and I will stoke the fire, we need embers to toast marshmallows properly.” He kissed her quickly before heading over to the open fireplace.

Once the fire was happily crackling in the hearth they all sat around it as if it were an outdoor campfire. The six of them in pj’s or sweats, hot chocolate with an abundance of cream and marshmallow, and giggles, lots of giggles as they talked about snow forts and snowball fights. Gustaf telling stories of his childhood and the mischief him and his brothers got up to.

“Don’t give them ideas.” Sildie scolded, and he grinned at her. A boys childhood was nothing without mischief.

Sildie reminisced about her and Quinn as kids with their parents, much happier times, and good memories for the boys to have. She found it didn’t destroy her as much, sure it still gave her that ache in the chest, that longing to have them here, but she didn’t spiral. That’s what she needed to hold onto, those good happy memories, and she need to share them with the boys, with Gustaf. This was the way she needed to help them heal.

As the fire died down to embers they toasted their marshmallows.

“Nothing like the crispy outside, and a gooey inside.” Gustaf said as he blew on a little bit of marshmallow for Lily to taste. They’d all be on a sugar high for the next little while which was fine, they were on vacation, the everyday rules didn’t apply. He kicked back, Lily clinging to him as he read Harry while they finished the marshmallows and had another round of hot chocolate.

At nearly ten, Lily was asleep in Gustaf’s arms, and the twins were almost asleep curled up with Sildie as they listened to the story. “Time for bed I think.” Gustaf said gently as he watched Finn stifle another yawn at the end of the chapter.

“I think so too. Hiking tomorrow and a picnic.” She stood and helped the boys to their feet following them to the rooms they’d chosen to sleep in. Finn broke away from Sildie and rushed back to hug Gustaf tightly, Lily barely stirred.

“Love you dad.” He said quietly and Gustaf felt his throat tighten, it sucker punched him every time.

“Love you too. Get some sleep.” He watched Finn go and let out a careful breath. “I doubt I’m ever going to get used to hearing that.” He muttered to Lily as he got to his feet and carried her to bed.

With the boys settled and Gustaf dealing with Lily, Sildie set her phone to play some slow jazz in their room as she stared out the window into the night. This was the peace she craved for them and hoped one day soon they’d feel it in their own home. She heard him close the door, his soft steps to her before those arms wrapped her up, his scent equally comforting. Turning she swayed, his hands fitting her against him just right.

“I love dancing with you.” He said softly. “It was like we were made for it, you fit just right.” He kissed her temple and lingered, her scent filling his mind. Home, love, peace.

“I love it too. Just this, nothing fancy, just you and me and some good music. It’s perfect.” She said softly and rested her head against his shoulder, her thoughts drifting nowhere in particular.

“The only thing that would make it better would to be naked.” He said a while later, the soft growl making her chuckle.

“Then you’d better take care of that then.” She teased.

Gentle fingers aroused as they peeled the sweats and pajamas from each other. Both naked, he danced her around the room, slow and soothing until she was almost asleep on her feet.

“Into bed love.” He said tenderly and kissed her brow before helping her in. She snuggled in and kissed him, love and need pouring from her. Rolling, he pressed her into the mattress, the feel of those lush curves against him making him harden. “I can never get enough of you.” He murmured. “My goddess.” Her legs wrapped around his slim hips and she drew him closer, an invitation to slip inside. To claim each other. With a gentle thrust he buried himself to his hilt in her wet heat their mutual groans mixing with the jazz.

Her hands roamed that well honed body, all the dips and valleys that made him irresistible as his hips flexed, cock filling her. He made love to her, the gentle push and pull as their bodies intertwined and danced together. She came with a soft sigh, her release rolling over her taking the last of the stress from her body. He joined her in pleasure a moment later when he came with her name on his lips. Curling her in to him, she went lax in his arms. “Sleep love.” His smile wide.

“Gustaf?” She mumbled, hovering on the edge of sleep.

“Mmmm?”

“I’m so in love with you.” She slurred.

“You’re my everything Sildie, sleep now.” He switched the music off and let the silence of the cabin soothe him to sleep, peace at long last.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

#gustaf skarsgard #shattered lives #gustaf skarsgard fanfiction

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marshmallowprotection · 5 years ago

Text

“I thought a lot on my way over here to see you. Whether you’ll embrace me and proceed with the ceremony or… I really want you to proceed with the ceremony. But it just feels like that isn’t what you want to do. And? I keep finding myself thinking about horrible things…”

Ray stood in front of her with a heavy heart and his expression was a little different this night. He came in the room with a frown on his face and yet, there was a spark in his eyes that remained ever hopeful that something would change or be alright for the very first time.

He reached out and pressed his hands into her own as he tried to get a feel for her again.

Lila stared up at Ray, uncertain. She had been doing her best to play his game and she had been working hard. There was just something odd about the AI. There wasn't something that meshed well with how she was feeling.

They just felt… too real.

It was uncomfortable.

Ray was real, Ray was tangible. She could hold his hands and she could feel him where she couldn't with the AI. She knew he was real, but she couldn't shake that twisting feeling in her gut. It happened every time she spoke with any of the RFA and when they started to second guess everything she was saying, she got scared.

She would politely excuse herself and pray.

Ray looked so very concerned. With one hand pressed her forehead he tried to check to see if she had a fever or something of the sort. “Lila, you don’t look so good. You’re not sick, are you? Should I get a doctor for you? Were you putting off playing the game because you don’t feel well? Is that it?”

She continued to watch him as he looked at her, trying her read her every expression as it appeared. "The RFA… they don't like me, Ray. I keep trying to play the game but they just won't let me breathe. I feel like I'm cornered every time I mess up."

Ray frowned. “Are they too stupid? Did they hurt your feelings? Do they make you feel horrible? I can't stand the thought of you feeling miserable. I know they are terrible, Lila, I know. But you promised you would help me test my game and it hurts that you aren't trying.”

"I want to help you, Ray…"

His grip on her hand tightened.

“I tried as much as I could to make something fun for you… but I see that it just wasn’t good enough now,” His chest was wracked with sobs as soon as he managed to speak again. Ray's eyes began to overflow with tears that he had tried to hold back. “I should have worked two more hours back then instead of sleeping back then. Was I not good enough again? Did I fail again?”

She didn't want that.

She hated when he felt awful.

Why didn't she try harder to stomach the strange feelings?

Lila shook her head, back and forth. "No, Ray. No. That's not it."

Lila watched as his eyes darkened. She hasn't seen this look in his green eyes before, no, this was something entirely new to her.

This was Ray… but something had changed in him.

His gaze shifted from side to side before he looked back at her with narrowed eyes. He seemed to be thinking of an answer to his questions that he hadn't quite yet found.

He nodded his head, humming. “Or… or was it those AI? Have they ruined this? Have they ruined your feelings because they hurt you? You’re not answering me. So, they must be the problem. I knew that they weren’t good enough. I didn’t think that they would be horrible enough to displease you like this. I knew it. I should have made them better from the start."

Lila shook her head, she opened her mouth to try and dispute that claim. It was not the fault of any specific person. She wasn't going to blame anyone. She was the one who hadn't put in all the effort as she should have done.

She thought that she was doing alright.

She thought very well that whatever was going to come next would certainly be alright as long as Ray was nearby and at her side. She had grown so very fond of him and she thought that he felt the same.

Why was he speaking as though something grave had happened?

"Tell me, Lila, which one is the problem?" he urged, as if that was the cure to fix all of this. "Tell me, please."

“Jumin? No, he would be too busy worried about V. Then was it Zen? Surely he must have annoyed you with how much he shows off. I think that could be it. Or maybe it was Yoosung if it’s not Zen. The only word in his vocabulary is Rika and I’m sure that all of his whinings would have made you want to scream, right? Now that I really think about it, the whole lot of AI is rubbish. Not to forget, Jaehee and V keep suspecting you too.” Ray listed them all, noting each and every flaw that he had told her about in the past.

Sure, they had their quirks and they weren't exactly perfect but that's what made them feel so real and alive. They had these real feelings and faults. Every instance felt as if it was genuine to them. Sure, she felt awful when they said things to her that made her feel like an outsider.

Comparing her to Rika…

Speaking as if they couldn't trust her…

The game was made in such a way that they had to be wary, right?

Ray's tone became bitter all of a sudden, as he hissed the worst of them all. “Worst of all, that redhead keeps going on and on about how he was the one that made this game… wait a minute. Did you play the version that he made? Did you, Lila? Is that why you aren’t playing my game? You’re playing his instead? You wouldn’t, would you? Lila, there’s no way that you played his version. Mine is much more fun than his. It’s completely different than his trash!”

His green eyes were wild with rage and he steamed like a hot kettle. His hands were on her shoulders and they dug into the fabric so hard that she could feel it against her collar bones. His breathing had quickened, and he seemed desperate.

What happened to him?

Why was he speaking as though Seven was a real person? Seven wasn't real. He was just a character. Just like the rest of the RFA, right?

“Ray, I don’t understand. What do you mean his version? Seven isn’t a real person… how could he have his own…”

Ray wasn't listening to a word that she was saying to him now. He just steamrolled right through her words and kept talking in a low voice. “Lila… you played his version, didn’t you? Please tell me you didn’t. If you even think that he’s better than me because of it… what am I supposed to do now? Agh! I feel like my head is going to explode right now. Lila, please think about it again. There’s no way that he’s better than me… there is no way that I’m no better than him…!”

Lila reached up with her trembling fingers and pressed them against his forearms as she tried to regain control of his attention away from whatever he was feeling.

He wouldn't budge and he wouldn't listen.

"Ray, please…"

“I’ve been inspecting everything. All the logs. Every conversation. Every call. There is no record that exists of his version in my game… unless… unless he used… the other route at some point." He mused, aloud, and then suddenly he blinked as if something had just occurred to him.

"Lila, you’re not thinking of meeting him behind my back, are you? You weren’t actually away from Magenta to see him, were you…? You know that I hate him. There’s no way you were seeing him… you know how I feel…” the tears still escaped from the corner of his eyes, although he didn't wipe them away.

Every time he spot of Seven he would become angry and despondent. She never brought him up. She didn't mind that. She had trouble with people with a lot of energy like that, but he hated him. He hated this one character so much.

Why?

His fingers shook against her as he began to sound desperate. “Did I annoy you by any chance…? Were you annoyed with me? Or were you lonely because I didn’t drop by more? Was it something that I did? Something I didn't do? Why? Just why? I want to know why you chose him, not me…”

Lila was starting to feel pretty damn hysterical. Her heart rate had quickened, and she should think about was trying to fix this mess. “Ray, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What are you saying? You’re talking as if Seven is a real person. He’s just a character in the game… You know that I like you more than some character! You're real, I'm real. He isn't!”

That wasn't the answer he wanted.

Ray looked away. “...Are you avoiding the answer, too? Do you think so little of me that you can't bear to break my heart? I’m so sad. My heart is tearing into pieces. I… I’m actually not as good as he is. I tried extra hard. So now I’m supposed to be a better hacker than he is… but is this just not good enough…? What was the problem? Is it impossible to hide my faults no matter how hard I try? I was so happy you came here. I thought that all I had to do from now on is to be happy."

"Ray, I am happy-!" She stumbled over the words as she tried to say them so it came out a little jumbled and disjointed. "I love being with you- I don't understand what's wrong, did something happen? I've never said anything like that!"

“I didn’t think I’d be so sad like this. I thought I’d be able to make you happy without a doubt… I really tried so hard. I thought you’d tell me that I’m better than him, that I’ve always been better than him… I’m so… so sad… it feels like the world is caving in." Ray closes his eyes for a brief moment as he sucks in a breath of air before looking into Lila's brown eyes.

"Lila, you aren’t going to leave this place, are you? Are you going to leave me to join them?” he asked, nearly on the verge of losing his cool again.

“Ray… I am not going to leave you!" Lila breathed, it was shallow and it was sharp against her lips. She had told him, she had said that she wanted to stay! "I never was going to leave you- I-"

Ray pulled her in close for a hug and he held onto her so tightly that she thought may break into pieces as he clung to her. “Please don’t go, Lila. If you leave me… if you’re gone… I’ll never be able to get back onto my feet. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you in my life. You have no idea how much this hurts… I was determined to keep you from agony… sorrow… all the pain of this world… but I was wrong. Those AI got to you and twisted you up."

His voice was low in her ear as his heart rate began to swell. He lamented with a very heavy heart, “What am I supposed to do?”

Lila isn't sure what to tell him.

Is he asking her? Or himself?

That's when Ray pulls away from her and allows her to meet his gaze.

His green eyes are absolutely glowing in the dimly lit room, and as he cocks his head, he thinks he has found a resolution. Ray's tears have all but dried up now. “What should I do… to keep you from leaving me? Would you understand me if you were as sad as I am? The Savior once told me… that you can never feel happiness and joy unless you have first felt what sorrow and agony are like. I tried so hard. Why does everything always turn out like this?”

Lila is… she's shaking where she's standing for some reason. It feels as though that something has changed in her Ray and this boy in front of her has simply shifted for reasons she can't identity. She can't look away from him. For as nervous and as scared as she is-

She's charmed by his haunting gaze.

Lila shivers as he hand rubs against her cheek in a delicate motion. His words betray what he is saying. “I’d hate to hurt you… but if that’s what is necessary for our sake. I’ll take it. I’ll consider it necessary for you and me.”

Lila's eyes widened. She goes to take a step back but she cannot. What does he mean by that and is it what it sounds like? Did he really just say that he would hurt her if he had to do it?

He's watching as her lips part into a small "o" shape, and the very way she tries to instinctual protect herself. She's got a hold onto his hand again but it is very loose, and it may fall at any moment.

Lila looks at him, voice quiet. “Ray…? What are you trying to do to me?”

What was he going to do?

What was he going to do with her now?

His gentle touch never waves. He cups her hand in both of his hands and forces her to look at him and only him. Ray seems suddenly enthralled by the desperation that flashes in her eyes. “...Are you expecting something? You look like you’re afraid… but also like you’re excited for something. I hope you’re excited. I’ve been working on this for a long time… You know, Lila, the moment that I started talking to you, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I wanted you to be my assistant if I could have one someday. But those AI… they ruined everything… they ruined you. I can fix this if you trust me."

She closed her eyes but his voice is still ringing in her ears.

This is no nightmare.

This is really happening.

Ray's gentle voice sounds so chilling. Chills run down her spine as he coaxes her to look at him once again, “I’ll correct everything one by one, starting with them. They'll never confuse you again as long as I'm with you, and then I’ll teach you the sorrow I’ve ever felt. Once you know that Then you can understand me…understand you... understand us… we're so very alike you and I. I only want you to depend upon me and me alone… I can help you, Lila. Please, trust in me to do what's best for you. You listened to me when nobody else would… I want to share paradise with you."

Her heart was beating loud in her ears.

What was she to do? She cared about Ray, she wanted to be with Ray, but what he wanted at this moment… what did he want to do with her?

She couldn't just leave.

She had no choice.

“We can start the test all over again, that's not a problem. Let those AI hang out amongst themselves for a while, and you’ll stay with me. We’ll complete your eternal contract once you finally come to understand me, and our love. Then, we can start the game again.”

When she opened her eyes, all she saw in Ray's once bright eyes was inevitable salvation.

“My beloved, Lila. I will save you from the darkness.”

#lila x ray #ray x lila #lila lancelot oc #mystic messneger cmc #mysme cmc #cmc #original character #original female character #mystic messenger #mysticmess #mystic mess #mistake mess #mistake messenger #saeran choi #choi saeran #angst #bad ending #day 4

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ofphcenixes · 5 years ago

Text

( ooc note about why i am the absolute worst ! )

this is such a random note i know, and admittedly i’ve spent the entire day composing this. so if it’s a little disjointed or illogical, i want to apologise in advance ! however i have included this nice gif of luke - it doesn’t have anything to do with the post, just thought it would make it more appealing dkjfgdf. admittedly this is going to be a bit of a Long Boi™, but it is kinda.... relevant if you’ve ever tried to write/plot with me, or are wondering what’s going on with nate. behold, all your answers are below ! i’ll put a tldr at the bottom plus a nifty little vine compilation for anyone that reads this but, please don’t feel pressured to do so ! ya girl is just a Mess dkfjgd.

the first thing i want to address is the elephant in the room; nathaniel ballantyne. i know a lot of people are curious about his fate, his place in the plot drop, why he vanished so much earlier than everyone else. is he actually guilty ? is he a martyr ? is he a red herring ? well, here’s the tea on mr nathaniel ballantyne:

he is on indefinite hiatus.

a lot of people probably wonder why. i will get into the specifics of the why in a little bit (when i said this was a Long Boi i was not kidding lmfao), but basically... he’s a very difficult character to write. i am not a veteran rper, and in all honesty, i can count on my hands the amount of rps i’ve been in. and there are only 5 characters i’ve ever written about and cared enough to remember. one of those is nate. for those of you that know him, he is a strange and eccentric character. entirely up his own ass at times, pretentious as hell. but he, to me, was a character i grew attached to. he was different from people i normally write, and despite how abstract he was, he was.... realistic to me. my deep rooted attachment to him is why it took me so long to see how hard it was for me to write replies with him, to understand the guilt i felt any time i plotted or wrote with him, and the fact he was so mentally taxing it would take five times as much time to write a reply for him than it would any other character. but the sad truth is, even though i only felt guilt related to him, even though i haven’t had muse for him honestly for months now, i kept him. because i love him, even if he isn’t loved by many others. and so part of the reason he is now where he is is the simple fact that i know he didn’t mesh with the group, and that’s okay ! he was a very difficult character to reply to, and now that he is gone, i feel that burden of guilt lifting already.

as for his plot related departure, the truth is i didn’t have the heart to kill him off, hence why he kinda is just out there in a weird in between space dkjfgdf. and ( as i’ll explain below ) if my life ever does even out at any point, i really want to bring him back should there be space for him. so this indefinite hiatus was made for many reasons, and it absolutely broke my heart to have to get to this point. i love nate, and i am going to miss him. and i hope that in due time, i will have the capacity to bring him back soon ! but in case i don’t, i just want everyone to know that i appreciate every second i spent writing with you all on nate, and that the time and effort people poured into him means the world to me. and i’m so, so sorry to the people who are disappointed in me for this, because i know there are probably a few. i have let so many of you down, and honestly this is a burden i am going to carry for a very long time. i am going to message people tomorrow when i am more Coherent so, i promise to do my best to atone for this kgdf.

but to segue into that a little more ( oh look, another elephant in the room ! what is this, dumbo 2: electric boogaloo ), as an admin, i know there are expectations we are supposed to meet. examples we should set. precedents we have to lay down.

and i know i have disappointed every single one of you in this rp.

from my slow ( to non-existent ) dash activity, for the anxiety that has left me unable to reply to dms or reply in the main group chat, to even the fear of godmodding in ask memes on a thursday. i know this seems perfectly illogical to most, and again, i completely understand the disappointment that so many of you feel towards me. and it’s that very disappointment which djkgdf ironically has made it harder for me to get on and be the admin that you all deserve.

the real difficult thing about all of this is, i love veritas. and for those of you who were in veritas 1, would know that this is not who i usually am. this experience is not representative of the person i want to be, nor the rper that i usually present myself as. but as to avoid going into too triggering content and bothering you all with tmi details about my life problems lmfao, please rest assured that these past few months have been. absolutely brutal for me. from almost losing my opa to illness, from ongoing family issues and expectations, being kicked out of home among a list of other shit, my mental health has been as low as gfkdgdf it has ever been in my life tbh, and it’s been the hardest thing in the world to get on. all my attentions with veritas has been in the main, as the main is a very taxing job ( as you know, we are very plot centric ! ) and i would more often than not get so worn out with being an admin, my characters fell by the wayside. not to mention, as sort of dkfgjdf touched on before, i have massive anxiety when it comes to messaging people. why ? i don’t know. especially as i have wanted to plot with all of you extensively and deeply since we opened, and reading every single app made my heart beat a little faster with joy. i am so honoured to be an admin here, and each and every one of you are such an incredible writer and person that i can’t help but feel overwhelmed and guitlty about how much i have let you all down. especially for those who sent me dms that i either forgot about or never replied to because i got so anxious, i feel so guilty every day about it all and i just wish i could go back in time and change it.

and the reality is, if i wasn’t an admin and co-creator of this group, i probably would have dropped out a long time ago, give the space to someone worthy, and i wouldn’t be filled with so much guilt. but the truth is, i am a selfish person dgdgdf. veritas has been that sort of dkfgjdf good, steady thing in my life that i looked forward to, and i couldn’t bear the thought of losing that. each and every one of you create the fabric that is this amazing atmosphere, and even though i’m less seen and heard compared to most others in this group, being part of veritas gives me a sense of belonging. and in a strange sense, a home. yes, i know i was selfish, and yes, i should have handled things much better than i did. but you all need to know from the bottom of my heart how sorry i am for everything that has transpired. ):

but i think the worst part of it all is that, my beautiful co-admin maaria, and my best friend. among letting you all down, i know i have let her down the most. and i just want to take my soapbox moment for a second here and really put light into how much maaria has done for this group. especially when my own life has been in shambles, and knowing she’s going through her own problems, she always provides for you all. she is always here, always online, always around to make you laugh or smile. she provides for all of us, and is honestly a miracle worker. i don’t think i will ever deserve her forgiveness for everything, but i hope she knows how loved she is, and i hope you all show her your sentiments too ! she is the heart of veritas, and fdjg she means the world to me, and i just really want her to know that.

but that was. a lot of emotions and obviously i haven’t talked about everything in my life ( i do not want to bore you and honestly i don’t wanna make y’all sad dkfjghdkfjgdfgdf ) none of this really means anything if things aren’t going to change. so get ready for some Bullet Point Action because here is my proposal:

nEw SkElEtOn: although nate is on hiatus and sorta just gonna, float out there in the void of time, and even though i really want to bring him back soon i don’t know if/when i will, i have felt immense guilt for hoarding his spot in this rp for someone who could be more active. hence, a solution: a new skeleton ! as i am not comfortable with nate’s skeleton being open, we have created a new skeleton with connections to all nate’s old connections, which should hit the main very soon !

new discord: this is probably unnecessary but dfkgjdfg i have a lot of anxiety about discord. when i get a new message i’m always like ??? AAH A GHOST. idk why. and because of that, i skip a message once, and now there are so many unanswered messages i have a heart attack every time i open my app. so, to prevent that, i am going to make a new discord account ! ( lilacrps #i forgot the number lmao ). i will be adding everyone as Friends and if you’ve ever sent me something i never responded to, or for some odd reason you wanna talk to me, a human mess, please know now that with a fresh slate i will ensure i can reply to you. i am not gonna let my anxiety win this time.

schedule: part of my issue is that i dfkjgdf always felt pressure to do everything all the time and then when i couldn’t, i fell under pressure. so dkfgjdf i am now having designated plotting and reply days ! so even though i hope to be far more active in both regards, i just need people to understand things won’t be instant, but i am holding myself accountable not only for myself, but for the rp - as that is what an admin should do.

this got super long and i highly doubt anyone is actually gonna read this lmao BUT. the main point is - i love every single one of you all so much, and i can’t apologise enough for how much i have let you all down. i know we all feel it, and i’m more than happy to accept my flaws and how blatant they’ve been in the past few months. so this is my pledge to every single one of you that i promise to do better (and if i don’t, you can kick me out dkjfgdf).

TLDR: I have been a terrible admin and friend, and I’m here to say sorry. With a new discord and personal plotting schedule, things are going to change.

If I can’t cure my depression, maybe I can cure yours.

#( ooc ; i have the power of god and anime on my side ! )#tw: depression #tw: mental health

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neuxue · 6 years ago

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I was looking back at the TEotW live blog entries and I noticed the distinct shift in authorial quality from then to now, which made me curious as to what goes into creating a chapter of the live blog at this stage? You've evidently solidified your style over the years, and it would be nice to know how much effort goes into something we enjoy. Thank you for your work, and I promise Sanderson gets better at writing Mat.

Ha, yeah, I’m a little afraid to ever look at the early posts again because I’ll probably want to crawl under a rock and die of shame, but hopefully they’re at least entertaining…and hopefully the quality shift is in the right direction ;)

Short answer: nowadays, a liveblog chapter usually takes 4-8 hours to write, depending on the chapter’s length and content and how much I care, how I’m feeling that day, etc. To put this in context, when I first started the liveblog I made 2-3 posts per day, of 2-5 chapters each, and a post took me 1-2 hours.

The biggest challenge is therefore finding several hours during which I know I can sit down and do a full chapter. It’s easy enough to find an hour or two, but it’s a lot harder to find 6, and I hate having to split a chapter across several days because I never feel like I can get into it as well. This is mainly because I write while reading, so it feels disjointed if I can’t do it all in one sitting.

To answer your question more thoroughly…as you say, it’s been a case of writing my way into a style that works for me (YMMV, of course). I can’t recall specifically deciding to change anything; as far as I can tell it’s been a mostly gradual change (which adds up to quite a large change when looking at the endpoints). There are a few main contributing factors, which might give a better answer to the question of what goes into a liveblog post now, as opposed to just an amount of time.

Investment, engagement, and progress in the story. I simply didn’t have as much to say when I first started. I didn’t know anything about the world or the characters or the story yet, so while there was a lot to learn and begin piecing together early on, I wasn’t nearly as invested in it as I am now. I also didn’t have as much to draw from; if I were to reread TEotW now, I’m sure I would have far more to say, because a lot of the richness is a product of the story as a larger whole. The more context you have, the more important each individual piece will start to seem.And I care a lot more about the story and the characters now than I did when they were first introduced, so I want to look more closely and go deeper and challenge myself more.

What I get out of it / what I want to get out of it. This whole thing started as a fun method of procrastination when I was at university. Since then, it has evolved into more of…is it pretentious to say ‘an intellectual exercise’? Being Funny On The Internet is really not my strong point, whereas I actually like writing longer freeform ‘essays’ and getting into detailed analysis. I like having the freedom that a first-time close-read provides to dig into whatever takes my interest, whether that means line-by-line (over)analysis of a particular sequence, or drawing parallels between events or characters, or writing essays on the use of POV as a tool for exploring identity, or whatever else. Because I’m a massive nerd who loves this kind of thing, and this format lets me do whatever I want with it.I’ve actually learned quite a lot about myself as a reader during this whole absurd project, especially about what I want from a story, what kinds of things I like to think about, and what things I could not give less of a fuck about. I want a book that makes me think, and I want to be challenged in some way. When I say the liveblog is primarily for me, I’m really not kidding. I’d be thinking about these things anyway, and this just gives me more structure and ability to do so, because I have to follow my thoughts through and frame them more clearly.Of course, there’s something of a flipside, which brings me to…

Expectations, both my own and other people’s, real or perceived. Probably not surprisingly, I tend to expect quite a lot (too much) of myself. Part of the reason I chose to do the liveblog in a stream-of-consciousness as-I-read format was to give myself as much freedom as possible from those expectations. When I first started, it didn’t matter if one post felt sloppy, or if I skipped over an interesting line, or even if I missed bigger ideas. But as time and wordcount went on, and I got more invested, it felt more and more important to pick up on everything, and to make every post good. (Spoiler alert: I did not make every post good).Maybe it shouldn’t matter to me how many people are reading this and what they think, but I’m human and I have flaws and also an ego. When I first started, I wasn’t thinking of it as work that I was putting on display, or something that would be read and judged as an example of my capability or intelligence or whatever. But as it started to change in style/content, and as more and more people were reading it and responding to it, there was more of a sense of…pressure (an illusion of my own perception, just to clarify, not anyone’s fault). Like I had to exhibit my best work every time, because I suppose I care more what people think of my analytical ability than what they think of my bad one-liners.It’s positive in that it pushes me to produce better work, and encourages me to spend more time on things I find interesting because it turns out there are people who like reading what I come up with. Which is awesome! But as (perceived) expectation increases, it gets harder to produce content quickly. When it didn’t matter, I could spit out several posts a day. Now, I have to spend more time – I want to spend more time; if I’m going to do this I’m going to do it well. But the longer it takes, the better I want each piece to be so that the only post in a month isn’t a shitty one, so then each post takes more time, so then…you get the idea.(To illustrate: every time I think about the Rhuidean sequence there’s a part of me that throws up an absurd amount of self-criticism for not ‘doing those chapters justice’. Because they’re some of the best chapters of the series, but at the time I hadn’t progressed enough in the series or my style to spend as much time on those chapters or analyse them as well as I might now. Also, at the time I felt like I was already doing way more than I had before, and I worried even then that it was too much somehow. Check my tags on that one; I laugh at them now, and it’s clearly a Turning Point in the style of the liveblog, but I was actually quite insecure about it at the time).

The general passage of time. The Wheel of Time turns…when I started this, I was a 22-year-old university student. Now I’m (masquerading as) a Real Adult. 3 years isn’t that long, but people change over time. There are things I’ve formed or changed or relinquished opinions on, and things I care more or less about. My priorities and goals, both day-to-day and longer term, have shifted, some in small ways and some in larger ones. Most of that isn’t going to directly impact a tumblr liveblog of an epic fantasy series, but there’s definitely an indirect impact. The other thing to consider in terms of ‘time’ is the approach to a short-term project vs a long-term one. I initially saw this as light short-term fun, meaning I could go all-in, use all my spare time on it, and put aside other projects and hobbies for a while. When it became clear that it was not going to be a matter of 2-3 months, that had to change. I wish I could still spend nearly all my free time on this, just as I wish I could get paid to travel wherever I want while reading whatever I fancy. Unfortunately, real life seems to disagree, so the liveblog has had to slow down.

All that said, I am still enjoying this – it’s been a surprisingly and incredibly fun, fascinating, and rewarding project, and I am still absolutely committed to seeing it through.

#the amount of time it took me to get around to answering this #probably says something in and of itself #but it's a good question anon #and it was probably a good one for me to actually sit down and give some thought to #so thanks for that!#asks #anon #regarding the liveblog

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reddestreactionblush · 4 years ago

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Animal crossing: Survival Days part 2

Day 8

She says she's afraid but she’s a liar, and left a piece of herself in the fire. Puffy cheeks and devoid of life, she is far too close to getting the knife. A rhyme sets off in my head, a character clocked in black appears. A blue crystal ball glows illuminating the seers face. You have been warned.

I wake up in a cold sweat.

“We’re not leaving you alone in the gates, Suzette. You haven’t washed up in weeks, I’m not surprised if it smells like you died in there.” Agnes argues with a closed door. “We’re all going to be there, while it's morning, so the chances of you getting attacked are super slim.”

“Meaning that there is still a chance? No thank you.”

Agnes groans.

“Alright. I didn’t want to do this.” Agnes says, taking a step back before breaking down the door. She reaches in, dragging out a hamster with tan and white fur and brown hair. She looked absolutely disheveled and tired as if she would stay up and flinch at every bump in the night. She didn't even put up too much of a fight while being dragged, simply too tired to really be alive.“You are coming with us, whether you like it or not.”

she is far too close to getting the knife

I shiver remembering the warning.

Several days of having a frowny face can result in a villager stopping all primary functions. If certain needs aren’t met, they could stop living all together.

Suzette locks herself in her house because she doesn’t feel safe. And because of that she is dying.

“Agnes… it’s okay. We can bring back a bucket of water.”

“No, Shepherd. She needs this.” Agnes says. “Being cooped up in her hut all the time isn’t doing her any favors.”

And that was that.

Everyone seemed ready to head out to the river for a quick bath, Daisy Mae’s hat having assorted soap and bath toys in it while Joan carried a kettle and some towels. Digby and Isabelle, however, had everything ready to harvest some trees while we were out, along with some equipment just in case of an ambush or sudden raid. Even Petra and Merlin looked ready with a picnic basket at hand.

The river wasn’t a long walk from here, I remember crossing the bridge over it with Rover during my trip here. Within the hour, everyone was able to settle in and begin today’s activities.

“Aw! You’re not taking a bath?” Daisy Mae wines, puffing out her cheeks.

“No. Not right now.” I say, ruffling up her hair. “But maybe in a bit. After I work up a good sweat.”

“Hm… fine.” she groans.

Speaking of…

I’m just now realizing how strong Isabelle is as I watched her chop down trees like it’s nothing, showing off the hidden muscles that you wouldn’t even guess was there. It reminded me of how dangerous she really was, especially during combat.

Suddenly a cold sensation envelops me, a bucket of fresh river water being poured over my head, causing me to call out with a “Hey!”

“Saving graces, young Shepherd.” the culprit, Merlin, says. “You were emitting pheromones of arousal will ogling the fair Isabelle while her kin is not too far disjointed from either of you.”

The alchemist motions towards Digby, who hadn’t seemed to notice that you were staring at Isabelle, busy with the task at hand.

Saving graces was right, if Digby would have caught me, he would’ve kicked me into next Tuesday and buried me alive for sure.

“Aren’t you going to wash up?” I sigh, turning to him.

“Oh no, of course not!” he says, as if it was an obvious thing. “My fur is far too dense for that. I actually go through a dusting process that not only cleans my coat but it protects it by eliminating extra oils and moisture.”

“Oh…” i thought that Merlin was a squirrel… apparently not. “That’s fascinating.”

“Indeed.”

“And what of Petra.”

“Oh, my lovely assistant?” he says, motioning towards Petra who had decided to use this day to go fishing… without a fishing rod. She emerges from the river with a fish in her mouth, shaking the water off of her in a slow motion cinematic style. “She is truly something else, isn’t she?”

To be honest, you have so many questions about their relationship but you're not sure if you want to open that can of worms just yet.

“See? Was it worth all the fuss?” Agnes says, rinsing Suzette down as the hamster sits limply and idly. The hamster looked so frightened that it was painful to the eyes.

Watching everyone made you think back to the blueprints for the bathhouse that you were holding onto. You wouldn't have to wait or go outside of the fence if you built it.

“Um… hey.” i say, approaching the two. Agnes quirks an eyebrow before nudging Suzette into responding with a “Hi.”

“My name is Shepherd. I’m the one rebuilding the village to make it safer.”

“I’m Suzette.” she greets, refusing to make eye contact with me.

“Do… do you feel… Do you feel safe in Bellstone?”

“... i noticed that zombies aren’t scratching at my windows anymore.”

Not a direct answer but a sign of progress.

“Yeah… Isabelle, Digby, and I fixed the gates… and built a farm… and we’re working out some plans for a tavern, some new huts, and maybe a bathhouse, if we’re lucky.”

“...!” This seemed to get everyone's attention.

“Wait… really?” Agnes asks.

“Well, yeah… I don't see why not.”

“Don’t you think the materials could be used elsewhere?” Joan asks. “We really don’t mind coming to the river every now and again.”

“Of course, our health and mindset is the most important thing right now. So it’s not a waste of resources or anything.” I say, rub the back of my neck. “Not to mention that we are fortunate enough to be surrounded by resources, should we ever need to get more.”

“As nice as that sounds… perhaps we can discuss this later. We can speak of the multiple projects that need to transpire…” Digby says, grabbing my ear. “We shouldn’t go around making promises we can’t keep.”

“Yeah… i guess you’re right.”

“Thank you…” Suzette speaks up. “I’ve heard about how you've been working hard for the village’s sake.”

“And I will continue to.”

“Then if you don’t mind. Could you do me one favor?”

“Anything.”

“The noises. At night, the noises… they make me so petrified that I can't sleep…”

I nod my head in understanding.

“Done.”

Digby later sent me off to gather clay and sand from further down the river while him and Isabelle washed up, apparently very aware of my earlier gawking at her. He didn’t seem to appreciate it, threatening to gouge my eyes out if he catches me.

As we walked back, I noticed a sense of content throughout everyone. Tails wagging and ears perked, a general happy crowd. Daisy Mae skipped around everyone, asking what was going to be for dinner while Merlin discussed experiments with Joan and Petra.

“So... did you mean what you said back there?” Digby asks.

“Of course. I think we should start with the tavern first, like you had planned. Then maybe a local blacksmith for tools and smelting. Then, we can start with the houses while the bathhouse can be an ongoing effort along with some other side projects that i have been thinking about doing in the meantime.”

“That sounds great.” Isabelle beams. “I can’t wait to get started. Everyone seemed excited when you brought it up, so I’m sure that everyone is on board.”

“Speaking of which, earlier you told Suzette that you would do something about the noises at night… what exactly did you have planned?”

“Oh, i have an old jukebox that she can have." I say. “Though i don’t have a record disk…”

“Oh, that’s fine. Digby has a couple.”

“You like listening to music?” I ask, looking over at Digby.

“From time to time. As well as tea and a good book.” Digby says, a pink hue dotting his cheeks.

“...I’ll have to remember that.”

Day 12

The last couple of days had gone swimmingly, each one of us making more and more progress on our projects. The tavern was basically complete, Digby making the last couple interior decorating decisions while Isabelle worked diligently on the blacksmith, reconstructing it with the old hut that Joan and Daisy Mae once lived in. I stood at a crafting bench near the well, crafting the miscellaneous blocks that would be needed in the next set of projects.

And as luck and fate would have it, once a new residential place opened up, a new villager had arrived to fill it’s walls.

“Digby!!!” A pink otter tackles the gray Shi Tzu to the ground, smothering him with kisses as he struggles to breath.

“Wha!?! Lottie!?!” Digby scrambles to compose himself.

“Did you miss me? Cause I missed you! You didn’t even write! Do you know how many lonely nights I thought about you? I bet you didn’t… which makes me so sad.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, well…” she says, curling her brown hair around her finger. “i heard that you were in a financial pickle so i basically begged Uncle Lyle to let me come see what i could do for you. Are you not happy to see me?”

“What?!? No… who said that?!?”

“Aw…. you do care!” she says, snuggling into him and giving him eskimo kisses.

“Is that the sound of merrymaking, i hear?” Merlin chuckles, walking towards the couple, Petra by his side. Digby’s face turns bright red.

“Was that Lottie that i just heard?” Isabelle asks, jogging up to the couple.

“Oh hi, Isabelle. I didn’t see you. I was a little excited to see Digby.”

“I can see.” Isabelle says with a wink. The two giggle at Digby’s expense. Digby whimpers, his face simmering with embarrassment. “Lottie… please get off.”

“No way. It’s been forever since i got to hold you like this.” she nuzzles him affectionately. Digby officially gives up, covering his face with his paws.

“I’m aware but I am in the middle of an important project… and we’re in public. Perhaps we can continue this later… in privacy?” he says, trying to maintain his composer.

“Speaking of which…” Lottie says with a mischievous smirk. “Until i have an official place to stay, can i stay in your hut?”

“It’s alright, Digby. Shepherd and I can take over here.” Isabelle says, ushering the couple away, much to her little brother’s dismay.

“So… that happened.”

“Yep. Isn’t love beautiful?” Isabelle sighs. I blush.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in it before… have you?”

“Hm…” Isabelle hums, tapping the bottom of her chin. “I’m not really sure. I love this village and everyone in it, but i don’t think that's the same. Perhaps one day.”

“...Yeah.” I chuckle, nervously. “One day.”

“Oh, I’m almost done with the smithery. Did you craft the necessary blocks?”

“Yep. Stone cutter, blast furnace, grindstone, and the smithing table. I also added a couple more furnaces and a crafting table. Couldn’t hurt to have one more around.”

“Don’t I know it.” Isabelle cuckles. “What did you have planned for the rest of the day?”

“Well, I have the bath house that I promised that i’d start or i can start on the town square or the merchant stands… did you have something in mind?”

“No, I was just wondering what I could help you with.”

“Oh, well… actually, there is one thing that I want to do before I begin anything else.” I say, heading off to Suzette’s hut, Isabelle following behind with a “What?”

“Oh… good morning.” Suzette says, barely opening the door.

“Hey… I wanted to show you something. I think you will like it.”

“Um… right now?”

“If it’s okay with you. I thought that you would appreciate coming with me while there is still light out.”

“I do…” Suzette says, peeking her head out before stepping out. I take her paw and lead her toward the tavern, opening the doors and showing her around.

“Digby seemed to have the idea that you could run this place. If you want that is.” I say, turning to her, only to find her sniffling and wiping tears from her face. “I-I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

“You have no clue how much this means to me, Shepherd.” she says. “Not a clue. I’m so grateful.”

“Uh… mind clueing me in?”

“Just… just a bit. Before I moved to Bellstone, I lived in a village with a bunch of family and other critters. Worked with my ma and pa in the diner and fought with my brother, Graham, the nerd.” she chuckles fondly before shifting into a saddened look. “One day, a zombie raid happened midday out of nowhere. Not many of us made it out. The village was burned to the ground and graves were dug. I was a wreck, had a friend look over me and eventually dump me here when she got tired of taking care of me.”

“Oh…” What does anyone say to that?

“Just know that this is greatly appreciated.” she sas turning toward the kitchen. “Now… What should I make first? Perhaps something light?”

It warmed my heart to see Suzette unwind. I hope overtime perhaps everyone will come around to me like she has.

“Ah, just the right timing, I see.” Merlin smiles, holding up a cup. “Drink this.”

Everyone in the room looks warily at the cup before Petra volunteers to take the first sip. Her tongue slithers, licking her lips after the cup retreats from them.

“It’s milk.” she says simply. “Soy milk to be exact. The professor has been working really hard all night to perfect such a recipe. We also have samples of almond, rice, and peanut milk. Other tests will be run to make other substitutes.”

“Indeed. Using the new pressure machine that i have taken time to perfect, i can also now make tofu and specified oils and juices. This opens our options greatly.”

Suzette’s eyes sparkle.

“This is great news. Perhaps I should make a feast tonight. I feel as if there are a lot of things we could celebrate this evening.”

“Oh… that would be lovely.”

“Yeah… that reminds me…” I say, nudging at Isabelle. “There are some things that I need to speak to Isabelle about.”

Excusing ourselves, I led Isabelle to the well before turning to her.

“Not to dampen a happy moment… but we need to discuss our situation when it comes to bells. If we want to meet this month’s quota… we need to figure out how we are going to gather up enough bells.”

“Oh, Shepherd, don’t you worry.” she says, patting my head. “I already have this covered.”

“You keep saying that, but…”

“You don’t believe me.”

“No… that’s not it… I don't know… I want to help, if i can… I’ve been thinking about going to other cities to establish trade with them. Maybe take in some requests and offer some of the settlers some time to stay and see if they want to stay here. It’ll spread publicity…”

“While all that is great, it’ll take too much time.” Lottie says, walking toward us. I blush, noticing that she is wearing Digby’s shirt and tie. “What we need right now is to get a hold on reliable resources.”

“The Ressetti mines.” Isabelle says. “That’s the plan.”

“The what?”

“A good friend of mine, Mr. Resetti had an incident within his community. The mineshaft is known for having quite the prosperous arrangements. However, it’s been overrun as of late and needs clearing out.”

“And you planned on going alone?” I ask.

“...I did. But only when I knew that the town could function without me for a couple days… he’s not the only place I had in mind. There are multiple places within this forest that could use our help. The old lumber mill. The water tower. One of Cranny’s old ranger huts.”

“... I take it that these forests have been barren for a long while.” Lottie ponders.

“Unfortunately.” Isabelle nods. “That’s why Shepherd's idea is a good one. If we make a name for ourselves and make it safer for people to travel here, surely we can get our name out and expand.”

“Let’s not get too hasty. Finishing quests are dangerous and might not yield in profitable results like you expect them to… let’s see how this expedition in the mines go first. In the meantime, Digby and I will watch over the town.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, feeling all of this rush through my mind. If Isabelle and I are able to gather enough bells for this month’s rent, we’ll be extremely lucky. Something tells me that we’ve had it way too easy as of right now, though.

“We can head out in the morning towards Mythport. The mines aren’t too far from there.” Isabelle nods.

“We can notify all the villagers in the morning.” Lottie agrees.

#animal crossing fanfiction #animal crossing #fanfiction #original story #something to work on #originally posted on ao3 #part 2 #might post more #long reads #My writing #written for fun #might make fanart if requested #might be a series #wasting time #could be better

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cecillewhite · 5 years ago

Text

Software Demo Success: How to Present Your LMS In Its Best Light

If you’re a learning systems vendor, this scenario should sound familiar. Your sales team recently crafted a strong proposal in response to an LMS RFP, and the buyer has given your company a thumbs up. Congratulations! However, a full-scale celebration will have to wait. That’s because you’ve been asked to compete with other vendors in a software demo “bake-off.”

This is when the rubber really hits the road. It’s one thing to write a proposal that talks conceptually about use cases, requirements and functionality. But walking through a live product tour can make or break your solution in the minds of prospective buyers.

So, what happens when your solution steps into that white-hot spotlight? How exactly does your software demo make your product shine?

Of course, there’s no guarantee that even the most stellar presentation will seal the deal. But after years as a software sales consultant, and now as an LMS selection advisor, I’ve learned how you can significantly improve your chances. Here are some of are my best suggestions…

9 Ways to Make a Great Impression with Every Software Demo You Deliver

1) Sweat the logistical details

Some factors are complex and beyond your control. Others are easy to implement and entirely within your reach, including these basics:

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Watch the clock – It’s your responsibility to manage every minute from start to finish. Structure the agenda with top-down logic and prepare for questions that could derail the discussion.

Begin (and end) with a bang – Why save all the good stuff for last? If you don’t hook your audience within the first few minutes, you could lose them entirely. Besides, you may run out of time. So instead of building to a big finale, lead with a “wow” moment. Introduce a central business issue and illustrate how your solution adds value. Then shift less important details downstream. Also, plan to conclude with a bit of flair. Even if time is tight, those closing comments can be just as powerful as a strong opening.

Keep it moving (literally) – You want your audience to feel energized, right? Try getting out of your chair and slowly walking around. You can even tag-team with a colleague, so someone is always roaming. For online demos, you can simulate this by periodically shifting from screen sharing mode to facial display when answering questions.

Check yourself – What if your mother were in the audience? Would she want to hear keys or loose change jingling in your pocket? Would she remind you to stand up straight and smile? Always maintain a positive attitude, even when challenged. Pace yourself and “never let them see you sweat.”

Use a cheat sheet – Even after 20+ years of delivering demos, I always create a script. I might wander off-track, but that’s when a script is even more critical. This quick reference tool helps me stay focused and reminds me which keystrokes fit each scenario.

2) Do your research

I know a rep who generated excitement with prospects with “intro demos” but he refused to prep with a sales consultant. He thought a brief pre-demo huddle in the prospect’s lobby was sufficient. Trust me, you’ll get better results when you plan ahead. For example:

Update discovery findings – One of the biggest mistakes you can make is assuming that research from the RFP phase is still accurate in the demo phase. To avoid surprises, contact the prospect in advance to review and refresh use cases. You’ll also want to confirm demo audience information, logistics and other details.

Involve and educate your team – This story explains what’s at stake. Recently, I witnessed the leading vendor in an LMS selection project rely on a remote Professional Services resource to outline implementation plans. But because this resource had very little knowledge of the prospect or the project, the presentation was very generic. In a matter of minutes, that vendor lost the bid.

3) Wrap your demo in a “theme”

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My go-to theme was the “1-click” software demo. This is about giving participants multiple reasons to think, “Wow. That was easy!” You can do this by emphasizing 1-click functionality throughout the session. For example, say “…in only 1 click, you can launch the content.” Or, “…just 1 click updates all the course records.”

You can further reinforce the point by encouraging participants to join your 1-click chorus. Just set-up a sentence and wait for them to fill-in the blank. For example, “…this means you can assign content to any group of users with only ____.”

They may not remember everything they see, but I promise you, they will remember the “1-click” demo.

4) Invest in demo data

Of all the factors that can damage a demo, weak data ranks at or near the top. Countless times, I’ve seen how data brings a solution to life. That’s why I developed an extensive demo database and became deeply familiar with every aspect of it, including:

Completeness – Have you ever run a report that produced zero records? Have you searched a catalog, only to find mismatched results? That should never happen in a demo. Every field, every tab, every report should be populated with appropriate data. And it’s your job to fill all the gaps.

Relevance – When you’re presenting a software demo to a healthcare company, imagine how compelling it is to display industry-specific data. This is where relationships with content providers can give you an edge. They’re usually happy to share data with you in exchange for a shout-out during a demo. At the same time, prospects will view your product as more than just a learning platform. It’s a solution!

First-hand knowledge – Remember the demo “cheat sheet” I mentioned earlier? You can include dozens of key feature examples. If a prospect asks to see something specific, this helps you find it quickly and easily. Want to see the waitlist for an instructor-led training event? Found in 1 click! How about coupon code creation tools? Again, just 1 click away!

5) Setup–Show–Recap (SSR)

Have you ever seen a software demo that seems more like a giant run-on sentence? It’s hard to know if the presenter even bothered to take a breath!

While the “setup–show–recap” method requires more effort than the “spray and pray” approach, prospects should recognize that you’ve mapped their pain points to relevant use cases. Here’s how to make it work:

SEE THE WINNERS NOW!

Setup – Depending on your audience and logistics, you can use PowerPoint slides, a whiteboard or flip chart to present a preview. This introduction is important because it lets the audience know what to expect and gives you an opportunity to verify the use case.

Show – If you deconstruct the demo into bite-sized scenario “nuggets,” your audience is less likely to become overwhelmed. Think of teaching teenagers how to drive. If you cover 3-point turns, parallel parking, backing up and changing a tire all in one session, don’t expect them to remember anything. Instead, focus on one scenario at a time.

Recap – After participating in multiple demos with a series of vendors, your audience won’t remember many specifics. However, they will remember which vendors “get it.” And what presenter doesn’t like to see smiles and nodding heads in the audience? So why wait until the end of your demo to recap? Instead, summarize each scenario, so you see smiles and nods throughout your session – not just at the end.

6) Shift your emphasis

The demo isn’t about the product. It’s about what the product can do for your prospect. This can be particularly challenging, especially for product managers and other non-sales professionals, or for presenters with a service or training background. Remember these points:

“Sell. Don’t tell” – This is not the time to discuss every button, tab and menu in your system. Dwelling on your features checklist usually leaves prospects bored and frustrated.

Put “you” before “me” – As a potential client, which sentence would draw you into a software demo? “I’ll run the compliance report now,” or “Here’s how you can run the compliance report.” With “you” as the subject, the demo stays focused on audience interests. It also engages prospects and helps them take ownership of the solution.

7) Tap into your whole team

Let me clarify a common misunderstanding. The term “software demo” does not mean, “It’s time for account executives to check email messages.”

All too often, reps briefly introduce the company, the product and the sales consultant. Then they check-out mentally until the Q&A. This causes multiple issues:

Your audience can get tired of hearing one person throughout the demo

They may wonder if the system is too difficult for anyone other than an expert to use

They may wonder if a disjointed demo effort reflects your organization’s broader culture

While multitasking, your rep may miss key comments and questions.

Bottom line: Reps and solutions consultants should work together to prepare and deliver every software demo as a coordinated team.

8) Keep it simple

Your audience will include people of various ages, experience levels and interests. So, think about how you’ll appeal to a common denominator. For example:

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Use acronyms wisely – LRS, LXP, B2B, CRM – our industry is brimming with alphabet soup. But these terms aren’t universally understood. When you introduce an acronym, briefly define it.

Speak in simple terms – Words like “bifurcate”, “ubiquitous” or “juxtaposition” may seem impressive. But unusual terms can distract, confuse and frustrate your audience. Why run that risk?

Trim your clicks – Do you have too many “screen kung fu” moves? That’s what one of my industry colleagues calls demos with an overabundance of clicks and screens. Instead, showcase your knowledge of a use case by performing each action in the fastest and simplest way.

Command your time – You’ll be tempted to rush when adrenaline is pumping and you need to cram 30 more minutes of material into the remaining 10-minutes of a demo. Here’s a better approach. Ask audience members how they prefer to use the remaining time. Then offer to cover additional items in a live or recorded follow-up session.

9) Stand out from the crowd

Wondering why I’ve listed 9 tips instead of 10? It’s a small way to differentiate this post from standard “top 10” lists. You can do the same thing to make a software demo more memorable. For example:

Respond to questions as they arise throughout the session – This is a great way to involve your team and make the demo experience more dynamic. If you don’t have a real-time answer, ask your sales rep to text or email others for clarification, so you can respond before the demo ends. Prospects will appreciate your resourcefulness and responsiveness.

Include external voices in the conversation – Adding third-party participants can be a highly persuasive tactic. For example, if you know that a prospect is very concerned about implementation services, invite a client to speak during the demo about your ability to deliver on time, on spec and on budget.

Follow up – Obviously, if you promise to follow-up on a specific question or issue, it’s essential to close that loop. But if you really want to leave a strong impression, try this: Record a 5-15-minute summary of demo highlights and discussion points. Then add a brief video introduction and a thank you. It’s a memorable way to address remaining demo gaps and reinforce your value proposition.

Closing Notes

Some of these software demo ideas are easy to implement. Others require research, practice and determination. They may even require some outside help.

But after years of experience, I know that many of these practices are overlooked by a surprising number of LMS vendors. That means, with a bit of extra effort, you can separate yourself from the competition and improve your chances of landing new business.

I’ll explore more ideas in future posts. In the meantime, if you’d like more detailed advice about how our LMS vendor services can help you sharpen your demo script, strengthen your demo database or improve your win rate, feel free to contact us anytime!

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sleep-silent-angel · 8 years ago

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For Annie

Characters: Annie (OFC), Nick (OMC), Dean Winchester

Pairing: None

Warnings: ANGST IN THE FIRST DEGREE. There’s no joy in here. Loneliness. Alcohol. TRIGGER WARNING in tags to avoid spoilers.

Word Count: 2580

A/N: I am so, SO sorry. It knocked around in my brain until I had to look it in the eye and conquer it. The title is taken from an old Christian song by the same title. If you know it, you may know what’s coming. Un-beta’d, all errors are mine.

For Annie

She stops inside the busy bar’s front doors to adjust her eyes to the dim light. She’s not exactly out of place in department store jeans and blue and black printed top, but she certainly wouldn’t stand out. She could be mid to late 40s, maybe breathing down fifty’s neck. It would take a few looks at her features to realize she could have at some time been pretty. She’s frail slender, and small, but not the kind of short that draws comments about it. Just, not quite average. Straight, mud brown hair falls to just short of her collarbone. She threads between the patrons to hitch herself onto a tall perch at a corner of the three-sided bar.

The bartender, early-thirties, fit, reasonably attractive enough, greets her with a bland smile which she returns with effervescent charm.

“Evening, I’ll have a rum and diet Coke please. I’m Annie, what’s your name?”

“Comin’ right up. Nick, good to meet you.”

She gets her drink, talks lightly with bartender while he dries beer glasses. “Did you grow up in town, Nick?”

“Austin. Another year, get my degree, an’ I’m gone back.”

“And what are you studying?”

“Business. Take over dad’s office.” His answers deteriorate shorter and less descriptive, until he drifts off to sweet talk the waitress leaning far over the adjoining bar top.

A couple, she recognizes as the Vice Principal of the grade school and her Pharmacist husband, take seats at the end of her counter of the bar. They’re already tapping feet and smiling loose, and easy to engage in happy gossip. Soon enough, and without taking their leave, they drift toward the dance floor, drinks in hand.

A man, a little older than herself, heavier set and tall in his tired suit, sits at the opposite corner of the bar from her. Annie smiles sweetly, plays with her hair, catches his eye and nods demurely. He takes a few glances, turns toward her, raises his drink. An exchange of pleasantries, but no names. She empties her glass, toys with the edge with delicate fingertips, nudging it imperceptibly in his direction. A flash of blue and yellow gold behind her catches his eye, and his attention slides to a point over her shoulder. A few more broken sentences, and she knows she’s already lost him.

He nods politely to Annie, gets up with a swaggering roll of his shoulders, sweeps up his drink and strides toward the coy bottle blonde a few tables away. Annie nods sagely as he takes his leave, her expression soft and accepting. She smiles wistfully at the bartender, perhaps seeking apology or sympathetic understanding. Soon enough she leaves into the deepening dusk after two hours and her third drink.

The next evening repeats the pattern. At the same seat, Annie orders the same drink from the same bartender in what just might be the same black button down shirt with sleeves rolled up.

“Evening, ma’am. What can I get ya?”

“Rum and Diet Coke. And please, I’m Annie.”

“Gotcha. Rum and Diet.”

“Thank you… sorry, did I get your name?”

“Nick. Any time, darlin’.”

Tonight, a pair of friends, either truckers or construction workers, judging from their beer bellies, drop onto stools next to Annie. They’re loud, sauced, and apparently best buds with everyone. She smiles polite and open when one bumps her shoulder repeatedly. Turns out it’s not the “oh pardon me, gee you’re pretty” introduction she had hoped for. In the end neither of them spare a look in her direction. Except of course to cop the Men’s room down the hall behind her. Annie leaves after only two drinks tonight.

The sixth night Annie lasts only as long as it takes to hop a few dances on the dance floor. She meets the watery gaze of a buzzed young man surrounded by his mates and their girls. Watery gaze jogs a song out facing her, his hip even manages to brush her once or twice. As the track ends, he turns his back to her to rejoin his pals, and she has a first-hand witness to his exaggerated head-shaking with a thumb hooked over his shoulder. The girls with him wrinkle their noses and giggle, their dates howl their jests at buddy’s expense. Annie’s smile never falters, although it’s a little dimmer for a moment. She shrugs back into her dignity over one more drink and one more introduction to Nick. The big doors close behind her before the ice even starts to melt in her emptied glass.

Consecutive nights. Some repeat faces, mostly new ones. And a-one, and a-two, and a-second verse, just like the first.

On night nineteen, a tall, solidly built, roughneck type makes himself at home on a bar stool a few seats to Annie’s right. When her head turns with interest toward him, their eyes meet with the polite, if disconnected, tight lipped smiles of strangers acceding the sharing of public space. She takes the time to explore him over once or twice with grey eyes, making special note of the spread of his knees, the evidence of manual labour in his rough worn hands, the tell-tale approach of age in the coarseness of his cheek. He keeps his back to the room, attending to a few bottles of domestic, a platter of substantial potato skins, and the Braves and Padres game on the overhead televisions.

Annie makes a trip to the Ladies’, and when she returns it’s to the seat just one more closer to the rather attractive big man’s elbow.

“Padres haven’t beat the Braves all year, doesn’t look like they’re doing much better tonight,” Annie volunteers toward Nick and maybe the new bar mate to her right. Nick simply continues pouring the order in front of him without acknowledging her, but the big man in canvas and denim nods aimlessly, and turns soft eyes her way momentarily. “Don’t look like it.”

“They put up a good effort though, gotta give them that,” Annie ventures on with attempts at Small Talk With Strangers. Her voice is deceptively youthful, clear, just a little bit breathy, and just as neat as her appearance would promise.

“They do, I guess. Braves just have their number this year,” Handsome Stranger returns once his latest bottle is emptied and offered for a replacement.

“I’m Annie, by the way.” Her short glass remains half-filled and caressed in slender fingers.

The man sinks his weight onto forearms crossed on the bar top, and seems to debate with himself whether or not to risk it. Finally he swings his head heavily in ‘fuck it why not’ resignation. “Dean.”

Annie raises her glass to Dean with her best coquettish smile, “Happy Thursday, Dean.” He returns her casual toast with the neck of his new bottle, finishing with a short mouthful of the drink. The next minutes flow by against the background of low bar conversation, the click and thunk of the pool tables, and Dean’s gaze moving progressively over various female figures passing by. Annie doesn’t concede defeat quite yet, though, risking a little more of his patience. She turns more directly toward Dean, bringing her drink to rest innocently between them.

“Do you play? Ball, I mean.”

“Hm? Uh, no. Never good at the organized team thing.” Dean’s attention is disjointed toward a flirting brunette in a purple sweater giggling nearby with her girlfriends. In the next inning break the purple sweater appears at his elbow between him and Annie with empty glass in hand. Dean’s hand goes to the girl’s back, high enough to be chaste, but with just enough weight to stake a claim on her evening, gesturing to Nick with the other to refill two drinks. As Nick delivers Annie’s next, last, rum and Diet Coke, Dean leans back to catch her eye around his new date.

“Have a good night. Good to meet you.”

“You too, Dean. Thanks.” Annie doesn’t even watch him depart the bar with the girl tucked against his side. She does tuck in on herself long enough to finish her rum and Diet Coke, before nodding wordlessly to Nick and slipping out into the evening.

The twentieth night, Dean takes the same seat as he had the previous night, Annie’s empty glass and a wet-ringed napkin lying next to it a few feet away. Her tall seat stands empty, but soon he spies her on the opposite edge of the dance floor, sweetly waifish among the handful of dancers surrounding her. She sways and bobs her chin almost gracefully to Audioslave’s melancholy Like a Stone pouring out of the speakers. There doesn’t seem to be a partner swaying with her. The press of couples and dancers near her pay her no regard. When the song ends she raises her pensive stare from the floor, nods decisively to herself and returns to her spot at the bar. As she nears, she meets Dean’s nod of recognition with a pleasant, perhaps hopeful, girlish smile.

She holds his gaze just a moment long enough to pick up her glass to reposition it a hand's width away. Nick sweeps the glass and napkin away, murmuring a confirming question if she would like another. Seconds plod away until Dean blinks blankly. Annie lifts her chin stoically, as her resolve drains from her eyes.

“Sure, Nick. Rum and Diet Coke.” She prompts patiently as he opens his mouth to inquire and Dean’s head swivels away to come to rest in the direction of the pool tables. Left with the view of the back of his head and impressive shoulders, Annie sips her drink. From there she observes the assortment of bar patrons interact. There’s the co-ed knots of friends at tables flirting and failing over foaming pitchers, the scattered pairs of couples hip-leaning and close-talking at the rail lining the far wall, the two groups of confident men and courageous women seamlessly pairing off in a stunning display of John Nash’s study in human nature.

Annie alone at her perch begins to feel a little like the picked over rock among the freshly polished stones along the river banks. She lowers herself from the tall stool and raises a glance toward Nick taking orders from a waitress at the opposite end of the counter. She turns then to Dean who at the same moment is striding away on his thick bowed legs in the direction of the restrooms down the hall.

“Well. Goodnight then. Thanks for everything.” No one answers, but then, she really didn’t expect one.

After a few minutes, Dean comes back to his place and notices Annie’s seat deserted. “She coming back?”

Nick shrugs loosely, “I’unno. Gotta give it to the old girl. She’s been here for the last three weeks, same place every night. Talks to anyone, flirts with all the guys, but always arrives and leaves alone. Never seen anyone even buy her a drink.”

“Huh,” is all Dean can manage. “Huh.”

The next evening Dean drops onto the bar stool next to Annie’s apparently customary place. Lifting his chin to Nick, he orders his first whiskey and beer chaser as the bartender approaches.

“Did I miss her?”

“Who?” Nick sets a glass and an opened bottle on cardboard coasters at Dean’s elbow.

“Annie. Pretty lady, dark hair, little thing, sits here every night?” Dean jerks his head at the bare space next to him.

“Dunno, nobody’s been there all night,” Nick throws over his shoulder as he goes about his business.

“Tell ya what. When Annie gets in tonight, put her drinks on my tab.” His head ducked into the beer cooler, Nick waves a thumbs-up in recognition of the offer. Two hours later Dean is half a dozen beers thicker and too focused on the blonde twins next to the jukebox to remember who it was he meant to be waiting for.

Annie rests on the balcony wrapped in a dull worn blanket against a cooling breeze. Her bare feet disappear tucked under her for warmth on a cushion. She watches leaves skitter across the street and the colours of the sunset drain into the horizon from a creaking wicker chair. When the last trace of purple melts into grey, she sighs deeply and stands, laying the blanket folded just so over the arm of the chair.

She goes through the unlit little space, adjusting her spartan surroundings as she goes. On her pass through the bare kitchen for a glass of water, a solitary wood slatted kitchen chair is squared to the formica table, a chiffon curtain pulled straight, a loose thread picked and brushed away. Entering her bedroom, Annie considers for a moment closing the door behind her, instead deciding to leave it opened to the view of the single armchair and empty plant stand across the dim adjoining living room. A single brass key lays atop four envelopes on the round table in the hall. Her three utility bills, all paid in full. Seventy two dollars and eleven cents in total. A large orange document envelope she’s been deciding who to address to. She has settled on Police Chief Larry Thompson, seems the most likely.

She undresses and hangs her clothes in trim order in a closet empty except for the few hangers holding the last of the clothes which fit lately. She pulls a fresh, pink cotton nightgown on, secures the buttons at the chest. She sits delicately on the edge of the narrow bed, her weight barely enough to wrinkle the dull purple coverlet smoothed precisely over it. She places her emptied water glass exactly so in the yellowed light of the tiny lamp. She replaces two plastic caps and turns the empty amber bottles to match the glass.

Annie shuts off the lamp with a faint ‘snap’. She sits in the silent dark and reminisces on the array of people come and gone from her life - her mother long dead from liver cancer, her father in the last vacant stages of Alzheimer’s in Philadelphia. Her estranged brother Roy, who stopped asking for help supporting their father once the Veteran’s pension took over. His ex-wife Barbara, who used to have such a busy mouth before she found quiet in the bourbon. Jethro, her ex husband who left on a business trip over eight years ago and has never extended a word to her since. Neighbors who she’s never met, but who come and go on a Swiss train schedule morning and evening.

It’s been two years since her aged cat, Tigger, mostly lame from advanced diabetes, disappeared from her back porch. Fourteen months since she left her job at the grocery store. Nine days after she stopped going to work, her resignation letter was still in the mail slot beside the Manager’s door.

There are no photos left hanging on her walls, she disconnected her phone just after the turn of spring. It had been four months since she got a call on it. It’s been exactly eight months on Sunday since she’s heard her own name spoken from another mouth.

Her hands rest stacked in her lap and head hangs bowed for long minutes until her shoulders nod wearily. Finally she lays herself out between the cool cotton sheets, straight and expectant. It doesn’t take long for the embrace of sleep she summoned in a handful. Her last happiness comes with a soundless sigh, relieved at last to sink into the emptiness of her own making.

And it's too late for Annie, she's gone away for good There's so much we could tell her and now we wish we could

.....

If only we had known her situation, We'd have tried to stop this useless tragedy Annie's lost forever, never to be found But there are lots of others like her all around

TOE-TAGS: @rizlow1 @awhiskeywithawinchester @littlegreenplasticsoldier @kittenofdoomage @sis-tafics @the-mrs-deanwinchester @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deandoesthingstome @aprofoundbondwithdean @kayteonline @inkiestdawn @dorky-and-i-know-it @mrswhozeewhatsis @mrsjohnsmith @skybinx-blog @ellen-reincarnated1967 @saenalife @jotink78 @nichelle-my-belle @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @sp-oops @ilostmyshoe-79 @misswhizzy @rainygalaxynerd @spectaculacular-sammy @klaineaholic @but-deans-back-tho @writingthingsisdifficult @oriona75 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @charliesbackbitches @feelmyroarrrr @salvachester @love-me-some-pie21 @demberly @faith-in-dean @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @hello-nicolexoxo-love @@notnaturalanahi @bringmesomepie56 @charliebradbury1104 @daydreamingintheimpala @deanssweetheart @winchesterprincessbride @manawhaat @bkwrm523 @whispersandwhiskerburn @for-the-love-of-dean @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @katnharper @quiddy-writes

#Dean Winchester fic #my fics #angst #suicide tw #character death #SPN fic

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lettersofsky · 8 years ago

Text

Letters of Longing and Regret

I don’t know how to explain this thing. It started as a bunch of disjointed drabbles ideas and then this just sort of happened? As always edited by @corrupted-spirit and it was also named by him because I had no idea what to call it. Characters: Genesis, mentions Cloud, Zack, Angeal and Sephiroth Contains: Weird disjointed musings, angst, no fun times. Enjoy! AO3

My Dearest,

I’m sorry that I won’t be able to say goodbye face-to-face like I originally wanted, but orders are orders.

I’m being deployed to Wutai within the next few days; a sort of ‘final push’ in the war efforts. Perhaps the war will be over by the time I return.

I think I’d prefer it like that.

Do try to behave while I’m gone, I expect to hear about how you got into SOLDIER when I get back. Perhaps you’ll finally let me introduce you to Angeal?

Try not to worry about me too much; Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return

Yours,

Genesis Rhapsodos

My Dearest,

I’m sorry to admit that I have been lying to you my dear.

You were right to be concerned; the wound is not healing. It has instead developed into an agonising thing. I went to see Hollander and he’s currently resting a few tests, but I fear I will be deep in enemy territory by the time he gets results.

I can only hope that he gets favourable results.

Once more, I apologise for lying to you but I know what you would ask of me if you if you knew about the wound; you would ask that I remain in Shinra until we could figure out what was wrong and how to cure it.

Perhaps you’re right, thinking on it that course makes the most sense. But we both know why I’m going on this mission instead.

If I was telling you this face-to-face you’d be telling me I’m an idiot with that look on your face…

I will return to you, I swear it. Hollander will discover what is wrong and a way to cure it; of this I’m sure.

I will see you after the war.

Yours,

Genesis Rhapsodos

My Dearest,

It appears that I have lied to you again; though this time without meaning to.

Holl– Hollander says that the reason the wound is not helping is because –

Because of ‘Degradation’.

He said, said that I’m rotting from the inside. I don’t know what to do Dearest; I’m scared.

I don’t want to die. I want –

I wish I wasn’t here in Wutai; that I had stayed in Midgar and let one of the others lead this mission. I want you to sit with me on the couch and say things will be alright but –

He says there might not be a cure. That I’m doomed to a slow, agonising death. To rot away to nothing but a shadow of myself.

I’m terrified Dearest, but I can’t let the others see. I need to be strong until I can get back home. I’m going to hold out as best I can and request a replacement for myself when I get the chance.

I’ll try to get back soon.

Yours,

Genesis Rhapsodos

My Dearest,

Please forgive my dear, I did not want to abandoned you. I did not leave you because I wished too. But he said that he had a theory on how to cultivate a cure for this rotting so what choice did I have but to take it.

You must hate me now; for leaving you, abandoning you. But I can’t help but believe it was for the best.

I’m losing, losing things. Minutes, hours, days, my temper, my reasoning, me.

He says that the degradation is causing my mind to rot and it terrifies me; what would I do if I ever hurt you? Even if it was not truly ‘me’ who had dealt the blow?

I still cannot bear the thought.

But, he is hopeful so I must be as well. To return to you, whole and healthy is my only wish. Please continue to do the best you can, I know you’re going to be something great someday.

Do not let my actions smother you.

Know that I miss you.

Forever yours,

Genesis Rhapsodos

My Dearest,

So much time has passed since my desertion from Shinra, do you still hold me as dear as I hold you?

There are times where it feels like only days have passed since I last saw you, there are other where I can barely remember you. I’m sorry for the grief I’m causing you, my Dearest.

But I fear it’s only going to get worse from here.

Hollander hasn’t made any progress in his search for my cure and I am growing weary of his excuses. It’s been too long and he has nothing to show for it. Nothing but lesser copies, doomed to die at the hands of those they once fought with.

Have you –

Have you had to fight them? His creations?

If so I’m sorry I forced that on you my Dearest.

I hope you managed to find friends in SOLDIER that you have them to support you. I have always had Angeal, even now he is here trying to help me, causing him to lose all he had worked to gain.

There are days when I regret dragging him into this mess.

But you –

You’ve been alone for so long, you should not have to bear the burden of my departure on your own.

Perhaps you’ve found Angeal’s apprentice, grief has a way of bringing people together. Or perhaps you’ve been cast to the wayside, left to flounder on your own.

I wish I could see you my Dearest, to hold you close and tell you things will turn out well for you.

I still believe you’re going to do great things.

Forever yours,

Genesis Rhapsodos

My Dearest

I fear that I am losing more of myself as time passes.

Both Angeal and I have manifested wings, he believes that it means that we’re both monsters. Would you see it that way? Or would you fight until he changed his opinion.

Unfortunately, I can’t help but agree with him.

Hollander has us set up in Banora, our hometown. It’s odd being back here after so long. It’s nice. In a way.

Remember when I told you about this place? It hasn’t changed a bit since we left, still the same small town; the people are just a bit older.

My trees are still here. Strong, sturdy and beautiful. They’re baring fruit now, I keep trying to offer some to Angeal but he ignores the offering.

It’s almost insulting; I worked hard on these trees, why won’t he try one of my apples? Sephiroth was the same way not that I think about. Is it wrong of me to want to share the fruit of my efforts with the people I care about?

I never shared one with you, did I? I hope I get the chance to when this is over.

Forever Yours,

Genesis Rhapsodos

My Dearest

They destroyed it.

All my efforts, my hopes for a cure, all my hard work gone. Razed to the ground because of the will of Shinra.

The red moon hangs low, and the beasts rule the streets, Are we left no other choice, than to burn it all to cinders.

Angeal nearly deserted my cause, swayed by his student. I shouldn’t hold it against him though; if I could return to you I would do so without hesitation.

It’s odd, knowing Banora’s gone. I don’t truly have a place to return to anymore, do I?

After all, Banora is gone and I can’t return like this. Shinra would have my head before I could do anything and there are none there that would stop them, at least none that are in a position to.

I hope I still have you, but –

I hope you’re doing well in SOLDIER, you worked hard to get in. You deserve it.

Forever Yours,

Genesis Rhapsodos

My Dearest

I hope you won’t injured during the attack where you? As a SOLDIER, you must have been required to defend the Shinra building and the streets of Midgar.

It certainly drew his attention; his and our replacement.

I tried to ask Angeal how it felt to be replaced by his student; he had always been closer to him than I ever managed. He refuses to answer me.

In times long passed, he might have punched me for asking for such a thing. But he won’t dare to now, I can’t heal without the use of strong Materia and time.

It’s rather bothersome to be treated so delicately. I wouldn’t have allowed it before, but then there wasn’t a need for it then.

I’m starting to fear that it might have been better for Angeal to stay with Shinra, he’s become quite bitter in the last two years. I shouldn’t have allowed him to desert with me; he was happier there, I shouldn’t have allowed him to throw that away.

He wouldn’t let me kill Hojo though, even though we both know he deserves far worse than that.

I suppose I will have to wait for my next opportunity; Hollander hopefully got what he needed and I’ll be free of this disease soon.

Then I’ll put my sword through Hojo’s chest and Angeal won’t be able to stop me.

Forever Yours,

Genesis Rhapsodos

My Dearest

Angeal is gone.

He couldn’t bare this existence anymore and threw himself on his student’s sword. I’m alone in this now, abandoned to my fate. Abandoned me to Hollander’s incompetence.

It hurts, my dear.

I’ve hadn’t been this alone in so long, I don’t know if I can handle it. But, was that you with Fair?

It can’t have been, that uniform –

That uniform –

You’re in the infantry. A member of the regular army.

A meat shield for Shinra –

Oh, my dear. You must have been crushed! You were always working so hard, I thought you were guaranteed to get in.

It was good to see you again, even if the circumstances weren’t what I wanted them to be. You didn’t look at me though. Though it’s understandable; you don’t need the attention of the Turks.

It still stung for your eyes to skip over me as if I was no more than the phantom of a memory. It seems that it won’t be long until that comes to pass.

Did you weep when you returned to Midgar; away from the gazes of those who would condemn you? Have I caused you more grief with my washed-out appearance? Do you believe that I fell to my demise there?

It might have been better if I had; I could have had a quick end after seeing you once more. But that would have been a far kinder fate than a monster deserves.

Please find someone to be happy with, I’ve caused you too much heartache.

Forever yours,

Genesis Rhapsodos

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, not you too, please, please anyone but you.

Why did you have to be there?

You weren’t –

You weren’t supposed to get hurt!

You were supposed to be safe!

He was supposed to keep you safe!

I was –

And now you’re –

And it’s all my fault!

You weren’t supposed to get hurt.

You weren’t supposed to be involved at all!

Why did you come here and ruin everything?!

Why didn’t I try to save you?!

Why did it have to be you?

Why am I the one left here at the end?!

I’m already rotting, why did the Goddess have to take you away too?!

I should have been the one to –

...

My Dearest

It appears that I have failed you more than I had thought.

I thought – I thought that you had perished alongside the rest of your village. I had never imagined that you had survived his attack.

But there you were, with Fair.

You’ve hardly changed in the last five years.

At first, I thought you were a delusion when I saw you under that tree. But then Fair spoke to you. You were too far gone to respond but you were there; close enough to touch for the first time in years.

Fair was kind enough to ignore me grasping your limb hand in a weak grip. I’m sure he had questions but was kind enough not to ask them during what he thought was my final moments.

But then he took you and left and I was captured and brought here. Shinra’s Deepground facility.

I hope Fair got you to wherever he was heading though it’s unlikely you survived the journey; but you’ve proven me wrong before, haven’t you?

Perhaps you’ll do so again?

If you do, I hope you can forgive me one day. I don’t think I’ll ever have the chance to ask you face to face.

I hope I can meet again in the next life.

I’m sorry for how things turned out Cloud.

Forever yours, in this life and the next

Genesis Rhapsodos

#my stories #fanfiction #fanfic #final fantasy vii #strifesodos #gencloud #Genesis Rhapsodos #cloud strife #this is a labour of love created from the dreaded block of the writer's #... i actually kinda like how it turned out #... even though it's probably a little awful #thank corrupt for the title #the file was literally called 'I'mBadAtTitles' when I sent it to him #Skyee Writes

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lawyernovelist · 8 years ago

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A Keeper’s Destiny (Spoilers)

So one of the things I do on Goodreads is sign up for a read-and-review program through which I get free electronic copies of books from the authors in exchange for honest reviews (and I've put my own book in the program too). This is one of those books.

Unfortunately.

Because if I hadn't been obliged to finish and review this book, I would have stopped after the first chapter, put it back on the (metaphorical) shelf, and never spoken of it again. Even if I'd struggled through from sheer pig-headedness, even past Chapter 8, which is nothing but a list of the ways in which our main character is special, I could not have made it past Chapter 16, in which she goes from merely slightly annoying to very annoying and the plot we were supposed to be getting vanishes utterly.

This was probably the worst overall reading experience I've ever had.

Spoilers for Lord of the Rings and the first Captain America movie, mild spoilers for The Hunger Games. Warning for passing mentions of torture and rape.

I hardly even know where to start, so, true to form, let's have a list:

The pacing was a mess

The structure was a mess

The worldbuilding made no sense

I could not stand the main character

I particularly didn't enjoy the way she was set up as if she was going to be asexual and then it turned out she just ~*~hadn't met the right boy~*~. Thanks.

Also, she was a howling Sue

So many infodumps

Pick a villain and stick to it, please?

For bonus points, pick a villain that doesn't suck

Let's begin at the beginning with pacing: Strict and prescriptive structure isn't always helpful, but by the end of the first chapter I do expect something to have happened. The first chapter of Keeper's Destiny introduced a few things, like Willow hearing voices and having mysterious magical helpers, and the Council, but they didn't seem to be going anywhere.

Compare Hunger Games, which the opening of Keeper's Destiny reminded me of. In both cases, we begin with the heroine waking up in her home in a poverty-stricken and oppressed community, and starting to go about her business: in Katniss' case hunting, in Willow's case harvesting vegetables. By the end of the first chapter of Hunger Games, I knew about Katniss' relationships with her mother and sister and a bit about the life she leads, which then tell me her motivations and drive her actions for the rest of the story. I also learn what's at stake for her in getting involved in the story and what the conflicts in her life are.

Willow, though? Chapter after chapter passed without anything for Willow. She seemed to have no drives, no conflict, no nothing. She just kind of gets on with her boring, hum-drum life. In the first four chapters, the biggest pieces of conflict in Willow's life are getting bullied by a stereotypical Mean Girl (Jade, who never ever rises above the stereotype of a blonde high school Queen Bee) and getting asked to a dance and then stood up.

This is why right from the beginning I knew I was in for a rough ride.

But OK, I mentioned that we get introduced to the Council. And these guys are clearly set up as the villains - they're introduced as keeping everyone in poverty, Jade is the daughter of the head of the Council and apparently all their teenage children act like she does, so OK.

Let's talk some more about structure. I've mentioned that the Council were set up as the villains. They're suck villains, but I'll come back to that. For now, OK, we've got the opening, these guys live in a pretty castle that nobody else is allowed to enter, while everyone else lives in run-down houses in a settlement of indeterminate size. They were set up as an oppressive government that enjoys luxury on the backs of the working classes and keeps them ignorant of the truths of their world and also of the superpowers of which they are capable.

I said back in my post on the villains of the Hobbit movies that there should be a protagonist-antagonist pair which is established good and early, and the beats of the story follow the conflict between the protagonist and the antagonist. We seem to have exactly this going on here: right in the first scene, we've set up the Council and Willow, and then we can move from there.

So this book is going to be about Willow leading her people in rebellion, right?

Ha-ha... no.

A bit of background: A chunk of the first half of the book is taken up with a rivalry between Willow and Jade, culminating in Jade using her superpower to get three boys to go to the dance with her, one of them being the boy who had originally asked Willow. This results in Willow being stood up. Jade is punished for this misuse of her powers (and I'm going to come back to this, incidentally, because it makes no sense that the entire world takes Willow's side here. Not that she doesn't deserve some support, it just makes no sense that she gets it given everything else that's been established) and somehow gets in contact with a handsome prince from another world who promises to take her away from all this and marry her if she tears open a rift between the worlds.

She does this and he comes through with an army, destroys most of the world, kills most of the Council, kidnaps as many survivors as he can find for torture, twirls his moustache, kicks a few puppies, steals candy from a passing baby, and so on.

All trace of Council-related conflict vanishes utterly, in favour of this asshole and his family being the new villains. Despite the fact that they had in no way been set up. Yes, I know, they had been vaguely alluded to in a legend told to the kids near the beginning, but that doesn't count.

I strongly suspect that King took a long break in the middle of writing this book, came back with a whole new idea of where the plot was going, and never actually edited to make it all fit together. The result is this horrendous disjoint and double plot. It feels like the plot with the Council should actually have just been the first three chapters or so of exposition, showing how we got to the point where Willow's world is destroyed in the actual plot, and it doesn't help that, as previously mentioned, the Council really aren't good villains.

Just to mop up the rest of the craft before I move on to that, the fact that there was absolutely no structure contributed in a big way to the very poor pacing. I've already said that the beginning was really boring, and it was made worse when it became clear that a lot of what was being set up would ultimately be pointless. Let me introduce you to why the first half of the book exists:

Willow's so likeable that everyone loves her!

Poor Willow, someone was mean to her!

Willow's SPECIAL, DAMMIT!

Here's a ridiculous amount of boringly-presented exposition, underlining how special Willow is.

This book might have been salvagable if the first half were condensed to a couple of chapters and the exposition moved later and spaced out more, so Jade's deal with the bad guy was part of the opening rather than halfway through and the antagonism between Willow and Jade is personal rather than being part of some class system that doesn't really work. We then get the invasion at the end of Act One and move on from there. Incidentally, I don't know where the series goes with these bad guys, but I could believe that if some of the padding was cut out this could be a one-shot.

Also, yeah, this story has a big Sue problem.

As that list suggests, there are also a lot of infodumps. Multiple scenes are visibly only there so that we can have a list of Willow's powers and worldbuilding facts that ultimately are just telling us Willow's powers and how she's going to save the world. And, speaking of those powers... welcome to Plot Contrivance Playhouse.

This wasn't entirely a problem with Willow. She had a lot of convenient powers, but the plot contrivance problem was much bigger with her friends and allies. Every single one of them developed a convenient and weirdly specific power right when it was needed. It earned an eye-roll the first time, with Willow's friend who can immediately learn the contents of a book and then transfer it to someone else (including teaching a whole new language in a second). How convenient - he can take a couple of days to learn the contents of a massive library and teach it to Willow with no actual effort required. And, by the way, she blatantly uses him for that ability. After it had happened a half dozen times - they need someone to run somewhere really fast; oh, it turns out one of Willow's friends can do that. Willow's in a coma; oh, it turns out one of her friends can go into dreams. Arg... it was infuriating.

What allergy did this book have to conflict? Like, actual conflict that actually causes problems?

I may have just answered my own question - if we included real conflict, it might cause Willow actual problems.

I'm inclined to tie this back to the structure - because there was no conflict, there could be no structure. The pacing couldn't be made to work because there was no conflict and no meat to it. It was just a series of things happening that reassured us of the specialness of one character, and then it stopped.

That's the final structure problem. Look, here's Freytag's pyramid, embarrassed though I am to raise something like this against such a piece of crap. Seriously, the Hobbit movies had more of a structure, due to the fact that they had to follow the skeleton of something that had structure.

(Source)

Well, the pyramid for Keeper's Destiny looked more like this:

Stuff is kind of building in the beginning and then CLIMAX OUT OF NOWHERE and then... some stuff is going on? Where's it going with this? And then... I think that's another climax so OK... and then we're building to something else and then it stops.

King says smugly in her own five-star review of the book on Goodreads that apparently some people just can't get the idea of a cliffhanger. First... No, I'm not going to say what I thought; I don't go after authors personally. That isn't nice. Even when it would be fair. Second, this was not a cliffhanger.

The ending of The Two Towers is a cliffhanger, and I choose that example because I think that was the kind of cliffhanger that King was going for. Two Towers ends with a statement that Frodo has been captured by orcs. That was the business of the last chapter, but it's also a pause in the action, so the break between books works. It actually is a moment when you can put down the book and take a breath and reach for the next one to see how that resolves.

This? Willow has met a cute boy and become obsessive over him, and then he goes out on his own and doesn't come back, and then one of Willow's friends has a vision of him being held prisoner and then the book ends.

As I said, Two Towers ended on a pause in the action in which everything was still unresolved. The situation had been set up, we knew who had captured Frodo, so we knew the stakes, and it made sense as a place to end. This? I meant what I drew in that structure: it's just started going up again. It's still in the middle of this new action. We don't know who has this character (I literally don't remember a thing about him, even his name) or what danger he's in; nothing's been established. Also, uh... why should I care?

We care about Frodo. Willow's Boyfriend is not a character and if he were shot in the head at the end of the first book it would make no difference because he has no memorable character or role. Wanting to see him rescued has none of the urgency that would make it a cliffhanger because we don't know what's going on, we don't care about the character, and, what's more, there's no reason to think Willow can't handle this with ease just as she has everything else.

So about that Sue identification.

As ever, I'm using my personal definition of a Sue: a character who is at the centre of the in-story world and who is never allowed to face negative consequences of her (in this case) actions. And it's not very often that I pick up on and positively identify a Sue while reading (or watching - the last one was Thorin), but damn.

OK, centre of the world first. The obvious thing is her frankly ludicrous power level. As a small child she could play host to multiple of these spirit guide things, which isn't normal. She's a Keeper, which means she has a whole load of enhanced physical abilities, as well as being the Chosen One and having a whole load of status. She is by far the most powerful person in any of the worlds that she visits.

Granted, she is a Keeper, and she's the only one we really see in this book. So it could be that she's not breaking the world with this; we just don't really have anything to compare her to. On the other hand... she is the only one we see, and her power level is so emphasised that I'm not prepared to give a lot of slack for that.

Anyway, the really big thing for her being at the centre of the world is the way the other characters treat her. For a start, the whole village love her and would do anything to make her happy (apart from the fact that apparently nobody thought to adopt her when her parents vanished when she was eight). She even says this at one point - that these people would do anything for her.

The example that comes to mind is the dress and jewellery made for her so she can go to the dance. This comes out of nowhere; there's no sign that anyone has any particular relationship with Willow, but when she gets asked to the dance everyone's falling over themselves to make her look as beautiful as possible, even defying the Council, who have been presented as having absolute power over people's lives. And... why? Why are they doing this? What's Willow to them? I mean, sure, do something nice for this orphan girl who provides all your vegetables, but the lengths they go to are unbelievable.

It's also pointless, because she doesn't go to the dance. Jade goes out of her way to seduce Willow's date so she gets stood up. And yes, this appears to be straight-up because she doesn't want Willow to have a nice time. Now, Jade does have a problem with Willow, especially since she wanted the things that had been made for Willow. Still, she goes to considerable lengths to emotionally hurt this one girl. And then her parents take Willow's side - her mother tells her off and says that Willow deserves to have one nice night. This is despite the fact that... who's Willow to them?

Well, they know she's very powerful because they're evidently smarter than she is. I actually didn't bring up the fact that, unlike all the other orphans, she wasn't sent to the orphanage because that is explained: Jade's father, the head of the council, says that he left her alone because she was so powerful and he essentially doesn't want to mess with her.

Dude... adopt her. Bring her into the castle and raise her as your own. She'd then be loyal to you and it backs up your claim that the reason you guys are in charge is because you have the best powers. "Look, everyone, when we find a child who's worthy of joining us, we take them in!". There's pretty much no downside for you, and it would make a much more interesting story.

Anyway, that is explained, and maybe that's why they're so solicitous of Willow, over their own otherwise-spoiled daughter? Well, that ain't the reasoning they give. If Jade's mother had told Jade that they need to keep Willow sweet so Jade shouldn't be picking on her, that would be fine. That wasn't the explanation. The explanation was that Jade shouldn't have been so mean to poor Willow. This from a member of the ruling class who has been introduced as keeping the people oppressed and in poverty because... reasons. By established social dynamics, she should have allowed Jade to grind Willow's face in the mud all she wanted, and also unleash some sort of horrible consequences on the people who had made Willow a prettier dress and jewels than they made for Jade.

Seriously, this makes no sense.

Anyway, I've only talked about the first half of the story. In the second half of the story she's been revealed as the Chosen One, so I guess it makes sense that everyone's paying attention to her, but this is where I segue over into consequences.

For most of the first half, Willow doesn't do anything for which she could expect consequences. We do at one point see her fail to have the daily supply of vegetables ready and she doesn't get in trouble like she said she would at the beginning of the book, but on the other hand when she returns she saves three people's lives, so it makes sense they'd let the late vegetables slide. I'll give her that.

So after the break in the plot she busts through into another world and is faced with a bunch of hostile military guys. She proceeds to give them sass and mild threats. And despite the fact that these guys have had a lot of experience of things coming through portals from other worlds and trying to kill them, she isn't shot. She continues to insult them, order them around, and generally mouth off to them for the rest of the book, and at no point does she face any kind of censure for that. In fact, she's right about everything she says and shames those who disagree with her.

By the way, just because it pissed me off: when we first meet Willow we're told that she has a full back-plate tattoo of two cats and their kittens. The voices in her head tell her that it's very important that this tattoo stay hidden and so she always makes a big effort to cover up. This means that I had some snarls for the people who custom-made a dress for her and made it backless: guys, you've known this girl all her life and she never wears clothes like that. She always covers up. But it's OK. Not only does Willow not feel the least bit uncomfortable in the dress, but it turns out that the tattoos can move. They just did it for the first time when she puts on the dress. How convenient! Otherwise Willow might have had to face a problem.

So that was a really quick overview, but I hope it explains why I think Willow was a raging Sue. But even leaving that aside, she was obnoxious.

For most of the first half of the book, she's all sweetness and light and kindness and the book keeps going out of its way to tell us what a saint she is and how much we should love her. And I don't; I just think she's a wet blanket with no personality, wants, drives, or motivation. And that's not good in a protagonist right out of the gate, but it also just... doesn't make her an appealing character. I'm sitting there looking at it and wishing she would do something. Do something or want something or... something. I don't know, maybe it's meant to be that she's been conditioned to be subservient and giving, so she can't bring herself to withhold what someone else wants, or maybe it's that people have always liked her, so someone disliking her is utterly outside her experience and feels horrible, but neither of those seem to make any sense.

And yeah, people have always liked her. As I mentioned, even the head of the Council is talking about how she deserves a nice evening at the dance and how horrible Jade is for spoiling that for her. To all appearances, nobody has ever said a cross word to or about Willow, or ever done anything to hurt her or make her life hard apart from Jade, and everyone hates Jade for it. So what the hell is up with Willow's attitude that she's the lowest of the low and isn't allowed to have anything nice if someone else wants it? I'm sure it could be made to make sense, but all we actually get is a feeling of "Oh, isn't she nice?"

No. She's a wet blanket. And has less personality than an actual wet blanket.

But you know what makes that suddenly very unpleasant? How fast that 'lowest of the low' thing vanishes once she realises that she's powerful. As soon as she realises that she's the chosen one and has crazy abilities, suddenly we see her barking orders and pushing people around.

Well, you can get the measure of a person very easily by seeing what they do with power.

OK, maybe this was supposed to be that once she realised she had power, that gave her confidence. Well, first, I'm not impressed when the only way she can get a backbone is to be handed more superpowers than the rest of the world combined. Second, and in another comparison to a good story, let's talk about Captain America. Specifically, the first Captain America movie. In that, we get something similar, where someone is given strength and power and is then able to go out and fight evil and save the world with renewed drive and confidence. The thing is that Steve Rogers already had a great deal of courage in a tight spot. That was the point: Good becomes Great, Bad becomes Worse. He gained confidence and physical ability, but the seeds were already there. It's just that now he was far better able to act on his instincts and achieve something.

Willow? Wettest of the wet blankets, apparently perfectly happy to just go on harvesting vegetables every day and never asking a single question about the world or her abilities... until she's handed a million superpowers and told she's the chosen one, and then she leaps right into exerting that power and authority to get what she wants. It doesn't give the impression of a hero, it gives the impression of a bully.

And that's all I have to say about that.

That's a lie, there's one more thing: Willow's friend Diana, a storyteller and book...seller (the story's not clear on whether she's a bookbinder, a writer, or a shopkeeper) who is actually described in the text as having "curves in all the right places" because FML. Now, I'll have more to say about Diana in a bit because there are a lot of problems with her, but right now I'd like to point out how her role in the story casts a really bad light on Willow.

So near the beginning Diana tells a bunch of kids a story about the legendary history of their world, which includes a ridiculously obvious rip-off of the story of the Garden of Eden because... I had to be punished somehow for continuing to read. This apparently pisses off the Council for reasons that don't make much sense.

It is explained, by the way: they don't want people to know about Guardians and other worlds and powers and so on and so forth, and this story deals with those in detail in order to set up for Willow being the Chosen One. The reason this doesn't make sense is that the existence of Guardians and portals between the worlds is not ancient history. King keeps acting like it is and life has been this way since time immemorial, but the Council in its current form appears to have been instituted within the lifetime of the teenage protagonist. In fact, if I remember correctly Willow's parents were Keepers. And yet none of the adults remember any of this stuff. This is never explained; the book just acts in one scene like the world has been this way for generations, and in the next says that these events involved Willow's parents and she was old enough to reasonably live alone.

That's why it doesn't make any sense for the Council to be going after Diana because She Has Revealed The Truth. The existence of Guardians and Keepers and so on is not an ancient legend that she's just discovered. This is like expecting everyone to have forgotten the invasion of Iraq! You can't pull this kind of crap with something in easy living memory.

Anyway, I've drifted from my point. The point is that because of all this, Diana gets arrested in the middle of the night and all her books get burned. Willow is distressed by this and lets Diana's grandson stay at her house, which works out great for her because he's the one with the power to download knowledge and transfer it directly into her head, so as soon as she's shown the way to the huge library she can just post him there to get everything she needs to know from it.

Diana, meanwhile, drops out of the story. Multiple chapters passed without Willow even thinking about her: someone who we're supposed to believe she's fond of and who she last saw being dragged off to jail. Just never thinks about her - she's too busy finding out all about her new powers and thinking about Jade stealing her date.

Well, that makes for an appealing protagonist.

Time to talk about villains, since I've talked about the Council a few times yet without ever expanding on why they suck. First of all, another Hunger Games comparison because I'm pretty sure King had a read of Hunger Games before writing at least the first part of this book. How the hell does the Council stay in power? You've got this societal structure where the Council allegedly rules the masses with an iron fist and lives in luxury while their people are living in shacks. Now, Willow can grow infinite food and apparently anyone can get anything they like just by asking, so starvation isn't a problem (and nor should poverty be, but I don't think this book would know an economic system if it paraded around the room with bagpipes and emus), and while there exist 'Guards', Diana's arrest is the only oppressive thing they ever do. We never hear about shows of force that might keep the people too scared to approach the castle, and it seems to be more decorative than defensive, and the Council have pretty non-martial powers, so why are people scared of them?

I'm pretty sure it's because the people of this world are utterly stupid and completely unimaginative, and have never even considered what would happen if they just, y'know, didn't do whatever the Council wanted.

Hunger Games did this right: very early, we get to hear about the massive coercive power at the Capitol's command. You defy these people and you suffer, no messing. Just by hunting to support her family, Katniss is taking her life in her hands. You can see why people do as they're told. What's more, because Hunger Games exists in a world where resources are scarce, there's a double threat: you don't do as you're told and keep your head down and work your fingers to the bone, you starve.

Willow, though? We get something at the beginning about how the Council disapproves of lateness, but what would actually happen if she stayed in bed? To all appearances, Jade would throw a tantrum. Who cares?

Well, Willow does, but that's because, as aforementioned, for the first chunk of this story Willow is the wettest wet blanket I have ever had the misfortune to encounter.

Anyway, villains.

The Council outright sucks as villains because of what I outlined there: they just plain don't do anything. There are no stakes, and that's just highlighted by the fact that Willow's not worried about Diana after she gets arrested. I'm left with a choice between Willow not giving a damn about the danger her friend is in and her friend being in absolutely no danger.

Frankly, I think it's both because arresting Diana is the only thing the Council ever does that might be seen as authoritarian. In fact, the very fact that she's still around to tell that story shows that the Council is a paper tiger: twelve units of time previously the Council had declared reading to be surplus to requirements and de jure outlawed her stories.

And not one single damn was given.

Diana still has her books, she still tells her stories, that fact is apparently pretty well-known, and yet the Council has never done a thing about her.

In fact, I almost question whether the Council was supposed to be evil, just because they seemed to be so non-threatening. I'm pretty sure they were because of the amount of emphasis on them keeping people ignorant of their powers and their own history (ignore how little sense it makes that they succeed, but I'll add to the history point that apparently nobody ever experiments on their own with how far they can push their powers, I assume because they're stupid), but they never really do anything.

Now, the ones who were definitely supposed to be clearly evil are the ones who came in and invaded. They're downright cartoonishly evil, as demonstrated by the evil prince's gleeful anticipation of raping young girls (including Jade, though she escapes into a plot hole to reappear later to say how wonderful Willow is and how wrong she was to ever do anything against her) and killing Jade's mother in front of her, mostly for funzies. And no, I don't appreciate the way that almost all his demonstration of evil is in the form of attacks on women and girls - the one human I remember seeing him torturing on-screen is also a woman.

So he and his forces come in, twirling their moustaches and trying to get their sinister black hoods to lie straight around their horns, and given how dull and sanitised everything's been so far, it's downright absurd. However, despite all that, they still don't work as villains. Know why? Because they have nothing to do with Willow.

Almost as soon as they invade, Willow flees into another world. She finds a Guardian they dumped through into another destroyed world and nurses it back to health, but apart from that she's occupied almost entirely with... stuff. Mostly demonstrating her powers and telling everyone what's what. And meeting A Boy.

Still don't appreciate the fact that she seemed to be being set up to be asexual (though I did raise an eyebrow at the long and detailed description she gave of Jade's beauty on her first introduction - I thought we might have been doing something interesting for a moment) and then she suddenly went completely dippy over this guy.

Anyway, we cut back to them from time to time, but it doesn't mean anything because it's got nothing to do with Our Heroes. They're engaging in dastardly plotting, and the prince character does try to attack Willow in her dreams at one point, but she and her friends never really seem to be in any real danger from them.

This could have been significantly improved if they'd captured one of her friends. It might also have given her some impetus to do anything about them rather than all the farting around she actually does. I say "might" with her indifference to Diana in mind.

As it is, though, there are no stakes; we know Willow and co. are safe and she clearly isn't worried and doesn't care about anything these people are doing.

And that really leaves us with no credible villains.

Finally, the worldbuilding, and then I'm done. Basically, this society makes no sense whatsoever.

There is apparently no economy, as everyone just makes and gives what anyone else wants without any talk of purchase or exchange, so I have no idea how wealth and poverty work in this place except that most people are poor and the Council is rich. Also, one household seems to be in charge of each craft or societal function, which means that there are more people (a couple) responsible for making jewellery (with massive gems that come from goodness knows where) than there are for growing food (one teenage girl).

Now, I'll admit that at first I thought it was absurd that we were supposed to believe that Willow and her sentient vegetable patch produce all the food required by the entire settlement, and she harvests an entire produce aisle from it every morning regardless of season. Now, there is an actual explanation: one of Willow's superpowers is that she can communicate with plants and make them grow, and she's been doing this pretty much unconsciously her whole life. This means that, indeed, her vegetable patch grows an entire produce aisle every day. So... I have to let King have that, but I don't have to let her have the fact that nobody around Willow, including Willow herself, has twigged that this is her power. Apparently nobody in-world had ever even wondered how one teenage girl with a vegetable patch can feed the whole town because... they're stupid.

Another thing was the orphanage, where the children of those who died in the war (except Willow) are basically shut in a room and forgotten, but I don't know what the next plan is for these kids. Many of them are now into their mid to late teens, and they're not being taught a trade, they're just... what? Heck, I get the impression they don't even have a food supply apart from Willow bringing them leftovers, and they're never mentioned after they've served their plot role.

The world never seems to have been developed past the immediate needs of the plot, which means that as soon as I look at it for a moment it falls apart. I have no idea how big the settlement is, whether they're all vegetarians or we just haven't been told about them eating anything but vegetables and bread, where raw materials come from, who maintains and cleans the castle, and generally how anything makes sense. Here's another one, which was a complete destruction of any remaining suspension of disbelief: Diana again.

So I mentioned that Diana's a bookseller or something. This is apparently her entire societal contribution. I also mentioned that the Council has declared reading surplus to requirements and now nobody reads any more despite the fact that they've only had this kind of power for about a decade. So... how does Diana still have a job? She apparently just spends her days sitting in a house full of books that nobody wants, and yet she can still support herself and her grandson more comfortably than Willow.

But the plot needed her to still have all these books, so she does. It's lame.

So that was a flaily overview of why I had such a terrible time with this book, and I apologise for the lack of my usual calm analysis and explanation. I got nothing. Short version: it sucked.

#C A King #Portal Prophecies #2016 reads #review #reading

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jaxxonpollux · 6 years ago

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notes for vivien during her leave of absence v2

“how’s mammon crossing over, you half-breed piece of shit?”

sorry, i’m watching constantine right now and keanu reeves just said that. it smacks of our old fave “hey pee brain, can you teleport?” this is a hilarious movie! now he’s punching a devil guy in a suit using gold brass knuckles with little crosses etched into them.

again, i’m writing this for you because, well, i’ve got nothing left to do. it has been 15 days since i’ve heard from you, and apparently i’m the kind of person who cannot handle that kind of thing. it’s not as bad as it was the last time, when you were in the hospital, because now i just assume you’re in the hospital. which is horrible! i want to know your room number so i can come see you! i have the day off tomorrow, i could do it. i hate being in the dark, i just wish i had something to grasp onto. and i really do hope you’re ok and come back. i hope you didn’t hurt yourself. that’s my main worry, i didn’t do enough to prevent that, i desperately wanted you to come to me if you ever felt depressed enough to do anything. i hope nothing sent you over the edge. i hope b isn’t making things hard and miserable. and, selfishly, i hope that if you’re not talking to me, you’re not talking to anyone else either. as ugly as that sounds. i always have that gnawing in the back of my head, that i’m the only one that’s being blocked out, i did something wrong, i’m not good enough, blah blah, you have all new secret facebooks and instagrams and tumblrs that specifically avoid me. just typing that makes me feel and sound like a crazy person! you’ve told me about guys that used to be crazy over you before, like that kid in ireland who would cut off his fingers and send them to you in the mail or whatever. i mean, he had his own whole set of problems, but i wonder if this is the kind of thing that makes dudes crazy for you? just stewing in their own heads like this

i promise i won’t do anything crazy. i’m patience incarnate. i’m here when you need me. i’m not an obsessed boyfriend. i’ll be ready when you come back, if you ever come back. i’ll probably move on if lightning strikes me again, but that doesn’t happen very often. i’ll always care for you in a platonic sense, even if i’m married with 10 kids or addicted to crack cocaine out on the streets or whatever. even if i don’t talk to you again for another 10 years. 20 years. we’ve always been on this weird twin flame cycle anyway, like we happened to come into contact right when our lives were the same! and now the planets are quietly drifting out of alignment again and we’re in different places. that’s ok. i’m still here and i’ll still grow, even if i sorely miss you.

one crazy thing: i did have a weird experience with what i thought of as “your ghost,” or your energy, something along those lines. i really hope it isn’t a pisces intuition thing. i was lying in bed in the dark about five days ago, and i felt like you were there, wrapping your arms around me from behind. i could feel you and smell you, i remembered the way your bones and your breasts felt. it was like an echo. and it wasn’t a dream; it was like a shiver. that’s why i was worried it was you in ghost form, giving a hug farewell. i really hope you aren’t dead. you should have at least written me a fucking note if you’re going to be dead.

had a similar feeling the other night too, but i think it was just a very realistic sex dream, like something that gets pulled back up out of your subconscious. it’s weird how memories work that way in dreams sometimes. and then i was at work yesterday...um scooping muffin batter, i think, and i kept seeing a shadow out of the corner of my eye, and i thought “gasp, it’s vivien! trying to communicate through the astral plane!” but then i thought maybe it was just a mouse. then i thought it was just my reflection on some metal bars. this was after a long series of days of getting little to no sleep every night, so my brain was ready to go just about anywhere.

but i have been working a ton. a lot of 12+ hour days. a lot of naps. i’ve been meaning to write something like this for like a week actually, but i never got around to it. i’d constantly think of something or see something i’d want to share with you, but i’m getting sick of texting you and giving you a backlog of disjointed garbage to read, i don’t think you like that kind of thing. it’s hard to share things with someone when you’re not sure if you’re being purposefully ignored or whatever. like, i don’t want to come off as a complete fool. so a lot of vivien thoughts come and go. but every day at like, 5am, when i would be walking into work, i’d write a mental list of all the things i would tell you. dumb things, like dreams i’d have. billboards. i even got into the habit of writing in my iphone notes like you do. let’s see what i have there actually...

“michael kors bought versace for 2.1 bil”

just thought it was wacky, like a faux high end brand purchasing an actual high end brand. or maybe they’re both the same. i mean, clearly they are now

“dream about my dad strangling my old baking teacher, only to have her revive”

i actually remember this one a little bit. i was living at my old dad’s house, and found my pastry teacher dead under his bed (which is already ridiculous because he sleeps in a waterbed but anyway). when i inquired, he was sort of flippant, like “oh yeah, i woke up from a nightmare in sort of a haze and just ended up strangling her.” and my reaction to this news was like, extremely furious, like i was yelling and throwing things and saying things like “YOU CAN’T LIVE HERE” and i eventually banished him from the house, feeling very vindicated about it too. “taking out the trash,” as it were. anyway, the next day i was “getting off the schoolbus,” and i saw my pastry teacher alive and well, corralling a bunch of students. which led me to think that she was undead, like a vampire or something. then i woke up

see, i don’t know why i want to share things like this with you. usually when people tell me about their really convoluted dreams like this, i just kind of zone out. victoria has a lot of boring dreams like this, ones that don’t have anything to do with anything, they just reflect like, social anxiety or something.

“man with man bun and skydiver clothes in wheelchair talking angrily on the phone with a trombone in his lap”

this is actually a guy i saw like, an hour ago when i was down on campus getting food for my mom and myself. i believe he’s what the tumblr kids would call “chaotic energy.” i don’t remember what he was talking about, on the phone. something about not being able to work at the tollbooth. or parking garage. shrug.

i can’t think of anything else i wanted to tell you. a lot of things have come and gone that are just stale by now. erased from my morning vivien diary. like we had a few dinners for a group called “the lions” last weekend, which is one of those clubs or guilds or whatever, like the masons. it’s just a lot of sourpuss old men, at least from the perspective of a food service professional. people complaining that they got the vegan cookie desserts instead of the Lovingly Prepared disgusting sugar free brownies i spent two days preparing, either because they sat at the wrong table, or because the idiot temp servers we hire don’t understand what dietary restriction means. then before you know it, you’re in hour 13 of the day, piling up plates full of caramel corn because for whatever reason ten tables didn’t get any desserts at all. as one girl i work with is known to say, “i don’t have answers, brian.”

i’ll write more in here as things come to me. i’ll make a concerted effort now that i have it started, anyway. i’m sure your life has still been moving on, which is good, given that you’re not hospitalized or dead! like i’m sure you’re making plans to get your stuff back from new york, live with that ogre marxist guy for a few days, yada yada. i feel bad for being upset with you that time you asked for money. i don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me for things. i’m just...always wary of pitfalls. i wanted you to really love me, and i really didn’t want to be another guy story for the next guy. that’s just how it happens, though, huh?

i do think about that too, way back when you told me b was using you a lot in his writing, in his stories, making characters based off of you, borrowing your experiences and such. or early on when i’d ask you to tell me about guys you’d been with, and then you’d tell me a story and in my head i’d have the guy all sorted out. like i wouldn’t know them personally, but i’d know like, what they’re about, and i’d just wrap them all up in a neat tidy package. like a chapter in a book. i hope you never tell anyone else about me, after you’ve moved on and have me all figured out. i try to avoid that kind of thing when people ask about you, i’m very vague, or find a way to drop the subject. victoria is always so frustrated because she doesn’t have anything to ridicule you about when she’s jealous, she just knows i spend a lot of time with you and i’m very defensive when it comes to talking about your character or your personality.

it’s gonna be a tough day if i ever have to put you into a box for a girlfriend down the road, i honestly don’t know how i’ll describe you. in a way that depicts The Way We Are With Each Other, i mean. like, the details just add up in really zany ways “well, she was married to this guy in new york and had just gotten out of the loony bin when we started talking, but i knew her from this stupid website called tumblr, we talked a lot about like, dolphin handjobs and donald trump and such, oh she really liked britcoms and thought i was callous, she read my palm in a hotel room once and she was very pretty with big blue eyes and kind of walked like she was falling forward, she’s the reason why i drink wine and she was supposed to give me a tattoo but we never found the time, anyway she’s dead now, tell me about yourself!” i’ll do my best to omit you, i think. it’s probably what you’d want, just like how i’d want for myself. god, why do i keep talking like you’re dead? please don’t be dead!!! i hope you’re back for halloween at the least, i always imagined that that’s when you are at your very best

to be continued, probably

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

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14 District 2 is a large district, as one might expect, composed of a series of villages spread across the mountains. Each was originally associated with a mine or quarry, although now, many are devoted to the housing and training of Peacekeepers. None of this would present much of a challenge, since the rebels have 13's airpower on their side, except for one thing: At the center of the district is a virtually impenetrable mountain that houses the heart of the Capitol's military. We've nicknamed the mountain the Nut since I relayed Plutarch's "tough nut to crack" comment to the weary and discouraged rebel leaders here. The Nut was established directly after the Dark Days, when the Capitol had lost 13 and was desperate for a new underground stronghold. They had some of their military resources situated on the outskirts of the Capitol itself - nuclear missiles, aircraft, troops - but a significant chunk of their power was now under an enemy's control. Of course, there was no way they could hope to replicate 13, which was the work of centuries. However, in the old mines of nearby District 2, they saw opportunity. From the air, the Nut appeared to be just another mountain with a few entrances on its faces. But inside were vast cavernous spaces where slabs of stones had been cut, hauled to the surface, and transported down slippery narrow roads to make distant buildings. There was even a train system to facilitate transporting the miners from the Nut to the very center of the main town in District 2. It ran right to the square that Peeta and I visited during the Victory Tour, standing on the wide marble steps of the Justice Building, trying not to look too closely at Cato's and Clove's grieving families assembled below us. It was not the most ideal terrain, plagued as it was by mudslides, floods, and avalanches. But the advantages outweighed the concerns. As they'd cut deep into the mountain, the miners had left large pillars and walls of stone to support the infrastructure. The Capitol reinforced these and set about making the mountain their new military base. Filling it with computer banks and meeting rooms, barracks and arsenals. Widening entrances to allow the exit of hovercraft from the hangar, installing missile launchers. But on the whole, leaving the exterior of the mountain largely unchanged. A rough, rocky tangle of trees and wildlife. A natural fortress to protect them from their enemies. By the other districts' standards, the Capitol babied the inhabitants here. Just by looking at the District 2 rebels, you can tell they were decently fed and cared for in childhood. Some did end up as quarry and mine workers. Others were educated for jobs in the Nut or funneled into the ranks of Peacekeepers. Trained young and hard for combat. The Hunger Games were an opportunity for wealth and a kind of glory not seen elsewhere. Of course, the people of 2 swallowed the Capitol's propaganda more easily than the rest of us. Embraced their ways. But for all that, at the end of the day, they were still slaves. And if that was lost on the citizens who became Peacekeepers or worked in the Nut, it was not lost on the stonecutters who formed the backbone of the resistance here. Things stand as they did when I arrived two weeks ago. The outer villages are in rebel hands, the town divided, and the Nut is as untouchable as ever. Its few entrances heavily fortified, its heart safely enfolded in the mountain. While every other district has now wrested control from the Capitol, 2 remains in its pocket. Each day, I do whatever I can to help. Visit the wounded. Tape short propos with my camera crew. I'm not allowed in actual combat, but they invite me to the meetings on the status of the war, which is a lot more than they did in 13. It's much better here. Freer, no schedules on my arm, fewer demands on my time. I live aboveground in the rebel villages or surrounding caves. For safety's sake, I'm relocated often. During the day, I've been given clearance to hunt as long as I take a guard along and don't stray too far. In the thin, cold mountain air, I feel some physical strength returning, my mind clearing away the rest of the fogginess. But with this mental clarity comes an even sharper awareness of what has been done to Peeta. Snow has stolen him from me, twisted him beyond recognition, and made me a present of him. Boggs, who came to 2 when I did, told me that even with all the plotting, it was a little too easy to rescue Peeta. He believes if 13 hadn't made the effort, Peeta would've been delivered to me anyway. Dropped off in an actively warring district or perhaps 13 itself. Tied up with ribbons and tagged with my name. Programmed to murder me. It's only now that he's been corrupted that I can fully appreciate the real Peeta. Even more than I would've if he'd died. The kindness, the steadiness, the warmth that had an unexpected heat behind it. Outside of Prim, my mother, and Gale, how many people in the world love me unconditionally? I think in my case, the answer may now be none. Sometimes when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena. To make myself put a name to the thing I've lost. But what's the use? It's gone. He's gone. Whatever existed between us is gone. All that's left is my promise to kill Snow. I tell myself this ten times a day. Back in 13, Peeta's rehabilitation continues. Even though I don't ask, Plutarch gives me cheerful updates on the phone like "Good news, Katniss! I think we've almost got him convinced you're not a mutt!" Or "Today he was allowed to feed himself pudding!" When Haymitch gets on after, he admits Peeta's no better. The only dubious ray of hope has come from my sister. "Prim came up with the idea of trying to hijack him back," Haymitch tells me. "Bring up the distorted memories of you and then give him a big dose of a calming drug, like morphling. We've only tried it on one memory. The tape of the two of you in the cave, when you told him that story about getting Prim the goat." "Any improvement?" I ask. "Well, if extreme confusion is an improvement over extreme terror, then yes," says Haymitch. "But I'm not sure it is. He lost the ability to speak for several hours. Went into some sort of stupor. When he came out, the only thing he asked about was the goat." "Right," I say. "How's it out there?" he asks. "No forward motion," I tell him. "We're sending out a team to help with the mountain. Beetee and some of the others," he says. "You know, the brains." When the brains are selected, I'm not surprised to see Gale's name on the list. I thought Beetee would bring him, not for his technological expertise, but in the hopes that he could somehow think of a way to ensnare a mountain. Originally, Gale offered to come with me to 2, but I could see I was tearing him away from his work with Beetee. I told him to sit tight and stay where he was most needed. I didn't tell him his presence would make it even more difficult for me to mourn Peeta. Gale finds me when they arrive late one afternoon. I'm sitting on a log at the edge of my current village, plucking a goose. A dozen or so of the birds are piled at my feet. Great flocks of them have been migrating through here since I've arrived, and the pickings are easy. Without a word, Gale settles beside me and begins to relieve a bird of its feathers. We're through about half when he says, "Any chance we'll get to eat these?" "Yeah. Most go to the camp kitchen, but they expect me to give a couple to whoever I'm staying with tonight," I say. "For keeping me." "Isn't the honor of the thing enough?" he says. "You'd think," I reply. "But word's gotten out that mockingjays are hazardous to your health." We pluck in silence for a while longer. Then he says, "I saw Peeta yesterday. Through the glass." "What'd you think?" I ask. "Something selfish," says Gale. "That you don't have to be jealous of him anymore?" My fingers give a yank, and a cloud of feathers floats down around us. "No. Just the opposite." Gale pulls a feather out of my hair. "I thought...I'll never compete with that. No matter how much pain I'm in." He spins the feather between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't stand a chance if he doesn't get better. You'll never be able to let him go. You'll always feel wrong about being with me." "The way I always felt wrong kissing him because of you," I say. Gale holds my gaze. "If I thought that was true, I could almost live with the rest of it." "It is true," I admit. "But so is what you said about Peeta." Gale makes a sound of exasperation. Nonetheless, after we've dropped off the birds and volunteered to go back to the woods to gather kindling for the evening fire, I find myself wrapped in his arms. His lips brushing the faded bruises on my neck, working their way to my mouth. Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me. Or I'll never go back to him. I'll stay in 2 until it falls, go to the Capitol and kill Snow, and then die for my trouble. And he'll die insane and hating me. So in the fading light I shut my eyes and kiss Gale to make up for all the kisses I've withheld, and because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it. Gale's touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body's still alive, and for the moment it's a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. "Katniss," he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. "Now kiss me." Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly. He examines my face closely. "What's going on in your head?" "I don't know," I whisper back. "Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count," he says with a weak attempt at a laugh. He scoops up a pile of kindling and drops it in my empty arms, returning me to myself. "How do you know?" I say, mostly to cover my embarrassment. "Have you kissed someone who's drunk?" I guess Gale could've been kissing girls right and left back in 12. He certainly had enough takers. I never thought about it much before. He just shakes his head. "No. But it's not hard to imagine." "So, you never kissed any other girls?" I ask. "I didn't say that. You know, you were only twelve when we met. And a real pain besides. I did have a life outside of hunting with you," he says, loading up with firewood. Suddenly, I'm genuinely curious. "Who did you kiss? And where?" "Too many to remember. Behind the school, on the slag heap, you name it," he says. I roll my eyes. "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?" "No. About six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded," he tells me. I remember that day. Bitter cold and dark by four in the afternoon. We'd been hunting, but a heavy snow had driven us back into town. The Hob was crowded with people looking for refuge from the weather. Greasy Sae's soup, made with stock from the bones of a wild dog we'd shot a week earlier, was below her usual standards. Still, it was hot, and I was starving as I scooped it up, sitting cross-legged on her counter. Darius was leaning on the post of the stall, tickling my cheek with the end of my braid, while I smacked his hand away. He was explaining why one of his kisses merited a rabbit, or possibly two, since everyone knows redheaded men are the most virile. And Greasy Sae and I were laughing because he was so ridiculous and persistent and kept pointing out women around the Hob who he said had paid far more than a rabbit to enjoy his lips. "See? The one in the green muffler? Go ahead and ask her.If you need a reference." A million miles from here, a billion days ago, this happened. "Darius was just joking around," I say. "Probably. Although you'd be the last to figure out if he wasn't," Gale tells me. "Take Peeta. Take me. Or even Finnick. I was starting to worry he had his eye on you, but he seems back on track now." "You don't know Finnick if you think he'd love me," I say. Gale shrugs. "I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things." I can't help thinking that's directed at me. Bright and early the next morning, the brains assemble to take on the problem of the Nut. I'm asked to the meeting, although I don't have much to contribute. I avoid the conference table and perch in the wide windowsill that has a view of the mountain in question. The commander from 2, a middle-aged woman named Lyme, takes us on a virtual tour of the Nut, its interior and fortifications, and recounts the failed attempts to seize it. I've crossed paths with her briefly a couple of times since my arrival, and was dogged by the feeling I'd met her before. She's memorable enough, standing over six feet tall and heavily muscled. But it's only when I see a clip of her in the field, leading a raid on the main entrance of the Nut, that something clicks and I realize I'm in the presence of another victor. Lyme, the tribute from District 2, who won her Hunger Games over a generation ago. Effie sent us her tape, among others, to prepare for the Quarter Quell. I've probably caught glimpses of her during the Games over the years, but she's kept a low profile. With my newfound knowledge of Haymitch's and Finnick's treatment, all I can think is: What did the Capitol do to her after she won? When Lyme finishes the presentation, the questions from the brains begin. Hours pass, and lunch comes and goes, as they try to come up with a realistic plan for taking the Nut. But while Beetee thinks he might be able to override certain computer systems, and there's some discussion of putting the handful of internal spies to use, no one has any really innovative thoughts. As the afternoon wears on, talk keeps returning to a strategy that has been tried repeatedly - the storming of the entrances. I can see Lyme's frustration building because so many variations of this plan have already failed, so many of her soldiers have been lost. Finally, she bursts out, "The next person who suggests we take the entrances better have a brilliant way to do it, because you're going to be the one leading that mission!" Gale, who is too restless to sit at the table for more than a few hours, has been alternating between pacing and sharing my windowsill. Early on, he seemed to accept Lyme's assertion that the entrances couldn't be taken, and dropped out of the conversation entirely. For the last hour or so, he's sat quietly, his brow knitted in concentration, staring at the Nut through the window glass. In the silence that follows Lyme's ultimatum, he speaks up. "Is it really so necessary that we take the Nut? Or would it be enough to disable it?" "That would be a step in the right direction," says Beetee. "What do you have in mind?" "Think of it as a wild dog den," Gale continues. "You're not going to fight your way in. So you have two choices. Trap the dogs inside or flush them out." "We've tried bombing the entrances," says Lyme. "They're set too far inside the stone for any real damage to be done." "I wasn't thinking of that," says Gale. "I was thinking of using the mountain." Beetee rises and joins Gale at the window, peering through his ill-fitting glasses. "See? Running down the sides?" "Avalanche paths," says Beetee under his breath. "It'd be tricky. We'd have to design the detonation sequence with great care, and once it's in motion, we couldn't hope to control it." "We don't need to control it if we give up the idea that we have to possess the Nut," says Gale. "Only shut it down." "So you're suggesting we start avalanches and block the entrances?" asks Lyme. "That's it," says Gale. "Trap the enemy inside, cut off from supplies. Make it impossible for them to send out their hovercraft." While everyone considers the plan, Boggs flips through a stack of blueprints of the Nut and frowns. "You risk killing everyone inside. Look at the ventilation system. It's rudimentary at best. Nothing like what we have in Thirteen. It depends entirely on pumping in air from the mountainsides. Block those vents and you'll suffocate whoever is trapped." "They could still escape through the train tunnel to the square," says Beetee. "Not if we blow it up," says Gale brusquely. His intent, his full intent, becomes clear. Gale has no interest in preserving the lives of those in the Nut. No interest in caging the prey for later use. This is one of his death traps.

#Mockingjay

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