#No rusty brown field marks remember!!!

[filurig]

a longgg overdue new arvo reference for his basilisk form... he no longer symmetrical!

[the-night-night-owl]

The 3:63 train to nowhere

I woke up. The bench was hard and the mist soaked my hair as I sat in the station. I had not been there for long, not long at all, but the mist had already seeped through my clothes and now moistened my skin.

I began to shift, to stand up, but thought better of it. After all, it surely would not be long until my train arrived. I had been sitting here for a long time. My train? I did not know its name- how would I know which one to board? Then again, there was only one track that went through that decrepit station. It winded and curved, left then right, up then down, throughout the station. It was a rusty old thing, all sharp edges and brown curves, surely it could only take one train?

Nether the less, I began to search for my ticket. Perhaps it would have some clue as to which train I was trying to get. I consider that, surely, I would of specified my location when purchasing the ticket. But as my mind drifts back to my memory of the purchase, all I can remember is staring at a blank-eyed staff member, covered in a thick black coat before they gestured at the open gate. I must of purchased a ticket, they would of not let me in otherwise.

My thoughts were interrupted by an announcement over the loud-speakers. They announced that a train was entering the platform. To stand back from the edge. That the three-sixty-three train to nowhere had arrived. It was a surprisingly modern affair. The train was a sleek and streamlined  prism, ending in a point. It was painted a dull grey, but even from a distance I could see flecks of old paint underneath its newest coating, and touches of rust at its edges.

The train doors opened with a pop and feeling I had no choice, I stepped onto the train. As I sat down, I noticed a thick rain was pouring down the windows almost vertically. Even so, as the train jerked into motion, I tried to look get a last glance at the station we had now left. The rain was thick, but I noticed two things before my view disappeared. I saw the bench I had been sitting and how there was a thick imprint of a man into the wood and I saw the loud-speakers that had announced the trains arrival. I saw how the speakers were cracked and falling apart and I saw how the wires that had connected them to a power supply had long since rusted to dust.

I began to panic. I was stuck on the train now and could do nothing but wait. To calm myself down, I decided to look out of the window, in the hope that the landscape would calm me down. I pulled on a handle on the glass and the window fell back. Instead of the cold air and colder fields or suburbs I was expecting, a desert stretched out before me. Despite the hot wind slamming my face, I stuck my head as far out of the window as I could, hoping to see some signs of civilisation.

Instead, the sand simply stretched on forever. All I saw were a hundred, hundred dunes. Each one so similar to the next that the only things that showed I was moving at all was the air whipping my face.

Suddenly we were over a ridge and for a single instant I saw a man sitting beside the tracks. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunk and even at a distance I could count any one of his ribs. Despite the heat, despite the fact that no water had obviously been in that land for centuries, water still ran vertically down the train. Despite the clear skies, I could still hear the telltale pitter-patter of rain on the roof. It was for this “rain” that the man reached out for. Seconds later there was a thump and a new colour appeared on the windows. A thin red smear that went from one window to the next, far, far down the train.

I just sat there, head halfway outside the window, until a persistent clicking got my attention. I turned my head, fully expecting some horrible monster, but instead I saw a young woman pulling down on a red cord. Decrepit and faded though the sign next to it was, I could read the letters marked in bold inscribed on the wall next to the cord. Of course, it was the emergency stop!

She had probably seen what had happened to the old man and was pulling on it to get help! I was saved! I realised that I was not only the only one watching her pull on the rope. There was an old man walking down the aisle of seats, dragging a broken leg behind him. He turned his head, first to the woman, then to me. As he limped past me, I heard him whisper, “it’s been cut”. I realised he was right. The line had frayed with decay, much like the loud-speakers wire, into nothingness. I began to cry and through my tears I saw the old man crawl through a window. It was small, far too small for his frame. I heard his bone crack and crumble as he pushed through the window and I heard a crack as the through himself onto the tracks.

This time, there was no red smear on the windows.

Before I had time to process any of this, the lights flashed on and off, before going completely dark. Almost as if we had entered a tunnel.

Then I heard a single sentence. Two words that sent shivers down my spine. “Tickets please!”. The lights flashed back on, illuminating the woman still pulling on her cord and the man standing in front of me. He was wearing an old-fashioned purple conductors uniform, clashing terribly with the neo-modern surroundings. The man was not tall, but not short either. Both of his hands were in this pocket. It was for this reason that he did not slick back his hair, he did not hold his clipboard close to his chest and toward me expectantly, he did not tap the chair in front of him impatiently. He could not of, his hands were in his pockets and he only had the two.

The ticket collector impatiently asked for my ticket again and I began to explain that I had no such ticket, that I had been given one. “Nonsense”, he replied “I can see it in your coat!”. He spoke in a nasally voice, high pitched and almost comical. It distracted me, but even so I felt the train begin to slow down. The rain, which had for so long been crawling along the windows faltered and out of the window I could see a normal station. There was the hustle and bustle of people, the food-sellers and cheap flower stalls.

I re-iterated that I had no ticket and the Ticket Collector said that all he needed was for me to give it to him and we could both be on our way. Then, but a second later, the ticket collector reached forward. He did not even give me the chance to scream as he reached through my sodden clothing, now dry as a bone, through skin and flesh and bone and skin again, right through me, before grabbing something and pulling it through me once more.

My vison began to fade, the lights began to dim and all the colours in the world became pale. The last thing I saw before it all faded to black was the Inspectors purple uniform and the last thing I heard was his nasally voice, “That wasn’t so hard, was it? All you needed was to give me your ticket”.

I woke up. The bench was hard and the mist soaked my hair as I sat in the station. And over the Tanoy I heard a single statement. “Please step away from the Gap. The Three-Sixty-Three train to nowhere has arrived.”

And in his room, his alarm began to ring. It rung and it rung and it rung. Hours stretched into days which stretched into weeks. After three such weeks, the alarm stopped. But it did not once wake him. For her was far, far away, on a lonely platform, boarding a train to nowhere.

[goldenkookietae]

Love Borrowed (M) | KNJ

BTS One shot

Pairing: Musician!Namjoon x reader

Word count: 7,011 words

Warnings: fluff, cute, excessive love for books (not really a warning but idk), little heartbreak(?), smut

Summary: It’s been a long time since you’ve visited the local library. But when you do, you didn’t expect to bump into Kim Namjoon, a book lover just like you. When you start spending all of your time together, you realise that maybe everything in those romantic novels you loved could actually happen in real life.

A/N: Omg, I just added this one to my personal favourites and I am so surprised that I was able to finish this faster than my other ones. Anything that crosses your mind while reading this, comment or send me an ask! Hope y’all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: This story is an AU fan fiction that I have created using the names of the members of BTS. I do not claim any ownership over the members of BTS. The plot and the personalities of the characters are entirely my own.

Do not plagiarise my work and do not repost.

*

Moodboard

*I do not claim ownership over any of the pictures. They are credited to their original owners.

Stepping out of the house that day felt different. No one was giving her worried stares, no one was trying to convince her to stay home and no one had so far, looked at her with pitiful eyes. Y/N felt free after a very long time. It wasn’t as though the people around her were very controlling, not at all. It was just something everyone did while looking out for their loved ones.

A soft breeze ruffled her hair, stray strands moving to cover her face as she walked down the road she knew like the back of her hand. Pushing them behind her ear, she sighed in content, her eyes locking onto her destination. A small village where everyone knew each other, and everything was just a walk away. Nothing had changed much, except for her.

The local library was an old building, not the most famous, only recalled by youngsters struggling with assignments and a few rare people with a penchant for reading. That was why she was there that day, a familiar feeling of comfort settling into her bones as she entered the brick building. There were only about five people inside, maybe a few more in between the shelves, but she could see only students sitting in different corners, for what Y/N assumed was more focus.

The walls were lined with huge shelves of books, some old and rusty, some stained and a few looking brand new which were definitely added recently. Y/N usually preferred books that had a used feel to them, it was somehow better than the stiff pages of books never touched before. The yellow pages gave her an odd sense of relief and unlike other book lovers, she enjoyed marking her books and dog-earing the pages.

The old lady who usually looked over the library was missing that day, but it was evident that no one ever stole anything from the place. People had a sense of trust there, remembering to return books and making sure they were put back in the right shelf. In a way, that was the respect the old lady had earned from the visitors through the years of manning the place.

Y/N stopped in front of a shelf randomly, inspecting the spines of books trying to choose which ones she could take home. The shelves went up as high as the roof (which was actually pretty low) and Y/N was suddenly reminded of the library at Hogwarts. Chucking the Harry Potter books into the must-read list, her gaze went higher, and she came across a book that looked more like a diary, thick brown leather and a tie going around it and disappearing behind. Curiously, she pulled a ladder towards herself and climbed up slowly, clutching the shelves to keep herself steady. As soon as her hands caught the spine, she quickly came down, knowing she might just topple off being the clumsy person that she was.

“Hi.” She jerked when the voice sounded much too loud in the silence of the library, turning around and being faced with a broad chest. Blushing, she looked up at the person, and the first thing she noticed was a dimpled smile. Glasses drooped from the bridge of his nose as he tilted down to look at her. His brown hair fell to the top of his ears, lightly parted in the middle to give a glimpse of his forehead.

This man was beautiful. Even more so when he raised his eyebrows at her and touched her arm lightly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He muttered and Y/N shook her head smiling.

“No, I was just surprised that’s all.”  She said, holding her book tighter to her chest and squeezing it lightly.

“I’m Namjoon. I’m new here.” He held out his hand and Y/N took it immediately, gripping his warm hand and giving it a light shake.

“Y/N.” She said, and when she was about to pull back, Namjoon caught her hand and jiggled it quickly, then swung their hands side to side. To most it might’ve looked weird but Y/N recognised it immediately.

“No one has ever given me a Narnian handshake before.” She laughed and Namjoon followed. It was surprising that this small reference to a movie she’d watched as a kid brought about a burst of comfort while she was in the presence of this stranger, because they were still swinging their hands and neither one of them felt awkward about it.

And that was the beginning of their friendship, that would soon turn into more. Over the next week, they visited the library often, and in between those days, the excitement that came with going to the library shifted from the love of books to the loving company of each other. Y/N found herself struggling to remain silent at times, trying to hide her giggles at the goofy faces Namjoon made from across the shelves.

They fell into a routine of reading, picking a book as soon as they came in and competing as to who would finish their book sooner. The next day, they would exchange their books and the battle for the fastest reader began all over again. Once both were done, they would review each one, telling each other their favourite parts and their interpretations of the how the author meant to deliver certain lines.

Y/N wished she could do this all her life. She was starting to lose these battles, often opting to stare at the man across her than the letters in her book. The book was definitely interesting, and on any other day, she would’ve been so immersed in it that she would skip her meals. But that day, Kim Namjoon, who was reading, sat on the floor across her, his hair tucked into a beret, glasses sitting low on his nose and his back leaning against the shelf, legs crossed and the evening sun casting a golden glow upon him - he, had all her attention. Y/N watched him from the top of her book as his lips lifted into a small smile at what she assumed was a good part in the book. She would definitely hear all about it later from him and she wouldn’t dare forget.

How could this man be so beautiful? How could he, who she barely knew anything about apart from the fact that he loved reading and was a hopeless romantic just like her, be so attracted to him? So much that he was all she could think about every second of the day.

Before she could decide to look away, Namjoon’s gaze abruptly shifted to her and in that moment she froze, her eyes not leaving his and accepting the fact that he’d caught her staring. This happened much too often these days, when they’d pick their books and accidentally catch each other on opposite sides, or when they were both reaching for the same book.

Y/N still couldn’t forget the one time that she’d caught him staring at her while she was reading a Sherlock Holmes mystery. They both knew she’d caught him, but Namjoon had played it off as something so normal, going so far as to pull her bottom lip from between her teeth and telling her, “You look adorable when you read.”

Her cheeks blushed a furious red every time she remembered that day and it didn’t get any better when such compliments became more frequent.

Her heart thumped when Namjoon got up and walked over to her, sitting so close to her that their sides were pressed against each other. Y/N liked the warmth and wondered why they hadn’t done that before.

She turned her head towards Namjoon, when he cleared his throat, something he usually did when he first spoke after a stretch of silence.

“Y/N, I was wondering. Maybe we could read somewhere else tomorrow? I was out cycling last night and I found this amazing place and it’d would make an awesome place to read. You can read in the open air, with a cool breeze and we could bring some food along too. Like a picnic! I know you’ll love it!” Namjoon looked at her nervously, waiting to see if she would share the same opinion as him.

He didn’t have to wait for long. The beautiful description that Namjoon gave her already had her agreeing, but the shine in his eyes when he spoke about it and the way he’d thought of sharing this amazing place with her was what made her heart flutter.

“Of course. Come pick me up tomorrow at my house.” She said, trying to sound casual and hoping to god that he couldn’t hear her heart thundering inside her chest.

And as she sat down on the blue blanket laid on the grass the next day, her heart was still beating out of her chest as she watched Namjoon carry the picnic basket to put it in front of her and then laying down spread eagled. The place really was beautiful, a small clearing in the middle of a field, the sound of a gurgling water from a nearby stream soothing to listen to. She looked down at the man who’d brought her to that place as she fiddled with her hands.

Hesitantly she reached out her hands and touched his hair, and she sighed at how soft it felt. Without thinking much she carded her hands through his hair, noticing that Namjoon had closed his eyes.

“Why did you shift here?” She asked suddenly, the thought of a successful music composer shifting to a small town unexpectedly made her believe that it wasn’t just a casual thing like he’d said before. She half expected her question to go unanswered, thinking Namjoon might’ve dozed off.

But he answered a few minutes later, his eyes still closed as he lifted his head from the blanket onto her lap.

“When I first moved into the city, I loved it. It made me feel important in a way, the busy roads, the constant phone calls, meeting so many few faces, it was all so new. But, it got really tiring you know? I started disliking everything about it, I realised my life had become so hectic, so chaotic, that I actually had no time for myself. I was so lost trying to make a place for myself, I think I lost myself somewhere along the way.” Namjoon paused.

He had no idea why he had decided to spill everything, he hadn’t even answered her question but he knew her. He knew she would understand him, at least that was what he hoped. He didn’t dare open his eyes, because he was scared of what he would see. What if she was uncomfortable and didn’t really want to listen to him talk about his problems? An apology was at the tip of his tongue, guilty for dumping his thoughts onto her out of the blue.

“What made you realise?” Y/N asked, and Namjoon felt his shoulders relax. Her tone sounded sincere, and with all that he knew about her, he could tell that she wanted to know and wasn’t asking just because she felt obligated to.

“Two years ago, it was summer, and one of my friends visited this town. When he came back, I could see the change in him. He seemed much more happy, constantly reliving memories from his trip. It was clear that he met someone there, and the letters he would constantly write, all the time he spent talking on the phone and the kind of songs he wrote, it was obvious. Be it that person, or the town or the people here, it had inspired him to do better. So that’s why I came here. To find inspiration.” he finished. He restrained from telling her more, constantly biting his tongue so as to not slip something she wasn’t ready for yet.

“Did you find it?” Y/N asked, her voice small while she absorbed everything Namjoon had said. At that his eyes finally opened, looking up at her as though he had seen the shining stars in her eyes for the first time.

“Yes, I definitely did.” He whispered, and with slow movements so as to not startle her, he brought his hands to rest on Y/N’s cheeks, praying that she was okay with their pace. After all, she didn’t know him like he knew her. Her comfort was the top most priority and he would do anything to keep her at ease. When he saw her cheeks darken and grow warm in his hands, his eyes slipped to her lips and back up to her eyes, only to notice that she was staring at his lips too.

He pulled her face closer to his, watching her reaction, a bated breath and a million thundering heart beats later, their lips finally touched. And in that moment, everything in his life felt complete again. Their lips moved together in  sync, and Y/N was amazed at how wondrous it felt. How right it felt. Her body responded to his touch so spontaneously that it was hard to believe that she’d met this man just a month ago. He kissed her and held her like she was his entire world and she kissed him back like he was her home.

When they both parted for air, she rested her forehead against his, her form bent over him while her arms went around his neck and laid on his chest. They both breathed heavily, Y/N overwhelmed by all the emotion she felt and Namjoon trying to keep his tears from falling. It had been too long.

Pushing his lips into a smile, he slowly moved from her lap and reached out for the picnic basket that he’d brought. When he opened it, he put out all the food they’d stuffed inside, his hands finding the one thing he was looking for.

“I brought you a gift.” Namjoon said, making Y/N look at him curiously. Her eyes moved to the small package he held and she already knew what it was. Judging by the paper brown cover and the slim but stiff shape, it definitely had to be a book.

She took it from him greedily, carefully tilting the package and letting the book fall onto her lap. The words “Under the Stars” were printed in stylish cursive on the cover, the background showed the twinkling night sky of a city and a boy donned in a yellow jacket stood with his back facing her. It was definitely not a new book judging by the coffee coloured pages and the dog-eared corners. She quickly flipped through the pages, seeing a lot of places where the sentences were highlighted in different colours and a page where it looked like something had been spilt on it.

“I know it doesn’t look great but, it’s my favourite book. I’ve read it more than a million times and every time I start it again, I just read it like it’s my first time. All the highlights, they’re my favourite lines, all the dog-eared pages, they’re my favourite parts of the story. I wanted you to read it. I think you’ll love it.” Namjoon smiled softly.

Y/N was at a loss for words. His words had stirred something deep inside her, because she was so sure she’d never come across anyone more beautiful than Kim Namjoon - the man who stole her heart, in her entire life. His thoughts, his gestures, his words, everything about him was so pure and so honest, falling in love was inevitable.

She couldn’t help it when she pounced onto him from her place, throwing her arms around his neck and not caring that the force of her attack had made both of them fall backwards. She lay there clutching him close to her, feeling a warmth bloom inside her when his arms wrapped around her waist.

“Thank you. I know I’ll love it.” She whispered, and she felt him smile as his face nestled closer into the crook of her neck.

That night, Y/N sat in bed after a long shower, the sheets pulled over her form as she clutched the book above them. Looking at the book made her feel so giddy, the butterflies in her stomach only multiplying when she touched her lips, feeling the lingering taste of Namjoon’s lips on hers. When he’d kissed her good night after walking her home, it had taken everything in her not to cling to him and stay glued to his side.

Y/N couldn’t believe it was happening, her life seeming like all the love stories she’d read in the novels. Their moments were magical, spell-binding and the only thing that made her afraid was that, all such stories did have a tragic twist, and she hated that the thought had even crossed her mind. Nothing could make her give him up now, and she would prove the fact that not all stories were that complicated.

People meet, like each other, fall in love, get married, have a beautiful family and live happily ever after. That was what would happen. Y/N buried her face in her pillow, blushing at the thought that she’d road mapped her entire life with Namjoon just after their first kiss. Clearing her throat she flipped to the first page of “Under the Stars” and began reading.

“I can’t believe this. This book is enchanting.” she said, two weeks later, her eyes roaming over the coloured pages for the hundredth time. Namjoon laid on the blanket as usual, his head resting on Y/N’s thighs as he read a book while holding it up over his chest. The place had quickly become their special place and they spent most of their time there. However, this time around, their focus was always interrupted by each other, with stolen glances and quick kisses.

“Yes, I know, it’s a beautiful book.” Namjoon said, put his book down on his chest and smiling at her. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it. I can’t believe it isn’t more popular. The last part when they’re both at the roof confessing to each other, my favourite.” Y/N enthused, remembering the last pages, where almost every line had been highlighted and all page corners had been folded inwards. It made her feel like there was something about this book that Namjoon was keeping from her and that bothered her. She desperately wanted to know.

“Why’re there three colours here?” She asked as she pointed to the highlights. A few lines were marked in yellow and light pink, and a majority of them were in orange as though both yellow and pink had been used, turning it into a different colour altogether.

Namjoon’s response came all too quickly. “Just colours.” He shrugged, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice that there was a little hesitance in his voice. That only confirmed her suspicion, and at the same time made her feel like she was over thinking things.

“I see.” She said, flipping another page full of colours, this one dog-eared. She heard Namjoon hum, before he was pulling away from her and sitting upright.

“Have I kissed you today?” He asked, his finger tapping against his chin as he pretended to think. Y/N giggled and set aside her book, crossing her arms as she imitated his look.

“I don’t know...have you?” She asked playfully, conveniently pushing aside the fact that they’d spent the whole ride there stealing kisses from each other.

“Don’t think I have.” Namjoon bit his lip and Y/N followed, biting her own.

“No you haven’t.” She told him, watching him crawl closer to her as he stopped inches from her face.

“Better late than never.” Namjoon murmured before pulling Y/N to him, their lips clashing hungrily, a need to feel each other closer etched in their minds. Her hands trailed over his chest and reached behind him, meshing with his soft hair trying to pull him closer. His tongue trailed over her bottom lip softly, waiting, and she let out a tiny gasp as she parted her lips. The soft muscle immediately clashed with hers, and she wondered if she could ever stop herself from kissing him.

His hands on her hips tightened as he pulled her up onto his lap, her legs going around his waist immediately so she could feel him against her. One hand reached up to cup her jaw as he bit on her lip and pulled. A moan spilt from her lips as a low groan rumbled in Namjoon’s chest.

Before she could do the same to him, a splitting ache hit her, a sudden jolt of pain as she pulled away and clutched her head. Her brain went blank, her eyes turned foggy for a few moments before the pain receded in waves, making her breathless and exhausted.

Namjoon sat stock still, his hands holding her steady as he rubbed soothing circles into her back while she recovered. She’d already told him about this, and he’d already seen it happen to her once before and also panicked, but Y/N had explained it to him. Since then, he’d hoped. He hated seeing her in pain, but he hoped it could bring back something.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t on purpose. I really want to-” Y/N started feeling guilty that something like that had to happen in the middle of such an amazing moment, but Namjoon cut her off.

“It’s okay, love. I know.” He smiled, rubbing her arms and giving her a small kiss on her nose. “Do you want to lie down?” He asked, and she nodded slowly, the need to close her eyes growing even more.

Y/N sighed as she let Namjoon do all the work, clearing up the place for her as she lay down. He quickly joined her side and she wasted no time in turning towards him and laying on his chest. His arm spread underneath her, curling around her shoulder to pull her closer as his bicep acted as her pillow.

His warmth, his musky scent and his steady heartbeat. Those were all she needed to fall asleep.

“I’ll let you borrow that one.”

“I’ll let you borrow that one.”

“I’ll let you borrow that one.”

“I’ll let you borrow that one.”

“I’ll let you borrow that one.” 

“I’ll let you borrow that one.” 

“I’ll let you borrow that one.”

The words echoed over and over again and Y/N jolted from her sleep. Her forehead was covered with a layer of sweat and her breath came out in pants as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

The book, those words, they definitely had to be a memory, and even if it wasn’t much, it meant everything to Y/N. It was like looking through a keyhole, being able to see just a glimpse of it, but not knowing what secrets the room held. But somehow, she knew she didn’t need all of those. She’d remembered something that was enough to make her believe of its existence, and the rest, she knew she had someone to depend on for.

That someone was now sitting up with her, hugging her tightly and rocking her as though she had had a nightmare. She smiled. It was good dream, it was a memory.

““I’ll let you borrow that one”, that’s what I’d said. I remember Namjoon, I gave you that book.” She whispered, and felt him stiffen behind her. Those were words he’d dreamed of hearing, never in a million years thought she would say them and now that she had, he had no clue on what to do.

“How much do you remember?” He asked, his voice shaky and he tried to gulp down the lump in his throat. At his words, Y/N looked away from him, her face frowning as she tried to recollect.

“I’m sorry, it’s not much. But I remember using the pink highlighter. I did those, didn’t I? In the book? I’m really sorry, I am trying to remember but I just-ugh.” Y/N grew frustrated that her memory was failing her the one time she had needed it desperately.

After her accident, she had made peace with the fact that she’d lost two years worth of memories, because she had been around the same people all her life who told her all that had happened. But what she did not expect and never gave much thought to was the fact that all her memories with a particular person had been completely wiped out. 

Her recovery itself had taken more than six months and she’d had an year to get back to normal when she understood that those memories were gone. But had still left a mark upon her. She just hadn’t tried, she hadn’t known to try and remember things at all. As though her thoughts, were written all over her face, Namjoon clutched her closer, sensing the anger bubbling in her voice.

“Shh...baby it’s not your fault. I’ll tell you everything there is to know. You trust me, don’t you?” Namjoon asked, tilting her chin towards him with a finger making her look him in the eyes.

“Yes. Oh god yes, I do. Please tell me. I’m so sorry I forgot you.” Her voice trembled as the first tear rolled down her cheek and Namjoon wiped it away instantly.

“I’m here now. We’re both here now. Together.” Namjoon whispered, pecking Y/N’s lips softly before sighing. His eyes held a nostalgic look, as he opened up a painful part of his memories.

“Remember that friend I told you about?” He asked, smiling when she nodded quickly, “Well, that was actually me. I visited this town two years ago in summer, and I met you in the library. You bumped into me while searching for a book.  It was a fantasy book about werewolves I believe, The Lycan Mark, I think, which I thought was absolutely ridiculous.” Namjoon chuckled as Y/N hit his shoulder playfully, muttering something about werewolves being very interesting.

“Anyway, you gave me the Narnian handshake and pretty much everything happened like it did this time, we read together all the time, and it was then that I’d found this place. I brought you here and we kissed here. You bought ‘Under the Stars’ at a local fair, and you read it first to make sure I’d like it. You marked all your favourite lines and pages with a pink highlighter and gifted it to me one day. I went home and did the same thing with yellow. Most of our favourites were the same, you noticed the orange ones.” He smiled.

“Those three months were the best ever in my life. But then I had to leave, I had visited just for the summer, I had a job back in the city, friends, I had to go back. But we kept in touch, we wrote each other letters like the hopeless romantics we were and we called each other all the time. That happened for around two months.” He sighed, reminiscing all the days, where he’d stare at his phone waiting for it to ring with Y/N’s name.

“And then the accident happened.” Y/N whispered, suddenly feeling an ache in her chest.

“Yes, I know now. I didn’t receive any letters, no calls, and when I called you, the number was out of service. I thought about it for months about what happened, but there was no form of communication. I finally decided that it had just been a summer love, right? And that I should move on, I tried to, for more than an year. But I just got tired of my life there, it wasn’t so exciting without being with you on the phone for hours or opening up your letter. So I came back here to find you, hoping I’d get some explanation.” Namjoon sighed, giving her a sad smile while Y/N clutched his hands in hers.

“How did you know?” She asked, giving his hand a light squeeze.

“The day I met you at the library, you saw me coming towards the building and I recognised you, but you didn’t. I was so confused. I asked the old lady who you were, hoping she’d tell me of anything that had changed about you and she’d just told me everything she knew. For a moment, it felt like my world had turned upside down.” Namjoon chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood when they both knew that he’d been more affected than just that.

“I’m so sorry.” Y/N whispered, bringing his hand to her face and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Their story was really something like the novels. A fairy tale meeting, happy moments of love. She was right about the tragic twist too, except she didn’t realise until then that it had already happened. But Namjoon was the one who’d fought for her. He had waited patiently and was still doing the same. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it had been for him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you were in the accident. Or when you were recovering. I’m sorry I ever left.” Namjoon gulped, the lump in his throat making itself painful evident as tears brimmed in his eyes.

“Please don’t apologise, all this time, you’ve been trying to make me remember, right from the moment you met me. The handshake, this place, that kiss, the book,” her voice broke as she held back a sob, "I’m sorry it took this long.” she whispered.

Namjoon simply shook his head, bringing her closer and swallowing her sobs as he covered her mouth with his. He kissed her slowly this time, making sure to savour every second of how her lips felt pressed against him. Feeling comfort at the fact that she remembered maybe not all of him, but at least a piece that connected her to him. They could always make new memories.

They were making one right then, holding each other close as realisation dawned upon them. He held her and kissed her like she was his entire world because that’s exactly what she was. And she kissed him back like he was her home, because that was what he was.

Y/N pulled back to look him in the eyes, her hands softly combing through his hair as she looked at him lovingly. Namjoon closed his eyes slowly, sighing in content as he felt the weight and tension of finally drop from his shoulders, his heart now as light as a feather. When his eyes snapped open, he felt the shift in her gaze as she leaned forward and placed a light kiss on his jaw.

The kiss ignited a fire in his chest and it only burned brighter as Y/N continued to pepper his jaw with kisses, slowly trailing down and breathing on his neck. He felt her lips touch his skin and he shivered when she bit him lightly. Cupping her cheeks, he brought her up to his face again, greedily pressing his lips to hers and slipping his tongue into her mouth to taste her.

His hands slipped under her shirt, rubbing the soft skin of her waist, warm against cool skin. He pulled away from her slightly, still brushing his lips against hers and rubbing soothing circles into her skin.

“Are you cold, baby?” Namjoon asked and despite feeling the chill of the evening settle into her bones, she shook her head just as a shiver ran through her. Namjoon smiled as pulled back from her a little, while she followed his movements to stay closer to him. She watched him pull out another blanket from their basket, spreading it open and wrapping it around her shoulders.

Holding on to the edges of the blanket, he pulled her closer, rubbing her arms in attempts to make her warm. Her lips had found their way back to his neck, peppering kisses while moving higher as she kissed right below his ear. As she adjusted herself closer to him, she felt it, his hardness poking her thighs as it strained against the material of his jeans.

Namjoon flushed a beet red and made to move instantly, clutching Y/N to lift her off of him, but she didn’t budge. Her arms tightened around his shoulders as she wiggled in his lap making sure to brush against his bulge in the process. Hesitantly, he pushed his hips upwards and felt a rush of emotion when Y/N threw her head back with her mouth open.

He didn’t want to rush things and he certainly did not want to make her feel pressured into doing something together and so he bit his lip and looked into her eyes, asking her silently if that was what she wanted.

Y/N couldn’t believe this man, always so concerned about her, always trying to put her comfort above his. Maybe, probably, they were moving a little too fast but when Y/N looked into Namjoon’s eyes she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. Who knew what might happen the next day, life was short and full of unexpected twists every nook and corner, and she could only think of making the most of the moment right there, make every second the happiest. Because that was what Namjoon gave her. Happiness.

And even though her eyes had made her intentions clear, she still said them out loud, to make him happy. “I’m sure. I want you, Joon.”

His heart jolted at that, the form of endearment making it beat faster than it already was. Slowly he turned them both around and laid Y/N on the blanket, her hair splaying out around her like a halo. He stared at her for a long moment, memorising they way she looked right then, going over her features repeatedly to ensure he’d never forget. It was only when she pulled him down by the collar of his shirt whining that he let his eyes close.

Their lips never left each others as they clumsily slipped out of their clothes under the blanket, the chilly night breeze hitting their bare skin and Namjoon pulled the blanket tighter around them.

“Tell me to stop if anything is too much, okay? Promise me.” He whispered, his self control teetering at the edge of a cliff, waiting for him to let go. His erection had become painful, and even if she stopped him right then, he would still have to go sit behind a tree and jerk himself off to ever feel peaceful again.

“I promise.” Y/N whispered before she pulled him to her again, while their hands explored each others skin. She glided her hands over his smooth chest and his abdomen, her fingers tracing the small dips of skin at the edges of his abs. Namjoon let out a soft sigh as she flicked his nipple, and she made sure to remember that it was something he enjoyed.

Namjoon trailed kisses down to her chest, placing tiny kisses just at the swell of her breast and sucking on them, creating hues of pink and purple. A hand came up to squeeze her breast, his other holding him above her so as to not crush her with his weight. His mouth covered her breast as he flattened his tongue against the soft flesh and then flicking her nipple making Y/N moan softly. His fingers imitated his moments on her other breast and her hands travelled up his back as she held onto his shoulders.

With her mind in a mess at how hot and bothered Namjoon made her feel, her thighs clenched together instinctively as she struggled to feel pleasure in her attempts to create friction between her thighs. She pushed her hips upward in need, her skin meeting his, as his hardened member settled into the dip between her thighs. Namjoon let out a load groan as he felt her flesh squeeze together against his member, the fractional moment of pleasure making him frustrated and needing more.

Y/N continued to tease him, enjoying the way Namjoon would release soft gasps while he rolled his tongue around her nipples to make her feel the same intensity. When she’d almost become smug with the fact, she felt Namjoon’s fingers slip between her folds, and she let out a strangled gasp.

“So wet.” Namjoon whispered as he spread the arousal dripping between her thighs all over her heat, flicking her clit before experimentally sliding a finger into her wetness. “So tight.” He grunted as Y/N clutched onto him tighter, her nails digging into his skin as she felt her walls squeeze his finger. He was slowly thrusting his fingers into her, setting a steady pace as he added another finger when he felt her relax a little. Her last time had been more than two years ago, and the feeling felt foreign, yet so much needed as she circled her hips against his fingers.

He slowly added a third finger, his pace going a little faster as tiny mewls slipped out of Y/N’s mouth. Even when she was so tight around his fingers, she couldn’t help but feel the need for more, spilling out the same in words that were lost with her moans.

Before he could push her to her edge she gripped his wrist stilling his ministrations while she tried to regain her breathing. Namjoon looked at her with worry, wondering if he’d gone too fast in the heat of the moment, but Y/N’s next words erased all such thoughts from his mind.

“I want you inside me.” She whispered and Namjoon licked his lips as he slipped his fingers out of her and laid his hand on her belly. Fumbling with a pocket of his jeans lying next to their tangled legs, he tore open the wrapper of a condom as he rolled it onto his member in a hurry.

“Did you expect us to do it today?” Y/N giggled amused, watching Namjoon hurry back into place.

“When you’re around someone you like, you always gotta carry stuff around ya know. Wouldn’t want something so trivial put a break to what could be.” Namjoon chuckled, watching Y/N let out another sweet giggle and he beamed at her. Scooping down to indulge in a rather mushy kiss, his hand travelled down to his length.

Rubbing the tip of his member against her folds, he gathered Y/N’s slick arousal and rubbed it over his length , slowly edging into her heat as she held onto him tightly. Y/N let out a low breath, willing herself to relax as she tried to accommodate the stretch from his thick length. A few seconds later, she nodded to him, Namjoon seeing that as the green light and thrusting into her at a slow pace.

As they both moaned together, a sudden urgency creeped up on them, the need to become each other’s tearing through their skin as they moved faster, Namjoon pumping into her at a faster pace and Y/N pushing her hips up to met his hips for every thrust. They couldn’t describe it any other way than the fear of losing each other again, and the what if’s of whether or not they would find each other again. It was a stinging feeling in Namjoon’s mind, the thought of it making his eyes tear at everything he had been through since Y/N had stopped writing to him. Y/N could sense it in the way Namjoon was breathless, and the salty taste that met her lips when they kissed.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She reassured him silently, watching him pull away from her face to look at her, his pace slowing down again. His eyes shone brighter than the stars in the sky, their light somehow dimming in the wake of his mesmerising eyes. Namjoon was astonished that she could tell what he had been thinking and those were the exact words he’d needed to hear.

“I won’t ever let you go.” He vowed, thrusting into her deeply as Y/N moaned, feeling him hit the perfect spot. Everything was heavenly at that moment, they were in each others arms, warm, and were becoming one under the starry sky. The beauty of it was beyond compare and Y/N bit her lip as she felt Namjoon lower down slightly and press his body against hers gently.

A knot grew inside her, and her back arched, pushing her chest to Namjoon’s torso making him grunt. She wrapped her hands his neck instinctively as he buried his face in her nape, his plump lips touching her skin softly. The knot in her stomach grew as Namjoon thrusted into her faster, his hand coming up again to fondle her clit.

With one flick at the nub, the knot unfurled, Y/N shuddering as hot pleasure shot through her body. It left her gasping and moaning, her held tilted to the side and pressed to the blanket and she pinched her eyes shut. With Y/N’s walls clenching around his member, Namjoon followed her into nirvana, his load filling up the condom as he rode out his orgasm moaning Y/N’s name.

He slowly came to a stop, pulling out and ripping the condom off to dispose it. He laid down beside Y/N after, pulling her onto his body so she was laying on his chest. A few synchronised breaths later, they both turned to each and smiling as though they had something in mind.

“I love you.” They whispered together, a smile growing on both of their lips as their cheeks tinted a light pink. Namjoon slowly titled Y/N’s face towards himself with his hand, kissing her softly before touching their foreheads together.

As they lay under the stars, hugging each other tightly, they were both calm and peaceful. They loved each other and were together and nothing could ever keep them apart. Because no matter what, they’d find a way back to each other. They were each others home, and as they rightly say ‘Home is where the heart is’.

A/N: Let me know if you guys want me to write about ‘Under the Stars’ too. If you do, which member au would you like it to be?

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[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter One

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :3 anywho i hope you enjoy :)) The main love interest will be reader and bakugo i think edit: it is not going to be just bakugo it will be a love triangle k byebye for the second time oh also this is fem reader k bye lol

-> Word Count: 1.9k (I lowkey popped off)

-> Warnings: None rly just mentions of guns and blood

-> Tag list: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat

Chapter One

People would tell you that the world was made for two, but as Y/n sat in the silence of the old cellar two felt like a long lost dream. It was like wind rolling around you gently, trying to persuade you to move in all directions. It’s an ice cream cone on a boardwalk with the sun above and the salty ocean below. It’s a perfect place no one tries to remember.

Any mind left functioning in the world has evolved to be built for pain. Maybe once upon a time there had been a time and place where love and compassion was something for people to look forward to in life.

This wasn't that world anymore.

To Y/n, that type of world never existed anyways. The world had always been a selfish dark place where love is fleeting and the people are brutal. Once upon a time, true love accidentally affected those who were fortunate. But like every other beautiful thing, they polluted and corrupted it, and like everything else, it got sick.

Y/n’s seen it all. And in the end when it’s taken away the people who protested or cried the loudest, were the one who had taken it for granted the most.

Y/n looked around the cellar, in three days she barely moved. It’s her rule and because of it she can leave easier with the feeling of safety. She always ended a shopping trip with a quiet few nights in a cellar or basement.

Y/n wasn’t born to do this, she had to learn to move around quietly, how to sit still. She knew what she had to do to survive. She had lain amongst the dead, she had run through the dark woods, having to feel her eyesite clear like a wild animal and embrace the darkness.

She crept out into the beam of dust lingering in the stale air, sparkling from the sunlight that found its way down two stories into a dark cellar. The beam of light almost made her smile as she admired the light's determination. Y/n shook her head to bring her thoughts back to the harsh reality as she took her first step towards the stairs.

The explosions never seemed to destroy this home in any way. The stairs were in one piece, which had become a bit of a novelty to her. The old farmhouse was too far from any major centers or roads to have even known of the problems, at least in the beginning. The blood stain smears on the white siding outside proved that sickness has touched every single inch of this world.

The hard wood creaked under the weight of her first step. She held her breath and hoped that the creak went unheard. She slowly took another step up as she let out a shaky breath. On the third step she hesitated, listening for any sort of alarming sounds. Her heart was beating like it was trying to free itself from her constricted chest. She waited a second longer, it was another rule of hers. Never leave when you feel safe, always wait three more seconds.

She put her feet on the far sides of the stairs, where the rusty nails attached the boards to the frame. Shallow breaths make sounds in this new world, in the borderlands anyway. There was no electricity, no cars, no phones, no buzz. The world now sits quiet, as if it was sighing and taking a long inhale after what seemed like forever with mankind and the noise pollution. Y/n was at peace when she was at home, but here in the open world she was one of them. One of what was left of humanity. What scrambles to survive, most of the time seperate from everyone else.

Y/n looked through the cellar door and tried to keep her anxious heartbeat low and her breath quiet. She knew that her body needed to make some noises, but others she could control.

The house was simple. Farmhouses were always the best houses according to Y/n. They always sat a long way off the road, not that roads mattered anymore. They always have canning and pickling that would outlast any human. They always have safety supplies and extras of everything. Farmers lived the longest, just as Y/n’s father said they would.

Two trips a year was rarely enough, but Y/n knew that if she traveled any more than that she would be caught.

She walked through the small kitchen and was amazed at how pristine it still was. Everything was still in its place, just as it was the first time she came to the farmhouse, although now layers of dust had found their way into the home, along with the bits of weeds that grew in through the cracks. With no busy grandmother to buzz around cleaning and dusting the mess, everything shows the house’s years of abandonment. Vines grew up the sides of the house, like all houses. As always, she stood against the doorframe and put her hand at the top of her head as her measurement. She turned and looked at how much higher it is than the mark she foolishly put there last time she came.

She looked away from the mark and pushed away the memories of the happy little girl she used to be. She walked low to the ground toward the backdoor. She couldn’t help but laugh inside at how ridiculous it was that she still felt safer going through the backdoor, even though there was no front or back. There were only doors. They didn’t go anywhere anymore. There was no direction.

Nothing goes anywhere.

Y/n positioned the heavy pack on her back carefully. It contained jars full of heart and soul and survival. To Y/n each jar was like a gentle kiss from the old lady who canned and pickled from her own farm of fresh vegetables. She assumed there are no preservatives, no added colorings, no added salt. There weren’t any labels to contradict anything. For all she knew there was MSG in everything. Y/n found herself smiling at the letters MSG, they meant something to humanity once. That was before.

She fought back memories of nice old ladies and the world before. She had been to many worlds in her life, and being nineteen felt more life sixty most days. She took a deep breath and creaked the door open, as if the wind had opened it. She closed it and opened it again. It felt like the wind coming off the brown dirt field was playing with the door.

Her sharp eyes focused on the dirt yard. Nothing moved, everything was standing still. She knew that she should’ve been waiting for the night to travel, but she had stayed too long this time. She needed to get back. Things only lived so long alone, she knew this well. Her garden had died many times before.

The old barn door swung in the soft breeze, making it creak slightly as the long tan grass swayed and small pebbles scuttled along. Everything moved in sync with the wind. Y/n learned how to spot that.

Y/n pulled the door and cringed, she knew this was always the worst part of the walk home. She hated leaving this house.

She felt her eyes squint shot, as the intense light of the sun nearly blinded her. Her pack felt like tons of bricks on her back, but she took her first steps, desperate for the walk to be over with already. She tried not to jostle her bag too much because she didn’t want to break any jars. She learned the hard way that pickle juice is hard to get out and that backpacks were even harder to find.

Walking across the dirt and gravel driveway to the field was the worst. Y/n looked around, walking with her shotgun in her hand. She usually practiced often with her rifle and silencer at home. But on the road she always brought her shotgun. She saw it as her lucky gun. The thick cold metal made her feel strong, even though she knew what strength was.

To her, strength was not pulling the trigger. At this point in life she has yet to prove her strength to her own self. She always took the cowards path. Just like her dad told her to.

Her boots crunched along the path. She walked softly but some noises were unavoidable. She knew the noise would last until she reached the huge wheat field. Then she would be a whisper in the wind. She entered the field without looking back, when she reached the field she knew the rule.

Her legs groaned under the first steps, but after the first quarter mile she started to warm up and she enjoyed running. Her back was the issue, what with the pack being so much heavier than she had ever trained with. She gripped the shoulder straps tight until her arms couldn’t stand it for another second. Even then, she kept pushing until she reached the forest.

She ran deep intothe woods, always on the same side. Never the same path but always the same destination. The branches whipped past her. The edge of the forest was always the thickest. As the forest clears I see him. He’s smiling like always. He’s calm. He doesn’t run and jump. He waits to confirm that she hadn’t brought anything with her. He’s seen them before. He knew how bad it could be. Together both of them had seen the people get swarmed and taken, usually women.

“Hades.” Y/n whispered out of breath.

Instead of the warm greeting they both want, she quickly turned around and held her shotgun up. She walked backwards as Hades sauntered over to watch the forest. They sat behind a tree and waited and after a few minutes she put the pack down gently and climbed one of the huge trees. The thick branches were very rough against her hands. She sat on a branch and looked through her binoculars from the high viewpoint.

She could see the entire field of brown hay from where she was sitting. Y/n let herself have a weak moment and let herself imagine living in the farmhouse one day and harvesting hay. She felt her eyes strain as she tried to find even a single strand of grass moving in a way that would mean she was followed. She looked at the farmhouse sitting still and alone and hoped it would stay that way until her next trip.

She looked past the farmhouse and watched everything move just as it should. After coming to the conclusion that no one had followed her, she climbed down the tree, eager to lay in her own bed.

When her feet touched the dry ground, she looked at Hades, whose yellow eyes confirmed her thoughts. They were alone. She dropped to her knees and greetedhim as he bounded towards her. The large tundra wolf licked her face and raised his massive paws up to hug her. She would hug him so often when he was baby and one day he hugged back.

He nuzzled at her softly and nipped at her arms. She rubbed his huge soft ears and stood up. She patted him gently on his head.

“Ready?” She asked.

She picked up the heavy pack and adjusted to having it on her back again. The walk home would take an entire day if she could manage to keep a solid pace. Hades started the walk home by heading past the old broken oak tree. Their meeting place.

--

I worked really hard on this and so i hope people enjoy this although ik this chapter is a lil boring but i promise next chapter will be better k goodbye have a good day love u

[dragonrajafanfiction]

“I can’t imagine this place being used for anything good, not with all that blood all over the walls.” 

N

“To err is human, to dream divine."

W anyone ya want to really^^

You’re standing in the pouring rain. It’s raining so hard you can barely keep your eyes open. The heavy, relentless drops are beating on you, dozens of times per second, and despite your attempt at preparation - a bright yellow poncho that you snagged at the last dingy rest stop on the way to this godforsaken piece of no-mans-land - you’re soaked through anywhere  that peeked out. Your hands, are wet and icy cold. So is your face and you’re starting to get soaked through your collar.

The dark sky turned white with a few flashes of lightning. Shadows of the surrounding dense forests reached into the heavens behind the two story antebellum mansion. It loomed over the flat land with a menacing presence. Its formal gleaming whitewashed façade was darkened by climbing ivy. Its painted columns were running with cracks. The wood was split underneath like shattered old bones.

You shiver with more than just cold. 

Your professors looked at you in confused sympathy when you entered Cassell College. You barely passed the 3E exam as a base C-Rank.  Professor Schneider passed your name on the list of potential commissioners and you were happy to spend your days examining your love of ancient Aztec art in the hopes of specializing in MesoAmerican Archeaology.

Of course, you passed all the classics on dragon genetics and weapons engineering but with the most useless Soul Skill on all of Campus, you figured you’d hardly matter when it came to dragon slaying.

Norma told you in a forced optimistic voice that only two other hybrids had been documented with the Soul-Skill Devour. It meant that the user could make themselves immune to all toxins and could digest anything they swallowed. It may sound neat on the surface, however, it didn’t change the fact that a person might not want to eat odd things or that it would taste and feel terrible going down.

Because it is such a weak Soul Skill and it was documented, your Soul Skill ended up on public record. You spent the rest of your college days being known as the student who could ‘eat shit and NOT die’ and fielding dares to swallow everything from the most toxic substances to the most disgusting, and fielding invitations to the Gear Department for what was presumably lunch as well as testing.

So when you got the summons to report to the Executive Department, you thought it was a joke and didn’t bother replying until you got a second email explaining that if you didn’t show up you would be expelled. 

“All Cassell College Alumni must have an internship and participate in missions for graduation.” Norma patiently explained to you as you received the mission. “Even though your major is in archeology, you are expected to complete a mission for the college.”

Sure. Whatever. You got onto the big black helicopter and left the college, expecting a normal mission where you hopefully ‘stood watch’ or something easy, just to check a box on your resume at graduation. What you didn’t expect was to be met by Caesar Gattuso, the President of the Student Union, once you got off the aircraft.

Even as he reclined in the front seat of a camouflage colored military jeep, he looked every bit the veteran. He was staring at the tablet with his intense blue gaze. A hint of stubble lit his chin in a faint blond halo. The door of the Jeep was open and you could see that he was dressed in Camo pants under the white tank-tee that was already getting sticky with sweat in the humid air of the southern United States.

He didn’t bother looking up at you or explaining anything. He closed the application with a deft swipe of his long fingers and looked at you. No doubt he stamped you with the same label of “Useless baggage” as everyone else did. Silently, those eyes scanned down and then back up again. And then his eyebrows rose -- you imagined a little ‘ding’ sound as his calculations spit out a result.

Much to your surprise, he grinned.

Caesar was used to much higher level people groveling at his feet for his favor, trying their best to get a word in, trying their best to get a little bit of approval from him. Here he was completely alone, save a single person -- you -- who simply had no hope of rising to anything but the podium to reach out, take your diploma and disappear into obscurity.

So sure. Laugh it up, golden boy. You return his smile with none of the brightness and shrug.

You have one duffle bag of supplies but it was basic. A pistol of Frigg and live ammunition, a change of clothes, a first aid kit, a two way radio and flares. You tossed it in the back of the Jeep and got into the passenger seat.

“We have a report of what may be a backwoods cult that has forbidden dragon artifacts. The Cultists I’ll have no issue with. So don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t planning to. You’re the expert, not me. I just need this to graduate.”

He shifted the jeep into gear. The tires crunched against gravel before pulling out on to smooth surface. “You remind me of someone else. Don’t you aspire to more?”

“It’s not really possible.”

Caesar huffed, his eyes narrowing. “That’s only because of how you view things.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes. That was so easy for him to say. He was A-ranked, rich, famous. You were none of those things. Under your yearbook photo they should put the caption ‘just happy to be here’.

The road disappeared under a glowing emerald canopy of white oak, sumac and locust trees. The greenery crowded onto the road, and the car was kept corraled by a single rusty guardrail as the surrounding plants scraped at it. But Caesar pumped the accelerator and hugged the curves, weaving this way and that as the tension rose up your entire body. You found yourself gripping the seat and praying that no one would come swinging round the blind curves in the opposite direction and hit you head on.

Still, you didn’t feel you could ask him to slow down.

As the sunse, and you climbed the tall mountain toward your destination, the temperature noticeably cooled and you felt a chill. At the rest stop, you bought the poncho and felt the first drop of rain on your way back in to the jeep.

“So it’s true you don’t get nauseous?” Caesar asked you.  He didn’t look at you, but he was looking at a map. A red dot marked a spot, likely where they were supposed to go.

“It’s not that I don’t get nauseous, it’s that I can’t get poisoned and I can digest anything so long as I can get it down.”

“Hmmm...” Caesar rubbed his chin.

“Are you trying to think of something useful for me to do?”

Before you could think of anything else to say, you stared down the barrel of the Desert Eagle. You leap to get away, adrenaline rushing and tell you to escape, but before you could reach for the door handle, the barrel flashed and the car filled with gun residue. You grunt as the Frigg bullet shattered and sent its medication rushing through your blood stream.  Your eyes burn golden and you double over, fighting the sudden dizziness and fatigue. “You... you asshole...” “That’s what I thought. You’re not affected by Frigg bullets.” 

Frigg bullets contained an extremely powerful sedative and you could barely see. Not affected is a misnomer! You’re still affected you just get over it! You didn’t remember Caesar pulling out of the gas station until you were well on your way to the top of the mountains and it had started to rain.

“You still with me?”

“Yeah...” You rasp, cursing him a million times in your heart. You reached for a bottle of water that you had stashed.

“Not being effected by Frigga Bullets is a big deal. You shouldn’t sell yourself short.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He was smug, happy with his little experiment, even though you can throw that up on the pile of countless other experiments your fellow students had performed on you. “God,... I just wanna graduate.” You whisper.

Now, standing at the entrance of a massive mansion you realize you have no idea how to fight. Just because you could withstand frigg bullets didn’t mean you could withstand regular ones.

Caesar’s eyes burned golden and ghostly figures, like grim reapers, flew from his body. He stood, unbothered by the rain, listening. You hold your breath, not wanting to interfere. 

“Looks like the place is empty. Let’s go.”

The steps were rotting and soft, bowing dangerously under your feet. On the porch, a rusty metal swing creaked in a gusty wind. Caesar lifted one leg and kicked the door right in. It swung back on the hinges and Caesar entered, eyes behind his gun despite the lack of life signs.

The first thing you smell is rust or copper. You can taste it on your tongue, like licking a battery. As you step inside onto the linoleum floor, your shoes lightly adhere to it. Each step made a sound like someone peeling wallpaper. A double staircase arched gracefully in front of you and framed a painting of a man in a suit, a woman in a traditional southern dress and a small dog, like a Doberman, sitting between them.

Looking left, the walls were streaked black and looking down, you realize the black continued on the floor where you were stepping. The lightning flashed and revealed the dark brown all over the floor.

“I can’t imagine this place being used for anything good, not with all that blood all over the walls.” Caesar said.

[snow--blanket]

stream and deer

commissioned by @nyktoon-in-otomeland!

word count: 4028

fandom: ikemen sengoku

characters: kennyo, ishikawa reika ***

There was an old library, south of the forest in Sekihan, and the path there was cobbled and staggering. It depended on who you asked—the widows of soldiers in the past war believed the road was formed by the steps of the Gashadokuro, a skeletal giant that was made from the bones of a thousand fallen men. The ones that hung holly above their doors believed it to be the paw prints of black cats, leading you astray from the crooked road back home. 

Kennyo believed differently. 

He believed that the wayfarers that had found their way to the boundary between forest and field were looking for something new. Something troubling. They were waiting for a rise in the tide, the grey of smoke and storm that christened the air in the midst of a hail of bullets. They were not looking for something pretty. 

They were looking for a reckoning. They were looking for change, and change was what Kennyo needed. 

So he made himself steady through the forest, following the path of small stones that dug through his worn down sandals, and the road to the library was so narrow it could hardly be called one. It was more like a small alley, and the thorns pricked him red and stole threads of his sleeves as he walked. Kennyo realised that if he were ambushed in the forest, he could not get out. He was a soldier walking to his death, slowly watching his comrades being killed one by one, lined up and ripe for murder. 

He grit his teeth. Murder is what kept him walking, so he did not mind if he died. Still, it should not be here, where so many of his brothers have gone without tombstones to mark their graves. 

Kennyo reached the library by the one hundred and fifty-eighth tap, and the library itself was a fairly small thing, like a silo used to store grain. He remembered a soldier that came from the inner town saying that the libraries there were the length of more than a hundred arm spans. This one had no room for Kennyo to walk around the sides or behind, shielded by the thorny wood. He remembered the sight. He'd seen it before. 

The library of Sekihan was a heart and the forestry was its ribcage. He knew he was at the right place. 

Kennyo walked to the front door, ignoring the foggy windows and the rusty knocker, corroded by time and air and rain. There were no flowers around the library, only the browning summer grass. 

When he entered the library, he was surprised by the fact that he didn't cough. In fact, as he looked around his surroundings, the library was quite well kept—only a few books strewn on a table, but the floor was not dusty as he had expected. When he took off his sandals and walked on the wooden floorboards, it was smooth, no layer of dirt for him to wipe off his sole. The lighting in the library, however, was inconvenient. His only source of light was the evening sun filtering through the trees outside and passing through the greyed lens of glass. 

Kennyo walked to the bookshelves, looking for a title to catch his eye. His hand landed on the spine of a purple book, foiled with golden stripes. The title read, 'The Magic of Exchanges'. Surely this must be it. 

He removed the book from the shelf, but just as he was about to open it, a voice spoke: “I'd prefer it if you knocked next time.”

Kennyo's heart jumped in his chest, and he turned around to see a woman standing from her seat at a table, a book laid open. She rubbed her eyes and walked over to him. The woman stopped in front of him, then took the book from his hands. He was too surprised to react aptly, and for some reason he blushed beside himself. 

The woman went ahead and placed the book onto the shelf once more, then turned to look at him. “What is it you need?” 

He wasn't sure whether it was the filtered light passing through the foliage that made it seem like her eyes were star-scaped. He couldn't discern the colour of her eyes clearly, but her skin was the colour of the maple branches, and her kimono was a light blue. He blinked at that. “The book.”

The woman sat down in a chair, and then dipped a brush on an inkstone, writing on the pages of the open book. She hummed. “And for what reason?” 

Kennyo's brows were tight in a low snarl. “Not something you need to know.” 

She sighed. “This is my library. Every book belongs to me.”

Kennyo's legs already began to move, and in an instant, he pressed a blade to her throat. “I didn't ask.”

Her eyes met his own, and then they wandered down to his other hand that was free. She hummed. “Reika.”

“What?”

“My name is Reika. It's the name you will remember me by once you've killed me.” She stood up and walked slowly towards him, and it was then that he realised her eyes were not honey sunset or the orange from a lantern light, but dark as soil. Even though he was the one holding a weapon, the more she stepped closer, the farther he retreated, until they were both no longer doused in the evening light, dipped in darkness. 

He could do this. He had killed before. He would do it again. 

And yet, the more he pressed the cold steel to her skin, the more doubtful he felt. Kennyo could not take his eyes off of her. He did not try. He tried to say something kind—to make it quick, maybe?—but his tongue froze in his mouth and his words were robbed off him. Foolishly, he said this: “I will not apologise.”

“I don't expect you to,” Reika said, and her eyes wandered to his hand again. He only now realised that he had been drumming his palm with his fingers, a habit born out of anxiousness. “But it's not wise to lie to me.”

Kennyo opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, her hand had pushed his knife away, and his mouth was agape as he watched the small dribble of blood trail down her fingers. Without realising, he had lowered his blade, eyes widened as he saw that the skin where her cut formed chipped off and flaked to the ground like brittle splinters. “Who are you?” 

She smiled, and then bowed in a curtsy. “I'm Reika, the tsukumogami of the library, and keeper of the wisdom you seek. And you?” 

“Kennyo,” he uttered honestly, belatedly. “A…” 

Demon? 

“Traveler,” he said. It would do for now. “I'm a traveler.”

Her smile was edged, thorny like the woods. “And do all travelers carry weapons these days? I must have been asleep for quite some time.”

“It is a dangerous world.”

Reika's eyes glanced at the blade in his hand. “It certainly appears that way.” She looked back at him. “So what, pray tell, are you planning to do with the book?” 

Kennyo opened his mouth to let the lies fly out like locusts, but he found himself speaking the truth. “I will make myself a monster.”

She regarded him, a sort of understanding sinking into her eyes like stone. As if she has had this conversation a hundred times with a hundred different people. “And whose monster will you be?” 

His tongue thawed, and his words came easy and abrasive like sand. “Oda Nobunaga.”

She was quiet. There was no way she hadn't heard the name before. “I'll grant you permission on one condition,” she said. “That you speak truth.”

He considered this. “And when will I receive it, if I do?” 

“Whenever I deem you fitful.”

Kennyo gnashed his teeth. Nobunaga's march east would be in three weeks time, so he could only make sure to gain his powers as a demon within that time frame to avoid any more reckless deaths. “In two and a half weeks,” he said. “If you do not deem me fitful then, I will burn this library to the ground.”

She was a tsukumogami, and her spirit resided in the library, tying herself to the same thread. Burning the books was as good as killing her. If he could not make her bleed, he would make her disappear.

Reika smiled. “I don't think you'll need the book to be a monster, then.”

“I will need to be a stronger monster than him,” Kennyo spat out the words like poison. 

She hummed, appraising him with… something he could not recognise. Reika turned away from him, tidying up the books on the table. “Come again tomorrow,” she said. 

Kennyo nodded, and then left the library. When he arrived home, he asked a village woman about hexes to ward off impurities. The old woman was somewhere in her late forties or early fifties, her wrinkled face stretched like cloth that had gotten loose from use. She had a mother's disposition, taking care of many animals, as well as parenting a lot of the village children. Although she had her own name, everyone called her such. 

The old woman hunched over her small, damp, kitchen and tied rosemary and basil leaves together with butcher's twine, and then wrapped it in a small white cloth. She gave it to Kennyo, who uttered his thanks as he slipped it into his kimono. “Are you going somewhere far again?” 

“No.” Not now, at least. Kennyo lightly bumped her out of the way, picking up the ladle that still had the remnants of soup. He began his mindless work of tidying up her kitchen, as it often was messy after supper for the kids. “How is…” His voice caught on his throat like the briars had on his sleeves. “How is he?” 

The old woman started to stack up the dirty plates, hovering around the table so worriedly it truly gave justice to her title. “The usual. He asked you where you went, but that's about it.” 

“I see.” 

They were both silent after that, and Kennyo made himself sparse and went home after the old woman had sent him off with rice balls filled with anchovy and pickled plum. When he bathed, the nicks the thorns had made on his arms and legs stung red under the rush of water. There was magic there, he realised. His wounds looked like the sun spots behind his eyelids, a dizzying flower. It'll be worth it, he thought. The pain would be worth it. 

He woke up early the next day and ate the half of the pickled plum rice ball, giving half of it to the little boy that was drawing circles on the dirt. Kennyo simply patted his head and said "you need to grow up strong and healthy", smiling as he did so. 

“Like you?” 

His smile faltered at that. “Even stronger.” I will need to be a stronger monster than him. Kennyo hoped that the words would not echo. 

When he arrived at the library again, the narrow path seemed to have widened a bit—now it was not squeezing him like a tied coin purse, but it was as if he was in the kitchen with the village mother, working elbow to elbow. The curtains were drawn fully to let the afternoon glare enter. Even without lanterns, it seemed to be brighter than before. 

She greeted him with a smile. “Hello.”

He nodded, and then sat on a chair, all stiff shoulders like he was going to war. “Begin,” he said. 

She laughed at that. “If you say so.” She sat near him after she pulled out a green book from the shelf. She pushed it across the table in front of him. “Read.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Kennyo's voice was a low growl. 

Reika did not respond to his heat with fire. Instead, her voice was a slow stream from the mountains, ever-enduring. “Not at all.” This, she said without smiling. “Why do you wish to be a demon?” 

“So I can kill—” Her gaze silenced him. Speak truth. “So I can avenge my fallen brothers.”

She hummed, then took out a yellow book he'd seen her write on before. She dipped her brush in the inkstone once, and then drawled across the empty pages in fluid motions. “And you think killing Nobunaga will do such a thing?” 

“Not at all.” He thought even death was too easy for the devil of the sixth heaven. “But if—” he stammered, “but if it will give them some semblance of peace, then I will do it.”

She stopped her writing, tore out a page to squeeze the ink out of her brush, then put it down. “I'm going to give you something,” Reika said, and pulled out a green book. She flipped open the pages until she stopped at one page, and then a round lumpy object surfaced from the papers, like dead bodies in a lake. Kennyo's eyes widened. She took the object and put it in his hands. It was light, and smooth. Like a small rock that had been polished clean. 

He blinked at her incredulously. “What is this?” 

She walked past him and closed the yellow book, then nudged it into the bookshelf. When her eyes met his, there was something there. Pinecones and fallen leaves. Like she had seen death without stepping foot on a battlefield. “It's what you are looking for.”

“I am looking for power,” he said, and he almost felt ridiculous. As if speaking it into existence had somehow dulled the scent of gunpowder and burnt embers. 

Reika shook her head. “You're looking for hatred,” she said so kindly, “And that is what hatred is.”

Kennyo looked at the rock in his hands, eyes narrowed in puzzlement. This thing was supposed to help him kill Nobunaga? The man who had both the forces of the nine-tailed kitsune and the fierce loyalty of a man turned servant? He couldn't understand it well. 

When he tried to prod further, Reika simply smiled and then said goodbye, and he had the good sense to leave her alone after that. 

Nine days passed, and the remnants of war returned in the middle of winter. 

Kennyo did not visit Reika in that time—because of the ongoing skirmish (it was what they called it, but he digressed) near the village, the daimyo ordered for the soldiers to send any injured or dead to them. The air was thick with the scent of blood and pus. Kennyo had experience with bandaging and basic first aid treatment, so he was in charge of aiding the injured soldiers as well as teaching other young men how to do the same thing. 

They managed to set up an area to lay the treated soldiers on a flat field that the children used to play in. Because the medicine was especially ineffective in the cold, they had used up every lantern and candle from the houses to warm the wounded men. The villagers did not complain, for they had gotten used to the chill of the mountains. Like sinners that had gotten used to hell fire.

One man whimpered, tugging Kennyo by his sleeve as he lay and groaned his pain. “Will I… live…?” 

The man had part of his lower leg blown off by an explosion, and it was as if a wolf had bitten it off. A wolf would have been kinder. Kennyo was sure there was a way to save him, but he did not know how. All he knew was that if he decided to muffle his breathing with a pillow, it would end his suffering. 

And wasn't that a sort of grace in itself? 

“No,” he said. He would be a monster, but he would not lie. “But—” he gestured to the other men that lay beside him. “But they might.”

The man smiled. “That's all… I can ask for.” He exhaled, and his sigh was like smoke coming out of the wrong end of a gun. Kennyo looked away. 

Because that's all you can afford to ask, Kennyo thought, but bit his words down until he felt blood. 

When he was free, he walked to the village mother's house and went into another room with a bowl of gruel in hand. Kennyo's heart beat fast and heavy in his chest. He knocked at the wooden door, a hollow sound. “I'm coming in.”

There was no response, but he entered anyways, and nudged the door close with his leg. He put the bowl onto the small wooden table and then lifted it off the floor to be closer to the bed. Kennyo could hear his shallow breathing. “Have you eaten yet?” He sat on a nearby makeshift stool, a container for biscuits. 

No answer. Just his pale eyes that stared at the walls. He had beauty, once. People fawned over him, and his hair that was lavender was now the colour of… rotting meat. Clever eyes that were like wisteria were always closed or looked at something that wasn't there, like a cat that could see ghosts. His beautiful features became wasted and hungry, his skin being pinched by his cheekbones that became more prominent as the days went by. 

“Ranmaru,” Kennyo said gently. “You have to eat.”

Ranmaru did not answer. Kennyo hated that he'd forgotten what the sound of his voice was like. When he was happy, he was like a twittering songbird. When he was serious, his breath was steady and his voice rang with clarity. When he was sad… 

When he was sad, he was silent, and that was the worst of all. 

He only spoke to the village mother, but Kennyo did not chide him for that. People expressed grief differently. Kennyo felt his chest become heftier, like he was the crow that had drunk the rocks with the water. A foolish act. 

Kennyo dragged his seat closer, and then spooned the gruel in front of his mouth. Ever since a small girl had come wandering into the room and stared agape at Ranmaru's lack of arms, no one else was allowed to enter aside from the village mother and himself. They had made up silly stories about a ghoul of some kind to ward off the children, and that was how Ranmaru lived. Like a gust of wind that could pass as the voice of a ghost. 

When Ranmaru did not open his mouth to eat, Kennyo did not sigh. He returned the spoon to the wooden bowl and put it back on the table and stood up. 

As he turned to leave, he felt something slip out of his robes. Kennyo looked at the floor and saw the small rock had escaped him. He crouched to pick it up, dusting it off before slipping it back into his kimono. He straightened, and opened his mouth to tell Ranmaru to rest well, but he did not speak. 

For the first time in years, Ranmaru's eyes were alive and lit with disgust, his lips a pulled back snarl like a taut bowstring. “You too?” His voice was quiet and quivering, like a rabbit in a trap. “You're going to kill me too?” 

“I don't—” 

“Enough already!” When Ranmaru was happy, his voice was a twittering bird. When he was serious, his voice was a warhorn. When he was angry, his voice was a trembling string of a koto being strummed over and over and over until the fingers that played it had gone red and chafe with use. “Enough already… I know I'm already useless to you, Master Kennyo. I know I should die. I know that I can't help you with your goals anymore, and it'll probably be easier to kill me than to take care of me, but—!” 

“No. No! You're not—I wouldn't do that to you.” He remembered the man at the tent. “I wouldn't do that to you,” he said. 

“But someday you will!” Ranmaru shouted like the words had been ripped out of his mouth, from some part of him that knew the truth. That Kennyo was to be a monster, and he did not know where he stood between his fangs and his hatred. 

Ranmaru started shaking, his body convulsing as his breathing started to pick up, shallow and quick and unsteady. Kennyo started to approach him, but Ranmaru whimpered. “Go away.” His eyes looked at him in fear. “Please, go away.” He closed his eyes shut and tears streamed down his face. 

So Kennyo did. 

He hoped something would make him stay; regret, compassion, kindness. But those could not be his tools as a monster. His human tongue had nestled in slumber behind his canine teeth. So he left, knowing that he did not deserve those half-hearted attempts at deriving the gold of his heart from the poison. 

That night, Kennyo slept restlessly, and he thought about the sun spots the thorns had made on him and the look in Ranmaru's eyes. As if he feared him not for holding the gun, but as a volatile bullet in a chamber, waiting for direction and could erupt at a moment's notice. He was a monster at both ends. 

The next day, Kennyo visited the library again, and strangely, he did not feel pain when the thorns pricked him. Like a sinner that had gotten used to hellfire indeed. 

Without even a greeting, Kennyo laid down the stone on the table where Reika sat at and spoke. “What is this?” 

Reika recognised the hurt that flashed in his eyes like fire flowers that were all too willing to burn. “It's a projectile from a canon that's called Ozutsu.”

“Why would you give me such a thing?” Kennyo could not help his frown. 

“There are certain weapons that are banned from use, did you know? Because they cause unnecessary suffering.”

“What does that have to do with—” Speak truth. “I don't.”

“Well, where I come from, the leader of the country, so to speak, banned things like… poisonous gases and anything that could be used to set things on fire intentionally. They recognised that even in war, there were certain boundaries one must keep and self regulate on a constant basis, as to not misuse the power given to them to oppress the weak and harmless.”

This was truth. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“To let you know that even if violence is the answer, it should not be wielded around carelessly, driven by rage.” Her eyes glittered, like there was gold amongst dirt there. “That people are always finding ways to lessen your pain even if they have to hurt you anyway. And you will not be exempt of that judgement.”

Kennyo did not growl fire like a dragon, but he whimpered like a whipped dog who did not know what he did wrong. “Violence is effective—” 

“Violence is quick. It is not effective, nor is it efficient.” Reika exhaled, her breath fogging like the greyed lenses of the windows. “It is not as if I do not recognise what kind of monster Nobunaga is,” she said quietly. “But he is a kind of monster that can live with himself. He has gotten used to his claws and sharp teeth. You are…” She paused. “You are meant to be something else for this world.”

“I don't know how I can live as myself while other people are needlessly dying at the expense of my passivity.” He furrowed his brows, his anger spent at her rather naive way of looking at things. 

Reika smiled, and it was the hint of something new, the smell of fern and lime and her eyes that did not shy away from his. A reckoning that started from a small stream. “I think you've forgotten. I am Reika, tsukumogami of the wisdom you seek.”

She took a green book from the shelves, and he'd recognised it before. She splayed the pages open and pushed it in front of him. 

“Read.”

[lucy-and-loki]

Hello everybody! This is my submission for the Far Cry 5 fanzine ‘Tales From the Bunker’, which can be downloaded for free! it was a pleasure to work with you all on this project, and I especially had a lot of fun making all the titles, character prepper stash gems and trigger warning graphics for all your fics :D

A massive thank you to @farcrying for the beautiful illustration and to @unclefungusthegoat for putting this project together!

Please also check it out on AO3!

Title: long live the weeds and the wilderness yet

Pairing: Rachel/Tracey, Faith/Tracey

Synopsis: Years after the world changed forever, Tracey Lader reminisces about her stint at Breakthough Camp for Troubled Young People... and the silver-tongued girl who’d lain down in the grass beside her.

Word Count: 883

Tags: Written like a Tracey’s Travels note, referenced drug use, referenced child abuse, POV First Person, the world needed more Rachel/Tracey and I’m happy to provide

                                                          * * * * *

At orientation, they’d told us we’d probably die young.

The folks at Breakthrough Camp never were ones to mince their words. Apparently, we’d needed the harsh truths of life, if we were ever to get ourselves back on the ‘right path’. Needed to come together as ‘troubled young people’, to ensure we went on to lead long, productive and righteous lives.

Rachel and I... to the rest of the world, we were the definition of troubled. And that had made them all the more desperate to detox even the slightest hint of rebellion from us.

Two weeks into our ‘rehabilitation’, they’d tried to get us to make flower chains.

Supposedly it ‘grounded us in nature’. Made us appreciate the world for all of its beauty, so we wouldn’t drug ourselves into a stupor just to escape it.

Of course, we hadn’t seen it like that. There seemed something pretty messed up about making your own shackles, especially when you were trapped in some watered down, saccharine version of juvie. We ditched them first chance we got. Ended up sprawled on the recreation field instead. Out of earshot and away from the disappointed gazes of the camp leaders.

Rachel had lain quietly in the long grass, unconcerned about getting stains on her back. I had sat beside her, hood up, resolutely ignoring the beads of sweat forming at my hairline.

“I hate flowers.”

Her voice had been soft, but her words had been sharply punctuated by the dirt she’d torn up from the ground and tossed aside. I hadn’t been surprised. Not when she’d told me her parents spent more time locked in their greenhouses, tending to their orchids, than they did tending to their child.

She’d even sworn to me once that her parents tested out their floral medicines on her.

I could never quite work out if she was telling the truth.

Something about this statement had rung false too.

“What the fuck’s that then?”

I had pointed back towards our cabin. Atop the window sill, bathed in hot summer sunlight, had sat a potted flower. Other than her clothes, it was the only thing Rachel had brought with her from home.

She’d looked me right in the eyes.

“A moonflower. It’s a weed.” As if I could tell the difference. A small, sad smile had crept onto her face. “Unwanted and unloved...like us.”

And poisonous, as I would come to realise.

Weeks later, we had left the camp more determined than ever to live the way we wanted to. Like weeds, we would stubbornly root ourselves into the earth, track marks on our arms and pure bliss in our bloodstreams. It was us against the world. Blocking out the ticking clock of mortality, and embracing the short lives we knew we’d been saddled with.

Rachel had said she would follow me anywhere. And follow she did; to California and back, and through the tall, iron gates of Eden.

Until one day, she didn’t.

I escaped from the jaws of Hell before it all really went to shit. Turned my back on the destructive promises Rachel and I had made to one another. Somehow found my way to a path that looked vaguely like the one they’d told us about at Breakthrough Camp all those years ago. I remember thinking the camp leaders would’ve been proud. Especially when I’d stood side by side with them, gun in my hand, fighting for the world they believed in.

In my own way, I had blossomed.

But Rachel...Rachel embraced her nature. On the outside - barefoot, and in bridal-white lace - she was as beautiful as I had ever seen her. When she spoke, I could almost hear the same girl I’d known for so long. Gentle and naive, preaching of peace. But, in truth, she had thrived; worming into places she wasn’t wanted, spreading like nettle rash on skin. Burying herself into the minds of people who’d once treated her like trash.

They called her the Father’s faithful flower girl. Finally needed. Finally loved. She’d even worn pink petals on her dress. Made me wonder whether I’d ever truly known her at all.

Clearly she hadn’t known me. Not if she’d gone looking for love, when it was there - hood up and reclined in the long grass - beside her all along.

Years later, and far from Hope County, I would sit and stare out of my cabin window. Savouring the quiet; thinking about how fucked up the world had truly become. Still amazed that, somehow, I had lasted long enough to witness the dawn of a new era.

I left everything behind when I finally decided to break free. Left the ruins of my house, my car, and what remained of Fall’s End. I even scattered my old photo collection around for people to find. Pieces of not-so-buried treasure, to remind everyone of how it once was. To show them the harsh truths of the new world, so they would begin to find their way back to better paths.

I left everything.

Everything except my worn comfy hoodie, one of Virgil’s buttons, now rusty and faded...and a rare moonflower, that sat on my window sill in a shell-shattered pot.

Withered, browning, and abandoned to wilt in the blazing sunshine, far before it’s time.

[an-ambivalent]

Hi, can i request a scenario? It's okay if you don't do it :) Can you make depressed and lonely yandere! Artist! Tae falling in love with his s/o? Thank you :")

Hello! Sorry this took ages, and this turned out to be quite different to what I thought of writing it as, or you requested. Sorry about that :’D I hope you still like this though! 

This is very slightly loosely based off Barbie as Rapunzel 

Warning: As this  contains yandere themes, the characters display behaviors that can be triggering or uncomfortable to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fiction. I do not believe any of the mentioned members would display any sort of this behaviour irl, nor do I condone this sort of behaviour.

Pairings: Yandere! Taehyung x Reader | Yoonji x Reader

Word Count: 4.9K

Xanadu Of Strokes

Art was a peculiar thing – it was such a broad term that held significant meaning and value to many. But at the same time, it was also perceived as an insignificant subject with no worth, and seen as a complete waste of time. One person may believe that art is mere sketching, while most tend to have a general understanding that it included painting, music, writing, dancing and more – it was a vast definition that was limited only by one’s imagination; art was a self expression that allowed one to explore the darkest version of themselves, and express that secretive dark self of them through symbols, words, and actions without fearing judgement. 

Taehyung  was someone who held art dearly to his heart. To him, art was as essential as breathing – it meant everything to him. Art was his only means of expressing himself in the life where he was allowed to show no emotion. Similarly, in the life where he had little to no freedom, and no means of leaving the four walls that constantly confined him, a single paint brush was his only means of escape. 

It was exhilarating – to be able to escape into the world of his own creation and be the most respected and powerful person. It was a facade fictional ideal he used to cope with the powerlessness he could likely never overcome in this current reality. He was all but a simple man who had been kept captive for as long as he could remember. In a gigantic and tall tower that loomed over everything in the middle of nowhere, where he had been cut off from the outside his entire life, his capturer Min Yoonji,  had kept his freedom limited to one room. Miss. Yoonji had claimed that it was too dangerous for someone like Taehyung to be outside, that his being and what he had to offer, was too good for anyone except for her to see. 

For some strange reason, she had a weird obsession with his hair. While he did not mind, Taehyung found it strange how she always forced him to keep his hair one specific length – never shorter or longer than its current length. Each day, morning and night, she would run her fingers through his soft locks, wash it in a specific way, talk about how beautiful it was, and how it was going to be the big break she needed to finally make her mark in the world. She treated his hair as if it was cultivating some sort of magic. 

Unbeknownst to Taehyung, his hair was magical. Yoonji was an obsessive aspiring fashion designer. Each time she crafted an outfit and integrated a lock of Taehyung’s hair in her designed outfits, they would become engulfed in white light before quickly transforming and taking a life of their own. She eagerly looked forward to the day when she would complete her fashion line, and release her unique clothes into the world. 

Presently, Taehyung had finished another painting with his one and only brush. Just like what painting and his own art to mean, the brush he used felt like it was his life line. Ever since he found it, Taehyung made sure to keep this brush his own secret and hidden away from Yoonji at all costs – it was his only ticket to getaway in order to keep himself sane. Not to mention, the brush painted whatever Taehyung  imagined as an actual artwork, and it was artwork that lived and breathed. 

Taehyung made it a habit to paint only cities or certain places with intricate details. That way, he could visit the cities he had created, and its’ people in it. He was able to experience the world of his creations taking on their life, and relish in the world where he was not a powerless isolated human, but where he had all the power. 

One thing that Taehyung failed to realize was that his “hobby” of going into his paintings that he created was something that was beginning to develop into an obsession. Especially since the more time he spent in his paintings, which increased with each visit, a part of his soul was left behind in the world of his artwork. This would continue to be so until his whole soul would solely exist in that fantasy realm, and he could no longer return to his reality. 

Out of all the world’s he had painted, and by extension, visited, Xanadu was his favourite. It was where people were at their loviest, art was at its finest, etiquette was its richest, and him, Kim Taehyung, was the strongest. 

People bowed at his feet, and worshiped him for he was their God, their ruler; it was only in this world that his talent as an artist was acknowledged. Everyone appreciated his artworks as blessings the way they should, and would kill to have him paint for them. 

But most importantly, it was the world where his most beloved, who he treasured more than his brush, lived. The world where his most beautiful, and his favourite piece he had ever created breathed.

You were the main reason Taehyung spent hours upon hours locked in Xanadu, and spent enough time that he was beginning to lose his soul. 

Like he always did during this time of the day, Taehyung walked towards one of the walls in his room. A big, loose, rusty red and gold cloth was draped on the wall to hide the world that laid behind; Xanadu. 

With the back of his hand, Taehyung moved the cloth aside. His eyes that were usually lacking of interest and life, glowed with a lustrous wonder and excitement. His heart-shaped lips stretched into a wide grin. With much practice now by his side, he had become accustomed to travelling between fantasy and reality. 

Eyebags that had appeared underneath his eyes were much more prominent than they had been ever before. It was a sign that indicated how he was close to losing the last few fragments of his soul. For a mere second, his eyes glistened a dangerous and chilling blue. It disappeared as soon as it had appeared, and Taehyung allowed his hand to be absorbed into the painting, before his whole body slipped into it. 

The moment Taehyung entered Xanadu, a bright light glowed throughout his entire body. His shabby appearance which consisted of being dressed in a huge, baggy, and poor-quality robe that reached his ankles, and a white loose and baggy pants underneath it, morphed into a gold tux that radiated extravagance. There were white cuffs near the end of the sleeves towards the hands, and they folded inwards. His appearance, apart from his hair, which was usually unkempt, glistened with life and glowed. Lastly, unlike how his hair was more on the longer side in reality, in Xanadu, it was shorter, and hence easier to deal with. 

Whenever Taehyung entered Xanadu, he always landed in the same area: a small clearing field off of an alley, which was off the main street of Xanadu. As he was the only person who left and entered this world, he was the only one who knew of this. Taehyung’s mahogany eyes ran over his attire of today, and he soothed down his tux. He patted the inner breast pocket of his tux, and when he felt his treasured brush, the corner of his lips twitched upward in a satisfied smirk. 

Walking out of the grass, and the alley leading from the clearing to the main streets, Taehyung kept himself hidden in the overcasting shadows of the alley. Once he saw the opportunity, Taehyung entered amongst the strolling civilians of Xanadu, who roamed the streets for various purposes. 

The common attire worn in Xanadu consisted of clothes that one would categorize as formal in his reality. For this reason, Taehyung did not stand out with the way he chose to dress. It was not until he walked on the familiar path that led to his abode in this world, passing by people who he was acquainted with, did the word float around that their master had arrived to bestow them. 

As Taehyung walked past Miss Camila’s fruit store, the petite older female waved at him with a wide smile, and he returned her gesture with just as much friendliness.  This sudden exchange between the two caused the customers in her immensely busy store to turn towards the direction of her wave. 

They gasped when they noticed it was the notorious artist. Not wanting to be in their line of sight more than necessary, Taehyung continued on his way. As he passed more locals, and spared a few seconds of his precious time to greet them, onlookers ended up halting in the midst of what they were doing simply to gawk at his brilliance. 

When he had first started to visit Xanadu, and then later, begin travelling down this road to this actual home, Taehyung was more than happy to stop and entertain NPC’s and invest his entire time with them. However, now, he did not want to spare even a single more second than necessary – if any. This was because the more time he would give to them, meant the less time he had with you. Especially with Yoonji breathing down his neck on the other side. He could not even begin to imagine what she would do if she found him missing, and learned about the fat that Taehyung was able to escape, or what his brush could do. 

It was not long until after a few turns to the left and right, away from the main crowds and towards the secluded area where there was almost no one, that Taehyung reached his desired destination. 

His home he stood before was small, composed of mahogany brown wood. The windows were visible at the exterior of the house and the entrance door was painted white. The roof was dirty green, and next to the steps that led to the entrance, were vast types of flowers and plants. The darker hue of brown, and dirty green contrasted well against the darker leaves, lighter brown branches of trees that surrounded his home; it appeared to be quite cozy. 

Taehyung walked up the steps of his abode, unlocked the front door, and stepped in. Then, he gave the premises around his home one last glance to make sure no one had seen him enter it, before he closed the door. He shrugged off the coat of his tux and hung it on the coat holder. Then, he proceeded to walk through the living room, up a flight of stairs, before he unlocked a room and entered it. In that room, on the large king-sized bed that was in the middle of the lavish room, laid a woman, whom’s arms and legs were tied to the bed with soft crimson silk. 

As Taehyung moved closer to the bed, his lips were beginning to stretch into a fond smile. He was finally here. After so long, he could finally see, touch, and be happy with his beloved once again. 

Whether it was something he had not realized, or knew but chose to ignore for the sake of it, but what Taehyung did to you, was exactly what Yoonji did to him which he despised her for immensely. He stripped you off your freedom and caged you as his captive. That was all good though because unlike Taehyung, you were not real. You existed as his creation and therefore, for him. There was no need for you to be your own person, or have your own life when you could just exist for Taehyung, and to keep him satisfied. 

Your eyes, tired and filled with desperate need, fluttered open as Taehyung sat by you, and gently brushed his fingers against the soft skin of your skin, to inform you of his arrival. 

“Time to wake up sweetheart, I’m finally here. I’m sorry I took longer than last time. I tried to be as fast as I could, I’m sorry that I barely only made it when you’re on the verge of dying from starvation and dehydration. I promise I’ll be faster next time. Here have some water first,” Taehyung murmured, as he held out a glass to you. Conditioned to be obedient to his every word, you obliged and started to slowly slip the water instantly. Then, after another glass of water, he started to feed you some bread. You ate it without any complaints, or putting up a struggle. 

See, since long time ago, you learned your lesson the hard way and now knew that it was best to let Taehyung do whatever he wanted, and allow him to have his way. The consequences of struggling against him, when he would always be granted to be the victor, was not worth it. Besides, like he had mentioned, you were literally on the brink of death. And so, the only thing that mattered to you right now was having access to water so it would not feel like you were living in a dry desert in your own body, and to have food in your stomach so you would not feel so utterly weak and sick. 

Frankly speaking, your situation was horrendous. But to Taehyung, it was delusionally perfect and something that was the best for you both. You did not know why he did this, or why he felt the way he did, but Taehyung wanted to do everything for you. Feeding you, changing you, washing you, and everything else – nothing was an exception to this rule. With his smothering presence that breathed down your neck every second of the day, you had absolutely no privacy. He treated you as if you were an incompetent baby, and he was the overbearing parent who could not help but spoil you to the point where he literally did do everything for you. 

Initially, such loss of your own autonomy was downright humiliating for you. You had never been forced into such confinement from someone as controlling as Taehyung before, who left you feeling completely helpless and powerless. You desperately wished there would be way you could rescue yourself, or have someone rescue from the devil’s clutches that belonged to Kim Taehyung. 

It was ironic really – Taehyung believed that the people of Xanadu respected him and worshiped him because he claimed to be the creator of some sort and it was out of their love for him. However, that was not the case. Everyone seemingly kissed the ground he walked on out of fear, and because they had to. Your ruler had heard from other cities that no longer existed about what happened to them when they refused to bow before the outsider in gold who claimed to be their creator. In anger, with the aid of the brush of creation by his side, he had annihilated their entire civilizations. Now, Xanadu, had no choice but to entertain his delusional ideas,  and for your own sake, and your people’s, you were the one who had it the worst and had to go along with all of his schemes, and at the cost of your entire life, entertain his sick ideas of love. 

It disgusted you to your core. Especially the thought of how an outsider from the other side could have gotten their hands on the brush of creation, travel to your world, claim it to be their creation, and continue to travel to this side and be willing to lose their soul in order to do so – it was all too much to think about, and even revolting at some point. 

You just wished Taehyung could disappear so you and other inhabitants of Xanadu could live in peace and with your freedom once again. 

“You’re such a good girl for me,” Taehyung murmured, his eyes eerily wide, as he petted your head in approval. Then, abruptly, he leaned down and licked some of the crumbs that were on the corner of your lips. It took your entire will-power to not grimace as he did this. 

Shortly after, Taehyung moved away from you, and gave you a sweet smile. If it was not for everything he had done to you, you would have actually found it sweet, and maybe cute. But after being forced to dance with this devil and getting burned, you knew it was anything but sweet or cute. 

“You’ve been really strong and good by patiently waiting for me the entire last few days and doing exactly what I say. You definitely deserve a reward for your current behaviour. Now, before I do this, I’m going to explain a few things, and if you fail to listen to me you will pay the price. Do I make myself clear?” He enquired, and you mindlessly nodded. Although, in the pit of your stomach, butterflies churned in an uncomfortable way that filled you with anxiety, and made you want to puke.  After all, who knows what sort of revolting things Taehyung considered a ‘reward.’ 

“I’m going to untie your bindings and let you roam around in the house,” He started, and your eyes widened in surprise. Almost instantly, a grin started to form on your lips. You were unable to control your reaction, and as this happened, Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you because you had never smiled like that for him. 

“And I’ll be leaving you to your own devices for a bit while I go and buy something for a special time together since it’s been a while since we’ve done anything together. While I’m gone, and I leave you alone, do you promise to stay within your limits? No attempting to runaway, hurt yourself, or make a plan to hurt me. Can I trust you to do that?” Taehyung asked, his voice etched with caution. 

You were having a difficult time grasping the fact that he was going to allow you to have freedom. Not wanting to let such a rare opportunity slip from your hands, you nodded. 

He was hesitant for a few seconds, before he sighed, and eventually reached out to untie the harshly binding silk cloth. As his fingers brushed against your bruised wrists, you held your breath in anticipation. He intertwined his finger in the cloth, before his movements halted, and his eyes averted to yours. He gazed into your eyes with an intense gaze, and promises of danger swam in his mahogany coloured irises. 

“I’ll remind you in case you forget. Remember, the fate of your entire country rests in your hands. You make one wrong move, you do one thing that aggravates me, and I’ll make sure no one else exists in this country anymore. No one else but us. As much as it hurts me to say this,  you don’t want that do you?” He said posing a looming threat over you with his words. 

You inwardly winced. 

“N-No,” You responded, and looked down towards your body in order to avoid Taehyung’s gaze. 

Taehyung nodded in approval. 

“Good, then make sure to keep up your good behaviour,” He said, before he untied all of your bindings. Afterwards, he leaned closer to you, and kissed you forcefully, and for longer than you would have liked him to. However, with freedom finally being just at the tip of your fingertips, you knew better than to mess up now. 

Once Taehyung pulled away, his cheeks feeling hot, he gave you one last grin, before getting up, and making his way out of your room, and out of the house. 

“I’ll see you soon my love,” He said, and walked out. 

Even after the sound of the front door being shut and locked resonated throughout the household, signalling that Taehyung had left, you remained seated on the bed. You were lost in your thoughts due to still being unable to grasp the fact that you were not tied up like a caged dog anymore. It wasn’t until the noise of your bedroom’s door knob being fiddled with in an attempt to open it reached your ears were you forced out of your train of thoughts. 

Your eyes widened because what? You lived alone the majority of the time, and had been for who knows how long due to your captivity. The only person who visited you was Taehyung, and always in utter desperation to see you, he would just walk in straight away. Fiddling with the door knob was NOT his style which only meant one thing… Someone was breaking in. 

Did that… did that mean they were going to hurt you? 

You did not get a chance to ponder on this because the door was kicked open harshly, and someone who looked oddly familiar, but you could never recall ever meeting her, strolled in. 

She had straight hair that ended at her neck and looked to be quite soft and silky. Her bangs ended just past her eyebrows. She wore a full sleeve white ruffle top, and on top of her top, a brown leather waist cincher hugged her waist. You noticed how unlike waist cincher that inhabitants often wore, her’s had locks of hair woven into it. She wore baggy dark brown pants, and long brown leather boots that reached just beneath her knees. Lastly, she wore fingerless gloves, and there were a variety of weapons attached to her hip: two daggers, a gun, and a sword. It was as if she was on a mission to haunt somebody. 

All to soon, her eyes shifted to your quivering form. There was a dangerous aura of a predator radiating off her. Cautiously, her eyes scanned your figure up and down to examine if you posed as a threat in anyway. Momentarily, unbeknownst to you, her gaze focused on your wrists that were heavily bruised since you had been tied up for so long. Her eyes narrowed into a glare at that observation, before they shifted to your face. 

She felt sorry for you. 

“Out of everything, Xanadu was the last place I expected Taehyung to be hiding in. And you to be last reason I could ever imagine being his reason for escaping. I’m surprised; didn’t expect someone as sheltered as him to have such good taste,” She said, while the last sentence was muttered more to herself. At the unexpected compliment, your cheeks reddened. You didn’t give it too much thought though because at the moment, there was a bigger fish to fry. You didn’t miss out on the fact that she had said Taehyung’s name. 

Having the courage you did not know you had to voice the questions you wondered about, you spoke. 

“W-Who are you? And how do you know him? Are you here to keep an eye on me to make sure I don’t do anything while he’s gone?!“ 

Seeing the unease and worry on your face, in addition with the questions you asked, caused her to raise an eyebrow. 

“What? Me, a spy for Taehyung? Don’t make me laugh. I want him gone, permanently. I’m Min Yoonji. I would tell you about my relationship with Taehyung but you might be a spy for him,” She retorted. 

Immediately, you scoffed. 

“The last thing he would have me as would be a spy. I’m nothing but fancy decor for him – he has had me locked up for ages and has taken my entire dignity from me. I would never associate myself with a monster like him if Xanadu’s safety didn’t depend on the fact that I have to play pretend as his submissive,” You uttered bitterly, looking down at your lap. 

Yoonji’s eyes widened, and her eyes roamed to your back that was slightly exposed due to your bent position. The numerous cuts and bruises that covered it caused anger to rise in her, and she clenched her fist. 

You looked so broken, so lost, so hurt. Seeing such an expression on your face, the fact that one of her people she had failed to protect, suffered at the hands of an outsider, made her chest feel heavy in sorrow. 

She walked towards you, and went down on one knee so she would be at your eye level. Then, her hand grabbed yours, and her fingers intertwined with yours; she squeezed your hands gently yet firmly in reassurance. 

“What’s your name?” She asked, and you looked up and found yourself staring into her eyes. Unlike before, when her eyes were narrowed at you into a cold stone and apathetic stare, they were now etched with warmth. A bright shine that made you feel as if that now, you weren’t alone anymore, and that now, she would make sure everything was going to be okay, illuminated her eyes. 

“[Surname] [Name],” You answered, and noticed that there was a slight crack in your voice, and you felt like you were on the verge of crying. 

Yoonji smiled sweetly at you. 

“That’s a beautiful name. Say [Name], do you know about the prophecy?” She wondered, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“What prophecy?” 

“The prophecy of the outsider who would come to possess the brush of creation and pose a threat to the inside realm and to people like us. Just like you, I’m from Xanadu. I’m the next heir for our country, but the information about my existence was never made public. You see, I’ve been raised as a fighter, because according to the prophecy, only a royal blood who has been outside can stop the painter that seeks the destruction – who is Taehyung. Before returning home, I did my best to keep him locked up and weak in the outside world so he couldn’t come here. 

“But evidently, my plan has failed since he still somehow managed to get his hands on our brush and not only destroy other countries, but hurt you, one of my people I am meant to protect. I am deeply ashamed of my failures and for allowing you to get hurt. I don’t know if this will allow me to gain your forgiveness, but as a personal victim of Taehyung, I at least should tell you of all people. 

“I have cultivated Taehyung’s hair and woven them into many clothes which will protect us from the magic of brush. Not only that, but Taehyung’s lost his soul. So with no more spiritual energy to offer, his bond has weakened and it won’t be long before he is unable to wield the brush. He’s weakening so no matter what he tries, I will easily take him down. Then, everyone of us can be free and live our own lives without fearing Taehyung again,” Yoonji reassured smiling. You would have gasped loudly still trying to get your head around all the information Yoonji told you had it not been that you two got interrupted by the very person you both despised. 

“You must be delusional if you think I’ll just let you hurt me Yoonji,” Taehyung greeted in a hiss, and both Yoonji’s and your eyes snapped towards him. 

Your eyes widened in fear, while Yoonji stood up to her full height, and faced him standing in front of you, with her back turned towards you in order to hide you from him. Confidence oozed out of her, and although you could not see her expression, she smirked. 

“I don’t have to hurt you. The brush will hurt you for me. Your eyes are glowing blue Taehyung, you use it one more time and you’ll be gone. It would be in your best interest to give up and hand over Xanadu back to me,” Yoonji warned, as she unsheathed her sword, and prepared to duel. 

Taehyung smirked. 

“If I’m a goner, then I’m taking all of you with me, especially you [Name]. You’re mine! I won’t let anyone else have you or Xanadu. I created you so I get to decide what I do with you,” Taehyung stated, as he prepared to paint the end with the brush of creation he had in his hand. 

You whimpered, and out of fear, went to hold onto Yoonji. However, as you tried to grab onto what you would have assumed to be Yoonji’s clothes, you found yourself trying to grab onto thin air. 

You gasped when you saw Yoonji running towards Taehyung in a blinding speed, and before you even had the chance to blink, she had kicked at the back of his knees causing him to drop onto the floor. Then, she with the hilt of the sword, she hit brush of creation out of his hands, before grabbing both of his hands and twisting it behind his arm. Taehyung yelled in pain as Yoonji pushed him onto the ground. Then, she held her sword to his neck. 

“One wrong move, and I’ll kill you right here and right now,” She started in a warning. Simultaneously, she pricked his skin with the tip of her sword, causing him to hiss in pain, as miniscule amount of blood leaked out from the minor cut. 

“Kim Taehyung, you are under arrest for destroying countries and threatening the safety and peace of Xanadu,” She declared, before pausing to turn her eyes to you. 

Then finally, she said the words you would have killed to hear. 

“You’re safe and free now. I swear on my life to protect Xanadu and its’ people to make sure it stays that way.” 

________

Please share your thoughts :)

[maresyluna]

Returning to Family

A cool breeze rustled the treetops in Elwynn, a sort of whispered hush that dared to disrupt the sleepy morning hours. The horse’s trots emerged from that hushing sound and it traveled down the road from Stormwind toward the farmlands by the river. The horse moved confidently, familiar with the road it walked on. Its rider, however, was not.

Alessandro wrapped his tattered blue cloak around him, his demeanor rather down, his hands trembling as he grabbed the reins tightly. He had been back from the battlefields for two weeks, but this was the first time he was going to see his sister. She still believed that he was still out fighting, but she would be surprised today. 

He arrived at the farm and he led his horse into a pen in the barn. The animals in the barn moved a bit, recognizing the familiar man. Then, he made his trek to the family home, where he saw the flowers outside blooming and the pinwheels spinning gently. Bells tinkled in the breeze and Alessandro slowly walked up to the steps, each step causing him more anxiety. It was suddenly difficult to breathe and he gripped at the cloak at his chest and a hand leaned against the door frame.

He could hear the groans of men and the cries of many who had seen their fellow brothers at arms fall. He could hear the King calling them back and the crashing barrels of blight that spread the burning fumes and ooze throughout the land. He could smell the rancid stench of death and he could see the eyes of deceased fighters staring at him as they rose from the green-tainted ground. Alessandro gasped for breath, his eyes shut tightly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Alex?”

Alessandro opened his eyes and looked up, his golden-brown eyes peeking from behind long dark strands of hair. His sister was standing behind the open door, tears forming in her eyes. He managed a smile and tried to take a deep breath. “Lucy…”

The dark-haired woman ran out of the doorway and hugged her brother tightly. “Blessed Light, you’re home!” She kissed his face and hugged him again. “I hadn’t heard from you and we heard so many …horrific stories. I didn’t know where you were. Oh, thank the Light! Come inside!” Lucrezia tugged at her brother’s arm and pulled him inside. “Mark! Mark, it’s Alex!”

Two children ran into the room. “Uncle Alex!” cried Anton, reaching out to hug the knight. The little girl ran toward him too, wanting to get picked up. Alessandro smiled and picked the little girl who wrapped her little arms around him. Alessandro reached out and hugged Anton. The little boy smiled until he saw the knight’s hands. “Ew! What happened to your hands?” He moved away from his uncle, curiously yet rudely pondering twisted web-like designs on his hands. The little girl turned to look at the hands and her finger traced one of the web-like design, but she did not react the way her brother did. 

“It’s…nothing,” Alessandro said, gently placing the little girl down on the floor. Frightened, the little boy took his sister’s hand and pulled her away from their uncle. Alessandro sighed and sat at the dinner table. Lucrezia sat beside Alessandro and she reached out to look at his hands. “What happened?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“It…was an accident. I’m…I’m fine,” he said quickly.

“Accident? Alex, your cloak is in shambles! Alex, what happened to you?”

“War, Lucy. War happened.”

Lucrezia rose and walked to a cabinet where she took a large box from within. “I was waiting for you to return so that I could give you this.” She placed the box in front of him and sat nearby. Alessandro opened the box and saw a blue cloak, just like the one he wore. Alessandro smiled and looked at his sister. 

“Thank you.”

Lucrezia took the cloak and removed his tattered one, replacing it with the new one. “There. You look presentable, although your hair needs a trim and your beard….yikes.” She smiled at her joke, but Alessandro’s pained look on his face ended it all too quickly. With the children in the other room with their father, Lucrezia leaned closer to her brother. “What happened?”

Alessandro glanced at the other room and he sighed. “It was bad, Lucy. The burning of the Great Tree, the Battle for Lordaeron…bad.” Bad was an understatement, but he was not able to put into words what he had seen and felt. “I lost a lot of friends and fellow soldiers. I…I wasn’t able to save them all.” He closed his eyes and he saw green, bright green that seemed to get closer to him. 

Lucrezia noticed that he began to shake and then he jumped a bit. “But you’re not there anymore, Alex.”

“But I am, Lucy…every day, here…” He tapped his head with his damaged hands. He looked at his hands and placed them on the table. “And here. I wasn’t able to rescue him…” He looked away and sighed. “I lost so many people, Lucy.”

“Alex, it’s war. Of course people will die…”

“I was supposed to help them!”

Lucrezia reached out and touched his hurt hands. Alessandro winced and he shook his head, trying to tell her not to touch her. She did, nonetheless. Her fingers wrapped around her brother’s hands and she felt as he collapsed onto the table. She quickly moved closer to him and she supported his fragile form as the knight cried on her shoulder. “It’s ok, Alex. You’re safe now.” She held her brother for a moment and wiped the tears from his face. 

“I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t breathe,” he whispered. 

His sister hugged him tightly, her own tears falling onto the table. She had brief flashes of memories when she last held her brother this way. Their mother had just passed and Alessandro felt so guilty. “Thank the Light you are back home,” she said gently. She heard her brother scoff at her words and her eyebrows lifted a bit. 

“The Light didn’t save them that day…” 

Lucrezia worried about her brother’s mental state, but she did not want to anger him nor frighten him, so she simply kissed his head and held him. She remembered his dog. “Rusty is out in the back, waiting for you.” Alessandro did not move. “Have you seen Elena? Does she know you’re back?”

He shook his head. “I’m…afraid to see her.”

“Alex, you should see her. I’m sure she would calm your nerves. She may even be horribly worried about you, especially if you haven’t spoken to her.”

“What if I am a disappointment to her?” he whispered.

Lucrezia chuckled softly. “How could you be a disappointment to anyone?” She reached across the table and placed her hands on her brother’s face. “Listen to me, Alex: you are a blessing to this wretched world. You make everyone’s day a little better, which is a lot more than we can say about others out there. We need people like you, but right now, you need us to help you feel better. Go see Elena.”

“And if she doesn’t want to see me anymore?” Alessandro said softly, his heart breaking unnecessarily. 

“Then she has missed out on a wonderful man, and you will find another woman who will appreciate you for who you are in your heart. But as of now, you have no idea what her reaction will be. Go.”

The children and Lucrezia’s husband walked into the room and the little girl climbed onto her uncle’s lap. She examined his hands and looked at Alessandro. “You okay?”

The knight smiled at the little girl and nodded. “I will be, Brianna. Thank you for caring, love.” The family gathered around the table and shortly after, they ate dinner, celebrating the fact that Alessandro had survived his time out in the field and he was alive and well.

(mention: @elena-lambourne

[flipomatic]

Reason to Stay: Chapter 10

Author Note: I wrote this chapter while on the plane to Chara.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

The next morning Sayo had guard duty once again. She was able to find the right schedule in the guard headquarters since there was only one sheet with her name on it. Unfortunately, that would only last for the first week. It had Sayo marked for the 8:00-12:00 shift, so she made sure to show up in the tower right on time. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a guard there to relieve from the previous shift.

Sayo took her post in the early morning sun, looking out over the city as it woke up for the day. On the top of the walls, things were quiet. Just like the day before, there was no trouble.

The shift soon passed, sending Sayo off to her second lunch in the castle. Today’s meal was a chicken dish of some kind; Sayo wasn’t quite sure what it was called. She sat at a different empty table than before, but still ended up with the same group of people. They surprised her when they sat down, but it wasn’t terrible to eat with other people. She mostly listened to their conversations, specifically to Lisa and Ako who talked the most in the group.

After eating, it was time for Sayo to head to the kitchen. She already knew how to find it since she’d been there a couple times before, which was good. She hoped nobody there would remember how bad her potato cuts were for the party.

When Sayo entered the kitchen the same five people were present as before, including Tsugumi and Saya. Tsugumi looked up when Sayo walked into the room, brown eyes widening.

“Oh, hi Sayo.” Tsugumi hesitated in the middle of a chopping motion, but quickly resumed moving. “So this is what Ran meant by a surprise.” She murmured under her breath.

“What was that?” Sayo couldn’t quite hear her and asked for clarification.

Tsugumi smiled sheepishly and shook her head. “It’s nothing.” She waved her free hand in a dismissive manner.

“Alright.” Sayo wasn’t going to push for a better answer. “I’m here to help out. I’ve been assigned to the kitchen for a couple hours each day.”

“That’s great, we could use the help.” A smile graced Tsugumi’s face, and Sayo was struck once again with how disarming this woman managed to be without even trying. “Could you get a few sacks of wheat from the storehouse? It’s near the stables.”

Sayo nodded, already plotting the directions to the stable in her mind. “I’ll take care of it.” She said before turning and exiting the kitchen.

The stables were on the other side of the dining hall, in the southeast corner of the castle. It only took Sayo a few minutes to arrive there, and once she did she had to locate the storehouse. She tried a few doors in the hallway that connected the stables to the rest of the castle.

On the third door she found some of the stored food. It consisted primarily of dried crops, with a large portion being wheat. The sacks were about 50 kg each, so Sayo could carry them one at a time.

She grabbed one and got to work, hauling them one by one to the kitchen. Tsugumi told her where to stack them, so she made a pile.

After five trips, Sayo was sent to get water from the well. It was on the west side of the building, pretty close to where Ran’s office was. The kitchen had their own special bucket for fetching water, which Sayo carried with her back and forth to the well. All of that archery training gave her strong arms, though it didn’t stop her from feeling fatigued from the work.

After fetching enough water for what the kitchen needed, Tsugumi didn’t have any other tasks for her.

“Thanks for your help.” She said after Sayo brought the last bucket of water. “You’re all set for today.”

It had only been a couple hours, so Sayo still had time remaining before dinner would be served. It had been a few days since she trained; maybe that would be the best way to use her time. She remembered seeing people sparring in the courtyard before, but they turned out to be the princess and her personal knight so it probably wouldn’t be a good place to train. Before she left, maybe she should ask Tsugumi?

“Do you know of a place to train within the castle?” Sayo asked the head chef, standing nearby as she cooked something in a pan.

“Umm, I don’t.” Tsugumi shook her head, turning to her other staff. “Saya?”

Saya was in the process of kneading some dough on a nearby counter. “I think there’s a training field just outside stable gate. At least, Tae has mentioned it before.” Tae, was that the same person as Otae? Sayo wasn’t sure, but whether it was in or outside of the castle this training field sounded like it would work.

Sayo thanked the pair of chefs and went on her way. She walked back to the stables and exited the castle through the stable gate. She’d been in the castle for over 24 hours; it had been a long time since she’d stayed in one building for so long.

Once outside of the castle, Sayo looked around for the training field. She had ridden past here when they went to find the bandits, but she hadn’t taken a good look around at that time.

Just to the east of the exit there was indeed a large open field that would be good for training. There was also an unexpected boon. Next to the training field was a small archery range, with a handful of targets set up and some wood booths for archers to stand in. Considering that by their own admission the castle didn’t have many archers, it was an odd find.

Sayo walked over to it with a slight spring in her step, stopping at one of the stands. The target was a good distance away and over flat land; this would be a good place to practice shooting.

She drew her bow, notching an arrow and aiming down the range. Sayo inhaled, and then released. The arrow hit in the second ring on the target; not bad but not good either. She had gotten rusty.

Sayo continued to fire her arrows, retrieving them after every ten shots or so. She worked closer to the center of the target, regaining the muscle memory and skill that had been lost. Despite improving through practice, her shots were never perfect, never reaching mastery.

She tried not to let that bother her, but it always did.

When another person appeared in the stand next to her, Sayo didn’t look over at first. She assumed it was someone else from the castle or a person who lived in town.

They weren’t very good, she thought as she saw some of their shots miss the target completely. Others landed, but in the outer rings of the target.

It wasn’t until Sayo had to go collect her arrows again, and thus had to ask the person to stop shooting for a minute while she collected her arrows, that saw who it was.

As it turned out, Lisa the knight was terrible at archery. When Sayo looked over and saw her, she almost choked on her spit. This Lisa was the same Lisa who led the charge against the bandits and was a menace with the short sword and shield. She also couldn’t hit a target with a bow.

Sayo withheld her comments about Lisa’s archery skills, instead just politely asking her to stop while she collected her arrows. Lisa agreed chipperly, seemingly unbothered by her own incompetence.

After Sayo collected her arrows they both resumed shooting. She spared a glance over at Lisa as she took aim, grimacing at the knight’s posture.

She tried not to let it bother her.

Sayo failed at that. She ended up packing up and heading back to the castle.

Scene 12:

As the next week passed Sayo fell into a routine. She located and read the schedule each morning. Then she’d either go to the tower for guard duty or head to the kitchen to run errands. After the first four hours of the day she’d go eat lunch with the same group of acquaintances, managing each day to refrain from mentioning Lisa’s poor archery skills.

Once lunch was over, she’d swap to the opposite activity, which filled the remainder of her day. She always had extra time after working in the kitchen, so that was when she fit in some training.

On this particular day, one whole week after Sayo moved into the castle, she finished up her kitchen duties with a couple hours to spare. She had purchased some vegetables from the market that they needed for the next day, trying her best to get a good deal on the price.

Sayo was getting ready to leave when something Tsugumi was making caught her eye. Usually she was making some kind of meat or vegetable dish, but this seemed to be something else. It looked like a pastry of some kind. Sayo almost didn’t ask, almost decided she didn’t have time to care.

“What are you making?” Perhaps she cared a little.

“Sugar cookies.” Tsugumi replied as she added additional ingredients to a bowl.

Sayo watched each move Tsugumi made. “It looks complicated.” She commented, having never attempted to make cookies before.

“The recipe makes things easier.” The mixture thickened as Tsugumi stirred it. It was intriguing to Sayo in a way she couldn’t explain.

“How does that mix become cookies?” Sayo asked, unable to resist.

Tsugumi looked down at the bowl, nodding once at her mixture. She grabbed a tray and scraped the dough out onto it, making one large lump. “Once I flatten it, I’ll cut it into shapes and bake it. Those are the last two steps.” She picked up a rolling pin and started rolling it over the dough, pushing it down into a flattened form.

Sayo watched her work. “That’s amazing.” She said, wanting to suck the words back in as soon as they came out of her mouth.

Tsugumi’s cheeks dusted pink as she deflected the complement. “They’re just normal cookies.” She finished rolling and started cutting the dough into standard round shapes. Once that was done, she separated the individual cookies and put the tray into the stone oven.

As Sayo listened, she realized that time had passed and she was still standing here in the kitchen. She had training to do, and as pleasant as watching Tsugumi bake was she needed to get going.

“Thanks for showing me, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sayo ended the conversation as she prepared to leave.

“See you then!” Tsugumi returned the farewell with a smile.

As Sayo left, she hoped that the cookies would be served with dinner. She was sure they’d taste delicious.

Her destination was the training field outside of the castle. Sayo had spent the last week re-honing her archery skills, but her swordsmanship had suffered in the process.

The field was thankfully empty, so no one would see her awful forms. She drew her sword and started her drills, moving between strikes stiffly.

She’d been running the drills for about ten minutes when her practice was interrupted.

“Hey Sayo!” Once again, Lisa had appeared in the practice areas around the same time as Sayo. She’d shown up multiple times over the last week to practice archery near Sayo, though unlike Sayo she didn’t seem to be making any progress. “Not doing archery today?” Lisa carried her bow and arrows.

“No, not today.” Sayo paused in her forms to reply, before quickly resuming.

Lisa didn’t seem to take the hint, approaching even as Sayo continued her drills. “Do you have a minute to talk?” She asked.

Sayo sighed. “I guess.” She said, holstering her sword and turning towards the knight. “What do you need?”

“I was wondering, since you’re such a great archer.” Lisa spoke with a smile, likely meant to be disarming. “If you would be willing to help train me in archery.”

The idea didn’t sound too appealing at first thought. “Why?” Sayo asked, looking for more details and perhaps a reason to accept.

“You probably noticed, but my archery skills are not exactly the best.” Lisa had the dignity to look embarrassed by this fact. “In order to be a better knight and help Yukina, I need to improve.” Her expression softened when she mentioned Yukina.

Sayo wasn’t that impressed. “Not to be blunt, but how will that benefit me?” She wasn’t willing to devote her time to a futile effort, especially when she wasn’t getting anything in return. Nobody here was paying her to train archers.

“Hmm.” Lisa tilted her head thoughtfully, a catlike smile on her face. “I could train you in something in return.” She suggested with one eyebrow raised. “Perhaps in the sword and shield? Yukina is strongest with the two handed sword, but I’m the best shield wielder in the castle.”

This proposition Sayo was willing to listen to. Her own sword work left lots of things to be desired and she wasn’t trained at all to use a shield. Just knowing how to carry and use a shield would increase her life expectancy dramatically. Even if Lisa never improved with the bow, Sayo learning how to use a shield and better her sword work would make it worth it.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Sayo reached out for a handshake, which Lisa accepted.

“Great!” Lisa said as she shook Sayo’s hand firmly. “Want to start today? We can work on those forms you’ve been practicing.” Sayo stepped back, releasing Lisa’s hand.

This partnership was already paying off. “Alright.” Sayo redrew her sword, taking her starting position.

“Before you move, let’s adjust your stance.” Lisa closed the distance between them, pushing Sayo’s sword hand up higher. “Keep this hand up, always.” She then backed away and Sayo started the drill.

For the next hour Lisa guided Sayo through improving her drills, with Sayo making some progress in her stance.

When it became time for dinner they stopped for the night, agreeing to work on Lisa’s archery the next day.

Next Chapter

[lastchancevillagegreen]

Monday, 28 February 2022: 

Field Songs Mark Lanegan (Sub Pop) (released in 2017; originally released in 2001)

This was Lanegan’s fifth and final album for Sub Pop.  When it was released in 2001 it came out only on CD.  It had never been issued on vinyl until the five LP box One Way Street in 2015.  It was then reissued as a stand alone LP in 2017.

You see photos for the album cover, the gatefold and then the back of the jacket. (You might be able to see the price tag on the front of the cover above and you will notice the Rib Brothers charged $27 as if this were a two LP set, which it is not.)  Then you have a photo for the inner sleeve.  I failed to take a photo of the lyric side of the inner sleeve (and now the camera has been absconded by my wife, so I can’t deliver the other side photo until tomorrow if I remember at all).

Next you see the inside of the album jacket where the album slips inside and discover this is a rusty brown inside. 

Next you see both sides of the labels, followed by two hype stickers both telling you that a download code comes with this album (which Sub Pop have stopped doing altogether). 

[the-master-cylinder]

SUMMARY A nuclear war breaks out in 1986, expending the world’s entire nuclear arsenal, except for one missile. Two children, Philip Chandler (John Stockwell) and Marlowe Hammer (Michael Dudikoff), are abandoned by their fathers in a fallout shelter cut into the side of a wooded mountain. The pair grow up in the shelter, with 1950s detective fiction and swing music as the guiding force in their learning. Fifteen years later Marlowe succeeds in digging out the cave entrance. The pair give each other haircuts, dress in suits, and go to rejoin the world.

Philip narrates their adventure on their first day out:

My name’s Philip, and this is going to be a yarn about me and my pal, Marlowe. About the day we got out of this shelter and went off into the post-nuclear world. Now, as excited as we were about leaving the shelter, it was still a joint that held fond memories. I mean, it was the only world we’d ever known. Where I practiced my magic, Marlowe, his dancing; where we both dreamed of becoming private eyes, just like the ones we’d read about.

Marlowe hopes to find their fathers, but Philip is disgruntled that they never returned, and presumes that they are dead. The mountain is now devoid of trees. The first people they find are a trio of radiation burned “mutants” chasing a beautiful woman, Miles Archer (Lisa Blount). They rescue Miles, who kisses Marlowe as a distraction and steals his gun. This backfires, as she drops the activation keys to the last nuclear missile. Miles leaves, and the pair are immediately attacked by a biker gang of bald women in red wigs. Afterwards the boys discover the activation keys, which bears their fathers’ names. This excites Marlowe, but disturbs Philip.

They rescue another young woman, Rusty Mars (Michele Little), from a group of armed children Philip nicknames “disco mutants”. She takes a liking to Philip, and leads the two of them to Edge City which is plagued by gang warfare. Rusty takes them to a dance club, where they are captured by cannibals. They want the nuclear keys, and to eat the young men, a rarity of uncontaminated meat. Although Rusty helps them escape and apologises, Philip doesn’t trust her. Just after they part ways the pair meets up with a friend of Miles’ who also wants the keys. After he is dispatched Miles shows up and takes them to her hideout. There she tells them about the purpose of the keys. Miles then threatens to kill them, but they escape.

Rusty has followed them to the hideout, but is attacked by the child gangsters. The pair chase them away, but Philip still doesn’t trust her. He wants to shoot her, but is out of bullets. After Rusty apologises again for lying to him and originally handing him over to the cannibals he says, “That was a million years ago, and I got a short memory. In fact, I don’t even remember who you are”.

The pair resolves to rid the city of the gangs and keep the keys. They go to an abandoned warehouse, using themselves as bait, in the hopes that the gangs will kill each other before killing them. For the most part, the plan works. However, the bosses of the child-gangsters are in fact Philip and Marlowe’s fathers. Before he dies, Philip’s father tells him that the past does not matter. In the end, the only gangster left standing is Miles, who has the keys. She shoots at them, and misses, but startles Marlowe into shooting and killing her.

The film ends with Philip letting go of the angst which he had nursed for 15 years. He adopts Marlowe’s “silver-lining look on life”. The two demonstrate Marlowe’s tap-inspired “post-nuke shuffle” to the crowds of the city. In the closing narration, Philip explains that they plan to set up shop as detectives, but that first he will find Rusty and see if he can repair his relationship with her. Of the keys, he says that he and Marlowe hid them in a secret location, because “you never know, in a tight jam a nuclear missile just might come in handy”.

PRODUCTION Albert Pyun’s first film, THE SWORD AND THE SORCERER, made box office waves and instantly established him as a hot property in Hollywood. If you haven’t heard much about the young director in the past two years, it’s because Pyun has been busy working on his next feature, a post-nuclear fantasy-adventure tale entitled RADIOACTIVE DREAMS. The film is scheduled for release later this year, though a distribution deal has not yet been finalized.

The long pre-production period was, in part, due to the challenge of acquiring financing (after THE SWORD AND THE SORCERER, Pyun had several offers, but wanted to work independently from the studio system and a six month talent search for the roles of Phillip and Marlowe. Pyun estimates that he saw over 600 young actors, striving to find two who weren’t too modern-looking, and could believably carry a 40’s attitude as part of their characters. During this time, Pyun and Karnowski wrote some 50 drafts of the script, began scouting locations, and dove head-long into the other crucial pre-production elements.

A visit to the production office at Laird International Studios reflects just how much work had already been done on the project which, in Pyun’s words, has a budget only “slightly larger than the $3.5 million spent to film THE SWORD AND THE SORCERER, the walls are covered with color storyboards by in-house illustrator Shawn Joyce (who will be preparing all the film’s matte paintings), character sketches, blueprints of sets, and even tabletop poster board miniatures of the hippie city square (modeled after San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury district), and the bombshelter (which comes complete with a two-car garage). Mark Moses, a winner of several CLIO awards, serves as the film’s visual consultant, with Chester Kaczenski handling art direction.

Principal photography, by German cinematographer Thomas Mauck, who shot many of Werner Herzog’s films, began in March in Pyun’s native Hawaii, on the island of Hawaii. The remote locations-in the mountains and on the site of the Mauna Loa volcano, where an unexpected eruption occurred on the first day of shooting-generated some visually sensational dallies, according to publicist Scott Fields.

Interview with Albert Pyun

How did you come about writing Radioactive Dreams? Albert Pyun: I wanted to do something after “The Sword and the Sorcerer” that was distinctive and not like anything else. I think I felt that if I only got to make 2 movies in my life, the second had to be as imaginative as I could create. So that was the start of it and I had a lot of meetings with studios and what they liked about my first film was how it was imaginative, so I went that direction.

Did the 1980’s missile crisis have anything to do with what inspired you? Albert Pyun: Well, no, but growing up in the Col War years certainly did. I always was a fan  of Dr. Strangelove and i think that and “O Lucky Man” got me going on the idea of the last nuke left.

How long did it take for the guys to get the “Post Nuke Shuffle” down? Albert Pyun: Did they ever?? To be fair, we had to shoot it really fast as the sun was coming up and we were losing extras. So we had to shoot it fast and that was unfair to John and Michael because they did work hard on that dance. We shot most of the big music scenes and extras scenes in one night so that really made it a very rushed shoot night. I don’t know if John was as comfortable with the dance as Michael. I think it went against this sort of “cool” vibe John had. He was very dedicated to what we were doing but some of it i could tell unsettled him.

The dance looked pretty amazing. I’m surprised it isn’t a staple to dance to at weddings and birthdays. Any memories of when you filmed the big final scene? Albert Pyun: Just how fast we had to do it. I was disappointed we could do it with more takes and shots. It was pretty basic and FAST. And they had a costume change in the middle of it. I had actually shot several book end scenes which were set 40 years later and had a young mutant reporter interviewing Rusty about Philip and Marlowe. It talked about what eventually happened to them and how Marlowe was murdered by a gang trying to get the launch keys and how Phillip left rusty to destroy the keys once and for all but never returned. I think there was a small shot at the end showing Philip and Rusty’s son and a quick peek of Philip watching from afar to keep them safe.

The soundtrack to this film still remains very popular. Did you personalty pick any of the artist that made it into the movie? Albert Pyun: Yeah, I selected the songs used. My friend and co-producer John Stuckmeyer was into that LA music scene and got a lot of bands to submit cassette tapes of demos. He weeded out the most appropriate ones and he and I selected the final choices to be used. I think we had a couple written for the movie specifically when we couldn’t find exactly what we wanted.

How did you end up meeting John Stockwell and Michael Dudikoff? Albert Pyun: They came in  during the casting process. We saw a lot of great actors of that time, Judge Reinhold, Clancy Brown, Tim Van Patten, Harry Anderson, many really good actors. We even had a breakfast meeting with Tom Hanks, a tape submission from Ellen DeGeneres. All were young and at the start of their careers as was I.

As a special effects makeup artist, I found the mutants completely terrifying! Any memories of the makeup process on the actors? Albert Pyun: That was by Greg Cannom who would go on to win oscars for Dracula and more. He figured out the design and look. I was disappointed that I had to lose the surfing sequence in the film. We wanted to dye the ocean flourescent orange and have surfing mutants surf and rot I think but the Coastal Commission said no.

Do you think a film like that could be made today? Albert Pyun: No, Radioactive Dreams wouldn’t get made today. It’s way too eccentric and weird. Even in 1984 it was tough to get made. I raised the budget myself from a single investor. He was a real estate developer in San Bernadino California. I think he did it because he finally gave in to my dogged persistence for over a year. He said “no” many times, but I kept hearing “yes”. I’m an optimist I guess. I believed in the film and knew it would be a unique picture to follow up The Sword and the Sorcerer. Anyway halfway through production the funding disappeared.

A couple of Edge City’s best and brightest with costume designer Joseph Porro

SPECIAL EFFECTS Special prosthetic make-ups were created by Greg Cannom. His bizarre designs range from the mysterious repulse men to a wrinkled surf bunny (a girl whose excessive bathing in the post nuclear sun has given her the appearance of a 90 year-old woman) and his favorite, the mutant surfers: those who refused to give up their treasured pastime, even though the ocean has become radioactive.

The surfers’ skin, hanging loosely from their bones, is riddled with chemotherapy patches and permanently-affixed barnacles. their long. scorched, platinum blonde hair is missing entire sections. Josephine Turner, who did the intricate hair ventilating for THE HOWLING and THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING WOMAN, will create the wigs. Straight and extra make-ups will be provided by Ve Neil and Rick Schwartı.

Mutant Surfer

Special fire and mechanical effects will be handled by Joe Lombardi’s Special Effects Unlimited. The film’s extensive stunt work, under the direction of Alan Gibbs offers several cliff-hanging sequences: a chase on winding mountain roads involving female bikers, a high-speed helicopter pursuit, various gun battles and a warehouse explosion. Additionally, there will be a surfing sequence in a ‘radioactive’ ocean-a portion of the real ocean near the shoreline will be chemically dyed expressly for filming.

Cast and crew spent most of their final week of production in Los Angeles, working with a 14-foot high mechanical rat created by Charles and Steven Chiodo, with 22 separate functions and 12 operators-giving it head, arm, and body movement capabilities-said to be the most advanced pneumatically controlled robot ever constructed for a motion picture. Star Lisa Blount does a scene while standing in the rat’s mouth. Her stunt double Andre Gibbs, wife of the film’s stunt coordinator Alan Gibbs, takes over for Blount’s death scene in which she is eaten alive by the rat.

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Radioactive Dreams (1985) Soundtrack Most of the songs featured in the film are pop rock in the new wave vein. The exceptions are Zim Bim Zowie, a swing number, and also a tune in the American Songbook style, Daddy’s Gonna Boogie Tonight, played on a phonograph during the scene when Philip and Marlowe prepare to leave the fallout shelter. The latter and another track called All Talk were left out of the Australian and German soundtrack releases.[7]

Nightmare – Jill Jaxx – 5:10 Radioactive Dreams – Sue Saad – 5:18 She’ll Burn You – Maureen Steele – 4:13 Young Thing – Cherri Delight – 4:09 Tickin’ Of The Clock – The Monte Carlos – 2:07 Psychedelic Man – Shari Saba – 2:41 Eat You Alive – Lisa Lee – 2:40 Guilty Pleasures – Sue Saad – 3:44 (Performed by Saad on-screen) Turn Away – Mary Ellen Quinn – 2:13 She’s A Fire – Sue Saad – 2:07 When Lightning Strikes – Sue Saad – 6:51 Zim Bim Zowie – Darryl Phinessee – 2:20 Daddy’s Gonna Boogie Tonight B.J. Ward All Talk Lynn Carey

CAST/CREW Directed Albert Pyun Produced Moctesuma Esparza Written Albert Pyun

John Stockwell – Phillip Chandler Michael Dudikoff – Marlowe Hammer Michele Little – Rusty Mars Lisa Blount – Miles Archer Don Murray – Dash Hammer George Kennedy – Spade Chandler Norbert Weisser – Sternwood Christian Andrews – Brick Bardo Paul Keller Galan – Chester (as P.K. Galán) Demian Slade – Harold Hilary Shepard – Biker Leader (as Hilary Shapiro) Sue Saad – Punk District Singer Kimberly McKillip – Sadie – Hippie Chick Gulcin Gilbert – Greaser Chick (as Gulshin Gilbert) Mark Brown – Greaser Russell Price – Greaser

Makeup Department Greg Cannom    …  special makeup Ve Neill  …  makeup designer Brian Wade     …  additional makeup effects designer / additional makeup effects supervisor / special makeup effects artist Kevin Yagher   …  prosthetic makeup assistant

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY Cinefantastique v15n01 La Cosa Cine Fantastico Issue #113, July, 2005 staystillreviews

Radioactive Dreams (1985) Retrospective SUMMARY A nuclear war breaks out in 1986, expending the world's entire nuclear arsenal, except for one missile.

[henrykcc]

Twisted Love

Ever since I laid eyes on her, I knew we were in love. She may have not known it at the time, but she had stolen my heart. I have always been an outsider in my school so I’ve never had any real friends, just the cafeteria staff that I got my breakfast from daily, however I wouldn’t consider a simple hello as us being real friends.

But she was different, oh she was more than any old friend, we were lovers. It all started when I walked into my Biology class first period, I was surprised that I arrived on time for once and was a little excited to get a full work period in. I wasn’t a bad student, I just didn’t like to wake up in the morning.

Anyways, I was shocked to find out that Mr. Evans (my usual homeroom teacher) wasn’t already in class. He usually arrives 45 minutes before the bell, so he could set up everything in order to save time. It was 15 minutes after the bell and the rest of the class began to worry, he was never late for anything.

Suddenly the door of the classroom opened and what walked through had to be an angel sent from heaven. I remember the first thing I saw were her pitch black high heels, then in came her long toned legs, when the rest of her body came in the door I felt my jaw hit the floor.

I remember her so vividly, she was wearing a short skirt that just went right up to her knees, she wore a silky baby blue blouse that hugged her curves tight. Her eyes were as blue as a pool of water, her long honey blonde hair was neatly straightened and moved to the side in order to display the artwork on her face.

She had ruby red lipstick that coated her lips, her curly black eyelashes nearly touched her thick eyebrows and her fair face had a bright glow to it, her complexion was mesmerizing. Our eyes met, and she gave me the warmest smile that made my heart skip a beat.

I could tell the other boys were drooling over her, I couldn’t blame them. She walked up to the desk and plopped down her massive purple purse, she then turned to the class and began to speak,

“Good morning boys and girls, as you can see your usual teacher isn’t here today, in fact i’m afraid he won’t be with you for quite some time. You see, Mr. Evans had a bad fall while cleaning out his gutters over the weekend, he’ll be alright but he won’t be able to do his usual teaching duties for awhile, I’m his daughter Mrs. Evans. I’m so excited to meet you all and can’t wait for us to work together”.

She let out a little giggle and began to start up her computer. I instantly fell in love with her. For the next couple of months, Mrs Evans was our homeroom teacher. She was way better than boring old Mr. Evans, along with being exceptionally sweet and practically looking like a greek goddess, she was very smart too.

I must have jumped out of my bed every morning, I was never late to her class because I didn’t want to miss a single thing. I never really took notes in her class however, I was to busy doodling love notes in my notebook, writing poems about her, thinking what life would be like to live with her, forever. When the other boys discovered my secret love journal, they tormented me with teasing for being so lovey dovey.

Mrs. Evans caught them one time picking on me, she scared them so badly that I could see the sweat run down their faces. She looked at me with her alluring eyes and gave me a little wink, that's when I knew we were in love. She would ask me to stay a bit after class to help clean up the lab and sometimes I would stay with her after school to help her with marking her other classes work.

We would talk about mundane things like the weather and all, but I knew she was flirting with me. I knew it was hard for her to keep her composure around me, I could tell she wanted me. For a long time, I thought we were really in love, but one day I caught a cold and couldn’t go to school for a few days, those days were pure tourcher, It felt like my heart was going to rip out of my chest due to the pain of being away from her.

When I finally returned to school, I was heartbroken. I showed up late and arrived a few minutes after class was over. When I walked to the classroom, the door was open, I looked inside and saw one of my classmates Lawrance helping her clean the lab, that was my job. They were giggling together and she had a smile on that i’ve never seen before, my heart shattered. 

I didn't go to school for awhile after that, I was filled with sadness,  and anger. When I did return Mrs. Evans didn't even welcome me back, she just looked at me with her cold dead icey eyes. Apparently we were going on a field trip to a barn that day, something about watching a live birth go on or something, but I didn't care.

It was just another thing she didn't tell me. When we arrived at the barn, we split up to explore, since I had no friends I just went alone. As I walked around aimlessly, I noticed Lawrance from the corner of my eye. He had a pair of rusty old scissors in his hand that he impaled into a nearby hay bale.

He walked into an old barn that looked abandoned, the paint on the outside that was once a bright red was now brown and dirty. I went to the hay bale, and stared intensely at the scissors. He took my love from me, she was the only person in this cruel world that gave a damn about me, and now she was gone and it was all his fault. I tugged the scissors out of the bale of hay and followed him into the barn.

I slowly opened the door that was being held with one hinge, it began to creak but he didn't seem to notice. He had a pair of white earbuds in that kept him from hearing what was going on. He had a sick big grin on his face, I knew he was thinking about Mrs. Evans, how beautiful she is, how madly in love she is with him, it made me sick. All I felt was rage, he stole my love from me, he needed to pay. Before he knew what hit him, I charged towards him and ramed the scissors into his back.

I kept stabbing him vigorously through his back, I felt his blood spill onto my hands, he jerked his head around and looked at me, I could see the fear in his dark brown muddy eyes, like he didn't know what was coming. He stole my love from me, he needed to die. Those five long minutes felt like an eternity, I was desperately gasping for air. Lawrance's lifeless body laid before me, it felt like a wave of relief washed off my chest.

The villain was slayed, and I could finally be with my love. I turned his body around and carved in his chest "I still Love You". The police came to get me a couple of minutes after they found the body, they knew I did it because I told Mrs. Evan's that he would never bother us again.

I thought she would look at me with those alluring eyes like she used to, but instead I was met with a look of pure fear, like I was some sick freak. I was so confused, I thought she really loved me. Now, I sit in this cold cell, writing this story because I have nothing better to do. I look back on what happened Thoes 8 long years ago and wonder, did she really love me?

[thisisheavynews]

Zac Brown Band Talks Bourbon, ZZ Top Celebrates Beer Drinkers And Hell Raisers As Bourbon And Beyond 2019 Comes To A Close

Zac Brown Band closes out Bourbon and Beyond 2019. Sunday, September 22, 2019 in Louisville, Kentucky

Photo by Barry Brecheisen

As summer time winds down, the Hometown Rising, Bourbon and Beyond and Louder Than Life music festivals carry renewed vacationer curiosity to Louisville, Kentucky throughout three consecutive September weekends. 

Bourbon and Beyond drills down on meals and beverage along with nice stay music, however options just a little little bit of the whole lot that’s carefully related to the “Bluegrass State.”

“We love finding ways to reach out to folks and sort of interpret baseball through all sorts of different lenses, especially to sort of broaden the story of it a bit. Whenever there’s some type of pop culture way to draw baseball in, we’re all about that,” defined Louisville Slugger Museum and Factory Vice President and Executive Director Anne Jewell. 

Gallery: ZZ Top, Zac Brown Band, Leon Bridges, Edie Brickell, Margo Price And More On Day three At Bourbon And Beyond – Photo Recap

30 photos

Since 1884, Louisville Slugger baseball bats have been made in Louisville, Kentucky and solely Louisville, Kentucky and the corporate has a significant footprint in its dwelling metropolis. 13,000 seat Louisville Slugger Field acts because the summer time dwelling of the Triple-A Louisville Bats and the corporate runs 12 months spherical excursions of its manufacturing unit and museum.

“We are so proud that the city’s name is in our name. We know that we are ambassadors for the city and we don’t take it for granted,” mentioned Jewell. “Our factory tour is the real deal – this isn’t a fake factory. We are the only place in the world where these baseball bats are made and you’re walking right through the heart of our production line. We just renovated our factory tour, so it’s a whole new experience. And our next stop is renovating our galleries and our store. Even if you’ve been to our place before, it’s a new experience if you come back. You don’t have to be a big baseball fan to enjoy it.”

Bourbon and Beyond entered its third 12 months in 2019 and Louisville Slugger has partnered with the music pageant since its inception, creating distinctive mementos and experiences for followers and artists alike. 

“We give each act in the lineup a black and silver Louisville Slugger bat that’s customized with the Bourbon and Beyond logo in silver. Then it’s personalized with their names. For some of the real iconic performers – the Rock and Roll Hall of Famers and so on – we also create customized bats. They’re real works of art that sort of fit each artist’s vibe and groove and style,” Jewell defined. “We ask the artists to sign those and then we add them into our music superstars collection, which features musicians like Bob Dylan and Stevie Wonder and Carrie Underwood. Then we bring those out for our guests. When they come visit us, we have them out on display and folks get a chance to hold them and know they’re holding something that was in the hands of their rock and roll heroes.”

Baseball was on full show Friday night time on the Bourbon and Beyond stage as John Fogerty carried out his baseball targeted 1985 hit “Centerfield” on a baseball bat formed guitar, a model of which has discovered a everlasting dwelling within the Baseball Hall of Fame.

“We made an amazing bat for John Fogerty this year. It’s sort of outfitted with a traditional look but has a smoky, flame brand to it which really brings out the deep wood grain. We had sort of a red, white and blue stars and stripes logo for him with his arched John Fogerty logo. We can’t wait to get our hands on that after he’s signed it and put it out for folks to see,” Jewell mentioned. “Even folks who aren’t that big of baseball fans but are music fans, we get a chance to tell them a little bit of the story of baseball too.”

Nowhere was the incorporation of music and meals higher displayed at this 12 months’s pageant than throughout a Sunday panel dialogue that includes Zac Brown Band chef Rusty Hamlin and guitarist Coy Bowles.

Chef Rusty Hamlin and Zac Brown Band guitarist Coy Bowles on stage on day three at Bourbon and Beyond. Sunday, September 22, 2019 in Louisville, Kentucky

Photo by Barry Brecheisen

Chef Rusty handles Brown’s “Eat and Greet” every night time on tour and options a wide range of recipes on his web site, together with his tackle a New Orleans basic.

“On stage, I did a Louisiana barbecue shrimp which means just shrimp in a pan with compound butter and spices and stuff. Then I flamed it with the bourbon and it came out really well. Anything you use white wine in, almost, you can use bourbon in,” Hamlin advised Forbes backstage Sunday afternoon. “Lately I’ve been taking different barrel ash and using it for curing fish or turning it around and doing brines with it. You can incorporate that ash into a brine and it really, really helps to bring out the flavor. But, when it comes to infusing anything from sauce to ice cream, you can definitely use bourbon.”

Hamlin’s cooking for the band options bourbon in a wide range of methods and Zac Brown Band multi-instrumentalist John Driskell Hopkins and bassist Matt Mangano are each followers of the spirit.

“I’ve been hanging out today with Angel’s Envy and with the Pappy Van Winkle group. And they’re friends and they’ve got a long Louisville history together with families stretching hundreds of years making these amazing whiskeys. It’s great to see the families come together and this unity behind a product that everyone all over the world can enjoy,” mentioned Hopkins backstage. 

Zac Brown Band closes out the Bourbon and Beyond music pageant. Sunday, September 22, 2019 in Louisville, Kentucky

Photo by Barry Brecheisen

“I enjoy the bourbon,” Mangano advised Forbes. “Having a bourbon is historically a gentleman’s drink and it sort of brings people together who might not normally sit together. You can sit down at a bar next to somebody and strike up a conversation about your bourbon. It’s just a fun social idea to hang out and have a whiskey and to be surrounded by so many different craftsmen too,” he continued, noting the pageant environment.

Zac Brown Band was a success Sunday night time working up their fiddle-fueled tackle cuts like “Knee Deep” early, finally working in covers ranging anyplace from Charlie Daniels Band (“Devil Went Down to Georgia”) or Kings of Leon (“Use Somebody”) to Dave Matthews Band (“Too Much”). 

The totally different sounds and types explored Sunday night time at Bourbon and Beyond acted as an amazing primer for the group’s sixth studio album The Owl, which was launched final Friday and covers huge musical floor.

“I been waitin’ on this all day!” mentioned Brown, opening Sunday night time’s co-headlining set with “Homegrown.” “We’re so happy to be sharing the stage with these legends,” he continued, noting weekend performers like Fogerty, Robert Plant and ZZ Top.

Comedian Adam Carolla made a cease on the pageant Sunday too, speaking spirits on stage with connoisseur Fred Minnick.

Bourbon and Beyond marked the final cease of a weekend which noticed Carolla recording a web based collection known as Bourbon Barter throughout a visit throughout Kentucky’s famed Bourbon Trail for airing by way of Spirits Network.

Adam Carolla in dialog with Fred Minnick on day three at Bourbon and Beyond. Sunday, September 22, 2019 in Louisville, Kentucky

Photo by Barry Brecheisen

“When I was at Justin’s, I tried a bourbon called Old Blowhard, which is what my kids call me,” Carolla joked of a cease at Justin’s House of Bourbon in Lexington, Kentucky. “I took a shine to that. I basically like the really expensive bourbon when it’s free.”

Elsewhere on the Sunday music slate, Edie Brickell carried out alongside the New Bohemians.

“We’re gonna go back in time. We’ll see if you remember…” mused the singer, opening her Bourbon and Beyond set Sunday with “Stranger Things.” 

The affect of the Grateful Dead was notable within the guitar taking part in of Brickell and authentic New Bohemian Kenneth Neil Winthrow throughout a lightweight, bouncy early afternoon set Sunday.

“Serving up a little teen angst,” joked Brickell. “There’s a little part of that that’s still alive in me,” she continued establishing “Circle.

The singer kicked repeatedly together with her left leg later, closing the group’s 1988 hit “What I Am.”

Edie Brickell & New Bohemians carry out on day three at Bourbon and Beyond. Sunday, September 22, 2019 in Louisville, Kentucky

Photo by Barry Brecheisen

ZZ Top set the stage for Zac Brown with a rollicking biggest hits set that began robust with “Got Me Under Pressure.” 

Guitarist Billy Gibbons and bass participant Dusty Hill strutted in sync to the foot of the stage, pointing at each other as “I Thank You” kicked in subsequent.

The group’s patented fuzzy guitars have been out for “Legs” and Hill appeared to the group, cupping his ear, hamming it up as Gibbons took over “La Grange.”

“Tush” was a efficiency throughout which Hill dealt with the lead vocal, permitting Gibbons to get pleasure from a cigar as he ripped off a scorching slide guitar solo.

“We’ve been coming around here for 50 years,” noticed Gibbons of the group’s historical past in Louisville, introducing bandmates Hill and drummer Frank Beard. “Same three guys right here, same three chords.”

from Heavy News https://thisisheavynews.com/zac-brown-band-talks-bourbon-zz-top-celebrates-beer-drinkers-and-hell-raisers-as-bourbon-and-beyond-2019-comes-to-a-close/

[ink-consequential]

Ink Consequential: Autumn 2017

Home

Jana A

When you ask me what it’s like where you’re from, my tongue stumbles against the words. I’m unable to understand the question.

Do you mean, what it’s like in my childhood bedroom where my walls are painted pink and yellow and my stuffed animals have been discarded to the top shelves? It was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, and I miss my bed dearly. No one in my family would remember to knock before opening the door to tell me that it’s time to eat or to check if I have enough blankets or to ask me about my day.

Do you mean, what it’s like in the house I was raised in where the stones are colored with age and my grandmother’s garden spreads like the gardens of Eden? Full of life, full of noise, full of love, full of family. Each apartment is a foreign country, but my grandmother and uncle and aunt and cousins were frequent travellers. There was always food to be shared; there were always loud arguments to be had, blaring in my mother tongue.

Do you mean, what it’s like in the city I loved and hated? The traffic is always awful and obnoxious men throw “compliments” like grenades, but it has the prettiest sunsets I have ever seen. The dusk makes everything golden: the old white stone buildings, the cracked pavements, even your own skin will glow with the day’s last remaining rays of sunshine. Downtown, people sell used books on the sidewalk. They sell brightly colored spices in glass jars, and the doorways of those little shops always smell like a feast. I miss the call to prayer, taking over everything for just a minute, five times a day. I miss the music they play in coffee shops, violins and heartbroken sighs that are somehow always full of hope. I think the children in my city all have the world’s brightest eyes and most mischievous smiles. Sometimes they will try to sell you roses or gum or bitter chocolate and you should always refuse. Sometimes old men or women in my city will invite you in for a cup of tea, and you should always accept. The deep wrinkles in their brown skin seem as though they might gather dust, as though they have been forgotten for hundreds of years. You could live to be a thousand and you would not have know half of the long lives they have lead. They have seen the world pause its rotation and turn the other way. If you start to smell smoke, you should pause and turn the other way.

Do you mean, what’s it like to have this passport? What’s it like to live in this country with its imaginary borders drawn on our behalf with an invader’s pen? What’s it like to see the barren deserts and urban crawling cities and little villages around the olive tree fields and know that it’s all home? Well, I always complain about the weather, but I wouldn’t prefer any other climate. We are millions and millions of people, some of us who have nothing, but we collectively chose to open our doors for people in need.

It’s a lot like a warm embrace. It’s a lot like you.

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Keep reading for poetry, short fiction, and more!

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Our Goodbye

Elise Alarpy

I cannot hold onto you, You are footprints on the sand. Fleeting and washed away, I hope you understand.

I loved you so fiercely, More than you could know. But I must give you up now, It's time to let you go.

You are nothing but a memory, A wound that cannot heal. Time took you too soon from me, But what we had was real.

I feel your loss so keenly, My heart is a phantom limb. The world has lost its colour, And now everything is dim.

But I know I must move on, There are battles to be won. I am a wilting flower, Slowly blooming in the sun.

Despite how much I miss you, It is time to say goodbye. Just know that you are in my thoughts, And no one loved you more than I.

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A Salesman’s Game

Esther C

The tornado sirens were blaring across the parking lot, but she wasn't afraid; it was Wednesday. The last sounds echoed against the storefront in time with the twinkling fairy lights in the window. The door dinged when an elderly woman walked in, supporting herself with a cane.

She greeted the customer with a plastered-on smile, adding just enough crinkle to her eyes to make it seem genuine to older eyes. They exchanged pleasantries, and she left the woman to shop.

The game had begun.

She offered assistance in any way that she could. Some things were easy to convince the woman to buy, especially when she whisked things away to the checkout counter before the lady had a chance to second-guess herself.

The game was about fear.

Fortunately for her paycheck, the elderly were often easy marks. Buy the candles, she'd suggest. You'd hate to be caught without light in a power outage like the one that happened last year. Some took more convincing, but most were happy to follow the suggestion.

The game was about doubt.

Winter's coming up here pretty soon; are you sure you have enough blankets? You know how heaters like to go out at the worst possible moment, and fireplaces can only do so much.

The game was about influence.

Now this, this was the fun part of the game: it was where all of the pieces landed on the same square and affected the other decisions. This was the element that changed with every mark. Once the fear and doubt are planted, then the player knows that they have influence. There's a sale going on if you get just half a pound more of sugar; it'll only cost a few more cents overall. Reaching out for the canister, obeying the command to wait to dish it out, but not moving to put it back.

The game was about patience.

A beat or two pass, and the player stands a little straighter. She mentally urges the lady to get the half pound more, gently shaking the scoop to level it out, the sound of the sugar filling the silence.

You'd better make it an extra pound while it's on sale, the woman says.

She smiles and acquiesces.

The game had been won.

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On Divorcing My Father

Katherine Sorensen

Do you see my father over there? He is the man his daughter mourns, the memory of a superhero, the man she loves in vain.

His pride is too loud, he can’t hear the sound of his daughter telling him that he broke her heart.

But his daughter glued her heart with the help of her mother, the wisdom to know that women don’t need men to make them strong.

My father ended the conversation, forcing a girl too young and polite to say things she didn’t mean, because a man’s ego is too fragile.

Do you see my father over there? He is the one talking to the girl who is smart enough to know she no longer needs him.

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Haunting

Danielle Jeanne

Despite what many believe, it is not in the middle of the night when the supernatural roam the streets. The supernatural, being what they are, are not constricted to time or circumstance like the mere mortals they live with seem to think that they are. Ghosts are especially terrible at doing what humans expect of them.

It was reading three fifty-five in the afternoon on the clocks around the city on a sunny Saturday when the street lights on 23rd Street began to flicker on and off. A baby begins to cry across the street as it feels a rush of energy flow through them, making the child’s father confused by the sudden outburst from the once happy child. The little nightlight in the corner of the room turns on.

The apartment below doesn’t appear to fare any better from the curious little spirit. Maxwell begins to bark at the lamp in the corner of the room, giving away his owner’s secret of harboring an unregistered pit bull in her home. She gets up from her bed to calm down her dog (god? Her dog god? The spirit isn’t sure) down enough for her to go back to sleep so she can worry about the consequences in minute detail later.

The couple on the first floor, however, is not amused. Simon huffs out a breath, muttering mild profanities while Irena finishes loading the laundry. Upon inspection of one of Simon’s shirts, Irena notices a few specks of crusted, rusty powder on the left sleeve. Heaving a sigh, she liberally applied the peroxide she kept near the washing machine just for cases such as these. She knew Simon was out with the boys this morning, but he had sworn to go meatless until the witch hunt had gone down.

“Hon, why is there blood on this shirt that I know I saw you wear this morning?” Irena asked him.

“Blood? What bloo—Oh! Blood! Well you see, today’s Henri’s birthday, and he wanted to celebrate the traditional way, and we, we—I mean he—he got a little out of control, you see. He might be on the news tonight, just so you know! He has gained so much weight, I doubt you will even recognize him, sweetheart. Going pig’s blood has really done a number on his metabolism,” Simon answered honestly. There was no point in lying to someone who had been able to hear his pulse for the past 50 years.

As Simon explained himself, Irena heard the cackling in the wires. Mimi was laughing at Simon through the lights in the building. As she chuckled to herself, the lights began to flair again causing the dog-god-dog to start barking and child to throw another short fit. Irena groaned, placing her head in her hands as she counted backwards from ten. If Mimi was here, then Simon and Henri had really messed up this morning. “I told you that the witch hunt had picked up! Why did you even try, huh? Why put yourself out there for the cops to get a hold of? You know what they did to Oskar last weekend! It was a total horror show!”

“Hey, what they did to Oskar was no one’s fault but Oskar’s! Oskar was a literal witch who was doing literal blood magic to get that girl in his human ethics class. I kinda think the irony was lost on him with that one, but hey it ain’t anyone’s problem now. What Henri and I did was fair game. She was homeless—”

“She? She?! Oh, no sir! That is almost asking to be drawn and quartered by the cops. You know the high value they put on their women here—”

“Their women’s bodies is more like it.”

“All the same to them! Mind, body, the whole package! Serious jail time for you if we’re caught, mister! And don’t forget that I know you’re still here, Mimi! I got some words for you! If you were there to see them do it, then you were there to tell them to back off! ”

“Wait, how come I would be the only one in the apartment to get jail time? You’re an accessory and an actual witch! You’ll be facing twenty to life with me, babe!”

“Oh, don’t you call me ‘babe,’ you son of a…” The conversation faded out as Mimi left the building the way she came, through the wires and back to the light post across the street. Mimi began to make her way to the station to laugh at Henri some more before Irena found a way to summon her back to the apartment. The clocks in the city read four fifteen in the afternoon as Mimi continued to live her death as she’d died in her life—hanging from a wire as she waited to see her friend’s reaction to the chaos that they themselves had caused.

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I Dated A Girl

Adrianna Nine

I dated a girl once who was a real peach. She just about smelled like one, too. And even on bad days or ones filled with rain Her smile lit up the room.

I dated a girl once who said she was haunted. Where she went, a ghost also came.  She was so cute that if it weren’t creepy I’d honestly do just the same.

I dated a girl once who loved to paint. On her canvas she’d copy the sky. And when she asked if next she could paint me I blushed so hard I thought I might die.

I dated a girl once who traveled the world. She practically lived on a plane. I would’ve asked her to live with me But she needed a spur, not a chain.

I dated a girl once who dressed in all black Even when it was a hundred degrees. My cats left fur all over her dress And unfortunately oft made her sneeze.

I dated a girl once who was a barista. She tasted like sugar and cream. The first time I saw her was at her café And the whole day then felt like a dream.

I dated a girl once who loved to write. She said it made her feel free. I came to her once with a poem I’d written her And it turned out she’d made one for me.

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Editorial

Esther C

Those of you who follow Ink Consequential closely know that I finally gave up the ghost on my pseudonym with our last issue, which is equal parts terrifying and freeing. Sure, I’m still a person on the internet, but isn’t everybody reading this? I must admit that I do like clinging to my anonymity, to that name I’d chosen for myself. Amelia has twice the syllables that Esther does, but it rolls off the tongue a little better without any plosives and doesn’t have any silent letters lending itself to misspellings.

Amelia means industrious or hardworking, and that’s an image I like to portray. I mean, I’m definitely at work enough to give off that particular vibe, but it’s not just about work. I run a litmag for fun, for goodness’ sake, and it’s been an enjoyable adventure thus far. Speaking of adventure, it was Amelia Earhart who said, “Adventure is worthwhile in itself,” and it’s one of my favorite quotes that isn’t from the Bible (but is anybody shocked by that?). I must admit that I admire her life. Amelia was truly adventurous, pushing and stretching the limits of what it meant to be a pilot and a woman. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she never gave up on anything.  She disappeared living her dream, and, while it’s tragic, it’s also very cool. But then we come to Esther.

Queen Esther, a woman formerly admired for her beauty, became a woman admired for her courage. Haman, one of the king’s highest officials, set out to wipe the Jewish people from existence. (In my opinion, he often sounds like a petulant child whenever I read the story, but that’s up for different interpretations.) Anyway, Haman successfully convinces the king to allow the annihilation of the Jewish people through some underhanded means. Chosen queen by the king himself, Esther was in a unique position of power for a Jewish woman: it becomes her duty to beseech her husband to revoke the order. Mordecai (Esther’s cousin who raised her after her parents died and the discoverer of a plot to murder the king) has to convince her to speak before she’s willing to go to the king (something that can bear the penalty of death if done unbidden) and reminds her of something that I often hold close to my heart: “Maybe you were chosen queen for just such a time as this.” So, Esther goes to the king, and (skipping over some events) Haman ends up executed, Mordecai takes over his position and issues a new edict to counteract the old one, and the Jewish people are saved.

With those stories in mind, what do I want people to think of when they think of me? Do I want people to think of Amelia, a woman who dared to dream and was willing to give her life to fulfill it? Do I want people to think of Esther, a woman who dared to stand up for what was right and was willing to give her life to live it out accordingly? I think the answer is both and neither. I want to be a woman who dares to dream, who dares to stand up for what is right. I want to be a woman who lives life boldly, letting faith dictate her steps, relying on compassion to guide her words. I want to be ardent and considerate, someone known for her ideas and the follow-through as well as kindness.

Am I any of those things right now? I couldn’t tell you with certainty. I think I already am a dreamer in that I have hopes for the future. I stand up for what I believe is right by preaching peace and love to those around me, by speaking when I feel called to speak. I don’t know how boldly I live life right now, but I definitely see that the path of faith will take me to that place of boldness. I looked up the definition of ardent to make sure I had the word I was thinking of, and it seems to fit me already—having intense feeling, passionate, devoted, eager—though I have plenty of room to grow into it further. I feel like my kindness can only be judged by the people around me, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t strive for it in my life (usually; I am only human, after all).

I started writing this by asking myself the question, What’s in a name? Just as Amelia means hardworking, Esther means star. Sometimes, I overthink it and feel as though it gives me a deeper connection to the cosmos, to the universe that I believe God created. Sometimes, I think it means that I should be willing to shine in the darkest of times even if my light is only minuscule. Sometimes, I hope it means I’m destined for notoriety and fame—but that’s a little far-fetched even for me. Sometimes, it means that I may never learn everything about the world around me, but that feeling of excitement and wonder is definitely still there. Maybe it means all of these things; maybe it means none of them. But maybe, just maybe, it means that I should be myself, whoever that woman is.

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[synergygabriel]

sam yawned, dragging his hands down his face before letting his elbows rest on the library table. he was exhausted. chasing lead after lead after lead, pouring over every book that was relative and lots of books that werent. he didnt have the faintest idea on what could be behind the mishaps of this small town. the only thing he could think of was the trickster, someone with a penchant for jokes who wasnt afraid of causing trouble so big hunters would notice. but the trickster was gone. sam knew this. hed sat outside elysium fields for days, staring at the front door, never daring to step back inside. he knew the leftover carnage from lucifers rampage awaited him, and he didnt want to see the now rusty brown blood splatters on the walls, or the ashen outlines of angel wings imprinted into the hardwood floor. but he sat outside anyway. willing for the golden haired mischief maker to stride out, a spring in his step. he remembered clear as day looking over his shoulder as hed walked out that fateful night, watching the door swing closed never to open again. sam checked his map. they werent too far actually... maybe some fresh air would clear his mind. he knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't help it. the stars were bright that night, a pleasantly cool breeze rustling the roadside bushes. sam sat atop the bonnet, looking at the dark entrance way, the door probably seized closed by rust and weather and age. probably. probably. probably. his mind was on auto pilot as he stood, heading to the door. he needed to see where it had happened. he needed to see for himself those wing marks and he would believe. but he couldnt fool himself into thinking he believed until hed seen. the door opened with surprising ease, but the hallway was blacker than the night outside without the faint light of the stars. the carpet was thick with dust, every footstep making a muffled noise. sam walked down the corridors, retracing his steps in reverse. as his eyes adjusted he could see the way the walls were two-toned from the lashings of blood. he could smell the iron, the stale scent of old pennies that clung to his clothes. he turned into the hall and rummaged for a torch in his jacket pocket. he clicked it on, sweeping the yellow glow across the floor, to reveal... nothing. no wingmarks. no nothing. just a hardwood floor in need of a mop. "looking for me?" a familiar voice crowed cheerfully from behind sam and he spun around, torch falling from his hand in shock. "youre meant to be dead." sam blurted out, not thinking. "ah, you noticed that. well, im not. i decided it wasnt my time yet." the smaller man stepped forward into the ambient golden glow emmited from the torch on the floor. "couldnt have been my time, not with so much i hadnt done." "but youve lived for only you knows how long. what could there be that you hadnt done that was so urgent?" and would you vanish again once you did it? "i hadnt told someone i love them. and you know as well as i do how much it hurts not be able to tell someone you love them before they, or in my case, you, die." sam was lost for words. he couldnt bring himself to understand. "so why wait here?" "because i knew you would come." sams mind was a whirl of emotion, shock, disbelief, fear, and confusion. amongst this mess of conflicting feelings an action pushed its way to the front and sams body moved without him thinking, his arms encircling gabriels waist to draw him close to they could kiss. and they did. in that dusty hall, by the orange light of a dollar store torch, they kissed. at last.